Lockey vs. the Apocalypse by Meadows, Carl (7 ebook reader TXT) 📗

of the day when they realised how bad the world was getting. Graham Smith, head of science, stood his ground and was the last teacher on site because he refused to leave the last dozen kids alone with no adult presence for guidance.

Heroism doesn’t always require body armour, guns, and the willingness to run headlong at danger. Sometimes being a hero is just ordinary people doing the right thing, no matter their own fear.

“Dust it?” asked Nate.

Graham nodded. “Is it a dark keypad, or light?” Dark, says Nate. “In which case, we can take some corn starch from the home economics room, and we’ll need a very light and soft brush, maybe the kind ladies use to apply rouge.”

Rouge. Love this guy. So old school.

“I’ve got one,” offered JJ.

“Well, excellent. Have you touched the number pad at all?” he asked Nate.

“No. Once I pressed the standby to light the screen up and saw it asked for a code, I just swore a bit and put it back in the dock.”

Graham laughed nervously. “In which case, we can dust it with the corn starch and rouge brush, and it will cling to the residual skin oils on the keypad, as long as they didn’t wipe it by rote. It won’t tell us the code, but it will likely show the numbers used most often. That has to be a better starting point than nothing, eh?”

Every single one of us stared at the science teacher for a moment, then laughed.

“Graham, that is bloody genius,” I said. “Yay for science.”

The man pushed his glasses up his nose, despite them not needing correcting, and laughed nervously yet again. I think for a moment he thought we were all scoffing at his idea, and his relief at having made a genuine contribution was huge. After that, he hardly had a smile off his lips. Being a valuable member of the team will do that for you. I think he might have been feeling like something of a spare part surrounded by people with weapons training and active combat experience, but never forget about those clever geeks. They’ll think of shit you just won’t.

We got on with that straight away and let Graham do his thing, as a few of us leaned in the Humvee while he worked. After he carefully brushed the corn starch off until only the thinnest of amounts were remaining, there in all their glory, were five numbers that had clearly been used more than the others. And by more, I mean the only ones that had been used.

0, 1, 2, 3, and 6.

As soon as I looked at it, I could hardly believe my eyes.

“Nate, how many digits are in the code?” I asked.

“It asks for six, why?”

I laughed aloud, shaking my head in disbelief as I slid into the Humvee and punched in six digits.

And the radio came alive.

“How the hell could you figure that out first go?” exclaimed Nate, looking at me like I was some kind of prodigy. Graham, Dean, and the few others who had come to watch all gave me the same look.

“Children of the Resurrection,” I shrugged. “They’re all about this Dark Resurrection, so what’s most important to such a bunch of nutters?”

Dean was the first to catch on, chuckling as he shook his head.

“The day of their resurrection.”

I grinned back at him. “They’re zealous nutters, not hardcore paramilitary, so they’ve used the bloody date of the world shitting the bed as their code because of its significance to them. 2-3-0-6-1-0. 23rd day, of the sixth month, 2010. Stone cold bell ends.”

“Arrogance,” corrected Nate. “They probably didn’t consider they’d actually get cracked by anyone, or at least anyone who was a threat, but the dogma they spouted at Dean that they’re all so proud of also seems to be their weakness.” He gave a satisfied smile in my direction and winked. “Now we can listen to their comms, so that’ll be the first job before planning anything else. Learn as much as we can and maybe, just maybe, get a bead on where this place they call Ascension is. Maybe get eyes on it.”

Dean nodded. “And see if there’s any truth to Tucker’s claim about their numbers.”

“Aye.”

Erin Turing, that’s me; code cracker extraordinaire.

No communications were coming through, which suggests that here at the school, we might be out of range. In a way, that makes me happy, as it suggests they’re a decent distance from us. However, it means we might have to drive around some to set markers. Nate is convinced they wouldn’t go too far beyond radio range, but we don’t know what range they have. They could be using repeaters somewhere to bounce the signal and extend their range. This will take some time, and will involve a chunky amount of diesel, as Humvees with their beastly six-litre engines aren’t exactly economy vehicles. These beasts drink more than university students in happy hour who’ve just had their student grant drop into their account.

Also, which miserable fucker decided to limit happy to an hour? That’s just such a “glass half empty” mentality.

Because of the fuel consumption, we’ll need to top up some jerry cans to keep with us. We could drag all the radio equipment out of it and remount it, but honestly, if we do accidentally bump into more of these crazies, we’d rather do so in an armoured vehicle.

I think the next few days are going to be super boring, Freya. Lots of driving about on back roads to range out and see if we can pick up any comms. They could literally be anywhere in the county, and we’re pretty much smack bang in the centre, so it’s basically shut our eyes and point on the map. Trial and error of panning through dirt until we find gold.

It might involve staying overnight in a cleared building or three as well, as we don’t really want to burn fuel coming back each time. This could take a while, but until we