The Anomaly (Scarrett & Kramer Book 2)

by Neil Carstairs

  “Let’s go before they come and say hello,” Kramer said.

  ***

  Ben yanked on the handle and shoved the door open as the padding on his seat exploded. He saw a flash of light as pain seared up through his body. He fell from the moving vehicle and bounced and rolled as the world turned grey. When he came to, he lay on the lawn, staring up at the sky, as the Range Rover accelerated away.

  “Jesus.” Everything hurt. He tried to sit up but only succeeded in getting halfway before he collapsed back. Ben could still hear the Range Rover’s engine as Congrave drove hard across the lawn. He needed to get up. Ben rolled onto his side and came to his feet. An unusual warmth ran down his side and when he reached to it his hand came back red with blood. “Oh, shit.”

  One step and then another. The Range Rover seemed to be turning, coming back towards him. Ben tottered on, listening to the pitter-patter of his blood at it fell to the ground. He still held onto his gun, dumb luck, and aimed it at the vehicle as it slithered its way across the grass. Through the windshield, he could see Congrave and Morrigan struggling for control. Ben’s felt like shit and bile rose into his throat. Fifty yards. Forty yards.

  Ben just about stayed on his feet as his muscles twinged and a bolt of pain fired up into his skull.

  “Goddamnit.”

  ***

  Morrigan had one arm around Congrave’s neck and the other half on the steering wheel. He fought her with his body and his mind. She needed control. Total control, but he wouldn’t let go. Ahead, she saw the American waiting for them. If that one hadn’t been so quick, she’d have killed him where he sat, and Congrave would have had no reason to fight her. But killing him now was better. Letting Congrave see his body impact the front of the vehicle at this speed would destroy her sacrifice’s resistance.

  She steered towards the American.

  He fired at them, bullets punched through the glass and whipped between Morrigan and Congrave. Now.

  The steering wheel jerked as Congrave fought back. Morrigan screamed in frustration as the Range Rover angled and missed the American by a hair’s-breadth. Morrigan punched Congrave’s shoulder but the car swept on, and now she saw something else moving through the fractured glass.

  “No!”

  Two girls and five wolves.

  The car was on them in an instant. Morrigan saw a blur of movement and then came the impacts. Blood. Screams. Bodies flew across her vision. She hated him. This man who should have been her sacrifice but was now her tormentor. Her arm tightened around his throat, but he kept control of the car from her, and now she saw where he wanted to go. The oak tree’s thick trunk showed its age, hundreds of years it had grown in this place, and now it waited, undaunted by the speeding vehicle.

  The front end of the Range Rover imploded. Glass shattered and air-bags activated. Morrigan flew forward. She saw Congrave snatched by his seatbelt and engulfed by the air-bag before she went through the remains of the windscreen. Her body sliced across the jagged remains of the bonnet and struck the oak tree.

  ***

  Congrave heard nothing but screams. As the airbag deflated, he saw that Morrigan lay nestled between the trunk of the oak tree and the crushed front of the Range Rover. Lacerations covered her body. Her limbs twisted out of shape. Bones stuck out of her arms and legs, compound fractures that would have put any mortal person into unconsciousness but not a goddess. As he watched, Congrave saw an arm pulsate with energy. It straightened out as each end of the broken bone knitted together.

  That’s when Congrave knew he had to move. But he couldn’t. The force of the impact had pushed the engine block back, and the whole dashboard had shunted with it, crushing down against his legs and trapping him.

  “No!” he struck the steering wheel in frustration. Morrigan moved again, and her broken neck ground back into place with audible cracks of rebuilding vertebrae.

  It wouldn’t be long, and she would recover enough to attack him. Congrave closed his eyes, willing the weight of the engine to disappear. It didn’t. Anger burst through his veins. He’d been willing to sacrifice himself, and now it looked like she would win.

  He reached out and banged his fist down hard on the glass covered dashboard. Pain flew up his arm as the fragments cut into his hand. One of the stems leading out from his forearm waved in the air. Congrave stared at it. The stem moved again, lengthening this time as a new tendril split out and stretched towards Morrigan. Congrave looked down at his body. More shoots were appearing, the fresh green buds twisting in the air as they sought their target. He looked out of the car at Morrigan and smiled. The stems continued to grow, becoming vines that ran out across the glass and torn bodywork of the car. Morrigan didn’t see them as her body continued to repair itself.

