Yellow Death: Atonement: Can the price of freedom be too high? Book 3 of the Yellow Death Chronicles Read online

  Contents

  Title page

  Copywrite - Atonement

  Introduction by the author

  Chapter 1 - Surprise!

  Chapter 2 - The Price of Freedom

  Chapter 3 - Belly of the Whale

  Chapter 4 - Induction

  Chapter 5 - Living with the enemy

  Chapter 6 - Final Preparations

  Chapter 7 - The Crime

  Chapter 8 - The Punishment

  Chapter 9 - Bearing the Unbearable

  Chapter 10 - Thinking the Unthinkable

  Chapter 11 - Not Quite As Planned

  Chapter 12 - It begins

  Chapter 13 - Improvisation

  Chapter 14 - Sledgehammer

  Chapter 15 - Breakout

  Chapter 16 - Plan B

  Chapter 17 - Extreme Measures

  Chapter 18 - The Reckoning

  Chapter 19 - Loose Ends

  Chapter 20 - Reunion

  Chapter 21 - The Sharks

  Chapter 22 - Confrontation

  Chapter 23 - End Game

  Chapter 24 - A Dose of Truthfulness

  Chapter 25 - A Gentle Push

  Chapter 26 - The Picnic

  Chapter 27 - New Direction

  Appendix 1: Battle Orders

  Appendix 2: CUG Compound

  Appendix 3: Peace Mantra

  Glossary

  What Has Gone Before . . .

  Book 4 Yellow Death: Anniversary

  Acknowledgements

  Yellow Death: Atonement

  Book 3 of the Yellow Death Chronicles

  by

  Peter R. Hall

  Yellow Death: Atonement

  Book three of the Yellow Death Chronicles

  First published May 2022

  Copyright © Peter R Hall 2022

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form or binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Original text written and formatted using Scrivener.

  Front cover image of a hooded man by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay

  Other books in this series are:

  Book 1. Yellow Death: Arrival

  Book 2. Yellow Death: Aftermath

  Book 4. Yellow Death: Anniversary

  Further books in the series are being planned . . . .

  For more information, email the author at [email protected]

  Website: https://peterhallauthor.com/

  Sign up to the author’s newsletter for exclusive bonus content including deleted scenes and the free ebook version of book 4.

  Introduction

  Welcome to book 3 of the Yellow Death Chronicles. If you need a refresher of the story so far, a summary is in included at the back of this book.

  At the end of the book you will find a map of the CUG compound, plus a list of Yellow Cross fighting units and radio calls signs. There is also a glossary of military terms and acronyms used. None of this is needed to enjoy the book, but may enhance your enjoyment.

  Above photo: The author operating an 81mm mortar at the British Army Training Grounds on Salisbury Plains.

  If you enjoy this book, please do me a massive favour and post a review on Amazon - it makes such a difference.

  Book 4 in the series - Yellow Death: Anniversary - is a novella and is free if you sign up to my mailing list. Go to www.peterhallauthor.com, scroll to the bottom of the page and enter your email address. You can unsubscribe at any time. Although a short read, I can assure you it is packed with surprises including a surprise birth, a terrible death, and a new adversary. I look forward to supplying you with your free ebook.

  CHAPTER 1

  Surprise!

  All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.

  Sun Tzu (544–496 BCE)

  Cal lay on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Occasionally, he wriggled in a vain attempt to reduce the throbbing pain from his lower spine. His earlier stroll around the estate was enjoyable, but may have been a mistake.

  The late afternoon sun was still high in the sky. The sounds of birdsong and the bleating of sheep from nearby fields came through the open window. It all seemed so peaceful and idyllic—contrary to the turmoil in his mind.

  He had come so close to destroying the CUG. In the last ten weeks the Yellow Cross community had become an impressive fighting force. It was his private army of retribution for Juliet’s horrific death. But only days before the planned attack, they discovered the CUG’s female prisoners—the domestics— had been moved into the firing line. It would be impossible to go ahead with the assault on the CUG without killing many of the domestics.

  Tonight there would be a citizen’s meeting to vote whether to continue with the attack. In the meantime, Cal had nothing to do but wait. To wait for the inevitable. Cal knew the settlers well. He could predict how most of them would vote. They would argue and debate for hours, but this was a gut decision. Cal knew of over twenty people who would vote against the attack—too many to continue.

  After pushing himself to the limit for so long, it was odd to have free time. Cal considered tidying his room, organising his notes, or cleaning his weapons. Somehow, these activities seemed trivial and pointless. He opened one of his favourite books—Alexander the Great. Concentration eluded him and his eyes skimmed over the words without taking them in. Eventually, he fell into a fitful doze.

  A small green box on his bedside table emitted a high-pitched beeping. It took several seconds for Cal to register the noise and the implications.

  “Christ!”

  He leapt off the bed and screamed from the excruciating pain in his back.

