by Chris Harris
The
UK Dark Series
UKD 3
Chris Harris
COPYRIGHT
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. Any names, characters, incidents and locations portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. No affiliation is implied or intended to any organisation or recognisable body mentioned within.
Copyright © DHP Publishing 2017
Chris Harris asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive and non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen or hard copy.
No part of the text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered or stored in or introduced into any information storage or retrieval system, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, known or otherwise yet invented, without the express permission of DHP Publishing Ltd.
www.dhppublishing.co.uk
CHAPTER ONE
Shadowy figures in black and white. Whiteness all around me. Screams from Becky? Cold, cold snow on my face, then nothing …
Slowly, bit by bit, the nightmare receded and relief flooded through me. Just a dream, I told myself. All just a bad dream.
I began to wake up.
As my senses returned to me, everything swam back into focus.
I was lying in my own bed.
Confusion took hold. Why was I here? And more importantly, why did my head feel as if it had gone ten rounds with Frank Bruno? I closed my eyes against the slicing pain and drifted off again.
Seconds (or hours?) later I started to come round again. “What’s going on?” I croaked. Why was my throat so dry? The last thing I remembered was – “Oh my God! Becky!!!”
My eyes shot open as the memories came flooding back and panic seized me. Almost immediately, I heard a familiar voice.
“It’s OK, darling. I’m here; we’re all here. We’re all safe. Just lie still now. Jerry’s on his way.”
“Becky, is that you?” My throat was so hoarse I had trouble speaking. “What happened? The last thing I remember is you …”
I broke off and the tears came. I remembered how desperate I’d been, fighting to get through the snow, as I watched that bastard hit my wife and bundle her into the back of the armoured car.
“He shot me as I was trying to reach you, didn’t he? I’m sorry Becky. I tried to get to you. I let you down. I should have been there to protect you.” The tears came thick and fast.
Shaking her head gently, Becky took my hand in hers, “Tom, it’s fine, honestly. We’ll tell you everything that’s happened soon, but the important thing is we’re all OK. You did your best and what happened was my fault, not yours ...”
She was interrupted by Stanley and Daisy bursting into the room, closely followed by a smiling Jerry.
At the sight of me, they stopped in their tracks and hung back, not sure if it was OK to approach the bed.
“Come here, you pair,” I croaked again. My throat still felt raw and dry and I coughed a little. I desperately needed a drink, just to soothe it.
Reassured, they both rushed forward. As I moved my head, I realised with a shock that it was swathed in bandages. I hugged them both with one arm and using my free hand, touched my head tentatively.
“Tom, don’t fiddle,” Jerry said gently.
A few minutes later, Becky ushered the kids out of the room, telling them that Daddy needed some rest.
With Jerry’s help, I managed to sit upright. Becky handed me a glass of water and I sipped it gratefully, my throat immediately feeling better.
Jerry watched me carefully for a moment or two.
“We were a bit worried about you for a while, Tom.”
“Why?” I asked. “How long have I been here?”
“Five days!” I exclaimed, when he told me.
Jerry nodded, “Becky hasn’t left your side since we got her back four days ago. She refused to go anywhere.”
I looked at Becky properly for the first time. She looked an absolute wreck. She had two black eyes, which were beginning to fade, and her hair was in disarray. And although freshly laundered clothes were a thing of the past now, it was clear that she’d been wearing the same things for some days.
Cold fury hit me.
“I hope they got the bastard who did that to you.”
“Yes,” said Becky calmly, “but don’t worry about that for the moment; you’re back with us now and that’s the main thing. Let Jerry check you over and then we’ll bring you up to date.”
Jerry lost no time in examining me. With the limited equipment he had available to him, it was a very “low-tech” process.
He checked my eyesight and focus, reflexes and memory, and after some general prodding and poking, announced that I should be OK, but I was lucky to be alive.
Unwrapping the bandages that were covering my head, he proceeded to explain my injuries to me.
“You’ve been shot in the only place they couldn’t hurt you too badly,” he said, smiling, “in the head!”
Now that the bandages had been removed, he held up a mirror. I had a wound dressing on the right-hand side of my forehead. Asking me to hold the mirror, he carefully peeled off the dressing.
I had a livid gash running from my forehead to below my ear. My hair had been shaved. It was an ugly, deep wound.
“No bloody wonder my head hurts!” I said.
Jerry grinned and shook his head, “If the lottery was still running, I’d tell you to go and buy a ticket. Less than a quarter of an inch to the right and you wouldn’t be here now.
The bullet grazed your skull and went as deep as it could, without actually touching anything vital. You’ve been unconscious since it happened, so all we could do was hope and pray that you’d come back to us once your brain had sorted itself out, after being rattled a bit by the bullet.”
Still looking at myself, I said, “You put it so well.”
