Harvey, a scout from North Greenwich, prepares for a solitary mission to deliver a sealed document to Green Park. The chapter opens with a quiet moment of ritual as he packs his bag, placing his old Bible last, not out of superstition, but as a mental anchor. The rifle over his shoulder, the sleeping bag secured beneath his rucksack, every item he carries feels weighted with memory and moral tension. Though fully equipped, Harvey senses that what lies ahead requires more than provisions. It demands something internal, identity, conviction, the strength to move forward despite uncertainty.
As he walks through the dimly lit corridors of North Greenwich station, Harvey passes sleeping tents, makeshift shelters, and signs of a crumbling society that has adapted to life underground. The Tube is no longer a transport system but a living organism of ruins and survival. The air is thick with mould and old smoke, the silence unsettling. He recalls the moment twenty years earlier when he descended into the underground with his father and brother, fleeing catastrophe. That descent marked a rupture, a new reality from which he never returned.
Now, the familiar tunnels feel alien. Once memorized routes are distorted by decay, colonized by new structures, tarp dwellings, rusted beds, burned-out machinery. As Harvey approaches a fire near the entrance to the westbound tunnel, he finds four customs officers gathered in silence: Mark Redford, a grizzled ex-inspector; Yusuf Baran, a disciplined Kurdish convert; Stanislaw Kowalski, a Catholic from Kraków; and Kwame Okoye, a scarred man of Nigerian descent who no longer believes in God. They are guardians of an unseen border, each scarred by years of watching, surviving, remembering.
Through hushed conversation around the fire and over bitter mushroom tea, they share troubling news. A trader claimed to have escaped from chaos at Canada Water just hours earlier, gunshots, crowds fleeing in panic, strange silences. No one knows if the man was honest or drunk, planted or delusional. But the details he gave people disappearing, sealed checkpoints, breakaway colonies in the west, match other stories whispered in the shadows of the Tube.
As the tea passes, a picture forms: something is happening beyond the known map. Western stations like Bond Street, Paddington, Edgware are changing. Not just politically, but structurally, psychologically. Rumors suggest a splintered faction is asserting control: extorting traders, isolating communities, enforcing a rigid system that rejects dialogue. The silence from the west isn’t accidental, it’s systemic. These stations no longer send messengers or receive supplies. They are becoming something else. A parallel regime.
Harvey listens but does not yet commit. His primary mission is clear: deliver the document. Yet his thoughts are consumed by the absence of his friends, Adrian and Mason, who failed to return from a scouting mission. No sign, no message, no trace. Though logic tells him they wouldn’t have reached Canada Water, the proximity of the chaos, the possibility of deception, weighs on him. Doubt creeps in. Should he trust the story? Should he abandon the mission?
Mark questions his destination, suspecting Harvey isn’t just “checking a nearby station.” Harvey offers a half-truth: a short detour, then sleep. But the rifle at his side, the deliberate tension in his movements, and the silence from the men suggest they all know more is at stake.
The chapter ends with Harvey stepping into the dark tunnel, his headlamp cutting a thin wound through the blackness. Around him, the dead flesh of the Tube absorbs every sound. The sealed document rests against his chest. Every step feels like a test. Not just of duty, but of loyalty, of truth, of whether the world he knows is about to break beyond repair. His friends may be lost. The factions may be shifting. But his decision is made. And now, the consequences begin.
London Tube 2033 