Chapter 9
I
The sun was shining and he had a spring in his step as he came home from the market. He had the food for the feast and in two days, he would be married. He was happy.
The traders had kindly boxed the food and it was short work bringing it from the cart into the house, his house, which he had built just for her. There were rooms enough to start a family, once they were wed. They had talked about it already.
He called out to her, as he did every time, knowing that she wouldn't answer. Part of his mind knew that it was dreaming, it always did. The dream was always the same, reminding him of what he had before, of what he had lost. He willed himself to wake up, not to open the door, but he wasn't in control.
He opens the bedroom door and there they are, his brother and his bride-to-be. He seemed to step out of himself, watching from the corner of the room as he steps forward and pulls her out of bed.
She's crying, begging, as his brother, Jason, clambers away from him, reaching for clothes.
“It's not,” Jason would say.
“I didn't mean to,” Jason would cry.
“I'm sorry,” Jason would plead.
She would sit on the floor and weep.
Jason runs for the door and he gives chase, lumbering after him, crashing out into the sunshine.
Jason stands there, wearing only his trousers, arms in front of him, surrendering.
“It was a mistake,” Jason begs, dropping to his knees.
He steps forward and punches his brother, hard, driving him to the ground. Kneeling over him, he hits him again and again, each blow stronger than the last. His brother stops moving, but still he continues.
A scream behind him and she's running at him, knife in her hand, yelling at him to stop. He gets to his feet and turns to face her. She's telling him to get away from her, but he keeps getting closer.
He pushes her and she swipes the knife at him. He recoils as it tears into the side of his face, blood pouring onto his shoulder. That stops him, makes him pause.
She has already thrown the knife away and is crawling towards Jason, weeping. She cradles his head and sobs, shouting and screaming.
“He's dead,” she yells.
“You killed him,” she cries.
He runs and runs, not stopping, not looking back.
“You killed him, Carl, you killed your brother!”
“Carl!”
“Carl!”
“Carl. Carl, wake up, you're on watch,” Matthew said, shaking him gently at the shoulder. Carl groggily got to his feet, wiping a single tear from his eye.
“You okay?” Matthew continued. “I can do the rest of the night if you need? We should reach Garstang tomorrow afternoon.”
“No, no, I'm good, boss, thanks. Just not as young as I used to be, know what I mean?” Carl replied, checking his rifle and slinging it over his shoulder. The camp was quiet and the fire almost out, but there were still several hours until dawn.
Matthew smiled and patted him on the shoulder before going to join Arian for a few precious hours of sleep.
II
Alexander had been woken by the explosion, another night disturbed by the traitors in his midst. “Explain,” he barked at General Boshtok, anger evident on his face.
“My Liege,” Boshtok stammered, “two men attacked the guards at one of the munitions wagons, destroying it in the process. There was an exchange of gunfire and they were both killed. They won't be causing you any more trouble and the fire, the fire is almost out, my Liege.”
Alexander shook his head and turned to face Larson, who stood to attention under his gaze. “And what of the prisoner?” he asked.
“He was with another, a woman, my Liege. She was shot whilst escaping; she won't have gotten far,” Larson replied.
“What were they after?” Alexander asked.
“He is yet to regain consciousness, my Liege,” Larson informed him.
“Yes, yes, but where was he when you apprehended him?” Alexander asked impatiently.
Larson took a moment to compose himself before continuing. “They appeared to be coming from the foremost Road Train,” he said. “There doesn't appear to be any damage, at least as far as we can tell until daylight. I believe that you may have been the target, my Liege.”
This surprised Alexander. He knew that he had swayed the people to his wishes and couldn't imagine them wanting to harm him directly. They should want to please him; that was how it worked.
“Do you have any evidence to support that assumption?” Alexander asked.
“No, not as yet, my Liege, though that was clearly where they were running from,” Larson replied, less sure of himself.
“Very well,” Alexander continued. “I want a full inspection of the four Road Trains, surrounding wagons, and supplies at first light. Report any findings to me directly. General, I want search teams off into the surrounding woodland and the woman or her body found, no excuses. And finally, once the prisoner is awake, he is to be brought before me.”
There was a general murmuring of acknowledgement and the room slowly emptied, leaving Alexander alone with his thoughts.
III
Catrina awoke to find the sun's rays warming her face. She wasn't sure how long she had been out, but the position of the sun suggested that it was perhaps an hour after dawn.
The pain in her side was much worse than she remembered, burning and tearing at her insides as she struggled to get to her feet. Lifting her shirt, she was able to inspect the wound clearly.
There was a small hole in the small of her back with a slightly larger hole in her abdominal wall. Fortunately, the bleeding looked to have stopped at some point whilst she was out, but the blood on her clothes and on the ground at her feet suggested that she had lost a lot.
Removing the shirt, she tied the sleeves tightly around her waist, the best she could manage with what she had. Her head was woozy and she almost vomited, but she had no choice; she had to get moving.
