Chained in Time

by David Waine

CHAPTER 21

  The fireball blew the front door and the living room windows out, sending a sheet of brilliant orange flame soaring skywards with a blast that brought panic-stricken people tumbling out of their doors for streets around.

  Flames seared through the passageway and burst through the open door into the living room, incinerating everything in their path. Within seconds, the entire staircase was ablaze; glass shattered, paint scorched and bubbled as the inferno engulfed the front of the house in its rage.

  “Fire bomb!” yelled Abberline into his handset as he fought his way from the car. “Hold your fire! They’ll be running out of the house. Don’t shoot the wrong one!”

  Leaving the handset hanging, he raced round the front of the car and heaved bodily at a wheezing Marcus Logan who was trying to extract himself with a haste that his body had not known for decades. Together they ran for all their worth through a crowd of surging police officers and panicking neighbours to the gaping, blazing maw that had once formed the front of an ordinary semi-detached house.

  “Fire crews and ambulances!” he shouted, pushing his way through the singed garden gate. They had been on station since midday because of his assumption that a bomb was likely. To his fleeting relief, he realised that both services had arrived before he had finished giving the order and that hoses were already being run out to douse the flames.

  Inside the house, the scene was, if anything, even more chaotic. By a happy twist of fate, Mr. And Mrs. Burnett, Joe's parents, had both been in the kitchen when the explosion was triggered, so the dividing wall had shielded them from the worst of the blast. PC Dawson, however, had no such luck. Having thought he heard a slight noise from next door, he had been right beside the front door and took the full force of the detonation. Little was found of him when picking through the wreckage the following morning.

  Upstairs, a frantic Rutter tore herself from the window and fairly threw the unhinged door off Marie's and Joe's bodies. Their arms were still around each other and a small trickle of blood oozed from Joe's temple, but they seemed otherwise unhurt. With a huge tug, she hauled the pair of them to their feet, where they stood, white-faced and shaking, before her. Then she drew her gun for the first time.

  “Stay here!” she hissed at Marie through gritted teeth. “I'll be just five seconds!”

  With that, she was through the door and out onto the smoke-filled landing. Instinctively, Marie made to follow her, but Joe caught her arm and forcibly held her back. They were joined by her parents and Sally, all of whom had been knocked to the floor by the blast.

  “Are you all right?” gasped a devastated Mr. Kelly to his daughter. She nodded mutely.

  “Staircase has been carried away by the blast,” announced a besmirched Rutter, returning through the smoke. “Ground floor is ablaze. Listen to me, all of you. If we don't get out of here now, we're trapped. Landing window. Garage roof. Has to be.”

  Hollow-eyed, they stared at her, but she stared only at Marie. “It's our only chance, Marie. Whether he's waiting for us out there or not, we have to take it. This room will be gutted in minutes.”

  Although shaking uncontrollably, the girl managed a single nod and Rutter gripped her elbow in acknowledgement.

  With a quick jerk of her head, she beckoned them to follow her out into the smoky orange haze that was the landing. As they stepped out, a wall of searing heat hit Marie as she saw the wreckage of the staircase and the gigantic flames that were already scorching the ceiling of the stairwell. From here the roar and crackle of destruction was much louder. Only the top three treads remained intact, the remainder having collapsed in a blazing heap in the passageway.

  “Joe! Marie! Are you all right?” a voice yelled from the roiling smoke below.

  “It's my dad,” cried Joe. “Dad! We're okay!”

  “Get out through the back door, Mr. Burnett!” commanded Rutter in a voice that brooked no argument. “You can't help us here. Don't worry, we can get out!”

  Marie saw a vague movement in the smoke as a coughing Mr. Burnett acknowledged the command and turned to go. In his place a powerful jet of cold water smashed into the passageway through the hole where the front door had once been, adding the hiss and cloud of steam to the chaos already reigning below.

  The landing window was only a couple of steps away and Rutter had it open in a moment, scorching her palm on the handle as she did so.

  “Right,” she said grimly, head turned back towards them. “I'll go first. When I call, Marie follows and stays with me. The rest of you follow her and get down as best you can.”

