Sudden Death

  *

  The girl was running for her life.

  Her face was contorted into a mask of fear; she raced into the woodland ahead of her. Her cheap canvas shoes weren’t constructed for such a terrain and she slipped and fell a couple of times before the woodland had come into view. Her knees were grazed and the light wounds stung as sweat ran into the cuts. A bullet whistled past her head, its high velocity energy expended on a nearby tree trunk. Wood and bark exploded as the bullet tore into the tree. It made her cry out, and she slipped as she drastically took evasive action.

  She heard the men’s voices not far behind her. She had figured there had been four of them. But then, that didn’t matter. And even though they were a thousand yards behind her, she was still aware that they had high velocity rifles with telescopic sights.

  The girl raced into the woods, dodging behind the trees. Another slug whistled past her head and tore into a tree trunk as a rifle crack echoed across the estate. But she didn’t dare slow down or turn her head. She was too scared to, and she raced into the woods, head slightly down. She didn’t have a plan. Fear had dashed her powers to organise anything, so she ran directionless into the woodland, using the trees for what protection she could.

  The steep banking was covered in foliage. It made it hard to discern how solid it was, but it was a risk she had to take. To lose herself in the darkened density was the only hope she had. And even that carried a high level of uncertainty.

  Panic clouded her thoughts. She wasn’t sure where she was. She had no idea where she was geographically. They had drugged her back in the city. Then it was all dark and confusing. She had woken in a cold damp cell. How long she had been confined there was a mystery as she wasn’t sure what day or date it was. It was as if she was now running within a world that was unfamiliar to her. She had been alone and then turned loose, released into an unknown terrain. But the scratches on the wall and the earring on the harsh floor had told her that the cell had been occupied before. She had also found patches of dried blood on the mattress that her mysterious captors had given her. And that alone was enough to tell her that she was in danger.

  They had given her some money: a thousand pounds. The rules had been simple. You have five minutes to escape and then they come after her. If you escape, the money is yours. If you fail, you are dead.

  A thousand pounds.

  Her life was worth a mere thousand pounds.

  It didn’t feel like much in her urine stained jeans. It hardly bulked up the pouch in her specially constructed money belt. She cried in frustration as she ran. The very thought of how cheap her life had become filled her with despair: a grand for her life; a grand to spend if she was lucky enough to survive this madness, a terrifying world where she was pursued by murderous maniacs. Even a decent television set cost more than what she was worth. How absurd her pitiful existence had become, and now this!

  Tired and breathless, she threw herself down into a clump of weeds. Tears streaked her face as she saw the first of the group enter the woodland. Two men in combat jackets stopped and one of them pulled out some binoculars. He slung his rifle over his shoulder. Then he scanned the wood with slow, sweeping movements.

  The girl flattened herself against the damp ground, out of sight. She lay there prone, darting glances when she could. They seemed to deviate away as the others joined them. A sense of relief flooded into her mind. How she had got into this nightmare seemed so surreal. But then she had trusted this man called Mike.

  Mike.

  He had seemed so nice when he had taken her away from her foster home. He owned an expensive sports car and had treated her like a Princess for a month, had bought her some lovely clothes and had spent money on her like no one had ever done. They had visited expensive restaurants and beauticians and Mike had been ever so generous.

  And then one night, he had invited her to a party at this large mansion house. Everyone had seemed so posh and nice and then she had passed out. She had been drinking champagne and then she had felt drowsy. And then the room had spun, and as if someone had turned out all the lights, she had been plunged into darkness. How long she had been unconscious was anyone’s guess. She had no way of knowing how long she had been out. They had taken her watch from her. She wasn’t clear if she had lost hours or days.

  But the holding cell had been freezing and the cellar had been damp and smelled of death. And that was what she had first saw when she woke up. That cell.

  She acquainted death with the smell of decomposition, or rotting meat, and the stench had drifted into her prison. Where it came from, she wasn’t sure. But it was foul and sickly, and that is when they had come for her – those men. Wearing masks like the SAS wore, they took turns in feeling her up, groping her; sexually invading her by force. And then she was forcibly dragged outside and out into the sunshine.

