Tamsin Beech Ch. 15: Cromarty

All except one.

The last missile steered south west, powering away above their heads. Over Cromarty, over the Black Isle and Inverness, and on down the Great Glen.

If the Reivers were still out there they needed to be dissuaded. Warned. That Fort George and Scotland's east coast were out of bounds. A single tear slid down Tamsin Beech's cold cheek as she clutched Angus to her and peered off to the west, "Ya lyublyu tebya, Leonid Denisovich," she whispered.

Then seconds later, it was as if a new sun had sprung into being where the village of Fort Augustus had once been. An impossibly bright flash of light, blinding white even from thirty or forty miles away, accompanied by a low rumble like thunder.

A pleasantly warm breeze washed up the Great Glen and over the Black Isle and Cromarty, melting the few patches of remaining snow, as far off in the distance a boiling orange mushroom cloud climbed thousands of feet up into the evening sky.

. . .

The days passed and life continued as the weather grew warmer and the crew of the Baekdusan prepared to depart. As planned, Jessamy Beech moved in to Hamnavoe Cottage. But now in the company of her daughter Ada. After so long apart they needed quality time alone to get reacquainted. Refining the skills she'd learnt from Ox and Morwenna years before in Liskeard, Jessamy began to bake. In her garden, she grew herbs and medicinal plants to keep Merida's tiny hospital at the nearby fort supplied.

Gordon the crofter put a fishing hook through his thumb. Finlayson slipped on ice and sprained an ankle. But for Merida Beech it was a pleasure to no longer have to deal with gunshot wounds and Reekie bites.

With the help of a communications expert from the Baekdusan, Fort George was soon in regular contact by shortwave radio not only with Malcolm Keaton and his settlement up on the Orkney Islands, but with the community at Scunthorpe steelworks, what remained of the Coalition colony at Dunbar, and with Lupita Mpenzi at Plymouth's Devonport naval base.

During one particular visit to the fort, Tamsin took baby Angus and Ada down to the narrow strip of beach in Ardersier to watch the local dolphins out in the firth. Seals regarded them warily with sorrowful eyes from the flat rocks just offshore.

"I almost forgot," said Ada, reaching into her black goretex jacket. Wearing Spetsnaz uniform had become second nature and was proving a hard habit to break, "this belongs to you."

She held out Tamsin's knife. The Royal Marines Commando dagger that had killed Volk.

Tamsin looked down at the weapon but made no move to take it, "I'd forgotten all about that. Thanks, but no. You keep it. Your mother gave it to me. But now I think you should have it."

"Alright. I'll take good care of it. Feel free to drop by if you change your mind."

Tamsin gently prised a shiny white pebble from Angus's chubby fingers before he popped it in his mouth, "That might be a bit tricky."

Ada frowned, confused, "Tricky? How so?"

Tamsin turned to look her in the eye, "I'm leaving."

. . .

"Captain Geomi thinks the Baekdusan has enough fuel to reach Canada. Maybe farther depending on sea conditions. I've given it a great deal of thought and ... and I've offered my services to help Yeonmi look for other survivors. Other communities."

"That's the other side of the Atlantic! What about Angus?" exclaimed Merida.

Ada, Yeonmi, Tamsin and her parents had taken over a corner table in Fort George's old mess hall to discuss Tamsin's decision. After the lunchtime rush the place was virtually empty. But nevertheless Yeonmi's two bodyguards hovered close by.

"I'll take him with me," answered Tamsin.

"But you'll be back, right?" Ross Beech leaned forward, cradling a mug of tea with his one arm.

Tamsin placed a reassuring hand on her father's shoulder, "Of course I'll be back dad. This is just something I have to do. Leonid is gone. I just need to be away from all this for a while."

"Wh-what if you don't come back?" asked Merida. It was clear Tamsin's mother was struggling to cope with the news.

"I promise I will, mum," despite tears stinging her eyes, Tamsin grinned, "I promise I'll be back."

