Jason Willow: Face Your Demons

by G Mottram

  Then Marakoff was suddenly beside him, one hand clamping over his mouth and easing them both down into a low crouch.

  ‘Patrol,’ Marakoff whispered in Jason’s ear and slowly released his hand.

  Jason slowed his breathing and peered into the darkness between the trees. He couldn’t see any movement at all but a faint rustling of branches reached him over the gentle leaf-drip of drizzle.

  ‘Lie flat. Ease down onto every twig beneath you,’ Marakoff whispered in his ear again and they both slowly stretched out onto the damp, rich loam of the forest floor.

  A moment later, perhaps twenty feet away, two large figures stepped quickly through a slash of cloud-busting moonlight then disappeared again.

  Jason raised his head to make sure they’d gone but Marakoff pushed it down. ‘Wait for their tail.’

  Wondering what Marakoff was talking about, Jason kept his head down. They waited for another thirty seconds or so before Jason heard a rustle slightly out of time with the wind-stirred branches but he couldn’t see anything. The waiting made his blood freeze and he tried to keep his breathing calm. The smell of earth filled his nostrils while its cool dampness soaked into the bone of his half buried chin.

  Still Marakoff made them wait. One, two more minutes passed.

  At last he tapped Jason’s forearm and they eased themselves to their feet. ‘Cadaveril has trained the guards well, I think.’

  ‘What were you talking about just then – wait for their tail?’ Jason whispered, still unnerved by the guard’s passing.

  ‘The tail is a third guard, often trained by a ghost. He parallels the more obvious patrol a little way behind… to catch the unwary or add surprise crossfire should they find trouble.’

  ‘I didn’t see a third man,’ Jason said. All this invisible ninja stuff made his own powers seem useless.

  ‘I am not surprised, she was very good and passed only ten metres behind us. Now stay close to me this time.’

  Marakoff seemed to almost ice-skate up the wooded valley side while Jason struggled after him feeling like a ballet dancing rhinoceros. Finally they reached the top of the slope where the trees abruptly stopped. Marakoff signalled and they crawled on their bellies to the very edge of the tree line where they could study Darkston Abbey’s defences starting just ten metres down the far slope.

  It was like a Russian border crossing from the Cold War days. Anyone looking up from outside the abbey grounds would only see an ancient, fifteen foot high, dry-stone wall, albeit topped with razor wire and punctuated every hundred metres with stone watchtowers mounted with spotlights.

  The wall, however, was only the start of the defences.

  Should anyone manage to get over the wall and wire, they would find themselves in six or seven metres of no-man’s land between the back of the wall and a second perimeter – a steel posted fence, three metres high and overhung with more razor wire – this time electrified, judging by the warning signs. Incredibly, other little red-on-white signs warned of landmines between the fence and the wall.

  Marakoff touched Jason’s shoulder and slowly pointed out cameras in the wall and in the trees to either side of them.

  He whispered in Jason’s ear. ‘Heat and movement detectors scan most of the no-man’s land. The moment anything is detected the whole section is floodlit. The watchtowers are each manned twenty four hours a day by one guard equipped with a heavy machine gun and a laser-sighted sniper rifle. There are also, I believe, some small rocket launchers hidden inside.’

  ‘Great. So how do we get out – air steps?’ Jason whispered.

  ‘A good thought. At perhaps ten feet above the ground we could avoid the heat sensors but the movement detectors would very much like your support columns. Also the watchtower guards would enjoy the show I think – until they shot us down. If we were unlucky, perhaps we’d also explode a land mine, yes?’

  Jason scowled. The rain was getting heavier now, dripping on to his neck and trickling down his back like someone else’s cold sweat. This was looking hopeless.

  ‘What then – air-blast the fence, the towers, the wall and set off a path through the mines?’

  ‘Possible – with a few weeks’ more training for you – but still a little noisy, I think. I suspect we’d have a small army and a number of Gifted teams joining us before we were very far beyond the wall.’

