The Kirkfallen Stopwatch

by J. A. Henderson

  “I’ll do it.” Gene stood up and stepped out of the shadows. “Whatever you’re planning, I’ll do it.”

  “You stay exactly where you are young man.” Annie grabbed Gene by the scruff of his neck.

  “You can’t ask Mrs Watt to risk Millar, if you’re not prepared to risk me.” Gene retorted, slapping his mother’s hand away. “Anyway, what do you care?”

  “Don’t you say that!”

  “I’m a military experiment!” the boy shouted. “And you knew! You’ve been lying to me for years! Don’t you understand how I feel about that?”

  Annie and Edward looked at each other and Gene realised, to his horror, that they probably didn’t.

  “Baby, we were trying to protect you!” His mother finally blurted out.

  “How? By killing the Orbisons and putting the blame on me? You think I wouldn’t figure it out?”

  Gene waited in the forlorn hope that his mum and dad would deny it. But they simply hung their heads.

  “If that’s protecting me, I’d really prefer you didn’t anymore.” The boy’s voice became hard and flat. “If you want me to accept what you’ve done, you better make me part of it.”

  “No Edward.” Annie’s eyes sparkled with fury. “I won’t let this happen!”

  The others looked guiltily around, not wanting to be bystanders in this particular argument.

  “Millar is in the storage shed with the other kids.” Sonja pushed home her point. “Gene is right here.”

  “I’ve put my sister, my niece and my brother right in the firing line.” Colin moved behind Gene and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “I don’t care who goes, but someone better do it, and do it fast.”

  Annie Stapleton gave a quiet moan.

  “Dad.” Gene said. “Good or bad, this is my home. I want to help save my friends.”

  Edward knelt in front of Gene. His face twitched and he put a hand to his cheek to hide it.

  “Ok. Go get Fred Wolper.”

  53

  Kirkfallen Island

  Fred Wolper roared up to the soldiers guarding the helicopters and did a spectacular wheelie in the land buggy. Gene was crouched on the passenger seat, holding onto the roll bars above his head.

  “Wow!” he enthused, jumping from the vehicle onto the springy sea grass. “These are incredible!”

  He started towards the choppers, a look of near rapture on his face.

  “Oi! Oi!” Wolper leapt from the buggy and made after him. “I said you could look, that’s all. These men aren’t here to give these things a wash and polish – they’re guarding ‘em.”

  He gave the approaching soldiers an apologetic shrug.

  “He’s Commander Stapleton’s son. He’s never seen helicopters close up before, so the boss said he could have a quick peek.”

  Gene was trying to inch past the guards and Wolper gave him a slap on the back of the head.

  “Settle down, will you?”

  “Is that a pilot?” Gene waved his arms at a man in a jumpsuit standing in front of the nearest chopper. “Do you really fly this thing? It’s totally incredible!”

  The pilot strolled over, helmet under one arm.

  “You’ve never been in a helicopter?”

  “No, Sir.” Gene pushed past the soldiers. “But I’m gonna fly one of these someday.” He gave the airman a perfect salute and one or two of the guards laughed out loud.

  “You wanna see it properly?” The pilot asked laconically, secretly pleased by the attention.

  “Are you kidding me?” Gene’s jaw dropped open. “I’d die to look inside.”

  “C’mon then.” He turned and sauntered back towards the chopper. Fred Wolper went after them.

  “Don’t you touch anything. You hear me?” He took a few cautious steps and stopped. “Christ, these birds are impressive.”

  “Big, ain’t they?” One of the guards offered him a cigarette.

  “Been a while since I seen hardware like that.” Fred waved the offering away. “No thanks, I gave up.”

  The pilot climbed into the chopper cockpit and pulled Gene up after him.

  “Don’t go inside!” Wolper beckoned Gene back, but the boy wasn’t watching.

  “I’m like an old woman,” he explained to the guards. “But he’s the Commander’s son.”

  Inside the cockpit Gene plonked himself in the co-pilot’s seat.

