Ewan retrieved the dental mirror from his pocket – standard equipment for Dr McCormick’s Underdogs – and poked it around the wall. Keith Tylor was between the overgrown bushes and the line of abandoned washing. The young woman was clutched in one of his arms, the muzzle of his assault rifle against her head.
You didn’t need a stand-off, Ewan thought towards Tylor. You could have abandoned her and leapt over the fence. Why are you keeping her with you? Who is she?
‘Mate,’ Ewan whispered, careful not to use Charlie’s name with an enemy nearby, ‘tell our friend the house is clear, then go with him to the back door. We need two angles on this guy.’
‘Got it.’
Charlie turned and ran, at surprising speed for such a short lad. His energy more than made up for his physique.
Ewan took gentle paces into the back garden, his assault rifle aimed towards the assassin.
If there was any panic in Tylor’s mind, none showed in his eyes. Alex and Charlie brushed the back door open, outnumbering Tylor three to one, and yet he stood with an air of authority that made Ewan deeply uncomfortable.
He caught a glimpse of the hostage’s dirtied face. It was so worn, he could barely decipher her age. She had looked like an adult from a distance, but on closer inspection she might only have been a year or two older than him.
But what on Earth was her story? Ewan doubted she had come from New London. Escape must have been literally impossible.
‘You know the drill, kids,’ said Tylor. ‘Guns down.’
‘Yeah,’ said Ewan, ‘because we’re easier to shoot when we’re unarmed. Not happening, Keith.’
‘The girl will die.’
‘And you’ll lose your human shield,’ said Charlie. ‘Try it, see what happens.’
Most people would have panicked. Not Tylor.
Alex turned on his feet and walked back into the house.
‘Hey!’ Ewan barked. ‘Where the hell are you going?’
‘There’s nothing more depressing than two teenage lads arguing over a girl. I’m heading for the road to check for stragglers.’
Ewan saw no reason to argue, but bit his lip as Alex left. Hopefully his teammate would have enough sense to call the other group and alert them.
‘Well, the smart un’s gone,’ said Tylor, tightening a forearm around his struggling hostage. ‘Guess I’m left with the retards.’
It shouldn’t have angered Ewan, but it did. The R word had been thrown at him by his enemies even before Oakenfold. Never mind that he was in a ‘mild-to-moderate’ class. Never mind that he was smart as hell in the battlefield. He would always be ‘special’, and would wear it like a tattoo until the day he died.
Tylor didn’t mean it personally. Bad guys use the R word all the time. He can’t possibly know what school we went to.
‘Two retards beat one any day!’ yelled Charlie, with emerging anger in his voice.
No Charlie, please not now…
‘Yeah,’ said Tylor, ‘if you’re fine with killing humans. And I dun’ think you are. Sure, you’ve took out more clones than you can count. Maybe literally. But killing me would be different, right?’
Tylor’s intense eyes looked straight into Ewan’s.
‘Right?’
Ewan did not let his face move. Did not let an eye twitch. But he could sense Charlie’s reaction at his side, as if he were trying to look unnatural with a weapon.
‘You’ve never killed a real guy before, have you?’ Tylor asked him.
‘Maybe. Maybe not.’
‘That means no.’
It means yes. Just once. But I was a different person back then, McCormick saved me…
Ewan’s brain became a wildfire of thoughts.
He’s in control and he knows it. Charlie’s getting angry, and the washing line must be distracting him too. He only needs to outwit me and…
‘You are not in charge,’ Tylor said, with the slow precision of an old-school headmaster. ‘I am in charge. And you will put the gun down.’
Authority had always been Ewan’s weakness, and it was alarming how quick Tylor had worked it out. He was in control, he was making demands, he…
‘Nope, we’re alone,’ said Alex, reappearing at the back door with a cool grin. ‘Now Keith, my dear numpty, why’s she still alive?’
‘What?’
‘You could have killed her and got away. Instead you got yourself trapped with no chance of escape, just for her. Why?’
‘I’ve been in worse messes than this.’
‘Then you’re a crap assassin. Answer the question.’
