Read Blighted Land: Book two of the Northumbrian Western Series (Northumbrian Westerns 2) for Free Online

HMS Gehenna that was detailed in the documents hidden in my wardrobe, the ancient submarine, last of the Extinction Class. It had surfaced here. A klaxon sounded and the sub’s deck opened, slid apart with a metallic whirr. A ramp extended. Several seconds later a tank emerged, same as the one the other night, followed by others. A column of these deadly vehicles. Their turrets swivelled round and took aim as they lined up on the deck. Then the weapons fired, shaking the building, knocking me from side to side, Sophie repeating my name, over and over.
    ‘Trent?’ she said.
    I was on the settee with Sophie in front of me. Behind her gulls flew by the window. There were voices outside, laughter and the burble of conversation. No screams or shouts. No submarine or tanks.
    ‘Were you asleep?’ she said.
    ‘Resting my eyes.’ I sat up, stretching.  
    ‘Are you all right?’
    ‘Fine. I should go. I have work to do on the bike.’
    ‘You and that bike.’
    I stood up. ‘It’s not running right, something with the carbs.’
    ‘Bikes and work. That’s all you care about.’
    ‘It just needs to be sorted out.’
    She stood and faced me, slid her hands around me. Then down the front of my trousers. ‘I can see something else that needs sorting out.’ Keeping one hand there she kissed me, pulling me close with her other arm. We stayed like that for a while, as voices came from the quayside down the road.  
    Then she led me off to the bedroom. We made love in her room filled with teddy bears and dolls. Soft toys and kids’ books racked on shelves. As she closed her eyes and lay back she whispered my name. She said how much she loved me. But it wasn’t her I was in bed with, it was the woman I’d seen at the races.

CHAPTER FIVE
New Racer

    A FTER LEAVING S OPHIE ’ S I went straight home, sitting by the window in the living room, staring out at the houses and park opposite. The mist had cleared and sunlight lit the overgrown bushes and busted brickwork. Something moved in the undergrowth, a feral cat or a couple of rats maybe. Sophie ’ d wanted me to stay but I couldn ’ t face her, talk about houses and plans for the future. I’d said I had stuff to do and left.  
    And here I was by the window, just sitting.  
    I got up. There was a race later. They had races most evenings but I didn’t usually go two days in a row. For some reason it seemed like a good idea: a good way to build up some more cash. Get away from town. That’s what it was. No more than that.
    I found myself down by the bike. For some time I stood there, staring at it. Then I rolled it out, started up and rode across town. Without aim I set off. It was as if the Scrambler took me on its own, without me controlling it. Instead of going to the race track it took me on the South Road, past the derelict retail park, onwards to the town farms. They surrounded Faeston on each side, field upon field of pigs and chickens. Animals fed by the leftovers collected in town and brought up here. It was run by The Committee, supported by Round Up, of course. I rode past the fields of stinking animals onwards to the barricade and patrol point. Two men stood at the edge of the road each with a gun. The barricade was made of barbed wire and stakes, running off in each direction around the town. A large section was roughly patched, the result of the tank coming through. I slowed and waved to the men, Tyler and Jack from Round Up. They waved back and let me through.  
    As soon as I left the town’s jurisdiction the landscape changed. Tended fields were replaced by rough moorland. On the edges there were marks of tracks, where the tank had veered off. I carried on for a mile stopping at the side of the road, on higher ground. Ahead of me were the parched moors that ran north to Scotland and south towards the other counties of England. To the west was more moorland, lit orange by the setting sun.  
    The road was empty. No sounds part from distant ones from