Down: Trilogy Box Set

by Glenn Cooper

  Angus shooed the boys into the forest and Trevor crept a little closer to the Hellers along the tree line. It was hard to tell how many there were but it was at least a hundred, possibly many more. Some were on wagons, some on horseback. They were stopped on the road as if they had encountered a roadblock.

  Trevor rejoined the boys and told them they needed to travel the rest of the way through the woods.

  Andrew began to whimper. “Are we going to die?”

  Trevor was about to reassure him but Angus stepped in. “Listen to me, Andrew, we’re not going to die. We’re going to walk through the woods a ways, piece of cake, then we’re going to meet up with the SAS and then we’re going to go home.”

  The slender boy said, “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Look at that ruddy great sword in your hand. Danny, stay close to Andrew, all right?”

  Danny nodded.

  “Why not me?” Nigel asked.

  Angus grinned. “Because you’re going to protect me, you big oaf.”

  They got going and Trevor whispered to Angus, “You’re a born leader, know that?”

  “You think?”

  “I know.”

  When they got close to the Hellers milling on the road they veered further south to give them a wide berth. But Trevor didn’t want to lose contact with the road completely. After trekking for about a mile he told the boys to stay put beside a giant oak and proceeded to reconnoiter to the north.

  He crept up to the road and crouched low. To the west he saw the other side of the Heller crowd. His estimate of a few hundred was probably low. To the east he saw something altogether more appealing. Two SAS squaddies from Marsh’s A Group were pacing the road with their AK-47s, facing the Hellers off.

  Trevor started to backtrack to pick up the boys. His plan was to keep going through the woods until they were inside the SAS perimeter.

  “What was that?” Kevin said.

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Nigel said.

  “There it is again,” Kevin said.

  “I heard it too,” Danny said.

  It was a faint cry like a baby’s, scratchy and high-pitched.

  Kevin, the young outdoorsman, suddenly looked alarmed. “Shit. I know what that is. It’s a bear cub.”

  The mother, the size of a small car, lumbered into their midst and roared.

  Danny began to wave his sword furiously but Kevin whispered for him to stop. “Everyone, just freeze,” Kevin said.

  They heard another cub crying from behind the oak tree.

  The brown bear reared up on her hind legs until she was eight feet tall.

  Andrew began to run.

  Kevin shouted for him to stop.

  The bear got back on all fours and began to give chase. It was a race she was going to win.

  BOOM

  Trevor heard it.

  The Hellers heard it.

  The SAS soldiers heard it.

  Trevor got there first.

  The bear was a yard from Andrew, lying on its side and bleeding from a flank wound. Angus had the smoking pistol in his hand.

  Trevor didn’t have time to give praise or complicated instructions. They could hear Hellers coming through the woods toward them.

  “Follow me!” he shouted.

  They began running as fast as they could, jumping over roots and vines, dodging saplings and bushes. Trevor lost his bearings. He wasn’t sure where the SAS picket line was; he didn’t want to undershoot it. When he felt they’d gone far enough he angled to the north.

  They burst out onto the road at a bend. Trevor couldn’t see the SAS soldiers any longer but on the other side of the road, to the north, he picked up the familiar sight of the Sevenoaks rotting room.

  There was a rifle crack. A bullet cracked into a tree trunk, just to the left of Trevor’s head.

  “Cease fire! Cease fire, goddamn it.”

  It was Captain Marsh’s voice.

  Members of A Group, dirty and heavily bearded, emerged from hiding places in the grass and bushes.

  Marsh came running toward Trevor. He would have been unrecognizable were it not for his shiny bald head, his features hidden by mountain-man facial hair.

  “Jesus, Jones,” Marsh called out. “You actually found them.”

  “Come on, boys,” Trevor said to the lads. “Meet the good guys.”

  There were more rifle shots to the west.

  Marsh’s sergeant, who was one of the road sentries, came running around the bend, shouting, “They’re breaking through.”

  “Set up a new perimeter,” Marsh shouted to his men. “Jones, bring them this way!”

