“The tank - it's destroyed!”
Running feet. Rifles cracking like popcorn in a pan. The stutter of heavy machine gun fire. Screams of the dying. It came back all at once and the next thing she knew she was on her feet, holding onto the wall for support.
“Are you okay?”
It was Ellen. She was stood there, looking at her, those pale hands cupping her cheeks. She nodded and the woman of ice and sorrow smiled.
“Go. Now. While you still can.”
“Where?” she groaned.
“The tree. Go to the tree.”
“But what about-”
“Go!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
She nearly ran to the stables as the cheers and the victory calls went up around the camp, clamouring and rattling off the scrap metal walls as violently as the gunfire had. She was aware of Moll at her side as she reached the entrance and the faithful dog seemed wary as they peered into the gloom. The lamps had been put out.
“Hello?” she called. There was no answer. “Is anyone there?”
Silence echoed back at her. Taking matches from a pouch on her belt, she lit one and stepped inside. The lamp was on the left somewhere and in the poor light from the little flame she found it. A few moments later and the stables were lit again.
Ziggy was in his stall but the others were empty. Where were the other horses? She remembered the ones that had pulled the carts. They should have been there too and it was clear that they had been at some point before being moved elsewhere.
She found her saddle hanging on the wall where she'd left it and she fitted it to the horse and put on her saddle bags and rifle. All the while Moll sat in the middle of the room, peering out into the night where the chaos still ran on, unchecked and unbridled. She wondered then how many would die, how many Slavers would be butchered in the frenzy without compassion and, once the blood lust reached its crescendo, would it simply stop there when they came back? Sarah felt a sudden fear that made her want to run but her fingers continued to fumble with the straps and buckles.
Alan's bags were there in a pile in the corner and she managed to fasten them on top of her own before she felt she was ready to leave. The cold was biting now but she didn't pay it any attention. All she wanted to do was run and the sooner she was able to put Hope behind her, the better.
Moll's deep throated growl halted Sarah where she stood. She turned and saw something emerging out of the night and into the glow of the lamps. It stood there, facing the hound with a pistol in its hand.
“I had a feeling you'd run,” said Tarrick. “That's why I had the lamps snuffed. As soon as I saw this place light up, I knew it was you. Where are you going?”
“Home,” she replied, trying to control the tremor in her voice. “I'm going home. You've got your victory, thanks to my friend.”
“And I'm very grateful for his sacrifice. We all are. So why are you leaving so soon?”
“Is there some law that says I can't?”
“I'm afraid there is. My law.”
He took a step closer but Moll rose to her feet, her back and shoulders bristling with muscle and fur. Her top lip curled upwards and Tarrick faltered.
“Perhaps that isn't a good idea,” said Sarah. “She's his dog. I don't have much control over her.”
Feeling fresh confidence, Sarah opened the stall and led Ziggy out into the middle of the stable. Tarrick raised his pistol, leveling it at her chest. She met his stare and held it for as long as she could, matching that stone-cold expression with her own.
“You've got guts, I'll give you that,” he said. “But you know I can't let you walk away. I suspect that there are more of these weapons out there and your friend knew where to find them. I also suspect that so might you.”
“Well I don't,” she replied. “So step aside.”
“Accept my apologies if I don't believe you.”
“Well I guess you're just going to have to shoot me then because it's the truth.”
“If you say so.”
Tarrick smiled and Sarah knew then that she was never going to leave the stables alive. Her only consolation was in the fact that Moll would tear his throat out once she was dead. Annie'd been right - she should never have trusted him in the first place, never helped him-
Tarrick let out a cry as something struck him from behind, felling him like an axe would a tree. The pistol clattered to the floor and discharged, firing a single shot into the ceiling and Moll leapt ahead to finish the job.
“Moll!” she cried. “To me!”
The dog skidded in the straw and dust and turned to face her with a puzzled look on her cocked head. Out of the shadows came another shape, this one dressed in green with a baseball cap on her head and the long handle of a shovel in her hands.
“I've wanted to do that for so long,” said Annie. “I can't tell you how good it feels. I should have used the business end though and finished the job. Instead he'll just wake up with a headache now.”
Sarah broke into a fit of laughter, partly brought on by the release of fear from her heart but also because she was so glad to see her friend again. Annie came into the light and patted Moll's head.
“Cute thing,” she smiled. “But I couldn't let you eat him. He'll have his uses in the future.” They embraced and Sarah thanked her. “Don't thank me. We're even now.”
“You were never in my debt,” she replied.
“This whole settlement is in your debt. I'm just sorry about your friend. I know how much he meant to you.” Sarah was still smiling and Annie began to look puzzled. “Am I missing something?”
“Maybe,” she said. “I'll tell you about it one day. Just don't be too shocked. There's a rational explanation.”
“I don't understand.”
“You will. Perhaps. Goodbye, Annie.”
“Goodbye, Sarah.”