  One of his biggest fears during the training was a raid from a CUG patrol. In order to give some warning, he had placed a motion sensor at the entrance to the estate. The beeping box was the sign something had triggered the device. Perhaps it was just a rabbit, or a short circuit. Or maybe an armed convoy was speeding towards the Manor House.

  Cal had placed the sensor where the entrance lane joined the public highway, seven hundred metres away. The lane was narrow, overgrown, and potholed, so progress would be slow. Even so, they only had a brief warning.

  He took a deep breath to steady himself.

  Get a grip on yourself, man. You’ve thought about this, planned for it, rehearsed it. Stay calm and follow the plan!

  Cal grabbed an air horn from the table and held it out of his window. He pressed the button three times. The raucous noise echoed across the fields, causing a nearby flock of sheep to scatter. Cal rushed to the front of the building, gritting his teeth against the back pain. Another three blasts through the open window.

  After grabbing his rifle, Cal threw a knotted rope out the window down the back wall. Moments later, he had lowered himself to the ground. A pull of a second chord caused his means of escape to fall in a heap at his feet. Cal threw the rope under a clump of bushes where it was hidden.

&nb
sp; He took a few seconds to catch his breath and let the spasm in his back subside. Bracing himself for more pain, Cal jogged towards the main Yellow Cross entrance. The next few moments would be critical.

  Samuel stood near the front entrance to the Manor House, squinting under the searing sun. He wiped sweat from his brow, wishing he had worn his hat that day. Samuel was with Richard, Saman and Joyce discussing the dilemma of the CUG prisoners. Three blasts from an air horn interrupted the conversation and made Samuel jump.

  “What the devil was that?”

  The group looked at each other, confused.

  “Some sort of horn, like they used to set off at football matches,” Joyce said. “I’ve not heard one of those since the Yellow Death.”

  “Sounds like it came from behind the Manor House,” Saman said.

  A further three blasts sounded, this time much louder.

  “That was from the front,” Saman said.

  Samuel frowned. “What the hell’s going on?”

  The answer came in the form of the high-pitched screams from multiple vehicle engines being over-revved. That could only mean one thing—his stomach churned with dread.

  “Christ Almighty! It’s the CUG.”

  Seconds later, a Panther armoured car, followed by two trucks, came into view around the corner. The vehicles skidded to a halt in the Manor House courtyard.

  A soldier brandishing a megaphone and baton jumped from the SUV. “My name is Captain Clarke,” he boomed through the megaphone. “This is an official CUG inspection and levy collection. All members of this settlement are to report for roll call—immediately!”

  While he repeated his command, several armed men jumped from the vehicles. A machine gun mounted on the roof of the Panther pointed at Samuel and his group.

  “You there!” Clarke shouted. “Form a line here. Quickly. Move!”

  After a few minutes, a line of twenty-seven settlers stood nervously before the Manor House. Even Benji and the other two settlement dogs were tied up by the entrance. The Captain had exchanged his megaphone for a clipboard. He strutted along the settlers flicking back and forth through the pages. Unlike most of his soldiers, Clarke was clean shaven, revealing a down turned mouth and prominent chin. His face appeared fixed with a sour expression.

  “Which of you is… Samuel Dickinson?” he shouted.

  “Over here,” Samuel said.

  “Are you still in charge here?”

  “Yes, I am. At least I’m one of the three council members.”

  Clarke glared at him.

  “Sorry. Yes I am, sir,” Samuel corrected himself, remembering earlier CUG visits.

  “Good. I’ve got thirty-eight names on my roster here. Where’s the rest of you?”

  The CUG were unaware of the Brothers, so they were not on their list.

  “I expect they’re all working in the fields… sir. We’re harvesting our crops now. Some of the fields are a fair distance away.”

  “I see. Very well. Have you had any changes to your personnel since our last visit? Any additions to your settlement?”

  “No. I don’t believe so.”

  “You don’t believe so? You mean you don’t know for sure?”

  “No… I mean, yes. There are no additions to the settlement, sir.”

  Clarke stared at him with a sneer on his face that made it clear he expected nothing but deception from the settlers. “Well, we’ll see about that—you’d better not be hiding anything from us.”

  Clarke went along the row of settlers, taking their names and ticking them off on his list. Eventually, he was satisfied everyone present was in their records. Clarke stood back to make an announcement.

  “Now listen in. Your security levy this quarter, based on your settlement acreage and population, amounts to five hundred kilos of provisions or equivalent supplies.”

  The settlers gasped and cursed under their breath.

  “But that’s double what you took last time,” Samuel said.

  “Silence!” Clarke shouted. “The next person to say a word out of line will be punished.”

  “Mr Dickinson. You may send ten of your people to collect the levy. Everyone needs to be back here in twenty minutes. My men will assist you.”

  He made a hand sign and three soldiers ran towards the Manor House entrance.

  “Please,” Samuel said. “Five hundred kilos is an enormous amount. We’ll never find that much food. Even if we did, we’d starve.”

  “The clock is running, Mr Dickinson. I suggest you don’t waste any of your time.”