  ‘Okay…’ Jason mused, staring up and down the barrier to freedom. ‘but there aren’t that many Gifted here, so perhaps…’

  ‘Ah – I am afraid that is no longer true. Brash has trained many teams over all the years he has been here in the abbey. Perhaps it is just a lucky coincidence that a number of them were here for the training exercise. Then again, perhaps this emergency was a little more planned than it would at first appear.’

  Jason stared at him for a moment more then went back to examining the no-man’s land. ‘So how are we going to get across?’

  ‘Well, somehow the guards have to walk into their watchtowers, yes?’

  ‘And you know how?’

  ‘It is, as you would say, my job to know such things.’

  ‘So tell me,’ Jason said. He was getting cramp, lying flat out on the damp ground.

  Marakoff held up a pacifying hand. ‘All in good time, yes? First we must tell your father we are about to leave.’

  ‘Dad? Is he out there? How are you going to reach him - mobiles don’t work in the valley do they?’ Jason asked.

  ‘Your father is hiding in the village and I will use this,’ Marakoff answered, pulling out a radio no bigger than a flip phone.

  Jason felt a tug in his stomach. Somewhere on the other side of the wall, Dad was waiting for him. He swallowed a lump in his throat and concentrated on Marakoff. ‘Hey – isn’t that one of the walkie-talkies we used to play spies with?’ Jason asked.

  ‘Indeed – old technology now but they are still very sophisticated toys. The messages are scrambled on alternating frequencies as they are transmitted.’

  ‘Won’t security pick up anything?’

  ‘Without a computer decoder and several hours all they would hear is interference… I hope.’ Marakoff winked at him and pressed the transmit button.

  ‘Hello, Richard…’ he began.

  And then all hell broke loose.

  Chapter 22

  Instantly Marakoff pulled Jason down and they squirmed further back into the trees.

  Then they froze, each lying flat with their heads pressed against a tree trunk to break any silhouette. Slowly Marakoff allowed Jason to raise his head and squint out at the wall’s defences.

  Sirens wailed, piercing through Jason’s head and making it impossible to think clearly. Searchlights from the towers burst in to life, sweeping the ground outside the walls.

  Why were the lights focused outside the walls?

  ‘It was not my radio,’ Marakoff whispered right in his ear so as to be heard through the sirens, ‘they are not searching for us. The Brethren must be here.’

  Jason turned to face Marakoff whose features were no more than a slightly less dark shadow under the trees. ‘If they attack now it might give us the cover we need to get out.’

  ‘That would be too high a risk to take, I am afraid. We do not know how many Brethren are out there or where they are.’

  ‘So what do we do – stay in the woods and wait to see who wins?’ Jason hissed through the noise wailing through his head.

  Marakoff pushed him down low again. A moment later a covered truck thundered in from their right. It barely slowed down in front of the nearest watchtower before a guard leapt out and the truck accelerated away again.

  The guard rushed over to stand by the fence. There was no visible gate but suddenly a three foot section of the wire pulled out of the ground and concertinaed itself up to create a door-sized hole. Bright red lights burned into life just below the soil to show a zigzag path across the minefield to the base of the watch tower.

  The guard stepped through the gap and carefully
followed the light path to the tower. The wire section whirred down, the path lights winked out and the man disappeared inside a steel door.

  ‘Reinforcements for the tower - the attack will be heavy, I think,’ Marakoff said.

  As if to back up his judgement, two small explosions sounded in the middle distance - perhaps only a mile away. Three more followed. The guard manning the tower-top searchlight in front of them swung the beam quickly to the right and it bounced back from a billowing cloud of white smoke.

  ‘The Brethren are using smoke grenades to cover their assault,’ Marakoff explained quietly. ‘We will have to return to the abbey. We are too exposed out here. Back to your room, I am afraid.’

  ‘What? We can’t go back. What about Dad? He’s waiting out there for us…’

  ‘Your father can look after himself very well indeed. We agreed, should an attack happen before you and I escaped, we’d stay inside the abbey grounds.’

  ‘So what’s Dad going to do?’

  ‘If the Brethren break into the abbey, he will follow them through and find us. Otherwise we will try to leave at the same time tomorrow night.’

