Chapters 49 & 50 in the serialisation of the book 'Insurrection' 4th book in the 'Corpalism' series

49
"Et tu, Brute?"
Wm Shakespeare: Julius Caesar (III, i, 77)

The Preacher sat and watched, semi-hypnotised, as the news of the attack on Parliament was repeated time and time again. Occasionally he paused and squinted at the TV. Some of the faces seemed familiar; had they been in his audience somewhere? Had he seen them on London Bridge?

The Newsreader spoke again, "Early speculation that this was the work of Middle Eastern terrorists has now been revised in light of recent evidence, and rumours are surfacing of a plot inspired by individuals much closer to home. This has not yet been confirmed by official sources."

The Preacher fetched a biscuit from his tin then sat down again, musing.

"Police are seeking news of these people, asking them to come forward and assist them with their investigations," said the newsreader. Pictures of four octogenarians appeared on the screen.

He was fairly certain now; he recognised at least two of the four. "The Eden Hall Village," he said quietly, "and from there they will find their way to my door."

He sipped his tea and ran over the conversation with Barry again, the one where he'd been encouraged to speak at that retirement home. He smiled ruefully; it had been good Angel cake.
 
50

Martyrdom does not end something, it is only a beginning.
Indira Gandhi


The Preacher sat in his room reading.

Barry burst in the door and grabbed the Preacher’s coat, "Quick," he ordered, "Get this on and get out of here."

"Why?" asked the Preacher, nonchalance personified.

"For Christ' sake..haven't you been watching the news?"

"Of course," said the Preacher.

"Then you know they've linked you to the terrorists," said Barry, "and you've got to get out of here."

"Why?" asked the Preacher.

"Because they're coming for you." Barry hurried to the window, put his back against the wall then lifted the curtain slightly to peer out onto the quiet street.

"Who precisely is coming for me?" asked the Preacher, unmoved by this activity.

"The Police, for sure," said Barry, "and probably MI5 or MI6 or something."

The Preacher nodded, "Sounds likely."

"Then get your bloody coat on and let's get the fuck out of here," snapped Barry.

"But why?" said the Preacher, "I have nothing to hide. They can ask me questions but I have no involvement with those people whatsoever."

"Apart from the fact that you went to their home and spoke to them," said Barry.

"I did indeed," said the Preacher, "but what I remember most is that it was your idea, Barry. So surely the Police and MI6 would be far more interested in talking to you, don't you think?"

"Hey," said Barry, "that was at the request of our sponsors, remember. I had no choice in the matter."

"You always have a choice, Barry, otherwise all that I've been saying has no meaning."

"Right, well I'm exercising that choice right now so hurry up, we're not safe here."

"No, you go, Barry," said the Preacher, "I prefer to take my chances with the law than go on the run, it looks like the act of a guilty man, after all."

"Please," said Barry, "you must leave. They might, I don’t know, but things happen, don't they."

"What sort of things, Barry?" asked the Preacher.

Barry stared at him, "Look, these people don't ask questions and, as far as I can see, they like things tidied up. As in, no loose ends, no court case. Now, do you understand?"

"Completely," said the Preacher. He seemed tired and dispirited; even disappointed. "Just do what they've ordered you to do, Barry, but I would appreciate it if you made it quick."

"Me?" questioned Barry, "No, what? You've got it all wrong."

"I have no idea who you are, and even less idea where you came from but I know you have the right kind of contacts to get a beat up tramp like myself on prime time TV. I also know that it was really important to you that I visit the Eden Hall Retirement Village and address a bunch of old age pensioners."

Barry stared at him, his face pale.

"And wouldn't you know it, they just happened to be the very same pensioners who took it upon themselves to storm Parliament and killed those politicians, which strangely, is more or less what I’ve been saying needed to be done."

He laid his book down and looked Barry in the eyes, "I have to say I was quite taken with their name...what was it? Pensioners Against Corruption and Tyranny, has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Please," said Barry, "just go. Don't make me choose."

The Preacher smiled, "It's alright Barry, death comes to all of us sooner or later, and it's not when, but how we face it that matters most."

Cheers for reading

Arun









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