Facing west, she set off, and for the first time in a long time, she was determined to live.
IV
It was shortly after noon as they crouched on the outskirts of Garstang. By Ben's reckoning, it had been three weeks and two days since they had left the farmhouse, but the end was finally in sight. He had a view of the winding road as it climbed the mountain on the far side of the town.
“You see anyone?” Matthew asked Carl as they lay on a small hill overlooking the north side of the town.
“No, no one at all. There should be spotters or scouts or someone, but the place looks deserted,” Carl replied apprehensively. Matthew looked over to Mike, who nodded in agreement.
Slowly, the three men edged back towards the rest of the group, moving silently through the damp undergrowth. It hadn't rained in days, but the ground was still sodden.
“Well?” Joe asked as they arrived.
“No one. The place looks deserted,” Matthew replied.
“So, that's good, isn't it?” Ben said eagerly. “We can be there by nightfall.”
“I don't think so,” Matthew continued. “The people you said were here, they're unlikely to have just left. If we can't see them, it means that their spotters are good, very good. They probably already know that we're here.”
Arian and Safran exchanged worried glances.
“So what do we do?” Ben asked.
“We need to skirt round the town completely,” Matthew informed them. “Going through the streets and gardens would be suicide. The question is whether we go now, or we wait for nightfall.”
“I say we wait until nightfall. If we move through the outskirts, we may bypass them completely, and if not, they'll be as disadvantaged as us by the darkness,” Carl said.
“Joe? Mike?” Matthew asked. They looked at each other and nodded in agreement.
“Okay, then it's decided. This way,” Matthew said as he led them back into the woodland. They made camp in a cluster of trees near the north western edge
of the town and waited for dark.
V
Alexander was seated at his desk when the prisoner was brought before him. He was bound at the wrist and half dragged into the chair, unable to bear any wait on his injured leg. A tourniquet had been applied, but the blood was already seeping through it.
The two guards stood to attention as Alexander looked up from his papers. “Leave us,” he said, rising. Without question, they turned and left.
“I am glad to see you're awake,” Alexander said, moving his chair to sit opposite Peter. Peter met his gaze but said nothing.
“It's quite the amount of trouble you and your friends have caused me,” Alexander continued. “They're all dead now, you know? The two who caused the explosion and the woman. Her body was found this morning, bled out, alone in the Wastelands. I believe the officer who found her remarked that skeets had already started to make a meal of her.”
Peter’s gaze faltered, looking down towards the floor.
“Ah, I see she was important to you,” Alexander said. “Wife, perhaps? Lover? Sister? No matter; you failed her like you failed the rest of your southern spies.”
Peter opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again without a word.
“No, please, go ahead. What did you want to say?” Alexander asked.
“I'm no spy, southern or otherwise,” Peter said, lips dry and cracked.
“No?” Alexander replied, holding a small glass of water up to Peter’s lips and allowing him the smallest sip. “Do tell.”
Peter sat back and once again met Alexander's gaze, refusing to speak. Alexander returned the glass of water to the table.
“So, not a spy, then a traitor, perhaps, yes?” Alexander asked. “Sold out your countrymen for what? Money? Sex? Don't tell me it was love?”
Peter said nothing as Alexander rose to his feet and began to pace around Peter’s chair.
“You'll talk eventually, you know, they always do,” Alexander informed him. “How about we start with your name and move on from there?”
“Peter Anderson, sergeant, Island City Militia,” Peter replied.
Alexander smiled. “So you are a traitor and a member of the City Watch at that,” he said. “I must say, Mr Anderson, that it isn't often that something surprises me. Most of the Watch were desperate to join up, to follow me, and perhaps do some real soldiering for a change. What makes you so different?”
Peter remained silent as Alexander returned to his seat.
“No?” he continued. “Well, tell me about your accomplices then? The gentleman who I spoke to three days ago was certainly of southern origin. How did the two of you meet up? How many more of you are out there? What did you want with the Road Trains?”
“Peter Anderson, ser...” Peter began.
“Oh, spare me!” Alexander yelled, screaming into Peter's face. “We both know that you're not getting out of here alive! Tell me what I want to know or I will make you tell me! How many more of you are there? What were you doing at the Road Trains? How many more can resist my control?”
With an effort, Alexander regained himself and sat back in his chair, slowing his breathing. It didn't help to lose his temper. He was in control here; this was his domain.
Peter looked on, expressionless.
“Now where were we?” Alexander continued, regaining his former calmness. “Traitorous Watchman, working with southern spies. I ask again, how many more of you are there?”
Alexander paused, taking a drink of water for his suddenly dry throat. Peter looked on.
“Okay, that's okay,” Alexander said. “I have a lot to get done before we reach Draxis. Now that I know your name, I'm sure we can find some friends or relatives amongst the rabble out there, and kill them in front of you until you talk. This little game is over.”
