“Eh, I don’t think you ever really want me here,” Griegs replied after he’d stood up and started coming over, “I just show up to make sure that you haven’t gone ahead and broadcast your location to the world.”
“And what makes you think I haven’t?” I joked as I poured Griegs’ cup of tea, “For all you know this could be some ambush to get you to let your guard down. Hell, this could be sleepy time.”
Griegs analysed the cup a moment, staring at it as if he was waiting for some kind of alien tentacle to come shooting out, then shrugged and picked it up, “Well, at least I’ll go down happy.”
We enjoyed our drinks in silence for a while, letting the sweet aromas play with our nostrils as we both burned our mouths several times and pretended we hadn’t.
I actually enjoyed it, the normalcy of it.
It didn’t feel like the leader of my protection detail had decided to make sure I hadn’t been compromised, it felt like a friend had come over to visit.
Problem there was that we didn’t actually have much to talk about as friends. We’d experienced a lot together, sure, but I sincerely doubted either of us had any interest in talking about what had happened in the warehouse, or any of the other events that had preceded that.
Wasn’t like we were going to start talking about LoT either. I can’t speak for Griegs, but I knew as the end of the year drew nearer I became more and more tense.
And that’s when a conversation hit me.
“What’re you guys gonna do when it all goes to shit?” I asked as if it were a completely acceptable question.
“What?” Griegs choked in response as his tea went down the wrong pipe.
“You don’t think everything’s gonna be all candy canes and fun, do you? People are gonna dig in like ticks, and I’m guessin’ you and yours are going to have to be the ones who have to get them out.”
Griegs went to say something, then stopped, started again, then stopped again.
I’d put him in a more difficult position than I’d intended to, but with it out there I’d become exceedingly curious.
“Well?” I prodded, to which Griegs let out a sigh and gave me a wholly disinterested look.
“There are protocols in place.” he said flatly as if he were talking to a reporter, “We will be doing our best to ensure everyone’s safety, as well as making sure that those who are affected are treated with respect.”
I wanted to demand more, jokingly of course, but the fact that he’d fed me the line that was clearly meant for the press when the question came up got the idea in my head that it was probably for the best if I just dropped the issue.
And then something interesting happened.
“You know what?” Griegs said boldly, “Screw it. When things get bad, and we know they’re gonna get bad, our orders are to forcibly displace those who refuse to leave.”
I furrowed my brow confusedly and tilted my head, “So, what? You’re gonna kick people’s doors in and drag them out into the street?”
“At first, yeah.” Griegs replied, “And then we’re going to go to phase two.”
“And what’s phase two?”
Griegs grew a sort of sardonic half-smile as he looked down at the tea swirling around in his cup and chuckled, “Really wish you had something stronger than tea…”
“Griegs, what’s phase two?” I asked, drawing his attention to me and allowing me to see the true look of defeat on his face.
“Phase two is what happens when the people of this great country of ours finally decide to snap,” Griegs let out almost painfully, “and we, the MPs, have to go to work on making sure order reigns supreme.”
“A totalitarian regime?” I scoffed, “Oh yeah, that’s gonna be just great. Isn’t it all a bit early to be talking about that sort of thing?”
“Early? Kylia, this stuff’s been in the works for months now. Granted, I only got let in on it after what happened with… Point is this isn’t some snap decision, and the reason it’s not is so that it doesn’t become one. You think civilians are bad when they start to panic? Just wait until the politicians start doing it.”
Something inside me wanted to go on and on about the strong British spirit, and how it was going to take a lot more than some mass exodus to send the whole place into chaos, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Hell, I’d been the one to bring up the fact that people weren’t going to take it lying down, and I was supposed to be surprised that others had not only already thought about it, but also had solutions?
I could have a pretty big head at times, but I’d never presume to be that clever.
“Guess there’s nothing left to do other than enjoy what little time of peace we have left then, eh?” I said as I raised my cup to Griegs’ in defeat.
