The Blizzard

NO-ONE else showed any concern as the carriage trundled blissfully on his way. And yet, Jack realised that this man Melody would not have revealed himself unless supremely confident all possible escape routes were closed.

  Saira was pale and silent, staring intently at the turnip-shaped head sat across from her. John Melody. The policeman determined to find her guilty for the murder of her therapist husband; who had learned of her previous wedding; who had agreed to marry her himself in order to secure her false confession. The man who died that same day. Except, he was clearly very much alive and somehow leading the hunt for her father-in-law.

  “It will be better if you remain exactly as you are,” the big man bared his teeth as he smiled coldly. “You can’t see them, but the train is well covered with my best people. The train will arrive at its destination in 18 minutes but in four minutes there will be an unscheduled stop. At that point, we will exit and you will follow.”

  “And if we refuse?” Jack couldn’t help himself.

  “While you are all needed alive for the time being, I have been given no instructions regarding your health and wellbeing. It is best for you if you comply.”

  The silence was a tacit agreement.

  “Since we have a few moments. I feel that each of you owes me an explanation about certain things.”

  “No.” Strang looked at the mottled beast with unblinking eyes. “It is you, who owes us the explanation. About what this is all about? About why your employer wants me dead.”

  “This has been a very good and interesting chase Mr Strang, you’ve done very well. Much better than I dared to hope. I’m afraid I can’t offer you the insight into my employer’s thinking. But yes, yes, I don’t have any problem explaining what good entertainment you provided. Based on our conversation, I thought you would be dead much sooner. But then perhaps you’ve had some help, haven’t you? Don’t worry you’ll be telling me all about it later on. We’re going to have several nice, long conversations once we’ve reached our destination.”

  Seeing Jack start at these words as if ready to strike, the giant turned towards the youth then, laughing, back to the father.

  “Your boy has also led my staff on a merry chase ever since Berlin. I had sent one of my best Butlers to take him back. Don’t worry lad, nothing bad will happen to you. It’s a shame that you didn’t get a chance to meet Thomas because he’s a very committed man. Unfortunately, he had a few problems with his false hand, which caused you to panic didn’t it. The hand had an unusual attachment, a needle containing a sedative, I forget the name of which. And Thomas, so committed, he was so keen to take up his assignment to bring you hope that he volunteered to have his healthy hand removed it, so as to be able to sedate you. Needless to say, he is looking forward to finally making your acquaintance.”

  Jack shuddered, remembering the gleam of metal beneath the Butler’s glog. The sharp edges where fingers should have been. But their captor had already turned to the woman in the corner of the table.

  “And you, my dear Saira. How well you are looking. Wherever you’ve been hiding, it’s obviously agreed with you. I must say that I was a bit hurt when you decided to leave so soon after wedding, sadder yet that you left me dying in hospital.”

  “Yes John, I see the doctors gave you better care than I was led to believe.”

  The mottled blotches of skin darkened as Melody responded angrily. “I suppose you believed you acted properly by giving me fair warning about your particular problem.”

  “You were dead. Your men – the prison officers – they all told me you had died!”

  “And they were right in their way,” Melody had reined in his anger. “After so many of your husbands had died, I was too thought that would be my fate as I lay on collapsed on the floor.”

  “So how did you –”

  “He saved me from death - and has provided me with insight and opportunities not afforded in my previous life.”

  “Who did? What are you talking abou-”

  There was a high-pitched wail as the carriage juddered. Jack and Saira dropped their bags. The train pulled to a halt. Melody rose to his towering height, staring at the trio as they picked themselves from the seats. He pointed to the end of the carriage and waited until they started to move, bringing up the rear.

  “But it looks like we’ll have to start moving. Leave those there,” he commanded.

  As they exited, a man was already standing by the door, dressed as Melody was, in a stiff blue collar, black knotted tie and black tail coat. Nodding to the larger man, he pulled the handle on the door and swung it open. Jack and Saira were forced out first of all, followed by Strang then the two other Butlers. Whatever had happened to halt the service, no-one appeared to notice the open door or the impromptu departure.

  They had halted at the very cusp of the bridge. Even compared to the towers of Media, the structure rising ahead of them was monumental, Jack thought.

  Were it not for the colossal scale, the complex framework, with its interlinking struts and columns, looked like it could have been a child’s toy. Sheets of thick plastic straddled the framework. The never-ending, year-long task of painting that his father had described was beginning anew.

  The coat-tailed man in front pointed to a nearby siding, and walked ahead of them, looking left and right as he went. Melody continued to stay back, glowering at his prisoners with wolfish superiority as they stumbled across the tracks. Jack felt his heart shrink. Once taken into custody by these capable men, they would be entirely at their mercy. It was most likely that they would die in secrecy without anyone being the wiser.

  Something Melody said was echoing in his mind.

  Saira had thought he was dead. But he had not died. Someone had offered him the chance to live. Jack thought about his own marriage to Saira, the night he had spent in the building site, suffering as he dreamt his strange dream.

  The shark’s gut. Something about it had allowed him to drive out the evil thoughts that might have overwhelmed him. Melody, too, should have died but didn’t. Had he succumbed to the darkness somehow still surviving, allowing it to control him?

  Carefully, Jack allowed his hand to slip down to the pocket of his trousers. He felt the rounded surface of the glass bottle with perhaps just a few drops left inside?

