Endgame (Agent 21)

by Chris Ryan

  ‘Malcolm!’ Zak yelled. ‘Get up! Get back to the fire!’

  But there was no reply, and no movement.

  Zak’s was the first branch to go out completely. It was as though someone had blown out a birthday candle – a sudden rush of smoke, then nothing but a charred stump.

  ‘Get behind me!’ Ricky said.

  Zak didn’t like retreating, but he knew he had no choice. While Ricky continued to wave his barely smouldering branch at the bear, Zak jumped backwards towards Malcolm. The bear roared shockingly as Zak bent down and, with a great effort that made him realize how weakened he was by the cold, scooped Malcolm up in his arms and hauled him over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. ‘Walk backwards to the fire!’ he shouted at Ricky. But his companion was already doing this. With a sudden surge of hope, Zak saw that the bear itself was staying put.

  They retreated ten paces. The end of Ricky’s branch flickered weakly. It was little more than a glowing stump now, but it seemed to be doing the job. The bear was still snarling, but it wasn’t moving forward. Perhaps they’d done enough to discourage it . . .

  Zak looked back. They were halfway to the waning fire. He looked forward again.

  His heart stopped.

  Ricky’s branch had gone out.

  The bear had noticed this too. It had started to lumber forward. Ricky was staggering back. ‘Run!’ Zak bellowed. ‘Run!’

  Too late. The beast was building up speed. Ricky had turned to sprint back to the fire, but it was clear he wasn’t going to make it. Zak lowered Malcolm back down onto the snow, then sprinted towards his other companion, not quite knowing how he was going to help him ward off the bear’s attack, but realizing that he had to do something . . .

  The bear was three metres from Ricky when it reared up onto its hind legs once again. It loomed alarmingly over him . . .

  It roared.

  Time slowed down.

  There were no screams or shouts of alarm. The bear made no sound as it raised both its enormous front paws and prepared to go in for the kill. Ricky didn’t scream. There was a horrible, dread silence.

  But the silence was suddenly broken by a loud, echoing, cracking sound that caused Zak’s ears to ring and snow to fall from the treetops.

  He knew immediately what it was.

  Gunshot.

  He looked down at himself to see if he’d been hit.

  17

  TASHA

  – This is it, said the voice in Ricky’s head. This is the moment you die.

  He felt like his whole body was screaming as the bear drew itself up to its full height above him. As the seconds flashed by, he had a premonition of those ugly claws ripping into his flesh. He could almost feel the bear tear open his abdomen to scavenge his soft organs.

  He tried to scamper further back to the fire, but his legs weren’t doing what his brain was telling them to . . .

  Crack!

  Ricky knew it was a gunshot. Had the authorities found them? Were they firing on Zak and maybe even on Ricky and Malcolm?

  But then another strange sound hit his ears. An angry whimper, and it was coming from the bear. By the flickering orange light of the fire, he saw a flash of dark liquid streak across the snow. The bear toppled and fell to its side, no more than four metres from where Ricky was standing.

  Silence. He looked around to see where the gunshot had come from.

  The great beast roared again. The sound was filled with pain.

  ‘Get back!’ Zak hissed from behind him. ‘It’s dangerous when wounded . . .’

  ‘But who just shot—’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Get back!’

  As if confirming Zak’s fear, the bear suddenly lashed out a single paw that missed Ricky by only a few centimetres. Ricky jumped away, and was preparing to sprint back to the fire when another shot rang out.

  The bear’s whole body juddered. There was another spatter of dark liquid across the snow. Then it fell still.

  ‘Hit the floor!’ Zak hissed. But Ricky was already dropping. Whoever had just shot the bear was still armed. There was nothing to say that the three teenagers weren’t next in the firing line.

  ‘We need to get out of here,’ Ricky whispered, panicked sweat dripping down the nape of his neck. Zak was lying a metre behind him. Just beyond Zak, Malcolm – immobile.

  ‘Not without Malcolm,’ Zak said. He squinted beyond the bear to the far side of the clearing. ‘Look,’ he breathed.

