Land of Fire_An EMP Survival Thriller

by Rebecca Fernfield

  Bin Sayeed turns to the camera. He recites the usual introduction and justification, then his message of brotherhood and recruitment, before introducing the paunchy, slack-shouldered politician. He looks at him with disdain for a second. Perhaps he wasn’t the right choice? Maybe he should have gone for someone the British public really cared about—one of their celebrities or even a royal? He sighs. Too late now. “Here is your Prime Minister. He has a few words to say to you all,” he says as Jamal pulls at the tape stuck across the Prime Minister’s mouth.

  “Speak.”

  “I …” the man falters and looks at the camera then to Bin Sayeed. “I beg for your mercy,” he says in stilted tones. His voice wobbles. He really was a pathetic specimen—no backbone. He couldn’t even fight for his life.

  “And?” Bin Sayeed prompts as he squirts liquid over the man’s pyjama legs. The petrol makes a dark patch and clings to his skin.

  “Please,” the man begs as Bin Sayeed turns the spray of petrol to the girl, dousing her lap. “I beg … I beg for your mercy.”

  “Come on, Dennis. You can do better than this. What about them?”

  “And I beg you to spare the life of my children. Please!”

  “Give me some time to think,” Bin Sayeed says and then smiles at the camera, his teeth white against his dark moustache and beard. “No,” he says with a direct gaze to his future audience. “This man will not be shown mercy, nor will his children. Understand this England, Europe, and America. We are coming to burn you as you sleep. We are already among you. One day Islam will rule the world and the name of Bakir Bin Sayeed will be remembered forever.”

  He turns from the camera to stare at the captives. Each one is struggling in their seat, each one doused in petrol, each one stares with terror at the lighter held high.

  As he thumbs the lighter’s wheel to spark the gas into flame, a bolt of silver pierces his hand.

  Jessie reloads her crossbow as the lighter clatters to the floor. She takes out one light and then another, then makes her way through the shadows towards the group of terrorists and their hostages.

  The frustration she’d felt at missing the terrorists’ arrival has given way to anger and now a pulsing determination to put each one of them in the ground. The stench of petrol is overwhelming and Jessie notes the wetness of the captives’ nightwear. One spark of a match or lighter and they’d all be aflame.

  Bin Sayeed stands with his hand held high, the silver bolt skewed at an angle through his palm. As tall as Bill, but not as broad, he has a bearded weasel-face, contorted with pain and anger. Jessie reloads. Where is Bill? He’d been right behind her as she’d run down the long corridor. No Uri either. She takes a look back to the steps she’d tiptoed down but sees nothing through the dark.

  Bin Sayeed shouts in pain as he stares at the bolt then takes a quick step sideways into the dark, his feet crunching over broken glass. He grunts and shouts again then metal clatters on the flagstones, no doubt the chink of the bolt freed from his hand and thrown to the floor. In the next moments the terrorists slit the ties holding the children to the chairs and haul them out of their seats.

  Jessie reloads as the children are dragged to their feet. The green light on top of the camera shines. Jessie aims at the man grabbing what looks like a slim boy just as he disappears into the dark. She pulls the trigger. Thud! Bin Sayeed reappears and grabs for the lighter as shuffling and scraping sounds from the dark. As Jessie reaches to her pocket for another bolt he flicks at the lighter. Sparks ignite. He thumbs the wheel again and a flame jumps at his thumb. Jessie runs at him as he steps to the Prime Minister, his arm thrust out, the flame bright against his hand. In the next second his hand is alight. “Allahuakbar!” he screams as he punches at the Prime Minister. Flames leap as the petrol ignites across the man’s lap and Jessie punches at Bin Sayeed sending him wheeling across the stone slabs, his arm burning bright.

  Flames burn on the Prime Minister’s lap as he squirms in his seat and Jessie realises with horror that he is trapped, his arms and legs secured by cable ties.

