The Shoebox Pursuit - Part 2 - Footsteps and Shadows
CHAPTER SIX
Billy roused from his slumber, rolling over to his side and opening his eyes. It wasn’t an unforeseen pain or a sequence of peculiar noises that brought him round. Instead it was his usual broken sleep pattern, a restless conglomeration of nightmares, hidden memories, and his far too common cold sweats that had woken him. He sat up and wiped his forehead dry - he was drenched, a common occurrence. His head felt unusually heavy, and an ache in his temples announced itself, sharply grating at him, but he shook it off.
The room was just as dark as when he had fallen asleep, more so in fact, due to the fire having completely burnt out. It took a long while for his eyes to adjust, but Billy was relieved to see Specks breathing, asleep on the sofa, though looking pale, even in this light. However, Charlie wasn’t where he expected him to be, and as he peered round the side of the chaise longue he could see that nor were Yankee and Doodle. Billy stood up, yawning and stretching himself awake properly, having slept in a somewhat awkward position. The boys weren’t anywhere in the room, and it was rather unlike them to scoot off without at least letting him know. Rubbing his sleepy head, he wandered into the hallway and called out.
‘Charlie?’ His voice bounced around the sparse hallway, but there was no reply. ‘Lads? You here?’ Again his call echoed across the way, but still there was nothing.
Billy poked his head through a few of the doorways and called out optimistic hollers, but it was useless. Wherever they were, they weren’t within earshot. He had no choice, so with one last check on Specks he decided to search the house. At random he picked a door from the multitude on offer and entered it.
For a long while he explored the mansion. Billy made his way from room to room, surrounded by dusty antiques, pictures of somewhat harsh looking people, and gothic, foul looking features facing him at every turn. The thunderstorm outside was still raging on, pounding against the building without compromise, resulting in the entire structure continuously aching and groaning from the assault. This only magnified the sheer creepiness of the house. His search was without direction, having never bothered to learn Charlie’s lessons about tracking, but he persisted nonetheless. He was about to give up and return to Specks, but just then he heard a click. He was already unnerved and jumpy from the storm, and as he spun round his eyes fell on a door slightly ajar. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought it was closed just moments ago. He reached for it, opened it full swing and entered the room.
To some extent it seemed like an anti-climax. There was nothing untoward in the room. The place was dark, with only a fraction of light protruding from a crack in the curtains, which were showing off a slither of light from the storm outside. But the room itself was just like the rest. A few grand features decorating the place, some creepy pictures hanging here and there, a rug which appeared to have once been some kind of large animal, and a red leather chair with its back facing Billy. He flicked the light switch, but as expected it didn’t work.
‘Another dead end,’ he muttered to himself.
Billy turned to leave but the door abruptly slammed shut by itself, plunging the room into almost complete darkness. Billy was instantly troubled, and tried the handle, but the door wouldn’t budge. He yanked it, until he snapped the thing off in his hands.
‘Nice move, Billy, you idiot!’ he remarked to himself, throwing the handle to the floor. ‘You killed the door.’
But then an unexpected voice spoke out from the darkness, sending a shiver down the length of Billy’s spine, freezing him to the spot and causing him to catch his breath.
‘Good evening, Billy,’ said the aloof, considered and perfectly enunciated English voice. Billy turned and looked back at the room, unnerved as to the whereabouts of the speaker. ‘Or perhaps you would better favour your modern day title, Private Random? Somewhat avant-garde, wouldn’t you agree? It’s amuses me so.’ Now he looked harder, squinting through the shadows, Billy could see someone, or at least some part of someone. Sure enough, resting on one of the arms of the red leather chair was an extraordinarily long and bony hand. ‘Come now. Take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. I insist. Surely you must be tired?’ Billy was unsure of what to do, confused by the ostensibly kind offer, but without his squad to back him up, he was feeling very alone indeed. ‘Please,’ persisted the voice, the hand gesturing towards a seat tucked in one of the corners of the room.
Reluctantly Billy sat himself in the chair, albeit barely, allowing his balance to remain firmly on his feet, in case he had the impulsive urge to attack, or an unexpected reason to dodge! Silence fell, and he waited, but for what he didn’t know. He tried to see the figure in the chair, but the unknown host was well hidden in the shadows of the room.
