A Ripple in Time

by Julia Hughes

  Don’t be scared. Don’t be scared. She told herself. She found a vision of Rhyllann and unconsciously her head went up and her stride lengthened.

  Bletchey Park was a country manor squatting in its own grounds. They were moving towards a sunken garden, two stone benches at one end separated by a central path. A soft breeze stirred Carrie’s hair and she shivered in the early morning chill, wishing she’d asked for a tracksuit top. In the middle of the sunken garden, the path encircled a cherub balancing on a slender fluted column, then continued up to a flight of shallow white steps. A clipped box hedge obscured her view, but the path seemed to continue through a gap. To her right, she caught sight of low wooden barn like buildings, flat roofed, in a row of five. She definitely shouldn’t run in that direction. They were walking away from the house; she sneaked a glance to her left. A gravel car park. Which meant a road. Would that be her best chance? There could be no hesitation once she made her move.

  They were cutting across the lawn now. Early morning dew soaked through her canvass trainers chilling her feet. She shivered again then told herself to stop. Anyone watching might think she was nervous. A bank of pale pinks and golds stretched across one corner of the sky. East. That must be east. Had the sun been setting when they brought her here? She couldn’t remember, it seemed so long ago. They’d skirted the area of sunken garden, and were almost at the box hedge now: Another square lay behind it; broad leafed hedges to three sides, with an old wall built of small red bricks at the far side. The bricks glowed in the first rays of the sun.

  The minders halted, turning to face Carrie and towards the house. One whipped out a pair of sunglasses. Ignoring them, Carrie continued walking to the wall. She ran her hands over it experimentally, examining the biscuit like texture of hand made bricks, noting the crumbling concrete. There was a road on the other side, she was certain of it. She tipped back her head, tree tops festooned with spring lime green leaves towered above the wall. But no branches overhung. The trees had to be at least twelve feet away. A wide enough gap for a road. Carrie slouched against the wall as though bored, trying to keep her breathing under control and her mind focused. Cupping her hands to her mouth she huffed over them, wishing it were warmer.

  From the corner of her eye, she noticed her bodyguards stiffen. Following their gaze, Carrie watched with interest as a flat wooden hand cart rumbled towards her halting in front of the minders. Men dressed in protective suits opened the lid of a steel trunk resting on top of the cart. Carrie sauntered over. One of the minders placed a meaty hand on her arm.

  ‘Wait,’ he commanded. Carrie looked down at his hand, staring until he released his grip.

  Tension built inside her, she felt a tremor in her thigh muscle threaten and she shifted her weight causally, wanting to sit down but the grass still glistened damply. Instead she stepped forward and peered into the box. This time the minder didn’t try to stop her.

  A voice called out. Father Andrew hurried past the sunken garden, arms waving as he ran. Behind him a posse of six orderlies in whites struggled to keep up as they continued to lug chairs and tables.

  ‘Don’t let her touch it! Stop her you fools!’ He tripped as he ran, sending a couple of orderlies tumbling with him, juggling awkwardly with the chairs they still clutched. Suddenly everything speeded up.

  Ducking under her minder’s arm, Carrie darted to the other side of the wagon and grasped Caliburn’s hilt. Without pausing to wonder at the light zapping through it, she pushed the energy up and away from her and with a flourish swept out a semi circle of light towards the brick wall, pushing it out with her mind. Glorying in the sensation. The wall erupted into smithereens, like a hail of bullets an avalanche of bricks; dust and mortar hurtled against trees and asphalt, and oh dear lord! There was a road leading away from this place. A collective shout went up from the men, now time seemed to slow as Carrie’s heart raced with adrenaline.

  One minder laid face down, arms wrapped protectively around his head, squirming away from her. The other raised slowly from a half crouch, his arm outstretched to ward her off, a figure bathed in light holding a rod of fire reflected in his dark glasses.

  Carrie waved, motioning him to get out the way. Sparks followed her arm and the man backed off five paces before turning to run.

  Caliburn sizzled, sending a few exploratory tingles up Carrie’s arm. No. Enough now, she soothed, stroking the energy smoothing it back along the blade, laughing at how easy this was. Brick dust hung in the air coating her with fine powder as she stepped towards the escape hole she’d made. No one could stop her now. With a lightness in her heart she turned to step over the ruined brick wall into freedom.

