"Like I said. There's only one answer to this," Anthony replied.
"Like you said," Krank agreed.
Anthony turned and pointed his gun at Krank.
"You'll have to die."
"Makes sense," Krank replied, unconcerned.
"How can we do this?" Anthony asked, peering through the cracked window pane, checking for signs of life.
"You wanted to see what I have in my medicine cabinet," Krank said with a grin.
Anthony nodded, before pointing his gun out of the window one last time and firing off a few thunderous rounds randomly, without even looking where he was aiming. Krank took the opportunity to stand and began to make his way out of the living room. In a split second Anthony was behind him and followed the hulking man as he wound his way through the corridor and into the kitchen. The sink was stacked with filthy, food encrusted plates, upon which flies were busily darting about. The hob was similarly unkempt, adorned with rusting metal pots and a saucepan that had a slick layer of hardened fat sitting inside.
Much to Anthony's surprise Krank made a beeline for the oven, and appeared to be turning on one of the hobs.
"No time for a bacon buttie Krank," Anthony muttered, his eyes scouring all around, his ears alert to any imminent intruders. He turned back to Krank just in time to see the top of the oven pop open with a sigh and the entire hob simply lifted like a lid, the dirty pots and pans staying in place, presumably glued on as props. Anthony couldn't help but cackle at the sight, as Krank leant in and began routing around in the depths of the oven. "A little theatrical don't you think?" Anthony said with a laugh.
"Needs must," Krank retorted, his deep voice muffled within the oven.
"Whatever you're looking for, you need to find it soon mate," Anthony hissed, his face suddenly serious. He had heard the click of the front door and knew they were going to be overwhelmed within a minute.
"Ha!" Krank cheered triumphantly, emerging from the fake oven and slamming the hob back down so it looked as unassuming as before. In his hand was a small clear, unlabelled bottle, protected with a wax sealed cork.
Both men were aware of the footsteps, at least half a dozen men from the sound of it, in the house and searching, room by room. It would be seconds before they were found.
"No time for pleasantries it seems," Krank lamented before smashing the tip of the bottle off on the counter top and gouging his neck with the shattered remains, allowing the colourless liquid to seep into the wound. Anthony stared at him, watching the blood weep out from the deep self-inflicted wound. Nothing happened and Anthony felt a sense of panic well up in his chest. Had Krank picked the wrong bottle? Were the symptoms too slow for this purpose? Goddamn it Krank, you should be prepared for any and all eventualities, how can this be part of your plan?
"What are you waiting for man?" Krank shouted at Anthony in frustration. Anthony frowned, genuinely unsure what Krank wanted of him. "Shoot me you stupid bastard," Krank screamed as the shadows of their attackers made themselves apparent on the stained wall of the hallway. Trusting Krank knew what he was doing Anthony duly lifted his handgun without further hesitation, and, just as five men burst in pointing their weapons directly at the pair, he fired. Before anyone could react, Krank tumbled to the floor like a sack of potatoes. A trickle of blood seeped out from his chest.
"Drop your weapon," one man shouted gruffly. Anthony readily obliged, knowing to do anything else would end with him riddled with holes.
"Commander Bishop?" a familiar voice rasped from the hallway. Anthony's heart sunk. He despised that voice. He despised the man it belonged to. He despised everything he represented. "Lower you weapons," the voice commanded.
The men did as told and then parted without a word, allowing the tall thin man to step through grandly.
"Atkins," Anthony acknowledged, his voice low and threatening.
"Bishop," Atkins responded, "it seems you are trying to sabotage my operation." He peered down at the shattered remains of the bottle Krank had been holding and stooped to investigate. Silently he waved to one of his men, who responded by handing him a glove. Anthony watched as he pulled on the glove with a theatrical flourish and then picked up the bottle gingerly. A quick sniff of the residue and the bottle was quickly discarded, along with the glove. Atkins stood and strode up to a defiant Anthony.
"Tetrodotoxin," Atkins rasped, "how," he gave a thoughtful pause, "predictable," he finished, before turning to look at the chest wound, still oozing blood. "That, on the other hand, is unexpected." Atkins turned to another of his men and nodded to Krank's body, "check him." The man nodded, but before he could move Atkins grabbed his arm and pulled him close, "careful," he hissed, barely discernible through his thick sandpaper voice. Again the man nodded dutifully before heading over to Krank and kneeling down to undertake a quick examination. Anthony didn't take his eyes off Atkins.
After about a minute the man stood and whispered something into Atkins' ear. Atkins nodded gravely and stroked his trimmed beard thoughtfully.
"My understanding is that to open this hatchway, I need that man both alive and with a healthy pulse. My man here tells me he is currently alive, but soon to die from either toxic poisoning or your gunshot wound." Atkins paused and glared back at Anthony, who had yet to flinch.
"I guess you're shit out of luck Atkins, may as well crawl back under that rock of yours," Anthony responded bluntly.
"Yes. Yes. I could do that couldn't I?" Atkins countered, "or, and I think I prefer this option, we could make our way to that hatch anyway and see just how dead our leviathan friend truly is."
Anthony shrugged, and nodded.
"Be my guest," he replied, sounding unconcerned.
"I must admit, I am more than a little curious as to what he has been hiding from us all this time." Atkins said with a hint of genuine enthusiasm.
"Me too," Anthony muttered.
"Pick him up," Atkins barked to two of him men, peering down his nose at them, as if to remind them to be careful. He then grasped Anthony's arm tightly and dragged him towards the basement door. "Interesting fact Bishop," Atkins started, "about tetrodotoxin." He paused, perhaps expected Anthony to respond, but Anthony felt it better to leave him hanging. He wondered how long it would be before Atkins picked up that he had no intention of taking the conversational bait. Atkins was always fishing for the dramatic, the theatrical. He never did things the easy way, it always had to have some sort of flourish. That pissed Anthony off.
"It doesn't work. You take it. You die. The idea it created the zombie myth is just populist trash." Atkins finally continued regardless. Almost forty seconds he'd waited, Anthony counted. A lot can happen in forty seconds. In that time Anthony had concluded that Krank had not poisoned himself with tetrodotoxin. Atkins was right about that; the chances of surviving the toxic poison was slim, and that was with a stomach pump and a life support machine. The second was that he had definitely hit Krank smack in the middle of his metal plate and although it would have hurt like a son of a bitch, he would not have a punctured lung filling with fluids, soon to drown him. This meant that if they did get to the hatch, there was all the chance in the world that everything Krank had fought to protect was about to be revealed. Killing Krank was clearly harder than he had expected. There was only one chance left and it would be a serious risk.
They reached the basement door and one of Atkins' seemingly silent men opened the door, before stepping in and lifting the stone hatch. It was at this precise moment that Anthony made his move. His elbow found its way expertly into Atkins' kidney, sending him crashing to the floor. Before anyone could react Anthony had grabbed the gun from the nearest man to him and then shoved it back at his face, cracking the butt into the man's chin. The man who had opened the hatch lunged at him with a muted cry, but Anthony was already diving at the pair carrying Krank. With his vast bulk weighing them down, they were unable to prevent him from grasping Krank by his belt, and with all his might, leaning back and tumbling onto his back. Krank's dead weight threatened to overwhelm him but with a grunt he managed to prop Krank up with his raised legs as he fell back and quickly gravity stepped in to help, pulling the vast man's limp body backwards, over Anthony's shoulder and into the gaping hole of the basement. All heard his body tumble and crash down the stone stairs before coming to a bone crunching halt.
Atkins picked himself from the floor, his face twisted with fury. He eyed his men menacingly before turning to Anthony, who was already standing again.
"You've just
condemned you and your pals. You know that right?" Atkins rasped angrily.
"If you wanted us
dead you'd have blown us to kingdom come, not knocked on the door and
played peeka-fucking-boo," Anthony's replied defiantly.
"Get down there," Atkins demanded, dusting down his fatigues, trying to recover his composure.
Anthony obliged, hoping Krank wouldn't be too pissed about being chucked down the stairs.
Sunday, 22 July 2012
Saturday, 23 June 2012
Chapter 8 - Part 2
Ebbe stared, aghast, at Chum's limp body. She swore her heart had skipped a beat, out of shock, as she'd seen him tumble down the uneven stone steps like a sack of potatoes. It also sounded like something had cracked as he landed, suggesting to her that, even if he had been alive when first thrown, he wasn't upon landing. Before she had time to make any further observations she heard voices, clearly in voracious disagreement with each other; one she recognised to be Anthony.
"You've just condemned you and your pals. You know that right?" Said an unfamiliar voice. It was deep and rasping, probably the result of a heavy smoking habit.
"If you wanted us dead you'd have blown us to kingdom come, not knocked on the door and played peeka-fucking-boo," came Anthony's defiant reply.
"Get down there," the other voice demanded.
Ebbe glanced over to James, to see how he was holding up. She was surprised to see he had refused to be distracted by the commotion on the stairs, and was keeping his sights trained steadfastly on Shakes. Shakes was, on the other hand, utterly unperturbed by the threat posed by James' weapon and was focused fully on Anthony as he emerged at the top of the stairs, and made his way, somewhat nonchalantly, down to the basement floor.
Ebbe returned her attention to Anthony, who caught her eye as soon as he was level with her. Much to her surprise he gave her a cheeky wink, presumably suggesting things were actually going to plan, despite appearances to the contrary. Ebbe's mind raced, replaying the hideous image of Chum's bulky body tumbling down over the thick stone slabs and slamming with dead weight to the dirt floor. Nothing she could see suggested that was a carefully orchestrated fall, part of some great bluff. What was Anthony playing at? All she could presume was he had reached a similar conclusion to her; they had all been played and now he was playing right back.
