Watershed

by Jane Abbott

  I’d spent so long on my knees, trapped between Reed and his sidekick, pinned in my own hell, I hadn’t paid much attention to anything else. Except Alex. But she hadn’t moved, was still muted and standing right where she’d been before, the Guard to one side of her, his hand gripping her shoulder. None of the other Guards had moved either, nor had the Councillors. The giant was behind me, and Garrick still stood as before, arms crossed and looking less than impressed. But something was different. And bringing everything in from the periphery, sorting through it, I realised what it was: Taggart had shifted. Whether in an aimless wander or purposeful strides, he’d passed right across the room without anyone noticing and was now standing behind the Guard who minded Cade.

  Fenton and I faced off; him staring, me glaring, the silence heavy and glowering; Reed’s anticipation alive and dancing in his eyes, he and everyone else waiting for the order. But it never came. Before our fate could be announced, before Reed could carry out any of his sick threats, I heard the one thing I never imagined I’d hear in that room, a noise too bizarre for such a cold, cruel place.

  Someone was clapping. And all heads turned to Garrick.

  ‘Enough!’ Fenton almost shouted.

  But Garrick stalked towards us, drawing everyone’s eye. ‘Good job, Reed. You had him on his knees and you still managed to cock it up.’

  ‘I said enough! Return to your position, Commander.’ Fenton’s face wasn’t so pale any more, and Reed spluttered his rage.

  ‘I told you to let me handle this, sir,’ said Garrick. ‘Jem doesn’t answer to Reed. He answers to me. Has done for eight years, and I know how to get what’s needed.’

  ‘Stay out of it, Garrick,’ Reed snarled. ‘This isn’t your concern.’

  ‘It is when you don’t deliver. So back off.’ He looked at Fenton again. ‘You want this over? Let me do it, sir.’

  Another long silence as Fenton looked to his fellow Councillors. For the first time the others showed real signs of life, and there was a tense muttering between them before Fenton straightened.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘But don’t fail us, Commander. Or else you’ll be joining Jeremiah.’

  Not comforted by that promise, Reed scowled. I didn’t have the strength to taunt him. I didn’t have the strength for anything any more, used up, the shadows closing in and everything hazing over, but it didn’t matter because Garrick was more than happy to do it for me.

  ‘Watch and learn, you useless prick,’ he said, before pulling one of his own knives and crouching down in front of me, his face impassive, his eyes calm. I hoped he’d make it quick. Give me that at least.

  ‘How you doin’, Jem?’ he asked.

  ‘Been better,’ I muttered.

  He looked me over, taking in every wound. ‘Yeah. I reckon you have. Gotta say, you held out longer than I thought. But now it’s time to end it.’

  I nodded, feeling myself slip away and glad to let it happen at last. But he just cuffed me hard over the head. ‘Don’t go passing out. You’re no use if you do that.’

  ‘Fuck off,’ I moaned.

  ‘That’s better. Now, you remember that little chat we had? Just before we came up here?’

  My head bobbed, neither yes or no.

  Holding up his knife, he said, ‘Reckon I might use this.’ Then he pulled the gun out of his belt. ‘Or, I could use this. A bullet can work wonders, Jem, when it hits the right spot.’ He waved both weapons. ‘Which one d’you want?’

  I blinked, hard and fast, steadying myself, pushing away the shadows that threatened, trying to focus, on the weapons and on him, and feeling that quick surge of hot anger, beating and burning and firing me up.

  Listen – once you’ve got past that first shot – Listen!

  ‘Reckon I’d prefer the gun,’ I said at last.

  He kept his face calm, wiped of everything except a small smile. Sick fuck. Reed was behind him, looming over Garrick’s right shoulder. Restless, his hand kept flexing around the hilt of his knife, gripping, releasing, gripping again, and his feet scuffed impatiently. An even sicker fuck.

  ‘Fair enough,’ Garrick replied. ‘Now, that big Guard’s just a few steps behind you, and he’s itchin’ to pound you with that iron he’s got. And I’m gunna let him do it if you don’t get this right. You understand?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I muttered, swallowing the anger, centring it in my core and letting it build.