  “This is the most exciting moment of my life!” He scanned the array of buttons and dials. “What does everything do? Where’s the ejector seat?”

  “Doesn’t need one,” the pilot said proudly. “This baby can fly rings round anything else in the sky.”

  “Mr Wolper.” Gene leaned out of the open cockpit door. “You have to come and see this!”

  “I don’t think that’s allowed,” Fred called back. “You be careful.”

  “Go on. Knock yourself out.” The guard with the cigarettes stepped back to let Fred Wolper through.

  “You sure?”

  “Fred! Come on!”

  “Yeah. Otherwise the kid’s gonna have a fit.”

  Fred moved slowly towards the chopper, two soldiers on either side. He reached the cockpit and ran his hand along the sliding door.

  “Man, this machinery is epic!”

  He stepped back in appreciation and slammed his elbow into the chest of the guard to his right. As the man crumpled, Fred gave a quick chop with his left and the other guard staggered away, clutching a broken nose.

  “What the…?” The pilot rose in his seat to see what was going on.

  Gene’s arm shot out, rigid fingers burying themselves in the man's throat. The pilot fell back, choking, into his seat.

  With one fluid movement, Wolper hauled himself into the cockpit and grabbed the pilot by the collar. He pulled hard and the man flew out of the door and landed on the grass outside. Fred slammed the door behind him and vaulted into the empty seat.

  The soldiers guarding the choppers were well trained. As Fred engaged the engines they ran towards the helicopter, unslinging their weapons and opening fire.

  Gene threw his arms over his face. Bullets thudded across the windscreen sending up showers of sparks.

  “Relax kid.” Fred grabbed the joystick. “This thing’s packing more armour than an Armadillo at a jousting match.”

  Above him the rotors began to spin. Gene lowered his arms. Other pilots were racing for their machines, one or two already climbing in.

  “Now where the hell are the guns?” Fred pulled back on the stick and the chopper rose slowly into the air.

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  “Kidding!” The man flicked a cover on the joystick and pressed down. Twin gouts of flame burst from either side of the cockpit. The soldiers dived for the ground as the earth was torn up around them.

  Fred pulled back on the stick and the chopper rose jerkily into the air. He pulled to one side, finger still on the button and the helicopter turned, almost leisurely, in a circle. Huge chunks of metal flew from the nearest choppers. He thumbed a few more switches on the console in front of him and pulled the joystick back. The chopper vaulted up, then hung in mid-air. Rockets whooshed from the bottom of the craft and four helicopters exploded on the ground.

  The last two choppers began to rise slowly. Gene thumped Fred’s shoulder, but the man seemed to have eyes in the back of his head.

  The craft swivelled in the air and headed straight for the other birds. One helicopter tried to evade the suicidal charge, nose-diving into the ground and bursting into flames. The other spun to return fire but it was too late. Fred released another rocket at point blank range and the chopper disintegrated.

  “And that’s all she wrote!” Wolper whooped.

  He pointed the copter at the ground and fired. The soldiers scattered in every direction, but not before twenty or so of the slowest were cut down.

  Gene clapped a hand over his mouth, trying not to retch.

  “Sorry lad. But this is what we do.” Fred
pulled a walkie talkie from his belt and held it to his head.

  “Commander Stapleton, all the birds are clipped and Gene is safe.” His voice was exultant. “You now have air support.”

  “Thank you Mr Wolper. Put my son on.”

  Gene grabbed the device and held it to his ear.

  “Dad?” He was close to tears. “This is horrible!”

  “Keep it together, boy.” Edward Stapleton’s voice was cold and calm. “It’s us or them. Unfortunately, that’s what it’s come down to. Put me back on to Fred.”

  Wolper reached out and snatched back the walkie talkie.

  “Boy’s fine, Commander.” He opened the throttle. “Now get the rest of the children to Jackson Head. We’ll cover you. Look after my girl, Gemma.”

  “Will do. You take care of Gene.”

  “You mean my co-pilot?” Fred grinned. “Don’t you worry. We’ll tear ‘em up, boss.”

