Scar Tissue

by Ollie Ollerton

  Stone had finished. He slung the petrol can which landed a few feet away skidding along the stones behind him. ‘And leave him alive so that he can come after me?’

  ‘Then put a bullet in us both.’ Abbott’s voice was rising. ‘Just not this way, Stone. Not like this. You’re not a monster.’ But at the same time he wondered, because maybe their way of life made monsters of them all, just in different ways. Could he have found it in himself to act in a way that was utterly inhumane, repugnant to the man in the street? Answer: yes – yes he could. ‘I can help you,’ he tried instead. ‘Let me help you.’

  ‘Help me by shutting up,’ said Stone. He raised the bronze Zippo lighter.

  No, no.

  Abbott glanced to his left, through the bar of the partition to Nathan. His reaction to the fuel had been to shrink into one corner, but when Abbott found his gaze there was no fear or alarm in his eyes.

  ‘Nathan,’ said Abbott uselessly. Then something occurred to him. His guys, the other Executive Alliance Group personnel. They couldn’t be down with this. No way. Stone had to be a lone actor on this one.

  He thought fast. ‘Are you sure this is about revenge?’ he said quickly, needing to keep Stone talking. ‘Are you sure this is about revenge for Jeremy?’

  And it was as though Stone knew where Abbott was headed. ‘Get his name out of your mouth.’

  ‘Because he was doing your dirty work for you, wasn’t he? That’s why he was there. Maybe even why he was in Baghdad.’

  ‘We were working together.’

  ‘Oh yeah? And whose idea was that, then? His? No, I don’t think so somehow. You blame me, don’t you, for bringing him out of the Green Zone that night. But what about yourself? What about the reason he was in Baghdad in the first place? Are you sure all of this is really revenge for Jeremy, or is it for you – to help you with your guilt? You let him down, didn’t you?’

  ‘Well, you should know all about that.’

  The Zippo was aloft. Stone’s eyes burned. There was no way back.

  ‘Help!’ called Abbott at the top of his voice, raising his chin as if to shout it through the stable ceiling. ‘For Christ’s sake, help!’

  At the same time he saw a crack of light at the door, and saw a figure move through. A figure with a knife that came up behind Stone quickly. Was it the second-in-command? Marsh? Abbott couldn’t tell, and anyway, Stone had raised his Zippo, flicked it so that the flame flared, and his eyes were on Abbott as he pulled back his arm. Suddenly he sensed movement, realised that somebody was behind him. He turned to see the man who was about to attack him. And, for the first time, so did Abbott.

  It was Burton. He was covered in blood. His beard was matted with it, his teeth streaked with it. His eyes were wild, and his knife was held high in no regulation attack formation that Abbott knew of.

  ‘You fucked me,’ he screamed at Stone.

  Stone dropped his phone at the same time as his arm slapped to his side, reaching for his sidearm. But he was too late and it was all he could do to block the downward slice of Burton’s combat knife. He caught Burton’s arm, the two stood for a moment, grappling, and at the same time the lit Zippo dropped. Stone saw it on the ground and kicked it towards the bay.

  Whump.

  The bay went up.

  ‘Nathan,’ screamed Abbott, pushing himself to the partition wall. Through the flames he saw Nathan gaze almost quizzically at the fire that somehow seemed to have appeared in the cell, that now gathered itself around him.

  ‘Burton,’ Abbott was screaming, ‘Burton, it’s Nathan, he needs help.’

  But Burton was otherwise engaged. He and Stone were locked in battle, the pair of them had wrestled each other to the floor and were rolling, each trying to get the upper hand like kids fighting on the school field at lunch break – only with death on their minds.

  In desperation, Abbott began yanking at the cage door. The cable ties held fast. He leaped, fingers going through the metal of the cage side overhead, trying to use his weight to shift it, and when that didn’t work, shoving at it. As he dropped back to the ground, flames licked through the partition bars. At the same time, Nathan next door began screaming, the agony of the fire finally dragging him from his trance-like state.

