All Through the Night

by M. P. Wright

  “Me and Trute, we been having ourselves a little chat. Child knows what she’s gotta do, ain’t that right, little soldier?” Truth nodded and looked uneasily across to where the priest’s hole hatch door was. Benny smiled at her then continued talking, his tone sunny, much lighter than I was used to. “I tole Trute, she ain’t gonna be down there on her own fo’ long. That you ain’t gonna be spittin’ distance away from her, ain’t that right, Joseph?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. I’ll be real close by, I promise.”

  Benny may have thought he’d talked Truth around, but I could see in the child’s eyes that she was petrified at the thought of having to descend back into the dark hole behind me. I walked over and crouched down in front of her, then reached out and placed my hands on each side of her tiny arms and drew her closer towards me.

  “See, I’m gonna be at the foot of those stairs out there.” Truth turned around and looked as I pointed my finger out of the bedroom door behind her. “Lazarus, he’s gone and made it good and bright down there for you. You’re gonna be snug and safe while the grown-ups sort tings out up here. There ain’t any need for you to be scared. You got my word on that.”

  Benny butted in, offering up more well-intentioned words of solace. “See, Trute, I tole you, everyting gonna be fine. Just you remember what I said earlier, ’bout those bangs and crashes you’re gonna be hearin’. You just close your eyes and cover up those little ears o’ yours. It’s gonna be just like that thunder your hearin’ outside at the minute, an’ I tell ya, it’ll be over befo’ you know it. You just hang on in there fo’ ole Joseph to come get you. OK?”

  Truth nodded passively and stared back at me, the tears quickly welling up in the lower lids of her eyes. Her dainty body shook and she began to cry. Flinging herself at me, she clutched frantically onto my neck and shoulders with her trembling arms. I lifted her up and carried her back across to the edge of the bed and sat her down on my knee. I looked over towards Benny, his eyes wet, his hand rubbing nervously at his mouth and jaw, visibly distraught at what he was seeing. I held Truth tight against me, her face tucked into the side of my jacket, her tears soaking my shirt. I cradled her head in my hand as she sobbed uncontrollably. She held on to me so tightly that I could feel her frightened little heart pounding against my chest.

  23

  In the half light of the priest’s hole I watched Truth’s eyes search mine as I carried her the short distance across the damp stone floor of the desolate cellar. I could feel her thin body trembling as I set her down on a pile of cushions behind the beer casks at the furthest end of the underground vault. I quickly wrapped a thick eiderdown quilt that I’d brought with me tightly around her back and shoulders. I told myself that I was doing the right thing, that I was protecting the child from the worst kind of evil, men who had no remorse for their woeful deeds and little thought for the human lives they had no doubt callously extinguished in the course of their nefarious duties. Men like Paxton had been hanging off my coat-tails for the better part of half of my life and I was sick of having them trailing in my shadow, tired of the blood-letting and death that followed in their wake. I’d already made a stand against injustice and villainy and paid a heavy price in doing so; now I was making a stand again, taking on a fight I didn’t really want, playing hero to a cause I felt was already lost. This time, I told myself, I had less to lose. It was tough talk, but who was I kidding?

  Truth, bundled up like an abandoned puppy, stared up at me from behind the small stack of miniature ale barrels. In the dim lamplight her ashen, scared face said more than any words ever could. I crouched down low in front of her, gently brushed her cheek with the back of my hand and smiled at her.

  “OK, you remember what Benny and me told you?” Truth nodded her head back at me. “This ain’t gonna be for long, right? I’ll be back down to get you befo’ you know it.” As I got to my feet, Truth’s little hand shot out from underneath the blanket and grabbed hold of my own. When she spoke, her voice was hushed and shaky.

  “And then can we go and get some ice cream with Benny?”

  “Yeah, course we can. We’ll all go get ice cream, I promise.”

