Chapter 10 - Part 1
Ebbe's eyes adjusted, to what had at first seemed the pitchest of blacks, surprisingly quickly. But as the scene was laid out before her she almost wished they hadn't. Where only moments before there had been the doorway to the basement, there was now a vast pile of rock, rubble and twisted metal. Krank and James were already frantically grappling with the uneven chunks of debris, tossing them over the edge of the metal walkway with a clatter.
Somewhere within that landslide Anthony was entombed and Ebbe could barely believe the words that therefore escaped from her lips.
"Stop digging," she yelled breathlessly.
James, dutiful as ever, turned to query her command. Krank however continued to desperately pull aside rock with his good arm with stoic determination.
Ebbe ran back along the corridor in a panic, the echo of her clattering shoes reverberating endlessly into the darkness.
"Krank," she screamed, "God damn it man, stop!"
The vast man turned at her with a murderous glare, but immediately returned to the task at hand. Ebbe grasped at his trunk like arm and tried to pull it back, but she was simply tossed aside like a ragdoll, crashing painfully against the railing. Wounded but not defeated Ebbe stood and changed tactic. With all her might she grasped his broken arm and squeezed. Krank let out a crazed, high pitched squeal, an utterly inhuman sound, only made worse by it being repeated seeningly endlessly by the dark corridor.
At last he relented and crumbled to the floor, unable to muster the strength to push her away.
"Woman?" He managed to spit incredulously.
Ebbe released her grip and simply gestured to the roof. Krank, wiped some tears that had accumulated in his eyes and followed her hand.
"Fuck," he whispered, staring upwards morosely.
Ebbe had immediately spotted the vast concrete beam that had probably once served as a support above the entrance. Now, however, it was merely balanced precariously upon the very pile of rocks Krank and James had been trying to clear. It was obvious to Ebbe that no matter what they shifted, at some point that beam, and probably anything above it, what come crashing down. At best, only Anthony, should he still actually be alive, would be crushed to death, defying the point of attempting to free him. More likely, Ebbe felt, they would all be swallowed up in the resulting collapse.
Krank dragged himself backwards, his good fist clenched so tight Ebbe swore she could see blood seep out, though she surmised that may be an injury from his digging.
"We can't just leave him," he muttered dejectedly, clearly aware that was exactly what they must do.
Ebbe swallowed hard, staring at the probable tomb of the man she had just started to think she would like to get to know better.
"You never know," she started, her voice sounding dry and weak, "they may be able to dig him out from the other side."
"Jesus lady. Better he's dead than captured wounded by that bastard," Krank countered venomously.
Alive he has a chance to survive, Ebbe wanted to say, but instead bit her tongue, sensing any retort would only serve to antagonise Krank. Instead she wanted to get the big man moving, heading to wherever this accursed corridor led. She assumed it led somewhere worthwhile, otherwise what was all this effort for?
Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she tried to assess the location. It struck her that the they were cut off from any natural light and yet for every passing second, the corridor seemed to be getting brighter. There were no discernible sources of light, such as overhead lamps. It was almost as if the rock walls themselves were slowly starting to emit a glow. Ebbe was aware of naturally occurring bioluminescence, but could see nothing in this corridor that could actually be generating even this. The walkway itself could stretch to the other side of the world for all she knew. It just appeared to run in a perfect straight line and vanish into nothingness.
Jake was squatting just a few feet down the walkway, Art on his stretcher still lying out cold next to him. She caught Jake's eye and he immediately stood to attention, much to her surprise.
"What's the plan sir?" Jake barked. Ebbe raised her eyebrows and turned to Krank, who was still staring at the rubble.
"He's talking to you luv," Krank mumbled without even turning, somehow sensing her eyes upon him.
"What, what do you mean?" Ebbe spluttered, genuinely not understanding what was happening.
"Chain of command luv," Krank said and he turned and stood.
"Your commanding officer is MIA, his number two is lying paralysed on a stretcher and that leaves you sweetheart." Krank strode up to her
Ebbe shook her head frantically.
"No no no, that can't be right!" Her mouth dried up and her stomach began to churn as if she might need to vomit. "I'm not military. Surely you or Jake..."
"Sweetheart, my understanding is you were in fucking control of something, Jake here is just a puppet in need of a master. I'm not in your unit, Jake here is right. It's your choice." Krank offered something akin to a smile. Ebbe couldn't tell if it was a smirk or a genuine effort at affection. Either way it didn't offer her the respite from the fear she was experiencing.
She looked at James, looking timid and afraid. That she could identify with, that she could handle. Her eyes turned back to Jake, he was standing upright, looking every bit the merciless, heartless killer she had mistrusted earlier. This man expects me to command him in his military manoeuvres? What sort of madness is this?
