Fire and Water

by Simon Guerrier

  It slowly dawned on Connor. He turned back in horror to see Becker raising his G36, pointing up close to the poor creature. The female held its head still for him, as if understanding and complicit. It lowed once, mournfully, the sad note picked up by the children trapped out in the rain.

  “I’m sorry,” Becker said, and fired.

  Connor turned quickly away. When he looked up, Abby was watching him, a steely look in her eye.

  “We had to,” she told him. “We couldn’t do anything else.”

  Connor nodded, knowing she was right yet still feeling wretched.

  “At least it’s no longer in pain,” he said.

  “Um,” Becker said from where he still stood in front of the huge Sauroposeidon. Abby and Connor turned to look.

  They watched in dumbfounded horror as the enormous beast scraped its way out of the tunnel, destroying the masonry, and thundered towards them.

  TWENTY

  “I’ll even go economy,” Lester said testily into his mobile. Danny watched, reading from his expression that this wasn’t an option, either. He finished the simple pasta meal Lester had made, wishing they’d had some garlic or chilli to spice it up.

  “No seats?” he said when Lester put down the phone.

  “No flights. All the UK airports are grounded because of the weather. They offered me something flying to Paris, but not till the end of the week — by which time God-knows-who will be running the ARC.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I want to string up the airport authorities.”

  “What do you want to do that’s practicable?”

  “Oh, that’s practicable. Just you wait and see.” Lester took a deep breath. “Change of plan.”

  “The oil mine.”

  “I think so. If Ted were here, I’d ask him to take us there now.”

  “He needed to get back. Pretend he never went out.”

  “So we go out ourselves.”

  “You told them they could shoot us.” Danny said, then corrected himself. “Well, you told them they could shoot me.”

  Lester blinked at him.

  “Are you really going to tell me you don’t want to break the rules?”

  Danny grinned at that.

  “Just wanted to see your face. But we need to finish up here; pour Ted’s beer down the sink, finish the caterpillars.”

  “Must we really?”

  “You heard what he said. He doesn’t share stuff with the new crowd. Gets quite ratty about it. So if they see that we’ve helped ourselves to his stuff, they’ll assume he’s ratty with us. It’s like a cover story. Keeps him safe.”

  They opened the cartons of beer and slopped them into the sink. Danny helped himself to the caterpillars, but Lester declined them with a grimace.

  “Think of them as scallops,” Danny told him.

  “Scallops don’t have spikes.”

  They arranged the empty cartons around their unwashed plates, presenting a tale of two British tourists drinking late into the night. They put their bags and belongings under the sheets on their beds, so that any cursory inspection would show them both sleeping. It wouldn’t convince anyone if they turned on the light, but they gambled that anyone checking wouldn’t want to make their presence known.

  Danny suggested that there might be someone watching the main entrance to the lodge, so they sneaked out the back and made their way carefully along the raised platform. The wood creaked under their feet. They froze, listening for a sign of anyone moving in response.

  The only sound came from elsewhere in the house, as the walls creaked in sympathy.

  “Come on,” Danny whispered, leading Lester on. He kept the sleeves of his leather jacket pulled over the backs of his hands, attempting to hide his pale skin from the moonlight. Lester had his suit jacket on, and followed the example.

  They reached the corner of the lodge, and Danny peered around at the car park. Sophie’s SUV stood alone in front of the door. Danny could see very little in the pale moonlight, so he listened, carefully.

  The wild was alive with strange and dangerous sounds, creaking and murmuring. The tall grass shifted from side to side, as though letting monsters pass through it.

  He took a step forward, his foot and lower leg exposed to anyone watching the front of the lodge. And he stopped still.

  Something about Sophie’s car didn’t look right. He tried to keep his breathing slow, his heart hammering in his chest. Gingerly he withdrew his foot.

  “Anything?” Lester asked, whispering, yet also too loud. He saw the expression on Danny’s face, and bit his bottom lip.

