by N. M. Brown
Children started screaming and Echo could hear the woman’s villainous rant above the chaos, the stray bullets whizzing overhead. “You bitch!” she cried at Echo. “How dare you! You think you can steal my husband? I know you’re sleeping with him you slut! He was mine you bitch!” She screamed on repeat.
The gun kept firing and Echo tucked herself lower behind the small, smelly park bin, praying it covered most of her body. She was just planning her escape route, her head darting out from behind the bin to get a good look, when large hands grabbed her, tucking her back away.
“Are you crazy!” McQueen snapped. His gun was out, and he kept his eyes trained on scene unfolding. “Keep down.” He ordered before giving her a bewildered sideward glance. “How is it you always have someone shooting at you?” He snapped, glancing up to judge the situation.
“Well you know what, if you dislike this situation as much as I do, shoot her!” Echo snapped and risked peeking over the edge of the bin.
Echo would have personally shot the bitch by now, but the guy hesitated. “I can’t. There are too many children around.” He snapped and Echo could have throttled him.
“It’s a fucking crazed woman, with a gun in a fucking play park! Shoot her!” Sat hiding like this was infuriating, but Echo was sure as hell no getting shot again.
Once more, McQueen peeked over the edge of the bin and must have seen an opportunity, because he suddenly took aim. Voice loud and clear, he called out, “This is Detective McQueen of the Rippling Police Station. Put the gun down and your hands up or I will be forced to shoot.”
Echo took that moment to take a look herself and was surprised to see the woman had pointed her gun at one of the Dads from early. Echo only recognised him because she’d spoken too him earlier, but now he was kneeling, his body shielding his son, while the woman – who Echo could only assume was the crazed wife – loomed over them both.
“Put the gun down madam, or I will be forced to take action.” McQueen called again. Looking around the park, Echo could see many of the adults cowering with children wrapped in their arms. Gun violence wasn’t common in England and in a sleepy town like Rippling it would be unheard of.
Switching back her attention, Echo watched at the woman rocked on her feet, whatever rage inside of her boiling to a point. “Why? Why did you cheat on me? Was I not good enough? I was your wife!” She asked her soon-to-be-dead husband causing her son to cry even more. If Echo thought Anna didn’t have any maternal instincts, it was nothing compare to this freak.
“Just shoot her.” Echo hissed, feeling something icky and wet pooling under one of her hands.
“I can’t. She hasn’t provoked the necessity!” McQueen answered, but it was the wrong time to answer because for that split second he was talking to Echo, the woman spun, firing off shot after shot in their direction.
An animalistic growl exploded from McQueen’s lips and Echo instantly smelt the copper tang of blood. Back hitting the dirt path, Echo watched at McQueen gripped his arm, seeing blood pool across his brown coat from where the bullet had hit him.
“Shit. Queenie.” Echo reached for him, to do what she didn’t know, but as another bullet ricocheted off the metal bin, her hand reached further and scooped up his dropped gun. Light on her feet and quick as a cat, Echo sprang herself next to McQueen and looped his good arm around her.
“Echo-…Ah,” He groaned, resisting slightly before crouching on his feet. “You got to stay behind cover.” He hissed, trying to pull her back down.
Ignoring his request, Echo straighten her arm and let loose a burst of bullets, aiming for the general area where the woman had stood. She was only ten feet away and Echo had a good aim, but McQueen’s weight pushed her off balance and she missed. More importantly however, the woman flinched and that gave Echo all the time she needed.
“Run.” She hissed, crouching quickly, her breath coming out in short gasps. “The next time I fire at her, we run for the trees.”
“No.” McQueen gasped, shaking his head. “No, we have to stay and protect the families here. I’m a policeman Echo, I can’t run from a crime!” Whatever, shock that had paralyzed him before, must have been wearing off and the adrenalin was kicking in, because he was taking more and more of his own weight.
“Trust me Queenie.” Echo said, her tongue feeling heavy has she spoke. “Us being far away from the party is the best and only option right now.” A look of confusion crossed McQueen face, but Echo didn’t give him time to ask.
Waiting for the next pause, Echo popped up and shot directly at the woman, her figure closer now. She kept firing all the while her feet propelled her backwards towards the woods and only after a moment’s hesitation, McQueen followed, fleeing towards the woods. Continuing to fire, Echo squeezed the trigger over and over until the chamber clicked empty and she threw the useless weapon aside. If she’d hit the woman she didn’t know, but she was beyond caring.
Open grass became light trees, which flowed into denser woodland. The park’s path pounded beneath Echo feet and she could still hear shouts behind her, sounding further and further away, yet Echo kept running. The park path soon turned and wanted to loop back around; back to civilisation and the horror show they’d left behind, but Echo blasted on, her feet slipping easily on to dying leaves and broken twigs. Twisting around trees and holly bushes they ran; over stumps and diches until she leaped one ditch too many.