Alexander rose and started towards the rear of the trailer, intending to call the guards. Peter realised that it was time to speak. He had no family, but he wouldn't let anyone else die, not when he could stop it.
“I'm no traitor,” he began, making Alexander pause.
Alexander smiled and returned to his seat. “Really? Please explain,” he said.
“I know Lady Safran didn't kill the Regent, the true Regent,” Peter continued. “I think you did, or you had it done. Either way, that makes you the traitor here, not me.”
“Interesting,” Alexander said. “And how did you come to this conclusion?”
“I helped her escape,” Peter told him, “from the dungeons below the palace, with the others. You didn't execute her. I don't know who you killed, but it wasn't her; it wasn't any of them. They're gone, far away from here. By now, Baron Stephen already knows that you're coming. He'll be ready for you.
“Turn the army round, let the people go home,” Peter concluded.
Alexander smiled as he replied. “Well, now, you do know some awkward secrets, don't you?” he said. “How many people did you tell?”
“I don't know,” Peter replied. “We tried, but no one believed us. Your truth was the only one that mattered to them. You've got them whipped into a frenzy of hate and blood lust and that's all that matters to them now.
“Please, you can make it stop, let them go home before they all die.”
“Now why would I want to do that?” Alexander asked.
Peter struggled for an answer. “They're your people,” he replied.
This time Alexander laughed out loud. “My people?” he said. “What makes you think I associate myself with those peasants? They are tools, nothing more. For all that you've learnt, you really know nothing, do you?
“Thank you, Mr Anderson, this has been most entertaining, but we are done here, I think.”
“But, I don't understand?” Peter asked.
“No, no, you don't, do you,” Alexander replied, retrieving the pistol from his desk and shooting Peter squarely between the eyes.
VI
As night fell, Carl led the way, rifle ready at his shoulder. Matthew was behind him, closely followed by Arian, Ben, and Safran. Joe and Mike brought up the rear. They were all armed, even Ben, though he doubted that he would be able to shoot anyone if the need arose.
Sliding down an embankment, they regrouped behind a low wall, preparing to make the run to the next piece of cover.
“On my count,” Carl said, checking all around him for any hint of movement. Ben considered asking if he should go on one, or if it should be one then go, but now was not the time for jokes. It wasn't a reference that Carl would understand anyway.
“Okay, stay low, one, two, go!” Carl said as he set off.
They ran in a crouch, along a road on the outskirts of town, making their way towards the mountain road. They were staying as far away from the centre of town as possible whilst keeping an eye on their goal. The steep inclines at the foot of the mountain meant that the road was the only way to ascend without climbing equipment.
Twenty minutes in, and they were still alone as far as anyone could tell. It was making Matthew nervous, a sentiment Ben would have described as quiet, too quiet. It wasn't long before their fears were realised.
The first shots came as they ran through a crossroads, the bullets carving holes in the tarmac to Carl's right. They reacted instantly, falling back and taking cover behind a damaged brick wall bordering the remains of a two-storey building.
“Did you see where they came from?” Matthew asked, breathless.
“Second floor, three buildings down, would be my guess,” Carl replied, popping his head up to get a better view. The wall was immediately peppered with bullets.
“We can't stay here,” Matthew continued. “There'll be reinforcements along any minute. Joe, Mike, we'll give you some covering fire. Try and get around behind them and take them out.”
There was a nod of agreement and Carl and Matthew had their weapons raised over the wall, firing blindly, as Joe and Mike slipped around the wall. After what felt like an eternity, there was a brief exchange of gunfire off to their right. “Move!??
? Mike yelled and Carl responded instantly, leading them in a sprint. They regrouped at the end of the road.
“We put two down,” Joe said in between deep breaths, “but they had already signalled their friends.”
Mike displayed a dirty blue bed sheet before casting it aside. “We could hear them coming,” he said. “Sounds like a lot of them.”
Matthew took it all in, formulating plans and considering options. In the end, it came down to a choice of two. Run, or stand and fight.
“We're maybe a mile from the foot of the mountain,” he began. “We could try and make a run for it, or we bed in here and hold them off. Talk to me.”
“We don't have the ammo for a long fight,” Carl said.
“And there's nowhere to dig in,” Safran said, casting an eye all around. “At best, we'd be secure on two sides.”
“Agreed,” Matthew said and they were off, leaving the road and slipping into an alley between buildings.
They had a general idea of the direction to head in, but none of them knew the layout of every street, not even Ben. Every corner was fraught with danger, every road a potential ambush. There were sounds of activity, seemingly from all around them, but no more gunfire.
“Wait, this way,” Ben said, drawing them to a momentary halt. “I remember this street; we need to head up there.”
There was no discussion. Carl took the lead and on they ran, jumping a small garden fence and then through a heavy iron gate. It was then that Joe was hit in the shoulder and any hope they had was lost.
Carl kicked down the door of the closest building, dragging Joe along behind him as the others bundled in, Matthew and Mike giving covering fire. Most of the ground floor was still standing but there was only one door, the one they had entered by.
