by Arnot, Tim
There was the rat-a-tat-tat sound of gunfire in the distance.
‘Something’s certainly rattled their cage,’ Shea panted.
After a minute he said, ‘I don’t think it’s us. They’re not coming this way!’
Flick noticed that Shea had his knife in his hand, and she drew an arrow from her quiver and nocked it onto the bow. They cautiously crept towards the nearest building. As they broke the cover of the trees, there was a loud crack from somewhere above them. Flick felt a breath of wind across the side of her face. She looked up. There was a wooden tower with a man at the top of it. He was struggling to reload a rifle and gesticulate wildly at her, both at the same time.
Without thinking, she raised the bow and loosed the arrow. The guard stopped gesticulating and toppled slowly from the tower. Flick stood watching as he fell silently, her mouth open, staring. Or he might have been screaming and she just couldn’t hear it above the wailing siren. The man thudded onto the ground where he remained motionless.
Flick stood there looking at him. A man, dead, with her arrow sticking out of him.
I should get the arrow.
But she couldn’t move.
Shea pulled her into the shadow of the building and she snapped out of it. He held his thumb up.
‘I just killed a man,’ Flick shouted.
‘Good shot!’ Shea shouted back. ‘It was us or him. Come on, we have to keep going.’
She knew it was true. She had to put it out of her mind, not let it affect her. She could worry about it later if they survived, and if they didn’t, well it wouldn’t matter. Flick nocked another arrow.
The building was a large, squat affair, with no obvious windows or doors. They edged their way along the wall. The sounds of gunfire continued in the distance. There was the rat-a-tat-tat and then an answering burst. Some of the shots sounded much nearer, though most appeared to be some distance away. There was lots of shouting and the occasional scream.
They had come to the end of the building, realising that they were now exposed.
‘Hey you! Stop!’ A man in grey uniform ran towards them, pulling a gun from a holster. He stopped to take aim. The flash from the muzzle was brilliant, and Flick felt rather than heard the impact of the bullet.
40
Final Assault
FLICK FELT HERSELF being yanked back. She realised Shea had pulled her out of sight, away from the line of fire.
He held her face, looking intently into her eyes. She could see his lips moving. He was talking to her but she couldn’t hear anything.
‘I’m all right,’ she shouted. She pointed to her ears, and then she realised that Shea had his hands over them: that’s why she couldn’t hear him.
She tapped his hands. ‘I thought I’d gone deaf!’
He took his hands away and grinned. ‘Are you hurt?’
Now she felt the throbbing in her side. She looked down and saw a smear of red on her clothes. Instantly she felt faint and wobbled slightly. ‘I’m hit, she said.’
Shea looked round. ‘We’ve got to get you under cover,’ he said. He pointed at a door a little way off. ‘There. Can you make it?’
Flick looked at the door. It seemed an awfully long way away, but she nodded.
Shea put her arm around his shoulder. ‘Come on, I’ve got you,’ he said, and they made their way to the door. It wasn’t locked and they ducked inside.
The inside of the building was vast and empty. Shea propped Flick against the wall and pulled the door shut. He wedged his knife between the handle and the door frame, creating a makeshift lock. ‘That should hold them off for a few minutes at least,’ he said.
With the wall between them and the sirens, it was much quieter. Flick watched as Shea knelt down beside her and pulled her shirt up.
‘It was much better when you did that last night,’ she joked. But that sent a spasm of pain through her and she whimpered.
Shea opened his water bottle and poured some of the liquid onto Flick’s side, cleaning away the blood.
He looked up. ‘You’ll live,’ he said, ‘it’s just a scratch, although you’ll have a nice scar to tell the kids about!’
‘If I live that long,’ she said.
He ripped a length of material from his pack and tied it around her. ‘There, good as new. Now come on, we need to get going.’
‘My bow! I dropped my bow!’ Panic knotted her stomach as Flick realised she was defenceless.
‘We’ll get it,’ Shea said. ‘Use your knife for now.’
