The Fearless (2 page)

Dad nodded.

‘But why couldn’t our army stop them?’ My heart was beating faster and faster.

‘They’re trying,’ Dad said. I noticed he wouldn’t quite meet my gaze.

‘So how come the Fearless are in France?’ France was close – we’d been to the Dordogne on holiday last year. ‘Will they come here?’

‘No,’ Dad said firmly. ‘We’ll be all right. There aren’t going to be any Fearless here. The government and the army are making sure of that.’ He gave me a quick hug. ‘Please don’t worry about it, sweetheart, OK?’

By now, the sun was dipping towards the horizon, streaking the sky with gold and pink. ‘Dad,’ I said as we stood up.

‘Yes?’

‘Can Sol come over after my riding lesson tomorrow?’

‘I don’t see why not. Come on. We should head back. Mum’ll be wondering where we are.’

‘Race you down the hill,’ I said. The path we’d just climbed was wide and flat, perfect for sprinting.

‘OK,’ Dad dropped into an exaggerated crouch, like an athlete about to run a race. I assumed the same position, giggling.

Then, behind us, I heard a blasting roar, so sudden and deafening that Dad and I both jumped and ducked. As the sound streaked overhead I saw, already way off in the distance in front of us, the black arrowhead silhouette of a fighter jet flying south. Another went over, then another, and another. Then a dull, low thudding filled the air. Following the jets was a line of huge helicopters with two rotors; I counted five, seven, ten. The sound made the air vibrate around us.

Dad’s mobile rang. He put it to his ear. ‘Clare, are you OK?’ he said. He listened for a moment, and all the colour drained out of his face. He ended the call. ‘We need to get home,
now
,’ he said.

‘Dad, what’s—’ I started to say. He grabbed my hand. We pelted down the hill, going so fast that my feet tangled and I almost fell over. By the time we got to the road and the
Welcome to Blythefield
sign, my chest was burning, but another formation of fighter jets streaking overhead kept me moving. The streets were empty, and eerily quiet.

When we reached our house, which was tucked away up the lane at the edge of the village, Mum was waiting for us at the front door. She was clutching her bump, her hair standing out around her head in a tangle of flame-coloured curls, and for one horrible moment, seeing her pale face and tear-filled eyes, I thought the baby was coming early.

‘What’s happened?’ Dad asked frantically. ‘I couldn’t hear you properly over the helicopters.’

Mum hustled us inside, locking the door behind us. All the curtains were drawn and the blinds were down, even though it was still quite light outside. Kali appeared from the kitchen and began winding around my ankles, miaowing; I picked her up, burying my face in her sleek, coal-coloured fur.

‘I’d turned it on to watch the news,’ Mum explained, pointing at the TV, ‘and the screen went blank. Then that came on.’

Dad and I both looked at the same time. On the screen, there was a message, white writing on a black background.

‘Oh, God,’ Dad said.

If you are seeing this message on your television or computer screen, it means the Invasion has taken place and all broadcasting and internet services have ceased.

• Find a place of safety for you and your family. Do not stay anywhere you could be easily cornered or trapped. Plan your escape routes and practise using them.

• Arm yourself. Although guns and ammunition are in short supply, many other items can be used as weapons, such as garden and DIY tools, knives, lengths of wood or heavy kitchen implements. Use any force you feel is necessary to protect yourself.

• Make sure you have the facilities to collect and boil rainwater for drinking, cooking and washing. Good hygiene is essential for the prevention of disease, particularly among the young, elderly and those with existing health problems.

• Make sure you are aware of basic first aid techniques. With medical facilities now severely limited, it could save your or a loved one’s life.

• Do not venture out of your safe place unless you have to, or draw attention to yourself by making unnecessary noise, using lights if not needed, etc.

I stared at it. I understood what it was saying, yet I couldn’t make sense of it. I kept thinking about what Dad had told me up on the hill:
There aren’t going to be any Fearless here. The government and the army are making sure of that
. ‘What’s happening?’ I asked, my voice thin and high with fright.

‘I don’t know.’ Dad grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels. They were all showing the same message. He turned the TV off and grabbed the laptop off the coffee table. I watched him try to connect to the internet. The same message flashed up on the screen.

‘What the hell?’ he murmured.