  They had kept her semi-drugged and disorientated. They had given her a bundle of money, and had told her how the game worked.

  The rules had been brutal and simple.

  A nightmare!

  The sight of their guns had been enough to make her run. And five minutes had seemed like nothing before they began hunting her.

  Dirty and sweating, she peered up as she heard sounds approach. She parted some of the weed-like plants and blinked as two people came into view. It was two young women, perhaps a little older then her, but very casually dressed. She knew that one of the hunters that pursued her was a woman, but these looked innocent enough. These looked like they could help her. These didn’t look like part of the hunting party. And she felt safe.

  The girl crawled over and called out to Julia and Melissa. “Please, please help me!”

  Julia paused in mid-step. “What the hell?”

  Melissa flinched as the girl suddenly got to her feet and told them to run as she was being hunted. The frightened urgency in her voice was enough for Julia and Melissa to run with her.

  Voices cried out behind them. Someone had a whistle. It’s shrill, piercing cry tore through the woodland like a wounded beast.

  “Oh god, no – no!” exclaimed the girl in terror. “They’ve seen us!”

  The three of them ran. Julia tried to talk to the girl as they raced back towards the road where the VW was parked. But she couldn’t get anything rational or clear from her. It was just cries and pleading and disjointed sentences fuelled by panic. Through the heavy branches, they saw Mark and Tom talking, and called out to them.

  “Get the van – get the van started!” cried out Melissa with sheer panic in her voice.

  The two men stopped, their mouths open as the three women came racing towards them, evidently scared of something.

  “Who the hell is she?” asked Tom.

  “Later!” cried out Julia in blind terror. “Just get into the van!”

  They raced back and Mark fiddled with the lock and dragged open the door. Tom was racing round the front of the van as the girls opened the side door. As Julia got in, a shot rang out and the girl’s head seemed to explode. One second she was beside her, and the next it was as if a small charge had gone off inside her head. Melissa screamed as blood dashed her tee-shirt. Bone and brain fragments seemed to drench Julia and a sheet of blood sprayed across the side of the van. The girl dropped to the ground dead. Melissa didn’t stand around long enough to check. An exploding head was enough indication to give her an answer and she dived into the VW. Mark started the camper and was grateful that the old engine fired first time. Notoriously slow on acceleration, the VW did the best it could. Mark swung the van onto the road and floored the pedal.

  “What the fuck!” cursed Mark. “What the fuck was that all about?”

  Melissa started crying. Julia was visibly shaking. Both women lay on the floor of the van, spattered by the girl’s blood.

  Tom looked back as the diminishing hunters gathered behind them near the girl’s body. “Ge
t us out of here, Mark! Drive like fucking hell!”

  “I’m flooring it,” Mark said in his defence. “I’m doing the best I can.”

  Tom looked back as the hunters grew smaller as they made distance between them.

  Suddenly, one of the hunters walked casually into the centre of the woodland road. The figure got down on one knee and seemed to be taking aim. Tom swore and told Mark to swerve. Mark tried his best and threw the wheel one way and then another, banking the camper dangerously at one point.

  But the marksman was good.

  A single shot cut the peaceful woods. Then the VW lurched clumsily to the right.

  Mark wrestled with the wheel as the VW sank to one side as if its wheels were kicked from under it. Another shot rang out, and the VW instantly lost power. Mark struggled for all he was worth to keep the VW steady and looked for a safe place to stop. A grassy knoll came into view and he swung the VW onto it. The camper bucked and jacked its way to a halt and stalled. Mark opened the door and raced to the rear of the VW. He checked the damage. The rear tyre had been completely shot out. He saw that another high velocity bullet had also burst the engine block. Hot oil oozed out of the VW like a mechanical wound and formed a pool beneath the engine bay.

  Mark put his head in his hands and cursed.

  The Volkswagen was finished. Their journey had ended here.