Ben offered to apply pressure to Joe's shoulder as the others took up positions at the windows and doors.
“This is bad, boss,” Carl volunteered, firing two shots from his rifle at movement across the road.
“Shit!” Mike added, ducking as gunfire shot out the few remaining pieces of glass from the window he was aiming through.
The moonlight cast more shadow than helpful illumination; there could have been five or fifty attackers as far as they could see. When the voice came, it could have been from anywhere.
“Hey, little rabbits,” it began, “there's nowhere else to run. You can hide in your hole till we come get you, or you can pay the toll. We keep your stuff, your women, maybe the rest of you walk outta here. What do you say?”
Carl thought he had a line on the voice and let off a short burst from his rifle. The voice laughed, a deep rich belly laugh, before gunfire erupted from all around them, splintering walls and breaking windows. They dived to the floor, covering their heads.
Once the onslaught was over, Carl and Mike took up positions at the windows, letting off rounds at any sign of movement. Matthew joined them whilst Arian and Safran leant around the door, taking shots with their pistols. Before long, the rifles were empty. Whether they were able to hit anybody, they couldn't tell; each shot they fired returned in kind.
During a lull in the gunfire, the voice spoke again. “Right about now,” it began, “I'm guessing I got more men than you got bullets. Am I right? You drop your guns out the window, maybe I don't kill you right away.”
Inside the house, nervous glances were exchanged.
“What do we do?” Ben asked, the bleeding from Joe's shoulder finally slowing.
“Your call, boss,” Carl said to Matthew.
Matthew rose to his feet, tossing his rifle and then his pistol out of the nearest window. “We stay here and we die,” he said. “We surrender, maybe we get another chance later on, I don't know. I'm sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Carl replied, dropping his weapons too. The rest of them soon followed.
They were standing, arms raised when the men burst in, all except Ben, who was still tending to Joe's shoulder. They were lined up facing the far wall as the owner of the voice entered.
“Well, now, ain’t this a sight,” he said, looking them up and down. Ben watched him as he entered.
“It's you,” the man said, smiling at Ben. “I remember you, little rabbit. Going to tell me you ain’t no southerner this time?”
“Bosen,” Ben replied.
“You remember,” Bosen chuckled. “Let's see who you brought me to play with. Check them for weapons, boys, and bring them back to base.”
With that, he turned and left, directing his men to collect the guns from outside.
The remaining men checked them all for weapons before binding their hands behind their backs. “Hey,” Matthew said as they took their time groping Safran and Arian, but he was quickly silenced as another man clubbed him in the side of the head with the butt of his rifle. He was knocked to his knees, but managed to stand again, barely.
Joe was dragged to his feet and forced to walk to the base with them, his shoulder bleeding more heavily as his arms were bound behind his back.
The march through the streets took several turns, but before long, they were standing before what Ben recognised to be the old town hall. After being escorted up the steps, they were manhandled into one of the offices, a locked heavy wooden door sealing their fate.
VII
“We have disposed of the remains, my Liege,” Larson said, addressing the Regent in his trailer. “The soldiers had already displayed the other two saboteurs, but I cut them down as requested. They have been put to the fire.”
“Very good,” Alexander replied, not lifting his gaze from the papers in front of him.
Larson paused for a moment, considering whether to proceed. “If it pleases you, my Liege, I would ask a question?” he said apprehensively.
This captured Alexander's attention. Ordinarily, he would have dismissed him out of hand. He was supposed to follow orders, not question them. Today, though, had been anything but ordinary.
Alexander was not used to questioning his own mortality. He had bent the will of the people and they were with him, marching south to enact his wishes. He had never imagined that anyone would want to harm him; it just didn't work like that. If one had resisted, then how many others? How many potential spies and assassins were within his midst?
“Proceed,” Alexander said, giving Larson his full attention.
“My Liege,” Larson began, choosing each word carefully, “I mean no disrespect. I would just ask, why would you not wish to show the people your victory? The saboteurs are dead, is it not cause for celebration?”
Alexander thought for a minute before answering. “I believe they have seen enough death for the time being,” he informed him, “and there will be so much more in the coming days and weeks. But you are right, there should be celebration. Send words to the officers; there is to be double rations this night. Let the people sleep with a full stomach.”
Larson saluted and made to leave.
“Larson,” Alexander interrupted. “Before you go, have General Boshtok attend to me. There is much we should discuss.”
Larson saluted again and left the trailer.
Boshtok entered five minutes later, standing to attention as he addressed the Regent.
“Ah, Boshtok, please come sit with me,” Alexander said, smiling. Boshtok was concerned by the apparent friendliness, but did as he was bid.
“There are plans we should discuss,” Alexander continued. “But first, tell me of the hunt for the woman. Have you found her yet?”
