Straybeck Rising: Calloway Blood: Book one (Calloway Blood 1)

by Michael James Lynch

  The gunnerman made a snort of agreement and then passed his card back through the glass screen. Robb forced himself to walk calmly beyond the turn of the road, only then breaking into a jog once again.

  He made it home in half the time it usually took and staggered to the door. His legs burned hot with lactic acid and felt as though they could buckle at any moment. Even so, he couldn’t afford to rest for a moment. He burst through the front door, calling for Eliza with the last of his breath before collapsing in a fit of coughing.

  “Oh my God,” she said, rushing through from the kitchen. “What’s happened?”

  The sound of a diesel engine reached them from outside. Robb pushed her away and went into the lounge where he lifted the net curtains and glanced onto the street.

  “Shit,” he hissed.

  “Robb? What is it? You’re scaring me?”

  “The gunnermen are here. It’s a raid.”

  Eliza’s hands trembled and she stared open-mouthed.

  “Listen to me,” Robb continued. “In the corner of Ryan’s room there’s a loose floorboard. You’ll find pamphlets, magazines and a covert camera hidden there.”

  Two car doors slammed shut and he heard footsteps on the path.

  “Go,” he said. “I’ll stall them.”

  “Okay,” Eliza mumbled, then she dashed up the stairs.

  A furious hammering set up at the front door, rattling through the house. Robb checked his appearance in the hall mirror and slowed his breathing. After a moments pause, the banging sounded up again and a low voice shouted through his letterbox. “It’s the gunnermen. Open your door.”

  The unmistakeable outline of a sevener drifted past the lounge window, presumably to guard the back door. At least Kellie had been true to his word. When the third bout of knocking shook the front door, Robb quickly untucked his shirt and loosened the belt on his trousers. He opened the door and then went through the charade of re-tucking himself in front of the gunnerman that was waiting there.

  “Sorry, I was taking a leak.”

  He seemed oblivious to the explanation though and shouldered past Robb into the hallway. Before he shut the door, Robb caught sight of a jeep parked outside. There was a second gunnerman waiting in the driver’s seat who seemed content to wait outside.

  “What can I do for you?” he said obligingly.

  “We’ve had a report that your son, Ryan Calloway, is involved in an anti-government group.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Watch it,” the gunnerman warned, his face only inches from Robb’s. Despite the provocation, he kept his expression neutral, using every ounce of self-control to lock down the anger he felt rising. Eliza still needed time.

  “Can I at least ask what he’s supposed to have done?”

  “No. You can take me to his room or get out of the way.”

  Robb made a note of the twin crosses on his epaulette. “Of course I will Sergeant. But don’t I get to see a warrant if you want to search the house.”

  The gunnerman shoved his forearm into Robb’s chest, bending his back the wrong way across the bannister.

  “One more word and you’re coming with me, you old bastard.”

  “It’s alright Robb,” a voice called from overhead. Eliza appeared at the landing and gave a charming smile to the gunnerman.

  “Please Sergeant, he doesn’t mean to be obstructive. We’re just not used to having gunnermen here.”

  “Bollocks,” the sergeant scoffed. “I’ve seen his pre-cons. He knows what’s what.”

  Before the conversation deteriorated further, the front door slid open and an imposing figure ducked beneath the lintel. It was impossible not to be impressed by how huge he was in the confined space. Even the gunnermen momentarily checked his attitude.

  “I’m going up,” he said, shoving Robb as he stalked past. “You watch him.”

  The sevener raised one eyebrow at the command but said nothing. In a matter of seconds, the house was echoing to the sounds of a search. There were several bangs followed by an enormous thud that shook the ceiling, showering dust and flecks of plaster from around the lightbulb.

  Unable to control himself, Robb strode towards the staircase until a large hand settled on his shoulder. He spun around angrily, but the sevener just gave a placid shake of his head.

  “Kellie told me you had a temper.” He pointed to the ceiling where the thuds and bangs had resumed. “If you start arguing though, that one’ll lock you up and tear the house apart anyway. So just take a deep breath. They’re only things.”