  Yes.

  Congrave realised he could control the stems, vines and branches. It was like wiggling his fingers and toes at the same time. A little concentration and now he reached out with multiple limbs. He snaked them around her body, tightening his grasp on her legs and arms, seeking spaces beneath her to wrap around her waist, chest and neck. Morrigan woke to the danger. Still wounded she could do nothing more that struggle as Congrave snagged her in a network of foliage. He bound her arms to her body and only then did he look at the man who staggered up to the driver’s door.

  Ben looked bad, blood stained his clothing, and he only remained upright by leaning against the car. Congrave said, “I’m holding her, but I can keep her tied down for much longer. She’s recovering and getting stronger.”

  Ben looked at the goddess. “Do I shoot her in the head?”

  “No, that won’t kill her. Only fire can cleanse her.”

  Ben frowned as if Congrave spoke in a foreign language. “What?”

  “Fire will burn her soul. It’s the only way.”

  “I haven’t got any matches on me,” Ben said.

  “We need sparks,” Congrave said.

  Ben took a moment to process that. “Shoot the fuel tank?” he asked.

  “That won’t work. Maybe the fuel lines in the engine compartment. Anything to get this burning.”

  Ben nodded. “I’ll get you out first.”

  “No.” Congrave reached out through the shattered driver’s window to grab his arm. “There’s no time. She has to burn.”

  Ben stared at the older man. “I can’t do that.”

  “Yes, you can. Look at me. I’m part man and part plant. I can’t live like this. Even if I did, I’d be in a laboratory for the rest of my life. Morrigan has to die, and this is the only way.”

  Ben rested his head on the edge of the car’s roof. Congrave waited. He felt Morrigan moving within her restraints. She cursed him, and the first of the stems split as she tried to break free.

  “Ben,” Congrave whispered. “Please.”

  “I’m sorry.” Ben pushed back. He hobbled a few yards and stared at the Range Rover. Morrigan began to thrash, and Congrave made a desperate sound as he fought to hold her. More stems burst from his body and slithered towards the goddess.

  ***

  Ben wanted to run but he couldn’t. He could barely stand as the pain became overwhelming, dragging him down to the grass. On the front of the mangled car, Morrigan tried to sit up until a thick vine wrapped around her neck and pulled her back down. Ben saw this through a haze. Congrave turned his head towards Ben, his face pale as he began to lose the fight against the goddess.

  Ben shot Morrigan twice in the chest. Her struggles subsided, but he could still see her breathing. Bought us a bit of time, Ben thought. He made it back to the Range Rover. Congrave wanted sparks. Ben peered into the engine compartment through the buckled bodywork. He spotted the car’s battery and could smell fuel and hydraulic fluid where the lines had ruptured in the impact.

  Morrigan moved. Ben looked up at Congrave and saw him mouth the words, “Do it.”

  Ben took a step back. It hurt to lift his arms as he aimed at the battery. The gun’s recoil made him cry out in agony. He almost fe
ll. As the third round hit the battery, a blue flash dazzled Ben and fumes from oil and fuel ignited in a soft coughing sound. Within seconds, flames reached out around the crumpled bodywork of the Range Rover as the fire took hold. The heat grew in intensity. Morrigan began to scream, the bullet wounds in her chest still bad enough to prevent her escaping the binding vines. She rolled away from the flames that licked up around her body and came closer to Congrave. Ben saw the Englishman reach out through the broken window and grab her arm. He pulled her into the passenger compartment, wedging the goddess’s body across the folded dashboard as the fire burned its way towards him. Plastics, carpet and upholstery began to smoulder. Smoke and fumes drove Ben back a step as the screams from Morrigan were joined by Congrave’s.

  Ben forced himself forward. He saw Congrave revealed as the wind swept smoke into a swirling cloud and lifted it into the air. Congrave turned to Ben, the skin on his face peeling. A hand came out, blackened by soot and shaking with pain. Ben knew what he wanted and passed his gun to Congrave. Acrid smoke engulfed him, stinging his eyes and searing his throat. Ben stumbled away into cleaner air and heard the gunshot like a hammer to his heart.

