The Yeomen of England (Posleen in England)

Chapter Twenty-Two: Trapped in Manchester

Manchester, United Kingdom

26^th March 2007
“Ah, ladies and gentlemen, there has been something of a development with the Posleen,” the driver said. “We may not be getting out of Manchester.”
Halfway down the massive coach, Anisa looked up. Her father, slumped by her side, didn’t move. They’d been driven through Manchester, but as they reached the north side of the city they’d started to slow down as more and more vehicles, from ambulances to cars driven with the last of the civilian supplies of petrol, joined the crush. It was cold; she shivered and pulled her headscarf closer around her face, trying to get warm.
“The Posleen are moving around the city, around the ring road,” the driver said. There was immediate consternation. The driver waited for the passengers to subside, before continuing. “We can’t proceed out of the city with any safety.”
“We can’t fucking stay in the city,” a fat and burly man protested, very loudly. Anisa shivered and shrank back on herself, hugging her arms to her chest. “We’ll all be killed.”
“And why aren’t you in the army?” An older woman demanded. “My Jonnie is out there now, fighting to defend us, and you’re here…”
“Silence,” the driver snapped, before the man could start waving his fists around. Anisa felt terrified; the passengers were starting to panic. “We are going to proceed to a shelter, where we will wait.”
“If the Posleen are besieging the city,” a young boy with thick spectacles asked, “what is the point of waiting?”
The driver glared at him. “We have been informed that the army is going to try to open up a corridor to the rest of the nation,” he said. “You will be driven out along with the rest of us.”
Before anyone else could argue, he took the coach onto a side road, making their way through back streets that would have been frankly illegal before the Posleen came. Eventually, they reached a building that was hidden in the press of side streets, a large undistinguished warehouse.
“All out,” the driver said. A uniform policeman helped them to climb out of the coach, leading them into the warehouse. It stank; Anisa felt her nose wrinkle, and there were thousands of smelly blankets on the floor.
“Where’s the fucking toilet?” The fat man demanded. “I need a shit!”
“And if you don’t shut up, I’ll have to arrest you,” the policeman snapped. A grim undertone ran through the crowd. “Male toilets, that way; female toilets, the other way.”
Anisa didn’t join the women pressing their way to the toilets. She pulled out her phone and checked it, but there was still no signal at all. The entire mobile phone network – all of the major providers – was down. Gently, she pulled her father over to a corner and prayed as best as she could, even as the sounds of fighting grew closer.
***

The television camera was mounted on a police checkpoint that had once been designed to pick up speeding cars. Instead of crazy drivers, it showed the Posleen advancing around the city, closing in on the refugee lines.

“Shit,” General Amherst commented. It was the only thing he said as the Posleen fell on the lines of refugees. The Civil Defence Corps had done well, but there were too many vehicles and too little time. The army units fought bravely, but the Posleen were too strong.
“They’ve sealed Manchester,” Corporal Loomis reported. “Sir, they’ve encircled the entire city.”
“I noticed,” Amherst snapped. He stared up at the gathering darkness as night prepared to fall. In nearly seven hours of bitter fighting, his force had been put through the grinder quite badly.
“The 34^th and 45^th infantry have withdrawn back inside the city,” Captain Henderson said. “They’ve repelled a couple of minor Posleen attacks.”
“I wouldn’t have thought that they had the patience to stave us out,” Amherst said grimly. “What the hell are they doing?”
“I have no idea,” Captain Henderson said. “Sir, I used one of the Galactic transmitters to signal PJHQ. Perhaps the PJHQ knows what they’re doing.”
“Why?” Corporal Loomis asked. “They never have before, have they?”
***

As soon as the army units came up and relived the defenders of Rusholme, Brad had attempted to contact Sameena. Fortunately, he knew where she was – the main hospital – and it was easy to use his CDC permissions to get a direct line.

“I fought,” he admitted. “Honey, are you all right?”
Sameena sounded ill. “I just healed a man without any anaesthetic,” she said. “Brad, we’re running out of supplies here, or anything we can use to slow down the wounded.”
“They’ve stopped attacking for the moment,” Brad said. “Honey, they seem to want to seal us in.”
“And you know this through your direct links to London?” Sameena asked dryly. “Brad, promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
“I promise,” Brad said. “You take care as well.”
“I really hope that that’s a business call,” Sergeant Kendrick said dryly. He winked at Brad. “Is that the current head of the medical centre?”
Brad blinked when Sameena told him that she was pretty much the head; everyone senior to her had gone to the front or been killed. Sergeant Kendrick took the phone and made arrangements for transferring some of the wounded out of the immediate line of Posleen advance.
“Thank you,” he said finally, and put the phone down. “Naughty boy,” he said. “Don’t use the lines for personal stuff again.”
“Yes, sir,” Brad said. “Sir, are they going to starve us out?”
“I would, in their place,” Sergeant Kendrick admitted. “I don’t know how the Posleen think, Brad, but it’s the logical thing to do.”
Brad shuddered. “So, what do we do about it?”
Sergeant Kendrick snorted. “I imagine that General Amherst is wondering the same thing himself,” he said. “If the Posleen attack again, we might run out of bullets, and you know what will happen then…”
“They’ll eat us,” Brad said, privately resolving to drink poison if the Posleen got that close. “Sir, what do you want me to do now?”
“I wish I could give you the day off,” Sergeant Kendrick said, smiling wryly. He waved at several other members of the CDC, who were hanging around. “Nights coming in,” he said. “I want you lot to go down to the sewer point and made the link with the army.”
Brad smiled. “We could get out of here,” he said. “We could slip everyone through the sewers.”
“Everyone?” Sergeant Kendrick asked dryly. “No, but we could get a few of the people out. Get cracking, will you?”