A Town Called Discovery

by R. R. Haywood

  ‘What’s that?’ Jen whispers.

  Zara shakes her head, staring down into dark shadows of the corridor. ‘Who is out on deployment?’

  ‘Just Bear and Thomas,’ Allie says.

  They frown and listen to a creaking sound that Zara, Sally and Allie know very well. The door handle to room seven. The one that creaks and needs fixing. The noise ends suddenly. A poise. A bunching of energy of something coming with an instinct hitting the five women.

  The handle turns fast with red laser lights shining out as black clad figures pour from the room into the corridor.

  ‘DOWN!’ Zara shouts the warning, her and Prisha snatching at the pistols on their hips as Allie, Jen and Sally dive away from the guns letting rip with both sides firing sudden and deafeningly loud.

  ‘GO!’ Prisha shouts to Sally and Jen. ‘GET OUT…GET LARS…’

  Zara fires back at the figures now diving into doorways for cover with muffled voices calling to each other. ‘Allie…get to Martha’s armoury for magazines…’

  ‘Here,’ Prisha throws a spare one from her belt to Zara, firing to give cover for Zara to change. She hits an attacker, making him scream out in agony as the wooden door frame and ceiling above her splinter with rounds coming back.

  ‘How the fuck?’ Allie mutters, crawling across the office towards Martha’s office.

  Sally and Jen make a run for it, lurching up to run for the stairwell door, prompting a fresh surge of firing with a round whipping past Prisha to hit Sally square in the back, sending her flying into a table of computers and monitors. Jen screams, turning to run back as bullets hit her chest and stomach with an impact that takes her off her feet.

  Bear spots the German trench ahead. The helmets within so distinctly different to those worn by the British.

  ‘WHAT ARE WE DOING?’ Thomas screams, seeing the trench coming closer and a whole big bunch of German soldiers staring in shock at the three men running away from their own comrades. ‘Ah, hell, this is gonna hurt…’ he lowers his head, screaming out to build speed to charge forward.

  Simmonds sees the trench right there. He’s made it. A medic from The Royal Army Medical Corp has charged to breach an enemy trench. That he will be dead within the next five seconds is also in his mind and he screams with Thomas, lowering his head as the three sail through the air over the heads of the Germans pressed into the wall of their trench. They land in a recess built into the far side. Thomas and Simmonds crumpling in a heap of arms and legs while Bear tries a deft roll but fucks it up and ends up slamming into several soldiers, bowling them over then he’s up, rising fast and back in the seven-sided room with a mind clear as his hands go to work.

  A soldier runs at him, intending to skewer him with the bayonet fixed to his rifle that Bear sidesteps and neatly pushes the soldier on, making him stab his mate instead. He grabs a knife from a belt and cuts the throat then backstabs into a chest before dropping to rise with a stab into a groin. Drop the knife. Grab a leg, snap the knee, dive and rise up, grab a head, snap the neck. Sidestep, take the blow from a heavy stick. Take the heavy stick. Hit back with the heavy stick.

  Thomas and Simmonds cry out, untangling themselves to stagger up with utter shock at what they just did. Both of them seeing Bear taking on a whole trench of angry Germans on his own. They look at each other. Both scared. Both terrified. Both nodding and roaring and running to fight to help Bear and do what they can. An American that fell from the sky and an exhausted medic that has no clue what is going on.

  The attack buys time. It breaks a chink in the armour and allows more British to reach the trench to dive down and into the melee, sliding down the banked walls to land and fight and only then do the Germans realise and send the call to alarm as men start rushing to fix the breach.

  ‘BLOW THE ROOMS…’ A voice from a black-clad figure shouts an order followed by a huge boom coming from room five as an explosive charge detonates, blowing the walls out with plaster, brick and debris flying through the air into the street and main office.

  ‘STOP…’ Allie shouts, pressed into Prisha’s side with a pistol now gripped in her hands. ‘We’ve got operatives deployed…please don’t do it!’

  Room four goes, exploding the walls out to render the thing useless as more bricks sail down into Main Street.

  ‘STAY BEHIND ME,’ Bear grabs Simmonds, pushing him into place.

