Chapters

Saturday 23 March 2013

Chapter 11 - Part 2

Anthony was unceremoniously dragged backwards. As soon as his right hand was free, he grasped at any loose rocks and hurriedly shoved them into his pocket. The second he'd realised Atkins was his rescuer he'd concluded he'd rather die trying to flee than be taken as a captive. He knew his limbs would not be up to supporting him so the chances of success were slim; any chance to even the odds were to be taken.

A slim, beak nosed soldier tugged at his arm and pulled him to his feet. But his legs were not willing to co-operate with this concept and immediately buckled. Beak nose just let him crumple to the floor like a ragdoll. Anthony took the chance to glance behind and check out the state of the corridor behind him.

Interesting, he thought, that beam saved my life, but if they'd dug from the opposite side the beam would have shifted first and sent half a ton of English countryside onto my noggin. Somehow he instinctively knew Ebbe would have seen the exact same thing and halted any further rescue attempt.

"Come on your lazy twat," beak nosed coughed at him, sounding to Anthony as if he were in the early stages of lung cancer.

Anthony looked up at the scowling face of the soldier and wondered if he had the energy to shove that damned nose into his brain with the palm of his hand. Still, what use would that do, one solider down, and the rest would just swarm on him. Best wait it out a little longer.

Beak nose grasped at his right arm and tugged him back to his feet and, before he could fall again, a second soldier counterbalanced his left side. The pair started to drag him back into the cellar, his feet scraping uselessly against the dirt floor.

Atkins didn't even glance at him as he was pulled past. His full attention was on the still blocked corridor, though Anthony noticed he was unwilling to step too far into the collapsed area. He was a cautious man, unwilling to place himself in harms way. He was many things, but he was not a fool. Several of his men, however, were in the corridor still trying to shift the rocks and break through to the other side.

Beak nose and his accomplice tossed Anthony to the ground at the foot of the steps. He sensed beaky was planning to make good on Atkins' instruction to reward his survival with some broken bones. Better to act now and have bones intact, than try and catch Atkins in the tunnel.

The wry smile on Anthony's face gave beak nose pause. He turned to his colleague and looked as if he may shout something by way of a warning to Atkins, still peering through the entrance of the corridor. But there was no time for such niceties.

Anthony pressed a small button on inside left of his wristwatch and the tiny silver explosive device he had scratched off his combats earlier detonated, with enough power to shift that unstable beam. Beak nose and his friend were knocked off their feet as a shock wave powered through the room, bringing with it a choking cloud of dust. Anthony didn't take the time to check if Atkins had been swallowed up by the debris. He knew, with his legs still out of action, he had seconds to act. Grabbing the sharpest rock from his pocket, he dragged himself forward, and lunged at the nearest body to his. The rock sunk into the flesh at the nape of the neck of an unseen foe. His victim began to gargle and flail uselessly, his lifeblood already pumping out fatally.

Anthony heard the click of a safety catch being removed. Using his arms he pulled himself towards the sound, rolling to the left just as the crack crack crack sound of the gun firing sent a deadly hail of bullets at his last known position. If he didn't bring his assailant down to his level in the next few seconds, he was dead.

With a swing of his arm, his hand made contact with material and he grasped tightly and tugged. He sensed the weight of a body beginning to fall. A gun fired upwards and backwards, before the body crashed to the ground. Before they could react further Anthony scrambled across the man and pressed his forearm across his neck. The cloud of dust was beginning to settle now and Anthony was disappointed to recognise his captive as beak nose, rather than Atkins. With swift pressure he squeezed the air from his lungs and beaky passed out, his body going limp. Anthony rolled off and grabbed the assault rifle that had fallen from his hands.

Now if only my damned legs could get me up those stairs, Anthony cursed. There's sure to be a fucking platoon of these bastards up there, if I crawl my sorry arse up there, I'm just going to get shot to shit. Besides, where's Atkins?

As if the thought had somehow awoken the man himself, Anthony found himself seeing double after a swift kick in the head from Atkins.

"I presume you think you've made an impact Bishop?" Atkins spat, "but you don't even understand what you're protecting. Do you? Has it ever occurred to you that you were on the wrong side? That maybe someone was hiding something here from us all and preventing an uprising that is long overdue? Who are you to help hide the truth?"

Anthony tried to lift the rifle, but Atkins placed his foot on his hand, crushing the grip away. A swift flick of his foot sent the rifle sliding up to the wall.

"Truth?" Anthony cursed, "when were you ever interested in the truth? I think you've mistaken truth for power Atkins."

Atkins laughed.

"I fear this is neither the time, nor place, for a philosophical debate my good man," and with a sneer he pulled out a pistol from it's holster. "Shame, I was looking forward to breaking you, but I can tell you would only be a liability if left alive."

The pistol was aimed at Anthony's forehead.

A deep guttural throbbing from deep within the Earth gave him pause. His trigger finger lingered ominously. Anthony knew he would have no time to roll out of the way. It was practically point blank range and the bullet would have exited the back of his skull before he'd even had the thought to move.

The deep bass throbbing mysteriously from far below stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and in that split second Anthony knew his time was up.

"What the?" Atkins exclaimed, waving his arms wildly, sending a stray bullet ricocheting past Anthony's ear, close enough to draw blood.

Anthony watched in dazed bemusement as Atkins began to lift off the basement floor gently, before he also began to drift upwards gently. Loose rocks and debris began to follow them in their ascent.

Atkins flailed his arms, still grasping the gun tightly, trying to steady himself as he floated close and closer to the ceiling.

Anthony quickly found that despite his legs still being dead, if he made swimming motions with his arms, he could move forwards through the air. Whatever was happening was besides the point for a moment. The fears of the unknown had to wait until his life was safe. This was probably the one chance he had and he wasn't going to waste it.

Using a breast stroke manoeuvre Anthony thrust himself directly at Atkins, who spotted him drifting towards him at the last second. Despite being clearly disturbed by his new found weightlessness Atkins swept his gun upwards and fired just as Anthony crashed into him and pushed him up into the ceiling.

The two men tussled. The gun fired a second time before being knocked free and floating off to the opposite side of the basement. Bubbles of blood floated away gracefully from the battling men and splashed against the wall. A well placed punch to Anthony's gut split the pair apart. Atkins was holding his left arm, bubbles of blood seeping out.

The pair eyed the gun, bouncing against the far wall. With a war cry Atkins pushed against the opposite wall with his legs and floated towards the gun. Anthony, unable to do the same looked around the room frantically. Atkins grasped the gun with glee, turned and fired without pause.