Falling through the air, Echo rolled, her entire body flipping head over heels as she tumbled down the steep bank. A muffed grunt followed by a collared scream sounded as McQueen did the same, his hard body crashing down with a painful thump.
“Shit!” Echo huffed, pulling herself out of inch thick mud. Hands gloopy, she stupidly tried to whip away the grime but only spread it further. “God, fucking damn it.”
A strangled groan came from the hunched heap, McQueen having had better luck than she did. He’d miraculously flown over the edge and simply slid the entire bank down on his ass. He was all clean except the underside of his trousers.
“What in the holy mother’s name…” McQueen vexed; his annoyance clear. “What were you doing; running with your eyes closed?” Looking to Echo he seemed to miss the fact she was also covered in mud.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I did. Ran blind through a forest just hoping to find a Spa at the end.” Echo snipped, pulling herself to her feet. “No Spa unfortunately, but you know, this mud bath its terrific.” Shaking her arms, Echo was pleased that larger chunks flew off and splattered McQueen pristine shirt.
Angry silence filled the bank as Echo looked around a saw to her dismay they had stumbled into the bottom of a smelly, slimy riverbed, the steep sides towering either side. “Well we can’t have fallen far from the path.” Starting up the hill, Echo found good grip, until one rock slipped under her shoes and sent her sliding all the way back down. “Mother fucker!” She snapped, looking down at her soaked clothes.
“We’d be better walking along the bed until we find a softer incline.” McQueen said as he stood struggling; his teeth gripped in pain. Clutching his arm, he slowly pushed back his ripped coat sleeve to reveal lots of blood. “Shit.” He hissed and quickly shrugged off a shoulder to take a closer look.
Echo fringe interest but more so to see what the damage was. “Is the bullet still in there?” She asked, watching as he pulled apart the sticky, bloody shirt.
“No- ah, … No, it’s just a graze.” He hissed.
“Well suck it up, baby.” Echo scoffed and began walking along the riverbank. “If we stop moving, that crazy lady is going pop us one in the ass.” But as Echo started to move, the damp, smelly water seeped into her shoes. With a strangled cry of frustration, she fell back for the last time, the wet leaves sloshing under foot.
“Why does she want to kill you anyway? Is there any husband you haven’t fucked?” McQueen asked, and flinched as he tenderly poked at his gunshot wound.
“No. I don’t know why she had it out for me.” Echo answered,
dragging in a deep breath. She expected McQueen to go into a spiral of ideas and theories, but as she glanced over, he was giving her a hard look. “Look, I don’t know. I don’t know what I could have done to make her so-… so-…”
“Envious.”
Echo’s lips trembled as she tried to pull out another descriptive word, but her heart sank as the description hit home. “She wasn’t… Even if she was envious…”
But Echo couldn’t finish. This woman had been wild with jealously and on a killing path for Echo… That wasn’t a test. For the street beating, Echo could have fought back the way Mara had taught her, with the vintage bottle of wine, Echo’s knowledge of antidotes and herbs could save her. She had to be quick and smart; easy tests she could complete. As for Samantha, it was as simple as making sure her lust didn’t overwhelm her or let her lose control. But this…
This was straight up murder.
“There’s no proof this has anything to do with me.” Echo rubbed her muddy hands trying to get rid of any dying foliage.
“Proof? You were shot at! What more proof do you want?” McQueen called, drawing her from her spiralling thoughts. “Echo, this was because of you. There were children in that park? They could have been killed!” He cried.
“You just don’t get it!” Echo huffed, calming her nerves down, only to tense as she heard a branch snap. A fat, heavy bird or a deranged killer? Ignoring the slope, Echo sighed as she felt the sweat cool on her skin. “You don’t get it Queenie.” She repeated.
“Whether I get it or not, it doesn’t matter.” He stated, pulling out his phone. “We just left a mass shooting. You fired my gun! I can’t believe the mess that we just left behind.” Holding it high above his head, his face was illuminated by the light of his phone as he swung from left to right. “Damn it! There’s no signal out here.”
“Boo-hoo. Your big savour Hale isn’t coming. Whatever will you do?” Echo mocked and stomped off down the riverbed aiming for the large piles of leaves, hoping they’d keep her out of the mud. They didn’t.
“We’d better find a way out soon.” Echo heard the distinct sound of error-beeps as McQueen continued to find no signal. “I'm sure there are Officers at the park by now.” He continued to mutter.
Finding her shoes were already destroyed by the mud, Echo let out her frustration by kicking up the leaves and dirt. McQueen was just on a downwards spiral of guilt and somehow, she was sure he’d blame her. Kicking up more leaves she felt her anger grow.
There had to be a thinly concealed test within Twilight’s game. The woman had attacked her with a gun, envious that Echo had spoken, and allegedly fucked her husband. Clearly the guy was cheating with another woman, and Echo had just been in the wrong place wrong time. Maybe she was meant to cross paths earlier, or maybe she was meant to-
“Ouch.” Echo growled as her foot connected with something hard. Stumbling to a stop, Echo frowned as beneath the rotting orange’s, vomit yellow’s and dying browns, she saw the unusual splash of blood red.