  A steep path ran from the edge of the tracks to the road below where a security cab was waiting. Four sturdy horses stamped their feet impatiently. A clanking sound and the crackle of electricity drew everyone’s attention to the beached locomotive. Power had been restored. The train slowly picked up speed, blue sparks spitting from the overhead conduit, as it pulled away towards the bridge.

  Taking his father’s shoulder with his left arm, Jack shielded his body from view and he drew out the vial with his other hand. He snatched a glance at the bottle in his hand. A few drops clung to the bottom, perhaps just enough to do what was necessary.

  “Down,” Melody commanded once power, pointing towards the sloping path. Saira started to lead the way but the smaller, suited man stopped her, pushing his way in front. But the slippery grass provided no support for the Butler’s leather shoes. As he started to fall, Melody surged forward to catch his stricken colleague. Recognising his chance, Jack leapt forward brandishing the glass bottle but to his amazement a muscle-knotted hand caught his neck. Steel-like fingers closed over his throat. Melody held him firm, even as he continued to support his fallen man. But Jack still had the bottle. Choking in spite of the pain he managed to turn over the vial, its contents ebbing so slowly from the lip of the container that they appeared frozen in time. Before the behemoth could see what was happening, a thick globule of the fish gut had fallen onto his thick, red cheek.

  Releasing his grasp of both Jack and his unsteady colleague, the giant fell to the floor, holding his head in his hands as if it was being eaten by stinging fire. No longer supported, the smaller man had no choice but to continue
his descent down the mud caked slope. From their vantage point, Jack, Saira and Strang could see the doors of the carriage spring open and two men in tails leap out.

  Perhaps it was the adrenaline which was delivering the instructions to his brain, but Jack suddenly felt very certain about what he had to do.

  “Saira, take dad! Go across the tracks and down the other side, if you can. I’ll draw them away. Go down into the beach and hide somewhere safe.”

  Before she could argue, Jack ran to the edge of the barrier, calling and waving his arms at the men in the carriage below. As soon as they saw him, he headed towards the bridge; its triangular forms began to fill up more of the horizon.

  Turning, his wife and father were now clearing the other side of the tracks where they would reach the pebble-clad beach and its black waters. It wasn’t much of a plan, he acknowledged. If the men followed him, it would at least give his family a fighting chance.

  The girders now branched above him like the bones of a long-deceased monster. His attention was drawn to a set of steps, which ran parallel to the train tracks. There were men up above working on steel struts, carefully pumping jet red spray onto the surface. If he could draw their attention, the Butlers might think twice about seizing him. Two tail-coated figures, their white collars gleaming in the sunlight, were approaching him in the distance. They were not running. Although they were visible, he was creating distance between them.

  Darting to the side, he grasped the first set of rungs, scrambling the slanted struts. He could see the workers clearly now, their yellow jerkins clear against the dull metal. Clambering further up the rungs, he yelled for help. There was no response. His pursuers were now at the foot of the ladder but did not ascend.

  Instead they leant over the barrier staring at the shore – and signalling with their flags. Jack could not make out their call-sign but followed their gaze towards the coastline, where the distant but unmistakeable figures of Saira and his father were stumbling over the rocks. Through the grass flecked sand dunes, other figures were heading towards them. Suited Butlers weaving through the foliage. Three, four bodies on one side, another six were ahead of the struggling pair and would soon cut them off.

  In desperation, Jack turned and called once again to the men working in the struts above him. The nearest of them lifted his head, acknowledging the sound over the soaring wind. Spotting Jack, he gestured to his colleague and both started to edge across the scaffold towards him. But as they drew near, Jack could make out the crisp, starched collars and the trailing tails bulging from beneath their work jackets.

  Their expressions were marked with detached determination.

  Trapped on both sides, Jack had no choice but to continue his climb.

  He heaved his body up the rungs, hands and feet working harder than they ever had ever done. His efforts appeared to be paying off. The bogus workmen followed but were moving in slow-motion in comparison to his frantic ascent.

  The wind whipped at his face as he climbed. The water below was dark and fathomless. The lonely dots on the shore which he knew were his wife and father were being joined by others.

  Sensing his fear, the two Butlers - who had now removed their jackets – were matching his efforts. Their prey was not going to get away. They walked unsupported and upright, balancing their steps along the struts, and they were now closing the distance. Ahead of him two more Butlers stepped from a service lift ahead.

  Shakily Jack stood upright, eyeing the men now on both sides of him. There was cold satisfaction in their eyes. The wind was burning his face. He was not going to give himself up. Whatever they wanted from him, he would deny. If he was to die, it would be now.

  Surging forward, the teenager took the first fake workman by surprise, colliding with him under his shoulder. The pair struggled on the edge, teetering for a moment before continuing into beyond.

  At first, all Jack could hear was the silence. Someone was shouting his name. Was it Saira? The black sea, marbled with foam, was drawing closer. The rush of air on his face was exhilarating, intoxicating. He felt dizzy and light-headed as the curls of white grew bigger and more distinct in the grey mass of water. He waited for the impact and the final eruption of darkness, the wave of euphoria that was so welcome…

  But then the waves got no bigger. His arms jerked and groaned with the sudden sensation of being pulled out of their sockets. His body was now moving in the wrong direction. His wrists burn as if clasped with white hot iron. He looked up.

  Zarius. His radiant wings coloured gold behind the low sun.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE