THE FARM!

Chapter 21

Hamish was a man instinctively protective of his family and always relied upon by its members to solve problems and expected to have all the answers. He was comfortable with this arrangement as he considered it the traditional role of the husband/father figure, and was he felt, the correct hierarchy among the lower middle classes in which he had been brought up and to which he considered he still belonged.
However Emily, at seventeen, was displaying gifts of intelligence and understanding well beyond her years and had surreptitiously assailed his accepted position as head of the household. Whilst he had pretended not to notice this change in the established order, he had at the same time slowly begun to rely on her good judgment and common sense far more than he would ever have admitted even to himself. It was only now, after Emily and Pip had mysteriously disappeared during the night, that he began to realize just how much he had come to depend on her.
Despite his attempts at cool-headed resolution, in his heart he suddenly felt totally bereft without her. His anguish at her disappearance at this time of crisis and his total lack of ability to comfort his wife and youngest daughter hit him like an icy chill deep in the pit of his stomach. This feeling of utter helplessness was not something he had experienced since childhood and it shattered his self-belief making him feel powerless to help either himself or his family.
As first he was determined to put up a fight in order to protect those he loved, but on witnessing the ruthless and summary execution of those that rebelled, quickly persuaded himself of the need to stay alive. After all, he reasoned, if he were dead they would be alone in their ordeal, whatever that might entail. There was nothing he could do in the face of such brute force, other than await an opportunity. An opportunity that was not likely to be easily forthcoming, if it ever came at all. His wife had been reduced to frozen, speechless fear and Susan had started to cry, saying she wanted to go home.  Hamish knew that he had no resources left with which to comfort them and felt that he had somehow let them all down when they needed him most.
He thought back to the long anguished night when they could talk freely, if not privately, in the darkness, and Susan's constant fears that had to be countered in some way.
"Dad, what are they going to do to us; why are they treating us like animals? I'm frightened Dad, why don't you stop them? Tell them we're from England and that we want to go home. Why don't you call the police on your phone or something?"
"I've already done that back at the 'otel," a surly voice piped up from somewhere out of the darkness, "but they didn't seem to take no notice. Said they'd already sent some 'spector to look into things and that they couldn't find nothing wrong. Said they'd contact the authorities out here to see if they knew anything."
"Well, there you are then, at least there'll be somebody looking into all of this." Hamish replied with an optimism he didn't feel.
"Yeah! Several of us called the UK authorities but it weren't no use. Nothing was really clear 'til they bundled us up here, by which time our phones was taken," the surly voice continued.
And then various other voices shouted across the near solid blackness of the night.
"Well I ain't gonna stand for it..."
"Me neither..."
"We'll fight the bastards in the morning..."
"How many of us ag'inst a few o' them sods?.."
"Yeah right!.."
"We'll 'ave them sods come the morning, you just see if we don't... We'll kick their fucking arses..."
Then followed various female voices.
"Yeah Darren, you sort 'em out..."
"I wanna go home..."
"Why do you let 'em treat us like this for..."
"Ben, you should all go complain or som'at..."
As night deepened, the voices quietened down as sleep overwhelmed them and the stress of the day faded into troubled oblivion.
The threatened dawn battle was clamourous and brutal as the bravest of the group made a concerted and aggressive move against the black-garbed guards that streamed into the cavern. But their efforts were futile; the question soon being settled with a number of the intrepid group lying wounded and dying; shot at point-blank range, their blood besmirching the ground. Any further reluctance was put paid to with the liberal and brutal use of gun butts; the rebels soon fell into line, accepting that further resistance was pointless in the light of such overwhelming force.
The remaining families were herded like animals through the network of tunnels bored into the solid rock. Amid the wails of children and the whimpering moans of the loiterers, the group were prodded and battered and forced to continue their relentless march to they knew not where.
Finally they came to a dead-end. A vast riveted, rusted, plate-iron wall blocked their way as they were left standing in anticipation of their fate. Time seemed to stand still as heavy breathing filled the air and pallid sweat-bathed faces peered out from the gloom. Then two double doors screeched open revealing a small chamber with a waist high ledge cut into the rock running all the way around the interior wall.
As the guards reacted with an urgent activity, goading and pushing them into the confined space, the 'hotel guests' quickly became tightly packed, morphing into a single seething mass of humanity as the jostling began for both space and air as all individuality and dignity melted away.
And then they heard the metallic, jarring, disembodied rasp of a voice echoing out around the chamber and repeating over and over again... 'During the cleansing process all clothing and personal items must be removed and left on the ledge provided...'