  He sets off through the trench. His heavy stick in one hand. A snatched German pistol in the other. Chaos everywhere. British soldiers pouring over the lip to drop into the trench to press the attack none of them thought was possible. Bear fires into the face of a man lunging at him then wades forward, swinging the club left and right to batter a path.

  He spots the junction ahead and the thick lines of German soldiers pouring into the forward trenches. He looks left, seeing more British breaching the lines to charge in and down to fight.

  ‘Yes!’ he mutters to himself, seeing the bag hanging from a hook next to a dugout and rushes on towards it, whacking left and right. Clearing the way to the stick grenades. He grabs one, pulls the ceramic knobble hanging from a wire in the base that ignites the fuse within and chucks it inside the dugout. Another one, pull the wire, throw into the junction. The first one explodes. The second one explodes. He throws more, launching them ahead as he runs on, clearing a path of death and destruction.

  Jennifer dies slowly with blood frothing from her mouth. Sally dead and the situation worsening by the second with Prisha, Allie and Zara pinned in place listening to room six detonating. They can’t stop it from happening. The attackers are too many, too fierce and moving too fast. They’ll get to room one and sever the live link for Bear and Thomas. They’ll be trapped in 1917.

  ‘DOWN!’

  The three drop as the mortar hits the lip of the trench, blowing earth and men sky-high that rain back down in bloodied chunks. Carnage everywhere and the trenches clogged with men fighting hand to hand. They can’t get through and even if they did where can they go? Bear thinks fast, working out what to do. Going further into the German lines is too dangerous and going back to the British lines means being shot for desertion.

  He grabs Simmonds, heaving the man up to his feet to propel up and out of the trench, dragging the witless medic past skirmishing fighters.

  ‘Where we going?’ Thomas gasps.

  ‘Road,’ Bear shouts back, glancing up to see a speck of a black object dropping from the sky. He propels into Simmonds and Thomas, ripping both men off their feet into the deep mud of a crater as the shell hits where they were stood. On his feet a second later. Ears ringing. Eyes stinging. Throats burning.

  ‘GAS GAS GAS…’ a shout further away that rolls down and through with every man able to yell repeating the words. Some drop to start tugging gas masks on, others carry on fighting, unable to stop and take action.

  Bear doesn’t hesitate but runs on, dragging Simmons and Thomas behind him, forcing them to move with boots made heavy by the sticky clinging mud.

  He runs deeper into no man’s land, his eyes strobing the view while still hearing the shouting warning for gas but not seeing any sign of it.

  Thomas and Simmonds struggle to keep up, staggering instead of running. Their fitness way below Bear’s. Pain everywhere. In their legs, chests, heads and limbs. It goes on forever. It will never end but Bear can see the edge now. He can see the coils of barbed wire and runs at them, letting go of Thomas to stoop and grab the body of a dead German, dragging him through the mud. He bunches power, heaving the corpse over the coils of razor wire, using the cadaver as a bridge to cross to reach the bank where the three slide down to the rutted road they came in on.

  He gives them seconds to gain air. Mere seconds to ease their heartrates before grabbing them to keep going, heading back towards the town.

  ‘THERE!’

  They spin to look back, hearing the shout and cursing at the sight of the men pouring over the corpse bridge, not knowing if they’re Freedom operatives or British soldie
rs chasing deserters.

  At least two attackers killed but room six still blows out with a huge boom that seems to suck the air from the offices, creating a pressure wave that makes ears pop. Spent magazines litter the floor. Chaos and confusion as to what is happening and why.

  Marco races up the stairwell. The first to hear the noises and run for the planning offices. He bursts into the room, charging towards the armoury as the rounds slam into his torso, spinning him round to sprawl over Jennifer. Helmut a few metres behind him, running out then dropping straight back from the ferocity of the gunfire. Rounds hitting the walls and doors. Striking computers and smashing windows.

  ‘What the hell!’ Jacob shouts out, running from the stairwell as Helmut takes cover against the wall in the corridor.

  ‘They’re blowing the deployment rooms,’ Helmut shouts as Jacob risks a look then quickly snaps back from the rounds tearing chunks out of the doorframe and plastered walls.