  Truth let go of my hand and my arm dropped limply at my side as I began to slowly walk away from her, not knowing if I’d be able to keep my simple oath. Considering all the poor child had been through and was still enduring, it wasn’t much that she was asking for. My pledge to get her ice cream seemed like such little recompense, but it was all I had to give.

  *

  I’d known better than to trust the word of a man like Paxton, let alone the word of a policeman. They say there is honour amongst thieves; the same cannot be said for bent law. It was raining hard outside when I heard the first shot ring out. I was stood in the hall and glanced up at the clock at the top of the stairs when the madness was unleashed; the hands of the clock read 10.15 p.m. The first bullet shot from a silenced weapon pierced through the top pane of the bay window in the bar fifteen minutes before our agreed deadline. Their attack upon us had begun. All bets were off; chaos was about to descend; let the slaughter begin. As I drew the .38 from my waistband, every light in the place went out in unison, the power cut, the pub encased in darkness.

  Just as Benny had predicted, Paxton and his men took out the two main windows in the bar but it wasn’t the clandestine assault as we had expected. As my eyes began to acclimatise to the dark, a series of shotgun blasts to each of the bays blew glass and wood across the pub. Benny, pinned down behind the bar, bellowed back at me to get myself back upstairs to Truth. Adrenaline coursed through my body as I ignored his demand and ran towards the hall door that led out towards Benny and the bar. I raised my revolver just as I reached the entrance and fired off a couple of shots across the pub. Benny raised himself up from behind the bar, the SMG held closely at his hip, and began to strafe the room in front of him with heavy suppressed machine-gunfire. In the corner of my eye I saw the flare of further shotgun fire burst through the front door followed by the phut, phut sounds of repeated pistol fire. I aimed out into the pitch-black towards where I thought the gunfire had come from and loosed off another two slugs. In the shadows in front of me I saw the brief burst of bright flame erupt from Benny’s SMG again as he returned fire at his as yet unseen opponents.

  Benny, out of ammunition, tucked himself flat against the edge of the wall of the bar, unclipped his empty magazine and quickly snapped in another. I let off two further rounds then stuffed my hand into my jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of bullets. The air smelled heavily of cordite as I broke open my revolver and reloaded the .38, snapping it shut as another rapid volley of muffled gunfire was discharged, cutting through the bottles hanging in the optics at the back of bar, sending alcohol and splintered glass everywhere. From behind me I felt a hand touch my shoulder and quickly drag me backwards out into the hall. “You gotta get up to Truth, move!” At that very same moment, in a burst of further dampened gunfire, I could have sworn I saw Benny, his arms flailing either side of him, thrown back hard against the back wall of the bar.

  Desperate to halt my enforced retreat and help my friend, I turned on my heels in anger, raising the .38 revolver. Lazarus, his Beretta held out in front of him, took a firm grip of my arm and was pulling me towards the stairs just as more shots rang out behind us. Over the bombardment of gunfire I barked at the publican, “I think Benny’s been hit, we gotta go back for him.” But Lazarus paid me no heed. He grabbed hold of the lapels of my jacket and pushed me against the wall at the foot of the stairs.

  “Move your arse, man. You keep your word!” Lazarus slung me towards the stairs, pushing at my back, then ran off towards the kitchen door.

  I heard the boom of a shotgun roar at the rear of the pub. Without thinking, I ran after Lazarus, but it was all too late. As my shoulder clipped the frame of the kitchen door, I briefly heard the clack of metal sliding back on metal. I leaped aside just as another shotgun was fired, exploding a hole the size of a frying pan thr
ough the door and hitting Lazarus square in the chest. The buckshot blew splinters of wood, blood, macerated flesh and charred clothing across the kitchen. I was knocked off balance and was on my knees as the next two shots blasted the door clean off its hinges. Outside, I could see a car parked up just a few feet from the door, its engine still running, the beams of its headlights illuminating the inside of the kitchen. I heard two more shells being dropped into the shotgun’s magazine then watched as Detective Constable Beaumont made his way cautiously inside and stood over Lazarus’ bloodied body, grinning cruelly to himself. He lifted the sawn-off in front of Lazarus’ face and pulled both hammers back.

