‘Car’s dead…we’re on foot,’ he shouts down to Thomas.
A perilous thing to do. A most stupid action to take, to run at the danger with rounds flying past their heads and bodies. Fire and heat everywhere. Ceiling tiles hanging down. Red lasers flashing through the smoky air. Voices shouting. Noise and chaos and every step seems to take a lifetime. Time slows, every action so clear and visceral.
Zara and Prisha run for room one while a black clad figure dives towards the door of room two with an explosive charge ready to be thrown in. If that charge goes it will blow through the walls to room one.
A round skims Prisha’s arm. Another grazes Zara’s thigh. Another hits the doorframe next to Allie, sending a splinter of wood into her cheek. Blood is spilled but still they scream to shoot back as Zara and Prisha dive for the door.
They reach the junction, turning into the lane they walked down yesterday. The ground harder, less muddy, less clingy. Speed gained with lungs bursting and legs hurting. Shouts behind them. Guns fired. Rounds whizzing past.
Bear slows for a second, turning to aim a Webley service revolver, pulling the trigger with a snarl to send six shots back at the chasing soldiers. He hits one, making the man drop with a scream as the rest scatter to the sides.
He catches up with the other two, pushing them on with hard vicious shoves to their backs. ‘RUN…KEEP GOING…’ his voice roars out, strong, deep and full of rage. He re-loads on the move. Taking the small bullets from the webbing pouches slung over his shoulder, pushing them into the little slots. He re-holsters that gun, re-loads another then pauses to fire both back at the chasers, once more sending them scattering.
‘There,’ Thomas spits the word, seeing the old barn ahead in the distance. He glances to Simmonds as though suddenly realising the man is still with them. ‘Oh, shit…Bear?’
‘What?’ Bear grunts.
‘What we doing with Simmonds?’
‘No idea…’
An immense application of energy and force. Zara and Prisha charging across the corridor as the explosive charge is thrown into room two, both knowing it will blow through the wall.
Bear, Thomas and Simmonds sprinting for the door to the old barn with rounds striking into the ground about their feet.
Zara and Prisha slam into room one together, whacking the air from their lungs. Blood running down their faces and arms from the splinters, ricochets and bullets skimming them, but they have barely a split-second to blink. The door to 1917 is right there. The door to Bear and Thomas. They have to make it.
Bear gives it everything he’s got. Propelling Thomas and Simmonds over the last few yards to the barn door using their combined body weight to smash through it. They hit hard, snapping the old wood in a shower of splinters.
The charge in room two detonates, supercharging the air that blows up and out, sending a pressure wave into the joining wall, blowing chunks of masonry into Zara and Prisha, lifting them off their feet to sail through to another time and place with flames licking their backs at the same second Bear, Thomas and Simmonds smash through the barn door.
All of them sprawling out over the filthy straw covered earthen ground. The noise of the explosion carries through for a second longer then simply ends, ceasing to be as the connection is severed and the door behind them once more leads to the storeroom.
Everything happening so fast. Everything on instinct. Prisha snatching a view of the room as she tumbles down. Bear the same. A strobing glimpse but enough to see five black-clad figures with ski-masks pouring into the barn through an old doorway giving access to another storage area. Now another portal. Another live link, but if it’s not to Discovery then it must be to Freedom.
‘AMBUSH!’ Prisha shouts the warning, snapping Zara’s head up to see the new threat as Bear rolls to vault up with a revolver gripped in each hand. The five figures in black react just as quickly. Snatching views to Zara and Prisha then over to Bear and Thomas. Instinct and reactional training kick in as they all surge towards the middle of the barn with weapons up and ready. Positioning to aim. Gaining locks on targets with steady hands and fingers pressing down on triggers.
‘Got one and two,’ Bear snaps, aiming his revolvers.
‘Third,’ Prisha shouts back, instantly understanding his order of view.
‘Got Bear,’ the black-clad figure closest to Bear shouts in a deep harsh voice.
‘Fourth,’ Zara shouts.
‘Lock on,’ a male voice in black shouts, aiming at Prisha.
‘Lock on,’ another yells out, aiming at Zara.
