Capes

by Drabble, Matt

  “And this thing that is hunting us? Do you really think that is down to her also?”

  “What do you know about Olaf Gustafson?”

  The question was pointed and deliberately targeted at that precise moment because she wanted to see his raw reaction to it. While what she had been saying was completely the truth, and so were the sentiments behind it, she was also a journalist, one who knew when to ask the right question at the right time.

  CJ’s reaction was just as she’d hoped: unguarded.

  “CJ?” she pressed when he didn’t say anything. “Is there something you want to tell us? Tell me?”

  “I’m kind of curious to hear about that myself.”

  Jamie-Lyn turned to see that Crimson had joined them. The man’s face was set hard and, most tellingly, a hand was slipped inside his open coat.

  “Do I need to remind you how pointless that is?” CJ said, nodding towards Crimson’s hidden hand.

  “Yeah, you’ve always said that no earthly blade can harm you, but to be honest, it’s always been an ambition of mine to try.”

  “You really are a ridiculous little man,” CJ replied.

  “And I’m wondering if I could make you into a pair of boots and a handbag.” Crimson smiled back, his grin containing no humour whatsoever.

  “Is this really the best use of our time?” Jesus asked as he joined them.

  “Stay out of it,” Crimson growled. “This is none of your business.”

  “Everything here is my business. We’ve all got grudges to bear, and trust me, Crimson, before this is all done, we shall all get the answers that we’re looking for,” he added pointedly.

  “Is this about your dear old daddy again, kid?”

  Jesus stared straight at the other man, his face betraying his silence. The issue of his father’s death was never far from his thoughts whenever he was near the man he thought had killed him.

  “I promised you what I’d do if I find out that you killed him.”

  “Oh blah, blah, blah,” Crimson mocked.

  “We should not be fighting amongst ourselves,” CJ said, trying to diffuse the tension as the two men squared up to each other.

  “Maybe what we need is a little clearing of the air,” Crimson responded. “Get all the dirty laundry out there. For instance, we could start with what you know about this Gustafson guy. I mean, you’ve been dragging your heels all the way here, big guy.”

  “Because I believe this to be a waste of time.”

  “Ah yes, your Torvanian theory… space miners running amok!” Crimson laughed.

  “It is not so farfetched,” CJ said testily. “And it is better than chasing ghosts.”

  “Then why are you here?” Jamie-Lyn asked him. “I mean, you've made it clear that you don’t think this man has anything to do with what’s been happening to us, so why come at all?”

  “Because…”

  “Because what?” she snapped.

  “Because I thought that we were family,” CJ answered quietly. “And families stick together, no matter what.”

  “Well now, isn’t that just a lovely sentiment?” Crimson sneered.

  “Oh, can’t you ever just shut up?” Jamie-Lyn barked at him.

  “So I’m the bad guy all of a sudden?”

  “When the hell weren’t you the bad guy?” she exclaimed. “I mean, let’s be honest here. You’re only with us to save your own bloody skin! The second that it suits you, we won’t see you for dust, and you’ll probably leave us all to die if it saves you!”

  “I’m still here, aren’t I? I had the chance to leave the lot of you back at the base but I stuck around, for all the thanks it got me.”

  “You really want thanks? Well gee golly gosh, Crimson, we’re all just so grateful that you decided to hang around while the world fell apart. I can’t tell you what a comfort it is to have a sociopathic murderer on your side in a pinch!” Jamie-Lyn yelled as she picked up the nearest object, which happened to be a fairly substantial microscope, and hurled it with every ounce of frustration that had built up in her.

  The scientific instrument went tumbling through the air until it reached a window and then burst right through it.

  “It couldn’t hurt.” Crimson shrugged with a lopsided grin, and the tension momentarily broke as defusing smiles couldn’t help but break out.

  Jamie-Lyn took a deep breath.

  “Feel better?” Jesus asked.

  “A little,” she admitted.

  “Want to break anything else?” Crimson enquired. “Because I’m game if you are. There’s a lot of expensive-looking shit around here.”

  “I’m good.” She sighed heavily with a shake of her head and a grin that she couldn’t stop.

  “We ought to cover that window,” CJ said, pointing towards the now broken glass.

  “Oh yeah, that’s definitely the priority here.” Crimson laughed and the others smiled again.

  CJ walked over to the window but froze when he reached it.

  “What is it?” Crimson asked, his voice suddenly serious as he picked up on the alien’s suddenly rigid body language.

  “People I think, moving about out there; it’s hard to see in the snow. I think they might be camouflaged.”

  “Link? How you doing over there?” Jesus called over his shoulder as he too moved to the window.

  “Getting there slowly,” Link called back.

  “Well step it up. We might have to leave suddenly.”

  Jamie-Lyn reached the window and stared out with the others. She couldn’t see anything in the sheer white landscape outside, the visibility now hindered further by the fresh snow falling.

  “You getting anything?” Jesus asked Crimson.

  Crimson answered by moving to the hole in the glass and pushing his nose out into the icy wind, sniffing the air like an animal would.