  ‘Jacob!’ Pete calls, running into the landing as more Discovery operatives pour from restaurants and bars to sprint through the darkened town towards the planning office. Shouts in the air. Windows blowing out. Gunfire and explosions. A fireball coming from a first-floor window sending chunks of masonry into Main Street. People screaming in fear and trying to run away as the operatives aim for the noise and danger.

  ‘We need weapons,’ Helmut shouts from across the door to Jacob and Pete and the others rushing in.

  ‘The armoury’s in there,’ Keith yells back, pointing at the door.

  Jacob curses with frustration and impotence. A need to do something. To get inside and fight back but the glance he risked was enough to see the bodies gunned down inside.

  ‘The sheriff’s office!’ Pete calls out with a sudden idea. ‘Lars has weapons.’

  ‘Go!’ Helmut shouts as the next deployment room within the planning offices blows out.

  ‘STOP!’ Bear screams, holding his arms up over his head as he runs at the open-topped staff car filled with officers, making it brake hard to slew in the mud of the churned-up road.

  ‘What the bleedin’ hell you playin’ at?’ the sergeant at the wheel demands.

  ‘Why are you here?’ a man in the back demands, tall and broad with a thick handlebar moustache and flat cap wedged neatly on his head. Emblems and officer’s markings on his neatly pressed tunic.

  ‘Deserters I bet,’ the sergeant snaps, pushing the door open to jump out. ‘Watcha doing on the road? Running are ya?’ a thick London accent and the man looks tough, stalking at Bear as Thomas heaves for air, glancing back down the road.

  ‘Ain’t got time for this, Bear…’ the American gasps the words while Simmonds reels back, too confused to think.

  ‘I said why are you here?’ the tall officer demands.

  ‘Answer the general,’ the sergeant orders, pulling a service revolver from a holster that he aims at Bear.

  ‘Need your car…’

  ‘What?’

  Bear moves fast, leaning left while his hands blur up to snatch the pistol from the sergeant, his foot coming up to boot the man away, snapping the lanyard clipped to the pistol’s butt leading to his belt. ‘Need the car,’ Bear says again, aiming the gun at the officers in the car. ‘Drop your guns and get out…’

  ‘I’m the General, you fool!’

  Bear fires the gun, aiming past the General’s head but the noise is enough to get them moving. The furious officers tugging their belts holding their sidearms off as they jump out into the thick mud.

  ‘You’ll be dead within two hours,’ the General says calmly, staring daggers as Thomas grabs the belts and guns and drags Simmonds to the car. ‘Cowards…hear me? COWARDS…’

  ‘I’m not part of this…I’m not!’ Simmonds cries out. ‘Sirs…this is kidnap…it’s against my will it is…’

  ‘Get in,’ Thomas pushes him into the back as Bear gets into the driver’s seat, staring at the controls with a foul utterance spilling from his lips.

  A roar as the engine bites, making the wheels spin in the loose mud for a second before gaining traction as the shots come down the road, making the officers and sergeant dive for cover. Bear grips the wheel, grunting with the effort of turning the wheels without power-steering to help as Thomas and Simmonds duck in the back with the medic still claiming innocence.

  The car starts moving. Gaining speed and distance with Thomas risking a peep over the back seats to see the chasing men reaching the corner behind. They fire rifle shots, wild and un-aimed as Bear increases the speed, fish-tailing the car on the slick surface.

  ‘No way,’ Thomas mutters, shaking his head in disbelief at getting away. ‘No fucking way…we did it, dude,’ he grabs at Simmonds, pulling him close. ‘We saved your ass…’

  ‘I’ll be shot for treason,’ Simmonds wails.

  ‘Better than...’ Thomas stops talking to look back down the road then up into the sky at the biplane dropping down to level out with a clear motion. ‘Are you kidding me right now?’

  The plane lifts for a second, showing the underside and the big black Germanic cross on the wings then steadies to gain aim on the nice juicy staff officer’s car roaring down the road. ‘I hate this job…’ Thomas slams into Simmonds pushing him down into the footwell as Bear risks a glance over his shoulder, his mouth dropping open at the muzzle flashes of the machine gun on the German fighter showing clear.

  Rounds hit the bank, sending divots up as Bear twists the heavy wheel, forcing the car to slew left and right while pushing his foot hard down. The plane fires again, sending rounds mere feet in front of the vehicle. The pilot grinning like a fiend as he steadies the aircraft and drops a bit lower.