Keith Tylor, secondary assassin to the most powerful man on the planet, had lost his authority. But even then, his confident expression did not falter.
‘Who is she, Keith?’ Ewan asked.
‘You really have no idea, do you?’ Tylor answered with a small laugh.
Ewan supressed a shudder. He had never been talented at reading people, but Tylor’s face was transparent enough. He still planned to get out with his hostage. Perhaps even kill a few Underdogs on the way. He was capable of it too.
‘Wakey wakey Keith,’ said Charlie.
Tylor began to laugh.
‘A’right, I’m surprised she needs an introduction. Gentlemen, this lovely girl is Shannon Rose–’
It was like the sound of her name woke her up.
Shannon shrieked, and launched her fist towards Tylor’s face. Instead, she hit his neck.
But it was enough to silence him, and for his jugular to gush blood. When she reached back, Ewan saw the shard of window glass in her hand. Tylor stumbled, tried to re-aim his weapon, but did not detect Shannon stealing the hunting knife from his belt until it was plunged into his stomach.
Tylor screamed and fired wildly across the garden, unable to stop himself falling backwards onto the grass. There, Shannon held down his gun arm and began a frenzied attack with the knife.
Ewan could only watch in shock and relief as Tylor’s knife was thrust in and out, in and out, in and out of his torso, pepper-potting his chest as his yells faded. Even when he fell silent she kept stabbing, like she was trying to find something inside his body that was still alive just so she could kill it.
It continued for half a minute before Shannon’s screams turned to tears. She crawled away from Tylor’s lifeless body and began to quiver helplessly.
That’s what it’s like. When you kill a human and you’re not cut out for it. I could have told you that.
Nicholas Grant’s number two assassin lay dead from half a hundred stab wounds in somebody’s back garden. He had been killed by his hostage rather than fleeing to safety without her. It was time to see who she was.
‘Miss Rose,’ Ewan whispered, lowering his weapon. ‘You can trust us. We’re his enemies too.’
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her breathing accelerated, her hands slammed themselves over her face and she made pained, groaning noises.
‘Sorry Shannon,’ started Alex, ‘allow me to introduce us. We can’t use our names in the battlefield, but he’s Leader Guy, he’s Angry Guy and I’m Black Guy. There’s a bunch more Guys at home.’
‘“Angry Guy”?’ snarled Charlie. ‘What the hell…’
‘Couldn’t call you Black Guy, could I?’ answered Alex with a finger pointed to his face. ‘Had to call you something, mate.’
Charlie opened his mouth, but Ewan cut in just in time.
‘We can take you with us,’ he said to Shannon. ‘We’ll protect you.’
She fainted.
Ewan hadn’t seen it coming. Shannon Rose left the conversation and fell to the grass, as if someone had switched her off.
The others got over their surprise quickly. Ewan’s last sentences had grabbed their attention.
‘…With us?’ asked Alex, biting his lip.
‘She’ll get killed in New London!’ said Charlie.
‘Not there, guys. I’m pausing the mission. We’re taking her home.’
Ewan
did not check their faces for reactions. He was fixed on Shannon, trying to calculate how long she would take to carry. It would be dark in less than an hour.
‘Did you talk to the others?’
‘They’re coming,’ said Alex.
‘Good. The six of us can take turns carrying her home.’
‘Look mate, I’m all for helping her find her home, but–’
‘Does she look like she wants to go back?’
Alex shook his head in confusion.
‘I don’t get it, Ewan – it’s not like you to duck out of breaking and entering. You love ammo raids.’
‘This is a human life,’ came Ewan’s answer, or maybe McCormick’s words through his mouth. ‘Those are rare and precious these days.’
He could not stop his gaze from drifting to the dead body of Keith Tylor.
Rare and precious. Yeah, right.
‘Besides,’ he finished, ‘I need to know why Tylor wanted her so much. The ammunition will still be there tomorrow, but if we leave her now we lose her. We’re taking her to Spitfire’s Rise.’
Chapter 2
Kate’s brain was fighting itself again.