  “Definitely people,” he replied. “I’m getting… maybe deodorant…, cigarettes…”

  “Locals?” Jesus asked as he stared out, not seeing anything himself but trusting the other man’s instincts.

  “Not sure,” Crimson replied with his eyes closed.

  “Numbers?” Jesus prodded.

  “Can’t be sure, but a lot. They’re staying out of sight, but there’s significant movement out there beyond the tree line.”

  “Okay, where’s the gear?” Jamie-Lyn asked, looking around for the bags of weapons and equipment that they’d brought, but everyone just looked at each other.

  “Crap,” Crimson muttered under his breath as he turned towards them.

  “Wait a minute, are you telling me that you left them outside?” Jamie-Lyn exclaimed. “Are you serious? We brought a small arsenal and they’re sitting on the snowmobiles out there?”

  “Is there time?” CJ asked.

  Crimson pushed his nose back to the hole in the window and sniffed the air again for a few seconds. “No.”

  “Oh brilliant,” Jamie-Lyn snapped. “This is some kind of super team we’ve got right here!”

  “Okay…, okay,” Jesus said, breathing slower. “We need to make sure that this place is locked down.”

  “And if it’s the beast?” Jamie-Lyn said, giving voice to their worst fear. “If it’s that thing, then what good would a locked door be?”

  “Crimson?” Jesus asked.

  “No…,” he said slowly as he considered the scents on the wind. “No, it’s not him.”

  “You’re sure?” CJ enquired as he continued to stare out into the white.

  “Yes, that thing has a smell all of its own. Those are people out there – what kind I couldn’t say, anymore than I could speculate on their motives, but they are human at least, I can say that much.”

  “Okay, so we lock this place down,” Jesus reiterated. “LINK?” he yelled. “KEEP WORKING.”

  Link responded by flapping an irritable hand in the air.

  “Have we got time to leave?” Jamie-Lyn asked Crimson.

  “No, the place is surrounded. If we step out
side, then they’ll cut us down from cover, same, I suspect, if we make a run for the snowmobiles to grab the bags. That’s assuming that our visitors are armed of course, but personally, I’d rather not take that chance.”

  “CJ, can you teleport outside and retrieve the bags?” Jamie-Lyn asked, suddenly struck by inspiration. “Or better yet, what if you just teleport us all out of here?”

  “The problem is the same one I encountered getting out here. In the snow, it’s hard to see where I’m heading. If I go in the wrong direction and we get stranded, then you guys are all going to die of hypothermia out there.”

  “We’re all wearing the right clothing,” she offered.

  “But I’ve got a limited amount of jumps before I have to recharge. That number drops when I carry multiple people. If we head in the wrong direction twice, or maybe even once, then we’re going to be stuck for hours and you will all die.”

  “What about the bags then?” she asked. “Nip out, grab the bags, nip back. I know I’d feel better if we were at least armed.”

  “Good idea.” Jesus nodded. “Go get them.”

  CJ nodded then stood back from the rest of them. He walked to the window overlooking the front of the building so that he could see the snowmobiles.

  The air started to crackle around him, a visible purple cloud of electricity, only instead of growing in colour and intensity, it spluttered and faded.

  “CJ?” Jamie-Lyn said.

  “Just give me a second,” he said, waving her concern away.

  Again, he tried to summon his ability, and this time, the effect lasted even less time before it died around him with a loud bang. The bang caused the overhead lights to momentarily surge with power before the bulbs exploded. There was a loud explosion from the kitchen area as multiple appliances were infused with the same surge before they too overloaded.

  “OW!” Link cried out as the computer exploded in front of him in a spray of showering white sparks that made him jump backwards.

  “Performance issues, big guy?” Crimson said, deriding CJ.

  “YOU OKAY?” Jamie-Lyn called over to Link.

  “A little singed but I’ll live,” he called back.

  “You get anything?” Jesus asked him.

  “Sorry, no, not enough time,” Link said as he examined the computer. “And this bloody thing’s fried now, along with everything else electrical.”

  “CJ?” Jamie-Lyn prompted again.

  “I’m…, I’m sorry,” CJ responded, confused. “I don’t understand. This has never happened to me before.”

  CJ held a clenched fist out, and for a moment, it glowed purple, but it did not fire an energy blast, no matter how hard he tried to force it.

  “I… I don’t have anything left!” the tall green alien said in a confused tone. “I’m powerless…”

  “Okay… okay, we don’t have time for postmortems,” Jesus said into the shocked silence. “Right then, we need to make sure that the doors are all secure. Go. GO!” he ordered.

  They split up into several directions and rushed towards the edges of the building, looking for potential entry points.

  With the building having glass walls all the way round, the team all found themselves staring out into the white at different points of view, but they all saw the same thing.

  Slowly emerging from the tree line walked multiple figures. They were all varying shapes and sizes, but all wore long, white, hooded robes that obscured their faces. All of the figures held long, wooden handled, curved, tall, bladed tools that looked like a cross between a sword and an axe.

  Crimson probably best summed up their emotions in a muttered single word.

  “Bollocks.”

  ----------

  chapter 33

  UNEXPECTED CALLERS

  Simon Clermont did his best to hold onto his temper, but it wasn’t easy given the lack of answers he was currently receiving.

