by D. S Mac
“Wow, Hannah, you’re a killjoy, you know.”
Hannah didn’t react.
“I’m driving.”
They arrived on the scene to an apparent bloodbath. The whole street had been cordoned off on both ends, and a large white tent was erected right outside the station entrance. Streams of blood pooled down the side of the road where the rain had carried it. Hannah approached the officer at the cordon.
“DI Chasey and DI Hendrick.” Hannah grabbed the tape and sidestepped underneath it. She held it up for Jason to follow.
“Thanks. I’ll go talk to the crowd, see what they know.”
“Sure, I’ll see what’s going on down there.” Hannah gave a quick nod towards the tent and strolled over.
She lifted the tent flap. The copper tang of blood was fresh in the air. Hannah thrust a hand to her mouth to stifle a gag. Three bodies, all three of them men, clad in black and twisted in grotesque angles. She noted that this was consistent with a hard impact. After noticing glistening holes in each of their foreheads, she stopped writing and squatted next to the first man to get a closer look. Upon closer inspection, all three men had been shot once to the head, execution style. She took photos on her tablet to go with her notes. The bile in Hannah’s throat threatened to resurface, so she hastily exited the tent.
After taking in several long clean breaths, she made her way towards the underground entrance. The descent was eerie. The tap-tap of her short heels on the concrete surface echoed down and back again. When she reached the bottom, she was once again met with the acrid copper smell. After finding the source, both of whom had also been shot multiple times. What was strange about these two was that they were dressed in stale old overcoats and worn clothing. They looked homeless, unlike the guys outside, who wore all black. Were they victims of the wrong place, wrong time variety, or were they involved? Hannah unlocked her tablet, took several photos of the two men, and then looked around the rest of the room. In the far corner by the maintenance doors, she noticed two abandoned assault rifles. After she had taken photos of them, she opened up the Metropolitan PD app.
This was yet another app built and distributed by Forrest Futures, and it was a pioneering piece of police equipment. It had a particle scanner that could detect fingerprints and bodily fluids using the array of cameras and lasers on the tablet. After flicking out the stand, Hannah aimed the tablet towards the guns, placed it down, and set it to scan. Red beams canvassed the localised area like a mini nightclub. They tuned into the weapons and ran across them in wide beams. After a few minutes, those beams became more focused when they found a point of interest.
“The chief wasn’t joking when he said bloodbath!” Jason had appeared behind Hannah, who was startled when she hadn’t heard his footsteps and jumped slightly when he spoke. Her hand went instinctively to her gun.
“What are you doing? Sneaking up on me!”
“Sorry, Hannah, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Hannah let out a sigh and took her hand away from her weapon. “What did you find out?”
“Nothing of use. The crowd out there mostly hid away when they heard gunshots,” Jason said as he crouched by the tablet.
“As expected, not many people would run towards that sound.” Hannah joined Jason as the tablet flashed with a pop-up. She reached down and pressed ‘view result’. “Oh shit! We have a match. Results are downloading.” Hannah got up from her crouch. Even though she was relatively fit, squatting for extended periods did her knees in.
A ping from the tablet signalled that the file was ready to open. Hannah pressed it and read the findings. “Oh, it has no name, but it has a match to an old case file… hold on, I recognise this case number.” She bashed a few more buttons, and her mouth dropped open in shock.
“What is it, Hannah?”
“The cold case I’ve been looking at for years, the bridge attack. This matches a print recovered from the remains of the van.” Hannah’s brain could be seen working overtime from the outside, sweat glistened off her forehead, and her eyes had a faraway look.
“How is this and that terror attack connected?” Jason leaned in closer to try to get Hannah’s attention.
“Oh… I don’t know, but we are sure as hell going to find out. Let’s get the full forensics team down here.”
“Sure, I’ll make the call.” Jason pulled out his phone and stepped away. Hannah could hear his murmured voice in the back of her mind. Her brain was meticulously trying to make a connection. She had been over the case files so often, most of it was engraved in her memory. The fingerprints found on the van were the only set recovered and had been on the passenger door handle. Witness reports said they’d seen a male with swept brown hair, possibly in his early to mid-thirties, in that seat.
