by Scott Baker
‘My God, how have we survived any of this?’ Shaun asked himself.
Strength of will, his brain answered.
Indeed. Through strength of will he forced himself to stand. He had sat for almost twenty minutes while they stitched up Lauren’s arm. They had asked him to stay away while they worked. He had protested, but when he saw the chaos going on around him, he decided not to push the issue and to let the doctors do their work. It had given him a moment to regroup. To get a drink, to charge his phone and to stop. He took a seat across the hall and must have fallen asleep. He was drained after their ordeal; it seemed unreal.
Except for the fact that he was still holding the diary. He looked down at it now, clasped firmly in his hands. He knew that it was important. Important enough to kill for, but not to die for, not to him. His finger traced the symbol on the front cover. It flowed up from the bottom before being guided around the first small loop, then around the larger loop, before returning to the centre line and drifting upwards into the unknown.
He tucked the book into his inner jacket pocket and brought his fingertip up to his face. There was the bump. It looked like it belonged there, like it was part of his finger, but he knew it hadn’t been there a few hours ago. He had tried to get someone to look at it, but the triage nurses had other priorities.
He walked over to the strange man who lay on the bed next to Lauren. The curtains were still drawn around her cubicle, and he guessed she was sleeping.
No one buzzed around the rag-man lying on the bed. The smell, Shaun’s brain reasoned. The doctors couldn’t explain why the hobo was still unconscious. He had hit his head, sure, but the trauma to his body was far more than it should have been. Many of the wounds were older. The doctors explained it away as extreme exhaustion.
Shaun absently ran his thumb over his fingertips. He had only checked the man’s pulse and now … Seeing that no one was around, he reached down to the man’s collar, and started to pull down far enough to—
‘What are you doing?’ The nurse startled Shaun, approaching from behind.
‘Ah, my friend … he was …’ he started.
‘He’s your friend? You brought this man in? Good, then I have some paperwork for you to fill out. Beds in this hospital are not free, young man, and we’ll be needing some of your details too.’
She produced a document and clipboard as if by magic. She was a woman in her early-to-mid forties, he guessed, and had long ago had all the sympathy sucked out of her. She thrust a pencil towards him and marched away.
The frazzled teacher sank back down in his seat. He had to wait it out until Lauren recovered, so he may as well do the paperwork. Sighing, Shaun looked down at the forms, and then at the diary.
He had to know if it really was the book these people were after. Shaun shook his head, remembering that he was a logical man, a scientist. Maybe this had all been random, but that seemed implausible given how many strange events had occurred over the past few hours. It was all too coincidental, and the thought that all this was an accident was nearly as hard for him to stomach as the thought that it wasn’t all an accident – which was a thought that was very hard to stomach indeed. He figured his stomach was in for a rough time.
Putting the paperwork aside, he opened the diary.
CHAPTER 13
I was faced with ninety feet of open ground lined by Roman soldiers. At the far end was an innocent boy being used, I knew, to spur me into a fight. I smiled and thought that a blow to the head might jog my memory.
My heels hit the horse’s flanks hard. I did not bother to speak, did not bother to call for them to let him go. I knew now that this was all a ruse. They had probably not even planned an attack on the village, but why go to such trouble for me?
The first challengers came from the right. Two soldiers spurred their mounts into action and lifted their short swords. I charged straight at them. Their confusion showed, but they did not slow. They both raised their swords. I aimed my approach directly between them, and as they reached me they were forced to split apart, one passing on either side. They each swung at my neck, their blades parallel to the ground. As the steel whistled towards my collarbone, I laid back on my animal and watched both blades sail harmlessly overhead.
