Forgotness: Book 1: 200m
It’s Tissington again

The phone rang. I rolled over and answered it. My husband muttered something nonsensical. Probably about ponies with wings. Zika Heads. I don’t know why Trident Force puts up with them. We’re supposed to be the cream of the crop, not a dumping ground for the mutant waste from the zika sluts. Just because they look like fantasy whores from animes and do what you want, you shouldn’t breed with them. Mutants for fuck’s sake.

Still, if I intended to continue my rise then I would have to abide by these ridiculous social standards and fashions.

I answered the phone: “Commander Colme.”

It was late in the evening but things suddenly took a turn for the better. A break-in at Hulland gate and I was the nearest officer with mutant-tracking experience. It was a side-line I had taken up some years before. Now that the submarines were immobile it kept my military life interesting. It was also a great excuse to get away from my family holiday. The fishing and shooting had not been great anyway.

I left him in bed and donned my uniform, left a note for the family help and marched out the door of the holiday cottage to the waiting car.

As soon as I was in the car it set off. It was a forty minute drive to Hulland Gate.

“Tell me.” I ordered the young Lieutenant who was sitting in the front seat beside the driver.

“Yes Ma’am. Hulland Gate was closing at six pm. Two liquid-based bombs were detonated in the gate window. Subsequently eight intruders made it though the gate before the guards were able to lock it down. Two were shot within the walls. Three have since been caught. Four have evaded capture so far. No military casualties. Civilian casualties: five wounded, all gate traders. The remaining four intruders have split up. Teams are in pursuit.”

I snorted. The teams would be useless. Under-trained, untested soldiers led by young idiots from rich families.

“Any of them caught on film?” I asked.

“Yes Ma’am,” he pulled some printouts from his folder and passed them to me.

They were not high quality, nor good angles, but I could see from their rags that they were mutants from the wetlands.

“Find out which team is after this one.” I passed the photographs back to the Lieutenant pointing to the the wetter who had gone east.

“Yes Ma’am,” he got on the radio.

Hulland Gate was a curious target. It was probably the most difficult gate to get in through. Tissington, just a few miles west was bigger and harder to protect and there were hundreds of miles of coastline, most were walled, but some were just chains across waterways. There were lookouts on land and patrols at sea. Admittedly the patrols would kill on sight unless they were certain it was legitimate traffic like gate-traders, Priests and Scandies, so maybe the wetters thought a gate was easier? They must have come up as gate traders. Or maybe they had no idea where they were? Mutants probably weren’t great map readers.

The driver pulled up inside Hulland Gate. I got out and inspected the damage, which was minimal, and took a look at the bodies of the mutants already killed. None had any major outward signs of mutation. Beyond their dire smell and the wretchedness of their clothing they could have passed for human. Though I felt I would have known had I met one in the street, however smartly dressed.

The Lieutenant came up and saluted.

“Ma’am, the mutant you are interested in is being tracked by Pursuit Team Two. They are currently heading north towards Turlowfields Lane. I have let them know you will be taking command in the next thirty minutes. We have a car waiting.”

I acknowledged the Lieutenant who snapped a salute, turned and marched off. I took one last look round and got in the waiting car.

“You know where to go?” I asked the driver, he nodded and we set off.

We drove to Dog Lane. I got out and let the car go. It was better to wait in the dark.

Four mutants all within a two mile radius of me. I could almost sense the hate in their revenge-crazed minds. It made me feel that I could just turn towards wherever they were hiding and point.

I waited. Night animals and birds moved about me. Bats swooped around in the dark with accuracy I was suddenly jealous of.

Then I heard the sound of the Pursuit Team clumsily working their way up the hill. They were a hundred yards east of me. I walked down the road to where I expected them to cross. I could see their torches now in the field below me. I found the tracks of the mutant before the team got to the road. Even in the misty moonlight they were clear to me. He had climbed the wall here, jumped down, flattening the longer grass in the ditch there, then crossed the road, across the ditch and up and over the wall here. I was inspecting the soft ground in the field on the far side when the team finally appeared. There were eight of them, most were breathing heavily.

“Corporal?” I asked, he stood to attention. “Have you caught sight of the mutant yet?”

“No Ma’am. But he is not far ahead Ma’am. I would estimate eight to ten minutes.”

“More like fifteen and he’s moving fast, getting further way.” I looked the team over. “Caps on, helmets away, packs off, you.”

I pointed to the soldier who was bent over trying to catch his breath.