“Not as yet, my Liege,” Boshtok replied. “Though the scouts are widening their search. She can't have gotten far, wounded as she was.”
“Perhaps,” Alexander said under his breath. “So onto more pressing business. As you are aware, we are behind schedule. I have decided on another change of plan.”
“As you wish, my Liege,” Boshtok said.
“Yes, of course. Tomorrow morning, you are to lead the army south, across the Wastelands, heading straight for Maleton,” Alexander said, pointing
out the route on the map. “You will make camp in the farmlands north of the city and await instructions. I will take one hundred of my personal guard and enter the city, heading straight for the palace. Once the palace is in my hands, I will send a messenger with further orders. From now on, the Road Trains will travel day and night. I will be in Maleton by the end of the week.”
General Boshtok considered the map, tracing the route with his finger. “It will be risky, my Liege,” he said. “We have yet to receive information on troop numbers in Maleton. The City Watch alone may number in the hundreds and who knows how many soldiers are stationed there. One hundred men, even your finest, may not be enough.”
“I only intend to take the palace, Boshtok,” Alexander informed him. “Once we are behind its walls, one hundred will be more than enough to hold it, and once they realise the army at their door, the city will surrender itself to me.”
“If you would just consider,” Boshtok began, but Alexander cut him off.
“You have your orders,” he commanded. “Now act on them. This is not a discussion. You are dismissed.”
“Yes, yes, my Liege,” Boshtok said, leaving Alexander to refine the details of his assault.
VIII
It was three hours before the office door was opened and Bosen entered, flanked by four armed men. They were still bound behind their backs, arms numb and painful as they struggled to stand. Joe was weak, but the bleeding had finally stopped.
Bosen stepped up to Arian first, caressing her face as she squirmed away from him. “Choices, choices,” he said. “Where to start.”
“Leave her alone,” Matthew said, taking a step towards him. Carl moved with him, causing the armed men to block their path.
Bosen laughed and pulled Safran to him, holding her tightly around the waist. “This one then?” he suggested. “She is a little young for my tastes, but who knows? Perhaps she'll please me.”
Matthew and Carl took another step forwards, Mike joining them. Ben stood back, unsure what to do.
“What do you want, Bosen?” Ben said, trying to catch Safran's eye. “Maybe we can work something out?”
Bosen thought for a minute then laughed, dragging the struggling Safran towards the door. “I already have everything I want,” he said as his four men fell into step behind him.
They felt the explosion as well as heard it, the office walls shaking as dust fell from the ceiling. Bosen looked surprised and then angry, pushing Safran back into the room. “Lock them in, then follow me,” he yelled, already sprinting down the corridor.
The men reacted, aiming their guns at the prisoners before walking backwards from the room, bolting the door behind them.
“What was that?” Ben asked, surprised.
“No idea,” Matthew said, “but while they're distracted, let's see if we can loosen these bonds. Safran, are you okay?”
“I will be,” she replied sternly. “But if he comes near me again, I'll make him sorry.”
Matthew smiled. “Right, team up,” he said. “Stand back to back and see what you can do.”
They took turns struggling with the bonds as a further explosion and the sound of gunfire edged ever closer. Carl thought that he was making headway when suddenly there was gunfire right outside the door. They stepped away from each other without being told, backing towards the wall as the door was forced open, splintering at its hinges.
Two men entered, both dressed in a green so dark that it was almost black. Their faces were painted a similar colour, their eyes seeming to glow, white against the dark background.
“That one,” the first man said, pointing at Ben. “Leave the others.”
The second man pulled Ben towards the door whilst the others looked on, confused.
“No, get your hands off me,” Ben shouted as he struggled to get free. As bullets peppered the doorframe, he was able to wrench himself from his attacker and step back with the others.
“Who are these guys?” Carl asked, struggling to make sense of the situation.
“No idea,” Ben replied, eyeing the two soldiers warily.
“Orders of the Regent,” the first man said. “You're taking us to the laboratory, now.”
“No way,” Ben said, standing behind Carl and Matthew.
“We're leaving,” the first man said as the second reached again for Ben. Matthew kicked him just above his knee, dropping him to the floor.
“Kill the others,” the first man said, raising his gun as the second man got to his feet.
“No, wait, stop!” Ben shouted, stepping forwards. “If you hurt them, any of them, I won't take you anywhere. You've got to get us out of here.”
“No,” was all the first man said, stepping to the doorway and firing a short burst down the corridor.
“That's the deal,” Matthew said, stepping in front of Ben.
As another burst of gunfire hit the doorframe, the second soldier said, “Commander, we need to move.”
“Fine,” the commander replied. “Keep that one alive; the others, I don't care.”
Dragging Ben with them, the two soldiers ran in a crouch back down the corridor, the others following closely behind. Matthew continued to struggle with the bonds that Carl had loosened, but his hands were still far from free.
They rounded a corner to find a third soldier, holding off Bosen's men, the corridor lined with bodies. “Cole and Johnson are down, Commander,” he said, letting off another burst from his rifle.