“Guess not.” Griegs replied, tapping my cup with his as he did so, before taking a drink and letting out a sorrowful sigh, “I’m sorry, you’ve been doin’ so well, and I’ve just dropped all that crap on you.”
“Right? I vacuumed!” I joked in the hopes that it would steer us toward a less depressing line of conversation, “Look, things are gonna be okay, I’m sure of it.”
Griegs let out an amused huff at that and shook his head, “You don’t actually think that, do you?”
I hesitated, took a sip of my tea, and smiled, “Eh, fake it ‘til you make it, right?”
That was enough to make Griegs let out a proper chuckle, which quickly infected me, and soon led to us both having a good little laugh.
Have to admit, I was pretty proud of myself being able to bring a bit of joy back to the whole situation, but I quickly came to regret it after a heavy pounding started on the door.
“One of yours?” I asked as I put down my cup and started making my way over to the door.
“Unless Lily’s really gotten into punching things,” Griegs joked, “want me to get it?”
“Nah, I’ll be fine.”
As I said, I’d come to regret the sort of relaxed happiness I’d brought over us, mainly because it meant that I didn’t bother checking the door before opening it, let alone listening out for the high-pitched whine that seemed to fade in and out in the distance.
There was a woman at the door when I opened it, and boy did she seem angry, well, as angry as she could look with her face hidden by a balaclava.
She was wearing a jacket, jeans, and, oh yeah, some kind of suicide-bomber vest while waggling around what I guessed was the detonator.
I’d barely stumbled backwards five feet before hitting Griegs, who’d pulled out his gun in the time I’d been gone, where I froze in place.
If I’m being honest, I didn’t like my chances.
Kylia: Chapter 7
“Put the gun down or I’ll blow us all to Hell!” the woman roared through her balaclava, waving the detonator and holding her jacket open as she did so, “Come on, give me a reason, you soppy prick!”
Griegs was justifiably stuck, his pistol levelled with the woman’s head while he undoubtedly tried to calculate the possibility of him putting her down before she got the chance to push the little red button.
“Five seconds!”
“Fine!” Griegs growled in response, lifting his finger off the pistol’s trigger and raising his hands up beside his head, “Just… ugh, fine…”
The bomber, who looked about as scared of Griegs and his gun as I was of a bag of crisps, took a few steps forward and took the pistol, “Glad we could reach an understanding,” she said with a newly acquired calmness before grabbing me by the wrist and attempting to pull me along, “c’mon, you’re needed.”
Griegs wasn’t having that though, and before the woman could get me to move so much as a foot, he’d grabbed me by my other wrist, “You aren’t takin’ her anywhere.”
“Mate, time’s a bit of a factor ‘ere,” the woman replied with a seemingly growing sense of odd familiarity with Griegs, “so, if you wouldn’t min-”
“No, he’s right.” I snapped, tugging at the
wrist the bomber was holding and surprising even myself with my sudden chattiness, “I’m not going anywhere without Griegs.”
I wasn’t quite sure what had given me the confidence to stand up against her and make demands, maybe it was just that I’d become more attune to people’s wants, but I was glad I had.
“Ugh, fine,” the woman sighed reluctantly, “the soldier can come along too, but I ain’t messin’ around. Either of you make a move I don’t like and we go boom-boom, aight?”
Confused by her obvious inability to hurt me, I nodded and followed after her as she left the flat, then stopped as she ground to a halt in front of me, “Where’s your USB?” she asked, “Armelia, where is she?”
“Uh… in my Rig Room?” I replied confusedly, “Sh… should I go get it?”
The bomber, obviously irritated by my inability to read her mind when I’d gone into the room, sighed with obvious annoyance and let out an almost teenager-level “Uh, yeah.”
After a few seconds of confusion, I turned around and went to do as I was told with Griegs, who seemed equally as flabbergasted as I was about the whole thing.