“Take the helmets and packs back to the Gate. Yes all of them.” I saw him glance up at the Corporal with an appeal on his lips, useless worm of a man. Shouldn’t be a soldier. Would never make it in the Navy. “Corporal give me the map, right, call up the base and organise a line of soldiers along this road, here, in one hour.”

I pointed to the top of Gibfield Lane.

“That should catch him.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Right. He’s gone over the wall here and into the field beyond. We can easily track him through it. Do not, I repeat not, tread on his footprints, we may need to backtrack if he gets clever. Spread out, ten yards apart. Shoot on sight. On the double. Corporal, take the end of the line. Keep the line straight. We don’t want him slipping through.”

The Corporal shouted out my orders and the soldiers spread out along the road with me in the middle.

I jumped the wall and began to follow the mutant’s tracks.

When we reached the far side of the field I could see that he had stopped and turned round for a look, presumably having seen us.

There was an outbreak of shots to the west. I counted seven. Five rifles fired quickly, then a gap and followed by two pistol shots. Probably a wounded mutant being killed. Odd, normally we would want to take them alive to take intel: numbers, plans.

After that our Wetter’s tracks got more difficult to follow as he tried, where he could, to hide his route. When he crossed a stream or rivulet he would never come out opposite. We lost many minutes searching up and down the banks, looking for his footprints. And with these soldiers one could never be sure they hadn’t walked all over them.

Eventually we lost all sign of him.

I estimated that he was between twenty-five and thirty-five minutes ahead of us now. If the soldiers had been sent ahead as ordered we could still be in time.

Abandoning the tracking for the time being I ordered the soldiers to hold their line and to continue towards Gibfield Lane.

Some of the soldiers were finding it hard work marching through the damp heavy soil. I rather enjoyed their looks of pain; about time they did some real work for their money.

After another thirty minutes walking I could just make out Gibfield Lane on the horizon. The large Personnel Carrier making a dark rectangle against the night sky.

Ten minutes later we reached the road.

“Any sign, Captain?” It was pointless asking.

“No. Nothing our end.” There was a pause, I suppose he was waiting to see my uniform. “Commander, are you sure it came this way?”

“Not sure,” I replied and shook the Captain’s hand, “Commander Colme, but possible. He was headed north up this slope. But no, I can’t be certain. We’ve not seen any tracks for the last mile or so. It could have side-stepped us at quite a few points.”

“Captain Huntley,” he introduced himself. “So eight got in this time I hear?”

“Yes, eight. Four were stopped at the gate. We shot two inside the gatehouse. Three have already been caught and I suspect one was killed just now. You heard those shots? So three still on the lose. This one I was tracking up here and two more coming up the valley close to Gorse Lane.”

“Any pictures?” asked Captain Huntley.

“Some, not good ones yet, but I think there will be. The gate cameras weren’t damaged.” I explained.

“Any idea where they’re headed?”

“Not sure, this one seemed to be going straight north, Buxton maybe? But I’ve seen them taken in by the farmers sometimes. They make for cheap workers.”

“I’ve heard that. But still. Anyway,” the Captain continued. “I’m taking my men back to Ireton Barracks and you’ll be returning to the gate, Commander?”

“Oh no, I’ve not finished. I’ve not lost one yet. I’m sure I’ll pick up the scent soon.” I answered.

“Good luck Ma’am,” the Captain saluted. “If you need us you know where we are.”

The Captain collected his men into the truck and soon they drove off.

I looked back down the way we had come. Somewhere out there, maybe even watching us, was the mutant. I bit down my anger and wished I could have had a cigarette, but then the men would all be wanting one and I didn’t want to delay a minute longer.

My phone rang. It was the Admiral, Southern District, wanting to know what was going on. I told him what I knew, which wasn’t much, but it got him off the phone.

“Right. We’re on our own now.” I told the Corporal, though I thought I would be better off bringing in my own team of Trident sailors.

“Will they send down an airship Ma’am?” asked the Corporal.

“No Corporal we won’t be doing that.”

What a ridiculous question. Everyone wants to see one of the fabled airships. A bag of wind that can barely make headway in a mild breeze and everyone can see you coming from miles away. Submarines... But no one wants to talk about them. Even though it was us that saved them, us that made the tough choices and did what had to be done. I imagined grinding a cigarette into the ground. Like my barely sentient husband’s head.