“Hold this position,” the Commander replied. “Two minutes, then blow this place as you leave.”
“Yes, Commander,” he replied as the commander sped on, the others following.
Around another corner and through a damaged wall and they were back in the fresh air, sprinting across an open stretch of ground and over the road beyond. The Commander skidded to a stop behind a wall, the second soldier pulling Ben along with him as another loud explosion lit up the night sky.
They waited, panting, watching the damaged building, but no one followed. Flames slowly took hold as smoke billowed into the night, the sounds of walls and ceilings collapsing reaching their ears.
After another minute, the commander pulled Ben to his feet. “Now it's your turn,” he said, directing Ben back towards the road. “Take us to this damned laboratory.”
Still bound, they set off, Ben in the lead with Carl and Matthew, followed by Arian and Safran as Mike supported Joe. The two soldiers took up the rear, fingers never far from their triggers as they began their slow ascent up the mountain towards the laboratory.
IX
The journey up the mountain road was slow and arduous. The rain had started again, a fine mist that soaked them to the skin, sapping their heat and their strength.
The soldiers said very little except to stop the others talking and to order them to move faster. After almost three hours, Joe collapsed, unable to get back up. He had been struggling for the last half mile, already weakened from the bullet wound, but he could go no further.
The commander called a halt as the second soldier helped Joe into a sitting position, sharing some water with him from his pack.
“How far?” the commander asked Ben, looking up towards the summit.
“I'm not sure,” Ben replied. “We're about halfway. I suppose another few hours?”
The commander nodded. “Then you have ten minutes to regain your strength before we move out,” he told them. “If anyone stops us again, I'll leave them bleeding where they fall.”
Ben understood the threat and moved to the barricade at the side of the road, resting against it. Matthew edged up beside him as the commander returned to check on the other soldier.
“I'm almost free of these bonds,” Matthew whispered, looking away from Ben as he spoke. “And they seem to listen to you without threatening to shoot straight away. If you can distract them, I might be able to do something. I'll give you a signal when I'm ready.”
Ben said nothing as Matthew strolled away, making an exaggerated show
of loosening the tight muscles in his legs.
Carl joined the two soldiers as they helped Joe to his feet. “How's he doing?” Carl asked, a concerned look on his face.
“I don't care,” the commander replied.
“I'm good, Carl, I'm okay,” Joe said weakly. “I'll make it.” He took a few uneasy steps before finding his stride.
“So tell me,” Carl continued, giving Matthew time to speak to Ben. “How long have you been following us?”
“What difference does it make?” the commander replied.
“None, I guess, I'm just curious,” Carl continued.
“We've been on you since your release from the dungeons,” the commander informed him.
“I thought as much.” Carl nodded. “I knew the escape was way too easy.”
“Good for you,” the commander said sarcastically. “Now get moving; there's still a lot of ground to cover.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Carl said, joining Matthew and Ben at the head of the group.
They continued their steady march in silence, heads held low, shivering with every step. Somewhere near the summit, Ben led them away from the main road and onto a dirt track, now muddy from the snow and rain. Eyeing the apparent dead end, the commander called them to a halt.
“No tricks now,” he said, scrutinising the area around them. “I was told that I'm looking for a building or door of some kind.”
“It is, and I suppose it's kind of a trick. Look, just follow me,” Ben said, leading them forwards. The two soldiers held back, weapons raised and ready.
There was a rumble underfoot and they stood in awe as the illusion of the mountainside changed, the huge rock door sliding into the ground ahead of them. Within a minute, the mountainside was buried and the grandeur of the natural cavern was exposed, vehicles and all. Carl gave Ben a surprised look, part of him always having wondered if Ben really was just crazy.
“After you,” Ben said, directing them inside.
“Wait,” the commander ordered. “Clarke, you go in first and check it out. Signal me the all clear and then we'll join you.”
“Yes, sir,” the second soldier said, cautiously entering the cavern. Between the midday sun and overhead lights, the cavern was well lit, but Clarke took his time, searching in and around each of the vehicles, checking behind rocky outcrops. Once he was happy that there was no one else there, he gave three short whistles and the commander directed the rest of them inside.
“Where now?” the commander asked, taking in all of the strange things around him.
“This way,” Ben replied, heading towards the lift.
There was another rumble and the commander spun around, aiming his rifle at the slowly rising door. “It's automatic,” Ben called back as the others followed behind him.
Ben stood before the open lift door. “We have to go down there,” he said, directing the soldiers towards the open lift shaft. They both peered down into the darkness, eyeing the ladder.
“There must be another way?” the commander asked.
“No, there isn't. If you'll just untie us, we can all climb down,” Ben replied.
“Not a chance,” the commander informed him. “Clarke will go whilst I keep an eye on you here. Once this place is secure, our mission is over and we're back to the Regent.”
“Okay,” Ben replied. “I suppose he'll be able to override the main door controls so you can get in and out. It's simple really, just a root hack.”
The commander eyed him suspiciously. “I'm not about to let you down there,” he said. “You do it here or we all leave now and return with a larger force. Your call?”
“Okay,” Ben said, leading them along. “I might be able to call the lift or something so we can all go. Pass me the tablet over there, by the door.”
“Tablet?” Clarke asked.
“The shiny black rectangle, with the glass. It's right there,” Ben said, pointing with his foot.
Clarke picked it up and returned it to the commander.
“What now?” the commander asked, turning it over in his hands.
“Turn it on, the button on the side, there,” Ben replied.
The tablet hummed to life, its screen flashing as a variety of icons and charts appeared. The commander and Clarke looked at each other, clearly impressed.
“That's it,” Ben continued, looking down at the screen. “Navigate through to the root menu, integrate through the primary hub, and relay it back out through the mainframe.”
Ben smiled towards the commander. What he had just told them made no sense, but there was no way that they could know that.
“Untie him,” the commander ordered, “but I want you to show me every step. If I even think that you're messing with me, your friends die.”
“Got it,” Ben said, working the circulation back into his arms.
The commander and Clarke stood over him, paying careful attention to everything that he pressed on the screen. Ben chanced a brief glance towards Matthew, which was met with an almost imperceptible nod.
“This icon here,” Ben said, pulling the soldiers’ gaze, “takes me into the mainframe root menu. Here, see? Move that through to there, override code, trick it into thinking, yes, that's it. Press here and we're done, okay?”
The commander leant over and pressed the icon Ben was indicating and suddenly the cavern was plunged into darkness.
There was the sensation of movement followed by a sickening snap. Further movement to Ben's left knocked him off his feet and was followed by the sound of fighting. After five seconds, the lights flicked back on.
Clarke was at Ben's feet, neck bent at an impossible angle. Matthew had the commander pinned to the floor, slowly choking the life out of him. “Untie the others,” Matthew said breathlessly.
Ben left the tablet on the floor and hurried to his feet, untying the others in turn. Before long, the commander stopped struggling and Matthew came over to join them, tucking the commander’s pistol into the waistband of his trousers.
“Nice job there, Ben, I owe you,” Matthew said, moving to Arian and checking her over.
“No, it was you; you saved us,” Ben replied.
“Well, as long as everyone's okay,” Matthew continued. There was a general murmuring and even Joe looked better for being free of his bonds.
“I was thinking we should take the Land Rovers,” Ben said, indicating the two large cars, “they're four-wheel drive; should be able to manage pretty much anything in our way.”
“And they're just like driving the Road Trains?” Carl asked, peering through the window.
Ben moved him aside and opened the driver’s side door. “I guess, well, sort of,” he said, checking over the interior. “And this one’s an automatic anyway; shouldn't be a problem.”
“What next, then?” Matthew said, taking charge once he was happy that everyone was safe.
“We really do need to go down the ladder,” Ben replied. “There are supplies and weapons down there that we can take.”
“Then lead the way,” Matthew said.
Ben went first down the ladder, tablet tucked into the back of his trousers as before, and called up to the others once he was standing safely in the lift. Carl went next, followed by Arian and Safran.
“I'll stay here,” Joe said to Matthew, peering down the lift shaft. “With my shoulder, there's no way I'll make that climb.”
“And I'll keep him company,” Mike added. “Me and tight dark spaces like that, no way.”
Matthew agreed and followed the others deeper into the laboratory.
As he climbed through the hatch into the lift, he found the others taking it all in, amazed at the damaged corridor lit by overhead lights. Ben had a pang of grief as he saw the bullet holes again, peppering the Excelsior logo next to the security desk. He had never learned what had happened to everyone else from the laboratory. It was as if the lab and everything inside it had been dragged to this other world, even the town of Garstang as different as it was, but none of the peo
ple. He didn't think that he would ever be able to make sense of it all.
“The stores are this way, armoury too,” he said to the others, a melancholy tone to his voice.
“I'm not sure if I said it already, but thank you,” Matthew said. “How are you holding up?”
“I didn't think that I'd ever be back here,” Ben replied. “It's where it all started, for me at least. We were supposed to be building something amazing. Now it's just full of bad memories.”
“Then let's get what we need and get out of here,” Matthew said.
Ben led them down through the stairwell into the habitat level. The stores were through the kitchen, shelves piled high with tins and packets of every description. “Gather enough for a week’s journey,” Matthew said to Carl and Safran, inspecting the goods.
“And chocolate, bring some chocolate,” Ben added, pointing to a box behind Carl's head.
Chocolate was a new one to Carl, but he shrugged his shoulders and added it to the growing pile.
The armoury was at the far end of the corridor, past all of the residences used by the scientists.
“It'll be locked,” Ben said, showing them the way, “but that shouldn't be a problem. It's not like anyone is around to stop us.”
