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  AH6015: A valiant and concise answer. Do you practice those words in the mirror?

  Tariq looked at his computer screen with chagrin.

  AH6015: Never mind. I am sure you don’t. What about the paper you work for, though? Do you think they share your same principles for candour?

  T3LM: I needed a placement for my degree and this one came up. It is a hard industry to get into, we were advised at university to take what we could get.

  AH6015: -And what an industry it is. Would it to surprise you to know that The Vigilante is owned by the same man that holds over a quarter of UK readership across various guises of the same message? Are you religious, Tariq?

  T3LM: I am and am not. I fell out of love with the institution of religion, but it is a good way to live. To be good to the world that bears us and kind to those that share it.

  AH6015: Have you thought that in the same way that all the papers - more generally mainstream media in its entirety - are controlled by a handful of people, religious ‘institutes’ are too? Every single one preaches the same message. Each of the most popular religions build on the last, Islam a furtherance of Christianity, Christianity of Judaism. Just by using a new prophet they can tailor the ideals to best control the population of that time. Certain people read certain papers or watch certain news channels, where all the content is tailored for those specific people by a single person or corporation so that they all accept the same message.

  T3LM: I have thought of that. The problem of not going through the system first is that no one takes you seriously. You end up being some mad blogger sitting in some disregarded corner of the internet that no body tunes into because they lack citation and credibility. No offence to you of course. The people that share the truth and are genuinely a force to be reckoned with have gone through the relevant ‘institution’ first and come out with hard facts that can’t be ignored. No one would have listened to Manning or Snowdon otherwise. I intend to get my degree, work for a few years and build my circle of influence before I can delve deeper into the cracks in the system that people need to know.

  AH6015: I can help to open the cracks.

  Tariq watched many links to other websites with videos and new articles coming through the messenger. Tariq opened each in order and skim read each page. As more and more came through, in various languages that were automatically translated, Tariq started to realise that they were all relating to the same series of events.

  At first there were several links directly alleging to prove the American and British involvement in the set up and arming of the Muharid group. A few links went over to Arabic language transmissions, supposedly from Muharid deserters, that detailed the support they had received from American provisions. One man went into detail as to the reasons for originally joining the group and that it was the shift in ideal from freedom against the corrupt governments to being a conquest for resources that came just after a significant rise in the quality of arms that were being ‘found’. Another article showed satellite images of the U.S. army base that was supposedly taken by Muharid that inferred that no attack truly took place and that the base and equipment was abandoned two days prior to being publicised in western media as ‘a massive loss to the U.S. army’, supposedly after ‘a shock inception left the base open to a rapid attack’.

  The next few links that had come through were focussed on Russia. Contrary to the image that had been built up in Tariq’s familiar news sources, Russia had purposefully avoided any bombings of U.S. flagged bases. The Russian president in the most recent articles had said ‘that policy would stop immediately after intel had shown that most American flag bases in the region were directly being used to either supply the terrorist organisation or were being run entirely by Muharid’, knowing that they wouldn’t be attacked by their true enemies. The Russian led peace-coalition had agreed in principle to a ceasefire and prospective truce deal with the governments of Iran, Iraq and Syria, that could lead to a new state being born across the north of the three existing countries and allowing the group to self-govern to the freedom ideals that first drew the group to action. One Iranian website even went as far to say that a proposal for an oil trade agreement had already been drawn up in draft that would give a significant source of riches for the new country to recover the infrastructure that had been lost in the fighting.

  The last set of links were introduced by AH6015 as the most troublesome. The North Atlantic Trade Organisation was on the verge of dissolution, with the leading countries within the European Union already supposedly having the beginnings of deals in place to create a new trade union alongside Russia and China. France and Germany had watch status granted to the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation, which if NATO fully dissolved would be granted a full seat at the table and a renaming of the organisation. All that was spoken was preceded by uncertainty and speculation, but the sheer number of links that related the same pieces of information caused Tariq to be distinctly perturbed by what he read.

  He jumped on to the mainstream media sites he was familiar with, hunting through any articles he could find that could be related to what he had read. He desperately tried to find some semblance of repetition of those that he had seen. Tariq went through to certify that the articles were written by genuine sources and found that in the countries that they printed in, they were well respected and well-read journalists and news companies. Hours passed and by the time he brought himself back to message the distributor of the news, all that remained on his screen was:

  AH6015: Worrisome, right?

  AH6015: [offline]

  Chapter 6

  Flowers bloomed either side of the entrance as Leighton pulled the car from the narrow country road. In as many times as they had visited his parents’ farm he had always found it difficult to pick out the right turning. At least in the early summer, he had his mother's flowers as a marker.

  A large farmhouse lay at the end of a long driveway, hemmed in by thick hedgerows. Branches grazed against the edges of the car. Leighton reassured Shannon that they wouldn't scratch the paintwork. Rearing up behind the farmhouse, lay a silo and as the road started to drop downwards they could see the barns off to each side.

