Sincerely, Jennifer x

Operation Shepherd Briefing Document

To whom it may concern, 

Attached are two essential pieces of evidence that will assist you in locating, apprehending and disposing of Captain James Ovid Plately. 

It is of the utmost importance that this is done as discreetly as you can manage, as to not further alarm the public during this troubling time. 

The target was last seen on board the HMS Vengeance, but unfortunately we have lost contact with the vessel and we are unable to locate it at this time. 

The public must not be aware of the involvement of Captain James Ovid Plately, or the crew of the HMS Vengeance in the “incident” and we are in the process of disposing of files or documents that may alert them to what has occurred. 

It is vital that the public does not become aware of [REDACTED] or the Order of [REDACTED], and especially important that they do not become aware of the Prime Minister’s death, and how this connects to [REDACTED] as this would create widespread unrest and potential uprisings among civilians, which would be a disaster as we proceed to the next stages of recovery. 

As soon as your mission is complete, you must immediately destroy the briefing document and all attachments, or you will face disciplinary action. 

God speed, and God save the King. 

-x-

Operation Shepherd – Evidence File 1312.

Unsent letters between Captain James Ovid Plately and Angela Plately Dated between March 10th and March 16th 2023.

-x-

March 10th 2023

Hello Mum,

I never send these letters but maybe this time, I will. Probably have to type it up when I finish my shift and get it on the next email upload, but I’m not sure if there’s any point. We talk when I come home every now and again, but we never really talk. I can’t, of course. National security and all that, but then again, there’s rarely anything of interest happening down here. 

I’m guarding the end of the world, and most days, it’s far less exciting than people imagine. I just wait, and wait, and wait, until the prime minister calls. 

He’s never called, so I’ve never launched. The button remains unpushed, and the world goes on turning. 

That’s how it’s been for fifteen years. Prime Ministers come and go, but our relationship never changes. I’m the guard dog, hoping that they’ll never ask me to bare my teeth. In between shifts, I sleep, eat, read and overthink. I don’t want to, but sitting in this kind of power gives you a lot to think about, especially when you’ve been here as long as I have. 

I get a few weeks off every couple of months, but I’m starting to think that it isn’t enough. 

Mum, I think I need to get out of here. 

I think I need to come home. 

It doesn’t normally get to me. We’re not exactly having a great time down in the subs, but we’ve got food, and stuff to do when we aren’t working, comfortable beds. It isn’t too bad. It’s never got to me like this before. I can’t explain it. 

It isn’t thinking about what I’m here to do. I made my peace with that a long time ago. It’s… well, it’s his voice. 

Not the Prime Minister. Haven’t heard from him, which is good, I suppose. No. It’s someone else. I don’t know. It’s not very often, but in the last few weeks, every now and again, I hear him. 

“Push the button James.” I thought it was one of the others on shift, messing around, but I’ve even heard it when I’m alone. In bed, in the shower, in so many places, and every time, it’s like a shiver goes right through me, like a shockwave, the same way it will one day when I push that button. 

“Push the button James.” I know what will happen if I do, so I mustn’t, but… he asks Mum. He asks me all the time. He never shows his face. He never rests his hand upon mine as it hovers over oblivion, but he asks, politely and often, with no rhyme or reason, and I sit in silence, wondering why he comes to me.

I don’t want to push the button Mum. Nothing about this has ever been good, but it’s a job, isn’t it? It’s my job, and I’ve made my peace with it. It isn’t what I want to do, but I will when the Prime Minister asks. 

Who else is asking though? Who is he, Mum? 

I should drink more water. Get more sleep. That will sort me out. I’ve been at this for long enough now that I’ll be alright. 

I feel like a sheep, just pottering about in a field, waiting for death. I know that I’ll be miles away, but death is what happens, right? 

I can’t think about that now. 

Just don’t push the button until we get struck by something. That’s all. Wait for the PM. Wait for the cruel crack of the Shepherd’s crook. Wait for the command and then push. Nobody else is in control of this. 

I AM IN CONTROL OF THIS. 

I’ll drink some more water. Make sure I’m getting enough protein in my diet. Think of the consequences, vividly and as often as possible. 

There can be no mistakes. 

There can be no mucking around. 

I’m a man, Mother. I’m a real, grown man, with medals and ranks and control over my body. 

I will not push the button. 

I must not push the button. 

… But he asks, Mum. He asks, politely, and often. 

James x

-x-

March 12th 2023

Hello Mum,

I’m sorry if I seemed a bit out of sorts in that last letter. I’m fine, honestly. You don’t need to worry. 