  ‘Stop right there! You silly little girl. I said STOP!’

  Carrie’s lip lifted in a snarl as she spun round. Caliburn shimmered with excitement, hopeful for new action. Even from this distance she could see it was the Blonde, who seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of black suited minders. Too late sister! Caliburn let go another hopeful flare like an overexcited colt catching sight of the gallops. Rein in or allow Caliburn its head? In that split second the sunken garden’s cherub flew into the air, raining down in a thousand ceramic pieces tinkling onto the path, clumping against the lawn.

  Carrie advanced, noticing black suited men and white uniformed orderlies shrinking away from her and it felt good, so good.

  The Blonde bitch deserved what was coming to her.

  One of the black suits heaved something the size of a child onto one of the benches, holding it tightly. As Carrie’s step faltered a warning shot from Caliburn ran up her arm, her blood seemed to thicken in her veins. The other man dragged at a mop of hair and Carrie realised it was Gran. They had Gran!

  She dropped Caliburn seconds before neon blue exploded through it and ran crying to the hunched figure propped upright on the bench. A burly shape flew in from the right, level with the benches to intercept her. Laughter filled her ears.

  ‘Oh this is precious. Did you really think …’

  Jeff Holden slugged with all his might cutting the Blonde off mid-gloat, sending her sprawling to the ground with a dull thud. For a split second the scene was frozen, bodyguards staring with slack jaws. Before they could spring into action Jeff yelled.

  ‘Run maid run! It’s not your Gran! Run – ohhfff!’

  He doubled up in pain from a punch to the stomach, followed by a hand mashing across the back of his neck, crumpling him to the floor. Carrie froze mid sprint – despair washing through her. Whirling she dashed back, only to find a semi circle of bodies between her and Caliburn.

  Like a crazy game of Bulldog, Carrie took a pace to one side, before dodging to the other, head down, hunting for the weakest spot to break through, hating the leering faces of the men duck walking towards her, arms outstretched, ready to spring a human trap. Without looking back she knew the Blonde and her bodyguards were behind her, or would be very soon. Sobbing loudly, with a scream of desperation, Carrie rushed at Father Andrew, her fingers outstretched like claws. He grasped her hands rubbing spitefully at her injured skin, twisting them behind her. She jostled and writhed, trying to throw him off.

  ‘Don’t make this any harder. You’re in enough trouble.’

  Carrie twisted in his arms until she faced towards the sunken garden, she needed to see what was happening. The Blonde still lay on the ground surrounded by a huddle of people fussing around her. Carrie hoped she was dead, but doubted it. She closed her eyes. If she hadn’t panicked she might have just have outran this lot, she might just have made it.

  She slumped against Father Andrew’s hateful soft body. Soft, unloved and unfit. She rolled her eyes, groaned loudly and went limp. The moment he lowered her to the floor Carrie yanked his trouser leg material up, pulling her mouth wide open she sank her teeth in and chomped down hard into his hairless calf.

  ‘Get her off – get her off get her off!’

  Father Andrew kicked out with his other leg and tumbled forward. Carrie squirreled awa
y on all fours, still sobbing, and somehow managed to spring forward and head butt one of her minders in the groin. Throwing her fists wildly she started into a sprint. Wheeling in a half circle, slowing tantalisingly, before speeding up to leave them strung out behind her as she raced back to the wall. Alerted by shouts and movement the Blonde’s bodyguards were racing to the car-park. Carrie was still yards away from the wall’s gaping hole which didn’t seem to be getting any closer, Carrie’s breath escaped her lungs in harsh gasps, blocking out all other sounds. Broken bricks and debris littered the ground, even when she reached the lane she’d have to run like the wind, find somewhere to hide because it would take them seconds to whiz along the lane in their cars. Her foot slithered against a half buried brick and her ankle turned painfully, nerves screaming when she put it to the ground. She clutched at her side, faltering to an ungainly skip. She’d lost her one chance! She’d never manage to escape unless she could get to Caliburn and threaten her way out. But that moment was gone. Captors and Caliburn had seen through her bluffing.

