"Jesus mate, you need a neuro-surgeon, not a field doc," Krank exclaimed, gesticulating wildly, spitting the remnants of the apple he'd just taken a bite out of as he spoke.
"Krank, mate, you don't think I know that. At least see what you can do for the poor sod. There ain't no way he'll survive if we don't do something," Anthony retorted with frustration.
"Sure, sure Bishop, let me get my brain surgery for dummies and a box of elasto-fucking-plasts," Krank fired back, only half paying attention to Anthony.
Ebbe was uncomfortably aware that his glances more often than not ended up in her direction. His pitted dark eyes seemed to undress her and she felt exposed in his presence. Forcing her attention elsewhere, she ran her eyes around the small living room. The soft furnishings were dirty, tatty and well past their use-by date. The couch in particular was sagging in the centre. Almost as if, Ebbe began, before realising it was exactly how it looked, Chum slept on the couch. No, more than that, he lived on the thing. She could see the remnants of food and drink surrounding it; crumbs, stains and several stained glasses beyond the hope of being washed. It was placed facing the window that faced the driveway. Just to the right of the windowsill was a small portable TV perched on a chest of drawers. The chest had clearly been dragged from it's previous position in the corner, because the carpet looked considerably cleaner in it's previous residency. He'd dragged the drawers so the TV and window were viewable simultaneously. Perhaps he had CCTV hooked up somewhere, though it wasn't obviously visible.
With a quick sideways glance to check if she was being watched, Ebbe stepped up to the TV and clicked in on. The old cathode took a while to flash an image up, but finally displayed a crisp black and white image of the rear of the house. There you have it, this guy has spent the past four months lying on the couch staring at the front and rear of this house. Four months was an estimate based on the level of dust build up on the otherwise clean patch of carpet he had exposed. That and the four dirty glasses by the couch. It struck Ebbe it could take about a month to stain a previously clean glass to the point that even a slob like Chum would consider an alternative.
He can't possibly be a doctor with such low hygiene standards, Ebbe pondered, transfixed by lifeless black and white image on the curved screen. He's a brute; a paranoid, slovenly brute with no morals or...
Ebbe froze, she swore she'd seen something move in the bushes to the right of the back fence. She squinted her eyes, peering with defined precision at the space she suspected.
"Best I can do is shoot the poor bastard up with so much morphine he'll never wake up again," she heard say Chum in the background. Impatiently she lifted her right hand and clicked her fingers loudly. She didn't look away from the screen, afraid she'll miss whatever it was that moved. She allowed herself only a brief glance to the window, but she saw nothing untoward so focused back on the screen.
"Why's that bitch clicking her..." Ebbe heard Chum start to speak, but before he'd had a chance to complete the sentence, she heard a crack and he fell silent. She couldn't help but smile to herself, trying to imagine what Anthony must have done to Chum to silence him. Part of her hoped his swift action hadn't solely been because she needed him to shut up, but partly because he'd called her a bitch.
There! The bushes shifted and Ebbe knew it was no animal. The screen was too small to give clarity, but the movement looked like someone shifting their weight and then stopping the branches moving as a result of their actions.
"Whatever you've been staring out this window waiting for, for the past four months, has just arrived," Ebbe hissed, finally turning away from the TV.
"How do you...?" Chum began, his club like hand nursing a wounded jaw.
"She just does. Exit options?"
Chum nodded downward and Anthony replied with an acknowledging nod. Without a sound, Anthony gestured with his hands to Jake and Cody, flicking his thumb at Art, still tightly strapped to the stretcher. The pair nodded and grabbed one side each.
"Show them the way and then show me where you keep your shit," Anthony managed to seem to shout, yet actually whisper, his voice both commanding and yet barely discernible.
Ebbe noticed an instant change in the formerly jovial Chum. It was if a drunkard had, in a split second, sobered up and become abstinent. He turned to her and his black eyes had lost the lascivious gaze, now replaced with an earnest determination. He nodded to her, a subtle gesture to follow him. She allowed herself one last glance at the screen before following without question. Now, at last, she could see in him a man worth following, worth trusting.