  Ricky followed his gaze. Through the darkness and the still-swirling snow, he could just make out the silhouette of a person and a dog. The person wasn’t particularly tall, nor did they move very fast. But they were definitely walking in this direction – distance about fifty metres – with the dog trotting calmly by their side. Ricky could just see the outline of a gun barrel slung across the person’s chest. Ricky found he was holding his breath as he kept his eyes firmly fixed on these strange figures emerging from the darkness. With a sick feeling, he wondered if it was the driver from earlier, here to finish them off. But the driver had been taller than this person, and his gait was very different.

  A great deal of blood was oozing from the bear’s two gunshot wounds. It melted the surrounding snow. Ricky felt a sudden pang of sadness that this amazing creature had lost its life, even though it had been on the point of killing him. But his real attention was on the figure, now twenty metres away. He could make the clothes out a bit better. Tey wore a fur overcoat, very similar to the pelt of the dead bear, and a heavy hat, covered in loose snow. The rifle that had just fired two rounds looked old, and was slung casually across the figure’s front. The dog seemed to glow in the dark, brighter and whiter than the snow. Ricky squinted harder. It was definitely not the driver. And he didn’t think it was the authorities, because surely there would be more than one of them and they’d have their weapons raised.

  When the figure was ten metres away, and Ricky could see the face, he got another surprise. It was a girl, with black tendrils of hair tumbling out from under her hat, and a thin face with a pointed nose. It was hard to tell exactly how old she was, but Ricky didn’t reckon she was much older than him. The dog looked like a husky, with shockingly white fur.

  The girl walked up to the bear, which she kicked casually with one foot. Without looking at Ricky, Zak or Malcolm, she called out through the snow-filled air: ‘You’s lucky I was in the neighbourhood.’ She spoke very slowly, with a pronounced American drawl. ‘This ol’ bear would’ve had ya.’ The dog sat down obediently by her side as she pulled out a very large hunting knife. ‘What you doin’ in these parts, anyhow?’ she asked, as she bent down and plunged the knife expertly into the bear’s belly.

  Ricky and Zak pushed themselves up to their feet. ‘We, er, we got lost,’ Ricky said carefully. He had the very distinct feeling that the dog would pounce if the girl told it to.

  The girl gave a cynical snort. ‘You bet you got lost,’ she said, as she sliced carefully up the dead bear’s belly.

  ‘We’re, er . . . we’re trying to visit our grandparents.’

  Their cover story sounded pretty unconvincing here in the middle of nowhere, and it was met with a disbelieving look from the girl. She glanced over at Malcolm. ‘What ’bout that one? He dead?’

  Her words were like an electric shock. Ricky and Zak rushed over to where Malcolm was lying. Zak checked his pulse, while Ricky put his hand an inch above his mouth to check for breath. As he did so, Malcolm’s eyes opened. ‘Cold,’ he whispered.

  ‘Get him to the fire,’ Zak instructed. They grabbed their friend, one end each, and quickly hauled him over to where their small fire was rapidly fading. They laid him on the ground, then Ricky carefully started adding more fuel to the fire, while Zak tried to get Malcolm to sit up. All the while, the strange, fur-clad girl continued her quiet, efficient butchery of the bear.

  After a couple of minutes she walked over to them, the dog trotting along beside her. She was holding something in both hands. Only when she was cl
ose to the fire, and lit up by its orange light, did Ricky see that it was a glistening, bleeding organ. Her hands and furs were smeared in blood. She held it out, as though she was presenting a gift.

  ‘What is it?’ Ricky asked.

  ‘Liver.’

  ‘Not a fan, to be honest.’

  ‘Then you ain’t never been hungry before.’ The girl looked around at the drifting snow. ‘Weather like this,’ she said, ‘you gotta eat. Hold it.’ Without waiting for a reply, she handed the liver to Ricky. It was heavier than he expected, and his skin crept away from the warm, wet flesh. The girl examined what remained of their firewood, then pulled her hunting knife from inside her furs and expertly whittled away three thin sticks. Each was very straight, about thirty centimetres long, and two had a forked end. She dug these into the snow right next to the fire, forked end pointing upwards, then balanced the remaining stick between them to make a small spit. As Ricky held the liver, she started to cut thin slices off it. Once she had six, she threaded them onto the stick. Blood dripped from the slices onto the ground, and the meat began to sizzle.

