by Jenn Lees
“When?” Rory stood, his tired posture gone, his slump replaced by tense muscles and an instant alertness.
“Late this afternoon. Bandits on horseback—”
“Give me that!” Rory snatched the CB handle from Geoff. “This is Rory Campbell. Who am I speaking to? Over.”
It’s George. Dinnae worry, Rory. All’s okay now. The Government Defence boys shot their large calibre machine gun and scared them off. Over.
“Anyone injured? Over.”
They lost three. We have some wounded. Nothing Christine couldn’t handle. A few bullet holes around the compound though. Nothing you need to come back for. Over.
“You sure? I could send some of us back. Over.”
“Who got injured?” Kendra and Callum had moved closer with George’s comments. Rory blinked as his mouth twitched in slight annoyance.
“Were Christine or Mandy injured? Over.”
No, they’re fine. Your mission is way more important. You keep your crew there. Just be aware there are especially bad people out there. Over.
“Aye. Keep safe then, George. Over and out.”
Kendra and Callum both stood back, tense shoulders easing and foreheads relaxing.
Rory handed the CB back and sat heavily on the log.
“Our local bandits are nae usually so bold. They must be the ones you thought you’d outrun.” His stare bore into Antony’s face.
Antony’s mouth became a thin line as he remained silent.
“Well?” Rory’s voice rose as his back straightened. His fists curled into a clench in his lap.
“Our guns scared them off. They probably won’t come back.” Siobhan spoke beside him.
Rory turned his glare onto her, his eyes narrow and jaw muscles tense. Her heart thudded as a cold feeling ran along her spine. His expression was sharp. She had glimpsed Rory the protector.
Angry Rory.
She hoped he would never direct it at her in its fullness.
Rory’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and his face relaxed slightly.
“Double the watch!” Rory said loudly, still holding her gaze. Siobhan flinched at his sudden volume. Callum left his side and spoke to those who would take turns at lookout.
“We’re miles from the Community. The bandits don’t know where we are.” Her voice was soft.
“It’s views such as that, which make people dead.” Rory stood and walked away.
Siobhan looked across the fire at Antony. Under a scowl, his eyes never left Rory’s back.
THE DARK OF NIGHT CAME so late this time of the year. Siobhan looked at the sky as she sat alone by the fire. The members of her team had left the campfire to tend to duties or retired for the night, but she couldn’t force herself to move. Her body had the dullness of fatigue, but there was more to her immobility. Stars peeped through the diminishing cloud now the rain had passed. Deep, deep-blue sky dotted with twinkling diamond stars and planets so clearly visible Siobhan reached out to touch them.
“Your arms are nae long enough.” The sound of Rory’s soft footsteps came behind her, his tone much more amicable than only an hour ago. He sat on the log beside her as she pulled her arm down from pointing at the stars.
“Forgive me for before, Rory. I wasn’t being flippant. I’m just...well, not as experienced as you.”
He flicked an eyebrow and pursed his lips tight. “Aye, well. You’re in the-big-bad-world now.”
Siobhan’s gaze left him and returned to the magnet of the night sky above her. Bright stars twinkled on their own, glowing, and prominent. Clusters of them spread across the heavens. She stared, surprised at her reaction. It was hard to speak. She had seen maps of the night sky and once or twice briefly glimpsed the stars up top, but as it was night time, the most dangerous period, the bunker’s guards had ordered her back down again. Now she was out in it. The Milky Way was thick with stars and...milky. It made sense.
What her mind could never fathom was the distances involved as reported by the textbooks. She blinked.
“Have you never seen the stars before?” Rory spoke close to her; his tone was one of amazement.
“Yes, I have but never like this. It’s all so...so...”
“Mind-blowingly awesome?”
“You could put it that way.”
The wind sighed through the trees while the fire sparked as it burned through the wood. A smoky-pine scent permeated the surrounding air. Neither spoke, as the others settled in their tents for the night, they both focused on the starry host above them.