"We will take good care of your daughter Mr and Mrs Beech," interrupted Yeonmi reassuringly, "Tamsin is a hero in the eyes of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. And to the crew of the Baekdusan."

"Thank you Yeonmi. That means a lot," Ross answered, "I think our relationship with you started out on the wrong foot. But we like to think of you as an ally now ... an-and a friend."

Yeonmi nodded her gratitude, "And I also."

Ross turned back to his daughter, regarding her proudly. A mother, and leader of the resistance that had brought Britain's people together to expel Zakhvatchikov's invaders. Who was he to tell her what she could or couldn't do? "Now John's gone you're our only child. That's why your mum and I aren't exactly happy about you leaving. But you've proven you can do whatever you set your mind to Tamz. Go ... with our blessing and do extraordinary things okay? Guess I'll have to step up and be in charge of defence here while you're gone, eh?"

Ada Beech spoke up for the first time, "I'll do it ... Uncle Ross."

Ross raised an eyebrow. Jessamy's daughter had thus far avoided involvement with the day to day running of the fort.

Ada continued, "I've had training from the best. I was handpicked to join the presidential bodyguard so that proves I have the necessary skills. I may be young, but I can train your people to be the best they can be. Please, let me do this?"

For a moment, Ross didn't see his niece sat across the table from him. He saw his younger sister Jessamy as she'd looked at eighteen or nineteen years old, when he and Merida had bumped into her in Oban. She'd been small and vulnerable, frightened after escaping her life on Mull. But oh so full of fire, enthusiasm and willingness to learn. And her name had since become synonymous with strength, doggedness and determination. Ada watched him expectantly with her mother's cold, penetrating stare.

Ross looked around the table for any objectors, then nodded, "Okay Ada. You've got the job."

. . .

Everyone at Fort George gathered along the old stone ramparts to see Tamsin Beech and her son off. Finlayson hobbled out from the hospital on crutches, the fort's handful of children were given the morning off from their school lessons and Ada Beech gave her new charges - the fort's defence force, a brief respite from their drill.

With Ross at the controls, the Girl Flora ferried them the few miles out to sea to where the aircraft carrier Baekdusan sat anchored. Tamsin and her mother Merida stood at the stern, their hair mingling together as it blew out like a shining red pennant in the wind.

The cheers and applause soon faded from Tamsin's hearing as the little fishing boat moved farther out into the Moray Firth, past the little white cottage at Cromarty with the blonde woman standing proudly outside waving. But as the wind dried the tears on her cheeks, Tamsin Beech knew that they would last long in her memory.

Or at least, until her return.

THE END OF CHAPTER FIFTEEN

With one eye still swollen half shut, Phoebe Beech stared defiantly at the one they called Renton as he loomed over her stroking his enormous cock. From the upstairs room came the sound of frantic screams. Then laughter as the others took it in turns with Claire - the unfortunate woman they'd captured in Spean Bridge.

Renton. Six feet tall, thirtyish and built like a tank. With the intelligence and charisma to match. His bare arms decorated with swirling patterns of scarification under thick shoulder armour made from tyre treads. When the screams from above grew louder and more desperate, his thickset brown eyes screwed tight below his shaven head as he shuffled closer to Phoebe.

He'd drawn the short straw again. He'd been ordered to stay below in the derelict youth hostel's main room guarding the prisoner while the others enjoyed the evening's entertainment.

Phoebe vowed to never forget Renton. If she ever managed to get free she'd sworn to single him out for a slow and painful death.

It was he who had killed Leonid Denisovich in Drumnadrochit. He'd crushed his skull with one swing of the enormous studded club he carried and laughed about it afterwards. Then the Reivers had taken everything from her. Including her empty Grach handgun, bound her wrists and marched her here through snow and frozen mud. Over the mountains and along the railway line down the side of Loch Treig to the middle of nowhere. Corrour station in the centre of Scotland's Rannoch Moor.

