Blood Kin

by Matt Hilton

  The further she progressed the less the electric system had been maintained. She came to a junction in the tunnel and peered into an adjoining corridor. In there it was total darkness. She cast around, seeking a switch and found only a cable that had long ago been chopped clean through. None of the lights worked from there forward. When she concentrated, she thought she could make out a graying of the darkness somewhere in the distance and thought it was where another corridor met this one. She began pacing forward, one hand against the wall to steady her. She passed open doors and others that were locked tight. None of those held her son, so she kept moving. Occasionally cobwebs caught in her hair, and one time they got in her mouth and she spat and wiped at them in revulsion. With each step the grayness ahead grew brighter. Finally she reached the intersection of the tunnel and one she found to be much larger than the two she’d just traversed. The ceiling was higher, the walls further apart. The ground was scuffed by the passage of feet and different pieces of equipment. She recognized this tunnel, though she had never been this deep inside the hillside before. To return to the cellar she must go left towards the loading bay in the bunker, then negotiate another couple of passages. Caleb had been determined to take her somewhere out of the way while beating the truth of Jacob’s parentage out of her. She supposed though, had she gone back the way he’d dragged her, her journey would have been shorter.

  She began trotting down the wider tunnel. There the lights were maintained, and she could see a good distance ahead. She could also hear voices again, but the previous clamor had lessened; there weren’t as many people and dogs near the entrance to the bunker anymore. She must still be careful; it would take only one person loyal to the Moorcocks to spot her and her latest escape attempt would end. Sadly for her, the majority of people in the community were loyal to the family, and the rest were plain terrified of the consequences if they weren’t.

  She dressed in flowing garments to conceal her shameful scars. Right then she silently cursed the way that they ruffled and flared around her. Though she ran as silently as possible her clothing swished and flapped, as if a bird was trapped within the tunnel. Ideally she should rid herself of the bulky garments for something more practical, but these were all she had access to. She paused to writhe out of her blouse – she’d already lost her shawl and scarves somewhere between Maine and here and was now down to her undershirt – and to reach down and pull the rear hem of her dress between her knees. She pulled up on the material, knotted it and shoved it into her waistband at the front, forming a pair of baggy pantaloons out of the fabric. When she moved on it was quieter and more to her satisfaction.

  Long before she reached the loading area at the front of the bunker, she discovered a side passage she’d never been in before. But its general orientation took her away from the voices and nearer her son. She went down the corridor, again surrounded by darkness, heading for a pinpoint of light some distance ahead. In the narrow confines her breath was a constant rasp she thought might carry to the ears of those in the loading bay. She progressed with her lips tight, trying to breathe shallowly through her nostrils.

  The passage exited into a square chamber. It was approximately thirty by thirty feet, and the ceiling was much higher than the tunnel’s, beyond the reach of her fingertips even should she jump. A large airlock-style door dominated one wall. The floor was buffed shiny because of years of footfall in and out of the vault. This vault, she knew, was out of bounds to all but Eldon Moorcock’s sons and a few of his most trusted supporters. Elspeth ignored the huge door and instead turned to peer down the main tunnel that led into the room. It too led towards the loading dock, although a turn in the passage a hundred yards or so distant obscured her view of it. There was no movement between her and the turn. She began moving, picking up pace with each step, glad to find that the volume of her breathing was no longer an issue. She reached the turn and paused. She bobbed a quick glance around the corner. The tunnel twisted once again, turning at a right angle towards the loading dock. The voices were louder now, but that was to be expected. There came a whine followed by a deep-throated rumble. Without seeing, Elspeth recognized the sounds as the huge bunker doors opening. Engines coughed to life. Some of the community’s vehicles were being mobilized. She briefly wondered what was going on outside: was the community under some sort of attack? She hoped that an FBI task force was raiding it, and she could throw her and Jacob at their mercy. She must rescue him from the cellar first.