  ‘Good.’ Flipping the knife, so the blade pointed back under his arm, he extended the gun until the muzzle hovered a few inches from my stomach, his finger on the trigger. Then he lowered it just enough so it pointed straight down at my groin. I heard Reed chuckle, and Alex whimper. But this wasn’t the first time my dick had been threatened; in fact, I was getting kind of used to it.

  ‘Any last words to your bitch, Jem?’ Garrick asked, enjoying himself. ‘While there’s still time?’ Real, real sick.

  Looking up, I held her gaze. There were so many things I wanted to say; so much I wish I’d told her, had I only known the words.

  ‘My hand on yours, Alex. Remember? I’m sorry, I can’t do that now.’ Not waiting to see if she understood, I glared at Garrick. ‘Next time you call her a bitch, I’ll kill you.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Giving one of his evil little smiles, he prodded me with the gun, and I couldn’t help but squirm. ‘It’s time to give everyone what they’re asking for, Jem. Five seconds. That’s how long you’ve got. You ready? One –’

  ‘I can’t – I –’

  ‘Sure you can. Two –’

  I bowed my head, blocking out everything, staring down at the gun and his hand, so steady and so sure. Shit. And I breathed deep, keeping to his count, not wincing at the stab in my chest, blocking out the ache of bone and muscle, and the hot sting of raw flesh. Just breathed deep, finding that place, cold air in, warm air out, clouding white and wet.

  ‘Four –’

  Cold air in – a nod, and a last heavy sigh. ‘Okay.’

  A quick flick to spin the gun on his finger and I grabbed at the grip, seizing it from him, fumbling with numb hands to turn it over. He didn’t wait to make sure, just swivelled on heel and toe, keeping low, stabbing back and tearing through Reed’s groin to score the artery. And maybe he scored something else too, because Reed shrieked and staggered back, dropping his weapon and clutching at himself.

  Alex wasted no time either, twisting out of the Guard’s hold and in again, driving that small blade high into the side of his neck. Buoyed by vengeance, and hate-filled, she slashed and stabbed to open it up. No hesitation, no time for doubt, no room for error. Ballard had been right. She knew what to do.

  And so did I. Turning on my knees, even as Fuckwit finally clued in, roaring and hefting the bar up over his head to smash mine, I aimed at his towering bulk, thumbing the hammer, my hands not nearly as steady as Garrick’s had been, and pulled the trigger.

  His bellow died with him, obliterated in a mess of teeth and bone as the bullet found its target. Not even I could’ve missed at that range. His head snapped back and he kind of hung in the air before crumpling and crashing, iron clanging and bouncing on stone, body following, his head smashing into the brazier, tipping and rolling it, scattering ash and embers, with me scrambling to get out of the way.

  And for just a second, maybe less, everything went still. Before it turned to shit.

  Taggart made his move, two rapid headshots taking out the Guards either side of Cade, before he grabbed and hauled him back to the shadows, to the cover of the wall. The rest was chaos, Fenton and the other two Councillors on their feet, dissolving from the table in a panicked wash, making for one of the doors, a line of Guards moving in to usher them, the rest pulling swords and shouting at and to each other, all of them confused. Coz it’s a real bitch when things don’t go the way you planned. Worse when others outsmart you.

  A sudden clamour from the stairs: doing exactly as he’d been told and not messing around, Piggott led a handful of Watchmen up and into the
room, getting everyone’s attention and drawing the Guards away.

  Alex staggered to me and sank to her knees. Her hands were wet with blood and the knife slipped as she cut between my wrists, severing the bonds.

  ‘Oh God,’ she whispered, ‘Look at you. I thought they were –’

  ‘Nah. Not even close,’ I lied.

  Another shrill shriek. Garrick was crouched over Reed, one hand gripping his hair, the other holding the knife, ready to stab, and I scrambled across to catch his arm. Reed was still clutching at his groin, every pulse pumping out more blood, slicking the floor dark and wet, but he had no chance. And I didn’t give a shit. I just wanted Tate and Connor.

  Glaring up at the two of us, he cursed. ‘You fucking – you’re dead! Everyone’s fucking dead!’

  ‘You miserable little cocksucker,’ Garrick growled. ‘It’s my Watch. You fuck with me and my men, and I’ll fuck with you. Every time.’

  ‘Where are they, Reed?’ I said. ‘Tate and the boy? Where are they?’