  A dozen or more small explosions burst out of bright flashes on the other side of the wall. They were getting closer. The sirens finally faded out and Jason heard the rattle of machine gun fire from the towers some way along the wall.

  ‘Jesus – they’re almost here.’

  ‘Put this in your shoe.’ Marakoff pulled out a piece of plastic a quarter of the size of a credit card. ‘It will help your father to find you if you have to leave your Cloister 5 position. I will be close by.’

  ‘Aren’t you staying with me?’ Jason asked.

  ‘No. I am not sure Brash believes my story - I think perhaps my identity pin will be sending an… unfriendly signal. I will have to leave it behind and stay out of sight.’

  Jason flinched as more explosions echoed through the night. The searchlights blazing down from the tower tops now lit up a solid bank of smoke rising above the walls. Wire-thin red lasers pierced the smoke and the powerful crack of a sniper rifles spat out their first shots.

  ‘We have to be quick now,’ Marakoff whispered. ‘Back to your room for your pin first – otherwise they will shoot you before ever you get near to your little hiding place in the cloister.’

  Quickly Marakoff backed them deeper into the dark of the wood where they got to their feet and dashed down the valley side. Marakoff must have been depending on the patrols all being either at the walls or taking positions around the abbey. Jason hoped he was right. Although Marakoff was still almost undetectable at this speed, Jason’s legs and arms seemed to rustle and crack against every branch and fallen twig in existence.

  They made it to the forest edge and stopped to stare across the floodlit lawn to the dark bulk of the guest house. Rain still drizzled down, glistening silver in the bright lights.

  Marakoff grasped Jason by the shoulders. ‘Only use your Gift if your life depends on it – Touched and demons can sense the zephyr just as Gifted can – the strength of your powers will lead them straight to you. Now – back to your room the same way as you got out.’

  ‘You just said don’t use my Gift.’

  ‘They are not close enough yet to feel the small uses of your Gift. Now go – you may have already been called to the cloister.’

  ‘Right… uhh, thanks and, you know, be careful.’

  Marakoff nodded and turned him around to face the guesthouse. ‘Go. I will always be near you.’

  Jason formed his first air-step in the shadows of the tree line. He felt numb - none of this seemed to be really happening. Some time tonight the abbey might be filled with men and monsters intent on destroying everyone and possessing him. He turned back to Marakoff, but the ghost had already disappeared.

  Chewing his lip, Jason stepped on to his air-platform and rose up through the trees.

  At the roof top Jason caught a glimpse of security guards and vehicles milling around in front of the garages. A couple of jeeps, headlights flaring, sped off up the drive towards the gatehouse but all the other vehicles kept their lights off as they moved. In the darkness, men and machines seemed to be ebbing away into the trees beyond the church.

  Jason quickly moved down the inner roof on an air-beam and stopped at the edge. Lights were flicking off behind curtained windows – the students must be leaving for their attack stations.

  Jason quickly formed another air stepping stone, the support column dropping silently down onto the dark slabs three floors below and started crossing to his broken bathroom window.

  His room was silent and dark when he crawled back in. He quickly pulled on some dry training trousers and T-shirt and clipped on the identification pin from under his pillow. Finally, he slipped Marakoff’s thin plastic transmitter in one trainer – would Dad be tuned in to it already, following it in right now to find him?

  Taking a moment to calm himself, breathing deeply, slowly he walked to the door and rested his forehead against it. It was quiet here in his little room, quiet and safe.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  ‘Jason – get up now.’

  He heard the tiny tones of his key pad being pressed. He rushed back to sit on his bed, flicked on the low table light and tore off a trainer.

  Sergeant Smith burst in, two guards in the hall behind. ‘What the bloody ‘ell have you been up to lad?’

  Jason laced his trainer back on. ‘Sorry… I only woke up a couple of minutes ago. What’s happening? Is this a practise?’

  Smith looked around the room then stared at the half open bathroom door for a moment. If he went in there and saw the window…

  ‘No, it’s bloody well not,’ Smith said, checking the corridor outside. Four guards with Kalashnikovs scuttled passed. ‘The Brethren are almost at the walls and the tannoys called everyone to attack stations five minutes ago.