Hannah had a sudden brainwave and opened up the file from the attack a few days before. She went straight to the witness reports and scanned the text. After a minute, she found what she was looking for. Another statement had given the same description.
“Now we’re getting somewhere!” She looked over to Jason and waved him down. “We have a description to work with.”
Jason nodded, held up a thumb, and continued his phone call. While Hannah waited for Jason, she updated the police file and sent out a warning with the description to say possibly armed and dangerous, proceed with caution.
Jason returned, and Hannah told him her thoughts.
“I agree, sounds likely. However, he would be what? Fifty-five, sixty now?” His phone rang; he swiped ‘answer’ and took the call. “Shit, when?… Now?… I’ll tell Hannah.” He hung up and saw Hannah’s curious eyes. “There’s a shooting happening now at St Thomas’ Hospital. The chief wants you there. I’ll wait and hand it over to forensics, then catch up with you.” Hannah was already at the stairs before Jason finished talking. “Be careful, Hannah.”
She looked back, nodded and ran up the stairs.
Chapter 15 - Driver
The mysterious driver hadn’t said another word as he hurtled away at high speeds. The smashed blood-soaked windscreen made seeing through it like trying not to get hit with tomatoes at Tomatina. The rain had picked up again, which would clean away some evidence of the brutal hit and run. Sirens whined in the distance, thankfully getting farther away.
Drake looked over to their saviour and was met by a scared but angry stare back.
“Thanks for the save, but why? And who are you?”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why! I don’t fucking know. Shit, I’ve ruined everything.” The driver was getting extremely worked up while bashing the steering wheel.
“Mate, it’s alright. Calm down. What’s going on?” Drake tentatively placed a hand on the driver’s shoulder.
“My boss, Dr Forrest. He threatened my family.” Tears welled and rolled down his cheeks. “I’ve acted out. This was stupid. I didn’t realise there would be guns and…” He trailed off into silence as his tears took over. They sat there in silence while the driver composed himself. “Are you terrorists?”
“What? No, of course not, that would be Forrest.”
“I’m Peter.” He held out a trembling hand.
Drake took it firmly and shook. “Drake. Pleasure to meet you. Him back there is Fergus.” Drake looked back to see Fergus passed out and pale as a ghost with his head slumped to one side. “Shit! Ferg… Ferg. Fuck, pull over, Peter.”
Peter swerved the car over and bumped two wheels up onto the pavement. Drake had the door open and was out before the car had even stopped. He yanked open the rear door and checked Fergus for a pulse.
“He’s got a pulse. It’s weak.”
“I’ll call an ambulance.” Peter fumbled for his phone.
“NO! No ambulance.” Drake was frisking Fergus for a wound and found a seeping gunshot wound on his side right below the ribs. “We need somewhere quiet, some alcohol and a sewing kit.”
“Ahh shit! I’ll take you to my place. My wife’s working the late shift. We’ll have everything you need
there.” Peter jumped back in the driver seat as Drake hopped in the back. He tore off his shirt and used it to apply pressure to the wound.
“Thank you, Peter.”
Peter thrust the car into gear, pulled out and quickly built up speed. The satnav burst to life with a warning: “Police incident at St James’s Park, roadblocks for five miles.”
“Oh… that’s not good.” Peter quickly tapped a microphone button. “Fastest route home, avoiding roadblocks.”
“Calculating.” The satnav beeped. “Route found, take next right onto Great Smith Street.” Peter flew around the corner, almost sending Drake sprawling across the back seat.
“Easy, Peter! I’m trying to stop Fergus from bleeding out.”
“Sorry, I’m sorry.” Peter was shaking so much he could barely concentrate.
“Look, calm down. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you or your wife.”
“How can you? Dr Forrest is a powerful man,” he replied.
“I’ll be ending him before he ends the world.”
