The Longest Day (Ark Royal X)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Aye, Captain.”

  ***

  “I think we won,” Admiral Robertson said.

  Jon nodded. Home Fleet would continue to monitor the alien fleet, of course, but it definitely looked like the aliens were running for the tramline. He wondered, absently, just which factor had made them decide to break off and retreat. The missiles? The prospect of a mutually-destructive engagement? Or something alien, something no human could hope to understand. He had a feeling he’d probably never know.

  He looked over at Warner. “Damage report?”

  Warner glanced at Admiral Robertson, who nodded. “Five carriers destroyed, sir; two more heavily damaged,” he said. “The remaining carriers all took some damage, but their commanders believe they can be repaired fairly quickly. Their landing decks are still intact and the remaining starfighters have been parcelled out. Ah ... national formations are now hopelessly jumbled.”

  “I dare say we’ll survive,” Jon said. Right now, it was the least of their problems. “It’ll do wonders for international cooperation, if nothing else.”

  Admiral Robertson snorted. “Do you want to write the report for Earth?”

  Jon looked at the timer. Earth wouldn't know - yet - that the battle had been joined, let alone won. They’d certainly have problems following the engagement from such a distance, although they might see the remaining alien ships running for the tramline.

  “Tell them we won,” he said, finally. His body was insisting, loudly, that he needed a shower and sleep. He felt as though he’d drunk enough coffee to float a battleship. “I’ll write a full report later.”

  “Yes, sir,” Admiral Robertson said. He looked doubtful. “Just that?”

  “Right now, that’s all they’ll want to know,” Jon said. “We won.”

  And yet, we took a beating, he thought as he headed for the hatch. Home Fleet had been battered into near-uselessness. Far too many trained pilots and spacers had been killed. The cost of replacing them - in time as well as money - would be staggering. We may still lose the war.

  But he kept that thought to himself. It would only have upset people.

  Let them enjoy the victory while they can, he told himself. We’ll have to return to battle soon enough.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Near Townsend, United Kingdom

  The rain fell ever harder, as Molly led Fran through the woods, but she could still hear someone chasing after them. Dave - she was sure it was Dave - seemed to have an unerring sense of direction, even in the pouring rain. Visibility was pathetic, yet he was still following them. And he was gaining on them.

  We have to keep moving, Molly thought. Her bare feet were aching. Blood welled up from a dozen scratches and cuts. Maybe he’s following the blood.

  She glanced down, but the rain seemed to be washing the blood into the soil too quickly for anyone to see the stain. Or so she hoped. Did Dave have a dog with him? She’d read a dozen stories where hunting dogs had been put off the scent by pepper or wading through rivers, but she didn't have any pepper. And the rainfall should be enough to obscure her scent. She cursed herself as she forced her aching limbs to keep moving. She didn’t even know if Dave had a dog.

  The ground grew steeper, water splashing down as they clambered up a hill. She tried to picture the map in her mind before dismissing it as hopeless. There was no way to know where they were, let alone where they were going. Something crashed through the undergrowth behind them, spurring her on. Dave - or his friends - were far too close to her for comfort.

  We could hide, she thought. But she was naked. Her pale body would stick out like a sore thumb. What else can we do?

  Fran stumbled as she tripped, nearly landing on her face in the mud. Molly caught her arm and yanked her onwards, even though she knew Fran might have twisted her ankle. They didn't have time to stop. Fran limped after her, grunting in pain. Molly was just glad she hadn't screamed. If Dave was close enough for them to hear him, he was certainly close enough to hear them.

  “I can't go on,” Fran gasped. Her breathing was ragged, as if she could no longer take deep breaths. “I honestly can't go on.”

  “You must,” Molly snapped. She kept hold of Fran’s arm, forcing her to keep moving. “You don’t want to be caught.”

  She looked around as the hillside grew steeper, prickly bushes appearing amidst the trees. It was growing harder to keep climbing, yet ... she wasn't sure she dared try to head either left or right. Dave might change his own path to intercept them. She shivered as more water cascaded over her body, reminding her of her vulnerability. Dave wouldn't be remotely merciful if he caught them. Molly would probably have to watch as he raped Fran before being raped herself.

  Fuck, she thought, numbly. Her limbs were starting to feel cold. What do we do?

  There were plenty of tree branches within sight, but she had no illusions about her ability to turn them into improvised weapons. Dave was stronger than her, faster than her and nastier than her. And she’d proved she could plan and carry out an escape. She doubted he’d let her close to him without beating her to a pulp first. Playing helpless and dumb wasn't going to work a second time. Trying to ambush him was probably futile.

  But we’ll run out of hillside, sooner or later, she thought. And what happens then?

  She tried to think of something, but nothing came to mind. There was no way to know what - if anything - was in front of them. They could be running further and further away from help, instead of towards it. Dave’s friends might already have circled the hill, trying to get in front of them. They’d catch her when she reached the bottom of the hill. Or they might be heading the other way as fast as possible, leaving Dave alone. She wouldn’t have blamed them for abandoning their monstrous friend.