My horse was still galloping full speed to where the soldiers held Mishca. Two riders sprang from their line to intercept, then two more after that. Mishca screamed my name, the only name I had ever known, but was silenced by a blow to the mouth. I could see that I was going to crash headlong into the wall of four riders now in front of me. They held their reins tight and would not let my charge pass between them. I had no choice. Already lying flat on the back of a charging stallion, I lifted my legs and tucked up hard, the momentum forcing me into a backwards roll that took me off the back end of the horse. While upside down I had time to see the first two riders whirl their horses around. My legs came all the way over and I hit the ground running, now sprinting along directly behind the tan-coloured stallion. The horse pulled up as it came to the charging wall of Romans. The fifteen-hand stallion turned side on, forcing the four riders to go around it. They reached the horse moments before I did, and set to swing their swords down at me. The gap my horse had created was all that I needed. From my sprint I dove into a forward roll, right between my horse’s legs and came up on the other side. I ran harder.
Now with six mounted guards behind me, plus the ones who had chased me from the road, I found myself running with a mass of red and leather close behind. Ahead, a line of men had formed, dismounting from their steeds to face me on foot.
They started to converge from the edges to form a wall. There was no going through the body-length shields they held side by side, nor past the long spears that jutted out intermittently along the advancing line.
I slowed, my sprint becoming a run, then a jog, then finally a walk. My chest heaved with effort and I sucked in lungfuls of air. Behind me, the chasing soldiers also dismounted, and before I knew it there was a ring of legionnaires around me, slowly closing. I was surrounded, still not knowing why these men pursued me.
Then it started. One man came into the circle. No sword, no spear. I didn’t understand, but as he ran at me I didn’t have time to think about it.
I stepped back with my right leg, and as he charged, I pushed forward, tucking my knee and driving my foot out hard, directly into the man’s face. The effect was dramatic. His head went backwards while his body kept on coming. He did a complete backflip in the air, landing flat on the grass next to me. He didn’t move again.
Another man entered the ring, slowly, sizing me up. He also was unarmed. Coming within a few feet of me, he dropped into a wide-stanced crouch. He leaped to tackle me and caught me on the chest with his shoulder. I fell back, but as I did I brought my knee up into his sternum and gripped the straps on his shoulders. The big man flipped over me through virtue of his own attack. He landed flat on his back, winded. I straddled his chest, reaching out with my hands to his chin and the back of his head. The twist was sudden and definite as the man’s neck cracked. I got to my feet, ready for more. Then I heard a call.
‘Enough!’ It was the deep baritone of the centurion I had seen on the road, who had tried to take Mishca in Chorazin. ‘Bring him.’
From behind the ring of tightly packed soldiers a net came sailing over to land on top of me. It was made of thick rope and weighted by stones at its rim. The weight surprised me, dragging me to my knees. Within that moment a guard rushed forward, and I looked into the fine wood grain of the butt of his spear.
CHAPTER 14
The curtains hissed as they were drawn back. Shaun’s head snapped up, shaken by the metallic sound of the railings. There was no butt of a spear to greet him, only several nurses walking out of the cubicle. Lauren was awake and lying flat on a bed. Her wound had needed sutures, so they had stitched her up and let her sleep for a couple of hours. Now, though, with more patients coming through after the carnage, the bed was needed for more seri
ous cases. He closed the diary, leaving a hospital flyer to mark his page. With a broad grin he stood up and crossed the small hallway to where she lay, looking better after her rest.
‘Hey, baby,’ Shaun smiled. ‘Nice sleep?’
‘Mmm, I was swimming at the Olympics. The pool was all warm and made of chocolate and the other competitors were complaining,’ she answered dazily.
‘Not you, though, huh? I’ve never heard you complain about chocolate in your life.’ He looked down at her. ‘Hey, look at your arm all stitched up. You’ll be able to swim again in no time.’ She wriggled in the bed a little.
‘I just wanna go back to sleep,’ she looked over at her shoulder. ‘I didn’t even feel it, Shaun. I don’t know when it happened.’
He could not believe that his wife had been shot. The thought terrified him, but he forced a laugh. He recalled the single most frightening moment of his life prior to tonight – when he had asked Lauren to marry him. They were up in the spectacular Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, and they had snuck out from under her father’s nose for a drive.