The stronger part of her knew she needed to stay in the clinic, but the rest of her was distracted by the dozens of places she would rather have been. Her mattress and the downstairs sofa were the front-runners. Unfortunately, the right thing to do was remain at Shannon’s side in the makeshift clinic.
Spitfire’s Rise was a comfortable enough place to live – certainly more comfortable than the prison at the centre of New London – but even comfortable places could be hotbeds of anxiety. Kate was in the safest place in Hertfordshire, the closest she had to a real home, and filled with dread anyway.
Everything about the night had been overwhelming. Meeting up with Ewan’s half of the team, and being greeted by Keith Tylor’s body. The hours of carrying Shannon home. What they had found on Tylor’s smartphone.
It hadn’t been a good night. But it had, because they’d discovered Shannon. In fact, it was a miracle.
But wow, miracles were mentally exhausting. And she wouldn’t be able to recover her energy any time soon, stuck next to Lorraine as she performed her observation.
‘I think that’s as far as we’re getting tonight,’ Lorraine said in her typical matter-of-fact voice. ‘She’ll be alright, though. She’s a strong girl.’
‘How do you know?’
‘For starters, she ran across the wild Hertfordshire countryside in bare feet.’
Kate looked at Shannon’s bandaged soles, and wondered how many hours she’d run for.
‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘I’ve been meaning to ask about that. Why would she–’
‘Ask the strike team if you want theories,’ answered Lorraine. ‘I’m just the nurse.’
Lorraine removed her thin vinyl gloves and poked her glasses back in place, with fingers that had aged far too much for a woman in her fifties. She was not ‘just’ the group’s nurse – her role was far too important for the word ‘just’ – but she knew there was no place for her in combat. Nonetheless, she fitted her own roles perfectly: unofficial grandmother, unpaid nurse, and uncompromising matriarch of Spitfire’s Rise.
Kate drew her attention back to the bed, and gave more thought to the mystery.
‘She’s not wearing anything warm,’ she said, ‘so whatever happened, she didn’t have time to prepare. And maybe Tylor took her shoes–’
‘All I know is that Shannon’s extremely brave,’ Lorraine interrupted. ‘She’ll recover, even if it takes time.’
‘You admire her, don’t you?’
‘She deserves it. Here, take a look at the notes I made.’
Lorraine reached into one of her trays, and retrieved a blank whiteboard and a marker. A couple of silent scribbles later, she handed it to Kate.
She’s awake.
Kate froze, glanced at Shannon’s body, but saw no signs for herself. Lorraine must have detected her confusion, because she wiped the board clean and wrote two more sentences.
Faints only last a few minutes. You carried her for hours.
She’s been pretending all night, thought Kate. That must’ve taken some stamina.
‘So yes,’ Lorraine finished, ‘there’s a reason to be positive.’
Lorraine looked right into Kate’s eyes, which made her twitch in discomfort, and then winked.
The wink could have meant anything. Maybe something was wrong and she didn’t want Shannon to know. Or maybe it was a general hint to talk positively around her. Or both, or neither. Kate preferred people to be specific, but Lorraine must have had no choice around listening ears.
‘Well,’ Kate said, trying her very best to be subtle, ‘I hope she can help us when she wakes up. Ewan found something on Tylor’s phone and I wonder if she knows…’
Lorraine raised a hand, and Kate’s voice stopped.
Did I do something wrong?
Lorraine wouldn’t have stopped me unless I’d made things worse.
Oh crap, I really am making Shannon worse. I shouldn’t be here. I…
Kate’s mind flew back to her list of places she wanted to be. The places she now needed to be. Her hands started to tingle, as if the blood had drained from them. Her head felt dizzy and the breath left her throat. She needed an escape from the snowballing list of everything to blame herself for, but knew she couldn’t get away with leaving the room.
Lorraine tapped a hand against her arm.
‘Could you do me a favour and fetch McCormick please?’ she asked with a smile. ‘He must have finished the meeting by now.’
Perhaps knowingly, Lorraine had blessed her with an escape route. Kate left the clinic without a word, and steadied herself on the landing next to the staircase.