"Sir?" Jake barked bluntly, his steely gaze unwavering.
Ebbe closed her eyes. She saw Sam, his face beaming back at her innocently. But he faded, just as the sun had faded, he vanished and was replaced only by a dark abyss, by an all consuming darkness. Her eyes burst open and somehow the dull light emanating impossibly from the rocks seemed blinding to her. What would Anthony do she asked herself, as if she were following some sort of military self help book.
What would Anthony do?
He'd knuckle down and get the job done. That's what. When there's no time to think, move and think on the go.
"James," Ebbe tried to sound authoritative, but it sounded pathetic to her as it bounced back to her as every sound had a frustrating tendency to do in this hell hole. "James," she tried again, injecting some bass into her voice which she felt did offer a better sense of gravitas. "You're with Jake, carrying Art. Krank, you know the way so you're, er.. in lead," Ebbe winced, thinking there was a more appropriate phrase, but struggling to pluck it from her mind. "Jake and James, you go next and I'll take the rear."
It was all obvious, simple instructions as far as Ebbe saw it. Clearly Krank was the only one who could navigate and she wanted to have the other two in her sight. It seemed almost stupidly simplistic and she expected there to be sarcastic retorts or grumbles. But to her surprise and delight everyone just nodded in agreement and within seconds the ragtag team were actually heading away from the rubble.
Ebbe couldn't resist one last glance back in the vain hope that she would see a hand appear through the rocks and they would have the chance to pull Anthony free before everything came crashing down upon them.
For a second, she did see the hand. For a split second she knew they could save Anthony and she'd made a terrible mistake in stopping the pair from digging. In the blink of an eye she realised it was a trick of the light, or more likely of the mind.
She turned to see her unit had already made their way into the infinite corridor. With a resigned sigh she whispered a goodbye to Anthony. And before she ran after the others, she did something that took even her by surprise. She prayed. She prayed to God that Anthony be safe.
Monday, 4 February 2013
Tuesday, 24 July 2012
Chapter 9 - Part 2
"We don't have
much time, these things could go off any second, and if they don't he'll
soon wonder why," Anthony said by way of response.
"Much time to do what?" Ebbe quizzed curiously.
"I'll show you," Krank's voice boomed across the basement.
Anthony allowed himself a brief sigh of relief upon seeing his old friend grinning as he propped himself up against the stairs. The relief quickly subsided when he noticed Krank was holding his left arm limply.
"Shit mate, did I break your arm?" Anthony asked crossing over to check him out.
"Nah," Krank laughed, "I think it was the third step from the top." And before Anthony could respond Krank made his away across the room with vast strides and stood in front of the far right brick wall. Anthony briefly turned his attention to Ebbe, checking how she was coping with the moment. Her pale face had clearly further drained of colour and he could see she was shaking. Tough she may be, she is still only a civi. Somehow his team visiting wasn't a total surprise. This last adventure was something else and it had obviously shaken her. Anthony debated saying something to her, to reassure, but the warm metal grenade clasped in his clammy hand told him this was not the time. She was not a woman in need for false assurances. Death was likely at this very moment and no words could change that fact. Instead he turned to his team for a swift damage check. Art was still strapped tightly to the make-shift stretcher, Jake was apparently out cold next to him and James was standing staring at the grenade in his hand intensely. One child swapped for another, Anthony sighed, but at least this one is trustworthy to the core. This assessment of the room had taken mere seconds and was swiftly interrupted by a loud clank, followed by the hiss of a heavy piston shunting a great weight.
Anthony swung around to see a white panel, previously hidden from sight, that he recognised to be the IQ biometric sensor panel that Krank would have used to access the entrance to whatever it was he had been guarding this past few months. A chunk of wall, approximately seven foot tall, by three foot wide, suddenly split open with a gentle sigh. Dank air gasped out, filling the basement with the scent of rust and damp. With a smooth efficiency the brick door slid outward and then to the left, revealing a pitch black tunnel. Krank turned to look at Anthony and with a face graver than any Anthony had seen him with before, gave a nodding gesture that said they ought all get through the door quick sharp.
"Ebbe," Anthony hissed, "go slap Jake and help him carry Art through. James, you wait here with me.
Ebbe jumped when he first spoke her name and for a split second he feared she had been lost to terror, but as soon as this thought had occurred, she sprung to life like a dutiful soldier and sprinted over to Jake. He next concern was that she would take his command literally. He winced as he watched this slender woman, that Jake could snap in half with one arm behind his back, duly give him not one, but two not inconsiderable slaps to the face. He couldn't help but think she had taken some level of pleasure from the act. The third whack confirmed his suspicions and also relieved him of his fears. Jake merely awoke with a start and grasped her arm tightly before a fourth slap could connect.