Attempting to reassure herself that things were in their favour, Ebbe tore her eyes away from Anthony and sized up his captor. He was a tall, slender man, with a neatly trimmed beard, dressed in standard army fatigues. He was holding a pistol in his right hand and a grenade in the other. The latter gave Ebbe great cause for concern in this contained space, with nothing suitable to take cover behind. The man, with his thin pale face and dark pitted eyes, reminded Ebbe of a shark. As he reached the base of the stairs, several armed men also began to emerge through the hole and began trotting down the steps with quiet efficiency. Five men reached the bottom and pointed their automatic weapons at Ebbe, Anthony and James.
Shark man gestured with his gun to James with a quizzical look.
"Seems we have a turncoat," Shakes said by way of explanation, before standing, clearly confident James was no longer in a position to fire.
"Interesting," Shark man rasped in a voice that Ebbe found irritating. "Check him," he gestured to Chum. Shakes duly made his way to the body and knelt down. He quickly stood and shook his head.
"Dead," he said bluntly.
"What a pity," Shark man responded, clearing his throat a little, "seems we underestimated you Bishop."
"I tried to tell you," Anthony replied.
"Because of you I've failed my mission," Shark man began, waving his pistol as he spoke, "what do you suggest I do now Bishop?"
"Go home, have a cup of tea and a scone," Anthony replied, his voice heavily laced with sarcasm.
Shark man laughed briefly, but stopped so abruptly Ebbe doubted it was genuine.
"He one of yours?" Shark man asked, gesticulating the gun towards James.
Anthony turned and looked James up and down briefly.
"Never seen him before in my life," Anthony replied.
Shark man soaked up this reply before turning to Ebbe. He strode up to her and lifted the grenade up to her face, rubbing it's smooth curved surface against her left cheek. She shuddered as the cold metal brushed against her soft flesh, but tried to remain steadfast, attempting not to be intimidated by his actions.
"But you have. Haven't you?" Shark man said to Ebbe, more declarative than questioning.
Ebbe opted not to answer, but knew that her face had given away the truth.
"It seems there are factors in this operation all of us are in the dark about," he mused, finally moving away from Ebbe.
"Aren't there always?" Anthony interjected coolly.
Shark man turned and gave a wry smile.
"Quite right, quite right," he agreed, suddenly seeming to Ebbe quite genial and unconcerned about their presence. "I suppose I ought to make a report," he continued, now speaking to himself rather than anyone in particular. "How tiresome," he began, now clearly addressing Anthony, "that we must gather instruction from above even on the matter of killing you and your friends. We are just monkeys in the zoo, are we not?" And with that he nodded to his men, who all turned silently and marched obediently back up the stairs.
"Disarm the child and follow me," Shark man said to Shakes, who gave a short nod.
Shakes turned and with remarkable stealth made his way across the room to James. Without saying a word he snatched the weapon from James' limp grasp, turned and was about to walk away when he changed his mind. Instead Shakes turned back to face James and with a sneer gave him a brutal shove in the chest, using a flat palm. James tumbled to the ground in an instant, and, before he turned, Shakes kicked the loose earth at a cowering James. Finally he turned, the look of pleasure on his face giving Ebbe the creeps.
"Pathetic," Shakes spat as he passed Ebbe and strode up the stairs.
Shark man didn't seem to give them a second thought, opting to stride up the stairs. He reached the top and then bent down and gave a toothy grin.
"On second thoughts," he said, before tossing the grenade into the basement. Ebbe felt the muscles in her body loosen as she watched the small device bounce on the steps, almost in slow motion. Wanting to run, dive or simply fall to the ground and curl up in a ball, Ebbe instead found herself rooted to the spot. Her legs felt like jelly, yet she was unable to move.
Anthony on the other hand was already sprinting towards the grenade, genuine fear clearly visible in his eyes for the first time since Ebbe had met him. As the hatch above closed, shutting off the natural light that had been filtering through, Anthony dove onto the grenade. Ebbe held her breath and waited for him to split open, wanting to scrunch her eyes closed, but finding she was too scared to do anything but watch, agog, knowing at best he could prevent everyone else from dying, and admiring his bravery.
But it seemed that the device ought to have exploded by now. Instead Anthony was fumbling with something under his chest and was remaining defiantly unexploded. He let out a sudden shout of relief before standing, two objects clutched in one hand each. Anthony nodded to Ebbe, his face caked with dirt and sweat, his eyes wide, his chest rising and falling fast. She managed a small nod back, but her body was still refusing to move, when what she really wanted to do was run up to him and jump into his arms.
If Anthony wanted any such thing, Ebbe couldn't tell.
"How you doing James?" Anthony asked, making his way across the room. Strange, Ebbe thought, had anyone mentioned his name since Anthony had arrived in the room. She thought not.
"Not too bad sir," James replied, dusting himself off and standing.
"Good job son," Anthony said before thrusting a hand in James' direction, "hold this will you?" Anthony was about to hand whatever it was over, but paused, "you do know how to hold this?" he quizzed seriously.
Ebbe, feeling curious, finally found herself relaxing enough to move, shifted to the side a bit and craned her neck to see what Anthony was grasping. She quickly regretted having done so. Anthony was holding a grenade in each hand. He was attempting to pass one to James. Ebbe felt her head start to swim; the constant threat of death was starting to take its toll and she found her legs buckle and give way. She tumbled to the floor, only just managing to thrust out an arm and catch herself enough to not fall too hard.
"You need one finger at the base, and these three fingers clasped over the lever, and the thumb here," she could hear Anthony instructing in the corner. She half expected to hear an explosion moments later and found herself scrunching her eyes tightly closed. But as before the explosion didn't arrive. Instead she gasped when an arm gripped hers and pulled her to her feet firmly. Her eyes burst open to find Anthony now by her side.
"Part of the plan?" She managed to mutter to him. He looked at the remaining grenade in his left hand and shook his head.
"We don't have much time, these things could go off any second, and if they don't he'll soon wonder why," he said by way of response.
"Much time to do what?" Ebbe quizzed curiously.
"I'll show you," a new voice boomed from the other side of the room. Ebbe turned with a start. Much to her great surprise she saw Chum propping himself up against the stairway, a big grin plastered across his face.
"You've just condemned you and your pals. You know that right?" Said an unfamiliar voice. It was deep and rasping, probably the result of a heavy smoking habit.
"If you wanted us dead you'd have blown us to kingdom come, not knocked on the door and played peeka-fucking-boo," came Anthony's defiant reply.
"Get down there," the other voice demanded.
Ebbe glanced over to James, to see how he was holding up. She was surprised to see he had refused to be distracted by the commotion on the stairs, and was keeping his sights trained steadfastly on Shakes. Shakes was, on the other hand, utterly unperturbed by the threat posed by James' weapon and was focused fully on Anthony as he emerged at the top of the stairs, and made his way, somewhat nonchalantly, down to the basement floor.
Ebbe returned her attention to Anthony, who caught her eye as soon as he was level with her. Much to her surprise he gave her a cheeky wink, presumably suggesting things were actually going to plan, despite appearances to the contrary. Ebbe's mind raced, replaying the hideous image of Chum's bulky body tumbling down over the thick stone slabs and slamming with dead weight to the dirt floor. Nothing she could see suggested that was a carefully orchestrated fall, part of some great bluff. What was Anthony playing at? All she could presume was he had reached a similar conclusion to her; they had all been played and now he was playing right back.
Attempting to reassure herself that things were in their favour, Ebbe tore her eyes away from Anthony and sized up his captor. He was a tall, slender man, with a neatly trimmed beard, dressed in standard army fatigues. He was holding a pistol in his right hand and a grenade in the other. The latter gave Ebbe great cause for concern in this contained space, with nothing suitable to take cover behind. The man, with his thin pale face and dark pitted eyes, reminded Ebbe of a shark. As he reached the base of the stairs, several armed men also began to emerge through the hole and began trotting down the steps with quiet efficiency. Five men reached the bottom and pointed their automatic weapons at Ebbe, Anthony and James.
Shark man gestured with his gun to James with a quizzical look.
"Seems we have a turncoat," Shakes said by way of explanation, before standing, clearly confident James was no longer in a position to fire.
"Interesting," Shark man rasped in a voice that Ebbe found irritating. "Check him," he gestured to Chum. Shakes duly made his way to the body and knelt down. He quickly stood and shook his head.
"Dead," he said bluntly.
"What a pity," Shark man responded, clearing his throat a little, "seems we underestimated you Bishop."
"I tried to tell you," Anthony replied.
"Because of you I've failed my mission," Shark man began, waving his pistol as he spoke, "what do you suggest I do now Bishop?"
"Go home, have a cup of tea and a scone," Anthony replied, his voice heavily laced with sarcasm.
Shark man laughed briefly, but stopped so abruptly Ebbe doubted it was genuine.
"He one of yours?" Shark man asked, gesticulating the gun towards James.
Anthony turned and looked James up and down briefly.
"Never seen him before in my life," Anthony replied.
Shark man soaked up this reply before turning to Ebbe. He strode up to her and lifted the grenade up to her face, rubbing it's smooth curved surface against her left cheek. She shuddered as the cold metal brushed against her soft flesh, but tried to remain steadfast, attempting not to be intimidated by his actions.
"But you have. Haven't you?" Shark man said to Ebbe, more declarative than questioning.
Ebbe opted not to answer, but knew that her face had given away the truth.
"It seems there are factors in this operation all of us are in the dark about," he mused, finally moving away from Ebbe.
"Aren't there always?" Anthony interjected coolly.
Shark man turned and gave a wry smile.