‘What about the radio?’ Mum said.

Dad fetched them. We had two – a brand new digital one and an ordinary one. When he turned the digital one on, there was nothing but a low hum. The ordinary one crackled and hissed; he switched it from FM to AM, twisting the dial. I heard a burst of sound – a voice. It startled Kali, who wriggled out of my arms and darted out of the room.

‘What was that?’ Mum said.

Dad turned the dial again, more slowly this time. Out of the hiss of the static, the voice emerged. It was a man, talking very fast, his voice high and panicked. ‘ . . . here,’ he was saying. ‘They reached the coast an hour ago and it’s carnage. I don’t know if anyone can hear me, but I’m in Dover, at . . .’ Another burst of static obscured his words. ‘ . . . and I’m using this . . .’ More static.

‘How’s he doing that if the radio stations have stopped broadcasting?’ Mum said.

Dad shook his head. ‘Maybe he’s got some sort of police radio.’

The man’s voice rose out of the static one last time. ‘ . . . to send this message to warn you. The Fearless are here! There are thousands of them! And they . . .’ Then the static grew to a buzz, and no matter which way Dad turned the dial, he couldn’t find the man again. He switched the radio off.

I didn’t cry easily, but I felt a tear leak from the corner of my eye and trickle down my cheek. ‘What’s
happening
?’ I said.

‘Sweetheart, I don’t know.’ Dad’s face was grim. He took his mobile out of his pocket, dialled someone’s number, then cut the call. ‘That’s gone now too.’

‘What about the landline?’ Mum went into the kitchen, and came back a few moments later holding the handset. She shook her head. She was breathing fast, clutching her bump.

The doorbell went.

‘Wait here,’ Dad said with a nervous glance at the blank TV screen. He went into the hall. I heard the chain on the front door rattle, then voices – familiar voices.

‘Sol!’ I cried, running into the hall as Dad let Sol and his parents into the house.

Dad showed them into the living room. Mr Brightman limped across to one of the armchairs and sat down with a grunt, sticking his left leg out. Two years ago, he’d been in a terrible car accident. He was rushed to Dad’s hospital, and it was Dad who’d operated on him and saved his life.

Mrs Brightman perched in the other chair, her mouth pinched into a thin line. As always, her blonde hair was sleek and gleaming, her clothes, a cream blouse and white trousers, immaculate.

‘Do you have any idea what’s going on?’ Mum asked Mr Brightman.

Mr and Mrs Brightman exchanged glances. ‘Perhaps we should send the kids upstairs for a bit,’ Mr Brightman said. ‘There’s something we need to talk to you and Pete about, Clare.’

Mum turned to us. ‘Why don’t you and Sol go up to your room, Cass?’ she said in a too-bright voice. ‘I’ll bring you up some biscuits and juice as soon as we’ve finished.’

I glanced at Sol. I felt as if I was on the verge of tears again. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fighter jets and the helicopters. I knew that they were connected to that message on the TV, and the man on the radio.
The Fearless are here!

‘Kids, upstairs, please,’ Dad said, going over to the door and opening it for us.

‘But Dad—’ I wanted to know what was going on. I
needed
to know.

‘No arguing, Cassandra,’ Dad said in his best I-mean-it voice. He watched us go up the stairs. As we reached my bedroom, I heard him go back in the living room and close the door.

‘Did you see those planes and helicopters go over earlier?’ I asked Sol as he sat down on my bed. Kali padded in and jumped up beside him, but he ignored her, and nodded solemnly.

It was getting dark now. I switched on the light and went to the window, where I stood for a moment, looking out at the shadowy garden before whisking the curtains closed. The room looked exactly the same as it had when I woke up this morning: the walls the same shade of pale duck-egg blue, the desk in the corner comfort ably cluttered with books and pens and the beginnings of a patchwork cushion me and Mum were making. Hound, the worn brown-and-white toy dog I’d had since I was a baby, was still sitting on the end of my bed, one ear sticking up and one flopping down as always. But nothing looked familiar. I didn’t feel as if I belonged any more.

‘We should go down and listen,’ Sol said.

‘What?’

He wrinkled up his nose, like he always did when he was worried, his freckles disappearing into the creases. ‘I heard Mum and Dad say something last night about moving away.’

