Chapter 3

The summer has been a good  one. Late August was still warm and the sunny weather was still going  strong. Yea for global warming? I was in my house in a room that I had  converted into a weight room.

The Grave Chill effects had been gone for  three weeks and I am feeling good. I am working through a hammer curl  set with a monitor showing the news. I like a distraction while working  out as many people do too.

“The impeachment process against  President Robertson over the military operation “National Liberty”  disaster two years ago is expected to enter the final Congressional vote  in the next few days…”

I shake my head at this knowing what happens  in a Zone Breach. President Robertson fed most of his Zone Operatives  and their military support units into a number of zones. They went in  with faulty zone breach closers and were torn to pieces. This has  reduced the US's ability to respond to breaches on the mainland. Rumours  are that the US authorities are trying to poach Zone Operatives from  other countries. That as you imagine this is not going over well.  International tensions were high enough without that.

The Administration tried to cover up the  scale of the disaster and claimed that it was an overall success.  However, later someone leaked the truth and shit hit the fan. President  Robertson had been elected as a response to the appearance of the Zone  Breaches. People panicked around the world and the US voted Robertson in  to office as a radical religious conservative candidate. He and his  Government made the old “America First” policies seem tame. The US  international reputation is really bad at the moment.

“China and Russia are still stalling in  the United Nations on their Void Zone Breaches figures claiming that  they are matters of National Security…”

China and Russia when the Zone Breaches first  appeared and we realised the threats they are locked down hard.  Information on what’s happening in those countries is hard to come by.  Several countries are mimicking them but many are more open now.  International cooperation minus these three however has been improving.

“The European Union, the CANZUK Alliance,  India and the Pacific Co-operative have announced a new series of  information exchange deals to help in containing Void Zone Breaches.  This is in light of recently confirmed breach closers here in the United  Kingdom. Ministers say that….”

The images on screen change from the news  desk to footage of Henry Griffon. He is a Zone Operative like me and is  the public face of our merry band of misfits. From South London from one  of the estates around Elephant & Castle way. He is often compared  to a young Idris Elba just slightly taller and bulkier. Many people  swoon when he is around smiling.

He likes the limelight and a few days ago was  to have confirmed to have made the third successful breach closure. He  also was part of the team that did the first one. Since then, he’s been  dragged onto all the news channels by the Ministry of Defence and Home  Office to bolster national support.

I have met him on the job and he is an  alright guy. We have done a few missions together and work well  together. Friends even. If he wants the dog and pony show well good on  him. The deal I made with the Ministry has me classed as an employed  contractor with no public relations duties and my privacy protected as  much as possible. I really don’t want the press up in my business. I  value my privacy.

The news continues with reports of Void Zone activity across the nation. No major alerts are so good for me.

“More time off for me!” I smile at this.

The news carries on with the normal stories  after the established Void Zone reports section. I have no more interest  and will catch up with the rest later. I put the dumbbell down and use  the remote to switch the channel to a music one. I use the music to pump  me up as I finish my planned workout. Training never ends.

## ## ## ##

After the work out, I shower and after  getting out wipe the mirror of the condensed steam. The figure looking  back at me has changed a lot in the last four years mostly for the  better. At 6’3 and twenty-five years of age, some would say these should  be the best years of my life. For the last five years I have been  working out extensively and my body shows it is far from the flabby  person I was. I have aimed for stamina over strength in my training as I  quickly realised that the missions, I am sent on are trials of  endurance. The soldiers who set up my training regimen agreed  completely.

My black hair is wet and my hazel green eyes  are clear. Some stubble but I cannot be bothered to shave and probably  will not for a few more days. A strong jaw and above average nose. The  funny thing about me is that my eyebrow line makes it like I nearly  always glaring when I am at peace or even happy.

I dry off and change into my usual cheap bulk t-shirt and jeans. I head downstairs and wander towards the kitchen.

“Johnny, can we talk?” Comes from the living room.

I stop at this and my good mood evaporates I  know that tone. A fight is coming. I am about to face again one of the  main reasons I don’t want any press in my life. I let out a deep breath  and turn towards the doorway. I am on the autism spectrum but I am a  functional adult. I am not good at reading others emotional states but I  have learned this tone in my mother’s voice. Far too much experience.

I enter the living room and there in her  chair is the shrunken figure of my mother. The last seven years have not  been kind to her. Her woes started when she married my father but  kicked into high gear six years ago.

My father was a marine and this was his last  post before retirement. He was out one day with my two younger sisters  and as they were going around a roundabout when a drunk driver ploughed  into them killing all three. My mother and I both did not take it well.

