Jessamy Beech Ch. 10: Plymouth

The city of Exeter had been taken over by another quasi religious cult, much like the one Jessamy had encountered in Glasgow. Only this cult's followers seemed to have resigned themselves to the inevitability of the end of all civilisation and vowed to go out with a bang. 'Better to burn out than fade away' was their mantra as their nightly hundreds strong orgies of hedonistic excess fuelled by alcohol and drugs overtook any instinct for survival.

"I envy them in a way," Mpenzi had admitted as they left the city through slushy grey snowdrifts.

"H-how so?" Alison had seemed particularly affected by the sight of women being penetrated by three or four men at once but being so drunk or high as to be completely oblivious.

"See out the end of this fucking world and just not give a shit. Better to burn out than fade away eh?"

But Jessamy knew there was still a chance. A single frayed thread of bruised hope that the bunker might be found that controlled Earth's network of defence satellites. After she'd been to Cornwall, after she'd seen her parents safe and well, maybe then she might set her mind to hunting down the few remaining names on the laminated list given to her by Doctor Bromden.

Across Dartmoor along the B3212 they walked, gradually running short of food, water and patience in the icy winds, freezing sleet and drizzle. A hostile encounter near Postbridge with what turned out to be some ex-prisoners from the old high security Dartmoor prison also used up much of their precious ammunition, so the sight of an organised community in Yelverton had filled them with hope.

But it seemed that the kindness of strangers had gone the way of YouTube, nail bars and the thousand other meaningless things that in the twenty first century had once been called civilisation ...

. . .

"Just what the fuck is it with you two?" Mpenzi stopped suddenly and glowered at Jessamy and Alison. A couple of hours after leaving Yelverton, they were weaving their way between car wrecks littering the cracked and cratered A386 through Eggbuckland on the northern edge of Plymouth.

Jessamy looked at the tall South African woman blankly.

Alison peered around fretfully, with her trigger finger twitching. They were in prime ambush country and it was getting dark.

"What do you mean Lupita?" Jessamy asked.

"That's Sergeant Mpenzi to you, soldier," Mpenzi snapped, "you two bitches have barely to spoken to one another since the hotel in Bristol. You've been tiptoeing around each other for a fucking fortnight and it's really getting on my fucking tits. Whatever the problem is, get it sorted before it gets us killed."

"Th-there's no problem Sergeant," Alison stammered, glancing sidelong at Jessamy.

That wasn't strictly true. Since the amazing sex they'd shared in Bristol, things had felt awkward between the two women. For Jessamy it had simply relieved some of the stress that came with being hunted by an army of bloodthirsty crazies and rapists. But for Alison it had evidently meant so much more.

She'd given herself completely to the beautiful blonde teenager, trusting, letting another woman, Jessamy Beech, see her utterly exposed as she really was for the first time ever. It had been special.

Then Jessamy had ruined it by talking about her lost love Merida - "Now she's gone I don't think I'll ever be able to love anyone like that again."

Alison had felt a growing loathing towards Jessamy since, like a cold black worm uncoiling inside her. She felt used, cheated. But she still remembered Jessamy's delicious salty taste, the warmth of Jessamy's thighs pressed against her head, the feel of Jessamy's tongue snaking insistently up inside her. And she wanted more than anything to do so again.

Alison found herself stealing furtive glances at Jessamy as she went about her daily routine - brushing her teeth, eating - enviously admiring her sparkling blue eyes like the crystalline waters of a mountain tarn, the smooth curves of her jaw and neck, the enticing way her tattered uniform pulled taut across Jessamy's thighs and ass as she walked ...

... and all the while wishing that she could be the one Jessamy Beech loved and lusted after, not some long dead memory who'd probably been gang-raped then eaten alive by cannibal Reivers months ago.

"Just sort it. Both of you," Mpenzi ordered.

"Yes Sergeant," Jessamy nodded.

"Yes Sergeant," mumbled Alison.

"Beech, take point. Nethybridge, right flank. It's getting dark so keep your eyes peeled."

PART TWO: DEVONPORT

Plymouth, with its sprawling naval dockyards as a prime target, had been decimated by the Luftwaffe's bombs during the Second World War. During the 1950s and 60s it had been virtually rebuilt from scratch - the magnificent Georgian townhouses and cosy Victorian terraces replaced by acres and acres of concrete.

Only the Barbican and Plymouth Hoe had survived that first calamity almost unscathed. Sutton Harbour and the Mayflower Steps from where the Pilgrim Fathers had reputedly set sail for the new world (before it was discovered that there'd been a cholera epidemic in the city at the time and that their last landfall had actually been Newlyn in neighbouring Cornwall), the Royal Citadel and the red and white striped lighthouse of Smeaton's Tower.

