Reaper

by Jon Grahame

  Jenny had rolled off the bed and Sandra was already there, cutting her loose. Kate opened the door of the second bedroom, where James had been held captive, and cut him loose too. Reaper stood and saw himself in the full-length mirror, and was shocked at the sight.

  His face and upper body were covered in blood. His hands and arms looked as if he had been butchering an ox. The glare in his eyes was intense. He felt he was death and he feared no one.

  The others stared at him in something approaching awe and perhaps a degree of fear. He opened the door of the pine wardrobe and lifted the flooring. Beneath it were handguns, belts and ammunition, another sheath knife and another set of throwing knives. Kate was the only other person to know about the cache.

  He went into the bathroom and washed his hands, but left the blood on his arms and his face and body.

  Tonight, he wanted to look as if he had returned from hell. Back in the bedroom, his special forces were arming themselves. Sandra had brought upstairs the sack of guns and ammunition he had brought, as well as the arms belonging to the dead men from downstairs. He fastened on the double-holstered belt he had secreted away and replaced the throwing knife he had left embedded in the man downstairs.

  Sandra said, ‘They came in the middle of the afternoon, front and rear entrances at once. Some came over the wall and silenced the lookouts. Arif . . .’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘The four of us were out. It was all over by the time we got back. They simply arrived in the village heavily armed. A few put up a fight.’ Her voice quavered. ‘Ashley and Gavin and Nick and some of the others took a beating. Jamie and Milo . . . were shot. Once they went down, the fight ended. James and I got here about four. We drove straight into an ambush. Nothing we could do. Same with Kate and Jenny when they got back half an hour later.

  Apparently, they had been planning it with Houseman for the last two weeks. They waited until you left before they moved in.’

  ‘How many?’ Reaper said.

  ‘Muldane, his sergeant, Houseman and, I’d guess, at least thirty men. They came armed with an assortment of weapons, but most have now upgraded from our arsenal.’

  ‘How many prisoners?’

  ‘They took most of the community who were here.’

  Reaper made a quick and rough calculation: some two dozen men, thirty-plus women, five children. ‘They haven’t touched the villages or farms yet,’ Sandra added.

  ‘They will, tomorrow,’ said Reaper. ‘Then Scarborough, Filey, Bridlington. Unless we stop them here.’

  ‘Muldane’s army is now down three,’ Kate pointed out.

  ‘Five,’ Reaper corrected.

  ‘Those aren’t bad odds,’ said Sandra. She bristled with attitude as ever. But Reaper could see and hear other things there too. Hurt. Grief. Venom. Hate.

  The fleeting thought went through Reaper’s mind that today he had already killed eleven men and felt no guilt. Tonight, with luck, he would kill more.

  ‘They have two machineguns covering our people,’

  Reaper said, ‘and plenty of guards around the village.

  Is Muldane still in the manor house?’

  Sandra said, ‘He went in there when you were taken to the barn. Mr Muscles was with him, two of his officers and two guards. Houseman was there too.

  They took some of the women.’ Reaper tensed. ‘To cook, not fuck,’ she said without embarrassment.

  ‘They’re planning a midnight feast.’ She nodded out of the window. ‘They’ve built a bonfire.’

  ‘I know,’ Reaper said. ‘I was going to be Guy Fawkes.’

  Kate put a hand on Reaper’s arm in alarm. He didn’t mention that Muldane’s plan was to burn them, as well.

  ‘We haven’t got long,’ he said. ‘Pretty soon they’ll discover I’m not in the barn, or someone will come and check here. I’ll go into the house the back way and take out Muldane and his party.’

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ said Sandra.

  ‘I wish you could. But you have to take out the two machine guns and rescue our people. Believe me, you’ve got the harder job. Look, by my estimation there are at least twenty-one of them out there. Say two on guard duty at front and back gates. That leaves seventeen. There are four visible on the machine guns, another three by the bonfire and two on the front steps of the house. That leaves eight out there somewhere in the darkness.’ He looked at each in turn. ‘You have to find them all and take them out. And one thing to remember before we start . . . take no prisoners. These are rapists and murderers. They all need to die or they’ll come back to haunt us. Like Houseman. No hesitation. And try not to take too many risks. No one is wearing a vest anymore.’