‘I take immense pleasure in storms such as this,’ said the voice, with a calmness like no other man would dare enjoy. ‘Reminds us all just what the gods are capable of, doesn’t it? Still, rumour has it, you’re not impartial to ripping a hole in the fabric of reality yourself!’ A disturbing laughter played out for a moment, and it seemed like it was in Billy’s head. He opened his mouth to speak, but for the first time in a long time he couldn’t find the courage to say anything. ‘Who am I?’ suggested the voice. ‘I presume that’s what you wish to ask. Isn’t it obvious? I am that which you seek. I suppose I am the crux of yours and your allies’ story. The entire purpose to these… Alpha-Omega missions you have so haplessly blundered upon. And mark my words, they are merely just another naive attempt to foil my plans. Pointless. Futile. Lame.’
‘It’s you. You’re… Sho…’ stuttered Billy, but the words wouldn’t come.
‘Yes, you are of course correct,’ replied the voice. ‘And here I am. Right before you. Ready for the taking. So forgive me for wondering why you don’t make your gallant strike, and seize me?’ There was a moment of quiet, an opportunity for Billy to speak up, to make his move, but he did nothing. ‘Go ahead. Be the hero. End the war.’ But Billy could not find the courage to attack. The sheer importance of the situation, coupled with the intensity that this figure extended, overwhelmed him. ‘Perhaps you rely on Charlie and your friends more than you allow yourself to know. After all, young Billy, you may not yet remember your past, but you must be able to feel your chronicles under your skin. Sense it unraveling before you, like an inescapable transcript. You, my boy, are living a tragedy. And it unfolds before you without mercy or choice or redemption.’ Billy swallowed hard. What did this man know about him? The usual feelings began to swamp him when posed with a threat - rage, wild energy, and blind-sightedness. His leg shifted as he struggled to contain himself. ‘I would suggest that it would be unwise to make any rash moves, Billy. One word from me and your missing comrades are dead men.’
He should have heeded his warning, but those final words were the last Billy could take. The mere idea that the people closest to him were at the hands of this character right in front of him besieged his senses. Reason and strategy were all but gone. Now there was only rage. Billy leapt from his chair, bounding towards the scoundrel. The figure remained seated, swiftly lifting a long cane and jabbing Billy precisely in the neck, taking him off guard and stopping him dead in his tracks. Instantly he fell to the floor, clutching at his throat and choking from the strike. In his own good time the shadowed figure stood up and casually circled Billy. His outline was incredibly distinct. He was ever so slight, unusually tall and angular in stature. But the darkness of the room allowed for no other detail to be revealed.
‘When I heard that you were here, that you had stumbled across yet another one of my little projects, I just had to come. I’ve been very eager to meet you in person. To see if the rumours were true.’ The man carefully lifted Billy’s metal arm with his cane, raising it into a better light and studying the apparatus. ‘It would appear you belong in this world as much as I do.’
‘You know nothing about me,’ snarled Billy, snatching his arm away.
‘True… in some ways. But then truth can be assumed from many angles. I do, however, need to see
if you really are as skilled as I’ve heard. It’s always important to know one’s enemy. Wouldn’t you agree? So, get up,’ the figure tapped him in the ribcage with the cane. ‘On your feet boy, or your friends are dead.’
Billy did as instructed - he had no choice. And he stood there, waiting whilst the villain circled him, sizing him up.
‘I know who you are,’ said Billy, with heart. ‘Charlie told me everything. I know your name.’
‘Did he now?’ replied the figure, leaning in. ‘Then say it,’ he whispered with malice. Billy could feel his blood boiling, searing his veins, his fists clenched and his heart pounded in his chest. ‘You aim to attack me. Very good. It’s precisely what I want. But know this, Billy Random, if you and your friends survive tonight, it is purely because I allow it.’
Billy didn’t tolerate another second to pass, heading straight for the attack, beginning as he meant to continue, full pelt with a spinning kick aimed directly at the villain’s head. But he was equally matched, and the rogue defended himself with the utmost of skill, rapidly blocking the kick with his cane, snapping the leg back down, and sending Billy off balance. But this character wasn’t going to give him a moment to think. Two sharp jabs to the stomach and a vicious swipe across the face sent Billy back to the floor. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. But he jumped to his feet and wiped himself clean, spitting as he growled. Without warning he lunged again. But the figure was incredible, unnatural, with speed like no other, casually moving out the way, and allowing Billy to slam into a chair and tumble over it.
‘You fight like a wild beast. Reckless and clumsy. So get up. Calm yourself. Then come at me again,’ ordered the villain.
Billy got to his feet, incensed with rage. He couldn’t control his anger, he never could, and this time was no exception. So he attacked without restraint. The shadows of the room made it hard to work out, but the fight was epic and skilled beyond belief, with a beautiful backdrop of lightning cracking through the window.