Peter looked back to Drake. Pure shock lit up his face. “Ends the world? The world? What is going on?”
“Peter, I’m sorry you have been dragged into this, but yes, Brendan Forrest destroys the world. This is the end game, and thanks to you, we can finish this.”
“Continue onto Marsham Street.” Peter flew across the crossroads without even risking a look. Luckily everywhere was quiet due to it being the dead of night. They flew down the street at 70 mph. Peter could see blue flashing lights in the rear-view. Sirens blared, and the lights grew in the mirror.
“Shit! Police. What do we do? If they get too close, they can EMP us.”
“Aghh, just what we need.” Drake peeked out the window and saw that they were gaining fast. “This is a modern car, right?”
“Um, yeah, 2050 model.”
“I’m assuming it’s hermetically sealed for water crashes?” Drake was leaning over the centre console.
“I’m not crashing into the water!” Peter cried out.
“No, not that. Where is the oxygen tank?”
“Oh, it’s under the car, passenger side, beneath an impact casing.”
“Stay right onto Herrick Street, then turn right onto Cureton Street.”
Drake was already over to the passenger side and half hanging out the door. “Keep going. Don’t stop for anything.” He swung the door open, lay on his back, and edged himself over the edge. With his right hand, he clung for dear life onto the door and searched under the car with his left. He could feel the casing and searched for a way to pull it off. As he was reaching for the back end, Peter cried out, “Speed bump!”
They bounced off the speed bump. Drake’s legs were sent into the air, causing his top half to slide out farther. He pulled his hand back and gripped the door with both hands. With a grunt, he reached back again, straining every muscle down one side of his body. He managed to find the clasp and tore the casing off. Peter veered the car on a sharp right turn, almost throwing Drake to the road. He dug in his thighs on the doorframe and managed to secure himself for one last push. With a click, the canister broke free, and Drake hauled himself back into the car.
“Take the next right onto Regency Street. Then you will arrive at your destination.”
“Drake, you need to do something before we turn!”
“I’m on it, one minute!” he shouted back as he wound down the passenger window. Drake reached through to the boot and felt around. Then he snatched hold of what he was looking for, and in one swift movement, he jumped to the window, brought the tyre iron down onto the valve, and with a hiss, the canister hurtled toward the police car.
It was a perfect bullseye into their windscreen. They swerved as they panicked and ploughed into a row of parked cars. Peter, completely dripping in sweat, threw the car right onto Regency Street, sped up until about halfway, and threw the vehicle left onto a driveway. He pushed a button above his head, and the garage door started to open.
“You have arrived at your destination.”
As Peter pulled into the garage, his phone buzzed to life. It was connected to the car via Bluetooth, so the caller ID popped up on the screen. It read Amy with two kisses. “Sorry, I need to get this.”
Drake nodded.
“Answer call.”
“Pete… Pete.” Amy was whispering, but you could also hear the terrified edge of her voice.
“Amy, are you alright? What’s going o—” Loud cracks from gunfire sounded through the speakers. “Amy! AMY.”
“Pete,” she sobbed, “help, please. There are gunmen.” More sobs. “They’ve killed pe—” With a beep, the line was cut off.
“Fuck! I’ve got to go.”
“Pete, where is she?”
“St. Thomas’ Hospital. I’ve got to help her.” Tears streamed down his face.
“I’ll go get her. You watch Fergus. Get pressure on his wound. I’ll bring her back safe.”
“Th… Thank you, Drake.”
“Have you got another car? And a phone?” Drake climbed out of the car and spotted a piece of an iron bar on Peter’s workbench. “And I’m taking this.”
Pete fumbled in his pockets and pulled out a phone and key fob. “Yeah, it’s outside. Please save her.”
“I will. Look after Ferg. I’ll be back with your wife soon.” With that, Drake took the fob and headed back outside. He thumbed the button, and the car right in front of him beeped, flashed and clicked. He jumped in, placed the iron bar on the passenger seat, and started the engine. It roared to life, and Drake set off towards the hospital.