  And now it was too late. Appearing from nowhere a man paced over to where Caliburn still writhed with blue neon, and swept it upwards. Unable to stop her momentum Carrie crashed into him. Grasping her firmly by the hair he held her upright when she would have collapsed. With tears blinding her, Carrie slapped at him, screaming wordlessly into his face. Letting go of her hair to catch both wrists with one hand, he dragged her arms down, at the same time shoving her behind his back.

  ‘Stop it you madwoman.’

  Pushing heavy dark hair from his forehead, raising Caliburn aloft Rhyllann stepped forward, an unholy joy in his face. Bright blue light erupted, growing, spreading outwards, washing out all other colour, sending up a high pitched keening. Carrie twisted away screwing her eyes up tightly, and burying her face into the back of Rhyllann’s soft leather jacket. But she couldn’t shut out the screams, or the bright lightning flash which burned even against closed eyelids, leaving an imprint on her retinas. A gale force wind knocked her to the ground, and the earth shuddered beneath her.

  When she opened her eyes it seemed hours had passed instead of seconds. White and black rags littering the ground stirred in the early morning breeze, the last of the pinks and golds narrowed to strands, fading as the sun finally cleared the horizon. Birdsong filled the air along with the sweet choking stench of burnt flesh.

  With a cry Carrie staggered on all fours towards one of the bundles prostrate on the ground. His face hung flaccid and bloodless, sunglasses skewed across his forehead. A terrifying gurgle issued from his ruined throat: Carrie’s mind urged her to do something, anything – but this poor man was beyond her schoolgirl first aid. She was still trying to find words to reassure when hands grabbed her, pulling her up, shoving her towards the ruined wall.

  ‘We’re leaving.’ Rhyllann looked back as he spoke, eyes scanning the garden, searching for any potential danger. Satisfied there were none he strode ahead of her, one hand still encircling her wrist, paying no attention to her yelps as she tried to favour her sprained ankle.

  In the lane outside the green Stag waited, its engine idling. Sweeping Carrie up in his arms Rhyllann dumped her into the passenger’s seat with a woomph, before striding round to the driver’s side. Before he got in though he held Caliburn aloft, admiration shining in his face. Closing his eyes in rapture he brought the blade to his lips and held it there reverentially before laying it on the back seat, covering it with a tartan car rug. Catching Carrie watching him wide eyed he grinned.

  ‘Mine. Don’t touch.’ He warned only half teasingly.

  Carrie shuddered. Nothing, no-one would ever induce her to touch Caliburn again. Nothing.

  With a grinding roar the Stag sprung forward. Carrie fumbled at her seatbelt hurriedly buckling herself in. The small green machine hugged the road’s surface flying round bends at impossible speeds, racing from one puddle of dappled sunshine to the next. Closing her eyes against the tearing wind, teeth chattering with cold and terror Carrie concentrated on keeping her stomach’s contents down, her mind jittering as it tried to erase all memories of the destruction once again caused by Caliburn.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Stag ate up miles, but drank fuel and spluttered out of petrol just as they reached Wiltshire’s borders. They kept to minor roads bypassing towns, but even so the odd police car cruised past them. Grim faced, Rhyllann speculated out loud that the Blonde had gone off radar and overstepped her authority. There could be no other explanation for the lack of roadblocks or interest in the Stag and its occupants. Carrie didn’t want to think about this. She couldn’t think of anything but the pain spiralling from her ankle, and the fact that she’d abandoned Jeff Holden. Eventually, when the engine silenced Rhyllann coasted the car off road into undergrowth. From the glove box he pulled a folded map and compass, shoving them into a battered khaki knapsack. Tugging Caliburn free of the rug he tucked it into his wide black belt though he kept a hand on its hilt, caressing. He’d taken ten paces before realising Carrie wasn’t following.

  ‘Will you come on? It’ll be dark before we get there.’

  Keeping to the back roads, detouring around towns had cost them time: The sun hovered above the horizon, though it wouldn’t be dark for a couple of hours.

  Draping the tartan rug round her shoulders Carrie hobbled forward obediently, gritting her teeth against the pain shooting from her ankle.

  ‘Oh you have got to be kidding me!’ Rhyllann raised his face to the heavens, throwing out his arms beseechingly.