  Putting her head cautiously through the window, Rutter checked that the garage roof was clear. It was. Cautiously, heart hammering, she slid a leg through the opening and eased her whole body through onto the roof beyond. No figure loomed out of the darkness to finish her. Her breathing became momentarily easier. Safely on the roof, she checked round. Wherever the beast was, he wasn't there.

  “Right, Marie,” she said, arms outstretched, “You next.”

  Trembling, Marie began to climb through the window, helped from behind by Joe. A moment later she stood by Rutter on the garage roof, clinging to her minder.

  “Not so tight, Marie,” murmured Rutter. “I might have to move fast.”

  Rutter kept watch as the others let themselves out through the window, Joe next by himself, Mr. Kelly handing his wife through to Joe and then following under his own power. Sally emerged last of all. The policewoman could see a throng of people at the front gate being held back by a cordon of police while luminous jets of water streamed into the living room. A huge new blast of flame blew out the window of the front upstairs bedroom, that of Marie's parents, rolling in a vast orange and white ball to a black sky. Figures in the front garden instinctively threw themselves flat before scrambling to their feet and pressing on. That would be Abberline, she thought. Powerful lights flashed on from neighbouring buildings and the roofs of vehicles, flooding both gardens with light.

  “RUTTER!” Abberline's voice cut through the confused sounds like a hot knife.

  “Garage roof, sir!” she called back. “Under control.”

  Another voice reached her ears, this time from behind. “The back garden's clear! Come this way!”

  “That's my dad,” said Joe.

  “Hurry!” yelled Joe's mum.

  “We're coming through!” cried Abberline, making for the side path past the garage into the back garden.

  Cautiously Rutter let herself down from the roof into the back garden where a sooty Mr. and Mrs. Burnett waited to help. Checking round, she ascertained, as best she could, that the garden was empty, and then turned to assist Marie.

  “Jump, Marie!” she cried, “We'll catch you!”

  Marie needed no prompting. She had felt very exposed on the garage roof and was only too glad to launch herself from it into the waiting arms of Rutter and Joe's dad. Joe threw himself off straight afterwards, landing lightly and rolling on the lawn into a nearby flowerbed.

  Rutter and Mr. Burnett also fell under the impact of Marie's landing, rolling automatically. The girl was first to her feet. A strange calm seemed to have overtaken her now that the moment had finally come. As ever, the anticipation proved worse than the experience. To her vague bemusement, she realised that her panic had left her. Her insides were no longer churning and she found that she could think clearly without going to pieces under the pressure. She knew perfectly well that she might die horribly at any moment, yet somehow it no longer seemed to matter. The sheer irony of it almost made her smile. Looking around calmly, she saw Rutter struggling to her feet, gun in hand and shouting something at her, but she could not make out the words. There were other people in the garden, falling over one another in their haste to come to her defence. There was that Superintendent — Abberline. He was also shouting something that she could not hear. Dear little Mr. Logan was behind him, his attention riveted on something behind her. Her father was on his feet by
the back door, he and Joe's parents helping her mother down from the roof. Other figures were appearing from around the garage, all moving in a strange, unreal fashion, like watching a film in slow motion with its sounds vague and indistinct. She could sense the approach of an intense light, a light that would envelop her and heal all her ills now and forever, a light that would deliver her into peace at last.

  From nowhere, black arms wrapped themselves round her body and a powerful force dragged her into the shadow of the large tree at the back of the garden. They held her like a vice and, struggle as she might, she knew she was powerless to resist. Her whole body went rigid. She could see his left hand holding a home-made contraption with his thumb on a switch. She could feel the keen edge of the blade against her bare throat. She could smell the sweat on his face and feel his hot breath in her ear. Another bitter smell reached her nostrils. He was panting and he had wet himself in his excitement. All vagueness left her and the cacophony of chaos stormed back into her ears.

  “ARMED POLICE OFFICER!”

  Rutter was down on one knee, her weapon, held in both hands, trained rock steady on her captor. Several more guns aligned themselves on the pair, caught in a searchlight's beam against the tree. Marie began to shake as terror took her. She was facing a firing squad!

  She saw a tall figure lurch out of the crowd. Her father was about to launch himself on the Ripper.