  Danny risked another look round the edge of the building. Now he saw figures crouching in the shadows on the far side of the car, maybe as many as four. And what he’d taken to be an antenna on the bonnet revealed itself to be the barrel of one of their rifles.

  He waited. He had no choice. He and Lester couldn’t go back inside the building, and they wouldn’t last half an hour out in the wild on foot.

  So he waited. And waited.

  His body ached with cramp and discomfort.

  Finally there was movement. The men behind the car stood up and Danny saw that there were in fact two of them, both armed with rifles. In the pale moonlight he could see they were tall, well-built and probably well-trained. One of them stayed by the car while the other made right for Danny and Lester.

  Danny quickly stepped backwards, and he and Lester pressed themselves back against the wall of the lodge, trying to merge with the shadows.

  The man stepped up onto the platform and they felt his eyes look over them. Danny knew they didn’t stand a chance if he saw them — the intruder had a rifle in his hands and they had nothing with which to defend themselves.

  The gunman waved to his companion, then continued to approach. He hadn’t expected to see anyone, Danny realised. He just wanted time to slip round the back of the lodge before his compatriot went in the front way. They were here to kill them.

  That made things a lot easier.

  The man stepped forward, confident and sure, and Danny punched him hard right in the throat. He fell back, almost toppling off the platform. Danny grabbed him, swerving his own body around the man’s gun. The man gasped at him, stunned, and tried to shout out, so Danny rammed his head hard against the hard wood of the lodge and the man dropped, unconscious. The sounds of the bush overwhelmed the sounds of their struggle.

  Danny disentangled the rifle from the intruder and handed it to Lester. Only then did he recognise the unconscious figure as one of the keepers who’d wrapped up Sophie’s body. He worked quickly through the man’s pockets, finding a phone and a battered Colt pistol. Stuffing the gun into the back of his trousers, he took a length of twine from the gamekeeper’s utility belt and firmly tied the man’s wrists to a drainpipe.

  Danny peered around the corner again, and watched as the second man — confident that the first was in place — detached himself from the shadow of the vehicle, walked up the front stairs and, Danny assumed, into the cabin.

  He looked up at Lester, who held the rifle ready, and nodded. They moved quietly to the front of the lodge and in through the door.

  The second gunman hadn’t turned on the lights. They stepped carefully through the hallway and into the mess room. Their dinner plates and empty cartons loomed in the darkness as they passed the dining table. Danny stepped into the kitchen and instinct kicked in.

  He lunged forward, hurling himself at the stove as a bullet cut through the air where he’d been.

  Danny turned, raising his pistol, knowing he was in plain sight. He squeezed back on the trigger, but before he released his finger two gunshots cracked loudly in quick succession. He braced himself for the pain of having been shot, and found himself struggling for breath.

  Down the corridor, the second gunman toppled backwards onto the floor.

  Danny let out a sigh.

  Lester moved forward into the corridor, smoke curling from the end of his rif
le. He made his way quickly to the man he’d just shot, checking his pulse at the neck. Then, satisfied, he turned.

  “What?” he said, seeing the look on Danny’s face. “We only need one of them to question.”

  “Unless that guy’s the boss.”

  “Somehow I doubt that either of them is ‘boss’ material,” he responded.

  “We’ll see.”

  Wary, ready for more assassins, they made their way back to where the second gunman was tied up. He had got to his knees but couldn’t get further because of the way Danny had bound him. They watched as he strained against the drainpipe, which buckled, bit by bit, reminding Danny of the impala they had used as bait earlier in the day.

  “You’re not refusing our hospitality, are you?” Danny asked, nudging the man firmly in the shoulder so that he tumbled over. His body crunched against the hard wooden platform.

  The gunman stared up at them, his eyes wide and fearful. He said something in the clicking language they’d heard Ted and Sophie use before.

  “So long as you cooperate, we’re not going to hurt you,” Danny said, turning reassuring now. “Honest, we’re the good guys. We’re here to help.”