  Shannon loved coming to the farm, part of its existence reminded her of growing up, though she could only have wished that the farmhouse she had been brought up in would have been as grand. She was excited to see how Zeke would take to the farm and the outdoors, however it was likely to be at least half a year or more until he would be at an age to get the most out of it. At less than five months old, he would probably show no more interest to the grandeur than he would have their rented magnolia walls at home.

  The main door came open with some effort behind it and Leighton's father stepped out onto the gravel. Leighton pulled the car to a stop close to the door and his dad made a motion for him to wind down the window on the passenger side. “We are about to get out anyway, Dad,” Leighton said to him, stopping Shannon's reach for the controls.

  He could just about hear his dad cooing through the back window, tapping on the glass. “Expect a lot of this sort of thing,” he said to Shannon, quietly.

  “I forget they haven't seen him since his first-time home,” she replied. “At least I can leave them to it, should mean I can have a drink, right?”

  Leighton switched off the ignition and removed his keys. “I'm pretty sure wine will be mandatory. You packed the breast pump anyway. You'll probably end up missing Zeke, the amount they will want to be cuddling him.”

  Shannon got out and walked straight over to Leighton's mum, who was just coming out through the door. Leighton had to usher his dad out to one side so he could get to Zeke. “Let me get him out and then you can say 'hi' properly.” His dad lingered close to the car trying to catch eye contact with the freshly awoken little boy. Leighton struggled with the seatbelts that were carefully and intricately wrapped around the car seat. “Dad, do you want to grab some of the gear out of the boot while I do this?”

&n
bsp; “Yea. Sure thing,” he replied excitedly.

  “I can take something,” Leighton's mum said, walking towards the car. “Is it just the two days you're staying for?”

  “Yes. Is that still alright?” Shannon answered for him, covering for his frustration with the car seat.

  Leighton's dad opened the boot of the car, “Are you sure you've just brought what you need for two days?” The boot was a carefully tessellating assortment of baby equipment and bags. Flat packed travel cot, changing bag and two small suitcases were visible. “What on earth are you planning with this?” Leighton's dad peered around the open boot with an axe in his hand.

  “Phil, your son likes to feel prepared. I have already given up trying to quash it,” Shannon answered.

  “Ah, good to see he picked up something useful from all that time I felt I was fruitlessly preaching at him about organisation. I was hoping it would just help him in getting a good job rather than him preparing for some kind of apocalypse.”

  “Well, he had to get some of that Michaels madness eventually,” said Leighton's mum.

  “Kerry, you wait until they see my new energy supplies I've had built in. Our son is going to be jealous”

  “Oh yes! You got the geothermal generator working finally?” Leighton asked, now stood with the car seat and baby carrier by his leg. He offered his free hand to take a bag from his dad to take in.

  “Yes, I did, it works a treat. We are officially in energy profit, selling back to the grid now in three quarters of the year,” Phil said proudly. Kerry rolled her eyes and got handed parts of a baby changing table. “I'm going to start work on the battery cell next month. With the numerous turbines we’ve got, it won't need it to be too big. If there's one thing I can rely on around here it is the wind blowing. I just want it enough so that if I need to repair any of the systems, we have enough power in the interim.”

  Shannon spoke, “Now I see where Leighton gets it from. I'm sure when we've got enough money together to buy our own house, it will be laden with all sorts of energy saving gadgets. Yes, I did see the green grant website thing you were looking at!” she directed at Leighton. “And talking of the wind blowing, let’s get this stuff inside. I know the sun’s out, but this wind is still chilling.”

  A few trips by Leighton and Phil later, Shannon had turned the largest spare bedroom into a nursery. Kerry told them again that they could have used two of the rooms, but Shannon happily ignored the lack of floor space that remained and suggested that they couldn't sleep in separate rooms yet. Leighton quipped that he might be the one to use it, though he could never sleep properly when away from Shannon.

  Zeke slept in the temporary cot and Leighton lay back on the bed while Shannon arranged their clothes into some of the empty drawers around the room. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yea, I'm fine. I like coming here, though you know it always reminds me of my dad.”

  “Shall I get you a drink?”

  “It's not that bad, I need to get some milk prepared for this one first. You should go and have one though. Make a rum and orange and I might be tempted for a sip.”

  “I'm not that fussed. Mum's making a roast and it'll be ready soon. I'll have a beer then.”

  “I hate your breath when you drink beer. Have something else.”

  Leighton laughed. “I guess a rum and orange then. For you.”

  The table was laid out in the kitchen as though a restaurant, with attention taken to arrange each mat and utensil. A large roast chicken, bowl of mash potato and plates of boiled vegetables lay down the middle.

  “I hadn't thought about Zeke,” Kerry considered.

  “Don't worry, Mum. We'll just put him down in his play chair. He can't eat any of this anyway,” Leighton replied.

  They sat to eat, arms crossing and bodies leaning across each other as they filled their plates exuberantly. Shannon piled up hers as much as Phil and Leighton did, making a remark about nutrients for breast feeding when given a shocked expression by her husband. They laughed. Shannon noticed that Kerry did not give herself as large a portion as the rest, but in the enjoyment of the food it was forgotten.

