Forgotten

by Neven Carr

  I stood stunned.

  Who the hell was this man?

  And to think that only minutes earlier I had questioned if Saul could even take the monster on.

  Saul collected his knife and the mammoth’s gun. I gathered up the other gun near Moron’s still groaning body and then raced out to join Saul. His good arm swung around me, his head laid on mine. “Why is it when I want you to run and hide, you don’t.”

  I laughed.

  He kissed the top of my head. “What about the other guy?” I was just about to reply when a familiar voice resonated from the scrubland.

  Ethan. “Oh no, you don’t,” he said. With a sizeable-rifle in his hand, he dragged the now conscious bald man by his shirt collar. Moron was hysterical, wrestling to free himself, screaming something about getting the bitch.

  I smiled, smugly.

  “Get your ugly butt back over here, matey.” Ethan threw him on the ground near the mammoth. He then used the stump of his rifle and struck him hard enough to return him to a dazed state. Blood dribbled from Ethan’s lip, a reddish bruise had developed on his cheek. Other than that, he appeared okay.

  “Tad late,” Saul said.

  “Been dancing with a gypsy, mate, except he really needed to practice his two-step.” Ethan pulled out a set of handcuffs from his small, khaki backpack and chucked them to Saul. Saul used them to secure the mammoth’s hands. Ethan slapped a second set on Moron, and then bent to examine Moron’s head wound. “Hey, Angel, are you responsible for this?”

  My ‘yes’ was full of pride.

  “Sweet,” he chuckled.

  “A third man?” Saul slumped against the huge rock. His face was pallid. He was still losing blood. I handed Moron’s gun to Ethan and knelt down to look at Saul’s wound.

  “Uh huh,” Ethan replied. “And where there are three….”

  “There could be four or more.”

  “Why so many? All they wanted was me.” Dried blood had fastened parts of Saul’s shirt.

  “We obviously have a reputation,” Ethan said with a wicked half-grin.

  “Got to get out of here, Ethan.” Saul grimaced as I took a closer look at his wound.

  “No. We have to stop the bleeding first,” I said.

  Ethan bent closer. “Redecorating your shirt, my friend.” He ripped the sleeve apart. It revealed an ugly, black gouge, orbited by purplish swelling. Blood dribbled down a solitary track.

  “Thought the shirt made my skin look pale,” Saul said. “Anyway, it’s only a scratch.”

  Ethan inspected the wound more closely. “Bit more than a scratch.” He dug out a roll of stretch bandage from his pack and flung it to me. “Here, Angel, wrap it firmly. It’ll do till we get someone to look at it.”

  Saul sat watching me as I dressed his wound, occasionally brushing wayward hair from my face. Every now and again, our eyes would catch and I could feel myself blushing. The attention didn’t go unnoticed.

  “I take it this means we have talked and we’re all friends now?” Ethan said.

  “No talking yet,” I said, “but yes, all friends.”

  “Talking’s overrated, anyhow.” Ethan lifted his face and wiped some blood off it.

  That’s when I noticed a well-worn, but ugly scar running beneath his chin. I pushed the scar to the later on file. Bandage on, I helped Saul up.

  “What’s the plan?” Ethan asked, still guarding the two semi-unconscious men.

  “Signal our guys to get here.” Saul returned his switchblade to its rightful place, and then inspected the mammoth’s gun for bullets. “And explore the grounds for others. We have no idea how many there are.”

  “Contacted our buddies already. They should be here soon.”

  Ethan pulled out a small handgun from his pack and offered it to me. I took it, twisting it back and forth. He wanted to show me how to use it. But there was no need. I mechanically ejected the magazine, checked the bullets and once satisfied, snapped it closed.

  Both men appeared thunderstruck.

  “What?” I said. “I learned how to use one of these when I was only a….” I stopped and grimaced.

  Shit! What was I saying?

