by David Gullen
‘I’m with you.’ This was a plan that suited Novik’s mood, a chance to hit back, to hurt the hurters.
Benny and Marytha stood beside him. ‘So are we.’
‘Can you shoot?’ Crane said, then checked himself. ‘Of course you can. You’re Americans.’
St.John led them to where the wide stairs descended from the upper story. At his touch, a section of panelling slid away to reveal a reinforced door in a recessed metal frame. St.John pressed his hand against a sensor pane which glowed pale blue under his palm and said, ‘Mary had a little lamb.’
The door swung aside to reveal a room with a gun rack on the right wall and a fitted cabinet to the left. An open archway in the rear led to a descending concrete stairwell.
‘Help yourselves,’ Crane said and pulled a rifle from the rack.
Novik slung another rifle over his shoulder and pulled a pistol-grip pump shotgun from the rack. As he took the weapon he had a sudden vivid flashback of Josie: the wind in her hair, swaying with the speeding car as she had fired the Dude’s shotgun into the air. She couldn’t hurt anyone.
He thumbed cartridges into the gun’s magazine and wondered how different he was.
Marytha had armed herself similarly. ‘Still the best for close quarters.’
Novik gave a tight smile. ‘Just feeling sentimental.’
‘Then I’d hate to see you pissed off,’ Crane said.
Benny gleefully stuffed a satchel with light ordnance. ‘Sonic grenades, photonic disruptors, Tesla sprays, you got the lot.’
‘I also have these.’ Crane took down long reddish- grey coats from a high compartment. ‘Thermally neutral, knife and bullet proof.’
Novik put one on. Although heavy, it was supple and easy to wear. A pocket in the collar contained a hood and facemask. Lining the fabric, a close weave of silver mesh twinkled like mica.
‘Spider silk, titanium alloys and spun diamond thread. It’s ridiculously expensive.’ Crane gave a wry smile. ‘We call it mithril.’
Novik held a second coat out to Benny. ‘Put this on.’
‘I don’t need it.’
Novik’s face tightened, he grabbed Benny’s arm and shoved it into one of the sleeves. ‘Some people are a liability and some people are a pain in the backside. You’re both. Put on the coat.’
Benny suffered Novik to dress him, then tightened the belt. ‘You’re wrong about me.’
‘I don’t want you getting shot again.’ Novik saw the hurt in Benny’s eyes and pulled him close. ‘I don’t want to leave anyone else behind.’
‘Is everyone ready?’ Crane said, and saw they were. ‘Whoever is out there means me harm. First things first, I want my daughter safe. Getting even comes later.’ Crane looked straight at Novik. ‘Right?’
‘All right,’ Novik said reluctantly.
Crane put his hand on Novik’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, you just watch me do getting even. Now, let’s go find Ellen.’
Dressed in his long duster-like coat, Novik felt he was in a posse from long ago. Outside, the air was cool and fresh, the trees dark and silent. Somewhere in the forests of Million Pines were bad people. Perhaps they were involved in Josie’s death, perhaps not. Either way, Novik was ready to confront them.
‘We’ll get her back,’ Novik said.
Crane looked stricken. ‘By God, I hope so. All this–’ Crane’s simple gesture managed to take in Million Pines, his vast commercial empire, wealth and possessions. ‘Ellen’s all I’ve got.’ He turned to St.John. ‘Where is she, Raymond?’
‘Somewhere along the river trail. I can’t tell exactly, comms are failing.’
‘That’s Andriewiscz down on the border. He’ll sit there till this is over, pass on by and deny everything. Meanwhile, we can’t get out and we can’t ask for help.’
Crane led them into the forest, St.John at his side. Novik took the left flank, Benny and Marytha the right. They kept to this formation until they came to the place where the path died away.
‘Over here,’ Novik said. A set of deep, over-sized footprints led straight ahead.
St.John checked his map, ‘Ellen said the gunmen approached from upstream. That is, south and to our left. I am sure she would cut north before making for the lodge and so we should turn right.’
‘Agreed.’ Crane said.
‘Something is coming,’ Benny said.
A hundred and fifty yards away a robo-canine jogged through the trees. The machine creature halted, turned, and trotted towards them. The mini-gun mounted on its back panned from side to side.
