by Ian Redman
“That was Ash,” replied Dunstan.
Meanwhile, the confused, chaos ridden mind of Trooper Ash Piper screamed out for help, his powerful wolf form running like the wind across the Iraqi desert as he began hunting for further prey, and searching…for his own kind.
2
NIGHTMARES AND KISSES
The amber eyes were watching him!
The young boy, running, laughing, with not a care in the world.
The amber eyes followed his every movement!
And all because of the butterfly! So beautiful and fragile! Its colours, so radiant! Red, black, white and blue, fluttering to each flower, so gently, with the boy looking on…fascinated.
Should he…yes, but Mum would not approve, oh…just this once! He didn’t want to hurt the butterfly, just to see it up close, to catch it and show its beauty to Mum and Dad. The boy laughed and jumped, his arms outstretched, trying to catch the fluttering insect as it flew around him, so easily, so…gracefully. He giggled again. How he loved this forest, just being here, with his mother and father, in Germany’s Black Forest.
Last year, when he was nine, they had brought him to this magical woodland, on holiday for the first time. He remembered being so happy, for three long, wonderful weeks. Yes…so very, very happy.
Smiling, his eyes wide with excitement, and a little mischief, he gazed at the butterfly again. This time it fluttered towards him. Yes, he could just see it as the sunlight filtered lazily through the trees, illuminating little white specks of light dancing a dazzling aerial display. The little midges, tiny winged insects, darting all around.
Still giggling, the ten-year-old boy clapped his hands together in excitement. It was all part of the magic, the magic of the forest. The butterfly and the midges, all in the lovely evening sunlight.
It was all so wonderful…just like a fairyland.
And the amber eyes kept watching him!
His mother called from way off in the distance. “Ashley, Ashley, where are you? Your dinner is nearly ready.”
“I WON’T BE LONG MUM, I PROMISE!” His mother did sound far away, but not too far! Perhaps it was time to head back? The boy sighed. He wanted to explore the forest just a little more, besides, there was no school, no homework and most of all, no bullies to worry about.
It was holiday time. A time for fun!
And still the amber eyes kept watching him!
“ASHLEY!” It was Dad, he was shouting, “COME ON BACK TO THE CARAVAN YOU LITTLE RASCAL, YOUR DINNER IS READY. YOUR MOTHER WON’T BE HAPPY IF IT GOES COLD!”
“OKAY DAD!” Oh, just another few minutes thought the boy, idly shuffling off the dusty track into the forest. Mum and Dad would like to see the butterfly, he was sure they would, it would be a nice surprise for them. He looked around again. There! Just to the right of him, amidst the purple flowers. The butterfly had flown over to them. If he could just gently cup his hands around it! Slowly, ever so carefully, he crept up to the flowers, leaned down and smiled. There it was, its wings, slowly opening and closing in the sunlight. Calmly, the boy began to lower his hands, preparing to cup them around the beautiful insect…then it flew off and away from him, softly fluttering through the rays of sunlight. Happily laughing, he leapt up then tripped over, the graceful winged insect quietly fluttering away. Ah well, he had tried!
And the amber eyes kept watching him, the long red tongue licking its lips, the triangular shaped ears flicking towards the boy’s movement, the ears flattening as four powerful, furred legs rose from the forest floor.
“ASHLEY, WHERE ARE YOU SON? I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO CALL YOU AGAIN!”
“I’M COMING DAD!” Hastily the boy skipped and hopped over the ferns, twigs and flowers, back onto the dusty track.
Then… he heard it!
A snapping twig! He looked around quizzically, his heart beginning to race.
Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he noticed the shape. A dog, a large dog, running towards him, through the undergrowth, leaping over the fallen branches.
“DAD, DAAAAAAD!” He yelled, his voice becoming a scream, “DAAAAAAAD, HELP ME!” The boy ran like never before as the large dog raced towards him, panting, snarling. He was terrified, terrified out of his wits! “DAD! MUM! PLEASE, HELP MEEEEE!” The dog, now just metres away, growled in anger, its teeth bared, ready to seize its prey. “DAD! PLEASE, HEEEEEEEEEELP!”
