The Hurst Chronicles (Book 1): Hurst

by Robin Crumby

  “You there, yes you,” she jabbed her finger accusingly at Riley, her voice was shrill and contorted. She reminded Riley of the wicked witch in the Wizard of Oz all dressed in black. All she was missing was the hat and the long pointed nose. Right now, Riley wished she had a bucket of water to throw at her. She came to a halt right in front of Riley, breathing heavily.

  The Sister pointed at Riley again and bellowed instructions: “Seize them and take her into custody.”

  The squat guard grabbed Riley from behind, painfully forcing her arm behind her back before she had time to react. Mila jumped out of the backseat of the Land Rover and raced round to wrestle with the woman, ripping her hand from Riley’s arm, releasing the pressure momentarily. “Get your hands off her.” The guard pushed Mila out the way and twisted the arm back into a lock.

  “It’s alright Mila,” said Riley through clenched teeth. She stared back at the Sisters defiantly, ignoring the pain for a second. “Perhaps you’d be so good as to tell me what I’m being accused of?”

  “We have reason to believe that the fire was no accident.” She annunciated each syllable of the word ‘accident’ slowly and with particular emphasis.

  Riley’s mind was racing. Why would anyone have started the fire deliberately? For what possible reason? She suddenly thought of Joe and their escape. Could the two events be connected? But how? From the way the Sisters were behaving, they clearly had evidence that supported this conclusion. Although she had no idea how she was implicated in all this.

  “Considering you had all of us locked up when the fire broke out, I find it highly unlikely that you could think we had anything to do with it,” said Riley.

  “So it was purely coincidence that your friend escapes on the same night we have a fire to fight?” said the Sister dismissively. “Rather convenient wouldn’t you say? We only have your word that you were where you say you were when the alarm was raised. Did anyone see you? Can anyone corroborate your version of events?” She shook her head waiting for an answer. “I thought not.”

  Riley tried to wriggle her arm free of the guard’s grasp. She had terrible pins and needles, but the guard only twisted her arm tighter to stop her fidgeting. The Sister seemed to enjoy her discomfort and continued.

  “You could have smashed the garden window any time that night. There were no witnesses.”

  “Hold on a minute, you left us in there. Your guard locked the door. What else were we meant to do? Stay there and die of asphyxiation? Zed would have died too, had we not acted when we did. Anyway, why would anyone deliberately start a fire and be responsible for the murder of so many?”

  “Why indeed?” Sister Theodora let the question air for a few seconds. “We hold you and your party fully responsible. Those deaths are squarely on Hurst’s shoulders.”

  “That’s preposterous. So you’re staying that you have no other suspects? Are all the other residents accounted for?”

  Sister Theodora whipped her head round at Sister Mel. It seemed a reasonable question, but in her mind, there was only one plausible explanation. “You held the roll call this morning, Sister Immelda. Are all the residents accounted for?”

  Sister Mel hesitated. Suddenly she looked uncomfortable, a seed of doubt germinating rapidly in her mind. “All residents are accounted for, Sister. Except one.”

  Sister Theodora looked irritated by this new information and disappointed that no one had thought to mention this earlier. “And you waited until now to inform me of this? Well, go on Sister. Who is it?”

  “It’s one of the girls, Sister. Jean Farley. She’s been taking food to the prisoners every day. It’s possible…” She looked down at the ground, afraid of the consequences of what she was about to say. “It’s possible that she could have helped the men escape.”

  “Nonsense, why would she do such a thing? No, I refuse to believe that one of our own could…” her voice trailed off. “I have every confidence that it was the group from Hurst who are responsible for this outrage, not one of our own girls.”

  Riley shook her head. “You believe what you like, but I’m telling you, my group had nothing to do with this.”

  “I propose we take them all into custody until the truth can be determined.” She gestured for the two guards to tie their hands behind their backs, but Riley struggled and wriggled free. In one fluid movement, she pulled the concealed knife from her belt and held it threateningly in front of her. There was no way they were going quietly.

  Stella stepped forward and tried to intercede on behalf of the Hurst group placing her hand lightly on the guard’s shoulder. Sensing Stella’s approach, the guard swung round wildly with her elbow, striking Stella hard across the face. The blow left a red welt that took Stella’s breath away. She gasped in pain, as the guard stuttered an apology. Sister Mel rushed to her side to comfort her.

  A sharp wolf-whistle from behind them silenced the group and they turned as one to find Zed, index finger and thumb to his lips. In the other hand he was grasping a shotgun resting the barrel on his hip, pointing squarely at the nearest guard.

  “Let’s everyone settle down, shall we.”

  Zed had watched the arrival of the Sisterhood from inside the vehicle with a weary shake of the head and guessed what would happen next. He had retrieved the shotgun from its hiding place strapped under the front passenger seat, where he liked to keep it, in case of trouble.