Chapter 16 - Saviour
A shrill ring from Peter’s phone brought Drake from his concentration. He had to slow down because he was speeding through the streets, narrowly avoiding other late-night drivers. He reached into his pocket for the phone and swiped ‘answer’.
“Peter… please, I’m scared.”
“Amy—”
“What, who is this? What have you done with Pet—”
“Amy! I’m a friend of Peter’s. He saved my life. I’m coming to get you. Can you tell me what’s going on there?”
Amy’s frantic breaths rasped through the phone speaker. She took a minute to answer, clearly trying to weigh her options.
“Lots of armed men entered, all shouting for me. They…” Amy broke down into tears. Drake gave her a minute to calm herself. “They shot everyone. I ran upstairs.” More weeping through the phone.
“Right, Amy, stay there, stay hidden. I will find you… ok.”
“O… ok, please hurry.” She burst into more tears and hung up.
Drake finally made it to the hospital—no police presence yet, evidently. So he proceeded to the front door; he moved slowly and cautiously. The last thing he needed was to get caught out straight away. He approached the automatic doors but stayed clear of the sensor as he peeped in. Two armed men stood in the foyer with their backs to the doors. He needed to distract one or both of them. There was no way he could take two in an iron-bar-versus-gun fight. He moved back around the doors’ sensor and almost tripped on a loose tile. Drake smirked because he had stumbled upon a plan.
He picked up the loose tile and went to the right side of the door. There were several windows along the edge, so he launched the tile through the first one. It rained down inside the hospital. The fragment of glass rattled like a thousand falling knives in the dead of night. Drake peeped through again and saw both the guards going to check out the disturbance. He waited for a few seconds, and as they got out of sight, he ran for the automatic doors. They burst open, and Drake buried the iron bar into the side of the first guard’s head. The crack of his skull sent shivers down Drake’s spine, and the guy flopped to the floor. Before the second guard could even react, Drake had crouched over the first guard, pulled his handgun, and buried two shots in the other guard. They burst through his head and chest at such a close range, sending blood, bone, and brain spraying up the wall.
After searching the
two guards for extra clips, Drake continued through the lobby. It was only then he noticed the number of bodies. Receptionists, doctors and visitors all riddled with bullets and lying in pools of each other’s blood. The once clean linoleum floor slick with blood, Drake had to watch his step. Drake entered the corridor behind reception and looked at the map on the wall. A stairwell to the upper floors was only a couple of halls away.
He walked a few meters up with his gun, and the corridor came to a left-hand T. He put his back to the wall and peeped around it. Three more gunmen had turned the corner at the end and were walking towards him. They didn’t have their guns ready nor noticed him, so Drake did what he did best. He checked his mag: six bullets and one in the chamber. In one swift movement, he rounded the corner, raised his gun and let off six shots. It all happened so quickly that the gunmen didn’t even have time to look up, the bullets hit, and each one of them dropped to the floor with a thud.
Drake loaded a fresh mag and found the stairwell, back on track. Like the lobby and the corridor, it was littered with bodies. As soon as he opened the door, the pungent smell of fresh blood wafted straight into his sinuses. After climbing over several bodies that blocked the stairwell, he swerved around the rest and continued his ascent. When Drake reached the second floor, he leant against the door and pushed it open gently. He had opened it a crack so he could look down the corridor, and saw it was clear. He pushed the door open some more and looked the other way, which was also clear.
Peter’s phone burst into life again, sending a ring screaming down the empty hospital. “Fuck, fuck! Amateur.” He finally managed to get the phone out and answered the call. “Amy, are you ok?”
“I can hear them outside. They’re kicking down doors.” Three gunshots echoed through the phone, causing Amy to scream. Drake could hear them from the upper floors.
“Fuck, Amy… Don’t make a sound. I know you’re scared, but stay hidden.” She didn’t have time to respond as another crash resounded down the phone. They had kicked in the door to where she was hiding, Drake could hear a scuffle, Amy screamed again, followed by an oomph, and another voice could be heard.