‘Facemasks and hoods, quickly. And stand still,’ Crane said.
The robo-canine halted. The mini-gun swung in an arc covering the clearing, its barrel spinning at half speed.
Crane whispered at the edge of audibility. ‘These things work on infra-red and motion sensors. As long as we don’t trigger both, we’re invisible. If we wait, it will go away.’
The robo-canine shuffled its feet and obstinately remained where it was.
Novik studied the flat platform and jointed metal legs of the robot with cold loathing. Where were its weaknesses, where were the blind spots? The mini-gun was mounted on a flat platform of black metal, armoured power cables and ammunition belts fed up to the gun from a housing slung below. Mini-gun bullets had punched through the armoured Lexus, it was unlikely Crane’s costly mithril coats would protect them.
‘Why doesn’t it go?’ Crane gave a short, hysteria-tinged giggle. ‘Go on, shoo.’
‘Get a grip,’ Novik hissed.
‘It can sense the carbon dioxide in our breath,’ Benny whispered. ‘It can’t see us but it knows something is here.’
‘Christ,’ Marytha hissed, ‘what do we do?’
‘Shoot it,’ Crane said. He settled the grip on his gun. ‘Everyone get ready, on my count–’
‘Let me try something.’ Novik took a slow step towards the robo-canine, then another. The machine shifted uneasily and Novik froze. After a few seconds he moved again. The slowly spinning gun snapped round, aimed directly at him. Sweat trickled under Novik’s face mask, he hardly dared breathe. After an eternity the gun resumed its slow sweep.
Behind him, Novik heard exhalations of relief. With a soft whine of servos the robo-canine paced forwards, the mini-gun aimed straight at Crane and the others.
It’s the extra CO2, Novik realised. His companions’ breath had distracted the machine. Not daring to speak, he prayed they would realise what had happened.
The robo-canine was still twenty feet away. Novik edged forwards one slow step at a time, his legs trembling with tension. Finally, he was alongside the machine. The ugly six-barrelled gun span at chest height, Novik’s stomach muscles tensed at the thought of it firing. One more step took him past the arc of the gun, another brought him to the back of the machine. Drenched in sweat Novik turned to face his companions.
Attached to the rear of the gun was the feeder mechanism for the ammunition belt. Two quick-release catches secured the lid. Novik reached out but his hands shook so badly he nearly hit the spinning barrels. He clenched his fists, air trickled between his lips, he tried again.
All at once he was calm, a remote and dispassionate observer outside the moment. The robo-canine stood before him, pure in purpose and design, his companions held in the arc of its deadly gun. This was a tableau that could not hold forever.
He eased open the catches on the feeder housing, lifted out the ammo belt and laid it on the robo-canine’s back.
‘It’s safe,’ Novik said. The facemask muffled his words, he pulled it down. ‘It’s safe.’
Instantly the robo-canine scrambled round to face him. The mini-gun whirred at full speed, targeting dead on Novik. Through the forest came Marytha’s shriek of horror.
The gun’s empty feeder sprockets rattled and clacked, hammers struck against empty chambers ten times a second. Novik gave a savage laugh and sprang forwards. The robo-canine backed away, empty gun mechanism still clattering. Novik seized a corn
er of the platform and lifted one leg clear of the ground. The robo-canine scrabbled for purchase. Novik gave a great shout, and flung the machine onto its side.
Crane ran over. ‘My God. Talk about Grandmother’s Footsteps.’ He clapped Novik on the shoulder, ‘My God.’
‘Way to go,’ Benny grinned. ‘And you think I’m crazy.’
Marytha took Novik’s face in her hands and looked deep into his eyes. ‘You,’ was all she said, and flung her arms round him.
They looked down at the robo-canine as it futilely pushed itself round and round cutting circles in the dirt.
‘You must hate these things,’ Crane said.
Novik’s eyes were dark hollows. ‘I hate the people who sent them here.’
They pushed on into a steep-sided cutting that bottomed out in mud and leaf mould. On the far side flat slabs of limestone thrust out of the soil between sparse pine and larch.
‘The river is a mile away,’ Crane said. ‘We should see Ellen soon.’