  Samuel realised there was no point in arguing. He dispatched people to different parts of the settlement. Sounds of crashing furniture and breaking crockery came from inside the Manor House. The CUG thugs were ransacking the place, looking for provisions and settlers in hiding.

  Twenty minutes later, the settlers had stacked a sizable pile of boxes and sacks next to the CUG vehicles. When weighed, it came to less than four hundred kilos.

  Captain Clarke and Sergeant Kane began inspecting the haul.

  “This is rather a mixed bag of goods,” Clarke said.

  “Sir, look at this,” Kane said, holding up a potato he had taken from a sack.

  Clarke inspected it. “Hmm. Very poor quality. The worms have been at it. We’ll have to throw half of it away. Are there more like that, Sergeant?”

  “Yes, sir. It looks pretty much the same right through the sack.”

  Clarke turned to Samuel. “Trying to pass off inferior goods to us, are you?”

  “No, sir. Of course not. I keep telling you, it’s all we’ve got. It’s been a bad harvest. And if you take all this, we’ve got precious little to fall back on.”

  Two soldiers appeared through the main entrance. “Can’t find anything else of value, sir,” one of them shouted to Clarke. “Of course, it’s a big old building. There could be hiding places anywhere. If we could have more time, sir?”

  “No,” Clarke shouted. “We’ll not be staying a moment longer than we have to.”

  Again, he turned to Samuel. “You wouldn’t be stupid enough to hide anything from us would you? If you own up now, I’ll be lenient. However, if I find out later on you’ve lied about your supplies, there’ll be the harshest punishment. Somebody will go up against the wall. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir. I promise. We don’t have any hidden supplies. You’ve cleaned us out.”

  Clarke took a few steps backwards so he could address all the settlers.

  “Your levy was five hundred kilos of provisions. We deem what you have provided is equivalent to three hundred. In view of your failure to meet the required levy, I am authorised—in fact obliged—to take payment in kind.”

  He paused before strutting up the line of settlers and back. Samuel suspected Clarke was enjoying this moment and wanted to extend it as much as possible.

  “We shall take two of your women into our service in lieu of taxes. They’ll be returned should you, at some point, make up the deficit and deliver it to our headquarters.”

  “No. Please don’t do this,” Samuel said.

  “Silence! You’re really beginning to try my patience.”

  The guards knew from experience this was a tense moment. Fearful the settlers might offer resistance, the soldiers held their guns at the ready. Two of them paced behind the settlers. The imposing machine gun mounted on the Panther pointed directly at Samuel.

  Clarke strolled along the line, stopping to appraise each of the younger women. The women looked towards the floor, hoping to make themselves invisible.

  “This one,” Clarke said, pointing at Morag.

  She jumped as if touched by a cattle prod. “No, please. Not again.”

  But a guard had already grabbed her arms from behind and a second man bound her wrists tightly with a cable tie. They began pushing her, against her will, towards the trucks.

  “C’mon darlin’. Don’t make this more difficult than needs be,” a soldier said, forcing her forwa
rds with a gun barrel. Morag looked back at the settlers. “Please, please, don’t let them take me.”

  Samuel clenched his fists, digging his fingernails into his palms. Guns or no guns, he was on the point of throwing himself at Clarke. Jane stood next to him and put her hand on his arm to restrain him. “This isn’t the right time,” she whispered.

  The soldiers bundled Morag in the back of the middle truck, while Clarke strutted along the line again. “And this one,” he said, indicating Tracy.

  Philip stood next to her. “No, man! For God’s sake, she’s only sixteen.”

  Clarke turned and slashed his baton across Philip’s face in a single reflexive move. Philip collapsed to his knees clutching his head, blood seeping through his fingers. Julie broke the line to run to him and several guards pointed their weapons at her, but Clarke held up his hand to indicate restraint.

  The soldier behind Tracy grabbed her, but she was not going quietly and began struggling ferociously, biting his hand. A second soldier came to help, and they pushed her to the ground and cable tied her wrists behind her. The soldier bitten by Tracy bent down, his face inches from hers. “You’re going to pay for that later on, you bitch.”

  Two soldiers dragged Tracy, struggling and screaming to the middle truck. A few settlers mumbled angrily and several shuffled forwards. In response, the soldiers raised their rifles and tightened their grip on the triggers. One wrong movement would start a massacre.

  Clarke cleared his throat. “That, ladies and gentlemen, concludes our business for today.”

  He held out a piece of paper towards Samuel, who was puzzled.

  “Well, take it man,” Clarke said. “That’s your official receipt for goods received. We’re not thieves, you know.”

  Samuel took the paper, and with supreme effort, resisted the urge to reply to the officer.

  With practised efficiency, the soldiers withdrew to their vehicles, making sure they trained their guns on the settlers the entire time. The engines started and began revving. Tracy was still screaming from inside the middle truck and her cries were joined by the sound of soldiers laughing and taunting.