  “How can you not know?” he demanded through gritted teeth.

  The police commissioner sitting opposite him across the long table shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  “We have… never encountered anything quite like this, sir,” Graham Travis replied.

  Clermont caught Field Marshall Hague stifling a smirk at his police-equivalent’s unease.

  “And you?” Clermont said, addressing the military officer. “What have you to say about what happened at our country’s seat of power?”

  This time it was Hague’s turn to shift uncomfortably.

  “Well…, um prime minister…, what we can…, or rather what we believe…, at this particular stage…”

  “So in other words, you know bugger all as well!” Clermont barked.

  “As I said, sir, this is a rather…, unprecedented situation,” Travis began awkwardly.

  “I’m well aware of that, commissioner, but are you telling me that you have no ideas? Either of you?”

  The two men looked downwards at the table.

  “Well that’s just fan-bloody-tastic! Surely there must be someone we can call upon to give us answers?”

  “There is one person, sir, but…, well unfortunately he is currently on the most wanted list,” Hague offered.

  “So in other words, there’s no one from this sodding planet that’s capable of giving me answers? A good man… men… died,” Clermont corrected himself. “Good people,” he added. “What am I supposed to tell their loved ones? What the hell am I supposed to tell the public for that matter? Have you any idea just how far the FTSE dropped this morning?”

  “A lot, I’m guessing,” Hague said.

  “Well you’d guess correct, Field Marshall Hague, or would you prefer to become simply Mr Hague?”

  “No, sir,” the officer replied quickly.

  “Then get me answers, gentlemen, and get them quickly. Now get the hell out.”

  The two men left quickly, suitably scolded, and Clermont waited until they’d left and closed the door behind them before he slumped down into his chair.

  The attack on Number 10 had left him badly shaken, and as yet, he had no idea just who was behind the attack.

  The general consensus in the media had been to lay the blame at the feet of Cosmic Jones and the Queen’s Guard.

  There had been no official statement as to the perpetrators, and as far as he knew, no one he’d spoken to had found a single piece of evidence.

  The media speculation being presented as fact was only muddying the waters further at a time when the country needed strong and stable leadership, something that he was determined to give, but with an election looming, and his advisors divided as to whether or not to proceed, he was stuck in no-man’s land.

  He hadn’t even had the time to process losing Ken in the attack. The man had sacrificed himself to save the prime minister – maybe it was his job, or maybe, even if he’d been a plumber, he’d have still thrown himself on the live grenade.

  His head was spinning now and threatening to spin out of control. He had so many plates spinning in the air at once that it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep them up.

  There was a bottle of exquisite brandy sitting on a sideboard and it was calling his name.

  The past few nights he had found it nigh on impossible to sleep without first passing out.

  His wife had, of course, noticed the problem, but he’d quickly had her prescribed sleeping medication at their doctor’s behest, refusing such tablets for himself, of course. It just wouldn’t been the thing to do to have the country’s leader in need of such help. He was effectively a nation’s father, and no one wanted the instability of seeing their father struggle.

  He was staring at the enticing decanter, debating a refill, when the door opened. There were only two people he knew that had a no knocking policy, and his wife was currently in a private therapy session.

  “What is it, Dennison?” he asked without looking around as he drained his medicinal glass.

  “A word, sir.”

  “Any particular one?”
Clermont replied tartly.

  “Very droll, sir.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I was just wondering what our next move will be? Parliament is offering a pause in the election after… well, after what happened.”

  “You think that we should take the pause in play?”

  “As always, there are two sides to every argument, sir. We could use the time to regroup, to find out who’s responsible, to show strong and effective leadership.”

  “But?”

  “Well, we could look weak to the people: a government and a prime minister running scared. An inability to protect yourself could be seen as an inability to protect the people. How can Simon Clermont keep a country safe when he can’t even look after his own home?”

  “So we should push on? That is your advice?” he asked as he refilled his glass from the decanter.

  “It would seem the prudent course of action, sir.”

  “Tell me something, Dennison? How exactly is the view from the cheap seats back there?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I mean, it must be nice to be the man behind the throne rather than the one sitting on it; not a whole lot of risk to stick a neck out when it’s not your own, I’m guessing?”

  “I’m offended, sir.”

  “Are you? Are you really? Seems to me that you get to ride my coattails all the way into Number 10 without ever risking your own ass! Instead, you can just hang mine out to dry and walk away if things go sour.”

  “Have I not served you well, sir? Have I not been at your side for the entire journey?”

  “Oh yes, and it was a first-class one all the way.”

  “And do you honestly believe that you would be here right now if it wasn’t for me?”

  “You?” Clermont exclaimed as he slammed down his crystal glass, hard enough to spill some of his medicine over the top and onto the table.

  “Me, sir.”

  “You have a mighty fine opinion of yourself, Dennison.”

  “And you are drunk, Simon.”

  The number of uses of his first name by his aide could be counted on one hand. During their long association, he had been ‘Mr Clermont’ or ‘sir’ long before he had ever risen to the highest position in the land.