  “STAY BACK!” yelled Abberline, physically hauling Mr. Kelly back into a crumpled heap on the lawn. “You can't help here!”

  Her father stared at the policeman, aghast, but Abberline ignored him. His eyes were fixed on the figure in black with Marie Jeanette Kelly in his clutches.

  “NICHOLAS TRENT!

  Marie felt the man tense, the knife quivered. “That is not my name,” he answered in a hoarse monotone.

  “It may not be yours,” replied Abberline, “but it’s the name of the body you are in. Put it down, lad! Let her go!” his voice was calm in the sudden silence as he stepped forward onto the lawn.

  The Ripper laughed contemptuously. “Don’t fool yourself that you can stop me now, Abberline. I know where your squads are. They can't shoot me without killing the doll. I’ve beaten you all the way and now I win the game.”

  Abberline nodded slowly, hands spread wide, struggling to keep the disgust from his voice. “Yes, you win the game, lad. I'll concede. It's over and you've won. Leave it now and we can all go home. Let her go.”

  For a small moment, the Ripper seemed undecided. Then Marie heard his sharp intake of breath as he tensed himself to deliver the killing slash through her neck. Involuntarily she clenched her teeth.

  “LEAVE IT, LAD!” Abberline's voice stopped him dead. “You can’t get away. Don’t make it any worse. Let her go. She's done nothing to you.”

  “Do as he says!” cried Rutter. “Harm a hair of her head, and you’re dead!”

  A mirthless cackle slipped through the man's lips. “Don’t be pathetic, Constable. Do you really think I care about that? Everything ends this night anyway and there is nothing that you can do about it. Even if you kill me, you cannot save Mary Jane. She is mine and I take possession.”

  “Easy, Rutter,” muttered Abberline. “We were right. He’s got a bomb.”

  “Very good,” replied the man. “Better than last time. You're brighter than your great uncle, Abberline. I beat him easily. You were just a little bit harder, so I'll give you something back as a mark of respect. Save yourselves. It's going to get a bit messy round here in a moment. Get out while you can. Mary Jane and I have business to conclude.”

  Screwing up the final ounces of her courage, Marie forced a few bitter words between her lips. “My name is Marie,” she gulped.

  Intended or not, her words had their effect, for the man paused and his grip slackened marginally, easing the constriction on her throat slightly. Logan saw his opportunity and stepped forward to confront the pair of them.

  “Just a moment.”

  The Ripper saw him and felt he knew him. He hesitated. “What do you want?”

  “Only a moment of your time.”

  Karmic Bind! The words were familiar. He knew this man. He had met him before. “What is time?” he asked before he could stop himself.

  Logan smiled, a slow, gentle smile, and held his hands out from his sides to indicate that he carried no weapon. His voice had the soft, reassuring quality of a mother's as she calms her child's fears on waking from a nightmare. “We’ve been here before, haven’t we, you and I?” he said gently. “Time is an abstraction, which has lost all meaning for us both. Existence for you is an ever-repeating cycle, as it is for poor Mary Jane. I offer you release from your torment. Step out of the cycle and break the bind. Only that can release you — and only that can release her.”

  Marie felt the arm that held her begin to tremble. The keen edge of the blade scraped against her skin.

  “I cannot lose her,” the man was on the edge of tears.

  “You lost her a full century ago,” confirmed Logan, coming slightly closer, “and what you lost can never be regained. Look at her. Go on, look. This is not the girl you loved. Her grandparents were not even born when Mary Jane knew you.”

  Marie remained paralysed with fear within the man's iron grip, but she sensed a slight movement in his head as he turned his eyes to see what he could of her face.

  “This garden is full of light beyond Man's making,” urged Logan gently. “I sense it and you sense it too.” Marie certainly sensed it. It was all-encompassing. “Look into the light.”

  The man began to tremble. “I see the light,” he stammered.

  “Peace lies in the light,” returned Logan softly. “Put this horror behind you and embrace your destiny. Go into the light.”

  “No!” The grip tightened. Mary Jane did not feel the razor edge bite into her flesh, but she knew the trickle of blood well enough.

  Logan saw it too, a flicker of alarm in his eyes, and held out his hands in supplication.