"Quite right, quite right," he agreed, suddenly seeming to Ebbe quite genial and unconcerned about their presence. "I suppose I ought to make a report," he continued, now speaking to himself rather than anyone in particular. "How tiresome," he began, now clearly addressing Anthony, "that we must gather instruction from above even on the matter of killing you and your friends. We are just monkeys in the zoo, are we not?" And with that he nodded to his men, who all turned silently and marched obediently back up the stairs.
"Disarm the child and follow me," Shark man said to Shakes, who gave a short nod.
Shakes turned and with remarkable stealth made his way across the room to James. Without saying a word he snatched the weapon from James' limp grasp, turned and was about to walk away when he changed his mind. Instead Shakes turned back to face James and with a sneer gave him a brutal shove in the chest, using a flat palm. James tumbled to the ground in an instant, and, before he turned, Shakes kicked the loose earth at a cowering James. Finally he turned, the look of pleasure on his face giving Ebbe the creeps.
"Pathetic," Shakes spat as he passed Ebbe and strode up the stairs.
Shark man didn't seem to give them a second thought, opting to stride up the stairs. He reached the top and then bent down and gave a toothy grin.
"On second thoughts," he said, before tossing the grenade into the basement. Ebbe felt the muscles in her body loosen as she watched the small device bounce on the steps, almost in slow motion. Wanting to run, dive or simply fall to the ground and curl up in a ball, Ebbe instead found herself rooted to the spot. Her legs felt like jelly, yet she was unable to move.
Anthony on the other hand was already sprinting towards the grenade, genuine fear clearly visible in his eyes for the first time since Ebbe had met him. As the hatch above closed, shutting off the natural light that had been filtering through, Anthony dove onto the grenade. Ebbe held her breath and waited for him to split open, wanting to scrunch her eyes closed, but finding she was too scared to do anything but watch, agog, knowing at best he could prevent everyone else from dying, and admiring his bravery.
But it seemed that the device ought to have exploded by now. Instead Anthony was fumbling with something under his chest and was remaining defiantly unexploded. He let out a sudden shout of relief before standing, two objects clutched in one hand each. Anthony nodded to Ebbe, his face caked with dirt and sweat, his eyes wide, his chest rising and falling fast. She managed a small nod back, but her body was still refusing to move, when what she really wanted to do was run up to him and jump into his arms.
If Anthony wanted any such thing, Ebbe couldn't tell.
"How you doing James?" Anthony asked, making his way across the room. Strange, Ebbe thought, had anyone mentioned his name since Anthony had arrived in the room. She thought not.
"Not too bad sir," James replied, dusting himself off and standing.
"Good job son," Anthony said before thrusting a hand in James' direction, "hold this will you?" Anthony was about to hand whatever it was over, but paused, "you do know how to hold this?" he quizzed seriously.
Ebbe, feeling curious, finally found herself relaxing enough to move, shifted to the side a bit and craned her neck to see what Anthony was grasping. She quickly regretted having done so. Anthony was holding a grenade in each hand. He was attempting to pass one to James. Ebbe felt her head start to swim; the constant threat of death was starting to take its toll and she found her legs buckle and give way. She tumbled to the floor, only just managing to thrust out an arm and catch herself enough to not fall too hard.
"You need one finger at the base, and these three fingers clasped over the lever, and the thumb here," she could hear Anthony instructing in the corner. She half expected to hear an explosion moments later and found herself scrunching her eyes tightly closed. But as before the explosion didn't arrive. Instead she gasped when an arm gripped hers and pulled her to her feet firmly. Her eyes burst open to find Anthony now by her side.
"Part of the plan?" She managed to mutter to him. He looked at the remaining grenade in his left hand and shook his head.
"We don't have much time, these things could go off any second, and if they don't he'll soon wonder why," he said by way of response.
"Much time to do what?" Ebbe quizzed curiously.
"I'll show you," a new voice boomed from the other side of the room. Ebbe turned with a start. Much to her great surprise she saw Chum propping himself up against the stairway, a big grin plastered across his face.
Wednesday, 6 June 2012
Chapter 8 - Part 1
Ebbe stared at the reflection of the waning moon, looking like a chipped pearl drifting on the gently lolling water. She allowed herself a little wistful sigh, thinking back to the days when she had the luxury to soak up such moments. Now it was merely a snatched opportunity as she made her way back to the observatory, two hot cups of coffee defrosting her hands pleasantly.
The crunch of the leaves and the snap of the bracken beneath her feet always made her smile. It seemed so much more agreeable to have sound and texture underfoot, rather than the insensitive solidity of a pavement. It was for this, more than the need for the bad coffee served by the café on the tiny viewing station up the path, that brought her out into the cold air. That and the need to escape the observatory for a couple of hours. Kielder Observatory was of course, not so far away and that had a magnificent telescope. It was even easily accessible by the public. But that was also the problem. What Ebbe wanted to look at, she wanted to look at without herself being observed, without the questions and the probing. People could never just let you be in such places. Besides, such places were bound to be watched. Ebbe had already sensed via the chatter on the usual paranoid websites that the government wasn't keen on anyone taking too much interest in the skies.
Ebbe suddenly froze on the spot. To the far right, up a small slope and in a tiny opening amongst the towering trunks disappearing into the dark heights above, was a petite deer. Ebbe suspected it was a Roe deer, probably not fully grown yet. She watched fascinated as it tentatively trotted towards something indiscernible on the ground. It dipped it's neck, legs still relatively straight and gave a curious sniff. Without warning the deer gave a scared jump backwards and turned to flee, before pausing and and slowly, perhaps bravely, turning back to face the mystery foe. Ebbe found she was holding her breath, perhaps out of fear she would spook the creature, but she had no choice but to exhale. She did so with utmost care, though she was well away from the deer, and, if her smell had not spooked it she presumed a little breath would be harmless. But it was such a rare experience Ebbe was not willing to risk it even for a breath. She was trying to guess what the young deer could be battling. Her guess would be either a frog, toad or spider. Again the deer stepped forward. Ebbe admired it's dark brown, almost black winter coat. From her perspective she couldn't discern any antlers, but that may be because of it's young age or just the distance between them. Ebbe was sure they only had very small antlers, but she couldn't remember. Something spooked the animal and it's sharp little head bobbed up and Ebbe could see the bulging black eyes, like river polished stones, peering in her direction. Again she found herself holding her breath, sure it wasn't her who had caught it's attention. She strained hard, also trying to listen, and yes, somewhere is the distance she too could hear voices from behind. Laughter and chatter somewhere far in some distant part of the wood, bounced from vast trunk to trunk until Ebbe had no idea where the origin was. Her little Roe seemed more sure, however, and with a kick of it's hind legs it vanished from sight.
Ebbe waited, staring at the same spot, in the vain hope it would return. But she knew it had been spooked and regardless of it's small, unseen foe, it was not going to come back so readily.
With another heavy sigh she continued on her well trodden path to the observatory, giving a quick glance all around to ensure the voices really were somewhere distant. Unable to make out anything or anyone nearby she crunched and cracked her way back to the barely visible concrete entrance. It was a simple concrete structure shrouded in creepers and vines. In the centre was a rusting metal door that to an outsider looked as if it hadn't been opened since World War Two, when the former bomb shelter was built. They would, of course, be right. Ebbe took a swift turn to the left and made her way to the side of the structure, draped like a green waterfall, with lush vines. Here Ebbe stood waiting patiently, staring at the dark leaves. Hunter green Ebbe thought as she stared at one thinly veined leaf in particular. Makes sense, she concluded, hunter green would be the one that best serves as camouflage for those sneaking about in such a forest.
Growing impatient Ebbe gave a low cough, more a clearing of her throat and shifted her weight. The formerly warm cups were starting to feel decidedly tepid in her hands are her unexpected interlude. Never mind, it's bad hot or warm, she told herself.
Clunk! The sound of a solid bolt being lifted and then a squeal as the metal slid out from the catch and released. The draped foliage began to shiver before being swept aside and an opening became evident. A young man dressed in fatigues was grinning apologetically as he held the door open.
"I think I saw a Roe deer," Ebbe said as she stepped through the entrance gratefully, glad to feel the heat envelope her as she did so. The lad shrugged as he always did when Ebbe said pretty much anything. She had concluded the extent of his knowledge was terrifyingly basic. Barely scraping secondary level, she thought. Either that or he knew but wasn't much for talking. Ebbe had yet to truly pin down this old little guard she had inherited. "Do they have Roe deer in this forest?" she persisted, in the small hope she may eventually stumble across something he was interested in discussing.
"Dunno," came the blunt answer behind her as he slammed the thick door shut again. The natural moonlight was cut off and they were in a tight corridor lit by yellow lights lining the walls.
"They do have antlers don't they?" Ebbe continued, no longer caring if he knew the answer or not, but wanting to say something out loud to someone. Even though she was ahead of him, she knew he had simply shrugged, clearly not feeling the need to answer. "It was adorable," Ebbe finished, sensing she was pushing her luck.
"I like deer," came the unexpected reply.
Ebbe stopped abruptly, to be immediately bumped by the young lad who had not expected her to halt so suddenly. She maintained her balance, steadying the sloshing liquid in the coffee cups. She turned, beaming from ear to ear.
"James! What did you say?"
The bewildered lad stared at her mouth agape.
"I. I like deer?" He stuttered, obviously a little taken aback.
"That's simply marvellous my boy! Truly wonderful," she beamed at him before turning tail and striding down the corridor, humming The Girl From Ipanema quietly.
The pair emerged into a cavernous room, in the centre of which was a vast telescope, stretching from a small chair and expanding until it reached a cathedral-like dome, with a large split down its centre.