“There is an intelligence behind all of this, with an intention. Despite our chaos, there is purpose. There must be.” Rory spoke softly, the warrior showing an intellect, and something else. A faith? The fire crackled, and its warmth continued to bathe Siobhan’s face.
“I’ve missed out on so much. I’ve been safe but...until I saw all this.” She waved her hand expansively around her and then pointed to the sky. “I hadn’t realised how sheltered the Bunker is.” She turned to him. “You’ve always lived here. You were born out here. You’re so lucky.”
“You were lucky too, Siobhan. Your father was a great man, and he kept you safe down in the bunker. You probably would nae have survived the post-crash world if he had nae.”
“How do you know my father was a great man?”
“Och, I read about him and we have one of his papers.” Rory shuffled on the log beside her and looked at his feet.
“You spoke like you knew him, though.”
Rory didn’t answer. The firelight lit his face with an orange glow, the ginger flecks in his long stubble stood out as he returned his gaze to the heavens. Then his arm shot out and pointed low to the horizon over the loch. “See that cluster of stars? That’s Pleiades. The seven daughters of the Greek gods. They sail, according to mythology. Verra appropriate as we’re going to the sea.”
He’d done it again. Changed the subject. What was he avoiding? Some subjects were definitely on his not-to-be-spoken-about list. Siobhan’s stomach churned, but she had to do it. She took a deep breath.
“When I was a little girl, two men came to visit us right as the stock market was crashing and before we went underground. My father made me promise to remember them—and I did.” She spoke quickly, in case he tried to interrupt again. Rory started to speak. She placed her fingers on his mouth. His lips were soft and warm, and his beard tickled her fingertips. He resisted speaking. “One of them looked very much like you, Rory. And his name was Ruairidh.” She made sure she pronounced it the Gaelic way.
Rory’s warm breath from his nostrils blew past her hand. He gazed at her intensely as he glanced from one eye to the other, seeming to decide. He took her hand in his and pulled it away from his mouth. Her pulse raced as his gaze never left hers.
He swallowed. “Come with me.”
Rory stood and pulled her beside him, then turned and rushed into the forest dragging her behind him. She had to run to keep up with his long strides. Her temples pounded in her head as he brushed her past the lower branches of pine, their footsteps soft on the pine needle covered ground.
What was he doing?
But the man she’d known for only a little over a day was a man she was certain she could trust. There was something so familiar about him. And she wanted to know why it was. She left her hand in his warm, strong hand, determined to find out what he wanted to tell her.
Rory stopped once they were far away from their camp, its fire now a small glowing dot many metres away. He turned to her, his face a dull shine in the reflected starlight as it dappled through the pines. She heard him swallow and his Adam’s apple bobbed in the shadowed light.
“Siobhan.” He swallowed again. “I know you. I am the man who played with you when you were a little girl.”
She could feel her eyes widen. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“You showed me your dolls’ house. You’re ambidextrous, and you wrote my name in the Gaelic.”
“But you...” Siobhan had found her
voice, of a sort. “You can’t be. It was forty years ago. He’d be in his sixties now.” She shook her head. “You’re his grandson.”
“No, I’m not.” Rory held both her hands in his and pressed them to his chest. His heart thumped through it. “It was me. My brother and I needed to find out how to fix this nuclear warhead before it goes off.”
“How did you...?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Join the dots, Siobhan. You told me you’re a genius, remember?”
“You...time travelled? No.” She shook her head again.
Rory’s nod was barely perceptible at first. Then he nodded fully. “But you have to keep it secret. Siobhan, I’m trusting you with a great deal, lass. Please dinnae say a word, especially not to your pal, Antony. Please.” He sounded firm, but a hint of pleading edged his voice.
Rory had risked a lot in telling her.
Oh, so much.
“Promise me,” he demanded when she hadn’t answered. He still held her hand to himself.
“I promise.” She had easily voiced it, but she would keep her promise. “You use a portal or a time machine, or is there a wormhole nearby? How did you do it?”