  When the meal was finally devoured, all four of them sat in a lethargy, filled bellies restricting movement in all but Kerry. She efficiently worked to clean away the serving plates, confident that everyone was well fed.

  Phil said, “Kerry. Leave all that, let this food go down and I'll load the dishwasher. Please, sit down.”

  Kerry defiantly took one more set of glasses into the kitchen before slumping down in the chair. She sighed.

  “Did I tell you that I started stockpiling last week?” Leighton asked.

  Kerry darted a glance at Phil, who answered, “Why bother? You know you can just come here if anything happens, right?”

  “Well, what if we can't get out of town? We need to at least have some stuff for an emergency. We have enough tinned and dried food to last us a month or two on top of our normal supplies, and that's eating as well as we would normally with no rationing. In the case that we are stuck at home,” Leighton said.

  Shannon rolled her eyes towards Kerry, who let out a snigger. Shannon lent over to pick up Zeke. Kerry said, “I guess he gets it from his father.”

  Phil ignored the remark. “I think it's great. It's your duty as a man to provide for your family. I think that should most certainly include emergency situations, don't you think, Shannon? You must feel safer, knowing that if the 'shit hits the fan', as it were, you are going to be able to eat and stay inside. Much better than fighting the hoards and riots that will hit every corner shop and supermarket.”

  Shannon hummed. “I suppose you’re right, though I think that there are more important things to focus on than collecting knives and axes in the cupboard under the stairs,” she said drily.

  “Is that what my son is putting you through?” Kerry asked.

  “Yes, indeed. We have toys spilling out of our ears and a cupboard full of junk we may never need. Our house isn't exactly big enough to warrant the ill use of space like this,” Shannon replied.

  “Hey,” said Leighton. “You said the other day that you were cool with it. That I was being a good dad by looking out for my family this way.”

  Shannon said, “I would say anything to shut you up about it. There is near enough nothing I could do to stop you. Even if I wanted to. It is cute though.” She grinned at him.

  Leighton looked sullen. Kerry spoke, “Aw, look at him. He means well, bless him.”

  “Come on, Mum, you could at least try and sound a little less patronising. You reckon it's a good plan, Dad, don't you?” Leighton said.

  “I do. Of course,” Phil said convincingly. “Come, Shannon, bring Zeke and I'll show you a stockpile that'll put whatever my son has to shame!” He gave a jovial glare to Leighton as he pushed his seat back. “-And just because you are a parent yourself, it doesn’t mean you get out of taking the rest of the dishes to the kitchen.”

  The heat of the sun could be felt overhead, but cool air still whipped around them as Phil and Shannon walked from the house to the barn. It brought a shiver to both Shannon and Zeke, who she pulled a little closer to her chest. The few trees on the grounds did little to stop the momentum of air speeding across the acres of flat farmland that surrounded the complex. The barn was the largest building on the farm, Shannon supposed it would be big enough for a full-length swimming pool.

  Phil pulled a large bunch of keys from his pocket and muscled open the ageing padlock across the doors. Inside the barn it seemed smaller than the outside portrayed it to be, but soon Shannon realised it was due to the amount of hay and straw against each wall. As they stepped inside, the smell hit her. The mixture of meat, smoke and stale grass made her feel ill from the intensity. Above the mass of straw bales was a jutting shelf a few metres wide with a ladder near the door and another at the far end.

  “I want you to feel safe, Shannon,” Phil started. “Above there we have at least a year’s supply of g
rain, mostly wheat. That's a year for Kerry, myself and you three. We want you to be sure that if anything happens, even if you lose your jobs and need some food, you all come here. Okay?”

  Shannon remained silent, taking in everything within the barn.

  “We've got meat too, should you prefer. I've been smoking a lot of it to keep it good. Now we're getting a bit older we had to cut down on the number of animals we keep. It helps us stay self-sustained. Don't really want to hire any help, seeing as we have everything else down ourselves. What I'm trying to say is, we can put all of you up indefinitely. I want the best for my grandson. And you, of course.

  “I almost hope something does happen to have you guys here more. Kerry would have loved more kids, but, well we had our problems after Leighton. She would be over the moon to have Zeke around. We know you should get on with your life though. Any time you need babysitting, a weekend off, bring him round.” Phil paused briefly. “Ah look, I'm rambling. Anyway, you got free energy, free food, two spare rooms, any time. I guess that is all I am trying to say.”

  Shannon said, “Thank you. Leighton has got some supportive parents, doesn't he? Hopefully it won't come to the end of the world or whatever he thinks is going to happen. The weekend off here and there won't hurt though, I am sure.” She smiled sincerely and gave him half a hug with the arm free of Zeke.

  Chapter 7

  Mina arrived at the pub early and there wasn’t anyone around that she knew well enough to talk to. She sat in the corner with a gin and tonic and waited for Grace, who was supposed to arrive at any moment. The pub was dark and full of the typical smells that fought to overcome the pungency of the pub’s dog. The walls were well decorated with remnants of the village’s past. Black and white photos of its famed brass band, rustic weapons and tools, and taxidermies of small game animals that made Mina cringe to look at.