"Hello sweetie," Ebbe chirped, "James likes deer! Did you know that?" As she chattered to the equipment she turned and thrust out one of the cups. The still baffled James tentatively took the coffee and with a sideways glance made his way over to the CCTV desk on the far right. Ebbe smiled and popped the lid from her cup and swigged the coffee down in two big gulps. "Yuck!" She spat with a mix of disgust for the taste and satisfaction at the warmth.
James seated himself and sipped his own cup, eyeing Ebbe with suspicion, seemingly cautious of what she may say next.
"Let's crank the old girl open and check which stars are still with us eh James?" Ebbe shouted across the room.
James shrugged, as he always did.
"I'll tell you what I love James!" Ebbe shouted as she pressed the button that started the domes opening mechanism with a creaking gasp. "I love an 8.1 metre aperture pointing at Io, Callisto, Ganymede and Europa!" With that she took her seat at the eye of the telescope and peered through. Occasionally she cranked the mechanism to make the scope turn left or right, lower or raise. But once her eye was pressed up against the viewer she was, as always lost in a cosmos of stars, watched silently by her curious guard.
"Hello Ganymede," Ebbe suddenly piped up, making James jump. She turned with a cheeky grin and jabbed a longer finger at him. "That's you!" She exclaimed, before turning back to peer through the lens again. "Ganymede was one of Zeus' lovers, boy of exquisite beauty," she continued as she studied the small dot that was the largest moon in our Solar System. "He was kidnapped by Zeus to serve as a cup-bearer in Olympus," said Ebbe, unable to stop herself elaborating, "of course Hera was deathly jealous. But that was just Hera!" Silly cow, Ebbe thought to herself. "It's nice, us having this chat," Ebbe started, well aware that James wasn't contributing, but somehow feeling like his blurted revelation that he liked deer was the closest to a conversation the pair had had. The source that had gained her access to this facility, a place that theoretically didn't exist, had assured her he was perfect for the job. He was too dim, they had said, to know she didn't belong, and too green to be involved with anyone she wanted to avoid. That was for sure. The kid was wet behind the ears and she honestly felt he was unsuited to a military life. She had decided early on his father was in the forces and had bullied him into service. But that didn't matter, he just had to let her in and let her out and keep his mouth shut. It seemed he could follow orders, that was one thing most certainly in his favour. Ebbe just hoped that one day someone wouldn't take advantage of that.
"So Ganymede," she started, taking her eye off the skies, "how is it that I, Zeus, have to bear cups for my cup-bearer?" She eyed him with a smile, wondering if anything she had just said had meant a thing to him. He was looking back at her, his face the picture of concentration; brow furrowed, mouth pursed.
"Because I am Zeus and you are Hera?" Came the cautious reply.
Ebbe mulled this over in her mind. The boy was the mighty Zeus, God of the skies, the greatest of all the Olympians, and she his long-suffering, eternally jealous wife, and sister, Hera! She looked at the skinny little lad slouched at the security desk and couldn't help but burst out laughing. Within seconds James had been infected by her heaving gasps of uncontrolled laughter and joined in with her.
"You're a funny guy," Ebbe managed to gurgle, not really thinking he was and not entirely sure what was so funny, but still unable to halt the shaking laughter nevertheless. "You should talk more often," she spluttered, sending them both into further fits of cackling giggles.
Making an effort to maintain dignity Ebbe wiped her teared eyes and sighed. Back to work you idiot, she told herself, forcing a moist eye up against the the viewer. With great effort she ignored James, still attempting to quash his mirth behind her. Deciding viewing Ganymede was not going to help her sober up Ebbe began to shift the telescope in the hunt for another Galilean moon, namely Callisto.
"And there..." she began, "you are?" she ended on a question. All humour drained from her face and Ebbe pulled her head away from the telescope and turned to James. "I've lost a moon," she said seriously.
"That was careless," James snickered in reply.
"No James, it's insane, quite quite insane," she countered bleakly. Her heavy tone quickly sunk in and James forced out the last chuckle.
"Are you sure you're looking in...?" He started.
"Of course I bloody am," Ebbe snapped, cutting his sentence short. Inside she was churning. She pressed her forefinger down on an unseen button and to the side a printer began to buzz and whirr. Within a few seconds and crystal clear printout emerged and Ebbe tore it out from the printer impatiently. With an incisive eye she peered at the printout, before exhaling loudly. Even with her own, limited equipment, she had started picking up anomalies. One or two you could write off as the mind playing tricks. Three or four, equipment failure. But once she had gone beyond that she had hit upon the idea of using something more substantial. The Spartan Observatory complex, a highly secret outpost hidden within a restricted wildlife preserve, was her number one choice. It merely took the right connections, and Ebbe had made a habit of collecting those.
And here it was, the most powerful telescope in the United Kingdom could not see the third largest moon in the solar system.
"James, if anybody knows we are here. If anybody knows what I have seen. We are going to be in serious of trouble."
James returned her statement with a looked of fear and puzzlement. Ebbe gestured he ought to come closer. Tentatively he stood, his chair squealing on the flagstone floor. Again she gestured for him to come forward. She could see he was uncomfortable and uncertain. Again, she wordlessly gestured to him to come to her. With the awkward shuffling of a teenager asked to dance with a girl he likes, he made his way to her. When he was within grasping distance she grabbed him by the nape of the neck and pulled him close.
"You tell the man who got you this job that Callisto is awol. Tell him I'm going to ground. Are you getting this?" James nodded nervously, "Tell him I expect it will take them two or three months, four at most, so that's his time frame. You got that James?" She peered into his dark brown eyes. Yes, he's an orders boy, give him orders and he'll respond. He obviously got that from his bully father, for better or worse. "I don't think we shall see each other again after tonight, so Ganymede, get yourself some balls, before Zeus comes for you." With those parting words Ebbe grabbed her printout, gave him a kiss on the cheek and made for the exit.
As she reached the corridor, she stopped and turned.
"If we do meet again, be sure you've grown a pair!" She shouted before striding into the corridor.
The crunch of the leaves and the snap of the bracken beneath her feet always made her smile. It seemed so much more agreeable to have sound and texture underfoot, rather than the insensitive solidity of a pavement. It was for this, more than the need for the bad coffee served by the café on the tiny viewing station up the path, that brought her out into the cold air. That and the need to escape the observatory for a couple of hours. Kielder Observatory was of course, not so far away and that had a magnificent telescope. It was even easily accessible by the public. But that was also the problem. What Ebbe wanted to look at, she wanted to look at without herself being observed, without the questions and the probing. People could never just let you be in such places. Besides, such places were bound to be watched. Ebbe had already sensed via the chatter on the usual paranoid websites that the government wasn't keen on anyone taking too much interest in the skies.
Ebbe suddenly froze on the spot. To the far right, up a small slope and in a tiny opening amongst the towering trunks disappearing into the dark heights above, was a petite deer. Ebbe suspected it was a Roe deer, probably not fully grown yet. She watched fascinated as it tentatively trotted towards something indiscernible on the ground. It dipped it's neck, legs still relatively straight and gave a curious sniff. Without warning the deer gave a scared jump backwards and turned to flee, before pausing and and slowly, perhaps bravely, turning back to face the mystery foe. Ebbe found she was holding her breath, perhaps out of fear she would spook the creature, but she had no choice but to exhale. She did so with utmost care, though she was well away from the deer, and, if her smell had not spooked it she presumed a little breath would be harmless. But it was such a rare experience Ebbe was not willing to risk it even for a breath. She was trying to guess what the young deer could be battling. Her guess would be either a frog, toad or spider. Again the deer stepped forward. Ebbe admired it's dark brown, almost black winter coat. From her perspective she couldn't discern any antlers, but that may be because of it's young age or just the distance between them. Ebbe was sure they only had very small antlers, but she couldn't remember. Something spooked the animal and it's sharp little head bobbed up and Ebbe could see the bulging black eyes, like river polished stones, peering in her direction. Again she found herself holding her breath, sure it wasn't her who had caught it's attention. She strained hard, also trying to listen, and yes, somewhere is the distance she too could hear voices from behind. Laughter and chatter somewhere far in some distant part of the wood, bounced from vast trunk to trunk until Ebbe had no idea where the origin was. Her little Roe seemed more sure, however, and with a kick of it's hind legs it vanished from sight.
Ebbe waited, staring at the same spot, in the vain hope it would return. But she knew it had been spooked and regardless of it's small, unseen foe, it was not going to come back so readily.
With another heavy sigh she continued on her well trodden path to the observatory, giving a quick glance all around to ensure the voices really were somewhere distant. Unable to make out anything or anyone nearby she crunched and cracked her way back to the barely visible concrete entrance. It was a simple concrete structure shrouded in creepers and vines. In the centre was a rusting metal door that to an outsider looked as if it hadn't been opened since World War Two, when the former bomb shelter was built. They would, of course, be right. Ebbe took a swift turn to the left and made her way to the side of the structure, draped like a green waterfall, with lush vines. Here Ebbe stood waiting patiently, staring at the dark leaves. Hunter green Ebbe thought as she stared at one thinly veined leaf in particular. Makes sense, she concluded, hunter green would be the one that best serves as camouflage for those sneaking about in such a forest.
Growing impatient Ebbe gave a low cough, more a clearing of her throat and shifted her weight. The formerly warm cups were starting to feel decidedly tepid in her hands are her unexpected interlude. Never mind, it's bad hot or warm, she told herself.
Clunk! The sound of a solid bolt being lifted and then a squeal as the metal slid out from the catch and released. The draped foliage began to shiver before being swept aside and an opening became evident. A young man dressed in fatigues was grinning apologetically as he held the door open.