“I cannae tell, Siobhan. And stop asking, for I will nae reveal it.”
The edges of his angular features softened in the starlight. His hair was loosely pulled back. It had been in a man-bun that day she first met him, but its irrepressible russet curls remained ever obvious.
“When did you go back? I mean, how long ago from now?”
He swallowed. “Yesterday.”
She gasped. “That’s why you look the same as I remember! And why you’re so tired. You have done a fair bit of travelling in the past few days!” A small laugh escaped her mouth.
Rory’s eyes flicked to her lips, and in the dim light his own lips parted as his face began a slow descent to hers.
A crack of gunfire to the far left of the campsite stopped his momentum to her mouth as he whipped his head in the shot’s direction. His hands dropped hers and his handgun was at the ready, up and aimed.
“Keep low. Follow me,” he ordered her.
Siobhan followed meekly behind him. No further gunshots sounded.
What was she thinking? Was he really going to kiss her? She was old enough to be his mother, for goodness’ sake. Why would he do that? She was imagining things. Wishful—but stupid—thinking. She was caught up in her girlish memories and not in her current reality.
Get a handle on it, Siobhan.
They made it back to the camp. He turned to her. “You okay?”
Siobhan nodded as he left and ran over to Kendra, who had been on watch and was the one who had fired the shot. They spoke for a while, heads close together. The other members of his crew wandered back to the fire.
Antony came from the forest, eyes on the ground before him. He walked with a small torch lighting his way. He didn’t look toward the fire where Siobhan and others now gathered but went straight to his tent.
Rory turned to those who had joined her at the fire, now glowing embers.
“It’s okay everyone. False alarm. Go back to bed.” He left his crew, after giving Xian orders for his watch, and walked back to the fire. Others had returned to their tents. He looked at her. “You best get some sleep yourself, Siobhan. Goodnight.” Rory turned and followed Xian.
Chapter 16
He is enclosed.
The suit is stiff, and the fit is snug.
The helmet is the worst. It’s as if he rebreathes his own exhaled air.
The respirator mask, tight around his mouth and nose, doesn’t help these feelings of asphyxia.
He turns to his companion. Angus wears a silver radiation protection suit as well, his green eyes peer out through the clear polycarbonate visor.
Angus nods and they walk along the narrow corridor lined with pipes; a red glow colours everything in the same hue.
They enter a room. No, it’s not a room. It’s a continuation of the corridor, only wider in this section. There are dials and knobs and small lights indicating something.
He doesn’t know what though, as the writing is Korean.
How does he know it’s Korean?
“Okay, Great One, get up. Time for exercise.” Xian stood in front of Rory’s tent with his arms crossed.
Rory rolled over and half sat in his bedroll.
Och no, another vision.
He blinked, got up without a word and followed Xian to a small clearing. He stood opposite his friend as they both began the exercises, with arms and legs moving in controlled flowing patterns, punches and kicks, blocks and holds. Rory was still stiff from sleep but loosening up gradually. Xian moved with grace, his punches strong and legs supple and more flexible than his own.
One position involved a wide stance followed by a high kick and then returning the leg to the ground. Rory was awkward, his torso stiffer and kick not as high as Xian’s. In a swift movement, Xian leant over and pushed him on the left shoulder. Rory staggered back, desperately correcting his balance, attempting to not fall. Xian lifted himself off the ground and with a light kick to Rory’s chest, Rory completed his decent, landing on his bottom.
Rory jumped to a standing position; his face hot in the cool morning. Mist hugged their campsite and hung close to the mountainside, swirling through the trees and mingling with the smoke from their campfire. With luck, he was far enough away from the camp for the mist to hide him. He stood with his hands on his hips and tilted his head to one side as laughter erupted from the on-lookers by the fire.
Thanks, Xian. Why was he deliberately embarrassing him?
Xian approached him, the set of his shoulders and the flow of his movement told Rory Xian hadn’t finished with him. Rory tensed, focused on keeping his feet fixed to the ground this time.