Lauren always said that there seemed to be more stars the further into the mountains they drove, and she loved to imagine what the world beyond was like. Shaun knew that her father wasn’t a bad man; he just wanted the very best for his daughter, and to his mind, Shaun wasn’t it. And so they had dated in secret for almost two years before Lauren plucked up the courage to tell her father she was in love with the town nerd.
They were on a chairlift overlooking some of the most glorious scenery in the United States when he had turned to her and said, ‘I brought you here mostly so you couldn’t get away, but also …’ And then he did it. Or tried to.
Before he had got the next word out, she had said, ‘Yes. Yes of course I’ll marry you – so you can stop sweating now.’ Then she laughed and pointed at an eagle swooping in a gorge below.
He was so happy and relieved that he had forgotten about the ring in his back pocket until later that day when he sat on it in the car. He would never forget the unceremonious way he slipped it on her finger in the car park at the base of the huge Grandfather Mountain, and remembered thinking that this girl, who had said yes, was sparkling much brighter than any ring. This girl who was now lying on a hospital bed with stitches in her shoulder.
‘I know, baby. Things were a little crazy.’ Shaun stroked Lauren’s cheek. ‘They still are; and this place is filling up quickly. The crash has been all over the news.’ He paused for a moment and then said, ‘I think they’re going to ask us for the bed soon, so I should try to find a hotel. Then you can go back to swimming pools of chocolate, huh?’
‘Mmm, I think I was winning too. Or coming a really close second.’
‘There’s a hotel board in the lobby. I won’t be long.’ He made to leave, but Lauren reached up and grabbed his hand.
‘Don’t leave me, baby. Just a few more minutes.’ Shaun brushed the golden hair that had fallen across her face out of her eyes.
‘I’ll be two minutes. You want the Hyatt?’
Her eyes lit up. ‘Only if they’ve got a pool!’ she said, letting his hand go with a smile.
He smiled back, then turned and headed for the elevator. He knew he couldn’t really afford the Hyatt, but after tonight they needed a splurge.
It’s not every day your wife gets shot, he thought as he held the close-door and lobby buttons simultaneously. He had heard an urban myth that this trick gave an express ride to the desired floor, so he thought he would try. Shaun turned as the door shut, staring back at his sleeping wife.
In that moment, the world stopped. This moment would be etched in time forever. The only thing that still moved was the elevator door. Closing. Closing on his view of Lauren and the man in black who now stood next to her. A cold surge pulsed from the small of Shaun’s back, up his neck and rippled goosebumps into the rear of his scalp. It was the most sickening, nauseous feeling Shaun had ever known. The colour drained from him as he opened his mouth to scream.
Slow motion.
The door continued to close. The man in black stood over Shaun’s sleeping, oblivious wife. He raised an arm and pointed towards her chest. The elevator door was about to close.
From the back of the elevator Shaun leaped forward to stop the door, screaming as he shot out a hand.
It was too far gone.
The gap was barely an inch. There was no chance.
It was too late. He was too slow.
The muzzle spoke.
Shaun crashed into the metal door just as he heard two shots ring out.
‘No! Nooooo! Arrrrghhhh!’ Shaun slammed his fists against the door as the elevator descended. ‘Arrrghhh!’ His scream was pure agony. Unbelievable pain, terror, sickness. He slammed his fists on the door again, slammed them as he sank to the floor. SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!
The lift continued downwards, uncaring. Tears and saliva streamed from his face as the horrific moment replayed again and again. Shaun Strickland had just seen his wife die.
Shot.
Murdered.
Real.
CHAPTER 15
The elevator was unbearably slow. Screaming hysterically and kicking, bashing at the door, a small-town school teacher was reduced to a primal, roaring beast. Chemicals and hormones flooded his system and all functionality broke down. This was shock. This was terror. This was hysteria. This was real.
He lay on the floor kicking the door, trying to pry the inner lining open with his fingers and gurgling in desperate sobs. The elevator moved on steadily, uncaring. It travelled from the ninth floor to the ground floor where the lobby and emergency entrances were located.