  ‘Give my dog the rest of that liver, you got a friend for life,’ the girl said.

  Ricky laid the remaining liver down in the snow, before wiping his bloodied hands on his clothes.

  ‘OK, Snow,’ the girl said. Snow was obviously the dog’s name. He trotted over to the fresh liver, dragged it a few metres away from their position and started to eat. Ricky caught sight of some extremely sharp teeth.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Ricky asked.

  She gave him a suspicious look. ‘What does it matter?’

  ‘It doesn’t. I’m just asking.’

  She sniffed. ‘Tasha,’ she said.

  ‘I’m Ricky. This is Zak and Malcolm.’ He glanced over at Zak, half expecting to be reprimanded for giving their real names. But Zak didn’t seem bothered. There was hardly any point out here, and they really needed this girl’s help. ‘Er . . . thanks for saving our lives back there, Tasha.’

  ‘Yo’ lives ain’t saved yet,’ Tasha said. She picked up the skewer of liver pieces and handed them round. ‘You want to make it through the night? Eat.’ She crammed her pieces of cooked liver into her mouth. Ricky did the same. Instantly, he wanted to gag. The meat was only just warmed through – he felt like he was chewing a mouthful of jellied blood, and the taste was intense and high. He saw Zak swallowing his food, but it was too much for Malcolm, who spat his out. Tasha looked at him, then shrugged, as if to say: ‘That’s your problem.’

  ‘What are you doing out here at night?’ Zak asked.

  Tasha sneered. ‘Could ask you the same question.’ But when Zak didn’t reply, she said, ‘Huntin’ that bear. Been prowlin’ round where my family live. Causin’ damage. Beast had to go. Pops told me he hasn’t seen a grizzly walking around in winter since he was a boy. Can’t have him hanging around our livin’ quarters. Brothers went north and south. I went west.’

  She spoke in a weirdly adult fashion. ‘You’re a bit young to be out hunting bears, aren’t you?’ Ricky said.

  ‘An’ you’s a bit young to be killed by one,’ she shot back. She looked over towards the bear’s corpse. ‘Wolves in these forests,’ she said.

  ‘We heard them.’

  ‘Bet you did. They’ll soon sniff out that dead beast. You don’t want to be here when they do. Trust me ’bout that. They get the taste for blood, they don’t care much whether their meal’s livin’ or dead. That’s why I won’t be taking no meat from the beast back home.’ She stood up, nodded to them, and made a clicking sound at the back of her mouth. Snow trotted obediently up to her. Ricky noticed that the dog had different coloured eyes – one orange, one green. Snow followed Tasha as she walked away from the fire, back in the direction from which she’d come. As she passed the bear, she glanced at it slightly regretfully.

  Ricky and Zak looked at each other. An unspoken question passed between them. Ricky knew what Zak would be thinking: that they only had forty-something hours until Cruz’s deadline, and they still had half a continent to cross. Things were looking very bad. But they couldn’t stay out here unprotected and with no shelter. It would be suicide. They nodded at each other. ‘Tasha,’ Ricky called. ‘Wait up.’

  She stopped and turned.

  ‘You live near here?’

  She gave her characteristic shrug. ‘Kinda.’

  ‘In a village? A town?’

  Tasha sneered. ‘No way. My family don’t live among other people. We live in the wild. Build our own houses, hunt our own food, live by our own rules.’

  ‘Look, we need shelter. Just for the rest of the night. We can pay you.’

  It was the word ‘pay’ that did it. Tasha’s eyes lit up. ‘How much?’

  ‘We’ll talk about that when we get to your place.’

  Tasha turned her back on them and continued to trudge through the snow. ‘Well, if you’s gonna come, you’s better come.’ And as they spoke, they heard, for the second time that night, the chilling sound of a wolf’s howl floating above the wind. It sounded closer than before.

  Ricky quickly started getting their gear together. He gave a moment’s thought to packing up the snow blanket, but it was splashed with blood. ‘Leave it,’ Tasha said. ‘Blood’ll attract wolves like nothing else.’