Two shots from the commander’s pistol and the lock was destroyed, the door swinging open on a treasure trove of equipment. Matthew stood, amazed, unsure what to pick up first.
“Grab those bags,” he said, directing Arian, “and let's start loading up.”
The first bag was filled with weapons: six assault rifles, two shotguns, and a variety of pistols, along with box after box of ammunition.
“What next?” he asked Ben after dragging the bag into the corridor.
“Take these,” Ben said, adding a selection of torches and spare batteries to the second bag, “and check these out.”
Ben handed Matthew a pair of binoculars after putting them up to his own eyes. “Night vision,” he said. “Let you see in the dark.” Matthew added them to the bag along with a second pair.
“Have you any idea how much this is worth?” he asked Ben, clearly amazed. “It's too late though, now. Arian, please take that bag along to the storeroom and help Carl get it all together.”
Arian left Matthew and Ben to drag the overstuffed bags back along the corridor, a long length of paracord over Matthew’s shoulder to help get them up the lift shaft.
“Here, let me,” Carl said as he saw Ben struggling, lifting the bag almost effortlessly onto his shoulder.
“Thanks,” Ben said, catching his breath.
Before long, they were standing before the broken lift, Matthew adjusting the paracord to allow him to climb the ladder. “I'll go first,” he said. “Carl, you'll need to attach the bags once I lower the rope. Make sure it's good and tight, then Mike and I can pull them up.”
With the plan decided, Matthew ascended into the darkness.
“That's far enough,” Mike said as Matthew climbed back out into the cavern. He was leant against the Land Rover, the commander’s rifle pointed directly at Matthew’s chest. Joe was face down on the ground, a growing pool of blood beneath him.
“Mike, no, what happened?” Matthew said, raising his arms in surrender.
“I really wish you hadn't killed the soldiers,” Mike continued. “I didn't want to have to kill you. We could've just taken Ben and left, now that we know where this place is.”
“Mike, why?” Matthew asked, pleadingly, confused by the sudden turn of events. “You've been with me for years, back when my father was still alive. You're like family.”
“Family?” Mike scoffed. “No, those guys down there, even Ben, you treat them like family. Me, Joe, we're just muscle, always will be. Carry this, guard that. At some point I take a bullet, watching someone else's money, and for what? What do I get for it? Buried by the side of the Great Road, forgotten as soon as you move on. You telling me that's how you treat family?”
“You came to my house on the feast day, Mike,” Matthew reminded him. “I've never thought of you like that. Where is all this coming from?”
“No, no more talking,” Mike said. “I'm taking Ben out of here. Call him up.”
“You know I can't do that,” Matthew said, taking a cautious step towards him.
“See this gun here? I'm not asking!” Mike yelled, tucking it into his shoulder and aiming it at Matthew’s face.
With Mike focussing so intently on Matthew, he had failed to see Joe edge himself closer to the Land Rover. Reaching up, he pulled on Mikes trouser’s, distracting him. It was all the time Matthew needed.
Lunging forward, he grasped the rifle, pointing it away as it fired. The two men fought and struggled, trying to get the upper hand. Mike was bigger and stronger, but Matthew had the training and skills to overcome him. The rifle fired twice more before Mike stopped struggling and became limp. Matthew eased him to the floor, blood oozing from his chest.
Carl was suddenly leaning over the edge of the lift shaft, new pistol in his hand, surveying the carnage. “You okay, boss?” he asked, pulling himself the rest of the way up.
“Check Joe,” Matthew said, checking Mike's neck for a pulse. Carl did the same with Joe, shaking his head.
“He's dead,” Carl said, closing Joe's eyes.
“Same here,” Matthew replied.
Matthew shouted down to the others, reassuring them that everything was okay before helping Carl move the bodies. Before long, they had managed to pull up the three heavy bags, Safran demonstrating her skill with knots.
“What happened?” Arian asked once everyone was safely back in the cavern.
“Honestly?” Matthew replied. “I don't know, I don't know anything anymore.” Arian kissed him and held him close.
X
Mike and Joe were buried beside the dirt track that led to the laboratory; the soldiers too. “Do you want to say a few words?” Carl asked as they placed the last few stones.
Matthew stood and thought for a moment. “Joe,” he began, “you were a friend, a good man, and you always had my back. For that I'll be forever grateful.”
“Mike,” he hesitated, “Mike, I'm sorry. Whatever I did, however I failed you, I'm sorry. I just wish that I could take it all back.”
The bags were stowed in the back of the car and strapped to the roof. Ben found a large fuel can and instructed Carl how to siphon petrol from the other vehicles until it was full.
They set off just as the sun was setting, slow to begin with as Carl got used to the controls. The headlights were a marvel he could never have imagined, lighting the way and allowing him to keep going well into the night.
In the end, they took a few hours sleep inside the car, it being warmer and dryer than outside, and as the sun rose they turned south, towards Draxis, where their nightmare could finally end.