We Are The Remnant

Chapter 1

It was raining, as it often did in the North West of England. Only, this wasn't England, not anymore. My father had told me stories of his childhood: lazy summer afternoons trekking through the green hills; days out by the sea eating fresh fish and chips with a mug of hot tea; Christmas with family watching the King's speech. These things I had heard about but never experienced. There was a throne but no king. Tea was rare; fish, a delicacy; the hills, pale. This was no kingdom and it was not united. The future had come, and England was gone.

The echoes of this once green and pleasant land greeted us as we crossed into their territory. And a by-the-book crossing it was, our book I should say. I'd done this a hundred times, paying the bent guard to look the other way while we made for our target. If our contact was to be believed, it was a train fully laden with supplies, much needed provision for the empty stomachs of the residents of the Welfare Reserve. An anonymous silver-spoon-fed Republic citizen, two hundred miles south of here would never receive the excess they craved. Instead the Republic would play the reluctant benefactor of those she had exiled, as sure as the devil's in London.

Yet my thoughts were as divided as my nation.

I sat on the edge of the stone bridge, legs hanging over the train track. How easy it would have been to let myself fall and my legs break. I would have survived the drop, but I couldn't have escaped the oncoming train. But the pain: I'd already drunk my fair share, drunk the barrel to the dregs. The swift demise I sometimes longed for was in the falling, but only if the engine struck me mid-air. I began the mental calculations. One, two, the pebble landed. Sixty-three seconds to arrival.

Sixty-two, sixty-one, sixty.

I took a drawing from my jacket pocket and looked at it.

Fifty-seven, fifty-six.

The hands on my watch were slowing.

"Captain," Surge took my shoulder and my heart leapt. The drawing flew from my grasp, carried on a breeze. I leant forward and snatched it while Surge pulled me back. I collapsed in a heap holding the picture to my chest. The fall was much shorter than I expected. Surge offered his hand and pulled me to my feet.

"What were you thinking boss?" He said with a grimace, "you could've been killed. Is a picture worth your life?"

"What life?" I muttered

He pointed at the drawing, "is it the French girl?"

"Don't ask." I returned it to my inside pocket.

"So, what's the plan?" Surge said.

"We'll see when we get in there." I answered,

"Great plan."

"It's not a plan, mate."

"Right. You're not a plan kind of guy."

"No. I'm a Swiss army knife and this is just one tool."

"Why plan for the future..." Surge began.

"...when there's no future to plan for," I added, "you know me too well."

"I also know when you're on the edge."

I pointed to the wall, the rim of the bridge, "I was just sitting on it."

"Ha, bloody ha. You know what I mean, Captain. If you go, who will feed them?"

Maybe you, I thought. Maybe them if they wake up. Wake up and see I'm not the guy they think I am. I couldn't tell him though. Or them.

Keep calm and carry on.

Nothing more was expected of me.

"Don't worry Surge. This train is ours." I mounted the wall.