  I’d already scrambled to my feet and was leant against the door jamb. I raised my arm, the .38 aimed directly at Beaumont’s head. Realising something wasn’t right, the policeman slowly lifted his head in the half light and found himself staring down the barrel of my Smith & Wesson snub nose. I saw the animal fear and anger in his face as he stood motionless in the shadows for a moment; I watched his eyes twitch then dart from side to side as the panic began to set in. He saw the vengeful expression on my face just as he attempted to raise the barrels of his shotgun at me, his last thoughts forever his own. I squeezed the trigger and fired. The bullet entered Beaumont’s head just below his nose and exited out of the centre of the back of his skull. His limp body hung lifelessly for a second then dropped onto the stone flag floor at Lazarus’ still-twitching feet. In front of me, picked out by the wide beam of the car headlamps, were the spattered remains of the dead copper’s brains and bone matter, smeared in a crimson and grey arc across the white tiled wall. The nauseating stench reminded me of a stripped-out carcass on an abattoir floor.

  More gunfire rang out in the bar behind me. I swung my body around and hugged the side of the hall wall, my arms outstretched in front of me, my grip on the taped handle of the .38 tightening. I took a couple of steps forward in the dark and glanced down one last time at Lazarus’ lifeless body stretched out only a few feet away from me, then turned and bolted up the stairs towards the bedroom and the safety of the priest’s hole. As I ran, I almost expected that, like his biblical namesake, Lazarus would rise up from the dead and follow on after me. It was a miracle I knew in my heart could never happen.

  24

  The air inside the bedroom was hot and still; sweat poured out of me, my pulse raced and my heart felt like it was about to burst out of my chest. I knew I only had a small amount of time; Paxton and his mob would be on to me real quick. I grabbed hold of the haversack, ran across the room and dropped to my knees, then lifted the hatch door to the priest’s hole and climbed in.

  I quickly closed the door and jammed the bolt into the socket then sped down the narrow stone steps two at a time into the old crypt. The damp cellar was eerily quiet; I stood still at the foot of the stairs for a moment and listened. There didn’t seem to be any movement above me. I looked around in the candlelight, my eyes now more accustomed to the absence of light. Particles of dust floated in front of my face, caught by the dim glow from the lamp hanging from the ceiling. I headed across the cellar over to the beer casks and found Truth just as I’d left her, huddled up in a ball, the eiderdown covering her head and body. I lifted the quilt quickly, throwing it against the wall. Truth instantly jolted backwards in fright, cowering in the shadows.

  “Hey, hey, it’s OK, it’s me, Joseph.”

  Truth edged forward cautiously to get a better look at me. I smiled down at her and she looked back at me blankly, her face pale, etched with fear. I turned around and unhooked the lamp then shone it over Truth’s head to reveal the small, cobweb-covered wooden door behind her.

  “Come on, we gotta go this way.” I squeezed behind the beer casks and put my hand out for Truth to take it. Confused, Truth hesitated and looked at the door then up at me. “Child, believe me, we ain’t got no time to be messin’ ’bout, we gotta go now. Come on.”

  Truth got to her knees and grabbed hold of my hand. I pulled her up from the ground then hung the lamp out in front of me to get a better look at the door. Two large rusting iron bolts at the top and bottom of the door held it closed, the pins buried into deep holes in the alabaster-covered wall opposite. I put the lamp at my feet then pushed at the top bolt with my palm. I rolled the metal pin back and forth a few times until it eventually slid back and then bent down to release the bottom one. The second bolt was harder to move, the corroding metal crumbling away in my fingers as I tried to dislodge the pin from the wall. I leant back and repeatedly kicked at the end of the bolt with the heel of my shoe until it finally gave way.