He quickly led them to a small door in the corridor. He yanked the door open roughly and knelt down. The floor appeared to be stone tiles, the same as the hallway, but with a swift jerk backwards, Chum had peeled the stone back to reveal steps leading downward. He turned to Ebbe and offered his hand, which she gladly took, the steps being extremely uneven and precipitous. She was about to step down when he pulled her back with such force the breath was sucked out of her lungs. For a second she thought the former Chum had returned, the other version simply being a very convincing act, taking advantage of the situation. He pulled her uncomfortably close to his face. His hot breath smelled strongly of garlic and coffee.
"If they put a V6 on you," he whispered, "then you must know, just as I know." With that he gave Ebbe a smile, pulled her face to his and slathered her lips with a messy kiss before practically pushing her down the stone steps into the darkness below.
Ebbe landed with a bewildered stumble, managing to stagger awkwardly down the steps. Her feet at last found stable ground and she was able to steady herself. It was pitch black, wherever she was, and underfoot felt soft, probably earth, she reasoned. She stood, breathing heavily in the darkness, her mind and body reeling from Chum's actions. What did he mean? What does he know? Her scattered thoughts were interrupted by footsteps coming from behind her. She whirled around, her eyes only just starting to adjust to the murk. She could just about discern Jake and Cody carefully carrying the stretcher down the awkward steps. As they reached the foot of the stairs the light filtering from the open flagstone above was extinguished, the stone slamming back down.
"Wait! Where's Anthony?" Ebbe exclaimed, before clasping her hand to her mouth in shock, her voice sounding so loud, as if it were echoing off a vast chamber.
Jake and Cody didn't reply and in the dark Ebbe could no longer remember where they were. It suddenly felt uncommonly still and she became painfully aware of her own heavy breathing and thumping heart. Come on Ebbe, pull yourself together woman, she tried to reason. Anthony was just getting medicine for Art, something to sedate him should he wake. Chum would be showing him where he kept it and then the pair would re-open the stone and be down here. Chum would be sure to have some way of sealing it from the inside and...
Rattatatata.
The dull sound of gun fire penetrated through the thick ceiling. Ebbe let out an involuntary squeal and stepped back. A louder squeal escaped when, with that step, she stumbled into the arms of someone who had been standing right behind her this whole time. Their arms wrapped around her tightly, gloved hand clasping tightly against her mouth. All she could smell was the petroleum infused canvass of the glove. Above, the incessant gunfire continued, compounded occasionally by some loud thuds, after which some masonry or soil sprinkled down upon her.
Ebbe felt helpless. Darkness had enveloped her every sense. The nightmarish sounds above began to fade and silence fell. Her assailant had not flinched, his firm grip true and steady. Now even his breathing seemed to slow, steady and finally dissipate completely.
Deathly silence fell.
Ebbe waited. Her attacker would surely make his choice soon enough. She was certain it wasn't Shakes, he had no reason, nor the skill to sneak up on her without being noticed. Obviously it wasn't Moon Face, strapped and more than likely paralysed on the stretcher. That left Grim Reaper, the most like suspect, taking his chance to complete the mission. Hell, it was probably Grim who had led the attackers above to their current position.
But if he was going to kill her, what was the delay. He could have done it in a split second. A strong twist on her neck would have done the job. But he was just holding her. Waiting.
Could there be someone else down in the dark? Ebbe tried to picture the house above again, pushing aside the gruesome image of Anthony riddled with bullets that had initially emerged. Did the evidence suggest one or more other occupants? No, Ebbe concluded, she would have read the signs, had they been there. Chum was up there all alone. But that didn't discount the presence of others below. After all what was he doing up there? He was the watchman. Of course! How could I have been so dim, Ebbe cursed herself. Chum wasn't the kind of man to live in fear. He was a great ox of a man, striding through life like he was indestructible. And if he wasn't holed up in that shabby house, cowering in fear of who may come after him, what was he doing? Protecting something. Or someone. Or both. Ebbe reached back into her mind and did a walk through from the first meeting with Chum, through to his extremely unpleasant kiss. Something on Chum, something he said, or something in the house would give her a clue.
Wait...
"James?" Ebbe said out loud cautiously. In an instant the grip was released and she fell to the floor. Ebbe scrambled backwards instinctively, until she bumped into something metallic. Her fumbling hands grasped at it, using it as leverage to stand, her legs still shaking, betraying the nerves she was trying so hard to swallow.
"How," a young man's voice began, "how do you know my name?"
"Turn on the light and I'll tell you," replied Ebbe, controlling her breathing, doing her utmost to sound calm.