  Reluctantly he gave a nod of agreement and only then did the sevener remove the hand from his shoulder.

  “So what’s this about?” Robb said eventually. “Why are they here? Why now?”

  The sevener shrugged his massive shoulders. “You’re better off asking Kellie about that. He just asked me to keep the peace.”

  “And how’s that going?” Robb said testily as another thud shook the ceiling.

  “No one’s been shot yet.”

  When the gunnerman clumped downstairs empty-handed, Robb was waiting in the hallway. The sevener had been making small talk and trying to explain why the winter snows this year would be the worst for a generation.

  All Robb’s attention was on the gunnerman though and judging by the scowl on his face, he’d found nothing. For a moment he dared to hope that the worst was over. The ice had held beneath their feet one more day. That was until the door opened and Ryan came into the already crowded hallway.

  Chapter 40

  “What’s going on?” Ryan said, his voice cold as winter.

  It was the first time Robb had seen him in nearly three days and although his face was beaten up and clothes dishevelled, he’d lost none of that defiance in his eyes. It was exactly what the gunnerman was after. All they needed was an excuse.

  “Are you Ryan Calloway?”

  “What’s going on?” Ryan repeated, looking only at his dad.

  “Ryan, just talk to the sergeant and answer his question,” Robb said quietly. “It’ll be alright.”

  “Are you Ryan Calloway?” the gunnerman repeated.

  “I don’t have to tell you anything,” Ryan snarled and then left the way he had come in.

  The gunnerman was on him immediately, relishing the chance to vent some anger. He kicked the back of Ryan’s knee which sent him sprawling to the concrete. Ryan leapt to his feet and squared up to the sergeant. A gloved fist thumped him hard and Ryan staggered backwards, clutching his jaw.

  Robb limped outside and recognised all too well the expression of unthinking anger that had appeared on his son’s face. The gunnerman saw it too and snatched the steel baton from his belt. In one quick arc he swung it down towards Ryan’s skull.

  Robb caught the metal rod and halted its fall. The gunnerman wheeled round to face him and delivered a solid head-butt to the edge of his cheekbone. Robb’s face flashed with pain, but he never loosened his grip.

  The sergeant tried to wrench it free, but Robb clung on so fiercely that his arm just shook up and down. With his left hand, the sergeant swung at Robb, hitting him once again on the cheek. The older man doubled over and at that moment Ryan ran forwards. Instantly Robb was up and thrust his free arm at his son, palm outwards.

  “Stay back,” he yelled.

  If this was to end as he hoped, then Ryan had to hold his temper long enough for someone else to intervene. His son continued to rage though and somewhere nearby Eliza screamed as the gunnerman threw a final punch. Robb braced himself for an impact, but it never came. Instead, a huge arm had hooked into the gunnerman’s elbow, stopping the attack as easily as a teacher would settle a playground fight.

  “Enough,” the sevener boomed. “No officer of the Premier shall harm a citizen of these lands without due provocation.”

  The gunnerman was stunned. He untangled his arm from the bigger man and even released his hold on the baton.

  “You can’t do that,” he sputtered. “I
’ve got a sworn warrant for the boy.”

  “To search his room. Which you did and very thoroughly from what I heard. Did you find anything?”

  The gunnerman’s jaw worked silently for a few moments. “But the boy tried to escape lawful custody and then the old bastard helped him resist arrest.”

  “I didn’t see that. The boy was never in lawful custody. So he couldn’t have been escaping. And if he was never in lawful custody,” the sevener reasoned calmly, “then there was no arrest to resist. As far as I’m aware, there’s no law against a father stopping his son getting a cracked skull.”

  In the silence that followed, Robb passed the steel baton to the sevener who in turn offered it to the gunnerman. It was snatched back and the gunnermen held them with a murderous expression, eyeballing first Robb and then Ryan.

  “You’ll see me again,” he warned. “I won’t forget what happened here.”

  “I sincerely hope not,” the sevener smiled, still as water.

  With a final curse, the gunnerman stomped back to his jeep and sped away.

