Aileen's Awakening: Exploring BNWO's Prophecy

"Where the fuck are they?"

"Who, Sir?"

"The fucking Weathermen. They're late."

The ground rumbled above us, making the small tent flap in a disconcerting manner. The tent was filled with signs of nervousness: the two men fidgeting with a range of devices and radios, the man watching their surroundings meticulously, and the man who'd just asked me to my face if I knew where two members of his battalion were.

I didn't. Of course I didn't. If I did, then I wouldn't be standing here hating this weather more than I've ever hated an English summer.

A raindrop landed on my arm through the flap of the tent, causing my skin to tingle from its sudden presence. It was still raining. In England. When isn't it raining in England? Except for when it's too hot for it to rain and we get heatwaves that make people die of old age on the streets? But today wasn't either of those things; it was just a regular British summer day. "Why do we even need them when there's no clouds anyway?" I asked, trying not to let my anger and frustration show.

"Because they're bloody experts," Captain Ashfield responded as he turned back towards me from his watch outside. He was tall and thin, but somehow seemed bulkier than he had five minutes ago - he must have been getting nervous about something else.

I tried again - "But it's not like we can see anything today."

"That's why we need them," the man next to Ashfield said simply as he reached into his pocket and started turning knobs on a large device in front of him. He wore a jumper with an unmistakable logo on it. The United Kingdom Civil Defence Organisation is what it read, but I knew all too well that there was another word written very small underneath it - one which probably meant more to me than any other three words in Britain at that moment: Weathermen Division.

I hated myself for letting them persuade me into working for them. If I hadn't done that, then I wouldn't now be standing in a tent miles off-road in Surrey while standing knee-deep in mud and occasionally being pelted by raindrops that seemed to know exactly how much water you could tolerate before getting annoyed by them.

I looked over at the young woman who was sitting silently at her own workstation about ten feet away from mine - she was staring intently at her screen with a look of utter concentration on her face. She was beautiful - long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, deep blue eyes that shined against her pale skin, full lips that were pouted slightly as she looked at whatever she saw on her screen.

We'd slept together once last week - it had been amazing; so good that I couldn't look away from her now whenever she wasn't looking directly at me herself. It made me feel guilty that this would be the last time I'd ever see her again - or anyone else working here on this base - because I intended to desert as soon as our part in this exercise was over and done with.