But as Jessamy, Mpenzi and Alison picked their way through Plymouth's shopping centre and the soot stained remains of its once impressive war memorials an hour later, all they could see in every direction, were ruins. Not a single sign of life. What the incendiaries and high explosives of the German air force had started, the rogue asteroid Thanatos had convincingly finished.

"You sure this is the way to the naval base?" Mpenzi asked cynically for perhaps the tenth time since they'd entered the dead city. Only eleven years before, the wide expanse they were walking on would have been busy with families out for a stroll, dog walkers, and couples hand in hand enjoying the sunset as they headed off to some restaurant or pub up in the city centre.

Alison nodded, "I memorised the route. From here we head west along Cliff Road towards Mill Bay Road and we're almost there. The docks are all over that way."

But Jessamy was peering off into the far distance, to where the watery sun was setting behind the dark, distant hills. Over there, across the harbour of Plymouth Sound, across the Tamar River, was Cornwall. She was only sixty five miles from home.

Once they'd made contact with whatever part of the Royal Navy still existed, and Jessamy knew her friends would be relatively safe, she'd choose her moment and make her escape. Across the Tamar Bridge to Saltash and onward ...

"Have you tried to raise them again?" Mpenzi demanded, her skin crawling. She couldn't dispel the feeling that they were being watched.

"Not a sausage," Alison shook her head. They couldn't make out a single light for as far as they could see and darkness swathed the landscape like a thick, black blanket, the only light from the sliver of moon reflecting on the oily sea to their left.

Mpenzi muttered, "I hope to fuck this isn't a wild goose chase ..."

PHOOM!

Blinding white light engulfed them from an unseen source just offshore. The beam of an immensely powerful searchlight.

"GET DOWN! SPREAD OUT! DON'T FUCKING BUNCH UP!" Mpenzi shielded her watering eyes, trying in vain to see where the light was coming from.

"I c-can't see a b-bloody thing!" Alison whined. A loud clatter followed as her weapon slipped from her grasp and skittered across the stained tarmac as she stumbled blindly about.

"DROP YOUR WEAPONS! WE HAVE YOU IN OUR SIGHTS AND WILL OPEN FIRE," a voice shouted tinnily through a loud hailer from the direction of the light.

Jessamy hunkered down, thumbing tears from her eyes as she tried desperately to get a fix on the searchlight so as not to waste ammunition firing indiscriminately. She was too close to her goal now to be taken prisoner by some upstart local warlord.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" Mpenzi hollered.

"THIS IS THE ROYAL NAVY FRIGATE HMS POSEIDON. I REPEAT - DROP YOUR WEAPONS OR WE WILL OPEN FIRE."

"It's them," grinned Alison, "it's the navy."

Mpenzi placed her SA80 on the ground and stood up, arms spread to show she was unarmed, "I'M SERGEANT LUPITA MPENZI OF THE BRITISH ARMY. WE CONTACTED YOU TWO WEEKS AGO."

To Jessamy she hissed, "Stand down Beech. Lower your weapon."

There was silence for a few moments ...

Then all at once, lights flickered on to either side of the searchlight a few hundred yards offshore. Evenly spaced white lights, red and green navigation lights and blue lights from square windows set high up. Jessamy still couldn't make out what it was but could still judge its size and shape from the lights illuminating the edges of its long, sleek deck and blocky bulkheads. A ship.

The dazzling searchlight clicked off as, from the sickly yellow waist high grass nearby and from the burnt out wreckage of a Shearings coach blocking a side road, a dozen or so figures stealthily emerged. Telltale red dots from laser sights flickered menacingly across Jessamy, Mpenzi and Alison's torsos as they advanced. Through the flickering afterimages left by the searchlight they caught glimpses of black body armour, kevlar helmets and oiled gun metal.

"WEAPONS DOWN!"

"Do as he says," Mpenzi whispered to the others.

Jessamy placed her SA80 carefully on the ground, and beside it her bow from Bristol, never taking her eyes off the faceless figures for a second. She guessed they would have to search her to discover the Royal Marines Commando knife tucked into her boot.

"NAMES."

Mpenzi sighed, "What, again? Sergeant Lupita Mpenzi. These are Corporal Alison Nethybridge and Private Jessamy Beech. We contacted you. We're all that's left of RAF Woodvale."