Shea freed his own knife from the door frame and pulled the door open. The first thing that Flick noticed was that the wailing siren had stopped. Had they cancelled their emergency now, she wondered, or were they just as sick of the noise as she was. There was the distant sound of machine gun fire, followed by an explosion, and she knew the answer.
‘What on earth is going on?’ she asked, ‘It sounds like a major invasion!’
‘I don’t know,’ Shea replied, ‘but whatever it is, it seems to have got their attention.’ He checked outside the door and beckoned her to follow. ‘We might still get out of this alive, you know.’
They crept back to the corner of the building and Shea peeped round. ‘Clear,’ he whispered.
Flick’s bow and dropped arrow were still lying on the ground, so he picked them up for her.
‘Thanks,’ she said, nocking the arrow back onto the string.
‘Let’s keep looking. They’ve got to be in one of these buildings.’ Shea said.
Shards of brick and mortar flew from the wall, peppering Flick’s face and hair.
Shit, that was close!
She spun around and loosed the arrow, which just clattered noisily to the ground. She’d missed.
But the thug wasn’t looking at her. He was looking the other way at four men in black body armour advancing on him. He raised his machine gun to fire, but instead of spouting flame and lead it fell to the ground as the man did a strange little jig in a spray of red mist. A fraction of a second later, Flick heard the sound of the gunshots.
She ducked back in shock, leaning back against the wall for a moment.
Shit! Kingsmen!
Shea started to say something, but she held up a finger and he shut up.
Realising they couldn’t stay where they were, she pointed back the way they’d come.
‘Kingsmen,’ she finally managed to say once they’d rounded the next corner. ‘Just turned a guy to pulp.’ She leaned over and threw up that morning’s leftover stew.
‘Come on,’ Shea said, ‘we’ve still got those hostages to find.’
The next building was only a few metres away, and there was a door on this side. Shea tried the handle, but it was locked.
‘No good, keep moving,’ he said.
The sounds of gunfire were getting louder. Two thugs barrelled around a corner and rushed towards them, but they didn’t seem to notice Flick or Shea, and the reason was quickly obvious; four armoured Kingsmen were chasing them. There was the loud crack of gunfire, and the two thugs dropped almost at Flick’s feet. She stood there, open mouthed in terror until Shea pulled her into the cover of a dumpster.
It could only have been a fraction of a second that she’d stood there, for the armoured men were still coming towards them. They stopped and inspected the bodies.
‘Not them, keep looking,’ one said.
Shea motioned her to stay still and they waited silently for the Kingsmen to go.
‘If Griffin’s thugs don’t get us, the Kingsmen will,’ Flick said despondently.
‘Don’t give up hope,’ Shea said, giving her arm a squeeze.
They crept on along the side of the building. ‘This looks like it was the main terminal, I’ll bet they are in here somewhere,’ Shea said.
There were no windows low enough that they could see in, but eventually they found a door that wasn’t locked. Inside was a long featureless corridor. The door swung shut with a clunk, and plunged them into darkness.
‘Just feel your way along the wall,’ Shea said.
After a dozen or so metres the corridor turned a corner.
‘Ow! Stairs!’ Flick cried out as she walked straight into them and fell forward. Her bow clattered on the floor. She scrabbled about for it, and slung it over her shoulder. ‘I guess I won’t need it now.’
The stairs turned another corner, and light filtered down from windows high above them. Soon it was light enough to see their way. Eventually they reached a large open space, filled with lines of pillars. One wall was glazed from floor to ceiling, and looked out over the grassy field that they had so recently crossed. Shadows of people played through a large plastic curtain. Flick tapped Shea on the shoulder, pointed, and held a finger to her lips. He nodded.
They crept forward and moved the curtain carefully aside. There were five chairs facing away from them, only two of which were empty.
‘Hannah, Jules, Chas, it’s me, Flick,’ she said, rushing to them. The figures squirmed and wriggled as soon as they heard her voice. She drew her knife and started cutting at the ropes, and Shea did the same.