  Ben fell. Soft grass embraced him. A sudden whoosh as more fuel ignited forced him to crawl further from the burning vehicle. Heat scorched his exposed skin. Tyres exploded, and any screams from the goddess were lost within the raging inferno.

  ***

  Kramer and Geordie were back where they’d started, standing alongside the Prime Minister as sprites and goblins, wraiths and demons broke their way out of Chequers. Glass and masonry fell like confetti as the creatures came out into the quadrangle. The last few Vikings ran forward to form a thin line of protection. Kramer glanced at the gateway. The warriors guarding the entrance were falling back as more of the creatures attacked. She turned to the Prime Minister and said, “Get down, Ma’am. We’ll hold them off as long as possible.”

  The P.M. knelt on the grass; she reached out to hold Emily’s hand as the fighting came closer. Beside her, Geordie fired, and a sprite fell.

  “We could try running,” Geordie shouted to her above the clash of swords on stone.

  “No good,” Kramer said. “We can only go as fast as the slowest person here.”

  “How about just you and the P.M.? She’s the important one.”

  Kramer wanted to say yes. Any chance of escaping this trap. It had looked so easy, defending a patch of land with a building on one said and high walls on two. “Too late,” she said.

  A Viking fell back against her; his face lost to a sweeping slap of a sand wraith. Kramer half fell and put two rounds into the face of a demon that rushed her. The head split apart, and the creature fell to the ground. Geordie stepped into the line of warriors, filling a gap that formed. Kramer wanted to call him back, but by then she heard screams behind her and found another goblin had made it through and now the industrialist’s wife lay dead as a huge foot crushed her skull. Kramer gunned the goblin down. She grabbed Stanton’s wife and forced her down beside Emily. Stanton followed as Kramer’s hard grip twisted his arm. Kramer saw that only one angel remained now, standing beside Emily with his hand on her shoulder.

  The circle of warriors shrank some more. They fought shoulder to shoulder now, keeping the attackers at bay. Kramer could hear Geordie shooting and swearing. Somewhere off to her right a column of dark smoke lifted high into the air. She had no time to think about that. Another Viking died, and Kramer took his place. A yellow-eyed face loomed close to her, teeth snapping. Kramer shot it in the throat.

  Thunder rolled overhead. The sky darkened.

  The creatures paused, some in mid-movement. They seemed to sense a change in the world. Kramer heard a woman’s scream that split the air. For a moment nothing happened, and then the beasts were snatched from existence. The quadrangle became silent. Kramer waited for a new threat to emerge. A worse threat.

  Seconds became minutes. The column of smoke continued to rise. In the quadrangle, Kramer began to hope. She looked at Geordie.

  “They gone?” he asked.

  “I hope so.” Kramer stepped away from the ring of warriors. They remained unmoving as if expecting another attack to form. She pointed at the smoke. “Something’s burning,” she said.

  “Last time I saw smoke like that it was in Afghanistan,” Geordie said. “Some suicide bomber’s explosives only half-detonated and he burned to death in his car. Served him right.”

  Kramer only heard ‘burn’ and ‘car’. Her heart emptied. “Scarrett,” she said, and started running.

  “Jo? Jo?” Kramer heard Geordie shouting after her, but by then she’d left the quadrangle and turned towards the fire. She ran across gravel and grass. Something burned with a ferocity that had set fire to a tree and Kramer could see branches high in the crown catching light the closer she got.

  Somewhere along the way she picked out the shape of the Range Rover in the orange and red flames. The blackened hulk had sunk as the tyres burst and the suspension collapsed. Her lungs burned from running and smoke as she staggered to a halt just yards from it. The heat drove her back a couple of paces. She stared into the flames until her eyes hurt.

  No.

  Geordie lumbered up. He stopped beside her, and all he could say was, “Fuck.”