  “Close your eyes,” she shouts at him as she throws her cross bow to the floor and pulls off her jacket. The leather is heavy in her hands but batting at the flames with the jacket is the only thing she can think of to do. She had to help the man now, this second, or the flames would consume him. “Close your eyes,” she shouts again as she raises her arms. She bats the jacket down on his lap as he leans back, his screams muffled behind the tape stuck across his mouth. Flames leap out at the sides of the jacket. Patting at his legs beneath the jacket, the stench of burning flesh is strong in her nostrils.

  A voice booms from behind and in the next second pain shoots through her skull as Bin Sayeed punches the back of her head. She staggers, falls against the Prime Minister, and topples to the floor as he overbalances. The weight of her body against his extinguishes the final flames and she rolls away just as Bin Sayeed comes at her again. As he lurches forward, his knuckles drive into her face and pain spreads across her cheek. She swings at him but the pain in her stitched arm hinders her movement and the punch lacks real power. He glares down at her, catching her eyes with a smirk of hate. As he reaches down, grabbing her head with both hands she digs her fingers into his face and kicks at his belly. His grip eases as he cries out in pain and she kicks at his groin again. As he staggers back, she jumps up, and a door bangs open. Boots, and the distinctive tap of claws, clatter on the stone steps that lead down to the basement room.

  “Jessie!”

  “Bill!” she calls as Bin Sayeed staggers against a thick stone column then disappears into the dark. The Prime Minister groans behind her.

  “He’s getting away!” she says as Bin Sayeed’s footsteps thud in the dark. A door bangs and the footsteps become faint as he makes his way through the building.

  “Follow him, Uri,” Bill shouts.

  “Where are the kids?” Bill demands as he notices the Prime Minister lying on the floor. The dog, a smear of red across its snout, keeps pace with Bill, standing by his side as he looks down at the man. Pulling out his knife, he reaches down and slits the cable ties that lock the Prime Minister to the chair. The politician lies still, his face screwed up with agony.

  “Please,” he says through gritted teeth. “Save my children.”

  “Dad!” a voice calls as a boy steps from the shadows.

  “Thank God!” the Prime Minister exclaims as the boy crouches next to him, tugging at his shoulder to help him sit. A sob breaks into his voice. “Thank God,” he whispers.

  “We’ll have to leave you here,” Bill states as he takes the man’s arm and sits him down in the righted chair.

  His face contorted with pain, the legs of his pyjamas edged with charcoal around massive holes in the fabric, the flesh of his thighs burned and raw, the Prime Minister sits up. Bill sucks air through his teeth as he checks the man over. The front of his pyjama top shows signs of burning too and his beard looks lopsided. All that has saved him from dreadful burns was Jessie’s quick thinking.

  “Please, just go. They have my daughter.”

  “I’ll send someone back as soon as I can,” Bill says as he begins to walk away.

  “I’m here,” the boy says with his arms around his father’s shoulders.

  “Come on, Jessie.”

  She can’t leave them unarmed. Reaching for the knife strapped to her leg, she hands it to the boy. Two torches shine up at the arched ceiling. She gives one to the boy. “When we’ve gone turn this off, get back in the shadows and wait there. If they come at you—kill them.”

  “I will,” the boy says with determination.

  With a last look at the Prime Minister sitting with charred legs stiff and straight before him on the cold slabs, she grabs a torch and follows Bill. Catching him up, she realises that the video camera has gone.

  “I think they’re going to burn the girl.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “They were videoing it all and the
camera has gone. Bin Sayeed must have taken it before he ran.”

  “You’re probably right. They’d want it as proof.”

  “Where were you?” she asks as they push through the door that leads them to another long corridor. A door slams somewhere in the building.

  “He went this way,” Bill says as they pass a large kitchen. “He had men posted upstairs.”

  “And?”

  “The dog-” Bill stops as the hallway meets a corridor and checks left then right before proceeding.

  “The dog?” Jessie questions.

  “The dog helped,” he says as it trots beside him.

  “Helped?”

  “Yes. I’ll tell you later Jessie. Right now, I need to concentrate.”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.”

  “How many of them were in the basement?”