“What? What is it?” McQueen asked as he bumped into the back of her. Dipping down, Echo picked the object up, turning it over and examined it from every angle. McQueen quietened and he looked over her shoulder.
Holding the object at arm’s length, Echo sneered. “What did the report say the Mitch kid was wearing when he was taken from the school?”
Eyes still locked on Echo’s hand; McQueen fumbled through his notes. “A… -… a grey t-shirt with a dinosaur on it, jeans and…” McQueen’s eyes flickered up, “And red trainers.” He breathed the last words. Together they marvelled at the dirty, mud encrusted red trainer. It was new; small and chunky, like the knock-off design that wasn’t meant for small feet. “I’ll be,” McQueen whispered with a smile.
Together, both Echo and McQueen looked up and around, spotting at the same time the squat, concert box built into the side of the bank. “What is it?” Echo asked, walking closer. As she did the fowl stench of stagnant water and rotting decay filled her nose.
“It looks like an old service entrance.” McQueen stepped up and inspected the structure. “It look likes it leads to some old sewage tunnels or maintenance. You think they took Mitch down there?” He asked.
“Could have done.” Looking at the shoe again, Echo tossed it aside. McQueen let out a strangled cry, something about it being evidence, but Echo walked up to the door instead. “Let’s take a look?” The metal door creaked. Aged with rust and caked in grime, it took very little effort to knock it off its hinges. “Well, that was easy.”
Looking down the dark tunnel beyond and the chilly, air stirred. There was no sound that reached them and even Echo was hesitant to step closer. “I need to call this in,” McQueen said, once again pulling out his phone. “I’ll call the Station and we can cordon off this area. We can get to Town Council on board, getting old building plans; we’ll need a map of course. Then search and rescue can explore the tunnel-… Jesus Christ! Echo!”
Echo, for a second was touched by McQueen's worried voice, but she quickly threw it from her mind as she scampered down the dark tunnel. Broken bits of rubble and trash had piled up along the corridor, wet papers and large, soggy matrasses blocked her path. There was graffiti all over the walls and encased it total darkness, Echo came to a bared door, its steel rods unmoving.
“It’s a dead end.” She called back and gave the door an extra rattled for inquisitive sake. She even pulled at each rod to see if there was one loose, but no luck. Huffing, she turned to retrace her steps when a large, dark shadow dropped over her and she was moving be for she realised.
“Woh!” The shadow cried, arms going up to defend as Echo struck with lightening fists. “Echo, chill!” McQueen cried as he warded off her attack. “It’s me.” Slowly, Echo’s eyes readjusted and saw the wide frame of McQueen. His phone torch was on and in the new white, light he looked ghostly. “How many times have your family tried to kill you?” He asked, his voice full of worry.
“They are not trying to kill me.” Echo snapped and pushed back out towards the exit.
“Fine. How many times have they ‘tested’ you?”
But Echo just shrugged, feeling her pent-up humiliation beg for an outlet. As she walked away, her legs lashed out, kicking rubbish and empty buckets aside. “I don’t count. Do you count how many questions you have a on a test?” She threw over her shoulder.
“Actually, I do.” And Echo wasn’t at all surprised by this answer. “Fine, you don’t want to say, we’ll move on.” Catching Echo by the arm, he pulled her to a stop, their toes dancing on the edge of sunlight. “You said this was a dead-end, so do we think Mitch went down here or not.”
Feeling her heart rate slow, Echo reminded herself of why she was here; what she needed to achieve.
Sucking in a breath, she regretted it at once. The back of her throat burned with the rancid taste of the air and she coughed it out. Eyes burning, Echo straightened. “I don’t know. It’s more probable than anywhere else.” Pointing down to the rodded door, Echo allowed her mind to tick over. “The bars are too thin even for a child to slid through and it’s a straight shot corridor with nowhere else to go.”
Slowly her eyes drifted to the clutter in the hall: an old oil drum dusty with soot was pushed to one side, while the child size matters was propped against the wall. Planks of damp wood cluttered lots of space and Echo could now even see parts of a broken bike tucked under one pile of rubbish.
The further she looked, the more junk she saw and wondered how it all got there. A mattress bought for a son or a daughter, thrown away because it wasn’t needed any more, or because it was old and tired. The planks of wood; where they once part of a bigger construction, a bigger creation now longer useful. And the bike, without key parts, it couldn’t run. Did the owner even try to repair it, or was its just chucked in the river, to be washed away and drowned… Were all thing so easily discarded I life… Was she so easily thrown aside…?
“Echo, look at this?” In her daze, she
hadn’t been listening to McQueen – frankly, she hardly did – but coming too, she saw he’d dragged aside the mattress, revealing a small, roughly hole in the wall. “What do you think?” He asked, an excited notch in his voice as he asked the million-pound question once more. “You think this is where they’ve gone?”