"Wake up sleeping beauty," Ebbe whispered, just loud enough for Anthony to discern. He smiled briefly before the sound of the stone slab being removed above brought him back down to reality.
"Move your asses!" he yelled insistently. Daylight spilled down the stairway and the long shadows of men made their way down the steps. Ebbe and Jake spared no further time, wordlessly grabbing an end of the stretcher each and lifting with remarkable ease. Feet emerged on the top steps, their owners immediately spotted they had been bluffed and began to sprint, stumblingly downwards. Ebbe and Jake passed Anthony with as much haste as they could muster. He watched them vanish past Krank, who glanced at Anthony knowingly before also merging into the darkness beyond the stone door.
"Get ready kid," Anthony shouted, effectively running backwards whilst watching the men emerge at the foot of the steps. He knew James was already behind him without looking, and stepped surreptitiously to the side, so the pair were opposite each other. "On my mark," Anthony barked, watching the guns of the men rising and noting that Atkins had been smart enough not to venture down this time.
"Mark," he shouted as gunfire blared. Both he and James released their grenades and threw themselves through into the dark abyss beyond the door.
The grenades were already primed and detonated in mid air, before the five men who had convened in the basement had a chance to even turn and flee. The stone door that Anthony and James had tumbled through had, unknown even to them, started to close.
The blast briefly lit up the long straight corridor, revealing dank stone walls, a pocked metallic walkway with dilapidated railings. The light died as the door was blocked by a tumbling cascade of stone, earth and mud.
Pitch black and pure silence reigned for a second.
"Bishop," Krank shouted urgently.
"What's happened?" Ebbe's voice echoed off the slick walls, making it impossible to tell how far along the walk way she now was.
There was no answer, only the sound of rocks and stones being pulled aside.
"Bishop? Come on man, where are you?"
A weak groan seemed to come as an answer.
"That you James?" Krank's voice boomed.
"Sir, Yes sir," came the weak but determined response.
"Help me find Bishop son," Krank urged amidst the sound of rock and earth being clawed away.
Anthony could feel something wet pooling around his right eye. He wanted desperately to wipe it away, but discovered he could not move. Goddamn it, he cursed, have I been hit by stray shrapnel and paralysed? No, that wasn't it, his feet was hot and itchy and his hand was screaming out in agony. Jesus, I'm bloody buried, he concluded. The goddamn tunnel caved in on me. Yes, he could hear muffled sounds emanating from somewhere, but it was impossible to judge distance and direction. Anthony did his best to struggle and shift, hoping that whatever mass was pinning him down was still fluid enough to dislodge. But it seemed futile. His hand winced with every minute movement and it occurred to Anthony that right now he had a breathing space, but by moving he could fill that space with earth and suffocate.
No, his only choice was to lie here and hope that Krank was working on getting him free. But the thick, muffled sound did little to allay his fears. It seemed that something was moving in more than one place at a time. Of course, he concluded, trying to keep his thoughts lucid and his breathing shallow, it could just be Krank, Ebbe and the others all trying to shift the debris. Or it could be Krank on one end of the corridor and Atkins in the basement.
I would rather have this be my tomb than be dragged out backwards by Atkins like a wounded rabbit in the jaws of a hound, Anthony concluded.
His hot breath was beginning to fill the small air pocket and he could sense his consciousness beginning to fade. How unfair, Anthony concluded as he slipped from one darkness to another, that I shall die, and never truly know Ebbe Nystrom.
"Much time to do what?" Ebbe quizzed curiously.
"I'll show you," Krank's voice boomed across the basement.
Anthony allowed himself a brief sigh of relief upon seeing his old friend grinning as he propped himself up against the stairs. The relief quickly subsided when he noticed Krank was holding his left arm limply.
"Shit mate, did I break your arm?" Anthony asked crossing over to check him out.
"Nah," Krank laughed, "I think it was the third step from the top." And before Anthony could respond Krank made his away across the room with vast strides and stood in front of the far right brick wall. Anthony briefly turned his attention to Ebbe, checking how she was coping with the moment. Her pale face had clearly further drained of colour and he could see she was shaking. Tough she may be, she is still only a civi. Somehow his team visiting wasn't a total surprise. This last adventure was something else and it had obviously shaken her. Anthony debated saying something to her, to reassure, but the warm metal grenade clasped in his clammy hand told him this was not the time. She was not a woman in need for false assurances. Death was likely at this very moment and no words could change that fact. Instead he turned to his team for a swift damage check. Art was still strapped tightly to the make-shift stretcher, Jake was apparently out cold next to him and James was standing staring at the grenade in his hand intensely. One child swapped for another, Anthony sighed, but at least this one is trustworthy to the core. This assessment of the room had taken mere seconds and was swiftly interrupted by a loud clank, followed by the hiss of a heavy piston shunting a great weight.