  They began running toward the hot zone. Marsh came alongside Trevor and said, “I thought there were ten of them?”

  “There were ten.”

  “Shit.”

  “How’s it been?” Trevor asked.

  “We’ve got three KIAs. Ammos’ running low. But we’ve got the bastards at a stalemate. Or we did.”

  Trevor glanced over his shoulder to make sure the boys were keeping pace. Andrew and Kevin had abandoned their swords and were pumping their arms as if a PE teacher were yelling at them to sprint to the finish line.

  “I’ve got to take the boys through,” Trevor said. “Has the hot zone expanded?”

  “Definitely. One of the Hellers snuck past two days ago and disappeared in an area we thought was safe. Any idea how long we’ve got till we’re recalled?”

  “No clue, sorry.”

  “We’ll keep going if we have to use the fucking rifles as clubs,” Marsh said. “I’m stopping here to cover you. Keep moving in that direction.”

  Trevor stopped to shake Marsh’s hand and give him his crossbow and bolts. The boys pulled up.

  “Lads, this is Captain Marsh, 22 SAS Regiment, the best fighting men in Britain.”

  “Glad you made it,” Marsh said.

  Puffing and out of breath, Angus said, “Captain Marsh, I’m Angus Slaine. My father is …”

  “I know who he is. Tell him we’re almost out of ammo. Now go!”

  Trevor told the boys carrying weapons to drop them. He led them at a dead run.

  He heard Marsh and others yelling at them to keep going, keep going, then all of a sudden it was quiet.

  The rough fields were gone, replaced by overgrown but tame lawn grass. In the distance were redbrick buildings with slate roofs and football practice grounds.

  From behind he heard small voices.

  The six boys were blinking and pointing.

  “It’s Belmeade,” Kevin said. “We’re back.”

  Trevor wasn’t going to let his guard down. They were in the hot zone. There could be Hellers about. For all he knew the physical rules might have changed: they could be in danger of hurtling back across the dimensional divide.

  “Let’s keep going till we see the authorities,” Trevor said. “Stay together. Stay vigilant.”

  “Mr. Jones,” Nigel said, “our dormitory is just over there. Do you think we could stop in and change our undershorts?”

  They all laughed for the first time in a long while.

  Jeremy Slaine’s private secretary barged into his office at Manchester City Hall.

  Slaine looked up, annoyed by his failure to at least knock.

  “They’re back,” the secretary declared.

  “Who? Who’s back?”

  “The boys. And Trevor Jones.”

  Slaine removed his reading glasses and took a slow, deep breath. “All of them?”

  “Six. Trevor Jones just brought them out of the Sevenoaks zone.”

  “Angus?”

  The secretary closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes, thank God. Angus is safe.”

  Slaine stood but showing the effects of lightheadedness, he quickly lowered himself back down. “I’ll call his mother. Get me the details on the other five boys who are safe and the four who are not. I’ll need their parents’ numbers. Keep this out of the press to give me a little time. And could you get the a
rmy to bring Mr. Jones and my son up here to Manchester immediately?”

  Jeremy Slaine had rented a house for him and his wife in the Manchester suburb of Hale Barns. While Jeremy possessed the storied family history, Elena, his wife, contributed the serious money and they had decamped from London with a staff. She had ordered the cook to prepare her son’s favorite meal, lasagna, and with little to do, she stood at the sitting room windows staring over the broad lawn and picking at her cuticles.

  Her husband’s ministerial Jaguar appeared in a convoy of black SUVs and police motorcycle outriders, crunching the pebbled driveway.

  “Jeremy,” she called out. “He’s here.”

  Angus and Trevor emerged from the Jaguar wearing their filthy clothes.

  “Nice place,” Trevor said, taking in the estate.

  “Bit small by our standards,” Angus said.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Actually, I’m not.”

  Trevor expected Angus’s parents to be rushing outside but it was Slaine’s private secretary who emerged from the house.

  “Welcome home, Angus, your parents are inside,” the secretary said. “Mr. Jones, congratulations on your accomplishment.”