Ding, ding, ding … it was taking an eternity. He reached up and hit the buttons for all the floors until the bottom, but his trick had worked, and the lift sailed all the way down without stopping. He watched desperately as the floors ticked away.
Bzzzzzzz, ding, bzzzzz, ding. He stood up and paced in the small room, staring at the lights, willing them to move down the levels faster.
‘Come on!’ he screamed at them. Level Three … Bzzzzzzz, ding … Level Two … Bzzzzzzz, ding … Level One.
It had taken less than a minute, but it was the longest journey of Shaun’s life. Slowly the elevator decelerated and gave a jolt as it stopped. The door finally opened to a lobby full of administrative staff, patients and visitors, all milling around, oblivious to the single most devastating event in Shaun Strickland’s life. The door stayed open. It had been agony coming down, but now he had to go back up.
Finally the segmented metal sections began to slide from within one another to seal the small room.
‘Young man!’ Shaun heard a middle-aged woman call as she marched over to the elevator door. ‘Young man, you hold that lift for me right now!’ Her tone was insistent. He didn’t react. ‘I said, hold that lift!’ The woman, dressed in a suit and clopping her high heels on the hard tiled floor reached her hand in to stop the doors closing.
Sensing a blockage in its path, the door began to open again. This caught Shaun’s attention.
‘Now, step back, I have a very important—’ WHACK! She was silenced by his palms slamming into her chest, knocking her backwards out of the elevator and onto her backside. He pressed the close-door and ninth-floor buttons and stared back up at the level indicator, willing it upwards.
Bzzzzzzz, ding! Level One. The lift stopped, the doors began to open—
‘What?!’ he screamed. Then he looked at the buttons on the inside panel. He had pressed nearly every floor on his way down in an effort to get the elevator to stop. It hadn’t responded on its way down, but it was responding now. The elevator was going to stop at every floor, then take about twenty seconds to go through the ritual of aligning, doors opening, staying open, closing, then starting to move again. He didn’t have time for that.
In frustration, as soon as the doors opened on Level One, Shaun burst out into the hallway. He crashed into an orderly who was wheeling a bed c
oming the opposite way, barrelling the man to the floor.
‘Jesus, man, watch out!’ the small, black Londoner said, looking up from the floor where he had landed.
‘Stairs!’ Shaun commanded in a tone that took the man off guard. One look at Shaun’s white, tear-streaked face and the orderly pointed.
Shaun ran, slipping and crashing, as fast as he could to the stairwell. He took them four at a time, reaching out and pulling hard on the handrail. Sweating, heaving and panting, Shaun flew upwards. Step by step, flight by flight, he headed up. People moved out of his way, hearing him coming like a crazy man on the loose. He didn’t care. He was focused only on reaching the next platform at the top of the flight of stairs. Up, up, up. His thighs burned, but he pushed harder.
His right hand reaching at the handrail, his left hand swinging hard, Shaun Strickland was possessed of strength of will that few men experience in their lifetime. He could not lose her. It was all that mattered.
Fifth floor … sixth floor … The horrific moment replayed again, as it would thousands of times to come. His angel, his love, his safely sleeping wife … BLAM! BLAM! Seventh floor … The details, all the details. So sickening. She didn’t even have time to see it. She was dreaming. How could no one notice? Why didn’t they notice? How could a man walk straight up to a patient and shoot her?
Eighth floor … God, come on, legs! They were failing him, all their stores of energy gone. Adrenaline surged again … so close.
Ninth floor. He fell at the top of the stairwell and burst into the hall. The diary spilled out onto the floor. He absently grabbed it and dragged his burning legs towards her bed, moving frustratingly slowly as his limbs refused to work. He staggered around the corner to the elevators.
BING! The light blinked on, and the metal door slid open. It had arrived at the same time he did. The irony was wasted on Shaun as he passed through the ward. He barely noticed as he tucked the diary into the back of his pants, moving again towards Lauren.