  Using the Land Rover’s tailgate as a prop and a shield, he leant round, keeping both guards in his field of view. He was feeling a little shaky, sweat beading on his upper lip despite the cool ambient temperature. He was trying his damnedest to look like he meant business. Riley and Mila distanced themselves from the two guards, who were watching Zed carefully, acutely aware that he might lose his grip on the tailgate and topple over at any second.

  “You two. Lay down your weapons and back away. No-one needs to get hurt here,” said Zed, his voice thin but authoritative.

  Sister Theodora stared back at Zed, her eyebrows furrowed, motionless, like a gunslinger in a spaghetti Western. Sister Mel looked sideways at her imploringly.

  With a deep sigh of frustration, accepting she was outmanoeuvred, Sister Theodora reluctantly conceded defeat. She signalled for the guards to lay their rifles on the ground and take two steps backwards, re-joining the rest of the group huddled together.

  “Thank you,” continued Zed. “You did the right thing. Now listen up. You have our word that none of us had anything to do with the fire. Nothing. Anyone who believes otherwise is even crazier than I thought.”

  Zed adjusted his grip on the tailgate and nearly fell before grabbing hold again. Mila hurried over and slid her slender frame underneath his shoulder, supporting his weight, taking the gun from his shaking hand. She peered down the barrel menacingly and trained the sights on the two Sisters, who shifted uneasily. It was perhaps the first time in their lives a gun had been pointed at them.

  “What’s going to happen next is that we are all going to get in our car, drive right out of here and you’re not going to try to do anything to stop us. Are we clear?” asked Zed.

  There was silence.

  Zed repeated, inclining his head: “Are we clear?”

  “We are clear,” echoed Sister Theodora. “May God forgive you what you have done. All of you have blood on your hands. All of you.”

  “You can believe what you like. It doesn’t make it true,” said Riley defiantly.

  She climbed in the driver’s seat and inserted the key in the ignition, looking back at Zed and Mila in the rear view mirror, just standing there, showing no signs of moving. Mila let out a deep sigh, like she had been holding her breath all this time and lowered the shotgun towards the ground. Mila motioned towards Stella. “You coming or staying?”

  Stella was still nursing her cheek with her hand, where the guard had struck her, tears streaming down her face. She studied Adele and Riley’s imploring looks from inside the vehicle, forcing a smile. “Thanks, but I’m staying.”<
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  Sister Mel still had her arm round Stella’s shoulders and squeezed her tighter in a show of solidarity. Mila clambered in and slammed the rear passenger door closed, keeping the gun resting on the open window over the heads of the group. Riley started the engine, which coughed and spluttered into life, its exhaust rattling, wheezing a little before finding its rhythm. “Perhaps one of you would be good enough to get that truck out of the way,” shouted Riley over the noise of the engine.

  The guard hurried inside to find the keys to the truck hanging on a hook behind the front desk. As she walked down the driveway, the Land Rover kept pace, rolling a few yards behind her, back towards the front gate, two pillars with ornamental lions mounted either side.

  She clambered up in to the cab and with a plume of diesel smoke from its roof mounted exhaust, the truck roared into life. Inside they could see the guard fighting with the gear stick to get the lumbering beast into reverse, before lurching slowly backwards. She revved the engine impatiently, allowing just enough space for them to drive out and on to the main road beyond, before rolling back into place.

  Just before the gap closed behind them, in the rear view mirror, Riley glimpsed Stella’s lone arm raised in farewell, and then she was gone. Riley had a bad feeling it wasn’t the last time they would tangle with the Sisterhood.

  Chapter fifty-three

  It was only five miles to Hurst from the hotel, but the roads were virtually impassable, clogged with abandoned cars. The traffic backed up all the way from the roundabout on the edge of town along the coastal road they were attempting to navigate. They had no choice but to detour round obstacles, onto pavements, grass verges, through people’s front gardens, even smash through a garden fence. One time they managed to hook a children’s climbing frame, wrapping the ladder round their front grill and had to stop to dislodge it from jamming in the front wheel arch. They used any means they could to pass the blockages that littered the roadway.

  In a couple of places, they had to nudge other vehicles out of the way, or get out and push them by hand. Riley was growing desensitized to the sight of death. It was all around them. She thought nothing of pulling corpses from vehicles, of wrenching victim’s hands that still gripped steering wheels or heads resting against dashboards. She was no longer squeamish, or was it just fatigue. She reached over a body to release the hand brake and steer a two-seater sports car out of their way, as someone pushed from behind.

  After a couple of hours they caught their first glimpse of the sea. Milford beach stretched out to the east of them with the Needles rocks and island beyond.

  Riley was still troubled by what Stella’s friend had told her. She had been very clear. She had seen smoke rising from Hurst castle. However unlikely, that’s what she said. Why would she lie?