  Kramer began to shake. Ash drifted down from the tree like black snow. A couple of branches gave way and crashed onto the Range Rover, sending a shower of sparks spiralling upwards. Geordie pulled her back as the wind changed direction and a wall of heat hit their faces. Kramer didn’t want to go, but as Geordie turned her, the wind changed again and this time the smoke went with it. She saw a figure on the grass.

  Kramer snatched herself from Geordie’s grasp and ran to Ben. Sweet Jesus. Geordie came, and they dragged the body away from the flames. Kramer knelt beside him. She found the wound in his side. She looked up at Geordie. “It’s bad,” she said.

  Something popped off in the Range Rover that made Kramer and Geordie both flinch. The sound made Ben’s eyes open. Kramer leant in close, her lips brushing his cheek. “You’re hurt,” she said. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

  Ben tried to smile, but it didn’t get very far. “I don’t need a hospital,” he whispered. “I need a vacation.”

  Kramer kissed him. “You live,” she said, “and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

  Epilogue

  i

  “You know, Scarrett,” Kramer said, leaning down to talk to Ben. “Some people might think you’re starting to milk this.”

  Ben shook his head in disappointment. “That’s your problem, Kramer. No sympathy for the wounded.”

  They waited in line at security, Ben in a wheelchair being pushed by an airport employee and Kramer alongside him, fixing Ben with one of her ‘don’t bullshit me’ looks.

  Ben gave her an innocent smile as the airport guy got him moving again. Kramer sighed and tagged along. Despite everything, she did care about him and that first couple of hours in the hospital had scared the shit out of her. Blood transfusions, emergency CT scans, medical teams assessing Scarrett as if this was the end. He pulled through, and the medics discharged him after a week and gave him a reluctant permission to fly after another two.

  So here they were, presenting their passports at immigration and stepping back onto US soil for the first time in what felt like years. The airport guy stayed with them all the way through baggage reclaim and into the arrivals hall where he gave Ben a pat on the shoulder and disappeared into the mass of bodies that swirled around them.

  “Can you see her yet?” Kramer asked.

  “From down here?” Ben looked up at her and gestured at his chair.

  “So stand up,” Kramer said. “You know there’s nothing wrong with you.”

  “Let me know when you spot her.” Ben ignored the barbed comment.

  “Could be a problem,” Kramer said. “I don’t know what she looks like.” She parked their bags next to Ben. “Look after these. I�
�m heading to the restroom.”

  Ben waited for the crowds to clear. Two flights had landed and unloaded passengers into the terminal within minutes and now that everyone seemed to have sorted themselves out, the arrivals hall quietened down a little.

  “Ben!” Chrissie appeared at his side, mouth open in shock at the sight of him in a wheelchair. “You’re...”

  “I’m fine,” he said. “It’s just a precaution for a few more days.”

  Chrissie looked better than at any time Ben had seen her in the last few years. She wore her blonde hair tied back and Ben could see her fair skin carried some sun now. Dan must be good for her.

  “But, oh my god, you should have told me how bad you were hurt.”

  He took his sister’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “A bit of rest and I’ll be back in top shape.”

  “Are you sure?” Chrissie didn’t look convinced.

  “Absolutely,” Ben said with a grin. “Now, haven’t you got someone to introduce me too?”

  “Oh.” Chrissie did a little dance and dragged Dan into view. “This is Dan. Dan, my big brother Ben, who needs to take more care of himself.”

  “Ben.”

  “Dan.”

  They sized each other up, like guys do, and both seemed to like what they saw. From where Ben sat, Dan looked to be just over six feet tall. He had the build of someone who liked sports and a smile of someone who liked to laugh at life. Chrissie watched their faces and grinned when the two men looked at her. “You two need to head down to a bar and have a drink together,” she said. “But first you must be tired after that journey so let’s get you back to the condo. Are these your bags?”

  “One is, the other belongs to a friend.”

  “Okay,” Chrissie said. “Is he around?”

  “Yeah, she’s just coming over now.”

  The weeks since the death of Morrigan had allowed Kramer’s bruises to fade. Most of the cuts had healed, and the ones that remained were now hidden behind carefully applied make-up.

  “Wow,” Chrissie said when she saw Kramer. She looked down at Ben. “How much of a friend is she?”