Dark Sings A Distant Herald - A Christmas Story On Holding Back the British Twilight

Chapter Two

Tragedy Sparks a Journey

“All here know the background of why we come together tonight, so I will not dwell on the sadder details of our current lot, but only give you a flavor of the time before the zone had full control. Your parents, older siblings, teachers, village leaders, and friends will continue to enlighten you with details over the coming years of your young lives.”

As he spoke, the old man settled even further into the large chair, seeming to snuggle into the great hearth and, with his kind eyes nearly half closed, moved into the night’s story with almost no transition.

“No. We’re here this evening to expand and, if we might, elaborate on a tale that is part of your heritage.”

The storyteller’s right hand waved an arc across the air in front of him as he spoke.

“Heritage. A strong word. A word we will use sparingly tonight for fear of lessening its importance.”

After the old man fell silent, the children and the few adults were wondering if the elder visitor had fallen asleep when, almost without realizing it, they were slowly transported by his voice and spirit to that time years before when a few students, disillusioned and somewhat confused about who they really were in a changing landscape, had defied the growing power of a new leadership and complacent electorate, had taken a risk, and had traveled across the middle of England looking for answers in a simple holiday celebration.

The old man’s voice faded into the background as the room’s occupants moved from the present day and joined that small group so many years before, during that in-between time when the zone’s strength had been new and growing at a rapid rate, while resistance had been rare.

In the days before the zone (or, as many called it, the “coz,” pronounced similarly as the slang version of “because,” short for “cursed opportunity zone”), people had been free to wander about any part of the country without a care. As the zone had developed, more and more rules had been imposed on a range of activities, gradually molding how the zone residents were to conduct themselves across life’s broad landscape. One eventual outcome of those new rules had been the consolidation of the schools. Instead of the many small schools scattered across the various counties and shires, the new authorities had slowly assembled larger, more centrally controlled schools.

The schools had been only a part of the various mechanisms, from political and economic to philosophical and social, that the newly elected leaders had used to change how the zone managed its population. The changes had been quite slow and often subtle, so that, by the time the country had realized what had been happening there had been no turning back. Even when large groups of the established population had tried to shake off the yoke of their duly elected masters through petitions, a confused government had invariably ended up at an impasse. The eventual compromise, of course, as we all know, had been the establishment of special zones.

Initially, parts of the Midlands, East of England, and even small parts at the top of South East England had had several zones, which, over time, eventually had formed into one larger zone, with the shape of badly beaten lump of coal slanting from near Leicester to just beyond the north and east of Cambridge, touching the North Sea coast at the Wash and fading into a hazy border north of Bedford to the south.

The borders of the zone were not officially, definitively fixed, but the local zone authorities and the appointed government members met every four years on leap year day to agree to which authority would oversee which areas and which enforcement agency would maintain the integrity of which border areas. No one really knew why leap year day had been chosen for the meetings, but most assumed it had been because the politicians didn’t want to be reminded every year of their folly.

The main motorway, rail, river, and air traffic across the zone were still controlled and policed by the Crown, but with all manner of caveats and agreements with the local elected officials. Inside the cities, towns, and villages of the zone, the zone officials maintained peace and order and governed as all duly elected officials govern, by the apparent will of the majority voters.

The fringes of the zone were patrolled by both the zone and outside authorities, with the often unwanted help of local village authorities. Even though lacking official standing, villages outside of but bordering the zone often maintained their own, local extra-legal forces to halt zone intrusions into their towns.

Into this changing environment, children were born, were already present from pre-zone days, may have moved into the zone with parents who had relocated or, for a few liaison officials, been assigned with their parents. As with any patch of geography anywhere, children represented the future and, as with most geographies, those who held a firm grip on the land invariably desired that the children who would eventually take over the land should hold much the same values, ethics, ideas, and wants as those who came before. The zone was no different.

Once the zone authorities had become comfortable in their powerbase and legal grounding with a reluctant, but complacent government, they had instituted regulations, local laws, and other social infrastructure norms across most of their area of control. This maze of regulations and laws had chipped away, slowly at first and then with speed, at a broad range of British traditions and values, if not the very foundations of British law. Once the population’s will had either bent to the new rules or, in many cases, had taken those old traditions behind closed doors and in secret meetings where the zone authorities could better manage such corralled resistance, the authorities had felt confident enough to look to molding the future generations in their image. Only then had they turned their rather focused attention to the schools.

The changes in the schools had followed the flows of the zone’s influence into a village or town and the exits of many of the established families who had opted to move south or north. Once the majority of the schools had been consolidated and the few for fee schools had been quietly hounded out of the zone due to severely declining enrollment and teacher flight, the zone authorities then became quite protective of their budding future leaders.

Consequently, a system had been quietly put in place behind the scenes to develop promising young men and a few token girls into the leaders of tomorrow. Unofficial and well hidden from the population, the program had only just begun to show signs of bearing fruit when the students of the old man’s tale suddenly burst onto the scene, quite by accident.

A tragic accident.

In the old mill’s cavernous meeting room, the smallest of the children seemed to lean closer to their neighbors as the old man’s voice took on a mournful tone. All in the room knew of the accident for it was an unofficial day of remembrance for villages across the zone. After the accident and the subsequent outcry, the centralizing of the schools had been partially dismantled and local schools had been allowed to operate, although not allowed to flourish or to be supplied with the same deep-pocket resources as the centralized, zone sponsored schools.

The old man paused, recognizing the rising concern in the eyes of the smaller children. He then avoided the more gruesome details and rumors of the accident, but only reminded the audience of the tragic day’s impact on the main characters of his tale.

The All Saints School fire had been many years before, but the effects still rippled across the zone. Seventy-three young boys had perished in the accident, causing nearly unbearable grief and mourning through all walks of life in the zone and even beyond.

As one might imagine, the outcry from the families could not be silenced by even the most ruthless of the zone leadership. Consequently, the zone authorities had made a number of apparent concessions in schooling and education to satisfy the grieving parents and to give themselves, the zone leadership, time to allow the heated sentiment to die down in order to slowly reprise the centralizing control at a later date. This strategy would probably have worked flawlessly if the fire’s personal impact had not driven a small group of students to openly defy the zone leadership by setting off on a weeklong trek in search of something that the people in the region had almost lost.

What the zone leadership had not anticipated was the impact a singular sacrifice would have on the people, and, ultimately, on the zone itself.

Little Nicky Andrews.

Several sniffles were heard around the room at the mention of the child’s name.

Little Nicky Andrews was only in his eleventh year, but he was already a known computer whiz and chess master at the time of the tragedy. He was the darling of the lower school and had become something of a pirate radio legend for the younger set. While the zone authorities tolerated some level of innovative dissent, for it allowed them to spot and monitor those who might pose bigger threats in the future, they were not as understanding if someone crossed their ill-defined line of tolerance. Even at such a young age, Little Nicky Andrews was a master at balancing the zone’s rules with his clever innovative flair, giving him a reputation for youthful invincibility among his peers.

When the fire broke out well beyond lights out, starting in a lower floor and spreading quickly through the aged...