  ‘Why me? Why?’ He marched back to her frustration in every step. Without warning his face softened.

  ‘She’s only a kid. She can’t help it.’ He muttered. Carrie hit him, the rug flapping out behind her.

  ‘This is your fault – if you hadn’t been so rough – pulling me over all those bricks.’

  ‘Oh excuse me, saving your life. For a moment I thought you were gonna start giving the kiss of life to that goon!’

  Collapsing on pebbly ground Carrie screamed up at him: ‘If you’d listened in the first place, listened instead of … If you can’t see something with your eyes, hold it in your hands, it doesn’t exist. And if Rhyllann Jones doesn’t believe no one else better believe either. You have to be right all the time don’t you? And anyone who thinks different must be mad.’

  His eyes glittered, swooping so their faces were level, he hissed. ‘Don’t. Just don’t. If you’d seen what I’ve seen …’ He shuddered then his face closed up.

  ‘Unspeakable. I’ve seen unspeakable things.’

  And done unspeakable things. Yet somehow he’d managed to hold fire and stop the annihilation of three generations of one wretched family.

  ‘You’ve saved lives.’ Carrie offered, confused at the sudden pity she felt for him.

  He snorted, reaching down to pull her to her feet.

  ‘I didn’t back there did I?’

  But they deserved it. Didn’t they? While Carrie struggled with this thought, Rhyllann crouched, hoisting her childlike onto his back.

  ‘C’mon, no – don’t grab my neck like that – I can’t breathe. Urrrk.’ He pretended to stagger and Carrie giggled, knowing he was mugging for her, and began to lose some of her fear of him.

  Rhyllann sang as he marched, ditties that grew bawdier as the miles passed: ‘One black one, one white one, and one with a bit of shite on …’

  Carrie closed her eyes, she’d never been so uncomfortable bouncing against his back, the knapsack bouncing against her, trying not to brush against Caliburn, ankle and hands throbbing. Her mouth was dry her tummy rumbling and her bladder felt bloated.

  ‘ … I’ve seen it I’ve seen it, I’ve been in between it.’ Rhyllann crooned.

  She couldn’t stand anymore.

  ‘Rhyllann – Rhyllann – stop – stop! Let me down.’

  When he dipped his knees she staggered off awkwardly, looking for a tree or even a bush. There were none. The moors stretched unevenly away i
n every direction without even a lonely sheep to break the view of vast greenness.

  Rhyllann frowned ‘What?’ Then comprehension dawned.

  ‘Oh just go – I’ve seen it all before anyway.’

  But he walked a little way away before sitting down with his back to her. Carrie crouched miserably, shorts around her ankles, steam rising as the piddle seemed to go on forever.

  Hobbling back over, terribly conscious of the need to wash her hands she reminded herself Rhyllann was a soldier, used to roughing it.

  A little square of white was spread on the ground over the tartan rug. Caliburn lay next to it and Rhyllann was rooting around in his canvass knapsack. He smiled up at her.

  ‘Better?’ His eyes were ringed with tiredness and his face seemed older then she remembered. Rhyllann’s leather hip length jacket was rolled up neatly and squished into the empty knapsack. Heaped on the handkerchief were three sausages coated in congealed fat, a bag of crisps, the remains of a chocolate bar and a couple of tea-cakes. A bottle of watery orange squash completed the feast.

  ‘It was all I could find.’ He patted the ground, and she slumped down, deciding not to mention the iron shaped scorch mark on the rear of his short sleeved pale green shirt.

  Rhyllann divided the food evenly, cutting one sausage in half with the penknife attached to his key ring. Carrie wondered if the oversized metal ‘S’ was for Susie or Stag.

  Her musings were interrupted by Rhyllann speaking softly.

  ‘I remember nicking the bikes now. They had these panniers – you know saddle bags.’ He munched on a handful of crisps. ‘And Wren tormented me, pretending he only had marmite sandwiches in his when all the time he’d found these four whopping great pasties.’ He shoved half a sausage into his mouth and chewed mournfully.

  Carrie pushed her share of the food towards him.

  ‘I’m not that hungry.’ She lied. ‘They gave me a huge breakfast.’