  And they rose further into the air, Gene gripping the sides of his seat.

  Inside the storage shed, Deep Singh and Doug McCombie put their fingers to their lips. The children were huddled in one corner - the youngest clutched in the arms of their mothers.

  “We are about to play a little game.” Deep Sing winked at the children. “We are going to try and get right across the island without anybody stopping us. So you have to stay very, very quiet for as long as you can.”

  The children nodded. His wife, carrying their four year old son, smiled encouragingly.

  Doug McCombie slid aside a bale of hay, revealing a trapdoor underneath.

  “Been digging this tunnel for five years,” he said with obvious satisfaction. “I just knew we’d need it someday.”

  He pulled up the wooden flap, flakes of dirt and straw dancing in the air as it rose.

  “Mr Singh will go first.”

  “Lucky we eat a lot of carrots on Fallen,” his companion mumbled, vanishing into the dark hole like a magician’s rabbit in reverse.

  “The rest of you follow him. It’s a tight fit but it’s perfectly safe. Comes out behind one of the haybales. You wait till Mr Singh gives the all clear, then follow and we’ll make for Jackson head.”

  He clapped his hands like an enthusiastic scout leader.

  “This will be so exciting! None of you have ever been there before.”

  Bob McCombie raised a hand.

  “Yes, Bobby?”

  “What about all the new soldiers?”

  “Well, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but what the hey?” Doug beamed at his son. “They’re not soldiers, they’re actors. They’re shooting a movie on Kirkfallen. Can you believe it?”

  Judging by the look on Bob McCombie’s face, he certainly didn’t believe it. But his father’s enthusiasm had convinced most of the kids.

  “The plot is that the baddies are trying to stop a group of very special kids from escaping – that’s you lot. So they’ll come after us, but all your parents will fight them. It’s like we’re all extras.”

  “Are we getting paid for this?” Bob didn’t raise his hand this time.

  “Not unless you’re in the actor’s union. But you do get a trip in a giant helicopter to go see the mainland.”

  That was exciting. The older children began frantically whispering to each other.

  “There will be lots of guns going off and people getting knocked for six, but you just ignore all that.” Doug waved them towards the trapdoor. “All you have to do is run as fast as you can and don’t stop for anything.”

  His smile faltered.

  “Some of your parents might fall down like they’ve been shot, but that’s all part of the scene, so no need to worry. You just have to keep going. It all has to be done in one take.”

  “I can’t believe Poppy’s missing this,” Marcie Gold remarked, dryly. “She’d probably run in slow motion just to get noticed.”

  The children began to file into the hole, some tremulous with anticipation, one or two shaking with fear.

  Bob McCombie was in the middle. He stopped half way down and tapped his father on the leg.

  “Can you get on your radio and tell mum I love her?”

  “I will son.” Doug fought an overwhelming impulse to hug the boy. “And if Deep and I go down, you have to keep the others moving. Understand?”

  “If this was just a movie,” Bob said quietly. “You’d know already whether you make it or not.”

  “I need you to keep them moving, kiddo,” Doug repeated. “Do you understand?”

  “I understand,” his son replied tearfully.

  “Good boy.” Doug reached out to touch him but Bobby had vanished from sight.

  “I love you.”

  He hoped Bob had heard. The others filed silently past and lowered themselves into the hole.

  Doug shut the trapdoor and leaned heavily on his rifle. He heard a shuffle and his head shot round.

  Millar was standing with his back to a hay bale. His knuckles were white where they held onto the binding twine

  “What are you doing?” Get after the rest of them!”

  “I won’t go in there,” Millar whispered fearfully. “I have claustrophobia.”

  “What? It’s only thirty yards!”

  “I can’t go into a hole.” The teenager began to sob. “I just can’t!”

  “There are troops all the way round this shed, boy. I have to hold this place as long as possible. Make them think the children are still inside.”

  “I’ll stay with you,” Millar pleaded. “I can shoot. I’m a good shot.”