She got depressed and quiet withdrawing into  herself. I got angry and lashed out. Grief affects us all differently.  My family’s case was a bit stereotypical. My father was liked and  respected as a marine but at home, he was a bad parent. He was an  emotionally abusive man who regularly put my mother through hell to feel  better. My anger came from the loss of my sisters.

I was his only son but not the one he wanted  to get so it was just as bad in many ways. Being even a high function  autistic meant that all the things he wanted to do with me, I did not  want or was able to do. Sports, social clubs and such were not for me  not one bit.

Six years later after me my first sister  Julie came along and then two years later Jena. They were much more into  the things he liked. He was much better with them but was still abusive  to me and my mother. I enter the living room. My mother is sitting in  her chair. She is forty-four years old but looks ten years older her  grief and years of emotional abuse had aged her. Her black hair was  streaked with grey and her blue eyes were dull.

“What’s up mum?”

“I was looking around for a job for you and might have a few options.”

So, it begins the conversation that always led to the argument.

“Mum we have done this before you know I need to get enough money together to make sure we are fine for a time.”

“I know but it’s so dangerous what you are doing.”

“I know but the pay is good and we are almost to the point I can stop.” I knew that was a lie.

Her face indicated that this was just the  start of the argument, I think. Reading people's emotional states has  always been an issue for me. But have the same argument in the same  order of development even I learned things over time.

What my mother did not understand was that  when it was discovered that I could function in a Zone the nation was in  a panic. I was wandering through a local graveyard when a Zone Breach  formed there. It was in the early months after the collider accident.  The national government was trying to deal with a new threat that they  had never encountered before and the world was having power grid issues  on top of everything.

I saved two council workers that were working  on the tress from an attack by two skeletons. They were badly affected  by the experience and exposure to the zone but ultimately recovered.

The Government was seriously looking at  drafting all those who would become Zone Operatives and throwing us at  the problem. We early operatives realised what was happening and dug our  heels in and said Hell No! This led to several ugly months of  detentions and threats against us. Hints of reprisals against friends  and family were made as part of an intimidation game. For those who  would think that this could not happen in a democracy my answer is to  get real. History has shown us that any government is at its most  dangerous when it thinks it is under attack and could fall.

Eventually, a compromise was reached when the  Zone Operatives department was formed as part of a joint Ministry of  Défense and Home Office response to the zones. I later learned that  there were a lot of threats and political trading to reach this  agreement. We Zone Operatives were to be listed as Governmental  contractors and organised into regional and national responders.  Officially we were free to quit when we wanted to but in reality, we  were stuck until we were not able to continue with the job. Each of our  contracts had personal terms that both sides had to follow. The system  was not good but for now, was working.

During this time my personal tormentor was now assigned as my overseer from the Government. Hence the dislike.

My mother did not understand this by choice  or not understanding the situation. I was in this until we closed all  the breaches, broken or killed. Yea life sucks at the moment the only  plus side was the pay and we had plenty of time between operations to  recover.

I feed her the lie that I could stop to try to placate her.

“I know this but you should leave now before something bad happens.” She continued.

“Ma you know I can’t right now so let’s leave it be.”

“No! It’s too dangerous you should quit. I  know I will talk to that nice Mr. Harley-Grenville to have you at least  reassigned to a different role.” That was a new approach for her.

“No, they won’t Ma I am one of the few people you can tolerate a zone.”

“But surely you have done enough can’t they send someone else.” She was getting louder.

“Who?”

“I don’t know one of the new people they have discovered” She was getting more agitated.

“The number of zones is also increasing  faster than they are finding new operatives.” I was getting angry at  this time because we have been over this too many times. To me the  argument was mute to her she believes that I can be won over. I am  driven by the logic of the situation we are in. While she is focused on  her emotions. I cannot get her to see the issue. It’s like a lot of  people in their thirties and forties today. You ask why they are so  angry. They give you reasons but in the end, they really cannot say.

I do not add that the attrition rate amongst  Zone Operatives is bad with nearly as many deaths each year as being  found. That would not go over well as my mother always obsessed over the  reports of Zone Operatives dying.

“Right, I am off back upstairs with things to  do!” I turned and left beating a fast retreat from the room before my  mother could build up any more steam for the argument. As I went  upstairs, I knew that we would fight again sometime soon.

It was then that I got a call from National control. I answered. Commitments. Code phases were exchanged.

“Operative Harrington be advised you have  been activated for a Level 3 Alert. You will be collected tomorrow at 5  am. Briefing at the site. That is all.”