  And then Abbott saw it – the cable ties were melting in the heat. With an extra burst of strength, he began yanking at the door, again and again, feeling flames singe first his arms and then hair, but still yanking, back and forth, back and forth, trying to work at the cable ties, trying to help them on their way as the heat gave them elasticity, the gap between the door and its frame growing slightly wider, slightly wider, feeling hairs at his eyelids and eyebrows burn, feeling the flames lick his hair until, finally, the cables gave, his door opened and he was rushing out, wrenching on Nathan’s door again and again, back and forth, back and forth, until those cables snapped too, and he was yanking open the door, ignoring the fire that leaped to embrace him like an old friend and reaching out to Nathan, grabbing him, pulling him from the bay to safety.

  He used his own body to smother the flames that lay in patches on Nathan’s clothes, saying, ‘Nathan? Nathan, can you hear me? Can you hear me?’

  Nathan’s skin was blackened. In places it was as though it had been flayed away, revealing striations of red flesh beneath. Abbott went to put his hands to his face then stopped himself, seeing Nathan’s face properly for the first time. His eyebrows and eyelids had been burned away. His lips were black, as though they had shrunk over his teeth. There were blisters and bubbles on his eyelids and small plumes of smoke came off them, as though they were still burning inside. He put his cheek to the boy’s mouth, trying to feel for breath, checked for a pulse. Nathan was alive. Just. Alive but unconscious, barely hanging on.

  And now Abbott looked over, seeing an epic struggle between Burton and Stone – Stone had the advantage. There was a sound like tools being dropped and the combat knife slid across the flags. Burton saw it, knowing it was his only chance, but Stone pressed home the advantage, bucking his hips and grasping Burton in a scissor hold with his legs.

  Most likely, Burton had sustained internal injuries during the crash, for he was instantly in agony, his shoulders went back and his arms were suddenly useless to him amid an onslaught of pain. Stone squeezed his thighs together and wrenched to the side, bringing Burton to the ground and twisting so that he came out on top.

  He managed to free his sidearm from its holster. But Abbott had seen, had launched himself from where he knelt with Nathan. As he dived over, he grabbed the petrol can, swinging it at Stone and catching him on the head with a sound that was almost comical, like a cartoon, spraying Stone with fuel at the same time. Stone, rising, was unsteady for a moment, blood already coursing down his temple as Abbott crashed to the floor on the other side of him. Abbott twisted in time to see Stone aim blindly, Abbott bringing the fuel tank to bear just as Stone’s finger whitened on the trigger.

  The round spanged off, ricocheting somewhere in the stable block. Abbott gave him no chance to fire twice, throwing the petrol canister, following it up by barrelling into Stone, who pinwheeled backwards.

  And was suddenly on fire.

  He’d been too close to the blazing bays; the greedy flames reached out and took him. But even now his gun arm was coming up, his mouth open, tendrils of smoke escaping, and still his last final urge was to kill Abbott. The gun came up, and Abbott thought of Nathan.

  Abbott barrelled forward. He caught Stone in the midriff, propelling him backwards so that Stone’s feet came out from under him and the two of them fell, Abbott landing on top of Stone in the stable. Around them the fire raged, and Stone writhed, trying to keep his head out of the flames, but Abbott’s hands were around his throat, Abbott screaming with the effort, shrieking with the agony of the fire on his hands as he held Stone’s head in the fire listening to his agonised shrieking.

  Stone was still screaming, his mouth open, revealing a black hollow void beneath as though the fire wa
s eating him from the inside out. Still Abbott’s hands constricted around his throat until, suddenly, he felt a hand at his back and then was pulled backwards and clear of the flaming stable bay by a panting, blood-covered Burton.

  ‘I think he’s dead, mate,’ said Burton.

  CHAPTER 58

  In the next instant, Abbott skidded over to where Nathan lay. Burton, moving painfully, was at his heel.

  ‘We need to get him to hospital,’ said Abbott. ‘Come on.’ He looked at Burton. ‘How the fuck did you get here?’

  ‘In the Toyota at thirty miles an hour the whole way,’ winced Burton. ‘That is one very fucked vehicle, mate.’

  In moments, Burton and Abbott were hobbling out of the stables. Abbott burned, Burton injured, but both of them in better shape than Nathan. Supported in between them, he was still out cold, head lolling on his chest, his clothes like smoking beggars’ rags, charred and burned from the fire that behind them began to consume the entire stable building.

  In the compound they stopped for a second blinking in bright sunlight. ‘There,’ called Burton, and he began to make his way over to the truck. At the same time, the door to the main building burst open and two men came running out, both with assault rifles plugged into their shoulders. ‘Don’t fucking move.’