  “Four including Bin Sayeed.”

  “There were two upstairs. That’s three dead including the one you just dispatched which means there are still three on the loose including Bin Sayeed,” he says as he pushes a large door open. Warm summer air blows against Jessie’s cheek, refreshing after the cool of the basement and the cloying stench of petrol.

  In the distance a woman’s scream fills the air. Jessie can’t tell whether it is one of rage or fear.

  Chapter 30

  Aaron stares at the running figures as he sits on the car’s bonnet. Waiting had been excruciating but he knows, like Bill had said, that his duty was to protect his mum and Jasmin, and make sure no one took the car. The weight of responsibility had been heavy on his shoulders but the look of pride in his mother’s eyes as he’d nodded his agreement to Bill and shown him the knife he kept strapped to his leg for protection had thrilled him. She was counting on him and so was Jasmin. He’d make sure pigs like Bin Sayeed never touched either of them again.

  He edges forward on the car’s bonnet, his heart beating hard in his chest as the figures get closer. One of them is being dragged. It’s them and they’ve got a girl. He jumps off the bonnet and tightens his grip on his knife. The tallest one stops for a moment then spots him. Aaron’s heart thuds. The man shouts at the others then turns and runs towards him. The urge to run and hide is strong but he won’t, he won’t run like a coward. That’s what these men are—picking on women, burning people whilst they slept—they weren’t real men. Aaron walks into the road and waits.

  The men shout something in Arabic then pull at the girl. She stumbles and falls, her arm still clutched by the man, her shout of pain muffled. Aaron stands his ground as they get closer. Bin Sayeed stares at him, a look of confusion crosses his face, then he glares. Reaching out for Aaron, he pushes at the boy’s shoulder. With a quick thrust, Aaron jabs him with the knife as he peers into the car. With a snarl, Bin Sayeed turns and pushes Aaron against the car. With a single swipe, he jabs at Aaron’s arm and the knife drops to the floor. The other men and the girl stand watching.

  “Jasmin!” he spits, as he looks inside the car.

  Jasmin’s hand bats against the inside of the door and she presses down the lock, terror etched across her face.

  “It was her,” he seethes. “She told them I’d be here.” He bangs on the glass.

  The door opens on the other side and Aaron’s mother jumps out.

  “Quick,” she shouts to her son.

  As Bin Sayeed slams his hand against the window and pulls at the door’s handle Jasmin slides across the back seat and Aaron jumps up and over the bonnet, joining his mother on the other side of the car.

  “Get them!” Bin Sayeed shouts and disappears as he stoops to retrieve Aaron’s knife. A second later he stands holding it in a blood covered hand. “Get them and kill them.” He clambers over the back of the car to the open door. Jasmin screams as Bin Sayeed grabs her by the hair.

  “Aaron. Run!”

  “But he’s got Jasmin,” he says as he turns to follow his mother down the narrow gap between the car and the wall.

  “Find Bill,” she gasps as a terrorist jumps into her path and grabs at her.

  Aaron watches in horror as the man pulls her to the ground. Without hesitation, he jumps to the bonnet of the car and launches himself legs first. Aaron’s boot hits the side of the man’s head and the terrorist topples back. His face slamming against the road as Aaron lands on top of him, his boot heavy against the man’s neck. As the terrorist lays pinned to the tarmac Aaron reaches back and grabs for his mother’s hand.

  “We find Bill. Together.”

  As Bill turns the corner two figures run towards him. He stops, pulls back, then checks again. Closer now, he can see that the sprinting people are the boy and perhaps his mother. Why weren’t they in the car? As the boy reaches the corner of the building, Bill reaches out and grabs him. He squeals then quiets as Bill hushes him. Jessie reaches out for the woman.

  “Why aren’t you in the car?”

  “Where’s Jasmin?”

  “Bin Sayeed’s got her.”

  “He’s got a girl too.”

  “The PM’s daughter.”

  “He’ll kill them both.”

  “Not if we find him first.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know. We were in the car when he found us.”

  “I know where his van is.”