  His eyes moved from face to face and he was satisfied with the looks he got back. Even young James was determined and committed. He moved the lamp onto the landing and closed the bedroom door, so the room was in darkness, and they moved to the window.

  The manor house was across the square, the barn where he had been held was to the right. The captives were huddled on the left side of the manor house.

  Below and on the edge of the square to the right, was an open back truck with two men sitting next to a machine gun. On the far side of the square, behind and to the left of the captives, was another truck and another machine gun crew.

  ‘James and Jenny. You take out the machine gun down below. Take them out from here and then make sure no one else climbs up there to use it. As soon as they are down, target the other guards in the square, the ones by the bonfire and on the steps of the house.

  It’s likely you will come under attack yourself. Barricade the stairs when we leave and, if you have to get out, use the window in the back bedroom. It drops onto the roof of the bottle store.’

  They nodded affirmation that they understood his instructions.

  ‘Sandra, you and Kate are with me. We’ll circle round behind the other machine gun. I’ll try to get a knife to our people so they can have a chance of cutting themselves free. Then I’ll leave you and go into the house to find Muldane and Houseman. You have the hardest job.’ He would have preferred to leave Kate in the pub, shooting from cover but he could not allow his personal feelings to dictate roles. Kate was motivated and she was good. She was best for the job he planned for her and Sandra. ‘You two have to take out the gun team at close quarters – carbine, handgun, your choice. Then you’ll have to protect the position.’

  ‘How about using the machine gun?’ Sandra said.

  ‘You don’t know how,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how.’

  She nodded and licked her lips. He could tell she wanted to get started; her husband had been killed and she wanted revenge. He put a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘There’s plenty to do,’ he said. ‘But it has to be done right. You’ll also be protecting the rest of our people.’

  Sandra took his meaning and nodded again.

  ‘Ready?’ he said.

  ‘Ready,’ they all repeated.

  To James and Jenny, he said, ‘Unless someone raises the alarm or comes knocking on the door, wait for us to fire the first shot. Then don’t hesitate. Take them out.’

  They nodded and he led Sandra and Kate from the room. He switched off the landing light and went down to the ground floor. James looked down at them from above, already moving a chest of drawers towards the top of the stairs.

  Reaper called up. ‘This door locks from the inside.

  You might want to make it secure and take the key.’

  James nodded and they left him to his defensive preparations. They exited the pub by the back door through which Reaper had entered. Sandra and Kate both had handguns, but only Sandra had a carbine.

  They climbed the hill to the next cottage and, staying low, moved sideways through the dark. Reaper would have liked to take out the guards one by one but time was against them. It was 11:30, and Muldane would soon be coming out to start his midnight celebrations.

  They were at the side of the village now and, between the ou
tlines of the last two cottages, they could see the square in all its arc-lit glory. Low and silent, they hugged the shadows until they were about fifty yards behind the lorry with the machine gun. To its left was the huddled mass of their people, sitting disconsolate, some in despair. A few quiet sobs, a low murmur of male voices. Reaper saw the outline of a guard, strolling behind the roped captives. He held a rifle casually at waist level. Reaper indicated that his two companions should remain lying on the ground. He moved forward silently, the Bowie knife in his right hand.

  He was one with the night. He was a shade of death.

  He felt the souls of those he had already killed that day around him in the dark and he wore them like a cloak. The guard never heard him and never turned round. He clamped the guard’s mouth with his left hand and cut his throat with the knife in his right.

  There was a cough, a spurt and the man gurgled and sagged, and Reaper lay him down. His own blood raced through his veins. He turned and saw Sandra laying down the body of a second guard he had not seen.