  The heavy door creaked at its decaying hinges and began to swing open to reveal the darkened void behind it. The air released from behind the door smelt musty and damp. I picked up the miner’s lamp, got to my feet and put the haversack over my shoulder then stood in the doorway to see what was out there. The kerosene lamp picked out the limestone steps cut out into the rock, which led down into the pitch-black of the cave below. I turned to Truth and put my arm out for her to come to me. The little girl hesitated again; she peered out into the dark behind me, reluctant to move.

  “Truth, you gotta trust me. It’s gonna be all right, we need to go right now.”

  Truth hung back a moment longer, still in two minds. She turned briefly and looked at the bleak cellar she’d been staying in, then slowly walked towards me. I reached out, swept her up in the crook of my arm, put my back to the door and pushed it to. With Truth clinging for dear life around my neck, I held out the lamp in front of me and began to make my way down the stone steps. The air around us became cool and earthy; I trod down each of the stone steps carefully, unsure of my footing, the moss-covered stairway underneath my soles slippery and unsafe. Around ten or eleven steps down I felt a chilly stillness round me. I swung the miner’s lamp in my outstretched arm out into the blackness and caught sight of jagged rocks at my feet. Just as Lazarus had told me, the steps leading down to Hunter’s Hole opened up onto a ledge. I held Truth close to my chest and warily stepped down onto the stone shelf then lowered the little girl down beside me.

  Again, I swung the lamp back out in front of me. Below where we were standing I could just pick out a series of limestone ledges that looked like they had been cut out from the rock face: each had around a three-foot drop to the next and gradually led down to the cave floor. I could hear what sounded like rainfall above me; I stuck my head out and looked up into the blank chasm but could see nothing. I knew we had to keep moving. We’d be sitting ducks for Paxton and Jardine if we slowed the pace and began to waver. I held the lamp above Truth’s face. She peered back at me, her eyes squinting at the light.

  “We’re gonna head down there. I know you’re scared: just you do as I say and stay close to me now, you hear?”

  The little girl said nothing and simply nodded her head.

  “Here, you look after this for me.” I offered her the miner’s lamp. She took hold of the handle in her tiny fingers and held it out at arm’s length as I got down on my backside. I hung my legs over the edge then carefully eased myself down to the next ledge. I stretched my arms back up to Truth and lifted her down next to me. I got back on my ass and slid myself on to the next ledge, and we kept climbing down into the impenetrable blackness. Finally, I dropped my legs down and felt my feet touch the cave floor. I reached up for Truth one last time, set her down beside me and took her hand in mine.

  Loose stones shifted underfoot as I swung around, casting the beam of the kerosene lamp behind me. The sound of water dripping was more prominent now we were on solid ground. The lamplight picked out the glistening spray of rain falling from above us; I followed it back up the walls, which arched perhaps another two hundred feet up towards the surface. The outside entrance to the cave Lazarus had taken us to was in a field at the back of the pub. That had been covered, but could it be where the rainfall was coming from? There was no way that I was going to be able to climb up to there; even without Truth tagging along it would have
been nigh impossible to consider it as a possible escape route. I took a couple more tentative steps forward, searching out in front of me with the kerosene lamp for the dry riverbed that I’d been told about. We continued to stumble across the uneven cave floor, walking deeper into the cavern. I was unsure of where I was actually taking us. The glow of the lamp finally picked out what looked like a low opening in the rock face, about twelve feet away from where we were standing. I swung the haversack round in front of me, fumbled around inside and took out the compass and torch. I switched the flashlight on then gave the lamp to Truth.

  “Here, you hold on to this and stay here while I find us a way outta this place.”

  Truth reluctantly took hold of the handle of the lamp from me again and grabbed hold of the tail of my jacket with her hand. “Joseph, please don’t—”

  I interrupted her plea. “It’s OK, honey, I’m just gonna check out where we’re going next. I promise I won’t be long.” I reached down and touched the top of Truth’s head with the palm of my hand and rubbed her hair with my fingers. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” Truth sat down, holding the kerosene lamp out in front of her