  Behind them hurried a third man. ‘No,’ he called. ‘Let them go.’

  ‘What do you mean, Marsh?’ said one of the men over his shoulder, putting his cheek back to the stock of the AR.

  Standing in the door of the main house, Marsh was looking carefully at Abbott, Burton and Nathan. His eyes travelled to the stable block, ablaze, and then back again, as though divining what had happened. That Stone was no longer part of the equation. Behind him, three more men poured out into the courtyard, ‘Where’s Stone?’ one of the men was saying.

  ‘He’s not here, and if you think I’m giving the order to open fire on friendlies without him, you can think again,’ replied Marsh. He hoisted his AR, finger coming close to the trigger guard.

  ‘This is the security we went up against at Mahlouthi’s villa,’ said one of the gun-toting trio. Like his two pals, he wore a black combat vest.

  ‘Where is he?’ asked Marsh, ignoring the guy. ‘Where’s Stone?’ Behind him appeared more Executive Alliance Group men, fanning out behind them. These guys had stripped down to T-shirts or were bare-chested, but they were all armed. Abbott couldn’t help but notice how they kept themselves apart from the three combat-vest guys.

  ‘Your boss is dead,’ Burton called across. All eyes went to him, seeing the state of him. Marsh in particular.

  ‘I thought you were dead,’ he said across the courtyard. ‘I’m sorry. I would never have left you there if I’d known. I genuinely didn’t feel a pulse, mate.’

  Abbott wondered how Burton was going to take it, but the big man cracked a grin. ‘I’m as tough as that Land Cruiser out there.’ He gesticulated beyond the gates. ‘Both presumed dead but still very much alive.’

  Meanwhile, the combat-vest crew were getting antsy, making eyes at one another as they crouched, as though each was daring the others to make the first move. Abbott felt the barrels of the rifles upon them, knowing they were more than willing to open fire – gagging for it, in fact.

  ‘This one killed Blakey,’ said one of them, gesturing at Abbott.

  ‘It was combat,’ said Marsh. ‘Blakey would have taken him out, if he could have done.’

  ‘Fact is, they were security for Mahlouthi,’ said another.

  ‘So they were just doing their job,’ said Marsh. ‘Was your mission to kill them?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘There you go. Just doing their job.’

  ‘Well, I’m just doing mine. And we brought them in here as prisoners, we’re not letting them go until I get the go-ahead from the boss.’

  ‘Didn’t you hear, you idiot? Boss is dead,’ said Marsh, and as though to explain his own lack of sadness, added, ‘he wasn’t playing with a full deck.’

  ‘He’d lost it,’ confirmed Abbott. He felt the attention of the men go to him. ‘I’m telling you. Completely lost the plot. He tried to burn us alive. All we did was save ourselves.’

  Marsh seemed to be considering.

  ‘OK, then, you can go. Take a truck.’

  They began to make their way towards one of the trucks but a voice from one of the three combat vests stopped them. ‘No way. No way are they going anywhere.’

  ‘Stand down, soldier,’ said Marsh. ‘And that’s an order.’

  ‘You don’t give me orders.’

  Marsh turned to one of the men behind him. ‘Go check in the stables. If you can, see if he’s telling the truth.’

  ‘I can’t stay here for much longer,’ Abbott said to him. He shot Marsh imploring eyes, trying to appeal to his better nature. Hoping there was one. ‘I need to get my son to hospital.’

  ‘Just a moment.’

  Seconds later the man reappeared. ‘Fire needs putting out,’ he said.

  ‘We’ll get to that,’ replied Marsh testily. ‘Let’s start with whether there is a body in there, shall we?’

  ‘Oh yeah, there’s a body in there, all right.’

  ‘And is the body him? Is it the boss?’

  ‘Gotta say, I think it is. Either way, I didn’t see him inside, did you?’

  ‘And that’s the way it goes, is it?’ snapped combat vest. ‘The guys who killed our boss – we let them go. Case closed.’

  ‘They need to get the boy to the hospital.’

  ‘And fast,’ pressed Abbott.

  ‘Nah, man, I’m not having this.’

  ‘I said stand down,’ repeated Marsh.

  ‘No.’

  Marsh took a deep breath. ‘Lads,’ was all he said, and the guns of the men behind him swung to cover the three men in combat vests. ‘Drop your weapons.’