  Zak shovelled snow over their fire to extinguish it, before speaking urgently yet reassuringly to Malcolm, who managed to push himself to his feet. It didn’t take them much more than thirty seconds, but by that time Tasha was already at the far end of the clearing. They were rapidly losing sight of her.

  Hunching their shoulders, they battled quickly through the heavy snow. Ricky glanced down at the dead bear as they passed it. Once more, he felt a pang of sympathy for the beast. Its stomach was split open and its insides had spilled out all over the snow. There was a foul, fetid smell as they passed.

  As they reached the far edge of the clearing, he saw that Tasha and Snow had disappeared behind the tree line. They upped their pace. Another wolf howl pierced the air. Tasha was waiting for them under a tall fir tree. Snow’s ears were pricked up and alert, and he was smelling the wind. Tasha said nothing as they came into view, but simply turned and headed further into the forest. Ricky watched her carefully. There was something peculiar about the way she walked. It was almost as if she would have been more comfortable on all fours, like the bear she had just shot. Her weapon was now slung over her back, and as she occasionally looked back, there was something wild in her eyes.

  They trudged through the forest for what seemed like hours. There were many noises. Strange shufflings and the cracking of twigs in the distance. Ricky started every time he heard them. But Tasha seemed unconcerned, and her dog was relaxed. He took some comfort from that.

  Exhaustion overcame him. Every part of his body shrieked at him to stop and rest, but he knew he had to keep going. Every time he looked at Zak and Malcolm, he could see that they were in the same state. Their eyes were rolling and their gait was unsteady. At least, here among the trees, they were protected from the wind. Although Ricky was incredibly cold, he didn’t feel his body was in danger of shutting down. And Malcolm was keeping up, just. Often, he saw Zak supporting him as they moved through the snow, a look of grim determination on his face. It was obvious to Ricky how desperate Zak was to find his friends. His own thoughts drifted towards Felix. Ricky still couldn’t quite believe he was dead. The thought of catching the guy responsible gave him a little extra momentum as they tried to keep up with the strange, wild Tasha.

  He didn’t know how long they’d been walking when the trees started to thin again. It seemed like all night, though in truth it had probably not been much more than a couple of hours. He caught a glimpse of light in the distance. It was obscured by the trees, but it was a warming sight. They walked for a couple more minutes until they came to the edge of the forest. There, standing alone about thirty metres from the tree line, was a house – more of a large shack, really. It was made of logs
, its low roof covered in snow. The light came from two small windows, one on either side of the door. Ricky could tell by its flickering nature, and by the smoke curling from the chimney, that there was a fire burning inside. Half of him thought it seemed very risky, burning a fire in a log cabin. The other half wanted nothing more than to get warm. He took an involuntary step forward.

  ‘Wait,’ Tasha hissed.

  Ricky froze.

  ‘I’ll go first. Tell ’em you’re coming. Otherwise . . .’ She left it hanging.

  Ricky, Zak and Malcolm stood by the tree line and watched her walk towards, and into, the shack, with Snow at her side. They were too tired and cold to speak. Even Ziggy’s voice in Ricky’s head sounded slow and slurred.

  – I’m not sure this is a good idea.

  – We don’t have a choice. If we stay out in the snow, we’ll die.

  The door of the shack opened again. Two figures appeared. They were much taller than Tasha. One of them carried a hunting rifle, the other a handgun. They were pointing their weapons towards the trees. There was no sign of the girl or her dog.

  ‘Get your hands above your heads,’ one of them called in a deeply unfriendly voice, ‘before we fill you with holes and leave you for the animals . . .’

  18

  THE SHACK

  If someone has a gun pointing in your direction, you’d better have a good reason for not doing what they tell you. Zak raised his arms. Ricky and Malcolm did the same. Zak took a step forward.

  ‘Stay back! You’s think we’re stupid? You’s think you punks can make friends with lil’ Tasha, then come rob us? What are you, drug addicts?’

  ‘We’re not here to rob you,’ Ricky called out. ‘We’ll pay you to give us some shelter. Maybe some help.’

  The guy with the handgun wiped his nose with the back of his hand while still holding up his weapon. Zak noticed that he seemed to have painted the body of the weapon in a blood-red colour. ‘Oh yeah?’ he called.

  ‘We have money,’ Ricky said.