EXTRACT FOR
PENAL COLONY NINE BOOK 12
(Author Unknown)

PENAL COLONY NINE - BOOK 12 - THE DAWN



"The darkest hour cometh just before the dawn."

Thomas Fuller, 1650



Apologies for the delay. This is the 12th and final book of the Penal Colony Nine saga. 

In December 2020, three and a half years ago, the first Book of Penal Colony Nine introduced a sprawling tale of dystopian life featuring a range of characters and, above all, Warden Bull Sykes himself. Over the next three months, eight more books followed, adding up to a total of over 120,000 words. 

When the ninth book was published in March 2021, it was stated that Book 9 was 'the last that has been discovered to date'. And that was certainly true at the time. Although most people assumed the story had ended, at least one person suspected otherwise. 

Book 12 rejoins the action in 2029, Christmas is fast approaching and almost nine years have passed since the "Glorious First". President Zadie Wood remains in power. The State's punitive 'Act of Payback' legislation is still in force. The only difference is that instead of sentencing only 'the most entitled 1 percent' to life in the penal colonies, that low threshold has steadily increased to include the most privileged 10 percent of the population. However, there are rumours of a small but growing resistance movement.

Meanwhile, Penal Colony Nine's population of prisoners has doubled from 40,000 to 80,000. This book reveals the ultimate fates of Barbara and Wyatt, Camilla and Monty, Josh and Bex and many others including, of course, Deputy Warden Giles Green and Warden Sykes himself, as the action spirals towards its darkest hour.





EXCERPT 1



It was dawn on the Mainland.

As usual at that time of day, the streets of the capital were silent and empty. A solitary fox cruised a line of overflowing bins stealthily nosing for titbits. Two crumpled sleeping bags that contained a couple of homeless bums were huddled between a pair of green recycling bins. Suddenly there was a shrill noise, as a couple of drunken kids appeared on stolen e-bikes racing each other, the sound of their laughter fading as they skidded down a side alley.

Then everything was quiet again. Only a few lights glowed like yellow squares within the windows of the tall apartment blocks that line Central District. The vast majority of people were still fast asleep. After all, there's little incentive to start work before nine thirty, particularly during the boozy runup to Christmas.

At this time of year, the temperature is cool in the early morning. Unlike the Penal Colonies to the south which suffer from year-round heat and humidity, the Mainland's weather is more seasonal. Employees prefer to snooze under their duvets most of the day, working from home. Or, as the jokers ironically call it, WFH: Wanking For Happiness. Why work when you can be paid to pleasure yourself?

However, despite the hour, exactly one dozen highly-motivated people are already wide awake. In a damp and chilly basement under a decrepit building, down one of Central District's various side streets, a hushed meeting is in full flow. Its twelve attendees murmur their disagreement in low voices.

"We can't wait any longer."

"It's time. Now!"

The elderly man at the end of the table holds up his hand for silence. He waits until everyone is looking at him. 

"We wait. The Government is planning to double the Quota. Up to twenty percent. That will be the tipping point. Then we'll face no resistance. We can complete a bloodless coup."

"But ..." several voices object.

"Joshua's already in place," says one. "He's the last. We've got our agents inside every single damned Colony now. So it's time!"

Again, their leader spreads his hands. He's a grizzled old man with short grey hair and calm, brown eyes. He is wearing a green, moth-eaten woollen cardigan with several holes in the front. He shakes his head sadly.

"We must wait."

"But Nelson! We told Joshua it would be immediate. The Day of Reckoning is now, we said! We assured him the revolution would be right behind him. We can't leave him there, not on Penal Colony Nine, of all fucking places!"

"Josh will have to wait. He knew the risks."

"But his wife didn't. The poor thing didn't have a damned clue."

That much is true.

A silence descends on the dozen insurgents gathered around the plastic table. They know how urgently the Mainland needs change. Without it, the State's bottomless appetite for every private individual's money will never end. At first the Government dressed it up as "only the one percent". They said wealth of the elite could quickly end all Inequality, Selfishness and Hunger. Then it was the privileged Three Percent, the comfortable Five Percent ... and so on.

So it's past time for a reckoning. Time for this bureaucratic cabal to be disempowered and cast out. To be replaced by a new democracy of unselfish people, run by unselfish people, for unselfish people. But this stage is full of risk. Everybody is well aware that Joshua has volunteered for this perilous mission.

But Bex, his wife, hasn't.