“We’ll get them soon enough, Corporal. Right, we’re going back to the A517 where we last saw the tracks. It should be easier in daylight. Johnson you stay here in case we flush him out. And remember, shoot first.”

“Yes Sir.” Names came quickly when you worked in the military.

“Corporal, line them up, on the double.”

We climbed back over the wall and set off jogging back the way we had come.

Twenty minutes later we found his tracks again close to where we had lost them. Knowing that he had got further away from us now, I concentrated the men on either side of the tracks, only spreading out when we got to water. The mutant was using every trick in the book, at one point I even think he ran along a wall. It was a long night.

By dawn we were heading back towards Gibfield Lane. In fact almost the exact same point we had been before.

I climbed the wall and got onto the road. Up ahead I could see a body. I ran up, calling to the Corporal to Ready Arms.

It was Johnson. There was blood on the road behind his head. I knelt down and felt for his pulse. Still beating.

“Is he dead Ma’am?” Asked the Corporal as he joined me.

“No Corporal. He may have taken a blow to the head. Who’s Medic?”

“We don’t have one Ma’am.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” I searched Johnson’s body for any other wounds and found none. His pulse seemed strong.

“Johnson! Wake up Johnson.” I considered slapping him but then his eye lids flickered open. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“What?” he whispered, then he saw me. “Sir. Ma’am.”

Johnson sat up abruptly.

“Sorry, apologies, Ma’am,” then he looked at me first frightened and then pathetically slyly. I knew whatever was going to come next was going to be a lie.

“What happened here Johnson?” I asked. The other soldiers were gathered round now. Making it even less likely I was going to get the truth.

“Corporal. Will you send these men away, search the locality. He could be close.”

The Corporal sent two men up and two down on either side of both walls.

“Right Johnson tell me exactly what happened.”

“Yes Ma’am. I was,” Johnson began, “I was keeping watch, watched you go back down the hill and kept awake all night, as ordered. Saw nothing, no sign of the Wetter, but as dawn was breaking, when was that?”

“Two hours ago,” said the Corporal.

“Yes, two hours ago then, I was looking that way, south, when I...” Johnson paused to rub the back of his head. “The mutant hit me on the back of the head.”

I looked at the Corporal. He looked at me, waiting for me to respond.

“Johnson,” I started, “you are telling me that the mutant had already got over the road but came back to hit you on the back of the head?”

“Yes Ma’am,” I think Johnson was realising the weakness of his story. “He must have been dead close all along.”

“What? He was here, all along, even when we were here late last night. He was here?”

“Yes Ma’am. I suppose.”

There was a shout behind us and I looked round and saw a soldier barely five yards from me, over the wall and pointing excitedly at something on the ground. I got up and walked over.

Behind the wall was a thin patch of earth. It had been scraped away, clods of earth and grass lay around it. It was as if... as if...? As if someone had tried to bury themselves right under wall, covering themselves with grass and mud so they wouldn’t be seen.

“Dear God,” muttered the Corporal. “Sorry Ma’am.”

“Yes Corporal.”

“I didn’t think Johnson was telling the truth.”

“No Corporal. I still don’t. Not all of it anyway.”

“Johnson,” I turned to the soldier, “you seem to have a nasty cut on the back of your head. But you’ll make it. Get your gear together. We’re moving out.”

Johnson was trying hard not to smile. I wasn’t sure if it was relief at not being found a liar or joy at pulling a fast one on an officer and a woman at that. Little shit, I would make him pay later.

But first I wanted to kill this mutant. After all we had done to keep them out of Topland and this one had just lain here, feet away from where I stood, listening to what I said and had then attacked one of my idiot men just because he could. Just to send me a message that I couldn’t stop him. Well, we would see about that.

Looking downhill to the north I could make out the small strip of land that joined the spit of Hulland to the mainland. If I had got here twenty minutes earlier I might have seen him walking across.

Where was he headed?

Perhaps he hoped to disappear in Buxton, lots of people to mingle in with, maybe get a job, cash in hand. Or maybe he’d stay out in the countryside and try and get work on one of the farms.

Either way, he’d be leaving tracks that I could follow.

Time to get down to the bottom of the hill and see which way he went after crossing onto the mainland.

The Corporal came up to me.

“Ma’am. The men are tired. They’ve been on the move all night with little food or rest. They need a break Ma’am.”

“They’ve just had one Corporal. Now get them together. I want us down there.” I pointed to where the lane crossed from Hulland to the mainland, “in one hour.”

“Ma’am?” the Corporal began.