  The girl got to her feet, her face ashen in the glow of the lamps, his spare Bowie knife in her right hand dripping blood, more of it staining her front. The body at her feet still twitched, but made no sound. He went to her and they sank to their knees on the grass to remain out of sight.

  ‘I didn’t see him,’ he said.

  She nodded, eyes wide, shocked at taking a life in such a bloody fashion, destroying it while it breathed in her arms. He nodded in return and kissed her forehead. He lifted two fingers, meaning her and Kate, and pointed at the lorry and she gave another nod.

  She took the carbine of the guard she had killed and his spare ammunition. He took the Glocks of the dead men and the spare carbine, and moved into the shadows at the side of the house, giving thanks to the god of death for granting him a guardian angel in the shape of an eighteen-year-old girl.

  The captive men were closest to the house. The first one to see him sat up in surprise and, despite Reaper putting a finger to his lips, a murmur rippled as word was passed. The noise was not great, but it caused the men on the back of the lorry to take notice. They stood up and stared and one moved a lamp as if trying to find the cause of the disturbance. The men immediately lapsed back into silence, and the moment passed.

  Reaper crawled among them.

  ‘About time you showed up,’ Ashley said, in a low voice.

  Reaper grinned up at him and cut the plastic cuffs with a throwing knife. Ashley was tied to the Reverend Nick at the ankles.

  ‘God bless you, Reaper,’ Nick said, making it a bene-diction.

  Reaper gave Ashley the knife and passed two more to other men. One, he realised, was Pete.

  ‘Sandra and Kate will take the lorry,’ he whispered to them. ‘Jenny and James will take the other. They’re in the pub. Stay low. The shooting is about to start.’

  He left the spare weapons with Ashley and backed out from the group into the deep shadows at the side of the house. He was about to go round the back when the alarm was raised.

  ‘He’s gone!’ one of the guards shouted. ‘Reaper’s gone!’

  As the two men in the back of the truck stood up again and stared across the square, two shots from behind threw them forward and off the end of the truck. More shots rang out: rapid fire from the upstairs of the pub. It had started, and Reaper was not where he had planned to be. Bugger the back door – he would go through the front.

  He drew both handguns and looked round the corner of the manor house. The two guards on the steps were crouched behind the Doric columns, shooting back at the pub. Two more at the bonfire were aiming at the back of the lorry near the captives. More shots came from out of the darkness. The lights of a truck came over the hill and headed down towards the village square at speed. Someone directed a lamp from the back of the captured lorry and it picked out the approaching vehicle.

  In the back were at least six more armed men dressed in black. Shit. It looked like they had underestimated.

  The whole situation was about to get even worse.

  A shadow rose from the crowd of captives and leapt onto the back of the lorry. First his size gave him away, and then his dark skin glowed in the lights and Reaper had his identity confirmed. Ashley grabbed the machine gun and lifted it into his arms, cradling it as if it weighed nothing. Legs spread for balance with the ammunition belt trailing, he fired across the square at the oncoming lorry. Sandra and Kate knelt by his side, firing their carbines. Ashley’s action might just have tipped the balance.

  Reaper shouted at two of the nearest men: Smiffy and Gavin.

  ‘Get me up!’ he said.

  They hoisted him swiftly to the nearest window. It was single-pane glass that he shattered with the butt of a Glock. He felt inside, released the catch and pushed it up. For a moment he almost lost his balance and bullets hit the brickwork around them. One of the men holding him grunted as he was hit, but they didn’t relinquish their support. He cut his wrist on the broken glass but then he was tumbling inside into the darkened sitting room. The battle outside continued, but Reaper had his own war to fight.

  This was one of the manor house apartments. The door was unlocked and he let himself out into a lit corridor. Another apartment was to his left, but the corridor to his right led to the front hall. He was at the turn in three strides, glanced round and saw a guard crouching in cover and firing through a broken window. There was no time for assessments or plans; he simply went round the corner with both guns levelled and shot the man dead. Beyond him, a second guard turned in surprise from another window. He shot him, too.