They had two very different fighting styles. Billy, young, eager, with unparalleled power, lunging forwards without thought, every blow like it would be his last. While his opponent took a far more casual approach, playing out each move with consideration, ease and precision, dancing his way through the brawl, maneuvering with absolute elegance. The pair blocked each other’s attacks, swiped and weaved with grace and speed, moving with the agility of cats and the ferociousness of wild beasts. Anyone else would have been killed by the other within a moment, but these two matched each other move for move. The villain’s cane must have been made of something unbelievably durable, as each of Billy’s blows with his metal arm were deflected by the object and thrown back at him tenfold. The fight played out like this for a good while, yet Billy couldn’t help but feel like he was being toyed with, studied like a project in the making.
‘I must say, quite impressive,’ began the figure. ‘But without the trained mind of Charlie to guide you, to hone such potentially remarkable skills, these talents are wasted on you. Make no mistake, Billy, whatever Charlie told you, he does not know as much as he likes to think. His ego betrays him.’ The pair continued to fight it out, moving around all the corners of the room, bouncing between the shadows. ‘My plans exceed whatever you could possibly imagine, and risk jeopardising the very fabric of what you’ve come to know as reality. From your perspective I am the bad guy, Billy. Charlie has taught you much. A great deal. But not nearly enough. You should fear me. And if you knew who I was, what I was capable of, what I have done, and what I will do, you would.’
‘You seem to be doing a lot of external dialoguing, which would probably be much better as internal monologue! Do you always talk this much trash? Cos your riddled sentences are kind of annoying,’ remarked Billy, sarcastically.
‘Sarcasm. Excellent.’
Billy pushed himself beyond his limits, moving faster and with more resolve than he ever had before. But he still couldn’t get a decent hit on his target. He wasn’t used to such even odds. ‘What do you want from me, anyway?’ he asked, his voice reflecting his anger.
‘At this point, I must admit to a lack of certainty. A personal indulgence, perhaps? Several stories that I’ve heard on the wind have turned my head, and opened up an interest. Seldom do I come across something I have not already seen in this world. But you are as unique as I. One might even go as far as to suggest an offer of ally, perhaps,’ replied the figure.
‘You’re insane,’ laughed Billy.
‘Insanity, my dear boy, is measured only by the opinion and perspective of the onlooker. It is biased and inaccurate.’
‘You’ll be lucky, I’d never join you.’
‘Of course you will.’ The figure took a few short steps back, allowing Billy some room to lunge once again, but it was purely another misdirection, permitting the fiend to beat him with an array of attacks. ‘You’re merely a baby in this world. How much do you recall? Six months? A year, perhaps? You’re ripe for the taking. Easily manipulated. Molded as others see fit. Just as Charlie has proven with you.’
‘Go to hell,’ snapped Billy. ‘Why don’t you just end this, and have done with me?’
‘Young Billy, why would I end one of the few things left in this world that actually holds my interest? Besides, it’s important for me to have people on the ground. Ready to act out my orders. You would prove very useful to me. And the rewards would be exceptional.’
At long last the figure made his final strikes. He spun round to the back of Billy, too quick to counteract. With the tip of his cane he hit five vital spots over his body. It was like turning off a machine, the result was instantaneous. Billy went limp and dropped like a dead weight to the floor. He lay there, breathing desperately, the pain severe, unable to move, whilst the figure leant in close, glaring at him, his callous grey eyes breaking through the darkness.
‘The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.’ He spoke in barely a whisper. ‘After tonight, Hitler and his army will keep you and the boys too busy to get near me again. The war is getting worse, Billy. And you and Charlie are wasting your skills chasing ghosts! Innocent people are dying whilst you all massage your egos with these ridiculous adventures you pursue. Give them up whilst there are still lives to be saved.’ He tapped Billy on his metal shoulder and stood up. ‘It was a pleasure to have dueled with you, Billy Random. But for now, I am needed elsewhere. I’ll be watching you very closely though, be sure of that. And when I find a use for you, I will come for you, and you will obey. But for now, give my regards to Charlie and the boys, if you actually manage to get out of this one alive.’ The door to the room opened by itself and the figure walked to it, stopping momentarily in the frame. His figure was lit up from the light in the hallway and he looked ever more wicked, his harsh angles and extreme structure making him look almost demonic. ‘Oh, and one last thing. If we ever have the fortune of fighting hand to hand again, it will not be a test. It will be your death.’
The figure slammed the end of the cane to the floor and nonchalantly strolled off into the confines of the house. He was gone. Billy was alone, paralysed, beaten. The enemy had exceeded his greatest efforts.