I’m not worried. It’s all alright.

I just got a bit overexcited, that’s all. Came over a bit peculiar, but I’m fine. 

I’ve been drinking more water. 

I’ve tried to sleep. 

I’ve been feeling a bit sick, but I’m alright. 

I didn’t send the last letter, and maybe I won’t send this one, but I really wish you were here. 

Fancy that. A forty eight year old man, wishing for his Mum, like a little baby. 

I’ve never been a pansy Mum, you know that, but there’s something different right now. It’s like I’m a little boy again. I can’t sleep for more than an hour or so at a time, and I’m jumping at shadows as I head for my shift. 

Everyone says I’m just tired, and that I’ll be fine, but something doesn’t feel right. 

I’m trying to be fine. I’m really trying. 

I just tried now, did you see? 

He’s here Mum. Nobody can see him. I can’t see him, but I know. I can feel the heat of his hand over mine, scorching as he scolds me for its distance from the button. 

“Push the button, James.” 

It starts as a whisper, whipping around the room every now and again, and I try to forget, but it follows me, falling down on top of me, until it is everywhere, like the ocean that swallows up our little submarine, and I feel so small. 

Sometimes, it feels like everyone else disappears, and it’s just me and him. I can’t see him, but I can feel him. Everything feels so hot, like a blinding heat, and I can’t quite catch my breath. He starts whispering, and it just doesn’t stop, until he’s shouting. 

“Push the button, James.”

“Push the button, James.”

“Push the button, James.”

I wish I knew why he was here, or what he wanted with me. 

Who would really choose to push that button? 

I know that one day, it could be my duty, but it’s never something I’d want to do. 

All that destruction… the pain… the death. It would be the end of the world as we knew it, and it cannot be something that someone would actually want, but… he does. 

Mum, he wants it so badly. 

He says that it will be such a special thing. A beautiful thing. 

Will it be beautiful Mum? 

Will it be beautiful when we burn? 

James x

-x-

March 13th 2023

Mum, it hurts. 

I’m still working, because everyone says I’m fine, but I know that I’m not. 

I’ve been sick four times since I woke up, like a pregnant bird or something. I can’t keep anything down, and I can barely keep my eyes open. 

I’m exhausted, but everyone says I’m fine, so I suppose I’m fine. 

He’s here again, and he’s asking AGAIN.

He says that I’m sick. He can see it, but nobody else can. How does that make sense? 

He says that if I push the button, I’ll feel better, but I know that I can’t. 

I shouldn’t. 

I think I want to, because I’ve got a pounding headache, and come to think of it, I ache all over, but it would be the biggest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I just can’t. 

He’s not so polite now. Says I’m a coward, and a failure. 

My skin feels like it’s splintering, breaking out in blisters as I stare down at the button and wait for the Prime Minister’s call. 

He never calls, of course, because calling me is a last resort, but I wish he would, so that the other voice would leave me alone. 

Just let me push the God damn button, eh? Let me be free of all this. 

He’s everywhere I look. Not him, exactly. I can’t see him, but everything feels darker since this all began. Dark and shadowy. I can feel eyes on me, everywhere, no matter where I go. 

Everyone else is acting normal, but there’s something off with all of them. I don’t know what it is, I just feel uncomfortable, like something isn’t right. 

I wish you were here. I feel like I’m on my own against the whole world. 

James x 

-x-

March 14th 2023

I’m not a coward Mum, but I’ve got to do what’s right. 

That’s the only thing getting me through this. 

He says I’m a coward, but he’s wrong. I’m living in Hell, but I’m doing it for everyone back home, so that they can be safe. 

There are kids that need to grow up, and families who are depending on me. I never asked for this, but I will be the thing that stands between them and destruction. 

I won’t let him make me do this. 

I can’t do it Mum. I just can’t. 

I can’t push the button. 

The doctor looked a little concerned about the voice, when I told him, and even more concerned when I showed him that my hair was falling out and that I was bleeding out of… well, everywhere. He looked even more concerned as he patted me on the shoulder and told me that he couldn’t see any blood. 

He says that he can’t find any problems with my skin or anything either. According to him, I have a full head of luscious hair, even though I have clumps of it in my hands. 

It’s madness. 

It’s like I’m the only person on this sub with their bloody eyes open. 

He gave me a day of bed rest, I suppose because he thought I was cracking up, but that was cancelled within minutes, and I was ordered back to my post. 

I suppose it could be all in my head, but if it is, why am I in charge of nuclear warheads? 

Nothing makes sense anymore. I just spend my days staring at the button, staring it out, wishing it away. 

