Carved in Stone: Monochrome Destiny

by T L Blake

  It had all started with a simple match, but the furnishings had soon burned and the pyre now grew with every passing second.

  When flames burst through the roof and tongues of intense heat reaching for the sky, Robyn turned and ran. She was going to get Andrew.

  When she got to the cove, four cars littered the end of the lane and Robyn only recognised two of them; Andrew’s and hers. They were definitely here, somewhere.

  Using the vehicles for cover, she closed in on the cottage, her bare feet making no sound on the gravel. She should have been wincing in pain from the stones underfoot, but cold and hundreds of cuts and scrapes had made her feet numb. She didn’t want to think about the damage she’d done to them, running through town, steeling a bicycle and getting here as fast as she could. She only had one thing on her mind: Andrew.

  The house was in total darkness as Robyn leapt over the low front wall to crawl up to the front window and rest beneath it, out of sight. Her stomach throbbed, making her catch her breath as her abdomen reminded her of James’s less than caring hospitality.

  Keeping low, staying underneath the window, she made her way to the door. It was closed with no light escaping underneath to suggest that people were within, but Robyn knew that there might well be evil in this house, living, breathing, human, evil. James had Andrew, and Robyn intended to get him back. Just how she was going to achieve that she didn’t know, but she could think of little else.

  With a steady hand she tried the handle and found the door unlocked. It swung inwards.

  The hall was dark. She could make out the shadowy silhouette of the staircase rising in front of her, but details were elusive until her eyes adjusted.

  Creeping in silence, aware that even the slightest noise in the quiet would give her away, she entered the house. Walking heel to ball, she made her way to the lounge door to find it open. The interior was silent, the room empty, so she continued into the house to find the rest of the lower floor equally vacant. She was alone.

  Ascending the stairs, her heart pounding with every creek, she reached the top to find that clothes still littered the floor by the bathroom. It was a reminder of their last night there.

  Robyn stepped over the discarded apparel, and moved to the other doorways to check the small house for signs of life.

  She was in the back bedroom when she heard voices drifting up from outside. She scurried to the front of the house and peeked out the window.

  Three men walked towards the house from the headland. George was at the front, his bulk unmistakable even in the dark. The last time she’d seen him he had been carrying Andrew, chair and all, out of James’s house. David was next and James followed closely behind, his phone to his ear.

  “Well, bloody make them get there faster,” he barked. His tone was unsettled and clearly panicked. “I don’t care what you have to threaten them with, get them here this instant. Nothing could possibly be more important than saving that house.”

  The fire was clearly no longer a secret and a warm satisfaction flowed through Robyn’s veins as James ran to the large, black pick-up truck parked in front of the house and dived into the passenger seat.

  “Well, get bloody moving will you,” he yelled at George, who was driving.

  The doors slammed as the engine started.

  Robyn was so focussed on the three men leaving that she almost missed Jane running up the beach towards the other unfamiliar car.

  As the pick-up with its highly polished chrome trim gunned up the hill and out of sight, Jane got into the small white hatchback and followed.

  Robyn realised that with the four gone, this was her chance. Now she just had to get to Andrew.

  She ran for her shoes as it was clear from the direction the four had emerged, that they held Andrew at the crypt. The cave on the beach was the entrance and she knew that she needed her feet covered if she was to walk across that rocky cove. Whilst she was there, she grabbed her jeans then hurried downstairs and headed for the lounge.

  Robyn needed a weapon, something to use against Sanger, who was probably now alone with Andrew. She discounted a knife, due to the proximity that she would need to use it and instead went for the poker by the fireplace. The poker was long and had a barb on the end. It made a good weapon.

  As she stepped into the room, she could make out very little but she dared not turn on the light and make her presence known. Her only hope was to catch Sanger off guard. She stretched out her hands, in case she misjudged where she thought the furniture to be and made a hasty journey to the hearth. Halfway across the room she stepped in something oily and slipped. No amount of arm waving was going to save her from falling and as her feet slid forwards, her body fell back. Robyn braced for impact.

  She hit the floor hard, going down hip first onto her left side. Pain once again shot through her abdomen, buckling her up into a ball. She gasped and fought back tears and realised that whatever she had landed in was thick, wet and sticky. Panicked, Robyn tried to stand but she couldn’t find any grip. Whatever was spilled over the lounge floor had made a large puddle that she had to crawl through to get to the edge.

  As Robyn crawled determinedly to the hearth, her palm fell on a solid, warm, hairy skull.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  Foaming breaks crawled slowly up the beach as Robyn stood facing the entrance to the cave. Black against the grey rock, the cave held a flawless darkness that was both uninviting and intimidating.

  She dared not use a torch or other implement to light her way, for surprise was her only advantage. Instead, she held the poker firmly in one outstretched hand.

  Finding the dog, bleeding over the lounge floor, had made her want to run. It was so abhorrent to see an innocent animal mutilated like that, that she had wanted to get herself to safety and find help. But where could she go? So many people had entered the abattoir and so many faces had been obscured. The conspiracy was so widespread within the town that she didn’t dare trust anyone. Besides, the longer Sanger held Andrew, the more damage he could do.