  ‘Go to hell,’ he gasped.

  ‘You first,’ Garrick said, shaking off my hand and stabbing down at an angle, hard and fast, driving the knife through Reed’s open mouth, pinning and grinding his head to the floor. His body kicked and jerked and Garrick finished him off with a hard cut across the throat, before shooting me a wide grin. ‘Now he’s a deadshit.’

  ‘Fuck! He was the only one – get down!’

  And cocking the gun, shooting over his ducked head, I winged the Guard who’d broken through. No kill shot, not even close, but the Watchman following finished him off with an axe to his spine, spilling and sprawling him dead beside us. A quick glance at the body, then at me, and Garrick nodded his thanks. Then he spoiled it.

  ‘Your aim’s gettin’ worse.’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  ‘Jem, what the hell’s going on?’ Alex asked, bewildered and urgent, scowling at Garrick, her fingers flexing tight around her knife. But Garrick saw it too, holding up his own in warning, and I gripped Alex’s wrist tight.

  ‘Not now,’ I told her.

  ‘Get out of here before they sound the alarm,’ Garrick said, pulling me to my feet, steadying me when I stumbled and almost fell again. Taking the gun from me, he grabbed the fallen Guard’s sword and thrust it into my hands. ‘You right to use it?’

  I gave a nod. Finally, a weapon I knew something about. But I was getting weaker, still bleeding, flesh still burning, muscles I didn’t even know I had starting to fail.

  ‘Get downstairs,’ he ordered. ‘Wait for us there.’

  ‘Fenton,’ I said, though I knew it was already too late. ‘We can –’

  ‘No! We got what we came for. Now move!’ And then he was gone, sprinting into the thick of it, knife in one hand, his short sword in the other, fuelled on bloodlust and already laughing. Like one of those old Berserkers my grandmother had written about. That was Garrick. Berserk, and fucking the enemy.

  ‘Come on!’ Gathering everything I had for the final haul, I grabbed Alex’s hand. But she pulled back.

  ‘No! Cade! Where’s Cade?’

  ‘Taggart’s got him. C’mon!’ And stumbling, almost tripping over my own feet, I pulled her towards the stairs, keeping to the side and using every shadow. Because I’d lied about the sword. Just carrying it brought a heavy stab to my chest, every breath short and laboured. But before I could think of ditching it, Alex screamed a warning. The blur of a body charged in from the left, and instinct overcame any injury.

  Spinning Alex away and behind me, I brought up the sword with both hands, catching the other blade on its guard, steel grating on steel, my whole body shuddering with the impact, before pushing off and stumbling back, only just managing to keep my feet, and cursing my left arm, which was as good as useless.

  ‘Run, Alex!’ I yelled. ‘Get out of here!’

  But there was no time to make sure, and no time to assess whether I was up to this. The push of adrenaline was too great, pumping blood and setting pace. Primal and powerful, the sudden urge to protect her compensated for everything I lacked.

  The Guard swung his sword again, carving the air, and I danced back. He was young, stronger than me but not as desperate, and I caught him on the backswing, riding the weight, letting it carry through and over before thrusting in, forcing him to jump back, the point of his sword striking the ground. He grunted with the shock, panting a bit. But I was gasping. Sidestepping another lunge, I twisted my sword, slicing the back of his arm. He cursed, shifting his grip and heaving with both hands, and I feinted left, then back, waited for the fall, dodged in, then past and scored his side with a backswing, cutting deep. He bellowed and stumbled back and suddenly, from the shadows, Alex darted in low, stabbing into the back of his knee, and out again. The Guard yelled, lurching and panicking, arcing the sword in a wide swing out and behind but too big to correct, and with a roar I drove my blade through his stomach to his spine, feeling it strike before jerking free to let him fall.

  ‘Come on!’ Alex grabbed my arm, and this time it was she who led me, dodging around another skirmish and back into darkness. A last push to the entrance and we were in the open, on the stairs, down the first few, me missing the rest, dropping the sword and holding the wall just to keep upright, before rounding the corner into the passage, five strides, then ten, her pulling and pulling, me slowing and slowing. The adrenaline had drained, and I was climaxed out.

  ‘Come on, Jem,’ she urged, fierce and determined. ‘Keep moving. Keep going.’

