Lockdown

The next morning.

Trawsfynydd, Wales.

The sun rose, and it was surprisingly quiet outside. Mike woke first, as he was freezing and badly needed the toilet. He was shy, and the ground was generally quite flat in all directions around them, so he wound up going an unreasonable distance away. By the time he found his way back, Gemma was up too.

“I thought you’d ditched me, you bastard.”

“Had to wee.”

Gemma cracked up. “I used to go to Glasto every year. You don’t need to run off and hide every time you need a wee. I’ve literally seen it all.”

“Right, okay then,” Mike said. “I’m sort of surprised nobody’s come to find us.”

“They might’ve done if we were meant to have worked last night,” she said. “But since we’re just missing presumed dead on our own time, that’s completely fine.”

The facility looked attainably close in the light of day, its cooling towers looming large where only a couple of tiny lights had been overnight. It still took them over an hour to reach it, which would’ve probably been a bit less had Gemma not stopped to also wee. “Come on,” he’d pleaded, before quickly moving to a safe distance and turning his back.

As they approached it became clear something was amiss. Temporary barriers were being dragged out, and in the meantime, a couple of trucks blocked the entrance into the facility proper, with a couple of blue badges stood guard.

“Heya,” Gemma said, waving. “We uh, work here.” She threw air quotes around ‘work’.

“The facility is in lockdown I’m afraid,” said the blue badge on the left. Gemma and Mike looked at each other, confusion on their faces.

“We live here,” added Mike. “We were out in the village last night and the shuttle never turned up. We ended up just⁠—”

“—I’m sorry to hear that,” said the same blue badge. The one on the right kept their stoic vigil.

“We’re prisoners, man.” Gemma sounded supremely irritated. “I’m not sure what exactly to do next. We can’t turn round and go home.”

“Why is it in lockdown, anyway?” Mike asked. “Is it because of what happened in London?”

They both stared, unflinching. After a moment Gemma rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air. “Fucking great! Once again, for my sins, I am somehow denied entry to a place I’m also not allowed to leave.” She leaned over to Mike and whispered. “This happens to me sometimes. Like two times, but still, you’d expect no times, right?”

Mike looked between the two blue badges as Gemma wandered aimlessly away, her guitar sticking up off her back. He squinted and leaned his head out, staring at the one on the right.

“You’re Bertie’s friend, yeah?”

Silence. Mike took a half-step closer. “Yeah, I’ve seen you and Bertie talking sometimes between shifts. In the hallway. Surely you’ve seen us, too. You know we live here.”

“Course we fuckin’ live here!” Gemma shouted up into the sky. “Where else would we be from? There’s a fence around this place the length of the goddamn Thames! And who would⁠—”

“Fine, fine.” The blue badge on the right broke his silence. “Just go in, go quickly.” He nodded them in a few times, then looked at his companion. They both just went back to looking straight ahead.

The vibe inside wasn’t much better. The few people they saw shuffled around quietly, and all the doors to the bunks were closed. The bar in their block was shut and locked, which Gemma had never seen before. And nobody seemed to be working. As they turned the corner to Hall R, another goddamn blue badge was in their path. Not some security guard, but a fairly mundane looking man in an orange chunky-knit jumper and sensible slacks, his badge on a colourful lanyard round his neck.

“What room?” He was trying to make himself sound tougher than he was. Gemma felt a pang of guilt and decided she had no quarrel with this man.

“Room 62.”

He nodded and escorted them accordingly. As Gemma put her hand on the knob, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. “You’re really not supposed to be out. Where were you just now?”

She immediately and instinctively smacked his hand away. “None of your fucking business. What are you, the fucking bouncer, mate? This isn’t the Electric.”

Mike froze, his eyes wide, as the blue badge stood between him and Gemma. He braced himself for an unspeakably bad time. Instead, the man’s shoulders slumped. He shook his head, turned and brushed past Mike as he headed back down the corridor. As he went past, Mike noticed the lanyard was definitely Garfield & Friends — little cartoon Garfields and Odies all over it. Gemma shook her head and rolled her eyes, then turned the knob and shoved the door open.

Bump. “Augh!” The distinctive cry of Cian as the door slammed into their back. They slid out of the way and let everyone in. “Christ almighty, look who it is.” Bertie and Cian both shuffled toward the back of the room to make space. With the four of them in, it was supremely crowded.

“How did you get back in,” asked Bertie. “We assumed you were just stuck in the village or something. They’ve got the whole facility on lockdown.”

“Your mate, actually,” Mike said. “Your secret blue badge mate.”

Bertie’s eyes darted around, but he said nothing. Gemma had been jostling around in what tiny space she had, trying to get her guitar off her back. Now that it was sorted, she went straight up to her top bunk.

“Aye, yer man’s been of tremendous use today then,” Cian said. “We got the craic from him round 6 a.m.”

“There’s some sort of protocol they’ve enacted,” Bertie admitted. “Something to do with some sort of terrorist attack. It’s not just our facility that’s locked down.”

“Every connie in Britain. No phones, no Rings, no walkin’ around,” Cian said. “No work either, so, not raging about that.”

Gemma’s head thudded loudly into the ceiling above the bed. “Damnit! Fucking shite!” She let out a long, anguished groan. “No, I can’t. I can’t. Nope.” She wriggled back and climbed out of the bunk.

“Apparently they think the attack was planned by connies,” Bertie continued, “possibly even carried out by them. But they don’t know who yet, or where, or how many were involved. So, we’ve all lost our privileges until they can sort it out.”

“Comforting that they’ve had the ability to just cut off our phones and our freedom at the push of a button all this time,” Cian said. “Can’t feckin’ take us anywhere, yeah? Little miscreants we are.”

Gemma stared up at the ceiling. One of the light tubes was flickering. It hadn’t always done that. Just one more thing.

“Did they say how long we were going to be stuck in here,” Mike asked. But Gemma was already putting her guitar case back on her shoulders.

“I’m not stuck. I’m not their fucking property.” She sidled past everyone and put her hand on the doorknob. “I’m going back out.” Mike quickly put himself in between her and the door.

“You can’t,” he shouted in a panic.

“Mike, you don’t know me well enough to know not to do this. But I’m asking you. Get out of my way.”

He looked her in the eyes. She was not joking. He nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

“Great,” she immediately replied. “We’ll both get gunned down.” She pulled the door open and strode out into the hallway, Mike sheepishly in tow.