"I think I saw a Roe deer," Ebbe said as she stepped through the entrance gratefully, glad to feel the heat envelope her as she did so. The lad shrugged as he always did when Ebbe said pretty much anything. She had concluded the extent of his knowledge was terrifyingly basic. Barely scraping secondary level, she thought. Either that or he knew but wasn't much for talking. Ebbe had yet to truly pin down this old little guard she had inherited. "Do they have Roe deer in this forest?" she persisted, in the small hope she may eventually stumble across something he was interested in discussing.
"Dunno," came the blunt answer behind her as he slammed the thick door shut again. The natural moonlight was cut off and they were in a tight corridor lit by yellow lights lining the walls.
"They do have antlers don't they?" Ebbe continued, no longer caring if he knew the answer or not, but wanting to say something out loud to someone. Even though she was ahead of him, she knew he had simply shrugged, clearly not feeling the need to answer. "It was adorable," Ebbe finished, sensing she was pushing her luck.
"I like deer," came the unexpected reply.
Ebbe stopped abruptly, to be immediately bumped by the young lad who had not expected her to halt so suddenly. She maintained her balance, steadying the sloshing liquid in the coffee cups. She turned, beaming from ear to ear.
"James! What did you say?"
The bewildered lad stared at her mouth agape.
"I. I like deer?" He stuttered, obviously a little taken aback.
"That's simply marvellous my boy! Truly wonderful," she beamed at him before turning tail and striding down the corridor, humming The Girl From Ipanema quietly.
The pair emerged into a cavernous room, in the centre of which was a vast telescope, stretching from a small chair and expanding until it reached a cathedral-like dome, with a large split down its centre.
"Hello sweetie," Ebbe chirped, "James likes deer! Did you know that?" As she chattered to the equipment she turned and thrust out one of the cups. The still baffled James tentatively took the coffee and with a sideways glance made his way over to the CCTV desk on the far right. Ebbe smiled and popped the lid from her cup and swigged the coffee down in two big gulps. "Yuck!" She spat with a mix of disgust for the taste and satisfaction at the warmth.
James seated himself and sipped his own cup, eyeing Ebbe with suspicion, seemingly cautious of what she may say next.
"Let's crank the old girl open and check which stars are still with us eh James?" Ebbe shouted across the room.
James shrugged, as he always did.
"I'll tell you what I love James!" Ebbe shouted as she pressed the button that started the domes opening mechanism with a creaking gasp. "I love an 8.1 metre aperture pointing at Io, Callisto, Ganymede and Europa!" With that she took her seat at the eye of the telescope and peered through. Occasionally she cranked the mechanism to make the scope turn left or right, lower or raise. But once her eye was pressed up against the viewer she was, as always lost in a cosmos of stars, watched silently by her curious guard.
"Hello Ganymede," Ebbe suddenly piped up, making James jump. She turned with a cheeky grin and jabbed a longer finger at him. "That's you!" She exclaimed, before turning back to peer through the lens again. "Ganymede was one of Zeus' lovers, boy of exquisite beauty," she continued as she studied the small dot that was the largest moon in our Solar System. "He was kidnapped by Zeus to serve as a cup-bearer in Olympus," said Ebbe, unable to stop herself elaborating, "of course Hera was deathly jealous. But that was just Hera!" Silly cow, Ebbe thought to herself. "It's nice, us having this chat," Ebbe started, well aware that James wasn't contributing, but somehow feeling like his blurted revelation that he liked deer was the closest to a conversation the pair had had. The source that had gained her access to this facility, a place that theoretically didn't exist, had assured her he was perfect for the job. He was too dim, they had said, to know she didn't belong, and too green to be involved with anyone she wanted to avoid. That was for sure. The kid was wet behind the ears and she honestly felt he was unsuited to a military life. She had decided early on his father was in the forces and had bullied him into service. But that didn't matter, he just had to let her in and let her out and keep his mouth shut. It seemed he could follow orders, that was one thing most certainly in his favour. Ebbe just hoped that one day someone wouldn't take advantage of that.
"So Ganymede," she started, taking her eye off the skies, "how is it that I, Zeus, have to bear cups for my cup-bearer?" She eyed him with a smile, wondering if anything she had just said had meant a thing to him. He was looking back at her, his face the picture of concentration; brow furrowed, mouth pursed.
"Because I am Zeus and you are Hera?" Came the cautious reply.
Ebbe mulled this over in her mind. The boy was the mighty Zeus, God of the skies, the greatest of all the Olympians, and she his long-suffering, eternally jealous wife, and sister, Hera! She looked at the skinny little lad slouched at the security desk and couldn't help but burst out laughing. Within seconds James had been infected by her heaving gasps of uncontrolled laughter and joined in with her.
"You're a funny guy," Ebbe managed to gurgle, not really thinking he was and not entirely sure what was so funny, but still unable to halt the shaking laughter nevertheless. "You should talk more often," she spluttered, sending them both into further fits of cackling giggles.
Making an effort to maintain dignity Ebbe wiped her teared eyes and sighed. Back to work you idiot, she told herself, forcing a moist eye up against the the viewer. With great effort she ignored James, still attempting to quash his mirth behind her. Deciding viewing Ganymede was not going to help her sober up Ebbe began to shift the telescope in the hunt for another Galilean moon, namely Callisto.
"And there..." she began, "you are?" she ended on a question. All humour drained from her face and Ebbe pulled her head away from the telescope and turned to James. "I've lost a moon," she said seriously.
"That was careless," James snickered in reply.
"No James, it's insane, quite quite insane," she countered bleakly. Her heavy tone quickly sunk in and James forced out the last chuckle.
"Are you sure you're looking in...?" He started.
"Of course I bloody am," Ebbe snapped, cutting his sentence short. Inside she was churning. She pressed her forefinger down on an unseen button and to the side a printer began to buzz and whirr. Within a few seconds and crystal clear printout emerged and Ebbe tore it out from the printer impatiently. With an incisive eye she peered at the printout, before exhaling loudly. Even with her own, limited equipment, she had started picking up anomalies. One or two you could write off as the mind playing tricks. Three or four, equipment failure. But once she had gone beyond that she had hit upon the idea of using something more substantial. The Spartan Observatory complex, a highly secret outpost hidden within a restricted wildlife preserve, was her number one choice. It merely took the right connections, and Ebbe had made a habit of collecting those.
And here it was, the most powerful telescope in the United Kingdom could not see the third largest moon in the solar system.
"James, if anybody knows we are here. If anybody knows what I have seen. We are going to be in serious of trouble."
James returned her statement with a looked of fear and puzzlement. Ebbe gestured he ought to come closer. Tentatively he stood, his chair squealing on the flagstone floor. Again she gestured for him to come forward. She could see he was uncomfortable and uncertain. Again, she wordlessly gestured to him to come to her. With the awkward shuffling of a teenager asked to dance with a girl he likes, he made his way to her. When he was within grasping distance she grabbed him by the nape of the neck and pulled him close.
"You tell the man who got you this job that Callisto is awol. Tell him I'm going to ground. Are you getting this?" James nodded nervously, "Tell him I expect it will take them two or three months, four at most, so that's his time frame. You got that James?" She peered into his dark brown eyes. Yes, he's an orders boy, give him orders and he'll respond. He obviously got that from his bully father, for better or worse. "I don't think we shall see each other again after tonight, so Ganymede, get yourself some balls, before Zeus comes for you." With those parting words Ebbe grabbed her printout, gave him a kiss on the cheek and made for the exit.
As she reached the corridor, she stopped and turned.
"If we do meet again, be sure you've grown a pair!" She shouted before striding into the corridor.
Saturday, 2 June 2012
Chapter 7 - Part 2
A note from the author:
I'm very sorry for the delay in writing further instalments of As Bright as The Fading Ark. This is because I have been very busy working on the launch of my debut novel Clara Bow and the Seal of Solomon. I have now got this launch off the ground, with copies available from Lulu, on Kindle and from Smashwords, full details can be found at the official Clara Bow website and on the Clara Bow Facebook page. My aim will be to write a couple of catch up entries here by the 5th of June, so be sure to check back soon!
Several strip lights flashed and flickered, making a low humming noise as they struggled to commit to their task. Despite the sudden switch from dark to light, Ebbe did her best not to blink or flinch as the room around her was revealed.
The stairs she had almost tumbled down were to the left. They were much as you would expect in an ageing farmhouse; uneven stone slabs with no hand rail, leading to a dirt floor. At the base of the steps, Grim Reaper was out cold and Shakes was sitting on the second but last stone slab, his head down. Moon Face was still strapped to the stretcher and was lying, seemingly unharmed to the side of the steps. Immediately Ebbe knew Shakes was not who he had led everyone to believe he was. He had fooled, her, no mean feat, he had even fooled Anthony.
Pushing aside these concerns for a moment, Ebbe allowed herself a quick sweep of the remaining space. The basement walls were simple brickwork, brown with age and disintegrating in various places. The dirt floor had once been covered with carpet, but this had long rotted away, leaving only tatty remnants so muddied that it was impossible to discern a pattern. The young man who had presumably been her captor was standing to the right of the room, dressed in dark combat fatigues, a standard issue Light Support Weapon slung across his shoulder. His head was shaved bald, but Ebbe could see this had been done a few days ago now, because fresh stubble was starting to emerge. His dark brown eyes were viewing her with intense curiosity. Before she could speak Shakes lifted his head and directed a question to the young man.
"Why did you do that, you moron?" He spat venomously, sounding nothing like the scared and skittish young man from earlier. "Jesus, all you had to do was knock her out. One little lady too much for you?"
The young man seemed transfixed by Ebbe and didn't acknowledge Shakes.