  But I couldn’t. The long passage seemed endless, curving and curving, and every breath was harder and harder, my brain screaming orders, my body doing its own thing. The wound in my thigh felt like it was opening up further with every step, my chest too battered to fill with the air I needed, and all I could do was lurch to a stop, the wall my new friend, supporting my weight.

  ‘Give me – a minute. Please!’

  She looked back, despairing, and we both heard the clamour: gunshots, the clash of metal, roars of triumph and screams of defeat. She was right to worry. The Watch were holding on, giving us the time we needed, but there was no knowing how long they’d last, or if and when that alarm would sound, bringing fresh Guards.

  Shit. I sighed and pushed myself off the wall, limping a few more steps, resting, then limping again. Slow going, but at least we were moving. And she didn’t urge any more, just stayed with me, her hand light on my arm. But she kept looking back too, searching for any sign of her husband.

  ‘You should’ve run,’ I told her.

  ‘I couldn’t leave you.’

  Five more paces and another stop. ‘I gotta ask. The knife. How – when?’

  ‘Ballard.’ There was so much misery in that single word, and I remembered her bent over her knees, weeping for her brother.

  ‘Fuck, Alex, I’m sorry. I couldn’t –’

  ‘I know.’

  Another five, and I paused again. ‘Kinda pissed you did it without me, though.’

  She gave a small, strangled sob. ‘Don’t joke. Not now.’

  ‘Yeah. Sorry.’ I managed seven steps before sagging against the wall, fighting for air and trying not to think of the fifty or so still to go. Fuck! I was never going to make it.

  ‘Jem – what Garrick did – what’s going on?’ she asked.

  ‘I dunno,’ I said. It wasn’t a complete lie, but this wasn’t the time for difficult questions and harder answers. ‘We’ll find out soon enough.’

  She eyed the passage ahead uneasily, then twisted back again; there was still no sign of Cade, and I watched her draw the cloak tighter around her body.

  ‘Here,’ I said, straightening a little to fumble with my belt and pull it free. Mindful of her wound, and with shaking hands, I fastened it around her as gently as I could. I had no idea why Reed hadn’t used his knife on her again to torment me; I was just thankful he hadn’t. ‘Better?’

  Alex nodded and gave a weak smile. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then let’s do this
.’ Somehow finding the strength, I began hobbling again, one hand to the wall, the other on her shoulder to lessen the pain in my leg, and I kept my eyes down, grunting with every pitiful step while the noise behind us began to fade. Finally we were making some progress, following the curve and feeling faint hope. Until Alex stopped dead.

  ‘Oh my God.’

  Hearing it, feeling the sudden tension in her body, I looked up, expecting the worst, knowing I was in no shape to deal with it. But worst is a relative thing, and sometimes what you’d hoped never to face appears at just the right time to help. I could see the gate up ahead, and the dark opening to the stairs – the passageway no longer empty, filled not with Guards, but with Watchmen. Half and half, Garrick had said, the first to attack, the rest to defend; all part of the plan I hadn’t been trusted to know.

  A single shout, and a couple of them sprinted towards us; a faint click as Alex opened up her knife.

  ‘Don’t,’ I said, grabbing her wrist and forcing it down.

  She struggled, angry, determined, afraid. ‘No! I can’t go down there again.’

  ‘Yes, you can,’ I said, and turned her to face me. I pressed my mouth to her forehead. ‘With me. We’ll go together, okay?’

  The Watchmen were nearing, still shouting at us to move, but she wouldn’t, or couldn’t, instead craning to see past me, to what she knew was still behind us.

  ‘This is the only way, Alex. You’ll be safe. I –’

  But I wasn’t able to finish and she was given no more time to argue. Both of us cowered, the piercing wail of a horn shrill enough to drown thought and word. The alarm had finally been sounded.

  Making it to the last step and through the gate, I slid down the wall with relief, taking the flask thrust at me by one of the Watchmen and draining it, breathing in the familiar close air and letting my eyes adjust to the brighter gloom; ahead and to each side stretched the rounded tunnels I knew so well, a hundred or so metres away was my cot and, kneeling at my feet, gripping my hand in hers, was the woman I wanted more than any other. It was strange, but I felt as though I’d come home.