  Visible from that distance, it had to be more than just a campfire or burning rubbish. It sounded like a proper fire that had got completely out of control. She imagined the widespread panic, the plans and preparations they had made for exactly this eventuality. The buckets of sand they had carefully placed around the camp. They had stored fire hoses in the lighthouse for pumping water from the dock back into the castle. They were as prepared and they could be, so she was still wondering how a fire could have taken hold. Just thinking about fires, brought back memories of the previous night, putting her life on the line to save Zed. The pain in her hand was a living link. She cradled her left wrist, still bandaged, pinching the dressing to relieve the pressure on the watery blisters that were painful to the touch.

  They drove on through Milford village, each of them fearing the worst. Mila leaned forward in her seat, anticipation growing as they drew closer to home, her imagination running riot, giving voice to her fears. As they reached the end of the road and the last of the buildings at the far edge of town, they screeched to a halt.

  Ahead of them was a dirt track that hugged the start of the raised man-made sea defences and shingle spit. To their left was what remained of a caravan park. Half flooded and storm damaged. Ploughed fields lay beyond. In the corner of the field, sitting next to a broken wooden fence, a yellow tractor stood idle beneath a cluster of trees, abandoned.

  Riley engaged first gear and they continued on the last leg of their journey along the dirt track.

  There it was in the distance. Across the estuary and tidal waters, the castle was at least still standing. There was little sign of smoke now, everything looked fairly normal from this distance. Riley picked up the pace, pumping the accelerator and bumping over the many potholes, deep groves and dips, where the dirt track was waterlogged or had disintegrated altogether.

  They reached the end of the track and ascended the steep incline in low gear, slipping and sliding until they crested the top of the shingle and the vehicle levelled out again. The view was spectacular, looking out over Christchurch Bay, the island dazzling in the morning sun.

  Riley braked hard and scattered stones in front of the car. She could barely believe her eyes. She reached across Zed and fumbled in the glove compartment for the binoculars. It took a couple of seconds for her eyes to adjust and find what she was looking for. In the distance, far out to sea was a ship. It was definitely military, a navy frigate or destroyer, she couldn’t tell from this distance.

  “What is it Riley?” said Zed, peering into the distance, following the line of her binoculars at the grey shape on the horizon.

  “Got to be military. Definitely not a steamer or container ship,” confirmed Riley.

  “Is it one of ours?” asked Mila.

  “Hard to tell from this distance. It’s not big enough to be a cruise ship or container vessel, so probably a frigate or destroyer. And definitely heading this way.”

  Riley handed the binoculars to Zed. She shifted the Land Rover back into gear and accelerated hard, showering the underside of the car with pebbles and loose shingle. There was now an added urgency to get where they were going.

  Zed panned the binoculars towards Hurst and pointed out that there was no look out on the castle walls. That was unusual. Riley made a mental note to have strong words with whoever was on guard duty that morning. Where was everyone?

  The whole place looked deserted. The closer they got, the more worried they became that something terrible had happened in their absence. Riley cursed herself for being away too long.

  Rounding the western edge of the fortifications, they headed down the short slope going too fast. Riley jammed on the brakes and the car slid to a halt outside the main entrance to the castle. All four doors flew open as the group emerged alert and ready. In front of them was the blast hole in the drawbridge. They could see wisps of smoke caressing the leading edge of the stone walls, before being dissipated on the morning breeze.

  To the right of the entrance, high up on the old grey stone walls, mottled with black lichen, someone had spray-painted a tag in blood-red graffiti. Stylized letters a meter high spelled the word: ‘Hurts’.

  Mila had her hand over her mouth, slowly taking in the scorch marks from the explosion at the front entrance and trying to make sense of the graffiti. “Who would have done this?”

  Adele spelt out the letters aloud, one by one. “What does it mean, Zed?”

  “It means someone has a sick sense of humour.”

  Riley opened the tailgate and unloaded their weapons. She slid a pistol into her belt and rammed two shells into each barrel of the cocked shotgun.

  “Zed, you don’t think that the guys from the hospital had anything to do with this?”

  “It’s possible they came looking for us. I don’t know.” He stood scratching his beard, angling his head to the side.

  “Don’t take any chances, Riley.” He sniffed. “They could still be here. Mila and Riley, you two head inside and see what you can find out. Adele, you and me stay here and keep an eye on the car. Be careful yeah?”

  Riley clambered through the blast hole and tiptoed through the covered entrance, staying close to the wall, making no sound. It was eerily qu
iet inside. She closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. Mila was right behind her. Very slowly, they both peered round the corner to take a look at what lay beyond.

  Inside, bodies littered the courtyard. Mila gasped, her eyes flicking from one body to the next, before recognizing one of the faces furthest from her: “Oh no, please.”

  Riley heard voices close-by and froze, gesturing Mila back against the wall, weapons raised trembling in front of them.

  She listened carefully, straining to hear. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath recognising Tommy’s voice. She called out to him, warning the defenders that they were coming out and not to shoot. Nathan and Liz hurried out to meet them.

  “My God, where have you all been? We thought you were dead. We could have really done with you being here last night,” said Nathan, wide-eyed in disbelief.

  “What the hell happened here?” asked Riley.

  “We were attacked by a heavily armed group.”