Novik hung back as the others moved off. Away to the south he saw movement: a scattered line of armed men jogged through the trees. Before he could cry warning a shot to the chest punched him from his feet. Mithril armour set hard for a microsecond and the bullet’s force dissipated. Novik lay winded but unharmed. More shots from a different direction zipped through the air, a second group of men closed in.
St.John took cover beside a tree, his rifle at his shoulder. He fired twice and deep in the woods a man screamed.
A brief lull followed. Novik saw that Crane and Marytha had gone to ground in a scatter of low rocks and shallow depressions.
‘Here,’ Crane beckoned frantically from behind a tilted slab.
‘Go,’ Novik ordered St.John.
St.John dashed towards Crane in a scurrying crouch.
Small-arms fire spattered the trees around Novik. He gathered himself and sprinted for cover.
The Grey Ghost – Positive ID
Oh boy. We got him, we got an eye-witness. There’s no sound, so while you watch listen to Billy Spartacus, live from Cannon Beach, OR.
‘I was just down from the Haystack, around sunset when I saw a large car out on the sand. I went over because sometimes tourists get stuck and need a tow. Some days the tide just sort of slides in, there’s no real waves, it’s deceptive.
‘The car was empty, the beach deserted. I tried the door but there were no handles or pads. It was smooth as silk, a dark metallic grey and very clean, not a speck of dirt. I put my hand on the bonnet and it was cold.
‘I saw tyre tracks but no footprints except mine. Then I saw the roof was segmented like an armadillo and I knew it was that mystery car everyone was talking about – The Grey Ghost of the Highway. That’s when I started filming.
‘Seawater lapped at my feet and I backed away. As the sea touched the front tyres, the headlights came on.
‘The sun was half under the horizon, the sea a rich, silvery blue. A line of crimson-gold sunlight crossed the water from sun to car. The Grey Ghost just sat there, its headlights blazing out across the sea towards the sun. It was weird, like they were communing or something.
‘Then the car rolled backwards, swung round, and drove away. It didn’t make a sound, just tyres on the sand.
‘A minute later I saw it high up on the Overlook, silhouetted against the sky. It rounded the curve and its headlights swung out and round, like lonely searchlights. Then it was gone.’
– Viral post, reposted in BFBM magazine
- 58 -
Theodore held up a massive hand and halted. The faint sound of distant gunfire crackled through the forest.
‘Who is it?’ Ellen said.
Theodore listened intently. ‘It is not us. Two groups with guns are fighting.’
‘The Americans?’ Had Andriewiscz sent his soldiers to help them? It sounded wrong as she said it.
‘We will find out.’ Theodore moved forwards. ‘Quick but quiet. Now is a time for stealth.’
They kept in the shelter of an east-west ridge, then turned towards the sounds of fighting. Tension grew in Ellen, she had no weapon. Venture too close and once again she could become a target. The gunfire died away, then rose to a steady crescendo.
Bounding shapes flickered between the trees.
‘Theodore!’ Ellen cried.
He turned, a war arrow already nocked to his heavy bow.
It was Gretel and another lupine, this one male, each with a clutch of javelins in one hand. Both breathed deeply, eyes bright, jaws agape.
‘Palfinger Crane fights an enemy.’ Gretel pranced with excitement. ‘He stands at bay in a rocky redoubt, outnumbered and surrounded.’
‘Does he hold?’ Theodore rumbled.
‘For now.’
‘Is he hurt?’ Ellen begged. ‘Is he alone?’
Gretel went to her knee. ‘Lady Ellen, your father is protected by a magic coat. He fights with courage accompanied by two men, a woman, and one other.’
‘Save them,’ Ellen said. ‘Please.’
Theodore struck his chest. ‘We will. Already our brothers and sisters rally round.’
Gretel turned her gaze on Theodore, her mouth showed a toothy grin. She yapped once, and both lupines raced off, barely seeming to touch the ground.
‘Now is a time for haste.’ Theodore slung his bow and dropped to all fours. Ellen ran beside him, her exoframe just able to match his pace.