  Ethan rubbed the back of his head. “Well, of course you did; somewhere between learning to recite the alphabet and counting to twenty. It’s certainly going to be my number one priority if I ever have a kid.” He looked at Saul. “You’ve got your hands full here. She’s beautiful and dangerous. And you were worried about keeping her safe!”

  Saul stepped closer, looking as amazed as I felt. “Who taught you?”

  “I don’t remember.” My brain strained for a memory… any memory. All of a sudden, an enormous wave of repulsion struck me. I loosened my hold on the weapon. It fell to the ground with a clear thud. Had my father taught me? Was there a hidden agenda behind my knowing how to use a gun? And, again, why couldn’t I remember?

  Saul picked up the gun, placed it in my opened hand. “Hold onto it, just in case.” He turned to Ethan. “I’ll get Claudia down to the SUB until you give the all clear, and then I need to get her to a safe house.”

  “Annie’s?” I detected a little surprise in Ethan’s voice.

  Saul shrugged. “Always first choice.”

  “You sure about that, mate?”

  “I trust Annie. What’s your problem?”

  Unmistakable unease volleyed between them. “I agree, Annie’s the best, but… no, forget I said anything.”

  It was becoming progressively difficult to determine when the pair were serious and when they weren’t. “Is there a problem?” I asked.

  “It’s just Ethan looking for one.” That was Saul sounding suspiciously blasé.

  “I’ll see what information I can get from these two pieces of shit before Scotty takes over,” Ethan said. “Then meet you at Annie’s with everything we’ve got.” Ethan paused. “You were right, you know.”

  They eyed each other again, silently communicating. It was becoming extremely annoying.

  “What?” I asked. No answer. “Is it possible just once, that you two could speak plain English for us poor unfortunate lay people?”

  “Ooo… there’s that Italian feistiness again, mate… ouch!”

  Saul wrapped his good arm around my neck. “Claudia,” his low, creamy voice whispered in my ear. “There are several things I’d like to do with you right now.” My gut heaved and crashed. “Bringing you up to speed, being just one of them.”

  That reminded me of my own bringing up to speed.

  “But my only priority right now, is to get you somewhere safe. Everything else, later. Okay?”

  Okay.

  Ethan hauled each man alongside the rock. Even the mammoth appeared less menacing next to Ethan. I didn’t want to know what Ethan was going to do to them, but frankly, I didn’t care. These men almost killed Saul, would’ve killed me.

  The downhill climb proved quick and effortless compared to the uphill jaunt. My concern for Saul, however, was still present. But, considering the injury he’d sustained, Saul’s resilience was remarkable. His skin was ashen, his face slightly withered, but his body was otherwise as physically sharp as his switchblade. His eyes sprinted in all directions as we coasted down, examining every close section of bushland.

  Maybe this compulsion of his to keep me from harm’s way fed his determination and drove his ailing body. I was unsure.

  All I knew was that it was damn unnatural.

  When we returned to the house, armed men and women patrolled the grounds. I froze. Saul explained he knew them and I eased up. Even so, the whole thing seemed bizarre. All these people here because of me.

  A short, solid man clothed in black and clutching a rifle marched over to us. A plum-colored bandana held his shock of red hair in place.

  “Nice one, Scotty,” Saul said, tapping his own forehead.

  “A newbie,” the man called Scotty, answered. He flicked a glance at Saul’s wound. “You okay?”

  “Fine. Where’s Jenna?�
��

  “Here,” came a strong voice to our rear.

  A pretty, elfin-faced woman appeared, also wearing black, also carrying a large rifle. Her stern expression, the rigorous way she held herself made me picture a lethal bullet in high heels.

  Saul issued several instructions to them.

  Scotty flicked his finger from his narrow forehead. “On it Saul, like a tick on a dog.”

  And the pair left. Saul then led me to a large, steel door towards the back of the house. “What’s this?”