  Bear cries out when the seat next to him peppers with holes that go down the side and the biplane soars overhead, roaring with noise from the propellers. So low that Bear could jump up and touch the fixed wheels. He watches the road ahead, sparing glances up to the plane banking to make a run back as they reach the town and the sentries on duty aiming rifles at the car coming in too fast.

  They shout warning to stop. Firing shots into the air then aiming lower at the car as the plane opens up with its gun again, strafing the sentry position and the front of the car as it swooshes through, turning hard into the lanes and avenues of the ruined town. More shots ring out, hitting the car as men spot the General’s car obviously stolen by deserters.

  Zara cries out in frustration. Bear and Thomas are trapped. She can’t leave them. She can’t. She has to do something, and she stares at the door to room one.

  ‘Don’t do it,’ Prisha calls out.

  ‘They’re my team,’ Zara says firmly, rolling onto her back to change magazine in her pistol. ‘Cover me.’ She launches up to make a run as Prisha reacts on instinct and rises to run with Zara. Allie leans out, firing down the corridor to give what cover she can as the heat grows and the red lasers flash through the smoke-filled air.

  ‘FUCK YOU!’ Thomas screams, aiming the revolver at the biplane, his arm bucking with each shot taken while he stands in the back of the car driven at speed through the town to break free out onto the exit road. ‘YEAH MOTHERFUCKER,’ he yells as the plane roars overhead again, firing the last shot into the tail that makes absolutely no difference to the aircraft’s handling or flight. ‘Gimme another gun,’ he shouts at Simmonds.

  ‘I’m just a medic…’

  ‘Yeah and I’m a yank that fell from the sky and lives in a toaster…now give me another goddam gun.’

  ‘HE’S COMING BACK,’ Bear shouts from the front, twisting the wheel to keep the vehicle slewing side to side. Crazed and sickeningly violent but enough to stop the plane getting a firm bead in his sights.

  Thomas aims, closing one eye and trying to do what Bear does by breathing deeply while the plane roars closer, dropping down to level out.

  ‘Fuck,’ Bear mutters, ‘FUCK,’ he shouts. ‘FUCK!’ he screams as the plane comes at them, the guns opening up with that ratatat noise and the muzzle flashing as the rounds sta
rt hitting the road.

  Thomas fires and misses. He grunts, fires again and misses. He curses, pouts and fires a third that sails harmlessly past the plane. ‘Goddam it,’ he really focusses now, plucking the trigger to send the fourth bullet underneath the aircraft. ‘Ah, man,’ he takes a quick fifth shot that also misses. He tuts, frowns, scowls and fires the last shot overhead, sending the round through the underside into the pilot’s foot who screams out in agony, yanking over too hard.

  ‘Holy shit I got him,’ Thomas mutters. ‘BEAR, I GOT HIM…I SHOT THE PLANE…’ he grins manically, staring at the plane as it fights for control, dipping and rising before seeming to tip over and slam nose down into the road behind them with a soft dull thud that sounds out before the fuel ignites, sending a fireball scorching into the sky.

  ‘Did you do that?’ Bear asks, twisting to look round.

  ‘I shot a plane down!’ Thomas whoops in awe. ‘WATCH THE ROAD!’

  ‘Fuck!’ Bear wrenches the wheel over, turning away from the bank but going too hard, slewing the car over towards the other bank. They hit side on, bouncing off and the world around them spins and twirls. They hit the other side again with a bone-jarring crunch that sends Thomas and Simmonds up and out to land sprawling in the mud as Bear anchors on the brakes, bringing the heavy car to a stop to sit with his eyes squeezes closed and his head still spinning.

  ‘Bear? BEAR? YOU OKAY?’ Thomas yells, standing drunkenly in the mud.

  ‘I’m a medic,’ Simmonds whimpers.

  ‘Aw, hell no,’ Thomas shakes his head at the sight of a truck coming to a stop beyond the burning plane. Soldiers jumping out with rifles, going deep into the banked verges to get past the flames and heat. ‘BEAR! Gotta go, buddy…come on, up, up, up…’ he grabs at Simmonds, pulling him on yet again as Bear tries re-starting the car and curses loudly.