Chapter One : Back From the Dead (part 1 of 3)

Sherwood Forest Visitor Centre, Late Night.
A bunch of computer programmers.

“Where’s Fetter? His Pizza’s getting all eaten.”

Steve clicked his fingers in Majid’s face, “Hey! Concentrate! Come on, which is faster?”

Majid sighed, “Well, obviously the U.S.S Enterprise could well whup the Millenium Falcon’s ass in a race. It’s, like, twenty times faster.”

Craig looked up from his screen, “But Han Solo said the Falcon could make point five past light speed. That’s fast, in’t it?”

Majid shook his head in disgust. He didn’t take his eyes off his PC screen, “You’re such a patak. The Enterprise goes faster than that at warp two. By the time it gets to warp eight or nine, it’s just wiping its backside with the Falcon for kicks.”

Steve nodded as he returned to eating Ben Fetter’s pizza, “I knew it. Captain Kirk kicks ass.”

Craig was still stuck at ‘patak’; “Did you just swear at me in Indian?”

“Why would I use an Indian language when I’m Pakistani?”

“Oh. Then what was it?”

“Klingon.”

The PC-lab door creaked open. It was Ben.

“Where the hell have you been, loser?” Majid didn’t even look up at the late-comer; he was too busy rooting around for his big red database book that had probably magically made its way onto Steve’s desk again.

“Come on, mate,” Craig took his last bit of pizza and threw the box onto the floor, “Centre’s opening in a week. We haven’t got long to get these things finished.”

“They are finished,” said Ben, “Finished as they need to be.”

The hoarseness of his voice made his work colleagues look up.

Steve said what they were all suddenly thinking, “Mate, you look like shit.”

Looking exhausted, Ben dropped his rucksack down onto his desk. It landed with a tinny thud, “There anyone else in the building?”

“Nope, just us,” said Majid. Ah-ha. Big red database book.

Ben took a gun out of the front pocket of his rucksack.

“Hey, check that out!” Steve grinned in awe at the weapon. Then his expression changed, “Mate, is that real?”

Ben fired three times and blew all three of his friends’ brains across the room. Their surprise hadn’t even had time to give way to terror. They died with bloody, shocked faces.

A different type of shock drove Ben Fetter’s body on, now, in a mechanical haze. The CD-ROM, he thought. The can. The match. Follow the plan. Do what the man had told him to do.

But downstairs, unknown to Majid and the others, there was, as it happened, someone else in the Sherwood Forest Visitor Centre that night. The cleaner, ‘Uncle Albert’, heard the noise.

Them bloody computer geeks playing on them bloody shooting games again with the speakers turned up full bloody blast. Better go up and make sure they aven’t left pizza boxes all over the floor like last night.

The three bodies at Ben’s feet as he worked were the first dead bodies the computer programmer had ever seen in his thirty-five years. They wouldn’t be the last.

SIX YEARS LATER

“Thanks for that, Angela. So it’s time for my next guest now; a man who’s been the public face of a very successful initiative in Nottingham. As you know, a few years ago, Nottingham was at the heart of the most severe gang warfare seen in the city in modern times – culminating in that terrible explosion in the city centre. Not long afterwards, there was a big push by the local council, the police force and the residents themselves and for the last year, Nottingham has been reported to have among the lowest rates of violent crime in the country. I’m very pleased to welcome Jonathan Eustace, the Sheriff of Nottingham. Jonathan, hello”.

“Good morning, Andrew.”

“Kick it!”

Scott looked up at his friend and accomplice, “Kick it?”

“Just give it a good kick!” said Elton again, “Look at it, the wood’s all rotten, you could easily take a - what you looking at me like that for?”

“How many places we done?”

“I dunno, loads.”

“And how many times have I kicked a door or window to get in?”

Elton shrugged, “I dunno. A few.”

Scott clipped him round the ear, “None, you tit!”

“Ow! Mate, what the-?”

“You fail to appreciate that I’m an artiste.”

“Yeah,” Elton said, rubbing his ear, “Piste artiste.”

Scott ignored his best friend and took out his ‘paintbrush’. He inserted one end into the window frame.

“Now, stand back,” he said, “Watch the master at work.”

“So, congratulations, Jonathan, on completing the restoration of the council building’s roof.”

“Thank you, Andrew – yes, there has been a lot of blood, sweat and tears that’s gone into the repair work. The dome at the top of the council house is an iconic part of Nottingham’s skyline and all the time it was damaged, it was a reminder to everyone of the lawlessness and crime eating away at our good city. Now the damage from the blast has been fully repaired and the dome and clock have been returned to their former glory – and the people can see that we were as serious about fixing it as we are about fixing the crime that caused it in the first place.”

“Wow, look at this stuff..!” Elton couldn’t believe his eyes, “How many Playstations and Xboxes does one house need, anyway?”

Scott was very pleased with himself, “What did I tell you? This lot’ve got disposable income coming out their bloody ears. Students probably. Come on, bag up.”

“Yes, let’s talk about that. Crime of all kinds is at an all time low in Nottingham, that’s clear for all to see – but there’s been some debate about the methods that have been employed.”

“That’s absolutely natural, Andrew – after all, taken out of context things like curfews, ID cards, extra powers for police…they can all be seen as, I don’t know, draconian or overly authoritarian.”

“Well, those extra powers for the police that you mentioned, they include the ability to arrest and detain without charge for nearly two months.”

“Used mostly as a deterrent, I assure you. But as I say, all those things have been completely endorsed and supported by the people of Nottingham. They saw crime rates drop almost overnight.”

“You’ve had approval across the board, have you?”

“Well, Andrew, of course there has been the odd dissenter. But the vast majority of the people of Nottingham have appreciated – and continue to appreciate – a truth that is often hard to accept but still, no less true.”

“And that is?”

“Too much freedom breeds crime.”

Elton was gleefully stuffing Xbox games into his rucksack when he heard it.

“What was that? You think it was the -”

Scott put his finger to his lips and Elton fell silent. They both stood still and listened.

Nothing.

Scott breathed again and shook his head, “Mate, you’re such a -”

A deafening crash rang out followed by the unmistakable sound of hordes of armed police storming the house.

Ignoring the sudden warm sensation in his trousers, Scott dropped his bag, grabbed Elton and sprinted back towards the kitchen window.

“What about me games?” Elton wailed as his rucksack fell over and spilled the green CD cases all over the floor.

“Get in here, you piss-head!” Scott yelled. He pulled Elton into the kitchen and slammed the door shut. They turned to the window they’d come in by to find it had swung shut – and what was left of the latch had managed to hook itself back together. Elton reached forward to unhook it.

“Sod that, just kick it!” Scott yelled and put his boot through the whole damn thing.

The pair only managed to squeeze halfway out of the window, though, before coming face to boot with some very large men with guns.

“Freeze you little bastards,” one of them shouted unbelievably loud, “you’re under arrest.”

“Thank you for joining us, Sheriff, and best of luck in your continued fight against crime.”

“Thanks, Andrew, but luck won’t even enter into it.”


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