  “Show me,” Bill says to the boy then turns back to the mother. “Stay here. There’s a flight of steps at the back of this building. Looks like they lead to a basement. Go down them and wait at the bottom. You’ll be hidden and safe there. Wait for us to come back.”

  “Look after him,” she says as she gives the boy a quick hug.

  “But Mum should come with us. We should stay together.”

  “I’ll just be in the way,” his mother returns. “I’ll hide like Bill said. I’ll be safe. Now go and show Bill where you saw the van.”

  Relieved that she’s so clear-headed, Bill checks the surrounding area then runs with the boy, Uri, and Jessie as the woman disappears to the back of the building.

  Two minutes later they reach the narrow alley where Aaron had seen the van but there’s no sign of Bin Sayeed or any of his cronies.

  “Are you sure this is the one?” he asks as they watch the van from across the road.

  “I saw one of them come out through the side door earlier.”

  “You were supposed to stay at car,” Uri chides.

  “Nothing was happening-”

  “Is important to follow orders.”

  “It doesn’t matter right now,” Bill interrupts.

  “If they’re not here then where the hell are they?”

  “Shh!” Jessie says and cocks her ear. “Do you hear that?”

  Bill quiets and listens. In the distance he can hear the chunter of voices and a clattering as though objects are being moved or kicked. There’s also the distinctive but muffled noise of a woman’s pain.

  “I think we’ve found our terrorists,” he says as he continues to listen.

  Two minutes later they watch as Bin Sayeed and two of his men drag Jasmin up the steps and go back into the Palace of Westminster via the delivery area.

  “This is a déjà vu!”

  “They’re going back in.”

  “He’s going to finish what he started.”

  As the men disappear, Bill gives Aaron instructions to go back to his mother and wait with her there. He resists for a moment until Bill insists that she needs him then disappears. Relieved to have the boy safely out of the way, Bill enters the building. The stench of petrol is strong in the air and, as Bill sweeps the area with his torch, liquid reflects in the light. Petrol has been sprayed in arcs across the counters, shelving and doors. Reaching the door, Bill pulls it open and peers into the black of the hallway beyond. As he squints an arm hooks around his neck and he’s pulled to the floor and gunshot rings out. Uri shouts and the dog barks as his torchlight clatters to the floor. Taken by surprise, Bill is pinned down, unable to see in the pitch black of the unlit hallway. The attacker’s
breath is hot and fetid on his cheek and pain wracks through his skull as a punch hits home and his cheek scratches against cold tiles. Uri groans somewhere behind. Steel fingers lace through Bill’s hair, pulls his head back, and slams it against the tiles. Blood, hot and metallic tastes in his mouth as teeth cut against flesh.

  More weight presses Bill against the floor and then a scream, guttural and piercing, vibrates painfully against his eardrums. The man writhes on Bill’s back and something sharp presses into his flesh. Snarling fills the space above him. The terrorist gurgles as he screams and his fingers release Bill’s head. Claws, sharp through his jacket, dance over his back and he grunts with the weight and the pain as he pulls himself from under the man, and the snarling dog pinning him down. The man screams and bucks as the dog snaps and snarls.

  Torchlight fills the hallway as he pulls himself to the far wall. Highlighted, and writhing in the middle of the floor, the terrorist lies with the dog standing on his belly. The dog’s jaws are sunk into his throat. Hitting at the dog’s ribs with clenched fists, he grabs for its head. The dog bites down harder and shakes its head, its wide bite narrowing as its teeth sink into the man’s flesh. With a final snarl and jerk it lifts its head. Ripped flesh dangles from its teeth and the man lies flailing, unable to make a sound as blood pools around him, a gaping hole ripped in his throat. Bill pushes himself up against the wall and stares at the dog as it drops the flesh to the tiles and then pads towards him. Bill flinches as the dog reaches him but then relaxes as it merely turns at his knees then sits on its haunches.

  A muffled scream breaks into his consciousness and he’s alert again. Uri was hurt and Bin Sayeed had the women.