  “I can see you,” Dave’s voice called. It echoed oddly between the trees. “Come out now and I won’t hurt you.”

  “Don’t say anything,” Molly hissed, sharply. She looked behind her. Visibility was still poor, mist slowly forming between the trees. There was no sign of Dave, but she could hear something moving towards them. She didn't understand how he could see them ... he couldn't see them. He was hoping they’d shout back and reveal their position. “Keep moving.”

  Fran looked unsure. “What if ...?”

  “Ungrateful brat,” Molly snapped. “Just move!”

  The crashing sound grew louder as they picked up speed, scrambling up the rocky hillside. Water cascaded down, making it harder and harder to climb without using both hands and feet. Molly gritted her teeth as she cut her leg on a stone, hoping - praying - that Dave really didn't have a dog. Her thoughts refused to let go of the possibility. The water might wash the blood away or it might not. If it didn't, Dave could probably tell she was wounded. It wouldn't be long before her feet gave out completely.

  Thunder crackled, high overhead. Molly glanced up at the gloomy sky, silently willing the rain to fall harder. It was cold and wet - she knew she’d be shivering helplessly if she hadn't forced herself to keep moving - but it was the only cover they had. Dave might find it harder to track them if the water obscured their path, hiding the signs of their desperate flight from him. She wished, not for the first time, that she’d paid more attention to outdoor sports. Her old gym mistress would have outraced Dave by now ...

  And probably kicked his ass, Molly thought. Her memories of the gym mistress made the wretched woman into a giant, although she probably hadn't been that much larger than her charges. She never gave any of us any mercy.

  Fran grunted in pain. “I ... I don’t know how I can go on.”

  “Think of what he’ll do to you,” Molly advised. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Fran couldn't go on for much longer, if at all. “Do you really want to be raped and murdered?”

  “I should never have come here,” Fran said. “Maggie wanted to go to the city farm instead ...”

  Molly scowled. “Stop whining,” she said. “Just keep moving.”

  Fran shot her a b
etrayed look, but Molly ignored it. She had too many regrets of her own to give much of a damn about Fran’s. Her kids were still hundreds of miles away, without even the slightest idea where to start looking for their mother. If they were still alive ... the policeman had talked about flooding in the Thames Valley. Percy and Penny might have been forced out of their home by now. And Gayle ...

  She wasn't paid to stay with them during a full-scale emergency, Molly thought. She’d certainly never anticipated the possibility. She might have gone straight home.

  Dave was coming closer. She could hear him. And that meant ...

  He’s far too close, Molly thought. We’re not going to get away.

  Cold ice congealed around her heart. Dave and his friends had ... had used her, with as much consideration as they would have used a blow-up doll. She wouldn't have willingly gone back to them even if they’d showed her any real consideration. Now, after she’d escaped, they'd do much worse. And they’d rape Fran too. And then ...

  She caught Fran’s eye as they pressed onwards. “When I tell you, I want you to hide in the undergrowth,” she said. “I’ll lead him after me. You stay put until he’s gone, then creep back the way he came. Walk around the cabin, just in case they’ve gone back there, and head to the nearest farm.”

  Fran stared at her. “But he’ll catch you!”

  “Perhaps,” Molly said. She was fairly sure Dave would catch her. And she was very sure she wouldn't survive the experience. But at least Fran would have a chance. Molly just hoped she’d make the most of it. “When you find the police, tell them ...”

  She shook her head. Fran didn't need to be burdened with a final message from Molly, not when she had too many other problems. Just getting away would be hard enough. She’d have to be very careful. There was no way to know where the other two thugs had gone. If one of them was following Dave, Fran would be in deep shit.

  “Get under cover,” she snapped, pointing to the left. There were enough bushes to hide Fran, if Dave didn't have time to look. “And don’t come out until you’re sure he’s following me.”

  Fran nodded. “I ...”

  Molly hurried onwards, concentrating on making as much noise as she could. The rain would bury most of it, but she’d already decided that Dave had very good ears. He’d certainly managed to chase them, despite the poor visibility. She wondered, absently, if he’d found a pair of hunting binoculars. A pair might well have been stored at the cabin. She’d never been hunting, but she’d heard that rich people liked to do it.

  Garrison never took me hunting, she thought, as she clambered up the trail. The noise behind her was growing louder. Perhaps it was out of his price range.

  The thought would have made her smile, if she hadn't been so tired and sore. She’d been a damn fool. There was no point in disputing that, she thought. She’d betrayed her husband and children ... for what? For a dream of a life amongst the Quality? For a dream that would fade when the money ran out? She’d been ripe for exploitation and Garrison had exploited her. And then Dave ... the only real difference between Garrison and Dave, she decided, was that one was cruder than the other. Garrison had masked his bad intentions. Dave hadn't bothered to try to hide them.