  “Somewhere safe for now. Until we can leave.” He faltered. Something was clearly troubling him.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Let’s just get inside. I’ll feel better when you’re not out in the open like this.”

  I watched the compulsive routine to unlock the door. When I entered the room, I was immediately bowled back. It was like a high tech, concrete cellblock.

  “Is this the part where you tell me you’re some British spy working for the Secret Service or something?”

  Saul chuckled as he closed the door with a heavy thud. “No, Claudia, not at all.”

  “But this room….”

  “It’s handy at times.” He crossed towards what I guessed was a control panel and fingered some buttons. Within seconds, several monitors became alive. On them, I recognized Saul’s driveway, certain sections adjoining the house, the start of the long track to Saul’s house. It was impressive.

  I edged up to him. He had now activated a laptop, situated to one side of him, coding in passwords, maneuvering the mouse, bringing more technology to life. He glanced sideways at me, possibly detected the puzzled expression on my face. He ran a soft finger along my hot cheek, across my opened lips where it lingered for a moment. It sent mad tremors through me.

  “What?” he said. He was semi-sitting on the edge of the panel.

  “Who are you?”

  A soulful flicker of his eyelids. “No one important.”

  I seriously doubted that.

  “Well then… who were you?”

  “Someone I want to forget.”

  I touched his face. “Saul….”

  His eyes widened, that unearthly blueness appeared to be swallowed beneath a shadow of despair, looking not towards me, but to somewhere beyond. I turned and spotted an electronic whiteboard positioned at the very back of the room. There were photographs fixed to it… photos of people. The methodical set-up, though, the flawless handwritten script beneath them was the eerie bit, like something I would see on a CSI program.

  Saul has a history….

  Ethan’s words now bothered me.

  I looked back at Saul. His pained expression bothered me more. With my chest thudding, I slowly made my way towards the board, all the time wondering if I was doing the right thing. Once there, I skimmed over the smiling faces, young and old, adults and children lined up in some religious order.

  I glanced at Saul again. He remained half-seated, one arm folded across his chest, head bowed. He said nothing, as silent and as static as the rigid images before me. The thundering in my chest became almost unbearable.

  “Are they missing?” I said.

  “No,” was his only answer.

  “Are they dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  A slight pause.

  “Murdered.”

  I drew breath.

  “All of them?”

  “Yes.”

  I felt those horrible, intuitive prickles scuttle across my skin. “Who are they?”

  No answer.

  I searched the still faces, optimistically waiting for one of them to communicate to me. I inspected the features of the young woman, so happy, so vibrant, her blonde, flyaway hair framing her pretty face. Below her image, were two children.

  The little boy an absolute replica of the woman.

  Her son, perhaps.

  The girl a replica of….

  I shrank back, praying my eyes were playing tricks on me. “She looks like… you.” I half choked.

  “She wanted to be like me.”

  An unbelievable horror whacked me breathless.

  Saul has a history, I heard Ethan’s voice again. It’s not a good one.

  Semi-blinded by shock, I searched the other faces, becoming aware of more physical similarities.

  More family.

  Saul’s family.

  My god! I struggled for air, struggled for some form of composure.

  How does someone survive something like this? I have been there, he had whispered at our first meeting. But not in my wildest imagination could I have expected anything quite like this.

  There were no words, nothing I could say to lessen the magnitude of what this man had borne. In a thousand lifetimes, I could never comprehend the degree of anger, the hurt that he must have suffered. I understood what it was to lose, but to lose your wife, your children and I was only guessing, other family members, was incomprehensible. I didn’t need explanations; I didn’t need any further information from him.

  I knew enough.

  Hidden here in this underground tomb, lay the true essence of the enigma of Saul Reardon. The true reason for his existence, his obsessive drive, his undying energy, his legitimate compulsion to help those in need, his real motivation.

  And although many gaps, many unanswered questions still prowled amongst those four walls, they were his gaps to fill, his questions to answer, and his alone.