  She slipped around the bend and paused again at the next, her back flat to the wall as she snuck a peek around the corner. There were two figures no more than twenty feet away from her. They were too intent on delving inside another room than to notice her. She knew both young men, they were brothers, whom she’d watched grow from children to adulthood and could have called them by their first names, but to do so would damn her. She ducked out of sight as the brothers emerged again from the room carrying rifles. They hurried back to the loading bay, to join, she understood now, a hunting party.

  She sent out a silent prayer of gratitude to her unidentified benefactor. For a second she entertained the notion that whoever it was had come to help her save her son, but who would do that and why? Nobody could know that they had been snatched and brought back here. Nobody except … no, she couldn’t hold out any hope that either Nicolas Villere or his partner Tess had figured out that they were in trouble and had traveled across country to try to save them. Elspeth had walked out on them when they’d offered to help, and for all they knew she had jumped on a bus and taken Jacob as far away from here as possible. That’s if they even gave her and her son as much as a second thought after they’d left; she supposed that Nicolas and Tess might feel that they had dodged a bullet when she’d refused to divulge who her son’s biological father was. Even if they suspected they had been grabbed, would they purposefully avoid seeking their whereabouts, and allow the issue of Jacob’s parentage to be brushed under the carpet?

  None of that mattered!

  She shoved aside any thoughts of a rescue party or otherwise. Saving her son was down to her alone. She rushed towards the room the brothers had recently vacated and peered inside. It was shelved on three sides and all the shelves were stacked with enough weapons and armament to launch an invasion of a small country. There were hunting rifles, assault rifles and even a couple of those boxy Uzi machine pistols made popular in the movies. Elspeth had no clue about shooting any of the larger weapons: she went instead to a shelf holding several different makes and models of handguns. There were pistols, but Elspeth found them too intimidating to handle, so instead she reached for a standard revolver. She had fired a six-gun years ago, and the revolver reminded her of its simplicity. She checked and found the chamber loaded with bullets. She shoved the gun into her waistband and concealed it under the material she’d bunched there. Using the gun would be a last resort.

  She checked outside before leaving the armory. There was still sound and movement in the loading bay, but most of the vehicles had already left, and now by the sound of things the last few stragglers were boarding a truck to join the chase. Some of them whooped and hollered as the pickup set off, high on excitement and without consideration of the consequences. The doors began rumbling shut again, meaning alas that somebody was still inside the bunker, manning the electronic controls. She padded down the tunnel aware that the least sound might now travel to the ears of who was still inside. There was a crossroads in the tunnel and she ducked to the right and hurried towards the holding room her son had dubbed ‘The Cellar’.

  Caleb didn’t deem it necessary to have a guard on the door. But having dragged her out earlier, she recalled him throwing the bolts to bar Jacob inside. As she got closer her heartbeat tripled in speed: the bolts were undone and the door stood open an inch. What a fickle twist of fate it would be if Jacob had already escaped his cell and she was unable to find him. She lunged towards the door and was about to tug it open when voices filtered out to her. She halted,
her hand creeping to the butt of the revolver stuffed down her skirt. She approached, by increments, listening for any clue who was inside the room with her son. She heard Jacob whimper something and that was all she needed to hear. She dragged open the door, even as she tugged out the gun and thumbed back the hammer.

  Jacob stared at her a second, open-mouthed with surprise. Standing with their back to her, the person looming over him with a stick raised in threat, was slow in responding to her presence: there was no possible way that Elspeth should have been there.

  ‘Get away from my son,’ Elspeth croaked in warning.

  Ellie-May Moorcock turned slowly to appraise her. The older woman’s lined face was the color and texture of tanned leather under the feeble light invading the cell. She didn’t lower her walking stick. She looked past Elspeth, obviously searching for her eldest son. It was a moment more before her gaze drifted to the gun in Elspeth’s hand. An emotion flickered over Ellie-May’s features, but it was not fear. She had spent too many years terrorizing the younger woman to fear her abused daughter-in-law even when armed.