  He paused before stepping into the hall and bullets hit the plasterwork near him. He heard the rattle of a door and shouted curses. ‘The bastards have locked it,’ someone shouted. Then Houseman’s voice saying, ‘This way!’ and footsteps on the stairs going up, and more gunfire from the dining room that overlooked the square.

  Reaper went round the corner in time to see Muldane’s sergeant disappearing along an upstairs corridor. He guessed Houseman was taking them to the servants’ stairs at the back of the house. He was about to follow when he caught a glimpse of movement through the open doorway of the dining room.

  A man’s rifle shot scored his left arm. Reaper fired back, put him down and stepped to the doorway. The second man in occupation, who had been firing through a broken window, threw down his weapon and raised his arms.

  ‘No!’ he shouted.

  Reaper shot him: chest and groin. He didn’t deserve a head shot.

  Now he was up the stairs and in pursuit. He heard screams and shots and more curses. He went down the rear stairs and into a stone flagged lobby. The rear exterior door to the left was still closed, the door to the kitchen was open. He stepped inside. Muldane’s sergeant was holding his eyes and shouting in pain and, from the colour of his skin, Reaper guessed that he had received the boiling contents of the upturned empty pan that lay on the floor. Jean Megson was also lying there. The warm woman with the eye-catching décolletage, who had been one of his first recruits; the woman with the generous spirit who had mothered four-year-old Ollie Collins through his own personal tragedy. Jean lay on her back on the kitchen floor, a bullet hole in her forehead.

  Two other women crouched in a corner. Muldane stood over them, beating them with his swagger stick and screaming at them. Reaper felt a sudden calm as if he was in a film that had slipped into slow motion.

  Muldane was demanding the key to the back door.

  The women simply cried out at each blow. The sergeant had shot Jean. In his pain, he had dropped the revolver he had used. Reaper wanted him to have more pain.

  He shot him in the lower back so that the bullet would exit via his genitals. The large man fell screaming. The shot got Muldane’s attention. Only now did he drop the swagger stick and reach for the holstered gun at his waist. Reaper levelled a gun at him and shot him in the stomach. No quick death for him. He, too, deserved pain.

  The two women were looking at him in
shock. He guessed he looked a sight.

  ‘Where’s Houseman?’ They shook their heads. ‘It’s safer upstairs,’ he said, and they went past him, one pausing to touch Jean’s lifeless body, then they were gone.

  Muldane rolled about on the floor, holding his wound. Reaper picked up the revolver dropped by the sergeant and threw it in the sink. He pushed Muldane to one side so he could take the gun from his holster and threw that in the same place. Muldane stared up at him, the pain distorting his face and making a mockery of his dimples.

  ‘Please,’ he said.

  Reaper shot him again. Twice. Once in each knee.

  Now. Where was Houseman?

  The women had locked the door between the kitchen and the rest of the house and hidden the key. It seemed they had done the same with the back door. So where had Houseman gone? There was a pantry, which was empty, and a room that, in times gone by, had been a sitting room for servants. It was in darkness, but he felt the breeze from the open window as soon as he went in.

  The bastard had got away.

  Reaper realised the shooting outside had become sporadic. But who had won?

  He climbed out of the open window and slumped against the wall. The guns were still in his hands, but he had no idea how many shots he had fired, or how many bullets he had left. He slid down the wall and sat on the ground, letting his senses explore the dark.

  Where was the bastard? He heard the swish of a sheet of canvas, and he knew.

  Reaper ran round the back of the house to the barn.

  The door was open, not just the small access gate, but the full-sized door. Inside was Pete Mack’s Harley, his ;;/99999pride and joy, a machine that could take Houseman to safety at 120 miles an hour. Reaper stepped into the doorway as the engine roared into life and the headlight was switched on. Blinded by the light, Reaper pointed both guns and fired, but was knocked sideways as the bike surged forward. He rolled on the ground and continued to fire, but he knew his bullets were going wildly into the night. The bike’s rear tyre skidded but Houseman got it straightened. Cross-country on this machine in the dark was not an option.