The Penal Colony
It is 1997. The British government now runs island prison colonies to take dangerous offenders from its overcrowded mainland jails. Among all these colonies, Sert, 25 miles off the north Cornish coast, has the worst reputation. There are no warders. Satellite technology is used to keep the convicts under watch. New arrivals are dumped by helicopter and must learn to survive as best they can. But not all the islanders are savages. Under the charismatic leadership of one man a community has evolved. A community with harsh and unyielding rules, peopled by resourceful men for whom the hopeless dream of escape may not be so hopeless after all ...
Approx. 102,785 words.
-- next to which was a quantity of clothing, neatly folded and arranged.
"He gave his name correctly when asked," King began.
"Did you tell him where he's been sent?"
"Yes, Mr Appleton."
"Anything more?"
"No." King checked himself. "I did tell him how this house came to be here."
"That was a mistake, Mr King."
"Yes. I'm sorry. I also told him that the lighthouse exists, and the houses at Old Town. Nothing more. Just that they exist."
"Very well." Appleton's expressionless brown eyes examined Routledge for a moment. "Go on. Did he talk in his sleep?"
"Yes, but nothing made any sense. He said 'Louise' once or twice."
With a confirming forefinger Appleton briefly consulted his papers. Routledge wondered what else Appleton knew about him, besides the name of his wife. "What happened when he awoke?"
"He threw up, or tried to. Then he started to cry."
"Was this after you'd told him where he is?"
"Yes."
"Anything else?"