  “There goes my lift back,” the sevener sighed. “I dare say there’ll be repercussions for today. But what’s done is done.” He leaned closer to Robb, seeing the blood on his face. “You’ll want to get that eye looked at. He’s made a hell of a mess.”

  “I’ll patch him up,” Eliza said, stepping up to her husband and examining the injury. The entire right side of his face was swelling up and the skin around the eye had sliced open.

  The sevener gazed upwards and smiled at the first white flakes that tumbled from the sky and settled on his deep blue tunic.

  “At least I was right about the snows,” he smiled. Then he placed one arm around Ryan’s shoulders and stooped to whisper in his ear.

  As the words were spoken Ryan turned to his father and for the briefest of moments Robb saw his son from five years ago. For those few seconds, all the confusion and all the fear and all the pain were laid bare in his eyes. Robb took a tentative step forwards, but then the walls came up and Ryan backed away.

  “I’ve just come for some clothes,” he said quietly. “I won’t be in your way for long.”

  Avoiding eye-contact, he returned to the house and went upstairs. Eliza stifled a sob and Robb drew her into an embrace, but when he turned back to thank the sevener, he had already disappeared.

  Chapter 41

  “What were they looking for?” Alia said.

  “I don’t know, but they absolutely trashed my room. My desk was overturned, the curtain rail ripped from the wall and the bed smashed into pieces. They even sliced open my mattress and pulled out the insides.”

  It was about an hour since Ryan had returned from his parent’s house with a rucksack of belongings. He had hugged his mum before going, but nothing more had passed between him and his father.

  “How was John?” Alia asked quietly. She’d been so upset after what happened in the Trade District that afternoon. Even more so when she’d realised that he and John were brothers.

  “He wasn’t there. He hasn’t been home since…since you spoke to him.” Ryan sighed deeply. “At least he didn’t have to see the gunnermen.”

  “I suppose so. Although it would have been nice for you both to make up.”

  “We will. I’ll go and see him this week. He’ll understand.”

  While Ryan was out, Alia had made a token effort of cleaning the lounge and kitchen. The clothes were either folded or deposited into a wicker basket and a stack of crockery was standing on the kitchen side while another load soaked in the sink. They were lying on the sofa side by side, legs entwined, staring at the empty fireplace.

  “I still don’t get why they came. Why would they suddenly pick your house?”

  Ryan had wrestled with the same thought since he’d seen that gunnerman jeep outside the house. He wondered if the two gunnermen from the train had reported him. But why would they give his card to Gerren? And why bother with a search warrant at all? Why not just arrest him for how he’d acted on the train?

  Then his thoughts had turned to Gerren, wondering if the ex-gunnerman had turned him in. He replayed their conversation from the storage shed to check if he had let some detail slip, something that could have made the old guard suspicious.

  Again, Ryan dismissed the idea. Why would he have shared the flask of tea and told him those old stories only to turn him in later. In fact, hadn’t Gerren given away much more about himself than Ryan? He realised that Alia was still waiting for an answer.

  “I’m not sure why they came,” but as soon as he said it, Ryan’s thoughts fell to his dad. Hadn’t he been the one that betrayed his best friends all those years ago? The last time they spoke he had been furious about Ryan bringing a covert camera into the house.

  Then he pictured the swelling and blood around his dad’s face after he’d taken those punches for him. He remembered too what the sevener had whispered on the doorstep. Ryan shook his head as though disturbing a fly. There was just so much that didn’t make sense.

  In any case, he was more worried about all his stuff that had disappeared. The pamphlets that Brynne had lent him and the wreckage of the covert camera were missing. Worse still, his journal had gone too.

  “Ryan? What are you involved in?”

  He had known this question was coming, but even now was unsure how to answer.

  “What do you mean?” he stalled.

  Alia rolled around to face him and arched one eyebrow.

  “You know what I mean,” she said. “The first day we met, you were hiding from the gunnermen. You had those posters, remember? You don’t go to school and you don’t work, and yet somehow you’re always busy.”