I don’t want to be here anymore Mum. I want to come home. 

He says I have to do it Mum. 

He says that I was born for it, but I don’t know what he means. 

I can’t make sense of anything, and I can’t stay here anymore. 

Am I going mad? 

James x 

-x-

March 16th 2023

He says that you want it too, Mum. 

Is this true? 

I dreamed of you last night. It felt so real that I thought I was awake. We were at the old maisonette, do you remember? On the Swallow estate, where we were housed after they knocked down the old place by the bridge. 

I always liked living there, just you and me. It wasn’t so bad, even though we didn’t have much. You used to say that I was the man of the house, and I always tried to be. I wanted to protect you, and keep you safe, but if you ask this of me, I don’t know how I can do that. 

I know that you don’t have anybody, and you’ll probably be at home when the siren goes off. 

You’ll have probably got up a bit early to feed the birds and watch the sun rise, like you always do, and it will all be over, before you’ve even noticed. 

You won’t understand. You won’t have anyone there to look after you. I can’t get to you Mum, so I don’t understand why you asked me. 

It was so dark, but I could recognise the living room. The sky outside was bleak and black, and the wind howled like a banshee.

I saw you in your old chair, nodding and smiling as the phantom forced the words from your lips.

“Push the button, James.”

Blood cascaded from your mouth, catching in your throat as you fell from the chair and coated the carpet. It bubbled as the heat droned, suffocating us all, and we choked together, as his laughter rang out. 

You can’t want this, can you? 

He says that it would make you proud, but I can’t. You understand, don’t you Mum? I just can’t.

Your skin is going to crackle Mum. Burnt and blistered. White light, like the sun as the song of the alarm surrounds you. 

Three minutes. 

You’ll bleed, and you’ll bleed. Everything will ache. He’s shown me. God, the pain. It’s like your skin is bubbling and bending, like your whole body is trying to escape from itself. Something so unholy will find a way into you, and your body will beg for a way out. 

Two minutes.

The sickness will seep into everywhere, until there’s nothing of you. All your pretty red hair will fly away in the wind, and there will be nothing left. 

One minute. 

I can’t stop it Mum. 

There isn’t another way. I’m trying, with everything I have, but I just know that you will burn. You’ll all burn, and there will be nothing left. 

He told me so. 

You want to burn, don’t you? 

I can feel it. I can hear it. It’s so deep underneath my skin that I think it might be burrowed into my bones. 

I don’t know why, but it’s like the whole world is begging me to push the button. 

I’m the only hold out. 

I’m the one who won’t have fun. Silly, cowardly, no fun, no smiles James. 

Never had a friend in the world, too shy to meet a woman, only has his Mum to write home to James. 

Never amounted to anything beyond his stupid medals and rank, never going to be remembered for anything of note, no kids, no hopes, no holidays during his time off James. 

Could be saving the world James?

Could be remembered for resisting James?  

Maybe nobody will ever know, but I will know, if I’m strong. 

Stop yourself James.

That’s all me. I’m the only one who can stop this. It’s never you. I see you in the shadows, softly smiling, with pleading, eager eyes. 

You want to burn, don’t you? 

Oh Mum. You don’t want this, do you? 

Why do you want this? 

He’s trying to trick me. It’s a trick and a trap, and I can’t fall for it, but this is so hard to resist. 

It never stops. It never ends. 

It can’t be real, can it? 

You don’t want this, do you? 

Please tell me that I can be more than this. Please tell me that I can save you. 

The other officers have opened the safes, and everything is authorised. There all waiting for me. They’re watching me Mum. I’m sitting here with one hand above the button, and one hand writing this letter, and I can feel their eyes on me. 

They’re burning too, Mum. They’re all burning, like me. Collapsing as the sea seems to take us down, throwing up like new recruits, crying, screaming and scorching, but they are all waiting. 

He says that I’ll finally be somebody if I push the button, but if I do, then you, and half the country will be nobody, just ashes and shadows on broken, battered doors. 

Please tell me that I can stop myself. 

Please tell me that my hand won’t move one more inch. 

Please let me be free. 

James x 

-x-

Operation Shepherd – Evidence File 1357.

Transcript of now removed TikTok live stream from Angela Plately – Dated March 16th 2023.

-x-

If they had heard him, then they would say he was crazy, but I knew something that they didn’t.

I could see his vision.  

I could see it in the faces of strangers. I could see it in the glittering raindrops. I could see it in the songs of the birds. 

It was beautiful. 