Two seconds and no more for every person holding a gun to find a body to aim at as they all come to a stop in a sudden stalemate with an intrinsic and absolute knowledge that if one trigger goes, they all will.
Zara and Prisha breathing hard. Their faces bathed in sweat and grime with cuts showing on their arms and cheeks. Bear coated in thick mud, splashes of blood and gore all over him.
‘Holy fuck,’ Thomas staggers to his feet, gasping for air as he tugs a revolver from his belt to wave round at the people in black. ‘Who do I aim at?’
‘The fifth one you twat,’ Bear snaps.
‘Fuck you…I shot a plane down,’ Thomas retorts, waving his gun about. ‘Which one is the fifth?’
‘My end,’ Zara calls out.
‘Got him,’ Thomas says.
A second in time passes. Everything on a knife edge and fingers pressed so hard a blink of an eye could set them all off. Bear takes them in, gauging position and distance. Working out where each will move when the bullets start flying.
Noises from outside. Footsteps moving down the sides and the clunks and clicks of rifles and weapons being made ready. ‘YOU INSIDE…’ a voice shouts. Rich, strong and cultured. ‘WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED…COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP…’
A stiffening from all sides. A tensing of muscles with knuckles growing white from pressure. The tension ramps. The air charging with threat and malice as the immediacy of the situation comes to the fore.
There’s only one way out now. It will happen. It has to happen. Bear readies, thinking to fire into the first two while moving right to take the other three, knowing he has to go fast.
‘We know you’re in there…Come out before we open fire…although personally I hope you stay there…’
‘I think we pissed them off a bit dude,’ Thomas says.
‘You think?’ Bear asks.
‘We’ve kidnapped a medic, crashed the General’s car and shot their angry deaf sergeant…’
A snort of air from a figure in black aiming at Bear. A blast of breath as though in humour, as though in jest. A hint of cherry blossom in the air and Bear’s heart thuds loud in his chest as he locks onto the hazel eyes framed within the mask. A second to absorb it. To realise what it means. To see the intent with her eyes that narrow and glint with mischief. A second and no more. ‘Now.’ A whisper given. Unheard by anyone else.
A blur of motion and the two of them move so much faster than everyone else. The woman leans back, flicking her aim over to shoot the fifth man in black as Bear’s two Webley revolvers fire into one and two who spin away from the impact, both plucking wild shots. The small figure drops and turns, aiming to fire at the fourth as Bear lets rip with his two revolvers and the last man flies off his feet from the force of three bullets hitting his centre of mass with the gunfire erupting so loud and awful in the confined space.
‘FUCK!’ Thomas shouts in shock at the speed of it. At everything in a blur of movement. Dead bodies on the floor. Shouts from outside. Ears ringing from the gunshots.
‘Jesus,’ Zara gasps. ‘What just happened?’
Bear stares across at the last figure dressed in black who just killed her own team. At the hazel eyes flecked with green. His revolvers coming up fast as he turns from his last kill. She moves too. Anticipating his motion, stepping left as he steps right. Bringing their guns to aim at each other while circling on the spot.
‘See me now,’ she whisp
ers the words he remembers so well. The mansion. The masquerade room. The taunt within her tone. Motion from his right. Figures coming through the door dressed in black. They both turn and fire and once more the bodies drop as they rotate to aim back at each other. Circling like wolves ready to fight or fuck. Ready to kill or mate. Ready for whatever happens. Both so poised within that second of pure life where every nuance and movement seems to mean something.
Neither fire. Neither back down until they complete a full rotation and she starts edging back to the door.
‘Bear!’ Zara calls out, aiming at the figure backing away. Prisha the same. Both ready to fire. Both ready to kill but seeing Bear holding still. Not knowing why, only that he is. The figure reaches the door. Her pistol still locked on Bear. Her eyes still glued to his. She moves a hand to her tac-vest and draws a tablet. A press of a button and she motions her head to the wall behind them. To the door leading into the storage room. To a door now leading to another location in time and space. ‘Fuck,’ Zara gasps, blinking at it, at what it means. She turns back to ask how. To ask why. To ask the questions always ready in her mind but the figure stares at Bear as she steps back through the doorway with a last whisper given.