Jerry turned serious, “If you’d remained unconscious any longer, we were planning to transfer you back to the base, where they could run more tests on you to try to work out the extent of the damage to your brain. But you began to move slightly yesterday and respond to our voices, so we knew you were coming back to us. We removed the tubes that were giving you fluids and medicines this morning to prevent you from doing any further damage to yourself.”
I shifted restlessly, “Can I get up yet?”
“No, Tom,” he smiled, “let’s leave that till tomorrow. You may feel all right while you’re lying down but trust me, you’re not back to your old self yet. If you get up, fall over and bang your head, we’ll most likely be back to square one. One more day in bed won’t do you any harm.”
I pulled a face but in fact had no trouble drifting off to sleep again.
The next time I woke I could see light streaming through a gap in the curtains. Looking round, I saw Becky slumped asleep in a chair in the corner of the room. She was still wearing the same clothes and obviously hadn’t left me. How long had I been out for this time?
I felt much better. My head still hurt like crazy but I felt more with it. I looked over at Becky. In spite of her weariness, she looked beautiful to me. Her soft brown hair, much longer now that visits to the hairdressers were a thing of the past, covered half her face, making her bruises less visible. As if sensing my scrutiny, she opened her eyes, raised her head and smiled at me. I smiled back.
I was reminded that she always seemed to know when the children were about to stir, and would wake up just before them.
Hearing a quiet snore, I looked over the side of the bed. Stanley and Daisy were fast asleep under the same duvet on a mattress o
n the floor.
“They both wanted to be here when you woke up.”
“How long have I been asleep?”
“All night again,” she said, stretching and yawning. “Jerry says it’s a good sign. Your body’s healing itself, so sleep is good.”
“I do feel a lot better now,” I admitted. “I felt a bit fuzzy and discombobulated yesterday. Now it’s just my head that hurts.”
We were speaking in whispers so as not to wake the kids. Becky got up from her chair, lay down next to me on the bed, and we waited for them to wake up.
An hour later, with Becky and Stanley supporting me as my legs still felt unsteady, we all walked downstairs.
As I entered the kitchen, to my utter embarrassment, everyone crowded round me clapping and cheering.
CHAPTER TWO
Touched by everyone’s genuine show of affection and concern for me, I motioned for them to be quiet, sat down gratefully on the proffered chair and accepted a cup of coffee from my sister, Jane. She gave me a fierce hug and a kiss on the cheek as she handed it to me.
Realising that I was absolutely starving, and completely ignoring Jerry’s advice about not eating too much, I proceeded to wolf down everything that was put in front of me.
Becky had already told me not to ask how she, Michelle and Kim had come to be rescued. She’d assured me that they’d all been rescued safely, but had insisted that it would be best if everyone involved was present when the story was told. The wait would be worth it. I managed to restrain myself and kept the conversation to “road business”.
The house began to feel crowded as more people arrived. As Harry entered, he made straight for Kim and gave her a kiss on both cheeks before turning to me and shaking my hand.
“Glad you’re OK, Tom”, he said, and I was touched by his sincerity. “You had us worried there! Your family’s putting the military to shame. First your wife who, by the way, commands more respect among the men than any beaten up old sergeant, and now you! Single-handedly leaping barricades, rescuing my men under fire and then leading the charge against the enemy …”
Pausing for breath, he added, “Can you stop it, please, you’re making us look bad.”
I laughed. “Thanks Harry. But I did get shot, you know!”
He shrugged and grinned, “Occupational hazard when you run blindly at the enemy with nothing more than a strongly worded letter, I’m afraid. I never said it was the smartest thing to do; just the bravest.”
“Well, with the greatest respect,” I countered, “I was trying to rescue my wife and therefore, being brave didn’t really come into it. Someone was hurting her and I just wanted to rip their heads off.”
He glanced over at Kim and said quietly, “There’s no greater deed than rescuing the one you love.”
Looking up at the same moment, Kim must have heard at least part of what he said, because she blushed, smiled at him and then looked away again.
What had I missed in the five days I’d been unconscious?
Allan, accompanied by Michelle, Bob, Russ and his wife Jo, closely followed by Chris Garland and Pete (brandishing his notepad as always), now squeezed into the kitchen, which was threatening to burst at the seams.
Pete assumed control by raising his fingers to his mouth and emitting a shrill whistle.
“Can we all quieten down for a moment please!” He paused, waiting for the volume to lower, before resuming.
“If everyone could go and start their tasks for the day, please. Poor Tom here needs a moment with a few of us, because I believe he’ll need to be brought up to speed on what’s recently happened.”
The room slowly emptied, as most of the adults went out to start work, and the children, somewhat more reluctantly, all trooped down the road to report for their morning lessons with Mary and Mandy.
Unable to contain myself any longer, I burst out, “Can someone please just tell me what the hell happened? It’s killing me! Just bloody tell me, please!”
Becky squeezed my hand in an attempt to calm me down.
Harry looked round at us all and began.
“Shall I start? If anyone wants to join in, then please, feel free to butt in.”
This was his story.