  Neither Angus nor his parents ran toward each other. The boy had to approach them where they stood in the sitting room.

  His mother began to cry, “Oh, Angus, look at you.”

  The boy looked at a mirror and said, “Lost a bit of weight.”

  She gave him a quick hug and overcome by his body odor, she let go.

  “Welcome home, son,” his father said, reaching for a hand. “We were very worried.”

  “Four didn’t make it,” Angus said.

  “So I understand. I’ve reached out to the boys’ parents. I’ll need an account of what happened, of course.”

  Trevor jumped in, “Bit early for that.”

  “Yes, when he’s able,” Slaine said. “Mr. Jones, I’m sure it wasn’t easy to accomplish what you did.”

  “Yeah, definitely not easy peasy,” Trevor replied, “but Angus and the lads have been through more than me. More than you can imagine.”

  “Well,” his mother said to her son, uncomfortably, “why don’t you run upstairs? First door on your right. Have a good wash and put on some fresh clothes. When you come down cook has prepared your favorite—beef lasagna.”

  Angus blinked a few times and began to cry.

  “It doesn’t have to be lasagna,” his mother sputtered.

  Trevor put his arm around the boy and said, “It’ll be okay, Angus. Give it time. Lots of time. I’m sure you’ll have people to talk to about all of this.”

  Jeremy Slaine looked on helplessly as another man tended to his boy.

  “Will I see you again?” Angus asked.

  “’Course you will. I’ll give you my details and when I get back we can text and all.”

  “Back?”

  “Yeah, I’m just going to nip over one more time. Frankly, I’m already missing the food over there.”

  The crying turned to laughter. Angus imitated his father and extended a hand.

  “Sod that,” Trevor said, giving the boy a giant hug instead.

  Trevor’s meeting with the prime minister and Jeremy Slaine was winding down. He had felt awkward smelling like a pig in muck and scarfing down tasty but ridiculously delicate finger food, and now he was itching to get back down south.

  “So you’re committed to returning,” the prime minister said. “No one in Britain would fault you for standing down and having a rest. No one individual can be responsible for the success of a mission.”

  “You know how it is, sir,” Trevor said. “When you’re in the army and you’re up against it, you’re not really thinking about the mission so much as the man next to you. John Camp and Emily Loughty and the others are still there, still in harm’s way.”

  “Well, it’s really very admirable,” Lester said.

  “And you’ve no idea whether Dr. Loughty was able to find Dr. Loomis?” Slaine said.

  “None whatsoever. As I said, the last I saw them, they were on the way to the continent.”

  “Well, I don’t need to tell you,” Lester said, “but we’re in a bad way here. Hellers continue to come through via Upminster particularly, London is a no-go zone under military control, our economy is in the crapper, and morale is beyond terrible. If and when you see Loughty and Camp, please tell them that speed is of the essence.”

  Trevor used the latter as an excuse to say he needed to be on the move.

  The prime minister said, “And thank you for bringing Jeremy’s son home.”

  Slaine seemed surprised by the comment and said, “Yes, thank you, Mr. Jones. I may have neglected to express my gratitude sufficiently.”

  Boarding the helicopter on the roof of the Town Hall, Trevor asked one of the crewmen if he could use his mobile phone. He had gotten her number from one of the PM’s staff and he eagerly punched it in.

  Arabel answered.

  “Hey, it’s me. Trevor.”

  “Oh my lord! You’re safe.”

  “Yeah, how are you?”

  “I’m still up in Edinburgh with my mum and dad and the kids. I’m okay.”

  “How’re they doing?”

  “They still have nightmares but during the day they seem all right. Where are you? Is Emily with you?”

  He told her what was happening and wished he could have been more reassuring about Emily.

  “I’m going back via Dartford. I’m hoping she and John’ll be along soon. I just wanted to hear your voice before I left.”

  “I miss you,” she said.

  “I miss you too.”

  “Please come back to me.”

  “The thought of that’s the thing keeping me going.”