  ‘You fucking pussy,’ said one.

  ‘Say that again, and I’ll put a round in you just for the hell of it,’ said Marsh. ‘We’re taking one to the hospital, might as well take two.’ He returned his attention to Abbott and Burton, who were already taking advantage of the changed dynamic and had begun limping towards one of the trucks, carrying Nathan. Of the two, it was the one that had led the convoy, and escaped the battle unharmed.

  ‘Is there a medic here?’ called Abbott across to the men.

  But Marsh had already moved after them, and was now bending down to Nathan. ‘Closest you’ll get is me.’

  Abbott looked at him sharply. ‘You’re a paramedic?’ he said. ‘You know what you’re doing?’

  ‘No. But I’ve had some training,’ said Marsh. He called across to his men for a first-aid kit, saying to Abbott, ‘I can do my best for him until we get him to hospital,’ he pulled a face, shook his head gravely, ‘but I can tell you now that he needs expert medical attention fast, or he’s going to die.’

  Watched by the Executive Alliance Group crew, Abbott, Burton and Marsh loaded Nathan gently into the back of the lorry. Abbott clambered in beside him. Marsh, too. ‘You OK to drive?’ said Abbott to Burton.

  ‘No,’ shot back Burton, ‘I am not fucking OK to drive. But if I can drive that fucked-up Land Cruiser, I can drive this.’

  CHAPTER 59

  Moments later, the truck was roaring into life and they were on their way. Abbott sat with his back against the side of the truck, with Nathan’s head in his lap, taking some comfort from the fact that his son’s chest rose and fell, and his eyelids would occasionally flicker.

  ‘Mate, you’re hurt,’ said Marsh, ‘you need to get these wounds dressed.’

  Abbott shook him away when he tried to inspect the burns on the back of his hand, saying nothing but wanting the medic to concentrate on Nathan. ‘All right,’ said Marsh, ‘but at least try to get some sleep.’

  Abbott told himself that wasn’t going to happen, but as he lay there, he began to feel himself phasing out. His head lolled. Into his mind came visions of Jeremy Robinson vainly hanging onto
life as he died. A little boy on a riverbank. Tessa …

  The bodies …

  Suddenly, he jerked awake, realising that he hadn’t checked on Nathan.

  ‘He’s hanging in there,’ said Marsh gently. He removed a pair of scissors from his mouth to speak, carefully unrolling a bandage at the same time. He looked like you’d expect a medic to look. As for Nathan, Abbott moved to check for himself. The boy was still alive. Just. His heartbeat was faint, hardly even apparent under Abbott’s fingertips. His pulse fluttered like the wings of a dying butterfly.

  But he didn’t have long. That much Abbott knew.

  He sat back, lost in thought. He remembered something and reached into his pocket, pulled out a phone that he flipped open.

  ‘Who are you calling?’ asked Marsh.

  ‘Nobody,’ replied Abbott. ‘This is Stone’s phone. I grabbed it before we left the stables.’

  ‘Stone’s phone?’ Something in Marsh’s voice made Abbott look up. ‘Hey, maybe you should give it here? Perhaps I’ll know the pass code.’ He made as if to reach over and take it.

  ‘Or maybe I’ll just hang onto it,’ said Abbott, holding the phone away. His eyes were on Marsh, wondering about the change that seemed to have come over him.

  ‘Of course,’ covered Marsh. ‘Yeah, of course, buddy. Whatever.’

  Something occurred to Abbott. How long had he’d been dozing? ‘Shouldn’t we be in Kirkuk by now?’ he said, and before Marsh could answer, he had scrabbled to the side of the truck and yanked up the tarpaulin in order to look outside.

  No sign of Kirkuk. No sign of anything. He looked up to locate the sun, confirming his suspicion: they were not travelling towards Kirkuk. They were going in the wrong direction. They passed a burned-out coalition troop carrier. It had the words ‘Dave Angel Eco Warrior’ spray-painted on the front.

  They were going back to Baghdad.

  Now he pushed Stone’s phone back into his pocket and leaped to the separator between the truck’s cab and the back of the lorry, looking through the dirty glass to see that Burton was on the phone. He rapped on the window. ‘Kirkuk,’ he screamed. ‘We need to get into Kirkuk. What are you doing?’