It was another ‘nothing’ that had shaken her. Just her own mind and its usual habit of inventing problems. Nothing she said could have affected Shannon half as much as Tylor did. Shannon had bigger fish to fry, if that was the right phrase.
But that was the thing with anxiety disorders. They didn’t have to be rational.
‘Kate!’ came a shrill voice from the foot of the stairs.
Before she could react, an excitable nine-year-old was running full-pelt up the staircase towards her, using his hands as well as his feet.
‘Hey Thomas,’ Kate said, hoping she sounded happy enough, as the boy’s arms gripped around her waist like the hug of a bear cub. Time with Thomas was always valuable, even if Kate’s energy reserves were unprepared for it.
‘You didn’t say hi!’ he said. ‘When you got back, I mean.’
‘I was kind of distracted. Has McCormick told you?’
‘Yeah,’ said Thomas, pulling away from Kate to reveal his cheery, excitable face. ‘So there’s thirteen of us now?’
Oh, to be this boy. To only see the miracle, rather than all the questions it raises…
‘I guess so,’ she answered. ‘The meeting’s over now, right?’
‘Yep! It was interesting, you should’ve been there.’
‘I was helping Lorraine…’
Another housemate approached the stairs, his footsteps slow and steady. Kate let go of Thomas altogether, her anxiety almost subsided.
And there he was: the grand leader of the Underdogs. The commander of the United Kingdom’s final armed forces. A beacon of hope for the British people, in the form of a sixty-four-year-old man with glasses who fought a losing battle against hair loss. Dr Joseph McCormick strolled up the stairs as if he owned them, smiling like an old man who had kept his childhood with him.
‘How are you doing?’ he asked.
‘Fine,’ answered Kate.
‘That’s good. Thomas, it looks like your ears were switched off when I said the clinic was out of bounds. Downstairs please.’
The child headed for the staircase and vanished in a string of loud stomps. Once he was out of earshot, McCormick turned back to Kate and offered a warm smile.
‘How are you actually doin
g?’
He’s pretty perceptive for a maths lecturer, thought Kate. I guess you have to be when you lead an army of troubled teenagers.
‘Kate?’ he asked. ‘Are you alright?’
Kate couldn’t put an answer together. She stared open-mouthed for a couple of seconds, then shook her head.
‘That’s understandable,’ said McCormick. ‘It’s hardly been your average night, has it?’
Before Kate could answer, Lorraine opened the clinic door and started muttering to McCormick.
‘Since you’re spying on her, you might as well come in.’
‘So she’s ready?’ asked McCormick.
‘I think the last thing Shannon’s ready for is a chat with a complete stranger. Especially a man.’
‘I think he’ll do OK,’ Kate piped up. ‘He… has a good way with people.’
Kate hoped she wouldn’t be asked to elaborate. It was not the right moment to talk about her own recovery, and how McCormick had helped.
‘Well he’d better prove it,’ said Lorraine. ‘Joseph, I’ll knock your block off if you make her any worse.’
McCormick let out a discreet chuckle at Lorraine’s comment, as if she were joking.
‘I’ll be downstairs,’ Lorraine said as she walked, ‘keeping Thomas busy. Since he’s predictably interested.’
‘Thank you, Lorraine. I’ll take care of her.’
McCormick opened the clinic door and walked to Shannon’s bedside. Kate stood in the doorway, just in case he needed protecting.
Before the war, whoever had owned the house had used the clinic as a spare bedroom. That night, for the first time since the Underdogs moved in, it had begun to look like one again. The moment McCormick heard about Shannon he had sent a small group to decorate the clinic in preparation for her. There was a warm feel to the room now, with its walls covered in pictures and craftwork: a framed piece of artwork which read All You Need Is Love, a Keep Calm and Carry On poster from before the internet ruined it, and a homemade embroidered picture with the words Home Is Where The Family Is.
Kate shuddered. Thomas’ mum had made that last one, about a month before she died.
‘Good evening, Shannon,’ said McCormick.
No response. She was still pretending to be asleep.
Underdogs Page 2