  ‘And what do you think you’re going to do with that?’ Ellie-May smirked. ‘What are you doing here, anyway, I thought Caleb—’

  Elspeth ignored the old harridan, instead peering at her son. ‘Was she about to hurt you?’

  ‘Grandma said she was going to take her stick to me the way Caleb should’ve,’ Jacob whimpered.

  ‘Yes,’ Ellie-May snapped at Elspeth, raising the stick up over her shoulder, ‘and I’ll take it to you too, you willful bitch.’

  ‘No, Ellie-May, you won’t.’ Elspeth grabbed the stick and held it aloft. The older woman strained to yank it free, but Elspeth was resolute.

  ‘Let go, you worthless whore.’

  ‘That’s the thing, Ellie-May, you call me worthless but that’s fine. It means I’m nothing to you, and believe me, the feeling is mutual.’

  Ellie-May surged forward, trying again to wrench free her stick. She was a couple of decades older than Elspeth, a tad bent over, but she was strong and robust and potentially dangerous if they got in a grapple.

  Elspeth didn’t shoot.

  She clubbed the gun down on the old woman’s head, and Ellie-May squawked once as she collapsed at her feet.

  Jacob yowled in alarm. Despite what the old woman was about to do to him, it was still his grandmother he’d seen beaten down by his mom. He was confused, and he could even be forgiven for feeling some sympathy for his grandma. But Elspeth wasn’t about to dwell on her. She threw aside the walking stick, reached and grabbed Jacob. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ she said, and led him from the cell. She looked back. Ellie-May lay in a heap on the floor. For all she knew she could have hit her hard enough to crush her brittle old skull and Ellie-May was already dead, or she could be fading quickly. She couldn’t let the old witch perish!

  Actually, she could.

  Elspeth pushed the door shut and threw the bolts.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  ‘Are those bite marks in your jacket?’

  After escaping pursuit, Pinky had returned them to the hotel in Muller Falls. Their friend had retired to his room, giving them some space for a few minutes. It was Tess’s first opportunity to check Po over. He sat on the double bed, his fingers kneading his thighs. He glanced dispassionately at the holes in his sleeve.

  ‘Couple of mutts almost took me down.’ He raised his leg, showed Tess the ripped hem of his jeans and the teeth marks in his boot.

  ‘Have they broken your skin? You might need—’

  ‘I’m up to date on my tetanus shots.’ Working occasionally in Charley’s Autoshop, where cuts and abrasions were potential everyday injuries, Po protected himself from infections with inoculations.

  ‘I’m more concerned about rabies,’ she said.

  ‘They were trained attack dogs, Tess, not raccoons.’ He chuckled at the notion she’d put in his head.

  ‘Still, you could get a nasty infection if—’

  ‘Chill out, will ya, Tess? They didn’t break my skin. I got a couple of nicks on my face and hands running through the woods, but otherwise I’m fine.’

  ‘You’re limping.’

  ‘I’ll walk it off.’

  ‘Show me your leg.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Because from the way you’re rubbing your thigh it must hurt like crazy.’

  Po nodded. ‘I had to jump a fence to escape the dogs. I near speared my leg on a branch.’ He stood and shucked tentatively out of his jacket. Tess helped him pull out of the final sleeve. He grimaced, but hid his true discomfort from her. ‘Another branch got me good up my side,’ he admitted.

  ‘Let me see.’

  He raised his shirt, drew the material up almost to his ribs and hissed in pain. Tess took over, lifting the shirt up all the way to his armpit. She hissed too.

  A raw scrape marked him from his hip to next to his pectoral muscle. Some of the skin had been scraped off entirely, and the wound was dotted with dried blood. Each rib must have taken a beating.

  ‘There’s nothing broken,’ Po said to forestall her, ‘but it stings like a son of a bitch. My leg’s the same. Scraped up but, otherwise, I’ll live.’

  ‘I still want to check it out.’

  ‘I told ya, Tess, I’ll walk it off. One of those dogs got its teeth into my heel and tried to shake my leg out its socket. It messed up my knee and twisted my ankle makin’ that jump, too: I’m sore, but nothing’s broken. I’ll be fine to go back out there.’ He reached to retrieve his jacket.