It is six AM, and the early birds are all awake, watching the sun rise as our screens buffer. My stomach rumbles, and it flutters. I am hungry, nervous, exhausted but wide awake. 

I have been waiting so long. I’ve been a child, waiting with wide eyes, an ingénue with wider eyes still, and now, I am a crone, with a sleepy stare, finally seeing the truth collapse from the heavens to this unclean world, to set us free. 

It is time. After the longest wait, it is finally time. The streets are empty, with the exception of a handful of leaves sweeping by, lost in the wind. The worms are fast asleep, with no idea of what awaits them. The morning has been unable to contain herself, stretching wide across the sky with a knowing yawn and a big smile. 

There are piles of puke littered around the room and our hands are scratched and sore, but we are still in good spirits. Our heads pound, ringing like church bells as the seconds slip by, but the pain is a sign. It tells us that there is not much longer to wait. 

I have been waiting for my entire life, knowing a secret that I could barely contain. The world has gone on around me, unaware that a saviour walked among us, but I knew. 

We knew. 

We have always known, and after the longest time, so would they. 

I am in the embrace of my brothers and sisters. We huddle around the screens, watching tearful, fearful newsreaders stumble through briefings that they never thought they’d have to read. Their eyes are blotchy, and puffy, but there is nothing to cry about. 

The pain is over. The world will be bright and beautiful again. It is finally time. 

It will be something special. Something beautiful. 

It will be beautiful to burn. 

My Shepherd is shared, but I know that he loves me best. I am his special one. His beautiful one. When we are free, I shall be his bride, just as he has always promised. 

The Earth must be cleansed first, so that we may have our Kingdom, and then, everything will be perfect, more wonderful than any of us could ever imagine. 

He is ancient power, intertwined with indescribable beauty, and he chose me. He chose our fate, and this time, and now, all of the world will be blessed with his kind kiss. 

The emissary below the sea is awake, and as the morning rain fell, and the sun struggled to crawl closer, he was broken, and we were born. Our Shepherd helped him to fulfil his duty, and now, we will all be free. 

I cry for those who had never known our sweet Shepherd, watching them from the window as they rush from their homes, dancing a jittery jig down the street, screaming along with the siren. 

Don’t cry my friends. There is no need to cry anymore, because we will be free. 

This is the end, and when it ends, we will be free, just like he promised. 

No pain. No sadness. No obligation. Just freedom, as we have always needed. 

Some of the people are afraid to be free. I can see that. They make a fuss, and fumble with their final three minutes, as if there is something that can be done, but not me, I’m watching them wander, and waiting for happiness. 

It will come. It has to, because it was promised, and while I am but a wretch of this cursed, cruel Earth, I have the potential to be happy. I can be reborn as something better. I can be free, at his hand. I just know I can. 

Just as he whispered to me, all those years ago. 

“Put your boy in the cadets Angela.” 

I bore our Shepherd a child before he had even laid his hands upon me. I was his immaculate lover, and together, we took a child, and made him the builder of the new world. 

He has loved me all of my life, in a way that nobody could understand, finding me as a fawn, telling me of his plans and letting me lead the way. He needed me, you see. I’m special. I could bring him something that nobody else could. 

He needed the boy, and my body lived to serve him. 

First, the cadets, then onto the Navy. Up the ranks, always with the mission in mind, but it had to be a secret. Always a secret. My boy was a good boy, and I knew he couldn’t be trusted until it was time. 

Oh, but now he is an emissary, my sweet, soft boy has become a man at last, encouraged by the one who saved me, reborn and reinvigorated. 

I am so proud. 

He was writing me letters at the end. I haven’t seen them, but our Shepherd says that my Son has the rosiest cheeks, and the sorest skin, because he has been working hard to free us all. 

When he told me that, I had never been prouder, but just now, high up in the sky, I saw a star, at six AM, spreading across the sky, so bright, like the eyes of a God or the faraway fires of Hell. 

If I could add one more thing to this moment, it would be to finally see my Shepherd. He whispers to me, and his voice is my nectar, but his eyes have always eluded mine, and before we go to the new world, I would give anything to see him, just once. 

He is so satisfying in the shadows, and sometimes, as his voice wraps around me, I can almost feel the heat of his hands about my waist. 

Let me feel it, my love. 

Embrace me. 

Caress me. 

Adore me, as the sky falls. 

It’s falling now. Breaking apart, and the air is the warmest thing I have ever felt. 

I think I will sleep now, satisfied in my thoughts of his arms, because I am due to burn, and then, to be born. 

I will have the sweetest dreams now. The softest, sweetest dreams.