  Robyn stepped into the dark.

  The uncompromising blackness shrouded her as she shuffled her feet, trying not to trip on any rocks. She trailed one hand along the wall to guide her and held the poker ready in the other. The air quickly changed from crisp sea breeze to stagnant musk.

  Walking further into the hillside, the background drone of the sea faded and Robyn heard the rasp of her own breath above all else. She prayed, as she walked up the light incline to the church, that no-one else could hear her.

  Even in the dark, Robyn could tell when the sand became flagstone beneath her feet and when rock walls turned to quarried stone. She slowed. She was getting close to the door. She took her last steps through the austere, timeless rock, as unyielding as it was ancient, and finally felt wood beneath her fingers.

  Robyn leaned forwards and pressed her ear to the door.

  There was movement on the other side, footsteps, and something grinding that she could not place. She heard no voices and prayed that she wasn’t too late, but there was definitely someone inside the crypt.

  Her heart stepped up and raced even faster. Sanger was beyond that door, Robyn knew it, but so was Andrew. So, even though her poker seemed woefully inadequate against the Taser, she carried on.

  Robyn slipped back down the tunnel and crouched to run her hands over the ground. She found what she was looking for and returned to the door.

  With tremors shaking her entire body, Robyn backed herself into the hinges of the door and then threw the boulder that she had picked up as far down the tunnel as she could. She raised the poker and waited.

  The rock hit the wall of the tunnel before bouncing onto the floor. The noise was a clamour in the silence and there was no way that Sanger wouldn’t hear it.

  Sure enough, the latch turned and the door opened, letting a gloomy glow leak into the tunnel.

  Robyn slunk back into the shadow of the opening door and watched the twin barrels of a shotgun thru
st out into the dark passageway. Her heart pounded as the door swung back against her and the shotgun moved further out. If Sanger realised that the door was not swinging fully open and that someone was secreted behind it, she was finished.

  Douglas Sanger stepped out of the crypt, shotgun to his shoulder, finger on the trigger, ready to fire. Robyn waited until he had stepped clear of the door and then simultaneously surged forwards, shouldered the door out of her way and, using all the strength she could find, swept the fire poker down to hit him squarely on the head.

  The poker sank into Sanger’s skull with a dull, sickening, thunk. His body went limp, the shotgun dropped to the floor and clattered away and Sanger nosedived to the ground.

  Stunned, Robyn waited, staring at the prone body on the ground in front of her. The dim glow from the partially open door fell across Sanger’s lifeless form, but she was not fool enough to assume that he was dead. Holding the poker up once more, ready to defend herself with another blow if necessary, she looked for signs of life.

  Seconds ticked by but Sanger didn’t move. Robyn used the sharp end of the poker to stab Sanger in the back of the leg. Even if he was faking his incapacity, she doubted that even the psychotic Doctor could have held a convincing bluff against that pain, but he didn’t move. He must be either dead or unconscious. Either way, he was no longer a threat.

  Was it wrong to feel elated that Sanger was possibly dead? Probably, but after all he’d done, she couldn’t find any remorse.

  Robyn ran into the crypt.

  Candles, thick and white, stood on the floor near the walls giving the room illumination, but they weren’t the only source of light. Two towers of electrical equipment showed an array of digital readouts that glowed against the darkness and from those towers various leads and tubes led down to the stone sarcophagus, where Andrew was strapped, face down. Robyn ran to him.

  He was covered by a surgical sheet. Only a large square on his lower back was exposed. Pen marks indicated the operation that was to take place. Thankfully, the procedure had not started yet and there appeared to be no wounds.

  “Andrew?”

  Robyn crouched by his head to find him masked and unconscious. No, not unconscious: anaesthetized.

  She looked up in panic to the monitors and could see he had both a healthy pulse and heart rate but she had no idea what most of the information meant. What she did know however, was that she had to get him out of there.

  Dropping her poker, Robyn unbuckled two leather straps that crossed over Andrews back. She then took off Velcro cuffs from both his hands and his feet. A tear slid from her eye as she imagined Kat strapped down here, helpless while Sanger raped and tortured her.

  When Andrew was free from the restraints Robyn breathed in deeply and hoped that she was doing the right thing. She pulled the cannula that fed Andrew from a drip bag out of his arm and she ripped off the leads that were placed elsewhere. The machines made a shrill noise. She didn’t know how to silence them so she sped up her rescue. She found one more cannula and removed it before taking off the mask.

  Robyn stilled, her fingers on Andrew’s pulse, and she heaved a huge sigh of relief as his pulse remained steady.

  Using all the strength that she could muster, Robyn held Andrew under his arms and dragged him off of the tomb, turning him over as his body fell to the floor. Wincing as pain seared through her stomach, she fell to the ground, Andrew in her arms. All around them the machines still let out their screams and Robyn felt the urgency of their situation. It wouldn’t take James long to work out that Robyn had started the blaze. He would know that she’d come straight here and he’d be back.

  Adrenaline and stubborn resolve gave Robyn the strength to drag Andrew from the room. He weighed so much, deadweight as he was, but she couldn’t leave him there and it was only a matter of time before the others returned. Inch by inch she dragged him from the chamber and into the long tunnel.