Gunfire crackled and spat from the far side of the ridge. Theodore’s brown-furred body rippled with energy. ‘I go to fight,’ he told Ellen. ‘Stay here. You are watched. You will be safe.’
Ellen touched his massive, furred arm. ‘Be careful.’
Theodore flexed his huge black-nailed hands. ‘No, Lady Ellen, I will be wild.’
And he was gone.
Alone, Ellen felt very exposed. No doubt lupines guarded her, perhaps an ursine archer. Nevertheless, she felt isolated, impotent and vulnerable. A mature yew grew nearby, the springy branches high and spreading. Using the exoframe’s strength she tore off a bough as thick through as a man’s leg then stripped off the side branches to form a heavy club four feet long.
Weapon in hand, she paced back and forth.
On the far side of the ridge a fan of brilliant red beams swept back and forth, then blinked out. Among the rapid fire of assault rifles a shotgun boomed again and again.
Ellen crept to the top of the ridge and peered over.
The far slope dropped steeply to open ground fifty feet below. A hundred yards further on, Ellen saw her father and four companions prone in a jumble of flat boulders. Two dozen gunmen surrounded them.
As Ellen watched, groups of three and four attackers fired and zig-zagged forwards. Something flew from Crane’s position and burst in a brilliant flash. Forks of blue-white lightning lanced in all directions, the gunmen writhed in agony and crawled back into cover.
Far to Ellen’s left a gunman cried out, flung up his arms and fell, slain by an ursine bowman. Other gunmen returned fire. Javelins flew from a different direction, rattled through the trees, and second man was struck. Her heart in her mouth, Ellen watched half a dozen lupines burst from cover and hurl themselves forwards.
A blond man crouched behind a large tree with a woman and a man incongruously dressed in a city hat and overcoat. The blond man dropped his rifle, drew a handgun and fired at the lupines. A huge explosion rocked the forest and the lupine attack was destroyed in a blast of flame.
The blond man fired into Crane’s position and another concussive explosion shook the ground. Shrapnel buzzed through the air and Ellen was forced back. When she looked again, Crane’s position was a scatter of stunned and crawling shapes. The blond man, the woman, and several others ran forwards, firing as they went.
A ragged fire resumed from her father’s position and the blond man’s group took cover. Where was the man in the city coat? Ellen scanned the ground and saw he had ducked and darted towards Crane’s flank, accompanied by three men with assault rifles. T
he main attack was a diversion.
In that moment Ellen knew her time of destiny was upon her. Here, in the heart of the forest, her father had come to rescue her. Now he was about to be killed.
What is a life for, if not to spend as you wish?
Fear and adrenalin trembled through her massive body. Blood pressure and heart rate alarms sounded, warning lights flashed. An incoming call chimed – Dr Chandra Smith on ultra-priority, his urgent voice garbled and distorted by interference.
Ellen settled the club in her hand.
‘Mute all, divert all,’ Ellen commanded and the alarms died. Chandra himself had admitted her ultimate fate. Days or months, what did that matter? Life, like good whisky, was not for keeping.
Down in the valley bullets flew. Ellen knew she was just a fat girl with a big stick. She felt incredibly alive.
‘Freiheit!’ she cried, and charged down the slope.
She was running at fifty miles an hour when she leapt across her father’s position. One and a quarter tonnes of hurtling flesh and metal.
Arms spread wide, Ellen looked down at the four attackers with gimlet eyes. Under her shadow, they looked up in apocalyptic amazement. She smashed down the first man before he could move. The remaining gunmen raised their weapons. Ellen lashed out with her long club and the nearest folded over with an explosive wet snap.
The second shot her twice in the chest with his rifle. She punched him as hard as she could and he burst.
The man in the coat and suit held a semi-automatic in each hand. His face twisted with fear and hate. ‘You fat ugly bitch.’ He emptied half a clip from each gun before Ellen snatched him up by his leg and whirled him shrieking over her head. She snapped her arm forwards and he cartwheeled away, high over the trees. Ellen realised his shoe was still in her hand. She glanced down and flung it away. His foot was in the shoe.
Ellen’s appearance was decisive. The remaining attackers fell back, lupine and ursine warriors cutting them down with bow and javelin. The blond man blasted his way clear with his handgun.