“Your chi is in your throat, white-man,” Xian said as he pushed Rory in the chest. Rory stepped backward to regain his balance.
Rory shook his head. “I’m too tired for this, Bruce.”
“You too tired to not die?” Xian’s deep-brown, intelligent eyes locked with his. He stepped closer, his voice a whisper. “Humility is a noble trait in a leader, Rory.”
Humility or humiliation?
It was hard to tell the difference in the present situation.
Xian gave a slight shake to his head. He then placed a hand over a closed fist in front of himself and bowed to Rory.
Rory returned the bow and walked to the log by the fire. A breakfast of porridge cooked in a pot over the flames, its almost-charred aroma hit his nostrils as smoke stung his eyes.
“Well, it seems you aren’t infallible after all, Mr Campbell.” Antony’s voice rose above the fresh bout of chuckles which had erupted on Rory’s return.
“Never said I was. Just human, like you.” Rory picked up a mug of tea as he sat next to Siobhan on the log.
“Why did you call Xian Bruce? Is it his anglicised name?” Siobhan said to Rory as she glared over at Antony sitting on the opposite log. Antony’s chuckles quietened.
“Och, no. It’s the name of a brilliant Gung-Fu artist. Bruce Lee. He made some movies. You may have seen them.” Siobhan shook her head. “What is chi?”
“It is centre of balance.” Xian sat on the other side of Rory. “And like most big white men, his is too high.”
“Maybe you should stick to our way of fighting, Mr Campbell.” Antony raised his mug of tea and took a sip.
Rory ignored him. He didn’t need the sassenach’s ridicule.
“What was that last night? One of your people seeing things?” Antony was pushing it.
“No. One of my people just being cautious.” Rory gritted his teeth. He’d have to work with this guy today, so he’d have to suck it in, as they say. But what he actually wanted to do was—.
“How much further have we to travel to Loch Ewe, Rory?” Siobhan looked directly at his face. Her right eyebrow cocked.
Was there a slight warning in her expression?
He didn’t ans
wer, distracted by those sapphire eyes.
Man, this woman was beautiful. And he’d stupidly nearly kissed her last night. What was he thinking? Thank heavens for Kendra’s jumpiness. He’d no time for any o’ that, despite the vision. They had this nuke to neutralise.
But no, Kendra had not been jumpy. She’d seen something, she assured him. And he believed her. The intruders had disappeared with the gunshot. Not wanting to alarm people, he’d sent everyone to bed, except Xian and Callum, and stayed up most of the night with Kendra, in case the unwelcomed visitors returned.
“It will take us most of the day. We’ll leave as soon as we’ve breakfasted and packed up.” It was hard to take his eyes away from Siobhan. He had to trust her with the knowledge he’d given her last night. Time would tell if his impulsiveness was a mistake or no’.
Breakfast finished, and they packed up camp in a surprisingly short time. Everyone helped except Angus who had read his way through three quarters of the how-to-drive-a-sub manual already. Rory helped Callum and Sanjay load the technical equipment onto the mules. A horse whinnied in the woods of the steep brae beside them. The clanking of cooking utensils as they loaded them onto packhorses, the banter between Geoff and Xian, and the general orders being issued by himself and Callum ceased abruptly.
“All our horses are here, right?” Sanjay’s dark-brown eyes showed a lot of white.
Rory nodded and put a finger to his lips. Antony looked far into the mist in the direction of the mountain top behind them. Rory followed his gaze to the foggy mountain side, which was a thick green and white monochrome. The sound of horses crashing through the forest increased in volume.
Those with weapons held them ready.
“What if they’re friendly?” Siobhan whispered as she crept beside him.
Rory tilted his head. “I doubt it,” he whispered back. “I won’t give away our location on the chance they are.”
They stood motionless, weapons at the ready, as the sound of horses receded. Then there was silence for a few minutes.
“I think we can say it’s safe to move now.” Antony holstered his handgun, a Berretta.