  “Fucking bastards!” screamed Mark at the hunters, “you lousy, fucking arseholes!”

  Tom checked his mobile phone to call the police. But he could get no signal. This area was notoriously bad for some mobile phones. And Mark had no joy either, which wasn’t surprising since they were both on the same service.

  “Jesus wept!” cried Tom. “What the hell is happening?”

  The killers had assembled in the centre of the road behind them, around a quarter of a mile back. Sunshine had caught a jag of glass near one of the hunters. The man with the binoculars was checking them out. It didn’t take a keen mind to realise that the hunters now knew that there were four of them. Four witnesses to what they had brutally achieved. Four people who could testify against them in court if they escaped.

  Four people who now had to die.

  Mark suddenly took charge. “Everybody out!” Mark banged his hand against the side of the VW. “We need to find help and get the police. Come on!”

  It was a total chaos. Knives and forks fell to the floor. Bottles of water and beer rolled from the fridge as the two desperate women fought to get out. Then in a group, they all ran across the field as they abandoned the crippled VW. Over an edge, they ran towards a small copse at the far side of the field, trying hard to find cover in case another shot rang out. The ground was soft and damp. Their trainers and baseball boots wasn’t all that ideal for running along this type of ground. But they ran as fast as they could.

  “What happened back there,” panted Mark. “Who the hell are those people with guns?”

  Melissa was hysterical. She didn’t make any sense. It was as if she couldn’t speak.

  Julia said, “They were chasing the girl. It was like they were hunting her or something.”

  “Jesus,” said Tom. “They killed her in cold blood. Her head just blew up.”

  Mark risked a look back. They had reached the VW and were glancing about.

  “Let’s move!” cried Mark like an irascible US Army drill sergeant. “Let’s move it!”

  The four friends ran into a small section of woodland. Melissa had been lagging behind and was close to seeking cover from the first available tree when a single bullet tore through her chest.

  “Noooo!” cried Tom as his girlfriend fell forward to her knees. A rose of blood burst from her mouth as the bullet ruptured her aorta. She had been hit in the back and the force of the projectile had passed through her.

  She dropped to the ground, dead.

  Tom dropped down beside her, tears rushing his eyes. “Run, get the fuck out of here,” he said to Julia and Mark. “Just get moving. I’ll slow those murderous bastards down. Just get help! Go!”

  Julia was about to protest, but Mark understood his old friend’s logic. As a group of runners, they hadn’t a hope in hell out here, exposed in open country. The killers would simply pick them off with their high velocity rifles like fairground targets. Tom had given them hope, a chance to reach safety. The brave bastard was going to sacrifice himself for them. He was going to die for them.

  Mark dragged his screaming girlfriend over a fence. Julia was crying, but Mark had to get her away from here. He saw Tom pull out what looked like a knife and place it in his back pocket. And then he was gone as they ran on; out of view as they raced hand-in-hand across the field.

  Tom lay beside Melissa. He cradled her dead body in his arms. A narrow rivulet of blood trickled down the side of her mouth. Her eyes were open. Dead and staring blindly, he gently closed them and stroked her face. He was still holding her when the killers walked cautiously towards him, their rifles levelled at him. They all wore SAS-style masks, their eyes coldly intent upon their quarry. Tom gently lay Melissa down and slowly stood up to face them. Tom noticed that one of the killers was a woman. Her shape looked svelte and well curved in her fitted combat jacket

  “Who was the brave guy who killed my partner?” asked Tom coldly.

  “I did,” said the heavy set man nearest to him. His eyes seemed to narrow with sadistic mirth, his mouth forming an implacable grin. “It was a simple shot. And I enjoyed it, too.”

  Tom nodded coldly. Then he swiftly plunged the knife into the killer’s chest and twisted it.

  The man gave a grunt as Tom pulled the knife out and stuck it back in. Tom laughed inwardly as he saw his victim’s eyes close in agony and forge a screaming mouth behind the mask.

  He didn’t get the chance to plunge the knife in a third time. The killers saw to that.