  Sanger’s body was still splayed where it had landed. Robyn couldn’t be certain that he was dead. There was always the possibility that he was merely unconscious. So she dragged Andrew around the prostrate doctor as quickly as she could. It occurred to her only fleetingly that she should pick up the shotgun, but there was no way she could carry it whilst dragging Andrew.

  As stone turned to sand, Robyn had to strain harder to shift Andrew’s dead weight over the ground. It was a long tunnel, too long. With each inch, her muscles shook from exertion and her stomach burned with pain. She had to rest a little between each tug and the next and all the while she kept listening for any indication that the others had returned. Would she have enough time to drop Andrew and run for the shotgun if she heard them? Could she leave Andrew vulnerable like that? Did she have any choice?

  She carried on like that, drag, rest, listen, drag, rest listen, for an age.

  An hour must have passed since Robyn had watched James and the others run up from the beach and she knew they’d be back at any moment, but there was still so much of the tunnel left to traverse. Robyn heaved Andrew again and caught her foot on the uneven ground. She fell back, Andrew’s head landing on her legs. She cried out and grabbed her stomach in pain. Andrew moaned.

  “Andrew?” Robyn leaned over and grabbed his face. “Andrew?”

  He moved his head, moaned again.

  “Oh, God, Andrew, come back to me.” She clung to him as she clung to life.

  A hand lifted and grabbed hers. “Robyn?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Andrew wake up, wake up, we’ve got to get out of here.”

  She could hear his legs move on the sandy ground. She could see nothing in the dark but she felt him slowly twist and roll over, testing his strength before his weight lifted off of her.

  “Help me, Robyn. I’m still groggy.”

  She wrapped his arm around her shoulders and together they stumbled out onto the beach; each step stronger, each step towards the house more purposeful.

  “I have to get the keys.”

  Robyn stopped and leaned on Andrew’s car. She had nothing left. “I’ll wait here.”

  Her head swam, she just needed rest.

  She was slunk down and sitting on the ground when Andrew returned.

  “Robyn?” He came to her side.

  “Just get me in the car.”

  They were nearly there, nearly.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  The engine roared as pistons pounded and the transmission spun. The car flew up the lane.

  In the mirror, Andrew’s house became smaller and smaller and with a bend it disappeared from view entirely.

  Andrew was dressed, she noticed. He must have thrown the shirt and jeans on when he went to get the keys. He now sat in the driving seat concentrating on the road.

  They hurtled up the road as Andrew pushed the Audi to its limit. They weren’t free. They weren’t safe. Not yet. Fear was painted all over Andrew’s body. He would not relax until they were out of Porthmollek.

  Climbing the lane to the main road, they surged through a tunnel of trees. Robyn knew these woods. She knew the species that lived together to make the ever changing forest that surrounded the town. She also knew that they didn’t live as harmoniously as they appeared to. No, each species fought for the same resources that the others needed, wanted. The trees grew tall to claim the light, and they grew wide and deep roots to claim the water. The animals fought over food and resources to build their nests.

  The people of Porthmollek were the same. They fought for resources, killed for them, but they didn’t understand the difference. Nature was a rough and wild thing because it couldn’t see reason, it couldn’t compromise or share. People were supposed to be on a higher level, they were supposed to feel and empathise and understand. What James and his cronies had put into place, and what the town had allowed them to do, brought Porthmollek’s population back down to the level of animals. They had wiped thousands of years of evolution from their own species.

  Andrew swore, bringing Robyn’s drifting mind b
ack to reality. She saw one last glimpse of the array of trees before everything went dark and the car braked, hard.

  Robyn held out her hands, ready to brace, not understanding the reason for their sudden deceleration.

  “A car,” Andrew’s voice was a whisper, as if the noise would alert the other vehicle to their presence, “there’s another car coming this way.”

  Andrew shifted gears and the reverse lights lit up.

  “I hope they didn’t see us.” Andrew slung his arm over the back of Robyn’s chair, turned his head to face down the road, back the way they had come, and pushed the accelerator to the floor.

  Robyn grabbed the armrest and sat upright, rigid. It wasn’t a car crash that she feared: it was what lay ahead of them, what headed towards them on this small narrow lane that had seconds ago been their means of escape.

  Staring at the road ahead she saw an errant beam of light. It caught a tree in its path and swept down again. She sat forwards, straining to see. She noticed it again, further to the right. It illuminated the trees for longer, sweeping to the right and getting stronger before disappearing again.

  “They’re speeding up.” She whispered to Andrew as the headlights rounded another turn. She cursed herself for not picking up Sanger’s shotgun.

  “Damn!” Andrew swerved around a bend.

  “They’re going to see us any second.” Her words were shaky, panicked and she couldn’t calm them.

  “Hang on.” Andrew simultaneously turned to face front again and slammed on the brakes. The tyres slipped and skidded on loose gravel, the rear of the car lit up in a red glow and the car slid in a straight line. “Out, now!” He ordered.

  Pulling on the handle before the car had come to a complete stop, Robyn pushed open the door and unclipped her belt. The car had slowed but was still moving backwards and she hesitated.