  ‘No deal.’ Tess pressed him down on the bed once more. ‘We aren’t going anywhere until you’re cleaned up and I’m happy that you’re unhurt.’

  ‘The longer we waste here, the longer Elspeth and Jacob are in danger.’

  ‘We still don’t know if they’re even in the commune, Po. We are going to look like a bunch of idiots if it turns out they did get on a bus, and right now are sitting on a beach down in Florida.’

  ‘You know they’re there, Tess.’

  ‘I suspect they are, but we still have no proof.’

  ‘More’s the reason I need to go back.’

  ‘We will, but not until after the heat has died down. Right now you’ve got that place literally up in arms. If we go back now we’ll be walking into a shooting gallery.’

  ‘Now’s the time we should go back. It’s the last thing anyone would expect, right?’

  She shrugged. He did have a valid point. ‘I’m going to fetch some soap and water and clean your wounds first.’

  Po reached for her wrist. ‘Let’s save it for later, Tess. I can’t rest here thinking that boy’s bein’ abused again.’

  ‘He might not be yours …’

  ‘Does it make any difference? He’s a child, and the man who’s supposed to be his goddamn protector is the one stubbin’ out cigarettes on his bare skin. Jacob doesn’t have to be mine for me to want to save him, Tess.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, I get that. I just don’t want you getting up your hopes only to find out he’s not your son.’

  Po lay back on the bed, pushing his fingers through his hair as he exhaled. Tess sat on the mattress alongside him. She put her palm flat over his heart. It pounded like a trip hammer.

  ‘I genuinely don’t know how I feel about all this, Tess,’ Po said. His eyes were shut, but he held his cupped hands over them. She thought perhaps he was ashamed she might see him weeping. ‘You might not agree, but there’s a part of me that wants Jacob to be my kid, another part knows things will be much easier for us all if he isn’t.’

  ‘We’ll deal with it together, whatever the outcome,’ she promised him.

  He removed his hands and peered up at her. His turquoise eyes were clear and hard. ‘We have to save him first.’

  ‘We will.’ Tess patted his chest. ‘Don’t get up. I’m fetching soap and warm water.’

  Po got up regardless of her instruction. He tested his legs. His right ankle seemed to trouble him more than his other
leg, despite the left being the one attacked by the dog. Still, he nodded and told himself again, ‘I’ll walk it off.’

  Tess was happy to note he didn’t reach for his jacket again. She was confident she could go in the bathroom for a minute and be reasonably assured he’d still be there when she returned. The hotel was old-fashioned and twee in its décor: a good thing. It meant it had items to hand Tess would never find in a modern chain hotel. She found a ceramic bowl tucked inside a cupboard built to incorporate the washbasin and pedestal. She sluiced it under the warm faucet, then half filled it. She dug out a face cloth and sponge from the toiletries she’d brought from home. When she returned to the bedroom, Po had moved to stand by the window. He looked out over the front of the grounds towards the main road through town.

  ‘Those cops just went by in a hurry,’ he said.

  Tess set down the bowl of water.

  She joined him at the window.

  ‘D’you think they’ve been summoned by the Moorcocks?’ he asked.

  ‘I doubt it very much. The impression I got was they deal with their problems themselves and the cops are as unwelcome on their land as we are.’

  On the drive back from the riverside, Tess and Pinky had regaled Po with what had happened concerning the guards from the bridge.

  ‘You said something about those guards assuming you were looking for some missing fella?’ Po prompted.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Tess. ‘Some guy called … wait a minute …’ She racked her brain for the correct name. ‘Orson Burdock. No, Burdon. They said Orson Burdon.’

  ‘You said the cops spoke to the guards about him but they were brushed off.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Tess, and she lowered her voice to do a reasonable impression of the guard she’d interrogated. ‘“I told you, there’s no evidence Burdon ever set foot here”.’