And with that she climbed into the saddle and whistled for Moll to follow, galloping out into the night and straight towards the blasted gates where the first of the victors were beginning to pour back into Hope. She wanted to vow never to return again but she couldn't; she had a feeling that in a few years the place might actually live up to its name with people like Annie around. Who knew? The chance for it to happen had come and it was up to the people of that settlement to make the most of it. That would be the start of their story now, their tale and maybe, she thought, Alan and she would make an appearance there again one day.
She arrived at the tree in the early hours of the morning. It wasn't very hard to miss and by now the moon was reflecting light down onto the ghost-like framework of a forgotten park with silvery rays. This one, unlike the other she knew only days earlier, was made of plastic and in spite of the faded colour, was still in working order. The swings that hung on chains still floated back and forth as if being ridden by specters and she wondered if the wind that came in from the east was actually the gentle sounds of children playing echoing down the ages.
She drew the horse up near the slides and tethered him to a pole. She was cold and frozen to the core and she rummaged inside her bags for her wooly hat and gloves and put them on, feeling her teeth chatter inside her skull. Memories of the fire back home and her warm bed made frequent visits to the front of her mind as she stamped her feet and walked around in circles trying to generate some body heat. She laughed at herself for dreaming of her pajamas and her favourite mug and her favourite chair. A week on the road had made her appreciate the little things that much more.
She took a pull from the flask she'd brought with her. It was more of the spiced stuff from the vats back at Hope but she couldn't remember filling it. Had drinking become second nature to her now? She sipped it regardless and felt it burn all the way down her throat, blunting the cold for a little while.
An hour passed and the shivering stopped. She wasn't sure that was a good thing. There were plenty of trees around and a fire would be welcome, but the fear of being discovered still haunted her. When Tarrick woke up would he se
ek revenge? Would Annie be able to contain his anger? Would he send out people to retake her? All these things kept her back from doing anything that might give her position away but in the end the fear just wasn't powerful enough to defeat the discomfort of the cold.
She cursed herself under her breath and began gathering twigs and branches. She knew that if she didn't start a fire soon she'd be dead anyway. Ziggy snorted large clouds of vapor from his nostrils. He had two rugs on his back but even she knew that the hardy Yorkshire-born animal would suffer sooner or later. She started the fire away from the tree and the tarmac playground and near a patch of ground behind a stone wall instead. Her pale, dead fingertips were barely able to strike the match and the first one spluttered out in her hands. The second went up fine but her tinder just wouldn't take. It took a collection of Ziggy's hair pulled from the bristles of his brush to start it but when it was going Sarah stopped caring about Tarrick and Slavers and anything else for that matter. All that was in her world then was the heat and the light and the places of comfort she'd long since forgotten about.
When she was satisfied with the hungry snapping of dry wood, she gathered more and began making a pile nearby, moving Ziggy closer to gain some benefit from it. Daybreak was coming soon, she realised, and she hadn't slept a wink. Fatigue began to gnaw at the corners of her eyes and she stifled a yawn. Not yet, she told herself. Not yet.
Another hour passed and she realised she'd dozed off against the wall where the heat was hottest and the stones provided some kind of shelter. She snapped awake as she heard something moving nearby, perhaps on the other side of the wall. Drawing her pistol, she got up and looked around. Ziggy hadn't moved but Moll was sat with her ears pricked and her back bristling, looking beyond her to the other side of the park. Sarah peered in all directions but didn't want to move from the protection of the fire.
“Who's there?” she called out. “I have a gun!”
“I'm sure you do,” said a voice from the shadows. “I hope you have my gear as well.”
There, coming from the darkness, a shape moved into the light of the fire. Moll ran straight over to it with her tail wagging so enthusiastically that it looked like her whole body was behind the movement.
“Alan?” she called. “Is that you?”
He stepped closer and she could see that he was naked except for a dirty, threadbare blanket draped over his body and wrapped around his shoulders several times. He was barefoot and all of his hair, including his beard and eyebrows, were gone and replaced by stubbly growth.
She ran to him, throwing her arms around him and bursting into fresh tears made from the thawed heart in her chest which had begun beating again the moment she saw him.
“Is it really you?” she whispered.
“It is,” he replied, gripping her tightly. “We made it.”
She pulled back and put her hand on his cheek, looking into his eyes. He was so different, yet the same. That warm, open gaze, that inviting smile now made all the more welcome without the beard to hide behind.
“You shaved?” she laughed.
“Not by choice I'm afraid. You could say a Russian barber did it to me.”
“I didn't think that even you could survive that,” she said as he trembled in her arms. “Shit, you must be freezing! I'm so sorry, I didn't think. Get close to the fire!”
She broke away and found his bags, bringing them to him as he stood bathing in the heat coming from the camp fire. She opened one side, then the other and he reached in, pulling out underwear, trousers, shirts and a sweater and began putting them on. Last of all he took a pair of hiking boots out from the bottom and sat down to lace them up as she unraveled his big coat from her bedroll where she'd put it.
“That's much better,” he said pulling on a woolly hat over his bald head. “Now we just need a warm drink.”
“I've got some of that spiced wine,” she said. “I'll warm us some up.”