Kill ‘em all, Tiger.
31
‘They’re all blown,’ the operative shouts as they hunker down at the far end of the deployment corridor. Thick smoke filling the air and the town of Discovery now in darkness.
Beatrice nods in response. Her face streaked with thick black camo paint. Her sub-machine gun held ready, but she spots the looks of worry in the others as they glance about. ‘I said don’t worry. Bear isn’t here. He’s getting buried in a crater in 1917. Got it? Now we’re punch out and take this fucking town. Kill anything that moves. Kill everything. GO!’
‘Fuck!’ Allie mutters, snatching a view down the corridor to the black-clad figures at the far end. Red lasers strobing out. Flames gripping the deployment rooms. Windows blown and she can hear the shouts from outside in Main Street as people run towards the noise and chaos. Towards the fires and explosions. Another snatched glance and she spots the figures starting to move.
It’s a simple plan. Freedom have obviously got a mole in the town and made sure to attack when Bear is busy on an overnighter, and the amount of firepower they’re laying down means the Discovery operatives can’t get to the armoury. They can’t slip into another time period and get weapons either because the deployment rooms are blown.
A simple plan for sure, but brutally effective.
‘ALLIE!’ Helmut shouts from the outer corridor. ‘Get down and find cover. We’re getting weapons.’ Helmut risks a lean into the door as more rounds slam into the wall and doorframe. Making him wilt back.
‘DRIVE IN!’ Beatrice yells out as the attackers start surging through the deployment corridor towards the planning office. The guns firing again. Peppering the walls with rounds. Shooting through windows to cause damage. To create carnage. To cause maximum fear and shock.
‘Schiesse!’ Helmut mutters, banging the back of his head against the wall. ‘SCHIESSE!’ he roars out and bursts out to go low through the door, diving to roll as the fire rate intensifies. Allie spots him coming and rises from behind a desk, firing her pistol into the attackers as Helmut scrabbles to keep moving. A scream from Allie as a round hits her arm.
‘ALLIE!’ Helmut runs for her, seeing her go down with blood spraying out. Snatching the pistol up to return fire while grabbing her wrist to drag her behind a desk.
‘TAKE THE FUCKING TOWN!’ Beatrice screams as they swarm into the planning office. Booting desks over. Smashing tables aside and rifle butts slam into the cabinet holding the RLI files waiting for deployment. Wrenching them out with liquid sprayed from a small bottle. A flame given. Another fire started.
The gunfire and explosions are heard throughout the town. Travelling far on the gentle wind and reaching the grand colonial house at the end of a tree-lined avenue. A fire burning in a hearth. A chair next to it. The window open and the Old Lady sips from a glass of sherry while listening to the detonations and gunshots with a look of intense concentration on her face.
‘FALL BACK,’ Helmut shouts from the planning office as the room starts swarming with figures. ‘GET OUT OF HERE…THERE’S TOO MANY,’ he yells to whoever is outside. Telling them to flee. Telling them to hide as he spots more figures streaming along the corridor running between the ruined deployment rooms. More figures dressed in black clutching sub-machine guns fitted with red lasers. More figures firing into the walls. Into the desks and computers. Blinding muzzle flashes. Smoke and heat from the growing flames now licking the holes in the walls. A dozen attackers already in the room. Another dozen coming and no doubt their link is live and ready to disgorge more into the fray.
The horror hits then. That there’s nothing they can do. The armoury is kept in here and the attack is too great. The town will be taken.
Jacob and Pete burst into the sheriff’s office to see Lars and Matias already taking shotguns from their gun cabinet. Matias looking stricken and panicked. Lars as stoic as ever as he throws shotguns over to Pete and Jacob. A box of cartridges and they set off through the door, back into Main Street. Back into the dark town where the glazed storefronts reflect the orange flames in the blown-out walls of the planning office. Debris on the road. Rounds pinging the tarmac from attackers shooting through the windows. An operative goes down, crying out from being shot. No time to stop. No time to give aid and the four men run on. Shouting out for the operatives clustered at the door to the planning offices to give way. To make room for them to get through.