"Poseidon, they're friendlies, stand down," one of the figures spoke in a strong Northern Irish accent into something attached to his collar and lowered his weapon. He lifted night vision goggles away from his eyes. Jessamy still couldn't make out his face very well in the gloom but relaxed a little.

"Uh, Petty Officer O'Brian. We've been ... expecting you ladies," he held out a gloved hand for Mpenzi to shake.

"Thank fuck for that," Mpenzi gasped, "we thought we'd run into another faction of crazies. This time with their own fucking ship!"

"Poseidon keeps out the ... undesirables. We're still pretty tooled up here," laughed O'Brian, "let's get you safely into the naval base and ... make you all more comfortable. Is it just the three of you?"

'Tooled up?' thought Jessamy. Did the Royal Navy really say that?

Mpenzi hadn't noticed. She nodded, "Yep. Take us to your leader."

Jessamy retrieved her weapons as Mpenzi and Alison chatted animatedly to O'Brian. She couldn't help but notice a few of the other navy personnel loitering close by, unashamedly watching her every move. She guessed that through night vision goggles they'd be getting a real eyeful as she bent over.

These men may not have seen a woman for months or even years, she thought. And now three attractive young ladies had shown up at once ...

Following Mpenzi and Alison and flanked by their armed escort, Jessamy tried to shake the niggling suspicion that something was dreadfully wrong ...

. . .

What Jessamy had taken for another abandoned industrial estate turned out to be the edge of the sprawling naval base. Whereas meteorite damage in the city centre had ranged from total to severe, here it was merely minimal. They, and their escort skirted around craters in the road as they were led between towering grey hangar like buildings deeper into the vast complex.

A massive Fleet Auxiliary ship the size of an aircraft carrier - that had once replenished the smaller, faster ships while at sea with fuel and provisions - lay mournfully on its side in one of the docks, peppered with jagged holes courtesy of Thanatos, its rusting hull covered in barnacles and diseased looking clumps of seaweed. For Jessamy it reminded her of the great Caledonian MacBrayne ferry sitting in Tobermory harbour, but a whole lot bigger.

O'Brian and the others guided them in the darkness using their NVGs to ensure they didn't inadvertantly step off the edge into the oily waters, discussing conditions to the north - Cumbria, Lancashire, and the threats posed by Reivers and General Chinnor's 'army'.

"How many personnel do you have here?" Mpenzi asked O'Brian.

"Surprisingly almost a thousand. Mostly navy, but a few army. A few civilian refugees help out too. Doctors, nurses, etcetera."

"M-must be a nightmare f-feeding all those hungry mouths," said Alison.

O'Brian said nothing. Their escort guided them through a maze of car parks and narrow alleyways between the towering grey buildings, "Our commanding officer, Captain Aubrey, will see you in the morning. But for now I'll show you to your accommodation and let you freshen up and get a good night's sleep ..."

"Wait," interrupted Mpenzi, "we've come all this way and your captain can't be bothered to see us now?"

"He's, uh ... a little busy this evening," O'Brian turned to her, though the gesture was meaningless as Mpenzi couldn't see his face in the darkness and under his NVGs, "but he knows you're here now. He ... sends his apologies."

Mpenzi huffed.

A hundred yards further on they reached one of the base's old accommodation blocks, a three storey grey slab of a building with many of its windows boarded up and scorch marks from fire around some of the others. Armed guards patrolled outside with two more stationed at the entrance.

"Why the guards?" asked Mpenzi.

"This is the single womens' accommodation block," answered O'Brian as if it was obvious, "no offence but women like yourselves are something of a precious commodity nowadays, like fuel, food and ammunition. If we can ever hope to rebuild ..."

"You want fertile females to breed from?" Mpenzi spat.

"Er ... eventually yes, but I suggest you discuss all this with Captain Aubrey in the morning. You're welcome here. And we won't force you into anything against your will."

Jessamy tightened her grip on her SA80.

"I ask that you surrender your weapons at the block's armoury while inside," O'Brian continued, as if he'd noticed, "we don't want any ... unfortunate incidents."

"And this ... Aubrey guy, will see us in the morning?" Mpenzi asked.

O'Brian nodded, "CAPTAIN Aubrey. I'll meet you here myself to take you to the Wardroom for ..."

"Sorry, Wardroom?"

"Er, the ... Officers' Mess for breakfast. 0800 hours."

"Guess this is goodnight then," said Mpenzi.

O'Brian snapped to attention and saluted, then without another word or even waiting for Mpenzi to return the salute, turned and led his men away.

"So this, is our hotel for the night," sighed Mpenzi. One or two pale faces peered curiously down at them from upstairs windows.