“Why does she want your USB?” the unarmed MP asked as I pulled it out of the computer and slipped the lanyard over my head, “Have you got something else on there besides your character?”
I don’t know why, but I had to think on that for a second, before shaking my head, “No, not that I’ve put on there anyway.”
“C’mon!” the bomber called from the hallway, “We’re running out of time!”
There was some part of me that wanted to ask about what exactly we were running out of time with, but I figured that would all be revealed when it needed to be.
“Just stick to me,” Griegs whispered as we left the Rig Room, “I’ll look for a window as soon as I possibly can.”
I didn’t say anything for fear that the bomber would hear me, and instead opted to nod and walk out through the door where our apparent kidnapper was waiting with an unmistakable level of annoyance.
“Took you long enough,” she said snippily, “now, if you wouldn’t mind, keep up.”
I didn’t understand it, in her position I’d have just knocked my argumentative, slow arse out and dragged me down the stairs, and I doubted her UBR leaders were that concerned about my safety.
“What did you do to my men?” Griegs growled as we went down a floor where two MPs were on the ground clutching their heads.
“Nothing that’s going to leave any kind of permanent damage.” the woman assured us, “Don’t even for a second think about grabbing one of these fellows’ guns, again, bo-”
“Yes, yes, boom-boom.” I interrupted, cursing myself out for not thinking to grab one of the guns before she’d mentioned it, “I’m sure we both get the picture.”
The whole experience was weird, the sudden switch in the bomber’s personality, the fact that she wasn’t keeping much of an eye on us, and, perhaps the weirdest thing of all, no one appeared to be injured beyond the thing where they refused to let go of their heads.
Those UBR pricks didn’t seem like the type to leave any sort of authority alive, much less a bunch of armed MPs.
I decided to start doing my best to stop focusing on why what was happening didn’t make sense, figuring that I’d simply gone into a weird sort of dissociative panic state to cope with the fact that I was getting kidnapped.
Again.
That quickly fell apart though as I began thinking about whether or not I was actually being kidnapped.
There was one ‘attacker’ who I could’ve probably handled on my own if I weren’t worried about Griegs being caught in the blast radius, and I couldn’t actually recall a time when I’d been manhandled, with the obvious exception being when she’d grabbed my wrist, but even that was hardly what I’d call forceful.
Before I could finish connecting the dots on my own, we’d made it to my building’s open door where, to my grand surprise and confusion, a large bus sat parked up on the pavement.
“Have I won a holiday?” I joked as our ‘captor’ climbed up the bus steps and pulled off her balaclava, revealing a mess of unbrushed brown hair that had clearly been dyed at one point but had since faded.
“Mmhm,” she replied coolly without turning around as Griegs and I followed her lead, “we’re shipping you off to California, hope you packed a bag.”
“Would’ve if you’d…” I trailed off as I entered the bus and started looking around it, discovering that is was actually some kind of mobile communication hub.
There were computers everywhere, the windows were completely blacked out, and four people, not including Griegs and I, one of whom instantly caught my attention.
“Y-you…” I stuttered, “You’re… you’re supposed to be dead.”
Bishop half-smiled through his bushy beard and shrugged, “Sorry to disappoint.”
Suddenly there was a small pistol beside my head, aiming right at Bishop, “On the ground, now!” Griegs roared, seemingly ignoring the fact that everyone on the bus bar the bomber had an SMG slung over their shoulder or chest.
No one pulled arms on Griegs though, and Bishop, in a weird act of pseudo-defiance, raised his hands disinterestedly and turned his attention to the bomber, “Ferra, honey? A, why is he here? And B, why does he still have a gun?”
Ferra shrugged and went to work on one of the computers, “How was I supposed to know he’d be rockin’ an underwear gun?” she replied with even more dismissiveness than Bishop, “You told me to get the girl, so I got the girl. She wouldn’t have come without GI Jim to hold her precious little hand, so I brought him along too.”