She heard the sound of a gun being cocked, and froze.
‘Ah Felicity, so nice of you to join us.’ The voice was oh so familiar; it had haunted her nightmares for weeks.
Griffin. She froze.
‘You keep turning up alive. Such a disappointment.’ He waved the gun at her.
‘And Mr O’Connell too,’ he continued. ‘Although I was expecting you to come in by the front door, not skulking around the back. But ten out of ten for resourcefulness.’
Griffin stepped out of the shadows. He had a revolver pointed at her. She recognised Ron Welch among his henchmen, but said nothing.
‘Drop the weapons. Didn’t your parents tell you that children shouldn’t play with knives?’ They clattered to the ground. He waved to his henchmen who kicked the knives away before grabbing hold of Flick and Shea.
Ron hissed in Flick’s ear, ‘Hello Carter, I’m going to enjoy killing you.’
‘Not so hasty Ronald, all in good time,’ Griffin said genially.
He looked at Flick. ‘My own boy was such a… disappointment. But young Ronald here is a delight. I’m thinking of adopting him, you know. It’s so important to have good parents, don’t you think?’
Griffin looked at her quizzically.
‘Oh I was forgetting, your parents are dead. I had such fun killing them too. And your sweet little sister. I had such fun killing her.’
That sounded wrong, Flick thought. Surely they’d died in the fire? Griffin hadn’t killed them himself, had he?
‘You bastard!’ It came out as a whisper, yet was filled with all the venom she could muster. She tried to wrench herself free, but Ron’s grip was too tight, and the sudden pain from the wound in her side made her scream in agony.
Griffin sat in a chair opposite and placed the gun on a low table. ‘Now Ronald. Take your time, savour the moment. I shall watch and enjoy.’
Flick steeled herself for the end. Ron’s face was right up against hers. She could feel the warmth from his skin, feel the moist dampness of his breath and smell the awful stench of it. She felt the cold steel of his knife against her neck and shut her eyes. I’m coming Rosie.
‘AMELIA!’ The shout took Flick completely by surprise, and evidently surprised Ron too, because the knife disappeared from her throat. There was a loud crash, and Flick opened her eyes to see Ron falling to the floor under a pile of broken chair legs.
‘Well, come on then Flick, don’t just stand there!’ It was Hannah. She must have worked herself free from the partly cut ropes while no one was looking. She handed Flick the knife.
Griffin was reaching for his gun, an angry roar bellowing from his mouth. Flick launched herself at him, but staggered from the impact of a blow from someone she didn’t see, and dropped to her knees. A boot made contact with her and she toppled, momentarily senseless.
‘Touched a nerve did we?’ Griffin smirked.
There was a loud crash as the doors at the far end of the room burst open and the room filled with black figures. Shots rang out.
‘Nobody move!’ a female voice barked, ‘Everyone down on the ground!’
Flick stayed on the ground where she was, but slowly felt along the floor for her knife. The room lit up as something flashed, and there were several incredibly loud bangs, but she ignored them as she grabbed the knife. She looked up just in time to see Shea throw his knife at one of the black figures. There was a bright flash and another bang, and she watched, stunned as Shea stopped, surprise registering on his face. There was a little red flower on his shirt, and as it grew bigger, he looked at her and sank to his knees.
‘Shea! No!’ She screamed. She turned and saw the figure, the red-haired Kingsman woman, with the gun in her hand. She raised her knife to throw it and there was another voice shouting.
‘Flick! No! Stop!’
It sounded familiar.
Adam?
What was he doing here?
From the corner of her eye she saw Griffin. He was getting away. She couldn’t have that, no matter what. She launched herself at him. She saw the flash from the muzzle of the gun and felt the searing pain, but she was close, so close. Her knife made contact and she felt the hot spray of his life gush onto her skin as everything went black.
Adam raised his hands. His throat went dry as he looked into the black depths of the gun barrels. ‘Don’t…’ he managed to croak.