  The gunman didn’t seem placated — he either didn’t understand, or affected not to. He yanked hard with his arms and the rope around his wrists tore loose the ancient drainpipe. Drops of water splattered out of the jagged pipe and its lower end fell forward, pointing up at the gunman accusingly. He gazed down at his wrists, still tied to each other, but not to anything else. Then he looked up into the barrel of Danny’s pistol.

  “You’re not going anywhere, sunshine. Not until we’ve had a few words.”

  The man glanced round at Lester, and back at Danny. He was shaking with fear, fat droplets of sweat rolling down his face.

  “Now, easy...” he said, reaching forward for the man’s shoulder to help him to his feet. The man flinched away, looking quickly around for any means of escape. His breathing was fast and ragged, he looked sick and terrified.

  “Hey,” Danny said, trying again to be the good cop. “It’s all going to be fine...”

  The man gazed levelly at him, then turned to face the wall of the lodge. He leant back, said something quiet in his clicking language, and then brought his head crashing down on the jagged end of the drainpipe. With a sickening, wet sound the hollow spear of plastic burst through the back of his skull.

  TWENTY-ONE

  The female Sauroposeidon wrenched itself from the railway tunnel and charged towards them. Her head drooped, wounded, at the end of her long and slender neck.

  The creature was in a terrible state. Her huge body gleamed with dark blood where she had shredded her flesh against the brickwork. Legs as thick as tree trunks urged her onwards.

  Connor guessed that when stood up straight she would be at least fifteen metres tall; he barely came up to her knee. He grabbed Abby’s hand and they ran quickly up the tracks, towards the creature’s massive children. The young Sauroposeidons stood watching, knowing something was wrong. Rain drizzled greyly around them and they looked miserably out of place in the London murk.

  Reacting to the noise of their parent, the young dinosaurs began hurrying off down the track, the thud of their heavy footsteps echoing back towards him and Abby as they ran.

  “It didn’t work!” Abby wailed.

  The huge rent in the creature’s shoulder seeped blood and gore, but she kept coming, barrelling towards them.

  Becker stood his ground, trying to line up another shot, until the creature was almost upon him and he had to withdraw or be trampled.

  The creature charged on and Connor and Abby hurriedly scrambled up the grassy bank beside the railway line, out of the way. Seconds later the Sauroposeidon thundered past, knocking down utility poles, leaving a horrific trail of blood in its wake.

  “The poor thing,” Abby said.

  “The poor thing that nearly trampled us,” Connor said.

  “Yeah, but it must be in so much pain.”

  Guiltily, Connor watched the massive creature rush towards the other, smaller Sauroposeidons, who moved away as fast as their heavy legs could carry them.

  “It’s scaring off the others,” Becker noted, reaching them. “As soon as there’s a gap in the verges, they’ll scatter into the street.”

  “They’re heading down to New Cross,” Abby pointed out. “That’s all residential.”

  Becker spoke rapidly into his earpiece.

  “I need all vehicles on the railway line at the nearest access point due south. We’ve got creatures who can’t get up the verges looking for a means of escape.”

  “Is that going to work?” Abby said doubtfully.

  Becker shrugged. “Worth a try. We need to stop this thing quickly. Any ideas how we do that?”

  Neither Abby nor Connor could help him.

  Becker stepped carefully down the verge until his feet crunched on the gravel. Then he began running after the huge dinosaur, his long strides far quicker than those of the lumbering creature. What was there he could do?

  But Becker had seen what Connor had not. The huge creature stumbled as it continued down the railway line. Its enormous legs were becoming slow and clumsy. It let out one long, exhausted sigh and collapsed heavily onto its side. Becker hurried up behind it, keeping a safe distance back. He circled round, to the long, wheezing head, and raised his G36.

  “No!” Abby cried, running to catch up with him.

  “We have to,” Becker told her levelly.

  “I know,” Abby said. “But I’m the one in charge, remember? It should be me.”