  One that, someday, I may be honored to hear.

  I returned to him and pulled his head down onto my shoulder. I wept silently for his beautiful family, for him, occasionally allowing one or two tears to fall. He wrapped his arm around my waist and held me tight.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  The meticulous mini shrine spoke volumes. It may have been a long time ago, but much remained. “Thank you,” I added.

  “For what?” He had loosened his hold by then and I noticed his eyes slowly returning to their natural state.

  “For allowing me in.” And however much I desired to, I didn’t kiss him. Not there in that sacred place of lives past, that place of deep-rooted memories. Instead, it was a site to be respected, safeguarded, treasured. Some parts of one’s life, some parts of one’s most inner core, should always remain sanctioned.

  There was time for us later.

  As if shoving those memories to the back of the room and his mind, Saul returned to his laptop, to the screens above, to the entire unknown, which, like a perpetual shroud of uncertainty, still lay before us.

  Chapter 28

  Araneya Estate

  1989

  “I HAVE A present for you, Carino.”

  The little girl searched her father’s eyes only to find the same disturbing look that had been part of him for the past several months.

  She didn’t like it. She didn’t like the man who had once been her beloved Papa. He had changed.

  “What present?” She lacked the usual enthusiasm that came with any suggestion of a gift. The only present she really wanted was her old Papa back.

  He was seated in a cross-legged position on the freshly clipped grass to the rear of Alice’s cottage. Ahead the ripples of the wide, meandering river clipped the shore’s stony edge. “A very special one,” he replied, in a voice that mirrored his new self. He then drew out a small, carved box.

  The little girl, also cross-legged, frowned. “What is it, Papa?”

  “Open it and you will see.”

  Spurred on by her father’s marked impatience, she took the box and tried to pry the lid open. But her fingers were too small and her strength inadequate. The father, clearly irritated, seized the box. In a few short moments, he loosened the stiff restraints, keeping the lid down and then returned it to his watchful daughter. “Now try,” he grumbled.

  The girl began to pull at the lid, increasingly wary of its contents. The wooden lid lifted. She then stared at the
object cushioned amongst the blood-red velvet lining.

  It was a gun.

  So shiny, she could almost make out her startled face in it.

  She gasped. She knew what guns were, what they could do. What she didn’t know was why her Papa would give her one. She raised her confused eyes to him. That look, that not very nice Papa look, had become even more vivid, more severe. She trembled.

  “Take it out, Carino. Hold it, then tell me what you feel.”

  The girl obliged, carefully removing it. She was amazed at how heavy it was. It needed both of her hands to hold it. “It feels heavy, Papa.”

  “And what else?”

  What else was there? What else was she to feel? Except frightened of it. But she didn’t think her Papa would like that answer. The girl forced a cheerful smile and an equally cheerful response. “It feels wonderful.” She hoped that her answer would please him.

  It didn’t.

  “Do you not feel its strength, its might?” He ran his large hand over the weapon as if patting a much-loved pet. “Its… beauty?”

  “Yes, Papa,” she lied. “I can.” She placed the weighty object in her lap and began to stroke it also, just as her Papa had done. She didn’t want to upset him any further.

  Her father sighed, delighted by her more sanguine reaction and then drew her close to him. The alluring comfort of his strong arm and the vague familiar smells of pine trees reminded her of her old Papa, the one she loved, the one she wished a thousand times a day would return.

  So he could love her back.

  Like he used to.

  “Your Papa is sick, little one,” she remembered a sad Alice explaining to her.

  “Will he ever get better?” she had asked.

  “He will. He just needs more time; the doctors need more time.”

  How the girl wanted to believe Alice, so very, very much.

  “In the meantime, keep him happy, do what he wants and before you know it he will be better.”

  And so she did.

  As she was doing now. If lying about the gun would make her loving Papa come back, then she would gladly oblige.

  “I will teach you how to use it, Carino,” he said with more seriousness.