  “I will guide you. Show me your agony.”

  All at once Marie felt a surge of emotion erupting from the man who held her. His grip tightened even more and the knife drew a fresh rivulet of blood from her throat.

  “NOOOOO!” he screamed.

  The pressure on her throat eased. The knife was held an inch away. She could see the hand gripping the handle and saw it tense to deliver the killing blow. She closed her eyes and willed herself into the light that burned brilliant and clear before her.

  Then a huge weight crashed into her back and sent her sprawling. The blade was gone from her throat and she was free, flat on her face on the lawn, the impact sending a shock wave through her entire body. Only vaguely aware, she saw Abberline and her father reach out to grab a hand each, hauling her manfully across the grass to safety. She rolled onto her back in time to see Joe on his knees from where he had landed after launching himself at the Ripper from the shadowy flowerbed where he had hidden, and the Ripper turn on him with weapon raised.

  A deafening shot rang out. Rutter had fired. Because he was now turned sideways on to her, the shot was not clean, but it caught him in the shoulder and propelled him forcibly back against the bole of the tree. The knife fell from his hand.

  Slowly, he slid down the trunk, leaving a dark, glistening streak in his wake. He was losing consciousness and he knew it. His vision was swimming, but he could see Mary Jane's face staring at him from her mother's arms. This could not be true. Mary Jane had no mother! Mary Jane had never had a mother. And yet there she was. Screwing his eyes up one last time he saw that the face staring back at him was not Mary Jane's. This was another girl altogether. Where was Mary Jane? Where was his love?

  Turning his agonised face to the heavens, he screamed, “DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!” and threw the switch.

  A blinding flash lit up the entire garden as a thunderous explosion shook the ground and snapped the trunk of the tree clean through. For an agonising mo
ment, it teetered on its shattered, charred stump before creaking with a deep inner agony and healing slowly over to collapse full on the house. It landed with a grinding crunch, bodies scattering in all directions, smashing clear through the back wall and ripping through Marie's flaming bedroom down into the kitchen. The house trembled and much of it collapsed in on itself with a deep tearing rumble and cloud of dust added to the smoke and steam.

  A moment of unreal silence followed the collapse before Abberline and Rutter cleared the fallen trunk with a jump while Logan clambered over, followed by a pair of paramedics, carrying medical kits.

  Marie lay in her mother's arms, a trickle of blood on her neck. Joe scrambled up from his position where the blast had thrown him, his forehead still bleeding. He had been closest to the man when he triggered his bomb and his ears were ringing. He felt as if he would never hear properly again. Shaking his head to clear it of the stars that still swarmed before his eyes, he came over and knelt before them.

  “How is she?” he asked nervously.

  “She'll be okay,” answered one of the paramedics, working quickly. “She got a couple of nicks from the knife, but they're surface wounds only. Nothing that a bit of sticking plaster won't put right. Let's have a look at your forehead.”

  “I’m all right, Joe,” she smiled faintly. “You saved my life.”

  Overwhelmed with gratitude, Mrs. Kelly left Marie to support herself for a moment and threw her arms around the boy's neck. Her husband gratefully extended his hand for Joe to shake. Mr. and Mrs. Burnett looked on, pride shining in their eyes. Sally watched in silence, joyful tears trickling down her face.

  Only then did the two families realise that Abberline, Rutter and Logan had also arrived.

  “And the Ripper?” asked Mr. Kelly.

  “Dead,” smiled Abberline. “Blown to bits by his own hand. Well done, Rutter.”

  Mrs. Kelly spoke to him through a film of relieved tears. “So it’s over?”

  Abberline suddenly looked absolutely exhausted. “As far as I can tell, it’s over. Mister Logan?”

  A relieved Marcus Logan nodded in agreement. “The bind is broken,” he said. “He saw that he could not complete the circle and finally chose the light instead. He is gone forever.”

  “And Mary Jane?” asked Joe.

  “Gone too. Released.”

  “Not quite,” said a distracted looking Marie. “I can hear her. She’s speaking to me.”

  “What does she say?” asked Abberline.

  Marie looked at him and smiled openly at last.

  “Thank you.”

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