  Becker considered, then handed her his gun with a nod. Abby stood in front of the enormous creature, a determined look in her eye. She pulled back on the trigger.

  Then it was over. The Sauroposeidon lay still and at peace. Connor made his way over to his friends. Abby handed the gun back to Becker. In the distance they could hear the sad, panicked cries of the huge creature’s children.

  “They’re orphans now,” Connor said sadly.

  Abby took his hand. “Hey,” she said. “What else could we have done?”

  “I know, but it’s just not fair.”

  Becker turned to look back down the track in the direction the other Sauroposeidons had run.

  “Wilcock?” he said into his earpiece. “Is that barricade in place?” He listened for a moment then said. “Only as a last resort. Ideally, we send them home safe and well. Keep me posted. Out.”

  “Well?” Abby asked. “Did you fence them in?”

  “They’ve put a few cars on the line and pretty much blocked it off.”

  “Pretty much,” Connor repeated. “That’s not wholly reassuring.”

  “The creatures are standing their ground, just watching the barricade at the moment. Wilcock says he doesn’t fancy our chances if they decide to try and break through.”

  Connor thought for a moment.

  “Do you think we can herd them back this way?”

  “Perhaps,” Becker said. “These are big creatures, not used to being pushed around. Maybe we just drive slowly in their direction, and hope they retreat.”

  “We can’t just hope,” Abby said firmly. “We need to do better than that.”

  “I’m meant to follow your orders,” Becker told her. “If you’ve got any ideas...”

  “It’s going to be like herding cats,” Connor said. He looked up to see Abby smiling sweetly at him.

  “What?”

  “Connor,” Abby said. “You’ve just given me an idea.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  They hadn’t turned the lights on in the lodge, but their eyes had got used to the dark. Danny found a bottle of brandy in the mess room and poured two generous measures. He handed one glass to Lester, who took it without looking up from his BlackBerry.

  “Trying Yellow Pages?”

  Lester smiled thinly. “A for assassins, or C for clean-up? No, I made a note of Ted’s number. He seems to be our only ally.”


  Danny nodded as his boss held the device up to his ear.

  “Hello, Ted? James Lester here. Yes, at the lodge. I’m afraid we’ve run out of cartons of beer. Is there any chance you could drop round some more? We’ll pay for it, of course. But we’re positively gasping at the moment. Yes, thank you. See you soon.”

  “Think that’s going to help us?” Danny asked as Lester turned off the phone and took a sip of brandy.

  “It might help Ted get away,” Lester explained, “and if anyone was listening in, it might not implicate him.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “Better get rid of the bodies before he gets here. He might not come alone.”

  “What do you want to do with them?” Danny said, surprised by Lester’s icy, practical tone.

  “We can put them around the back of the lodge, in the tall grass where they won’t be seen.”

  “Won’t they attract scavengers? You saw how close the lions came to the lodge last night.”

  “That would save us a lot of additional effort in the morning.” Lester drained his brandy in one swallow.

  They started with the body in the corridor. Lester kicked away the man’s rifle, then helped himself to the pistol in the holster on his hip. He tucked the gun into the back of his trousers, and showed no squeamishness about wrapping his arms under the corpse’s armpits. Danny grabbed the ankles, and they lifted him down towards the back door.

  Contrary to the concept of ‘dead weight’, Danny had noticed during his days as a policeman that the deceased seemed to weigh less than the living. A more credulous man might think a man’s soul weighed a couple of pounds.

  Lester hesitated at the door, listening to the wilderness outside. They could hear dense and vivid life out there, or at least they could imagine it. Perhaps large animals moved through the tall grass, or perhaps another assassin.

  He crossed the porch and stepped down from the platform, grunting under the weight of the dead man in his arms. Danny glanced left and right as they moved into the grass. It whipped against his exposed face and forearms, as though trying to snatch the body from his grasp. Their footsteps sounded loudly as they crunched through the underbrush, obscuring any hope of hearing something that might be sneaking up on them.