“Corporal,” I stopped him, “do you wish to disobey my order?”

“No Ma’am,” he rounded up the soldiers. There was a lot of groaning, pathetic lot.

Now, which way did the mutant go? There were no immediate tracks here, he must have either gone up the road or down the road before crossing the field but I had no doubt that he wanted to head north. They always did. I split the men up into two groups, the Corporal checking the field for signs downhill and I took a group uphill.

A few minutes later I found his footprints on a verge. We got to a small crossroads. I split my team in two again. I turned left and began going downhill. Again I found a print on a bit of mud on the road. I was getting used to his print: small, light shoe, very worn, probably found underwater.

We started jogging, the Corporal’s team cut across the field and met us half way down the hill. We were jogging into the mist.

“Corporal,” I said as he caught up, “tell your men we will have a rest when we get to sea level. I will call up a supply truck, maybe see if we can call in another troop for today’s work.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he replied. I made the call. If they wanted to give up I didn’t want them.

It looked like the mutant came down this lane and was heading north. It was amazing to think he could just stroll down here without a care, without anyone seeing him, without being shot dead.

I wondered how the other teams were getting on. It certainly sounded like one was killed last night so, two left plus my one.

We reached sea level and stopped. While the soldiers rested on the side of the road, having sneaky cigarettes when they thought I was far enough away, I combed the ground looking for tracks. He couldn’t have just continued strolling up the road towards Buxton? Could he be so casual, so cock sure of himself? My gaze went over to Private Johnson. I wondered what he was keeping secret. It didn’t make sense. He was attacked from behind, but why would a mutant attack him when they had already got past the line? If you are going to attack, why not kill? Why not take the gun? But if it wasn’t an attack, then what was it?

As I cast to the left and right of the road I tried to put myself into the mind of the mutant. What were his aims? Where was he headed? What would he do to throw off the pursuit?

Finally I sat down and took a look at the map.

It was madness to carry on up the road. You would end up going past the barracks at Kirk Ireton. But then you might not know about the barracks. On the other hand that way was north east. If you went west along the spit of land at the head of Carsington Water then... what? That spit of land disappeared underwater, but if you’re a Wetter what does that matter? That was the most direct way to Buxton. And going through water would throw the pursuit off wouldn’t it?

I walked over to where the lake that formed Carsington Water was closest to the sea, a patch of earth only yards wide separated the two bodies of water. It didn’t take long to find his small footprints again. He had come this way!

I heard a truck. It was the replacement patrol.

“Corporal!” I shouted as I marched back to the road, “change of plan.”

I could see the other soldiers suddenly paying attention.

“I’m taking the truck. I know where the mutant has gone. I may be able to cut him off if I am quick enough. I’ll send the truck back for you. It’ll take, I would estimate, three hours for it to come back. I would suggest you start back for Hulland Gate on foot.”

The Corporal did not look happy but he could break it to the men. The truck came down the hill and I strolled out into the middle of the road to flag it down.

I explained to the driver what was happening and swung up into the cab as we headed off. I was glad to be free of those soldiers. I had no expectations of the new ones in the truck either, but I was certain that they were glad to be staying in the truck instead of having to get out and march somewhere though.

It took longer than I thought to make our way along all the narrow lanes round Carsington Water before we reached the faster B5035 and turned to head south again to Knockdown.

There was a radio in the cab so I contacted Hulland to let them know the change of plans.

They confirmed that there had been a kill last night and that the other two mutants were still unaccounted for. I signed off.

The truck had the food for my previous troop, their loss I thought, as I tucked into some cold tinned stew and tinned cake. The sugars gave me a good lift.

I considered my options and checked the map again.

In theory, the mutant would come ashore south of Knockdown and would have an almost straight run to Buxton. He could go cross country or hitch a ride if he didn’t look too deformed or smell too bad. Or what? Could there be another plan? I wished I knew what he wanted to do here.

Most just wanted to settle on dry land, work, have a family, help other Wetters get in, maybe get family in.

But the thing with Private Johnson still puzzled me: why attack when you didn’t need to, unless he was just stupid and scared. It seemed hard to believe anyone could be scared of that layabout Johnson, but then Wetters were weak bodied and weak minded so one could never underestimate their stupidity.

We arrived at Knockerdown and I got the soldiers out. They looked much the same as the previous troop and about as useless. Yet again I found myself longing for my Trident sailors. They would have shown this lot what real military should look like.

