The Legend of Dark City

Chapter 34

Captain Stokes was an old school type of soldier. He was retired by the time the plague had struck but he responded to the call for volunteers and he made his way to Dark City to assist in any way he could. He was fifty years old when the plague started and he had caught the disease early. He watched his wife and neighbours die so had nothing more to lose when he left his home in Brighton to serve his country.

He was six foot one and held himself ramrod straight. The plague had ravaged the right hand side of his face and he draped a scarf across it when the sun burned his skin. The rest of the time he wore his scars with defiance and was somewhat scornful of those who went to elaborate lengths to cover themselves.

Ex servicemen, part timers and members of all the armed forces had arrived at the bunker and a slightly arbitrary allocation of roles and ranks had ensued. A few realistic people refused positions of authority and a few ambitious ones asked to be considered for leading roles. The plague continued to reduce their numbers and years later most people were where they wanted to be. Not everyone was happy though.

A troop now might contain soldiers and members of the air force or navy. They would also contain both men and women. Uniforms were a mixture of styles and colours but this was preferred to jeans and other items of civilian clothes. The times had changed and it was widely accepted that some of the rules which had formerly applied would have to be relaxed.

It was difficult for people like Captain Stokes to adapt to the post plague world. His army experience had been very traditional. He had been screamed at and berated during training and had suffered punishments when he had stepped out of line. His kit and personal appearance were inspected and criticised and he had flourished under the guidance of his superiors. He would have a chance to pass on his experience to this new army.

He had tried to introduce marching drills but they had been rejected in favour of fitness training. He had tried to standardise the uniform but that was not feasible. Captain Stokes had been disappointed at the relaxing of rules and couldn't help but think that discipline was slipping. He was allocated his own platoon and charged with searching the North East. Once on the road he could ensure that his troops followed his exacting standards.

Sergeant Sinclair was now thirty five. He had been twenty five and a private when the plague came and he had made his way to the bunker after his recovery because he had nowhere else to go. He hoped that there would be food and medicines and power. It would be easier than trying to survive in the lawless city where he had been living. He packed his kit and headed for Wiltshire looking for a new home and a new family.

The lesions which affected those who caught the disease varied greatly in size. Sinclair had a number of small scars dotted all over his face. It meant that it was difficult to prevent irritation from the sun with a strategically placed scarf or patch. It was necessary for him to wear a hood when he was out in the open.

The bunker was an amazing place full of stores and equipment which they may never use. Sinclair found himself in a force made up of RAF, naval and army personnel. Over the years they had trained together and learned to work together. Now after ten years he would be going on a proper mission in search of immunes who would be brought back to Dark City to save the human race.

The sergeant was excited to be heading out with a loaded gun to do what he had been trained to do. He had been told about the mission and its importance but he didn't really care what the reason for the trip was he just wanted to be out there. His elation at finally going into action was dulled when he was informed that he would be in a platoon led by Captain Stokes.

He was a soldier and that meant that he had to follow orders. He did query the decision though and he was given a reasonable explanation. The commander knew that Captain Stokes was a stickler for the rules and he wanted Sinclair to be a buffer between him and the rest of the troops. It was not ideal but he had been trusted with a job and he would do it. He had come a long way from being a slightly wayward private with a vast appetite for beer to being a sergeant with a mission.

Dark City had become Sergeant Sinclair's home and sanctuary. He had been heading nowhere at the age of twenty five and now he was a sergeant. He would not have made that rank in the old style army. The lack of available alcohol had been a large factor in his redemption and he rarely thought about drinking now. Who would have thought that the Seaside Plague would be a positive in his life?

On the morning of their departure Captain Stokes made a show of inspecting his platoon and then he had them form up and march away. They had a long way to go and they were carrying a lot of kit. If they were going to have to march in formation all the way this was going to be a very long journey indeed.