"Sergeant, I'm talking to you," Shakes spat, standing and, much to Ebbe's horror, striding her way, rather than the young soldier. His face was not scowling, nor angry. It was the picture of calm and serenity and that scared the living daylights out of Ebbe. That was the face of a sociopath. She pondered making a move, but instinctively knew there was nowhere to go and even if there was she would not be quick enough. After all, he had clearly subdued Grim Reaper silently, and she assumed that was no mean feat. Her only calming thought was that he clearly didn't intend to kill her, else he would have done so already. In a split second he was across the room and his rough hand was gripping the soft flesh of her throat and quickly she felt her senses fading. "You can't rely on anyone these days," she vaguely heard Shakes say before the crushing sensation became overwhelming and she sensed she was about to pass out.
Thwack!
The pressure vanished and with a gasp Ebbe stumbled backwards and fell to the floor, taking in deep breaths. Small white dots floated in her vision and she squeezed her eyelids tightly shut and shook her head, as if trying to toss the queasy sensation she was feeling aside. She was partially aware that the young soldier had somehow knocked Shakes to the floor and was now pointing his gun at him. Shakes was calmly nursing a bruised jaw.
Forcing herself up Ebbe felt a little disoriented, probably from a brief lack of oxygen. With all her effort she made her way back to the pair slowly, hoping the fuzz in her mind would clear before she got to them. She ran through the whole scenario in her mind, trying to clear up the inconsistencies. Chum had shoved them down here in expectation they would be safe. It was Anthony who had suggested they split up and Chum could have contrived some way to capture us that was easier than staging an apparent attack. It was more logical to assume the plan had been for Shakes to infiltrate whatever was down here. But what of James, for the young soldier was certainly James, his actions now proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt. If James was with Shakes, why the need for Shakes to infiltrate? Clearly they already have an inside man, maybe more. What could he bring that others couldn't? Her? Anthony? Something didn't add up. Everything that had happened since the attack at her own house was starting to seem a little contrived.
Ebbe looked down at Shakes, still feeling nervous, sure that if he really wanted to he could disarm James and kill them both before either knew what had happened. James was not a soldier, not like Anthony, Grim or Shakes anyway. He was too wet behind the ears. That's right! Of course, Ebbe realised, James was assigned because he's obviously harmless. Chum would have seen right through a long term infiltration by a trained professional.Just as Anthony would have seen through Shakes given enough time. But James, he's too harmless to be a threat. He was just the guy left here to let the others in, to prop the door open when the time was needed. But that still didn't answer why all the subterfuge, did they need her at all, or was she just a cog in a greater machine? An excuse to initiate an operation?
"James," she started, not letting her eyes of Shakes for a second, "take two paces back and aim the gun at his chest." James glanced at her from the corner of his eyes before nodding and stepping back and lowering his sights a little. Now there was less chance of Shakes disarming James.
"Interesting," Shakes said, a little glimmer of excitement in his eyes, "why the chest and not the head, may I ask?"
"He's more likely to hit something. And at that range that'll be plenty to stop you in your tracks," Ebbe replied.
Shakes smiled at this reply.
"Maybe so," he smirked, "you are a wily one Ebbe."
"You shot Moon, er, Art, on purpose didn't you?" Ebbe asked, hoping Shakes was in the mood to brag.
"You already know the answer to that," came the reply. True enough, Ebbe had already deduced that Shakes had shot Art, knowing Anthony would bring him to Krank.
"So Krank was the actual target all along?" She pressed.
Shakes just shrugged at this and instead turned his attention to James.
"Blah, blah. You think you're so smart don't you Ebbe? But you are just as scared as the rest of them aren't you?" As he spoke he was staring unnervingly at James.
"I know what happened four months ago," Ebbe replied defensively.
This seemed to get his attention away from James, who was clearly buckling under the pressure. Ebbe knew she was on a knife edge; James was on her side, for now. But he was going to be torn between her and what he believes are to be his orders. One must always follow ones orders in the army. James wasn't good at a lot of things, but following orders he could do. She had to keep him calm and keep him on her side.
"Do you now?" he said with arched eyebrows.
"I do, and I know that Krank is the only one who can access whatever is hidden beneath this house. I know that you shot Art to get to Krank. The plan was to give him no choice but to access this place. And when he did, you were going to kill him." Ebbe didn't really know any of that. It was pure supposition. But she had learned that when guilty parties were presented with guesses as fact, they either unwittingly confirmed it, or gave away the actual truth. It was usually down to their ego.
"That sounds like a fascinating tale. When's the film coming out?" Shakes replied sarcastically. Sarcasm usually meant it was true.
"But it won't work," Ebbe persisted.
"What a pity," Shakes continued in his sarcastic tone.
"And I'll tell you why."
"If you must," Shakes huffed, sounding genuinely fed up with the conversation now.
"Because Anthony is no fool," Ebbe finished with a hint of a smile in the corner of her mouth.
"Oh really?" Shakes spat back, "fool enough to believe I was just a dumb rookie. Fool enough to get his best friend shot in the head. Fool enough to lead me straight to this place. Fool enough to be caught unawares by this attack. No fool you say? Ha!"
At last, his ego had got the better of him! That confirmed it. The whole damn thing had been a set up from the word go. Ebbe was never the target, maybe her disappearance would be an added bonus, but the real prize was Krank and whatever it was that he was protecting. The terrible events of four months ago had led to this point and it all pointed to Chum, to Krank, he was the key to the whole mystery.
As that very thought was forming in her mind, the sound of stone scraping against stone made Ebbe look to the stairs. She turned, only to see the limp body of Chum being tossed down the steps unceremoniously. His heavy body landed with a horrendous thud on the dirt flooring and didn't move.
I'm very sorry for the delay in writing further instalments of As Bright as The Fading Ark. This is because I have been very busy working on the launch of my debut novel Clara Bow and the Seal of Solomon. I have now got this launch off the ground, with copies available from Lulu, on Kindle and from Smashwords, full details can be found at the official Clara Bow website and on the Clara Bow Facebook page. My aim will be to write a couple of catch up entries here by the 5th of June, so be sure to check back soon!
Chapter 7 - Part 2
Several strip lights flashed and flickered, making a low humming noise as they struggled to commit to their task. Despite the sudden switch from dark to light, Ebbe did her best not to blink or flinch as the room around her was revealed.
The stairs she had almost tumbled down were to the left. They were much as you would expect in an ageing farmhouse; uneven stone slabs with no hand rail, leading to a dirt floor. At the base of the steps, Grim Reaper was out cold and Shakes was sitting on the second but last stone slab, his head down. Moon Face was still strapped to the stretcher and was lying, seemingly unharmed to the side of the steps. Immediately Ebbe knew Shakes was not who he had led everyone to believe he was. He had fooled, her, no mean feat, he had even fooled Anthony.
Pushing aside these concerns for a moment, Ebbe allowed herself a quick sweep of the remaining space. The basement walls were simple brickwork, brown with age and disintegrating in various places. The dirt floor had once been covered with carpet, but this had long rotted away, leaving only tatty remnants so muddied that it was impossible to discern a pattern. The young man who had presumably been her captor was standing to the right of the room, dressed in dark combat fatigues, a standard issue Light Support Weapon slung across his shoulder. His head was shaved bald, but Ebbe could see this had been done a few days ago now, because fresh stubble was starting to emerge. His dark brown eyes were viewing her with intense curiosity. Before she could speak Shakes lifted his head and directed a question to the young man.
"Why did you do that, you moron?" He spat venomously, sounding nothing like the scared and skittish young man from earlier. "Jesus, all you had to do was knock her out. One little lady too much for you?"
The young man seemed transfixed by Ebbe and didn't acknowledge Shakes.
"Sergeant, I'm talking to you," Shakes spat, standing and, much to Ebbe's horror, striding her way, rather than the young soldier. His face was not scowling, nor angry. It was the picture of calm and serenity and that scared the living daylights out of Ebbe. That was the face of a sociopath. She pondered making a move, but instinctively knew there was nowhere to go and even if there was she would not be quick enough. After all, he had clearly subdued Grim Reaper silently, and she assumed that was no mean feat. Her only calming thought was that he clearly didn't intend to kill her, else he would have done so already. In a split second he was across the room and his rough hand was gripping the soft flesh of her throat and quickly she felt her senses fading. "You can't rely on anyone these days," she vaguely heard Shakes say before the crushing sensation became overwhelming and she sensed she was about to pass out.
Thwack!
The pressure vanished and with a gasp Ebbe stumbled backwards and fell to the floor, taking in deep breaths. Small white dots floated in her vision and she squeezed her eyelids tightly shut and shook her head, as if trying to toss the queasy sensation she was feeling aside. She was partially aware that the young soldier had somehow knocked Shakes to the floor and was now pointing his gun at him. Shakes was calmly nursing a bruised jaw.
Forcing herself up Ebbe felt a little disoriented, probably from a brief lack of oxygen. With all her effort she made her way back to the pair slowly, hoping the fuzz in her mind would clear before she got to them. She ran through the whole scenario in her mind, trying to clear up the inconsistencies. Chum had shoved them down here in expectation they would be safe. It was Anthony who had suggested they split up and Chum could have contrived some way to capture us that was easier than staging an apparent attack. It was more logical to assume the plan had been for Shakes to infiltrate whatever was down here. But what of James, for the young soldier was certainly James, his actions now proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt. If James was with Shakes, why the need for Shakes to infiltrate? Clearly they already have an inside man, maybe more. What could he bring that others couldn't? Her? Anthony? Something didn't add up. Everything that had happened since the attack at her own house was starting to seem a little contrived.