  The winds were favorable and the seas were calm enabling the French galleon to make the crossing in less than two days.

  Captain La Rue knocked on the door to his own cabin.

  “Are you awake?” he called out.

  John opened the door.

  “We are in the estuary,” the captain said.

  “So I see,” John said.

  “You may come topside whenever you are ready.”

  “I’m sure you’re anxious to get your quarters back.”

  “And my ship,” La Rue said. “You have no idea, monsieur.”

  John had been pleased but not shocked to find La Rue still at anchor at Calais. A bucket of gold was too much for the Breton to leave on the table. It was enough to make him one of the richer commoners in Brest. The captain’s eyes had lit up as he counted the bag of coins and only then did he ask about the absence of Kyle and the two SAS soldiers.

  “I am sorry for your brother,” La Rue had said, “but this Hell, she is a hard mistress.”

  Loomis was still asleep. John hadn’t loved sharing a cabin with him but they weren’t about to let him out of their sight.

  “Tell him it’s time to shove off,” John told Emily.

  Emily nodded and poked his shoulder. “Paul, we’re almost here.”

  Loomis opened his eyes. “Thank God. England.”

  Lance Corporal Scarlet was the first to spot the masts. He raced around the hot-zone perimeter to Captain Yates’ lean-to.

  “You sure it’s them?” Yates asked.

  “Can’t be positive but it’s a four-master flying the same colors.”

  “Have the men fall in,” Yates said, pulling up his tattered trousers. “If it’s them they’re going to need an escort.”

  As the longboat was being lowered John tensed at the sound of a gunshot. His concern quickly melted away.

  “Now that’s a lovely sight,” he told Emily.

  The men of B Group had secured the riverbank and a few nearby Hellers were scattering at the warning shot.

  The French oarsmen landed the boat and waited only long enough for John, Emily, and Loomis to jump off before pushing off.

  Yates turned gloomy when he saw men were m
issing.

  John pre-empted the questions. “I’m sorry, Captain. Culpepper and O’Malley didn’t make it.”

  “And your brother?” Yates asked.

  “No.”

  “Is this Loomis?”

  “Yeah, we found him.”

  Emily saw him first. He’d been standing behind a taller trooper. “Trevor!”

  Trevor smiled and waved then darkened when he counted heads.

  He rushed forward and said, “Kyle?”

  John gulped.

  “I’m sorry, guv,” Trevor said. “Really and truly sorry.”

  “Why are you here?” Emily asked, embracing him.

  “I found what was left of the schoolboys and brought them home at Sevenoaks. I crossed at Dartford yesterday and here you are.”

  “You’re mad to come back,” she said.

  “Well, I missed you a lot and you weren’t answering your emails.”

  “Trevor, I’d like you to meet my old boss, Paul Loomis.”

  Loomis nodded at him. “Emily’s told me about you,” he said.

  “Let’s get you folks back up to our camp,” Yates said. “I don’t like leaving the HZ unguarded.”

  On the way back John walked with Yates and Trevor. He asked Yates how his group had fared. “It doesn’t look like you’ve lost any men,” he said.

  “We’ve been fortunate. Two lightly wounded, is all. Not much ammo left though.”

  “Have they been attacking?”

  “At first. They’d mass and try to break through this way and that. We had success taking out the ones with firearms though it’s the bows and arrows that’ve caused us the biggest headaches. Crossbows are the worst. Funnily enough, we did well with a low-tech solution. Wooden shields believe it or not.”

  “I told you you’d improvise.”

  “So when can we pack it in and go home?” the captain asked.

  “Hopefully soon. Emily’s going to go back to implement Loomis’ fix. We’ll ask her how long it’ll take when he’s told her the technical details.”

  “You mean he hasn’t told her yet?” Trevor asked.

  “He’s milking it.”

  Emily walked with Loomis. “So, here we are,” she said.

  Loomis looked around. “I was seized here by sweepers and taken to that loathsome man, Solomon Wisdom, who sold me to the Russian ambassador.”