Still, it was all I had for the time being. I was about to send the truck away and line up the soldiers when the driver called down to me.

I climbed back up into the cab.

“Colme. Over,” I said into the microphone, clicking it off to hear the reply.

“Sir, we believe we may have just seen your Wetter er... Ma’am. Over.”

I ignored the mistake but found the message hard to believe.

“Are you sure? Over.”

“Yes Ma’am. We saw a man about a mile north of us. He seemed to be checking our position. When we reacted to his presence he disappeared. We’ve checked with the two local farms, they had no workers on the west shore. There are four of us but our orders are to stay in position. Over.”

“When was this? Over.”

“About ninety minutes ago, Ma’am.”

“Thank you. We will be sending a patrol down now. Over.”

I handed back the radio to the driver.

“You’re staying with us. Things have changed.”

Checking positions? He could have escaped into the mainland? Instead, he risked getting caught by going south!

This was not a random wetter break-in. This was something else. This was an operation. A reconnaissance mission? Was that what this was?

I set my men out in a static line a mile or more long, each soldier two hundred yards apart and spent the rest of the afternoon going along the line checking the fields of view of each soldier, making sure they knew where each position was on either side and making sure they were not visible from the front. Hopefully the mutant would not see them until it was too late, if he came back north at all.

I sent the truck for more food and set up a rear base to keep the soldiers supplied with coffee and rations. This would be another long night.

By sundown everything was in place. My new Corporal and I took it in turns to check the soldiers and made sure no one was asleep. It was four hours now since the wetter had been spotted by the outpost, which was probably at least 2 hours away. It was possible that he had seen our preparations and was planning to slip through during the night.

The weather was not bad but being so close to sea level meant a lot of soldiers were lying on wet ground in low cloud. Good conditions for someone trying to creep past us quietly.

At midnight I tried to catch some sleep in the cab, I had been up for the past twenty-four hours and felt as though I should sleep but I couldn’t. At two in the morning I decided that I had failed yet again to capture the mutant. It occurred to me that he could easily just swim past without giving us a second thought.

I took half the men and headed down to Hognaston point where the outpost had said they had spotted the mutant. We radioed down for one of the guards to meet us there.

It was nearly dawn when we arrived at a wooded dip tucked round from the point where he had been seen. It was still in deep shadow. I recognised the footprints among the trees. It looked like he had had some primitive meal of raw cabbage and snails. I would have admired that in a soldier but in a mutant it just seemed typically disgusting.

The soldier from the outpost was pretty unhelpful but I hardly expected more. My men were tired and surly.

Despite my lack of sleep, or maybe because of it, I could feel my anger and hatred for this mutant turning to rage. His ability to evade us was infuriating.

As the sun rose we turned and headed back to the truck.

Where, I wondered, would he go next? Was he mapping our southern defences? Was he reconnoitering for a full assault or maybe he was looking for somewhere he could sneak in a larger group of Wetters for an attack inland?

I would have to tell someone higher up about this. Though what would I say: a mutant was seen near a lookout post on our southern border when normally they try to head north after a break-in? It did not seem much to go on.

I pulled out the map. If it were me, where would I want to take a look next? Where would be the next obvious point of interest?

I barely had to look at it to see the answer: if I was correct the mutant would want to take a look at Tissington. It was the next promontory to the west, it was our main southern port and it held a lot of military, both army and navy.

So, last night he checked out the outpost then had a meal and a rest before heading west. Probably thinking about swimming across in the early hours of the morning. In fact, right about now.

As we marched back to the truck I phoned through to the navy command at Tissington but it was too early to get anyone with the authority to send a ship round to the B5056 firth. Despite my frustration I kept my voice calm as I explained what I needed and that, as soon as a commanding officer could be reached, they were to call me. At least I could feel some confidence now that I was dealing with the Navy.

But it was still another hour before my call was returned, by which time we were back at the truck. I explained again that I thought a wetland spy had probably crossed over to the Tissington mainland and that he was in the hills above the base noting their defences. The officer said he would raise the threat level, notify the various forces involved and await my arrival.

I gathered up all the men, got them back on the truck and then ordered it to drive me round to Tissington first before taking the men back to their barracks.

It was a long drive whichever way we went: by fast road north all the way to Newhaven and then back south on the A515 or curling round the coast along the country lanes. Neither way was good for my frustration.

I told the driver to take the fast roads as the ride would be smoother. I fell asleep almost immediately.

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on G𝘰𝘰gle to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.