  ‘Sorry. I sleep through anything… always have,’ Jason said and crossed the room to Smith.

  Smith stared at him for a moment then reached for his walkie-talkie. ‘Smith – found him and returning to Cloister 5.’

  ‘Come on, then,’ Smith said and turned to leave. The two guards darted ahead and Jason dashed out after him. The corridor lights had been dimmed to almost nothing and dark shapes with rifles crouched next to every third window on both floors as the four of them raced by.

  Outside, the gravelled approach Jason had watched from the roof top was almost deserted now. He scanned the windows and tree line but there wasn’t anything to see through the curtain of drizzle.

  ‘Come on lad, this isn’t a sightseeing tour.’ Smith fiddled with something in his ear – a small, blue earphone - and they leapt down the stone steps and ran around towards the little stone bridge that led to the refectory back entrance.

  Jason caught up with Smith. ‘Will they be able to get through the walls?’

  Jason could have sworn a smile flickered across Smiths rugged face. ‘It’s possible lad, more than possible, you might say.’

  Suddenly a tiny red dot appeared on Smith’s forehead – a laser sight. A second beam lanced out at one of the other guards from behind the bridge’s low wall.

  ‘Freeze. Check in.’

  All four of them skidded to a halt.

  ‘Sergeant Smith, Jason Willow, Alexor and Ludovich.’

  Two bright torch beams flared in their faces for a couple of seconds. ‘Pass.’

  The laser dots disappeared and Jason breathed again. The pin system worked then: their identification and photos beamed to the guard’s walkie-talkie monitors and Smith confirming their names.

  They reached the small riverside refectory door just as two explosions sounded from the hill-top gatehouse.

  ‘Inside, Jason – quickly,’ Smith said and shoved him into the refectory. The normally bright and cheerful room was now only dimly illuminated in red light. The door closed itself behind them and silence fell.

  They dashed between the long benches, their footsteps
echoing in the deserted hall.

  ‘Why isn’t there a team stationed in here?’ Jason whispered.

  ‘We don’t want any of our lot in ‘ere if the enemy break in,’ Smith said, jerking his head up towards one corner of the refectory.

  Jason looked up. Half hidden in the shadows was a camera and beneath it, something that looked like the barrel of a gun – a big gun. Next to it was the dark open end of some sort of tube. Jason checked the other corners – all the same. The entire refectory could become a killing-ground of cross-fired bullets and whatever was going to hiss out of those pipes.

  Smith reached the main door out to the cloister then stopped, tapping his earpiece. ‘Sergeant Smith entering cloister from the refectory.’

  He nodded once and opened the door.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Smith spat as two red laser dots appeared on his forehead. Distant gunfire rattled in sporadic bursts now, echoing dully around the cloister. There were three explosions and this time the sky over the gatehouse flashed bright white.

  ‘Check in’ two voices called, almost simultaneously. One of them sounded like Oliver Stone’s powerful bass rumble.

  ‘Sergeant Smith, Jason Willow, Alexor and Ludovich.’ Smith yelled.

  ‘Pass,’ both voices shouted back over the gunfire and the dots winked out.

  The armoury door flew open and Anna appeared. ‘Jason - where the hell have you been?’

  ‘I was asleep. I didn’t hear…’

  ‘Shut up,’ Smith said. ‘Get inside. Alexor, Ludovich – thanks for your company.’

  The two guards nodded and hurried into the chapter house next door as Jason and Sergeant Smith stepped passed Anna into the armoury. She slammed the heavy, steel-cored door behind them and hastily bolted it top and bottom. The sharp crackle of gunfire dulled a little.

  As Jason’s eyes adjusted to the dust-dimmed red lighting, four white faces emerged from the gloom around him.

  Oliver Stone was at one of the small windows, his big frame cramped into the corner on top of two boxes of ammunition. He held a Kalashnikov pointing out into the cloister and a walkie-talkie lay on the windowsill.