Yeah, thought Jessamy, but not for long.

. . .

A windowed cubby hole inside the building's entrance turned out to be the armoury. A sour-faced woman who seemed to have taken it personally that she was middle-aged and sagging while Jessamy, Alison and Mpenzi were still young and attractive, took their firearms and Jessamy's bow without a word.

All through the exchange, the guards outside watched silently through the cracked glass doors, firearms at the ready.

"Where now?" asked Alison as they wandered through the eerily quiet building. They'd expected conversation, laughing, perhaps even music. They'd expected the other women to come flocking down to the scruffy little lobby to welcome them and ask the newcomers for news of the rest of the country.

Jessamy could hear whispers and a quiet sobbing coming from one of the rooms if she really concentrated, but with the sound of their footsteps on the filthy grit covered carpet it was difficult to pinpoint where exactly.

"Guess we find a vacant room, make ourselves comfortable," huffed Mpenzi, "some fucking welcome this is."

"I'm not going to be s-someone's br-breeder," mumbled Alison.

Mpenzi touched her arm reassuringly, "You won't have to be Nethybridge. This is the Royal Navy, not some fucking Reiver cult. Well at least I hope it isn't."

The doors along the ground floor were all either ajar or missing, but it looked as if all the rooms had suffered flood or fire damage at some point in the past. The next floor up seemed to be completely full up, the doors all firmly closed and no matter how many times the three of them knocked, no-one answered. Fitfully flickering fluorescent lights along the corridors and in the stairwells made shadows dance and lunge at them putting Jessamy on edge. She drew her concealed knife and held it ready as they reached the top floor.

Around half the rooms were occupied, but the three of them eventually found a double room halfway along with two single beds. Mpenzi dragged an extra single mattress through from another vacant room so they could all be together, "So we can get a good night's sleep," she explained, "if I had to spoon up to one of you on a single mattress, I might get frisky in the night."

The room was draughty despite thick blackout curtains, the decor tired and the mattresses stained and lumpy. But compared to where she'd grown up, to Jessamy it was the height of luxury. An ensuite bathroom with a flushing toilet and a shower that emitted a dribble of lukewarm water made them soon forget about the frosty welcome.

. . .

"Am I the only one who thinks this is seriously fucking weird?" asked Mpenzi. She towelled her dreadlocks dry after taking her turn in the shower and was sitting across from Jessamy wearing nothing but her underwear.

"How so?" Jessamy asked. She was trying not to stare at Mpenzi's impressive chest straining against the material of her off white sports bra. But she couldn't help it. Mpenzi's nipples stood out like corks in the cool night air.

"So many things don't add up. Where's the captain? Where are the other women?"

A tuneless humming came from the ensuite as Alison took her turn in the shower.

"Captain's busy. Rest of the women have settled down for the night?" answered Jessamy, in danger of dozing off. She'd dried herself and climbed straight into bed naked, laying her MTP jacket over the duvet for extra warmth.

"It's only just gone nine. Hmm," Mpenzi drew up her long, ebony legs and got under her own covers, "Armed guards outside the accommodation blocks? I've got a lot of fucking questions for this Aubrey fella. Aubrey? Aubrey? Where have I heard that name before?"

"You think it's a false name?" Jessamy asked. She was imagining what it would be like to slip under the duvet next to Mpenzi and snuggle up next to her for warmth.

"If he's legit why would he need a false name?"

"Maybe he's not legit."

Mpenzi shook her head. She yawned and stared across the narrow gap between their beds, "You know what Beech?"

"What?"

Mpenzi lowered her voice, "If Nethybridge wasn't just over there in the bathroom I'd come over there and ..."

Jessamy's heart quickened. Ever since being summoned to the Sergeant's quarters back at RAF Woodvale she'd wondered if and when Lupita Mpenzi might make a move, "And what?"

"Never mind. Let's get some sleep. We've got a big day tomorrow. Breakfast with his excellency Captain Aubrey," she sat up and addressed the bathroom door, "IF NETHYBRIDGE HAS QUITE FINISHED TITTING ABOUT WITH HER FUCKING HAIR IN THERE!"

. . .

The following morning as promised, O'Brian met them at their accommodation and escorted them to the Wardroom, an imposing stone building dating back to the 1700s close to the harbour itself. A white ensign - the flag of the Royal Navy flapped feebly from the top of a mast erected on the building's forecourt.

"Captain Aubrey sends his apologies but he won't be able to meet you today either," O'Brian told them, "I'll collect you in say ... an hour, and give you a tour."