The One Percent (Episode 2): The One Percent

by Heller, Erik P.

  I had no idea what had happened in the last day and a bit with her, but I can tell you now, I don’t think I’d ever been as excited as I was running down those stairs.

  I unlocked the door and grabbed the winder then slid out through the narrow gap and stood up. Mungo stood next to me.

  “Is this him, miss?” the sergeant asked.

  “It is,” Daisy said, her face now very serious.

  “Francis Lanchcombe? I’m here to arrest you for the murder of Mr Stephen Simms. You can say what you like because the old rules don’t apply any more. Put down your weapons and turn around.” I listened to the sergeant speak while he held his gun on me. I dropped the winder, and slowly removed both the knife in my pocket and the gun in my waistband, placed them on the floor, and turned around.

  As soon as I turned he stepped up behind me and bound my wrists with a plastic tie, then stepped back.

  “Cover me while I search him, Jones.” One of the four men ran back and took his place, while he patted me down. Finding nothing, he turned me around, so I could see Daisy. She was climbing back into the lorry.

  The sergeant stepped back and reclaimed his weapon.

  “Is there anyone else inside the building?”

  I was so confused. I didn’t know what was going on even though the sergeant had already told me, so I said nothing, trying to work out how the hell I was supposed to get out of this situation.

  “Jones, get that shutter wound up.”

  “Yes, sergeant,” Jones said and picked up the winder from close to my feet. I thought about booting him in the face and grabbing his weapon, but I knew it wasn’t going to work. The sergeant had me covered and didn’t look like he had a nerve in his body.

  “There are two other people inside, Sergeant,” I said. “neither of them had anything to do with this.”

  “Thank you, sir. Patterson, Davies, get inside the building and bring out the others, and Patterson?”

  “Yes, sarge,” a large friendly-looking private said.

  “For god’s sake go easy this time, OK.”

  “Yes, sarge, will do.”

  “There’s also a lot of weapons in there too, as well as a lot of gear,” I said.

  “Thank you, sir, we’ll make arrangements to come and get them later. Can you walk toward the lorry?”

  I nodded and set off. Mungo followed me.

  “Is that your dog?”

  “Errm, yes. He kind of adopted me.”

  “OK, sir. He can come along too. Can’t you boy?” The sergeant reached out a hand to pet Mungo, but the dog dropped his tail, raised his hackles, and growled deeply at him.

  “He’s friendly when you get to know him,” I said with a smile. The sergeant’s face dropped when I did that. Even men find my smile disconcerting.

  “You alright, you look like you’re in pain?”

  “Yes, I’m bloody fine,” I said.

  I could hear Lucy and David being escorted out of the building behind me and turned my head to see each soldier pushing them along.

  “Jones get that shutter down, check around the back to make sure the place is secure then get back here at the double. We need to get out of here like now.”

  Jones worked the handle as fast as he could, then when the shutter was down he disappeared around the side of the building. He was back in no time.

  “All locked up, sarge.”

  “Good lad. Help get these people loaded up.”

  The sergeant shouted for the other soldiers to get back in, while I was pushed and dragged up into the back. Mungo, protesting, Lucy, and David were helped in, then the soldiers piled in and finally the sergeant, who took up a post sitting at the back looking out through the open back of the truck.

  The truck manoeuvred out of the yard and a few seconds later we were on the move.

  I tried to lean forward to see Daisy, but she was sitting on the same side as me and several soldiers were in the way.

  “What’s going on, Frank?” Lucy asked quietly.

  The sergeant didn’t turn around but said, “Don’t talk to the prisoner please, miss.”

  All I could do was shrug in reply. I had no idea what was about to happen or why Daisy would have done such a thing, or even whether the military had the powers to arrest people any more.

  In the end all I could do was sit, wait, and hope that I wasn’t going to be taken away and shot in some kind of summary justice.

  End of Episode Two.

  I wish I had a great theme tune and five minutes of credits, but I don’t, so if you miss that, just whistle your favourite tune for a while and read my name. If not, just carry on with your day, with my thanks for reading.

  Erik P Heller-Author

  Note: In the tradition of the great Charles Dickens and many other authors, I have decided to publish this in easily digestible segments which will be published in the third week of each month starting with November 2018 with episodes 1-3. Thereafter there will be one full-length episode per month until my fingers fall off.

  The full-length episodes (from episode 2 on) will be about 30,000 words or so which should give a regular reader a few commutes/baths/bedtimes of entertainment—or misery if you don’t like the story.

  I hope you do enjoy the story and Frank’s weird journey. If you do and feel inclined to leave a review, I would be really grateful.

  As a sad sack who believes that one day, I might actually earn a crust from writing—I might be wrong—a review or twenty makes a huge difference.

  I don’t do mailing lists or the like, or for that matter social media so if you care about me in my lonely, draughty garret slaving by candlelight to produce the next episode, follow my author page on Amazon and prove it, and I hope you feel like buying/reading Episode 3 which is already out on Amazon.