Nelson, the ringleader looks at them all, one by one. They meet his gaze. But he stares them down. At heart, they all know that, unfortunately, he's right. Josh must wait. A Civil War could lead to millions of casualties. The country would never heal. Victory has to be total ... and bloodless.

It's always the same with decisions like this. The DORN's meetings never end in a divisive vote. Their actions have to be decided by acclamation.

Unanimous.

"A few months, at the most." The woman sat to Nelson's right exhales, proposing a compromise she hopes they can unanimously agree upon.

In the end, they're all risking their lives. Every single one of them.

The DORN isn't a political party. DORN stands for the 'Day Of Reckoning is Now'. It is banned by the State. Its members are labelled 'terrorists' and 'extremists'. Its crimes are considered to be treason. Even a junior member of the DORN would receive an immediate life sentence to the Penal Colonies.

But for any one of them, the DORN's leadership - known as The Dozen - the sentence would be death.

Probably a slow death.

"So, we're agreed? We will wait a few months if necessary. Until the Quota's raised to twenty percent. Then we can be certain of victory."

That is more important than anything.

Even an innocent actress.

The mood around the table has shifted. Nobody's going to argue. The decision has been made.

"Surely Joshua and his wife can survive a few months on Penal Colony Nine ... " the man sat to Nelson's immediate left mutters.

"... I mean, just how bad can it be?"



EXCERPT 2



It's 02.23 hrs on Christmas morning.

Nick always divides them into Screamers and Schemers.

The former react just as you'd expect when their front door's being smashed down in the middle of the night, before realising they're being arrested. They squeal and they scream. Endlessly.

But the Schemers instantly understand what's happening. They start pleading and trying to negotiate some kind of deal, coming up with all kinds of crazy offers.

Nick's only 22yrs old but he's already the Head of 'Student Arrest District 16' - SADIST 16 - a squad of nine volunteer members of the State Militia responsible for carrying out Arrest Warrants issued under the Payback Act. He's the oldest in his team of 5 lads and 4 lasses. The others are all aged between 18 and 21. 

You see, old people aren't idealistic enough. They develop qualms and consciences. Only youth understands what's needed to truly change the world. Nick's college history thesis was on the Russian Revolution. He knew that Bolshevik party members were mostly young too: 22 percent were teenagers, 37percent were 20-24 and 16percent were 25-29. Only a quarter of the members were over 30.

Of course, you need to mix progress with pleasure. So his team have spent Christmas Eve in the pub getting hammered and bellowing out seasonal karaoke songs waiting for two o'clock to come round. Yep, they're sent to make arrests every day of the year, even Christmas Day.

It's a cute house, owned by a cute, recently married couple in their late 20s. The warrant is in the name of Mr and Mrs Anderson. There's a cute Christmas tree in their front room with brightly wrapped presents under it, a bunch of good food in the fridge, plenty of booze on the sideboard, and now a roaring husband and his cute wife up in the bedroom. They're naked and they've been interrupted.

It's quite evident that the Andersons were making seasonal love. It's their first married Christmas together. The husband's naked and his glistening dick's pointing at the ceiling when Nick bursts into their bedroom. His wife's shrieking, grabbing her robe and trying to pull it on. Her labia are visibly puffy.

"Liam and Harper Anderson," Nick recites fluently, "you are being arrested under Amendment 9b of the Payback Act. You will both be taken from here and immediately transported to a Penal Colony where you will undergo Thought Reform during a period of Forced Labor. That period will be State's Pleasure, but not less than 10 years."

The husband immediately tries to start negotiating.

"Please ... no. Look, I ... have cash. I can pay you. Just let us disappear ..."

He's a Schemer.

Nick stares at the wife. She's his type. Leggy and slim, with small, perky tits and honey-blonde hair. He nods at the guys. No words need pass between them. They grab Harper and throw her onto the bed.

She's a Screamer!

"No! Leave her ..."

Troy zaps her husband with the end of his baton. The dude collapses and starts convulsing on the bedroom floor. He'll be incapacitated for several minutes. Nick can hear the four female members of his team downstairs. They're laughing, popping corks and tearing open the gift-wrapped presents round the tree.

"Nooooo .... Ahhhh ..."

Troy grabs Harpers' lacy thong from the floor and balls it into a gag. Faisal tapes her lips shut over the gag and then uses a zip-tie to lock her wrists behind her back. They chuck her back onto the bed.

END OF EXCERPTS