  And he will kill me, if he has half a chance, she thought. And ...

  She ran through a pair of bushes and skidded to a halt, just in time to keep herself from running over a cliff. Rainwater cascaded down towards a churning river, heading eastwards ... she looked east, but saw nothing beyond the mist. The wind blew stronger, sending shivers down her spine ... she looked left and right, yet there was nowhere to go. She peered down, hoping to see a way to get down to the river, but there was nothing. It was a sheer drop.

  Trapped, she thought. Fuck.

  The noise of someone coming towards her grew louder and louder. She could hear his heavy breathing ... she hoped, desperately, that he would run right over the cliff. Because if he didn't ... she looked around, frantically. Someone had designed the whole area as a lover’s meeting place, she decided. There was only one way in or out that didn't involve pushing through thorny bushes and stinging nettles. And Dave was coming right up it.

  I’m sorry, Kurt, she thought. I ... I don’t know what to do.

  ***

  Dave knew, as he scrambled after the wretched bitch, that he’d made a mistake. It was something he never should have done, but he’d been tired and content after he’d had his way with her. He’d enjoyed watching her submit to him, he’d enjoyed watching her make the choice to do anything, rather than let the younger girl be taken in her place ... it had never occurred to him, afterwards, that she would somehow manage to escape. And now everything was in jeopardy.

  The cops hadn't managed to pin more than a fraction of his crimes on him, thanks to an expensive lawyer and some nifty witness intimidation. Being forced to work on the chain gang - suffering the hoots and hollers of every well-bred nincompoop with a car - hadn't been fun, but at least it had been better than summary execution or permanent exile. He’d promised himself that he would be more careful, once he was released; he certainly wouldn’t leave the bitches alive afterwards. And when the chance to escape had come, he’d taken it without a second thought.

  He’d dreamed, just for a while, that he could build a fiefdom of his own. Law and order had broken down spectacularly, perhaps completely. Whoever built an army might just be able to take the country, or at least a small fraction of it. Besides, he had nothing to lose. If he was recaptured, he wouldn't be put back on the chain gang. He’d be lucky if he wasn't simply marched to the nearest wall and shot. Escapees did not get second chances.

  They should have been able to hide forever, he told himself. The cabin was isolated, the nearest farm quite some distance away. They could raid for food, then enjoy themselves with the girl. They could even go looking for more girls. There was a boarding school nearby, if nothing else. Farm girls were likely to prove too independent for his tastes. But instead, they’d captured an older woman ...

  It had been a mistake, he told himself. They should have ignored her, or killed her, or kept her tied up. Instead, he’d allowed her a chance to get away. His lust for dominance, for forcing her to surrender herself, had overwhelmed his common sense. It would have been easy to tie her up or break one of her legs or even make very sure she couldn't get out of the room. But he’d been too satiated to care.

  And now the others have fled, he thought, darkly. They’d decided to run before the police arrived, as if there was anywhere they could hide. And all my plans have come to naught.

  He smashed through a set of bushes and came to a halt. There was nowhere to go. The older woman - he’d never bothered to learn her name - was standing by the edge of the tiny clearing, watching him warily. Her naked body was streaked with blood, water splashing down from high overhead to wash her clean; her tits shook with fear, drawing his attention to her hard nipples. Dave snarled at her, feeling the lust return as she cringed back. This time, he didn't have to worry about keeping her alive. This time ...

  A thought struck him. “Where’s the other bitch?”

  The woman pointed to the cliff. “She fell down.”

  Dave glanced behind him. Water churned down, splashing up as it hit the rocks at the bottom before running down to the sea. The river hadn't been that impressive a few hours ago, when they’d scouted around the cabin, but the heavy rainfall had turned it into a torrent. If the younger bitch had fallen down, it would have killed her. And her body would be beyond recovery.

  “What a shame,” he said. He’d been looking forward to breaking the younger girl, but there was no point in crying over spilt milk. “I’ll have to make do with you, won’t I?”

  He sneered at the older woman. He’d always wanted an older woman, ever since he’d learnt that scoring with one was better than luring a girl his own age into bed. The boys at school had bragged about their sexual conquests with older women, chatting about just what an experienced woman could do. And this one ha
dn't been a disappointment. She’d been as horny as them, by the time they’d finally tired of using her. She’d known things his companions hadn't known were possible.

  He allowed his leer to grow wider. Women were always the same. Strong and proud, as long as they had a protector to look after them. When they were alone, when there was no one to trade sex for protection, they crumbled. The girls at his school had laughed at him because they’d thought he was too scared of their fathers and boyfriends to lay a finger on them, no matter how they displayed themselves before him. He’d taught some of them better, when he’d grown older. They'd paid for laughing at him.

  They begged for mercy, he thought, remembering the first girl he’d lured into his clutches and raped. The slut hadn't even remembered him, damn her. But I showed them who was boss.