A few minutes later and they sat there nursing their mugs, taking small sips of the hot booze and feeling a world apart from the nightmare of the battle. Even now the memory of those hours was starting to fade and Sarah felt like there was a real end to it all now, like they might finally be able to go home. Even though it'd only been a few days since she'd left Pine Lodge, it felt to her like a lifetime had passed by. So much had happened. She'd felt so many emotions. She wondered if her life would ever be the same again.
“I'm sorry,” she said after a pause.
“What for?” he asked.
“I forced you to fire the weapon early. You warned me that would happen, that it might not destroy it entirely. I'm sorry I made you do it.”
“It wasn't all down to you. I could've changed my mind; I didn't have to go through with it. You live, you learn.”
“Did it hurt?” she asked.
“Yes.”
The fire burned nicely, giving off plenty of warmth and bathing them in a lovely orange glow. The world was a nice place again and she wondered how it was so easy to flip from one extreme of emotion to the other so quickly.
“How did you know to meet me here?” she suddenly thought. “I never told you.”
“Ellen found me in the wreckage. She explained it all to me and gave me the blanket.”
“But how? Doesn't that mean she-”
“She does now, yes. She was tending to the sick and dying outside the settlement when she found me under pieces of the tank. She was about to shout for help when I stopped her and asked her to be silent. When she saw it was me, she told me where you'd gone and how she'd join us shortly.”
“She's coming here?”
“Yes. I told her it would be safer if she fled with us back to Pine Lodge. It won't be safe for her in Hope now that he knows we've escaped.”
“About that,” she said and explained about the confrontation in the stable and Annie's involvement. Alan just smiled as she told the story.
“So it looks like there might be a power struggle over there?” he said. “Good. Maybe things aren't so bleak after all. Still, I won't forget that Tarrick is out there. Revenge does funny things to people, changes them into machines with a single purpose in mind. I'll be keeping a close eye on Hope for a while.”
“Does it bother you?” she asked.
“What?”
“That he's alive. I suspect that if the situation had been reversed the outcome might have been different.”
He grinned and seemed to think it over for a while before answering. Moll was sat beside them with a stick between her paws where she'd been chewing it. Bits of soggy bark were littered all around her but her eyes were now closed and little puffs of breath came from her wet nose.
“Perhaps,” he said. “In the old world they'd have called me a psychopath. But now, when I look back at the thousands of years we've been on this planet, I can begin to understand that maybe none of this is about good or evil, right or wrong, moral choices and all that philosophy. Maybe this is just how it is. We do what the situation calls for and live with the results. People die, people get hurt and it never gets easier to take a life, but sometimes there really is no other choice. Maybe there has been in the past and thanks to you I'll be looking harder for it, but do I think mankind could have survived the disaster without adapting? That, I'm not so sure about.”
There was the sound of horse's hooves in the distance and they both leapt to their feet, drawing their weapons. As the horse came around the corner, Sarah saw the pale woman pull up short of the fire and climb down. Behind her, a saddled horse followed but there was no rider.
“I came as soon as I saw a chance,” said Ellen, pulling down her fur-lined hood to reveal her rosy face. “I brought the horse you requested as well.”
“What happened after we'd gone?” asked Sarah.
“Tarrick is furious. He came around eventually and there doesn't seem to have been any lasting harm done to that thick skull of his.”
“Is he thinking of coming after me?” She shook her head and moved tow
ards the fire.
“No. Once the tank was destroyed, his men gave chase to the Slavers. It wasn't a complete rout - some fought back and it cost him dearly. It will be a while before he can rebuild his forces and by then I expect he will have forgotten about you. He and Annie have been locked in discussions ever since.”
“I hope that's the end of it then,” said Sarah.
“Perhaps. Oh, I brought us some food!” she said, suddenly brightening. “I thought we might need it for the journey. I must admit, I'm quite looking forward to the change of scenery.”
She delved into her saddle bags and came back with two paper packets filled with sandwiches and a sack of apples. There were also three small flasks of coffee, a bag of roasted beans and some dried tea leaves.
“I can't imagine the tea at Pine Lodge being up to our standards,” she laughed. “So I thought I'd take some with us.”
“How long has it been since you travelled?” asked Alan.
“Too long. Much too long. Since I showed a certain penchant for being a medico I've been caged there indefinitely. I'm finally free to do something moderately more interesting. I did leave behind plenty of skilled and able replacements so Tarrick shouldn't feel the need to hunt for my good self either.”
They sat beside the fire and ate, feeling much better for the warmth and their filled bellies. The night was coming to an end and the glowing embers of the morning, freshly kindled, began to appear in the east beyond a gathering of small ruined houses made from cobblestone. It promised to be a cold day but at least, thought Sarah, it was another day closer to home. She imagined her own bed, her own favourite reading chair and the wonderful hearth burning with the heat only a home knows. She longed to be there almost immediately, which made the thoughts of the next days of travelling that much harder to bear.
When the food was finished and they'd been woken by the strong, fresh coffee, Alan stood up, signaling that they should be moving on. It was Ellen who stayed still, staring at the fire, lost somewhere they would never know.
Beyond Hope (Tales from the Brink Book 3) Page 26