He’d been stationed at the other barricade when the first shots were fired. Following the agreed protocol, he’d stayed at his post and made sure that everyone was on full alert and ready for action. After a few minutes, having satisfied himself that his station was secure now that more residents had arrived to reinforce the defenders, and aware that gunfire was still erupting from the direction of the other barricade, he’d made his way over there.
The place was in chaos.
Nobody appeared to have any idea what was happening except that the gunfire had now ceased. Most people were crouching behind the barricades, trying to make sense of the situation, while the rest were furiously trying to administer first aid to Dave and the soldier. It soon became clear that they were beyond help.
Reports of the sound of a vehicle engine and shouting from further up the road, only served to increase the confusion.
Eventually, after a shouted exchange to establish that the two soldiers who could be seen sheltering behind the wall were friendly, and therefore safe to approach, Harry, Allan and Russ made their way up to them.
The soldiers quickly pointed out where I was lying and Jerry was sent for. Once he’d ascertained that I was still alive, he sent for help and I was hastily carried back for urgent treatment. In the meantime, the two soldiers quickly explained what had happened.
Once everyone had recovered from the shock of the attackers coming from among us, the planning began. Contact was made with Captain Berry, but this placed him in a difficult position. All his men were occupied in forming a cordon around the farmhouse, and he was worried that that any sudden activity might prematurely announce their presence, putting more lives in danger. However, realising the urgency of our situation, he quickly promised to dispatch any troops he could safely extricate from their current positions, back to us. Despite this, from our point of view it would still be several hours before they got to us. As Harry had been left with just five soldiers, one of whom was injured and another of whom was dead, we were more or less on our own.
As things stood, one of the members of our small community had been killed and three others had been taken. They had to get them back, but the kidnappers had taken the last vehicle. The only other vehicles available were the lorries, which would be next to useless in such deep snow.
The tracks made by the fleeing vehicle had left a clear trail, but on foot a rescue party would stand no chance. It was only when Jerry (who had arrived to give everyone an update on my condition) reminded everyone that I had a Land Rover sitting in my garage, that the plan began to take shape.
Russ and one of the soldiers with mechanical experience immediately left to check it out. Shortly afterwards, they returned and confirmed that they’d found the parts I’d removed to disable it, and that it would take them about thirty minutes to re-attach them and get the vehicle started. This was better news.
The rescue party was hastily assembled, consisting of Harry, Allan, Chris and two of the remaining soldiers.
At the mention of Chris, I stopped Harry and said, “But Chris, your ankle? You didn’t have to do that. Someone else could have gone.”
Chris grinned wryly, “Yes I know that. And trust me, there was no shortage of volunteers, but let’s face it, my knowledge of tracking and hunting’s a useful skill. They still weren’t happy about taking me, so I really had to apply the pressure to get them to agree. In the end, I laid it on a bit heavy about how I was single etc. so if something went wrong, then most of the others would be leaving behind widows and children, and I wouldn’t.”
Pete clapped him on the back. “He can be very persuasive when he wants to be!”
I nodded at Chris, and Harry continued.
Once the Land Rover was in working order and fully fuelled, with a few extra j
errycans of fuel strapped to the roof rack, the five heavily armed rescuers set off.
Back at the base, Colonel Moore had now been appraised of the situation, and had given orders for the drone that had been monitoring Captain Berry and his men to be redeployed to help our party find its quarry.
As the Land Rover followed the tracks in the snow, which showed up clearly in the bright moonlight, constant three-way radio communication was maintained between the car, the base and the road. Everyone’s attention had shifted from the attack at the farmhouse to the rescue attempt.
Inside the car, the mood was tense. The fact that Kim and Michelle had been taken must have been hard on Harry and Allan. I remembered my own furious struggle to get to Becky, and realised that it must have taken all their self-control not to drive as fast as possible to get to them. Instead, the party pressed on steadily. A tactical and cautious approach was needed now.
The bright moonlight reflecting off the white blanket of snow made it unnecessary to use the headlights on the car. The rescue party moved on.
After three agonisingly frustrating hours, the UAV operator reported that she’d picked up a heat signal from a vehicle ahead.
It had to be them.
After following the UAV operator’s directions until they got there, everyone stepped from the Land Rover and cautiously approached the armoured car, weapons at the ready.
It was lying empty and abandoned in a ditch. Somehow the driver had managed to make a mistake, and had driven it straight into a deep ditch that ran parallel to the road.
In spite of the vehicle’s four-wheel drive system and heavy duty off-road tyres, it had proved impossible to get it out of the ditch. The quagmire of snow and mud around the vehicle, churned up by spinning tyres, was a testament to their frantic efforts to do so.
Footprints and drag marks led away across the fields. The armoured car’s engine was cool now so it had been there for a while, but Chris was reassuring. Even with a head start of several hours, it wouldn’t be possible for them to travel far in such conditions, especially if the women were not being cooperative. And yet the UAV, with all its high-tech equipment, could find no trace of them.