“I said on the ground!” Griegs repeated, clearly irritated that no one on the bus seemed to be acknowledging his authority.
“I know what you said,” Bishop replied coldly, “it’s just that I’m not all that concerned. Ferra, the detonator?”
Griegs didn’t get a chance to react before Ferra had handed the detonator to Bishop who held his finger dangerously close over the button.
The tension in the bus was building to nigh, dare I say it, explosive levels, but no one other than Griegs and I seemed in the least bit concerned.
“Now, Paul,” Bishop said without taking his attention off Griegs and his gun, “be a good lad and get us out of here.”
“Sure thing, boss.” one of the blokes said before coming over and pushing his way past us, leaving Bishop to stand there with a single guard behind him, “Plan’s still a go?”
“I see no reason why not.” Bishop replied, annoying Griegs to the point where I could practically hear his finger starting to slowly squeeze against the trigger, “You goin’ to put that gun down or what?”
“Give me one reason why I should.” Griegs snarled back as the bus rumbled to life and we started moving.
“Because I have a bomb,” Bishop said, gesturing to Ferra, who gave us a wave without stopping whatever it was that she was doing, “and you have a small pistol. You’ll probably kill me, sure, but not before my thumb presses down on this here detonator and sets of Ferra’s questionable piece of fashion.”
Silence reigned for a time after that, aside from the steady thrum of the bus engine, of course, until, with a defeated sigh, Griegs put his gun on the floor and kicked it over to Bishop.
“Cheers,” the undeniably relieved Bishop said as he picked up the pistol, before turning to Ferra and giving her a tap on the shoulder, “mind giving our guests some refreshment?”
Ferra didn’t say anything, and instead pulled out a piece of her bomb and tossed it in my general direction.
I panicked and caught it mere inches from the ground and realised that the component was familiar in weight and shape.
“This is… This is a…”
I didn’t get a chance to finish my thought as Griegs was tossed one and his face instantly drooped, “Is this Dr Pepper?”
Bishop nodded before pulling one of the cans out of Ferra’s vest and cracking it, “You betcha, and t
he detonator?” he said after taking a quick drink and showing us the detonator, “That’s just a pen. What, you thought we’d actually bring a bomb in there?”
“It’s not all that unbelievable considering what you did to those MPs…” I muttered while turning the can over in my hands.
“The-oh, that?” Bishop laughed, “That was just a minor sonic blast through their comms, ain’t nothin’ that’ll cause them anything more than a nasty headache.”
I flinched involuntarily as Griegs cracked his can, “So I’m just s’posed to believe this is… what? Some kinda friendly get together?”
“You can believe whatever you want,” the other guy with Bishop said, finally relieving some of the uncomfortableness I’d been feeling with him, “you’ll probably still be dead by the end of the day.”
“Careful Larry,” Bishop warned before Griegs got the chance, “that sounds an awful lot like a threat, and somethin’ tells me that this guy ain’t the type who likes to be threatened.”
“You got that right.” Griegs scoffed before putting the can to his lips and taking a long drink.
“What am I doing here?” I asked, a slight crack in my voice causing me to swallow hard, “Are you guys kidnapping me, holding me for ransom, what?”
Bishop seemed somewhat offended by that accusation, but that quickly gave way to a more understanding look, “No, we need your help.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because we’re ending it today.” Ferra interjected, “And you’re the one who’s stuck with the task of executing the most important part of our little mission.”
My brow furrowed and I waited for a while for an explanation that wouldn’t come without prompting, “Which would be..?”
“We need you to go to Tarthirious,” Bishop replied, “we need you to expose the truth.”
Kylia: Chapter 8
Bishop explained the plan, which seemed simple enough, and finished with a somewhat depressed “Are you sure you’re ready?” to which I gave him an exceedingly unimpressed look.
Legends of Tarthirious: The Complete Collection Page 66