Ebbe looked down at Shakes, still feeling nervous, sure that if he really wanted to he could disarm James and kill them both before either knew what had happened. James was not a soldier, not like Anthony, Grim or Shakes anyway. He was too wet behind the ears. That's right! Of course, Ebbe realised, James was assigned because he's obviously harmless. Chum would have seen right through a long term infiltration by a trained professional.Just as Anthony would have seen through Shakes given enough time. But James, he's too harmless to be a threat. He was just the guy left here to let the others in, to prop the door open when the time was needed. But that still didn't answer why all the subterfuge, did they need her at all, or was she just a cog in a greater machine? An excuse to initiate an operation?
"James," she started, not letting her eyes of Shakes for a second, "take two paces back and aim the gun at his chest." James glanced at her from the corner of his eyes before nodding and stepping back and lowering his sights a little. Now there was less chance of Shakes disarming James.
"Interesting," Shakes said, a little glimmer of excitement in his eyes, "why the chest and not the head, may I ask?"
"He's more likely to hit something. And at that range that'll be plenty to stop you in your tracks," Ebbe replied.
Shakes smiled at this reply.
"Maybe so," he smirked, "you are a wily one Ebbe."
"You shot Moon, er, Art, on purpose didn't you?" Ebbe asked, hoping Shakes was in the mood to brag.
"You already know the answer to that," came the reply. True enough, Ebbe had already deduced that Shakes had shot Art, knowing Anthony would bring him to Krank.
"So Krank was the actual target all along?" She pressed.
Shakes just shrugged at this and instead turned his attention to James.
"Blah, blah. You think you're so smart don't you Ebbe? But you are just as scared as the rest of them aren't you?" As he spoke he was staring unnervingly at James.
"I know what happened four months ago," Ebbe replied defensively.
This seemed to get his attention away from James, who was clearly buckling under the pressure. Ebbe knew she was on a knife edge; James was on her side, for now. But he was going to be torn between her and what he believes are to be his orders. One must always follow ones orders in the army. James wasn't good at a lot of things, but following orders he could do. She had to keep him calm and keep him on her side.
"Do you now?" he said with arched eyebrows.
"I do, and I know that Krank is the only one who can access whatever is hidden beneath this house. I know that you shot Art to get to Krank. The plan was to give him no choice but to access this place. And when he did, you were going to kill him." Ebbe didn't really know any of that. It was pure supposition. But she had learned that when guilty parties were presented with guesses as fact, they either unwittingly confirmed it, or gave away the actual truth. It was usually down to their ego.
"That sounds like a fascinating tale. When's the film coming out?" Shakes replied sarcastically. Sarcasm usually meant it was true.
"But it won't work," Ebbe persisted.
"What a pity," Shakes continued in his sarcastic tone.
"And I'll tell you why."
"If you must," Shakes huffed, sounding genuinely fed up with the conversation now.
"Because Anthony is no fool," Ebbe finished with a hint of a smile in the corner of her mouth.
"Oh really?" Shakes spat back, "fool enough to believe I was just a dumb rookie. Fool enough to get his best friend shot in the head. Fool enough to lead me straight to this place. Fool enough to be caught unawares by this attack. No fool you say? Ha!"
At last, his ego had got the better of him! That confirmed it. The whole damn thing had been a set up from the word go. Ebbe was never the target, maybe her disappearance would be an added bonus, but the real prize was Krank and whatever it was that he was protecting. The terrible events of four months ago had led to this point and it all pointed to Chum, to Krank, he was the key to the whole mystery.
As that very thought was forming in her mind, the sound of stone scraping against stone made Ebbe look to the stairs. She turned, only to see the limp body of Chum being tossed down the steps unceremoniously. His heavy body landed with a horrendous thud on the dirt flooring and didn't move.
Wednesday, 16 May 2012
Chapter 7 - Part 1
"Best I can do is shoot
the poor bastard up with so much morphine he'll never wake up again," said Krank grimly.
"Not good enough Krank. I know you have a team here...." Anthony hissed back under his breath, losing patience.
Before Krank could respond Ebbe clicked her fingers at them loudly. Anthony instantly knew something was wrong.
"Why's that bitch clicking her..." Krank had started. In a split second Anthony thrust an elbow into Krank's chin, making a satisfying crack sound as it connected. Krank had made the mistake of think of Ebbe as an ordinary civi. If she wanted to to shut up, there was a damn good reason. Maybe it was that, or was my reaction because he called her a bitch? Anthony wasn't sure himself.
"Whatever you've been staring out this window waiting for, for the past four months, has just arrived," Ebbe hissed urgently, her face ashen with worry.
"How do you...?" Chum began to speak, rubbing his jaw.
"She just does. Exit options?" Anthony interrupted in exasperation.
Krank nodded downward and Anthony replied with an acknowledging nod. He knew all along there was more here than a run down farm house. 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 barked making sure to keep his volume down and use the bass in his voice to project authority.
Krank ushered the group out of the room and into the hallway, leaving Anthony alone. For a second he wanted to turn and watch Ebbe as she left, but he fought the urge, instead striding up to the monitors Ebbe had been focused on. He peered at it, not because he didn't trust her judgement, but because he hoped to discern the numbers outside. His eyes flicked to the front window and back to the monitor.
He heard Krank return from the hallway, doing his best to disguise his heavy footsteps upon the floorboards.
"At least seven men. Light arms, semi-auto I'd guess. Four at the rear, three at the front," Anthony said without turning, still watching the screens. His eyes interpreted the evidence in a flash; a branch swaying where there was no wind, a bird fleeing the bushes, a shadow where there should be none, a wet spot on an otherwise dry path, grass depressed more in one spot than another and no obvious signs of a vehicle nearby. "There here for you, not me, aren't they?" Anthony asked as he finally turned his back on the screen and squared up to Krank.
Krank simply nodded and tossed a Light Support Weapon across to Anthony, who caught it, checked the clip and gestured to Krank to toss him some spare ones. Krank obliged by flinging a small backpack across. Anthony took a peek inside.
"Jesus mate, you planning on starting a war?"
Krank just grinned and loaded his shotgun.
"You stop 'em getting close. But if you fuck up, I'll take care of it!" Krank boomed, patting his gun lovingly.
"The rear?" Anthony quizzed, assuming Krank had it covered.
"Wall of iron mate. Unless they brought a tank, the front is their only option," he paused and peered at the monitor, "they didn't bring a tank did they?"
Anthony shook his head and crept swiftly across the room and propped his gun up against the window. He peered through the optical sight, sweeping the open ground. He could see why Krank picked this house. With the rear blocked, anyone attacking had no choice but to move in from the front. The front drive was wide open in all directions, with flat expanses of fields in all directions. The only cover were the thin stretches of thicket that bordered the drive. He focused his sights on the Land Rover, its hood and engine shattered by Krank's earlier assault upon it. No way we're getting out in that thing.
There! A shadow peeked out from beneath the vehicle. Logical, it was currently the best cover in the exposed drive. The next question, fire first, or wait to see what their intentions were? Shit, if their intentions were to make contact, they would have done so by now. This was a Goddamn assassination squad. I probably trained these arseholes, Anthony reflected. He turned and glanced at Krank, also propped against the opposite window, sweeping his oversize shotgun left and right. I should have kept Jake up here with me, Anthony thought.
Thwack! Something whistled through the window, making a half inch hole just to the right of Anthony's head.
"Holy shit!" Anthony exclaimed. "Sniper!" he whispered loudly to Krank. Did he miss on purpose? Anthony asked himself. An agency sniper would have sent that bullet right between my eyes if he'd wanted to. What are they playing at? They want us to retreat? Yes, that's it, they actually want us to go into a siege mentality and retreat to whatever Krank has hidden beneath this house.
Anthony sank down and turned to Krank.
"This isn't their first attempt is it?" he asked, not bothering to keep his voice down, they knew they were here now, that was obvious. Krank shook his head. "They agency?"
"Mate, I don't know," Krank shrugged, "two months back I shot three of 'em, but the others took the bodies away and fled. Alls I know, they want in, and they ain't getting in!"
"They must have been watching the house all along. Fuck! As soon as they saw us arrive they attacked. They knew you had company! They figured that meant you'd be a softer target" Anthony cursed. "Look mate, they aren't going to knock on the door. That sniper missed me on purpose. They want us to retreat, so they can follow."
"Balls, that doesn't make any sense," Krank spat, "why not just shoot us both, walk in, happy as Larry, and rip the house apart?"
"They obviously know they won't work," Anthony retorted, "let me guess, you got IQ biometrics down there?"
Krank nodded.
"So without you alive and well, no access, right? I mean, that shit knows if you're drugged, wounded, or under pressure."
"Yeah, but how can they know that?" Krank replied.
"That's the question. They clearly know you well enough to know they can't force you to open the door. They clearly know you haven't got enough supplies above ground to survive a long term siege. They also must know what you have down there."
Krank shook his head vigorously.
"No fucker has a clue what's down there mate, trust me. Not the agency, not the government, just me and God."
Anthony closed his eyes tightly and cleared his mind. He focused upon his internal abyss, thinking of nothing, seeing nothing, hearing nothing. No more questions. No more mysteries. Ebbe, the moon, the sun, Art, Krank, the agency, the attackers, all melted away. All that was left was the enveloping darkness. Peace shrouded in darkness.
His eyes opened with a start.
"There's only one answer," Anthony stated calmly.
"Oh yeah? Chinese takeaway?" Krank replied sarcastically.
"I'll tell you later. First we gotta play along. Shoot some shit!"
"Now you're talking my language!" Krank boomed enthusiastically,
"I'll lay down a suppressing fire across the drive, you aim at anything that tries to run for cover," Anthony said calmly as he lifted his gun sight and aimed at the Land Rover. "Sorry, old girl," he whispered to the shredded vehicle, before opening fire and tearing new holes across it's side.
Rattatatata. His gun fired hard and fast, penetrating the Land Rover and sending shards of shattered glass raining to the gravel below.