Then the barrels all dropped. ‘Nice of you gentlemen to join us.’ It was Dixon. ‘We’re splitting into teams,’ she said. ‘We’ll go to the top and work our way down, that way no one will surprise us from behind. Anyone surrenders, tie ‘em up and tag ‘em. If they resist, you know what to do. Right, move out.’
They nodded, and quickly climbed the stairs to the top, dispersing into teams and searching from room to room. In between the calls of ‘Clear!’ Adam heard occasional exchanges of gunfire, but each time the silence that followed was filled with another call of ‘Clear!’
‘Top floor is secure.’
‘Good work, men.’ Dixon nodded as they moved down to the next level.
The third floor they reached was at the bottom of a double flight of stairs. ‘This must be the main departures and arrivals hall,’ Dixon said. They checked the corridors, and that just left the big hall, with two sets of double doors. Lieutenant Dixon gingerly pushed the doors open a crack and peeped inside before ducking back to cover.
‘I counted nine, including at least three civilians tied up. Now fire only on my command, unless fired upon. Is that understood?’
Everyone nodded.
‘Good. We go on three. One… Two… Three!’
They rushed in. Initially the people at the far end of the room seemed oblivious of them, but Dixon fired three rounds into the ceiling, and that seemed to grab their attention.
‘Nobody move!’ she barked. ‘Everyone down on the ground!’
People dropped, but not all of them. Some were tied to chairs and obviously couldn’t move. Adam saw that several of the people appeared to be fighting, and were oblivious to their presence. Then he saw one of them had a knife and started to throw it in their direction. In a flash, Dixon raised her gun and let off a round. The figure dropped. One of the other fighters screamed. It was a woman. She sounded familiar… Flick! Then he saw she had a knife and was about to throw it.
He shouted, desperately against the noise, ‘Flick! No! Stop!’
But she wasn’t throwing the knife at them, she was attacking one of the others.
It was still too late and a second shot rang out and they both dropped in a spray of blood.
Adam screamed, ‘No! Flick…’
He ran across the room towards where she lay, oblivious to everyone and everything else. There was shouting and there were shots, but he didn’t care; he just ignored them. He knelt d
own beside his sister and pulled her off the body of the man she’d been attacking. She was drenched in blood but he held her gently and cradled her in his arms.
‘I’m sorry, Flick,’ he sobbed. ‘I’m so, so, sorry.’ Tears ran down his face, and a tear dripped onto Flick’s cheek. He wiped it off tenderly and reached down and kissed her forehead.
He didn’t know how long he’d knelt there, but at some point he’d become aware that the man Flick had attacked was George Griffin. He was clearly dead; Flick’s knife was still sticking out of his throat. But he didn’t care.
Arms grabbed him and pulled him away. Two men appeared with a stretcher and placed Flick onto it before whisking her body off somewhere. Only then did Adam become aware of who was holding him.
It was Lieutenant Dixon.
‘You shot her!’ he sobbed. Then he turned around to face her, and screamed with all his might. ‘You shot her!’
She slapped him hard around the face, ‘Pull yourself together, soldier! Of course I didn’t.’
Her words didn’t register as he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.
‘Bastards, you killed him!’ a voice said.
‘Ron?’
Adam realised too late that the blood stained figure had a gun in his hand. He raised it and fired.
41
On Trial. Again.
FLICK SLOWLY BECAME aware of a white light.
So this is what it’s like being dead, she thought.
Then she gradually became aware of more things. Pain. Her jaw hurt, her chest felt like it had been sat on by an elephant, her arms and hands hurt. Her feet didn’t hurt. She guessed that was a blessing at least. Something… was stuck to her arm. She opened her eyes and blinked. She was lying on her back in a room. It was a strange room, white, sterile, like a hospital. That was it; she was in a hospital.
Then the memories started coming back. The fight, the Kingsmen, Shea, Adam. She struggled to sit up.
‘Shea!’ she croaked.
‘Easy now.’