“ASHLEY? ASHLEY! OH GOD ALMIGHTY! DON’T LOOK BACK SON! KEEP RUNNING, FOR GOD’S SAKE KEEP RUNNING!”
There, in front of him, his father, gaining ground, sprinting towards him. The boy’s screams became a high-pitched wail of despair, his tears cascading down his face.
“DAAAAAAAAAAAAAD….”
“ASHLEY, OH DEAR GOD, NOOOOOOO.” The growling dog leapt at Cornelius Piper’s only son.
The boy screamed again! A long, lonely, terrifying scream, the memory of which would haunt his father for years to come. “DAD! PLEEEEEEASE…!” The ten year old, dark blonde haired boy went down, his arms outstretched, as if begging his father to be at his side.
“NOOOOOOOOOOO!” Cornelius Piper’s yelling echoed through the forest, “MARGUERITE, GET HELP, QUICKLY, GET HELP!”
Panic stricken, the boy lashed out at the dog. But the pain was unbearable, the canid’s powerful jaws smashing into his arm, its incisors cutting deep, ripping and tearing into human flesh. Squealing in agony, the boy thumped the dog’s snout as it snapped at his hands. He hit out again, but now felt weak, faint, with only his father’s shouting bringing him back to his senses.
“GET OFF MY SON, DAMN IT!” Cornelius Piper’s boot flashed past his son’s face, hitting the dog in the head as it yelped in pain. It turned, snarling, ready to attack again. “GET OFF HIM! GET OFF MY SON!”
The boy and the man fought back, their energies draining such was the savage intensity of the canid assault, his father’s boot, kicking again at the dog’s teeth as it snarled and bit.
More pain, more yelling, the boy’s blood soaking his shirt. “DAD, DAAAAAD!”
As the savagery of the attack intensified, Cornelius Piper threw himself on top of his son, but the dog’s teeth were lethal, the boy’s arm being torn from its socket, dripping blood everywhere. The boy felt sick, his father screaming, yelling, his fists flailing outward, pummelling, hitting the dog’s snout and teeth, his knuckles bleeding.
Suddenly, just for an instant, the boy saw something rise up in front of him, the long thin object then hurtling down with a sickening thudding sound.
The dog wailed in pain.
The thin shape hit out again and again! “NO, NO, NO!” The man’s voice gained in volume, his yelling angry, demented, the thin shape battering the dog’s head and sides. A golf club? Yes, it looked like a golf club! There, another man, next to his father, but the boy couldn’t hear them, his wretched, torn body now shaking uncontrollably. Panic stricken, he saw his arm and blood, his blood, everywhere, and his flesh, stripped to the bone. His bone! The boy wanted to scream again, to hold his hand out to his father. But he couldn’t move, or think. He could only shake, and twitch!
“He’s in shock,” said the man, “we need an ambulance and damned quickly.”
“OH MY GOD! DEAR GOD! ASHLEY!”
There, his mother, leaning over him, her lovely blonde hair cascading down towards his face. Rain, it was raining…no, his mother was crying, his face…wet, wet with tears.
“An ambulance is on its way.”
Another man, standing over him! Now there were three men. Instinctively, the boy recognised his father, then he screamed, a leather belt pulling tight over his arm.
“I just hope and pray this will stem the blood flow. Jesus Christ, I’ve never seen anything like it. The damned thing must have been rabid!” It was the first man again, the man with the golf club, the look on his face full of anguish, concern.
The boy lay in the dust, dirt and blood. He tried to smile at his mother and father, but he couldn’t, he just continued to stare at them, their figures bl
urred, their voices seemingly echoing in the distance.
The dog lay next to him. It was still, silent, its tongue hanging out of its battered, bloody mouth. There was blackness, a long dark tunnel, slowly, effortlessly creeping towards him. But there was light at the end of the tunnel, and a figure…in white. An angel? Yes, Mum and Dad said angels did exist. Of course! He was travelling to heaven. Yes, there she was, an angel in white…no, it’s mum again, she’s saying something.