Boom. Krank released a round from his shotgun. The sound seemed distant to Anthony, as if it were an echo in a canyon. The crack, crack sound of his own weapon was deafening. A brief interlude to load a new clip left the usual ringing in his ears, something he had long learned to disregard. He pressed his right eye up to the sight again and swept the surroundings. Spotting movement in the bushes to the left, he sent a sweeping shower of bullets in that direction. He wasn't really trying to kill anyone, but it had to look good, otherwise they'd know something was wrong. Anthony was hoping to speak to one of the attackers, to confirm his suspicions. There was no way this was coincidence he had decided. Everything since he had been hand-picked for the Ebbe job was starting to come off like a set-up, right up to this attack on the farmhouse. Some bastard in a five thousand quid suit was playing God. That pissed him off. He wanted to regain control. And that would start right now.
Rattatatata. His gun shredded the foliage. A figure, shrouded in black, leaped from the bushes and scrambled frantically for cover. Boom. Krank let off a round in their direction. The spray of shot caught them in their right leg, lacerating the flesh from bone and sending them tumbling to the gravel. Before Krank could let off another round, three previously hidden figures appeared and opened fire. The bullets smashed through the window and ripped through the furnishings, sending splinters flying through the room. Krank and Anthony dove for cover, both covering their heads from the cascade of debris. Finally the firing relented and Anthony raised his gun above the window line and without looking, fired randomly in all directions.
He paused and turned to Krank.
"I think they believe we're serious," Anthony said calmy, as if nothing had happened.
"Whaddya mean 'believe'?" Krank retorted, also lifting his gun and blindly firing out of the shattered window.
"Like I said. There's only one answer to this," Anthony replied.
"Like you said," Krank agreed.
Anthony turned and pointed his gun at Krank.
"You'll have to die."
"Not good enough Krank. I know you have a team here...." Anthony hissed back under his breath, losing patience.
Before Krank could respond Ebbe clicked her fingers at them loudly. Anthony instantly knew something was wrong.
"Why's that bitch clicking her..." Krank had started. In a split second Anthony thrust an elbow into Krank's chin, making a satisfying crack sound as it connected. Krank had made the mistake of think of Ebbe as an ordinary civi. If she wanted to to shut up, there was a damn good reason. Maybe it was that, or was my reaction because he called her a bitch? Anthony wasn't sure himself.
"Whatever you've been staring out this window waiting for, for the past four months, has just arrived," Ebbe hissed urgently, her face ashen with worry.
"How do you...?" Chum began to speak, rubbing his jaw.
"She just does. Exit options?" Anthony interrupted in exasperation.
Krank nodded downward and Anthony replied with an acknowledging nod. He knew all along there was more here than a run down farm house. 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 barked making sure to keep his volume down and use the bass in his voice to project authority.
Krank ushered the group out of the room and into the hallway, leaving Anthony alone. For a second he wanted to turn and watch Ebbe as she left, but he fought the urge, instead striding up to the monitors Ebbe had been focused on. He peered at it, not because he didn't trust her judgement, but because he hoped to discern the numbers outside. His eyes flicked to the front window and back to the monitor.
He heard Krank return from the hallway, doing his best to disguise his heavy footsteps upon the floorboards.
"At least seven men. Light arms, semi-auto I'd guess. Four at the rear, three at the front," Anthony said without turning, still watching the screens. His eyes interpreted the evidence in a flash; a branch swaying where there was no wind, a bird fleeing the bushes, a shadow where there should be none, a wet spot on an otherwise dry path, grass depressed more in one spot than another and no obvious signs of a vehicle nearby. "There here for you, not me, aren't they?" Anthony asked as he finally turned his back on the screen and squared up to Krank.
Krank simply nodded and tossed a Light Support Weapon across to Anthony, who caught it, checked the clip and gestured to Krank to toss him some spare ones. Krank obliged by flinging a small backpack across. Anthony took a peek inside.
"Jesus mate, you planning on starting a war?"
Krank just grinned and loaded his shotgun.
"You stop 'em getting close. But if you fuck up, I'll take care of it!" Krank boomed, patting his gun lovingly.
"The rear?" Anthony quizzed, assuming Krank had it covered.
"Wall of iron mate. Unless they brought a tank, the front is their only option," he paused and peered at the monitor, "they didn't bring a tank did they?"
Anthony shook his head and crept swiftly across the room and propped his gun up against the window. He peered through the optical sight, sweeping the open ground. He could see why Krank picked this house. With the rear blocked, anyone attacking had no choice but to move in from the front. The front drive was wide open in all directions, with flat expanses of fields in all directions. The only cover were the thin stretches of thicket that bordered the drive. He focused his sights on the Land Rover, its hood and engine shattered by Krank's earlier assault upon it. No way we're getting out in that thing.
There! A shadow peeked out from beneath the vehicle. Logical, it was currently the best cover in the exposed drive. The next question, fire first, or wait to see what their intentions were? Shit, if their intentions were to make contact, they would have done so by now. This was a Goddamn assassination squad. I probably trained these arseholes, Anthony reflected. He turned and glanced at Krank, also propped against the opposite window, sweeping his oversize shotgun left and right. I should have kept Jake up here with me, Anthony thought.
Thwack! Something whistled through the window, making a half inch hole just to the right of Anthony's head.
"Holy shit!" Anthony exclaimed. "Sniper!" he whispered loudly to Krank. Did he miss on purpose? Anthony asked himself. An agency sniper would have sent that bullet right between my eyes if he'd wanted to. What are they playing at? They want us to retreat? Yes, that's it, they actually want us to go into a siege mentality and retreat to whatever Krank has hidden beneath this house.
Anthony sank down and turned to Krank.
"This isn't their first attempt is it?" he asked, not bothering to keep his voice down, they knew they were here now, that was obvious. Krank shook his head. "They agency?"
"Mate, I don't know," Krank shrugged, "two months back I shot three of 'em, but the others took the bodies away and fled. Alls I know, they want in, and they ain't getting in!"
"They must have been watching the house all along. Fuck! As soon as they saw us arrive they attacked. They knew you had company! They figured that meant you'd be a softer target" Anthony cursed. "Look mate, they aren't going to knock on the door. That sniper missed me on purpose. They want us to retreat, so they can follow."
"Balls, that doesn't make any sense," Krank spat, "why not just shoot us both, walk in, happy as Larry, and rip the house apart?"
"They obviously know they won't work," Anthony retorted, "let me guess, you got IQ biometrics down there?"
Krank nodded.
"So without you alive and well, no access, right? I mean, that shit knows if you're drugged, wounded, or under pressure."
"Yeah, but how can they know that?" Krank replied.
"That's the question. They clearly know you well enough to know they can't force you to open the door. They clearly know you haven't got enough supplies above ground to survive a long term siege. They also must know what you have down there."
Krank shook his head vigorously.
"No fucker has a clue what's down there mate, trust me. Not the agency, not the government, just me and God."
Anthony closed his eyes tightly and cleared his mind. He focused upon his internal abyss, thinking of nothing, seeing nothing, hearing nothing. No more questions. No more mysteries. Ebbe, the moon, the sun, Art, Krank, the agency, the attackers, all melted away. All that was left was the enveloping darkness. Peace shrouded in darkness.
His eyes opened with a start.
"There's only one answer," Anthony stated calmly.
"Oh yeah? Chinese takeaway?" Krank replied sarcastically.
"I'll tell you later. First we gotta play along. Shoot some shit!"
"Now you're talking my language!" Krank boomed enthusiastically,
"I'll lay down a suppressing fire across the drive, you aim at anything that tries to run for cover," Anthony said calmly as he lifted his gun sight and aimed at the Land Rover. "Sorry, old girl," he whispered to the shredded vehicle, before opening fire and tearing new holes across it's side.
Rattatatata. His gun fired hard and fast, penetrating the Land Rover and sending shards of shattered glass raining to the gravel below.
Boom. Krank released a round from his shotgun. The sound seemed distant to Anthony, as if it were an echo in a canyon. The crack, crack sound of his own weapon was deafening. A brief interlude to load a new clip left the usual ringing in his ears, something he had long learned to disregard. He pressed his right eye up to the sight again and swept the surroundings. Spotting movement in the bushes to the left, he sent a sweeping shower of bullets in that direction. He wasn't really trying to kill anyone, but it had to look good, otherwise they'd know something was wrong. Anthony was hoping to speak to one of the attackers, to confirm his suspicions. There was no way this was coincidence he had decided. Everything since he had been hand-picked for the Ebbe job was starting to come off like a set-up, right up to this attack on the farmhouse. Some bastard in a five thousand quid suit was playing God. That pissed him off. He wanted to regain control. And that would start right now.
Rattatatata. His gun shredded the foliage. A figure, shrouded in black, leaped from the bushes and scrambled frantically for cover. Boom. Krank let off a round in their direction. The spray of shot caught them in their right leg, lacerating the flesh from bone and sending them tumbling to the gravel. Before Krank could let off another round, three previously hidden figures appeared and opened fire. The bullets smashed through the window and ripped through the furnishings, sending splinters flying through the room. Krank and Anthony dove for cover, both covering their heads from the cascade of debris. Finally the firing relented and Anthony raised his gun above the window line and without looking, fired randomly in all directions.
He paused and turned to Krank.
"I think they believe we're serious," Anthony said calmy, as if nothing had happened.
"Whaddya mean 'believe'?" Krank retorted, also lifting his gun and blindly firing out of the shattered window.
"Like I said. There's only one answer to this," Anthony replied.
"Like you said," Krank agreed.
Anthony turned and pointed his gun at Krank.
"You'll have to die."
Sunday, 29 April 2012
Chapter 6 - Part 2
"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.
"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.
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