I gasped. ‘You can’t move!’ I said. Sol and I had only known each other a few years, but as our teacher Mrs Pamett said, we were joined at the hip. I’d never had a best friend before Sol came along. He shouldn’t even have gone to my school – Mrs Brightman wanted to send him to a posh boarding school, but Sol failed the entrance exam. Mrs Brightman was really disappointed. Once, a couple of our other friends and I went round without being invited first and as we left I heard her arguing with Mr Brightman, saying stuff like
those dreadful village children
and
should never have moved here in the first place
.

‘It was the father of one of those “dreadful village children” who saved my life,’ I heard Mr Brightman snap back at her, and with a shock, I realized he was talking about Dad. Which meant Mrs Brightman had been talking about me.

‘I don’t want to move either,’ Sol said.

‘OK, let’s go back down.’ I was as desperate to know what was going on as he was. We crept downstairs, and I pressed my ear against the living-room door.

‘Everywhere’s been overrun,’ Mr Brightman was saying. ‘Europe, Asia, America, Canada. And now here.’

‘But are you sure?’ I heard Mum say. Her voice sounded high and panicky.

‘You’ve been watching the news, haven’t you? And you saw that message on the TV and the internet.’

Dad murmured something I couldn’t quite make out.

‘What does he mean?’ whispered Sol, who had an ear pressed to the door as well. I realized I hadn’t told him about the newspaper in the recycling yet.

‘ . . . why we came over,’ Mr Brightman was saying. ‘I recently invested in some property – a small, man-made island off the coast between Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight. The previous owners were developing it as a holiday resort, but they were based in Dubai, and when the trouble started overseas their backers pulled out and they went bankrupt. It’s nowhere near finished yet, but I’m setting it up as a safe place for people to ride out the Invasion. A select few people.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Pete, I’ve never forgotten what you did for me after my accident. I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you. And your medical skills would be invaluable. That’s why I’ve reserved a place for you and your family on Hope Island.’

Inside the room, there was silence. It didn’t occur to me to wonder how Mr Brightman had managed to be so well prepared for the Invasion when it had taken the rest of the country by surprise. Not then, anyway. All I could think was,
does this mean we’ll be moving?
And how had Mr Brightman been able to buy an island? I didn’t know a lot about what he did, only that it was something scientific that he never talked about, not even to Sol. And I knew it made him enough money for the Brightmans to live in the huge house at the top of the lane, which had its own swimming pool and tennis court. But a
whole island
?

‘What about the baby?’ Mum said.

‘Like I said, the facilities are basic at the moment, but there’s medical equipment. We’ll make sure you’re OK.’

This time it was Mum’s reply that was too quiet to hear.

‘Of course, you’ll only be able to bring the bare minimum with you,’ Mr Brightman went on. ‘A few changes of clothes and other essentials. No pets, I’m afraid.’

Kali
.

I grabbed the handle and flung the door open. ‘If Kali can’t go, I don’t want to either!’ I said as the adults stared at me. ‘We can’t leave her!’

‘Cass—’ Dad began.

Mrs Brightman cut across him. ‘
Solomon!
’ she snapped, crossing the room in two steps and grabbing Sol’s arm. ‘Were you eavesdropping?
What have I told you about that
?’

Her eyes looked like bits of black flint. She gave Sol a hard shake, her fingers digging into the top of his arm. He tried to twist away. ‘Ow, Mum. You’re hurting me!’

‘I don’t know what’s got into you recently, Solomon,’ Mrs Brightman said. ‘I’ve told you it’s rude to listen in to grown-ups’ private conversations. I’ve told you—’

‘Diane, leave him,’ Mr Brightman said, but she seemed not to hear him.

‘Apologize at
once
,’ she hissed at Sol.

‘I – I’m sorry.’ Sol’s eyes swam with tears, and I took a step back, just in case she decided to start on me next. Last time I’d gone to Sol’s, she’d yelled at me for dropping a glass. That’s why I usually asked Sol over here.

‘
Diane
,’ Mr Brightman said, a little more forcefully, and she seemed to come to her senses. She let go of Sol, who blinked and rubbed his arm. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again in a small voice.

‘I’ll deal with you when we get home,’ Mrs Brightman said.

Dad cleared his throat. ‘So, when are you leaving?’