‘There’s too many!’ someone shouts in darkened bedlam as the four men run through reception towards the stairwell. The ground floor door bursts open. Red lasers seen flashing. Something thrown.
‘FLASHBANG IN,’ someone shouts. The four men burst to take cover and get distance as every operative in the reception area cries out in warning. A huge boom. A blinding flash. Men and women fall back. Instantly disorientated by the flashbang. Another comes after it. Another bang. Another flash. The attackers press their advantage. Pacing into the reception having breached the planning office and taken the stairs.
‘Fall back!’ Jacob shouts out, firing his shotgun to cover the others. Lars takes his turn, covering for Jacob while wrenching a terrified Matias behind him. Pushing him away.
The rounds start coming back. Fast firing from automatic weapons. Rounds striking the windows and desk. Wood and plaster breaking apart. Glass shattering. Someone goes down screaming. They don’t know who. There isn’t time to stop and think. Only to react and retreat into Main Street.
Four shotguns and two sidearms. That’s all they have, and back they go. Beaten away by the ferocity of the attack.
In the planning office, Helmut drags Marco behind the desks where Allie clutches her bleeding arm. Marco still alive. Shot through the stomach and chest.
‘Shoot me,’ he gasps, grabbing at Helmut. ‘I’ll reset.’
Helmut casts him a look, shaking his head. ‘I’m out of rounds.’
‘KEEP GOING,’ Beatrice screams out from a few feet away. ‘We’ve taken the stairs. Get out into Main Street. I want the town. GO GO GO!’
Another dozen figures in black swarming through the corridor into the large room. Another dozen automatic weapons.
‘Schiesse!’ Helmut says.
‘Shit,’ Jacob says outside in Main Street.
‘Oh, shit,’ Thomas says in the barn in 1917 as they all turn towards the door to the storage room.
‘YOU HAVE THIRTY SECONDS,’ the voice outside the barn shouts. ‘THEN WE OPEN FIRE.’
And in the grand colonial house, next to the fire burning in the hearth, the Old Lady’s knuckles turn white as she squeezes the wooden arms of the chair. Her face a mask of focus. Her eyes blazing from the reflection of the flames.
In Main Street, Pete curses foully, spewing forth a foul tirade of words in French while the flames and shadows dance o
ver his features. ‘Again. Oui. We go again. We do this.’
In the planning office, Helmut nods grimly, locking eyes with Marco who grimaces at the pain as he slowly rises. Allie nodding at them both. Knowing what must be done. Knowing what they have to do.
‘TEN SECONDS,’ the voice outside the barn shouts out as Bear, Thomas, Zara and Prisha all stare at the door. Knowing what must be done. All of them knowing what they have to do.
The Old Lady inhales sharply. Her eyes narrowing. Her grip tightening.
‘WE DO THIS,’ Pete shouts in Main Street as he glares at the operatives taking cover. All of them knowing what must be done. All of them knowing what they have to do.
‘FIVE,’ the voice outside the barn shouts.
‘Ready?’ Helmut says to Allie and Marco.
‘FOUR.’
‘ARE WE READY?’ Pete yells.
‘THREE.’
‘I’m not fucking ready,’ Thomas says, gulping air in the barn.
‘TWO.’
The Old Lady’s chin rises. Her gaze hardening. Her breath held.
‘ONE!’
‘DEATH CHARGE!’ Helmut screams out as he rises from behind the desk with Allie and Marco.
‘Oh, you are shitting me,’ Beatrice groans.
‘DEATH CHARGE!’ Pete roars out in Main Street as the call is taken up and the road swarms with operatives giving voice as they charge towards the planning office.
‘What the fuck are they doing?’ the Freedom team leader says in the reception area, shaking his head at the sight.
‘FIRE!’ the officer outside the barn shouts as the rifles start up and tear chunks out of the wooden boards.
‘FIRE!’ the Freedom team leader in the reception area shouts as his team lift weapons to take aim at the ragged line of Discovery operatives charging towards them.
‘FIRE!’ Beatrice yells in the planning office as a dozen red lasers take aim at Marco, Allie and Helmut trying to charge across the room.
‘Hey douche bags!’ a shout from the deployment corridor. An American voice calling out.
A Town Called Discovery Page 30