  “Don’t you get it? The tunnel is the only way out.”

  “I can’t go into a hole! Please! You can hold this place twice as long if I help you.”

  Doug slammed his hand against a wooden crate and Millar gave a squeak of fear. Then the man unholstered his pistol and handed it over.

  “I used to play football, when I was a kid.” His voice softened. “You know what they say in football?”

  “No,” the teenager replied tearfully. “There aren’t enough older kids on the island to make a team.”

  “They say the best defence is a good offence, that’s what they say.” Doug sighed.

  “So… New plan. We’re going out the front door. When I give the signal you run up the hill towards the scarecrow at the top. Don’t stop for anything.”

  “I won’t, Mr McCombie.”

  “It’s Doug. You’re a man now. Let’s go.”

  Millar sniffed and crept away.

  Doug looked longingly at the trapdoor. His only means of escape.

  “My God. Who knew being one of the good guys could be so hard?”

  He slammed a magazine into the breech and headed towards the door.

  54

  Kirkfallen Island

  In the quarantine room, Apathy was beginning to feel queasy. She lowered herself gingerly onto the bed, her legs trembling.

  The door flew open and Poppy Ainsworth burst in, radio in hand.

  “I need you to stay…” the girl stopped in mid-sentence. “You all right?”

  “I don’t feel very well. Maybe it was the injection the doctors gave me.”

  “They only took blood.” Poppy came over and placed a calloused hand on her companion’s forehead. “Jeez… you’re burning up.”

  There was a shout from the level below them, then a cry of pain.

  “What’s going on?”

  Poppy ran to the door and looked into the corridor. Apathy was startled to see a long knife tucked into the back of her belt.

  “Our parents are taking over the base!” she said with bated breath. “We’re all going to escape in one of the big helicopters!”

  She came back and knelt in front of Apathy.

  “Try to hold on. I’ll come for you when we’re ready to go. You can sit next to me on the chopper.” She slapped a large thigh. “We’re going to the mainland! I’ll be able to eat hot dogs, whatever they are, and go and see a Broadway show.”

  “That’s nice.
” Apathy tried to concentrate on what the girl was saying.

  “It’s wonderful! I’m going to get a job as an actress, soon as I get there.”

  “I can’t go.” Apathy let her head drop, exhausted. “I’ve got the same pheromone thing you do. Only, with me, they’re bad ones and they’re about to break loose. I can’t go near the mainland.”

  “But you can’t release bad pheromones!” Poppy recoiled. “All the other kids are on their way. The quarantine won’t work if they’re here.”

  “It’s fine.” Apathy waved her hand weakly. “None of you will be harmed. You’re all…” She struggled for the words. “You’re just like your parents.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You all have sociopathic personalities.” Apathy was too dizzy to be tactful. “I’m sorry if you didn’t know.”

  “Of course I know.” Poppy took a deep breath. “My parents told me about themselves a long time ago. I knew the history of this place long before Millar and Gene did.”

  She stood up and adopted a theatrical pose.

  “But my mum and dad said never to tell, and I’m an actress, so I know how to play dumb. The boys never suspected.”

  Apathy made a supreme effort. She pulled herself up on the bed and raised her head.

  “And doesn’t it bother you?”

  “Our parents have always been good to us.” Poppy checked the corridor again. “I don’t know if they act the way real people are supposed to, but none of the children have ever known anything else.”

  She closed the door quietly.

  “Sure, they’re only pretending to be regular folk. But they’re the Stopwatch Unit. They’re good at that. And they did it for their kids.”

  “Then it’s OK.” Apathy began to shudder. “When I release my pheromones, the soldiers will all go crazy and you’ll win. All the blood will be on my hands.”

  “But we’re not like our parents! Me, Gene and Millar, we love each other.”

  “Colin told me sociopathy is hereditary.” Apathy shook her head, trying to clear it. “How do you know what you really feel? You’ve nothing to go on except the others on this island.”

  Poppy swallowed hard.

  “I’m not willing to take that chance.” She pulled the knife from her belt.