  He tried to think of an excuse. Something that would explain it all without letting his secrets go. He could almost hear Brynne’s voice in his head.

  Never tell outsiders. We can’t trust them. We are alone in this.

  Ryan was tired though. Tired of being alone and tired of keeping secrets.

  “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I haven’t been honest with you. I’m part of a group of people who are fighting against Premier Talis.”

  He nearly laughed out loud when he heard himself say it. To her credit though, Alia kept quiet and Ryan took that as a signal to continue. He always thought it would be more difficult to tell her. That he would end up hiding parts from her. Once he had started though, it was impossible to stop. He told her about Brynne and the work they did together. He told her about the forger and how Brynne had killed him for being an informer. Through it all, she listened without comment, only withdrawing when he spoke about his dad’s past and how he had betrayed his friends to save his own life.

  “How do you know all that?” she asked.

  “I saw his confession on an old recording at Brynne’s.”

  “I don’t understand,” Alia said. “Why would he show you that?”

  “He didn’t. I just kind of found it when he was out.”

  “Did you ask your dad about it?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  Ryan laid his head back against the arm of the sofa. His breathing was slow and steady and his muscles relaxed. The weight of Alia’s body was comforting and for the first time he could remember, he felt free. He gazed at the girl beside him, marvelling at what he had just unloaded on her and how unquestioning her loyalty seemed.

  Alia’s eyes flicked open and she raised her chin. Ryan angled his face until their lips met and their tongues pushed in and out of each other’s mouths. They shared a slow, deep kiss and then Ryan drew back, resting his forehead against hers. A tremble of nerves rippled through his body.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  In the dead of night he lay awake on the sofa listening to Alia as she tried to comfort her father. He had woken the house with a dreadful howling and almost an hour later he was still whimpering like an animal whenever she tried to leave the room. Despite the curfew, her mother had left the hou
se when the noise first started. Neither of them tried to stop her.

  Eventually, Alia returned to the lounge where Ryan was lacing his boots. “Where are you going?” she said, a note of hurt in her voice.

  “Don’t worry, I’m coming back, I just need to see someone.”

  “Now? It’s the middle of the night. There’s a curfew.”

  Ryan gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “That’s why I need to go now. It’s the best chance I’ve got of seeing him.”

  “Is it because of my dad? Because he’ll sleep now, I promise.”

  Ryan stood up and pulled her into his arms. They kissed, softly at first and then with more passion. He stroked his fingers through her hair and then over the smooth skin of her neck. “I’m coming back,” he said quietly. “I just need to sort something out.”

  “Can’t it wait until morning?”

  He shook his head.

  “I won’t sleep now. Not until it’s done. Besides, you need the rest more than I do right now.”

  Reluctantly Alia agreed and then allowed herself to be fussed as she took Ryan’s place on the sofa. He gently swaddled her in the thread-bare blanket and kissed her forehead.

  “Are you going to see Brynne?” she said quietly.

  He nodded.

  “Please don’t go.”

  “I’m going to talk to him. That’s all.”

  “Will you tell him that you’re not going to do it anymore?”

  Ryan’s jaw clenched tight. He didn’t want to lie, but he still wasn’t sure what he was going to say to Brynne.

  “I’ll sort it out,” he said. “Get some rest.”

  She closed her eyes and gave a contented murmur in response. Ryan had no doubt that she would be asleep before he reached the end of the drive.

  Even though the snow had been trying for hours, once outside he saw that only a light dusting showed on the side streets and the main roads were completely clear. Ryan was thankful for that, not wanting to leave a trail of footprints for the gunnermen to follow.

  It was a strange kind of compulsion that made him want to find Brynne now. So much had happened since he had been sent from the chapel and Ryan felt compelled to find Brynne and report in. There was the fight with the gunnermen; the conversation with Gerren at Obern station; finding out that John had been following him and then of course the raid at his house. Ryan’s head was spinning and he needed the old man’s counsel more than ever. As he approached in the darkness though, the chapel - that had once been so welcoming - cut a forbidding silhouette in the struggling moonlight.