Anthony swung around to see a white panel, previously hidden from sight, that he recognised to be the IQ biometric sensor panel that Krank would have used to access the entrance to whatever it was he had been guarding this past few months. A chunk of wall, approximately seven foot tall, by three foot wide, suddenly split open with a gentle sigh. Dank air gasped out, filling the basement with the scent of rust and damp. With a smooth efficiency the brick door slid outward and then to the left, revealing a pitch black tunnel. Krank turned to look at Anthony and with a face graver than any Anthony had seen him with before, gave a nodding gesture that said they ought all get through the door quick sharp.
"Ebbe," Anthony hissed, "go slap Jake and help him carry Art through. James, you wait here with me.
Ebbe jumped when he first spoke her name and for a split second he feared she had been lost to terror, but as soon as this thought had occurred, she sprung to life like a dutiful soldier and sprinted over to Jake. He next concern was that she would take his command literally. He winced as he watched this slender woman, that Jake could snap in half with one arm behind his back, duly give him not one, but two not inconsiderable slaps to the face. He couldn't help but think she had taken some level of pleasure from the act. The third whack confirmed his suspicions and also relieved him of his fears. Jake merely awoke with a start and grasped her arm tightly before a fourth slap could connect.
"Wake up sleeping beauty," Ebbe whispered, just loud enough for Anthony to discern. He smiled briefly before the sound of the stone slab being removed above brought him back down to reality.
"Move your asses!" he yelled insistently. Daylight spilled down the stairway and the long shadows of men made their way down the steps. Ebbe and Jake spared no further time, wordlessly grabbing an end of the stretcher each and lifting with remarkable ease. Feet emerged on the top steps, their owners immediately spotted they had been bluffed and began to sprint, stumblingly downwards. Ebbe and Jake passed Anthony with as much haste as they could muster. He watched them vanish past Krank, who glanced at Anthony knowingly before also merging into the darkness beyond the stone door.
"Get ready kid," Anthony shouted, effectively running backwards whilst watching the men emerge at the foot of the steps. He knew James was already behind him without looking, and stepped surreptitiously to the side, so the pair were opposite each other. "On my mark," Anthony barked, watching the guns of the men rising and noting that Atkins had been smart enough not to venture down this time.
"Mark," he shouted as gunfire blared. Both he and James released their grenades and threw themselves through into the dark abyss beyond the door.
The grenades were already primed and detonated in mid air, before the five men who had convened in the basement had a chance to even turn and flee. The stone door that Anthony and James had tumbled through had, unknown even to them, started to close.
The blast briefly lit up the long straight corridor, revealing dank stone walls, a pocked metallic walkway with dilapidated railings. The light died as the door was blocked by a tumbling cascade of stone, earth and mud.
Pitch black and pure silence reigned for a second.
"Bishop," Krank shouted urgently.
"What's happened?" Ebbe's voice echoed off the slick walls, making it impossible to tell how far along the walk way she now was.
There was no answer, only the sound of rocks and stones being pulled aside.
"Bishop? Come on man, where are you?"
A weak groan seemed to come as an answer.
"That you James?" Krank's voice boomed.
"Sir, Yes sir," came the weak but determined response.
"Help me find Bishop son," Krank urged amidst the sound of rock and earth being clawed away.
Anthony could feel something wet pooling around his right eye. He wanted desperately to wipe it away, but discovered he could not move. Goddamn it, he cursed, have I been hit by stray shrapnel and paralysed? No, that wasn't it, his feet was hot and itchy and his hand was screaming out in agony. Jesus, I'm bloody buried, he concluded. The goddamn tunnel caved in on me. Yes, he could hear muffled sounds emanating from somewhere, but it was impossible to judge distance and direction. Anthony did his best to struggle and shift, hoping that whatever mass was pinning him down was still fluid enough to dislodge. But it seemed futile. His hand winced with every minute movement and it occurred to Anthony that right now he had a breathing space, but by moving he could fill that space with earth and suffocate.
No, his only choice was to lie here and hope that Krank was working on getting him free. But the thick, muffled sound did little to allay his fears. It seemed that something was moving in more than one place at a time. Of course, he concluded, trying to keep his thoughts lucid and his breathing shallow, it could just be Krank, Ebbe and the others all trying to shift the debris. Or it could be Krank on one end of the corridor and Atkins in the basement.
I would rather have this be my tomb than be dragged out backwards by Atkins like a wounded rabbit in the jaws of a hound, Anthony concluded.
His hot breath was beginning to fill the small air pocket and he could sense his consciousness beginning to fade. How unfair, Anthony concluded as he slipped from one darkness to another, that I shall die, and never truly know Ebbe Nystrom.
Sunday, 22 July 2012
Chapter 9 - Part 1
"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.
"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.
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.
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