Once the highest railway station in the entire UK, it was now no more than a couple of draughty, ramshackle buildings in a bleak, inhospitable wilderness.

For a month, they'd fed her. Mainly barely cooked venison hunted on the surrounding hills. Though Phoebe was loathe to eat anything the Reivers gave her, she knew she'd have to keep her strength up if she stood any chance whatsoever of escaping. Midge infested moorland, bogs and meteorite craters for miles in every direction they'd told her. From what she'd seen and from what she'd experienced getting there, Phoebe didn't doubt it was the truth.

Then they'd tied her to one of the old building's chunky antique radiators with sturdy climbing rope and left her alone with a mouldy blanket for warmth. The almost nightly ordeal of having to watch Renton masturbating had so far been the only harassment.

"Here it fuckin' comes ... ye wee bitch."

With a grunt, Renton threw his head back as once again, ropes of warm semen spattered Phoebe's shoulder, blonde hair and face. Adding to the crusty mess already on her skin. He stood over her panting as he stuffed himself back into his patched leather trousers and casually wiped his hand on her arm, "Pity I cannae do wha' I wannae do wi' ye lass. Bet ye've got a beautiful tight ass on ye."

"So why don't you?" Phoebe snapped. Then instantly regretted it. Might the question give Renton ideas? But she was curious. It had been weeks and none of the Reivers had laid so much as a finger on her - concentrating on poor Claire instead. Part of Phoebe wished they'd just kill her and have done with it.

Renton tapped the side of his nose, "That's fer us to know."

Phoebe guessed there had been almost a hundred Reivers camped in Fort Augustus when they'd passed through. But only her escort of half a dozen had made the journey south. The new chieftain of the Reiver clans who was rumoured to have taken over was up to something. But what?

"FUCKIN' CUNT BIT ME!" yelled a muffled voice from upstairs. The one they called Needles who might or might not be their leader? Phoebe couldn't be sure. She knew them all by sight but the voices all sounded pretty much the same.

BLAM!

The gunshot made her jump. It seemed that the woman Claire's ordeal had finally reached a merciful end. Phoebe wondered what lengths she'd have to go to for her own bullet. Then ...

"WHAT THE ..." Renton quickly shielded his eyes with one meaty paw as the hostel's cracked and grimy windows were filled with an impossibly bright flash of light from outside. Something so blindingly white it was as if evening had instantaneously become the brightest midday. A low rumble, like thunder followed, just as several of the other Reivers came charging downstairs snatching up weapons and pulling on armour.

"Rent? Woss goin' on?" Needles didn't give Renton chance to respond, but raised his favourite Mossberg and shoved his way out through the front door to investigate.

A warm wind gusted down from the north, rattling tree branches and roof tiles and pulling loose clumps of heather from the peaty ground. Ripples became wavelets on the surface of nearby Loch Ossian as Phoebe craned her neck to catch a glimpse of outside ...

... and was rewarded with the horrifying sight of a boiling orange mushroom cloud - just visible, climbing thousands of feet into the darkening sky.

"Wh-what's up that way Needles?" Phoebe heard Renton shout in a loud, panicky voice. Good. She was pleased to hear the bastard scared.

"Other side o' the Monadhliath mountains," answered Needles grimly, "Fort Augustus where we've just come from. Some fucker's tooled up wiv nukes and they've just taken out our camp."

"All o' them?"

Needles nodded, "All of them. Barbecued."

"It's miles away," Renton responded, awestruck, "but ... will there no' be radiation? Fallout or somethin'?"

"Twenty five, maybe thirty miles tops. But ye're right," Phoebe heard Needles coming quickly back inside, "get the Beech girl. We've movin' out."

Beech girl? Phoebe felt a chill in the pit of her stomach. How the hell did they know who she was?

"Where to?"

"Where else? Glasgow."

TO BE CONTINUED IN ...

PHOEBE BEECH CHAPTER ONE: GLASGOW