“Oh God! Look what it’s done! His arm, his arm’s ripped off!” Gently, with floods of tears rolling down her cheeks, Marguerite Piper held her only son close to her, her tears continuously falling onto young Ashley’s face. She kissed him as only a loving mother could. “Oh dear God. Ashley, please don’t die. Please Lord don’t take him from us, please, please…”
The boy’s open, vacant gaze moved once again to the dog, its fur hanging loosely from its body, its amber eyes wide open, staring at him. As Ashley Piper started to drift away, back to the angel who was waiting for him, he remembered his mother’s arms around him, her tears falling on his face, and her gentle, loving kisses. With the long black tunnel slowly enveloping his savaged body, he began to cry, then to scream, a long pitiful scream that echoed through the forest.
The dog still lay across from him, silent, its eyes, so powerful. They were wolf’s eyes, the boy thought, yes, a wolf. Definitely a wolf. He screamed again. He wanted to leave this frightening forest, he wanted to leave the wolf far behind.
“Ashley…Ashley,” it was his mother’s voice, calm, comforting. But it couldn’t be…could it? Then, as if out of nowhere, the angel took hold of him.
“Good, you’re awake! I was getting a little worried. Now, just relax, I’ll inform Doctor Ramirez.” The angel was a nurse with an American accent.
Piper, his eyes heavily bloodshot, slowly looked around the white and cream coloured room. He smelt antiseptic and fruit, there, next to him, apples, grapes and bananas.
“Of course doctor, yes…he seems fine, a little shaken obviously…yes, certainly… I will see you in a few minutes.” The nurse replaced the handset of the internal telephone and looked across at Piper. She smiled again, as if to reassure the handsome and somewhat rugged looking soldier that everything would be fine.
Piper tried to sit up but couldn’t, his hands and legs being immobilised. “What’s going on?” he asked, a tone of bewilderment set firmly in his voice, “why the restraints?”
“For your own good I’m afraid. You wouldn’t believe how much you’ve thrashed about in that bed over the last three days. I think you’ve been hallucinating, or having nightmares.”
Three days thought Piper, three whole days. Shit! He closed his eyes. He was sweating.
With another pleasant smile the nurse walked over and wiped his brow with a wet, cold sponge as Piper’s nostrils began to twitch. He could smell a trace of perfume, and the smell of underlying sweat on her body. His nostrils twitched again, his senses seemingly so alive. “Where am I?” he asked.
“This is the Al Hada Hospital. We are a part of the United States Military Training Mission attached to Taif Air Base.” Quickly, the nurse looked around as the bedroom door swung open.
“Taif Air Base…Saudi Arabia?”
“That is correct, Ashley!” The white coated, balding, slightly overweight man walked over to his bedside. “How are you feeling? I am Doctor Anthony Ramirez of the United States Air Force. I’m attached to this hospital, the same as Nurse Clarel here.” The doctor spoke quietly to Nurse Clarel as Piper looked them both up and down. “Right,” he continued, his voice pleasant but authoritative, “let’s get rid of these restraints, shall we?”
Within minutes Piper lay free. He stretched his limbs luxuriously, the sensation making him feel pleasantly relaxed. “Doctor, the invasion, what’s happening?”
“As far as I am aware, all is going according to plan. The coalition forces are making good progress.”
“My two mates, Privates Collins and Dunstan! They were with me behind enemy lines, what’s happened to them?” As his thoughts travelled back to the firefight in Iraq, Piper suddenly felt greatly concerned for the safety of his two SAS colleagues.
Doctor Ramirez slowly shook his head, “Nurse Clarel and I know nothing about your friends, I’m sorry. All I know is you were brought here specially, to be monitored and cared for. We have both been ordered not to ask questions, just to give you the best medical care available. Simple as that! Now, I have a phone call to make.” Piper cursed under his breath as Doctor Ramirez walked over to the door and looked at his watch. “All being well, you should have a visitor within the next four to five hours, so get some more sleep, or would you like some breakfast?”
“Yes, thanks, I am hungry.”
“Leave it to me,” said nurse Clarel.
“After breakfast,” the Doctor continued, “I want to examine you fully, then you can relax and await your visitor.”
Swiftly, Doctor Ramirez left the room, with Nurse Clarel offering Piper a fresh glass of ice-cold water, which he enthusiastically gulped down. “Thanks.” Piper smiled at her as he lay back on the soft white pillows. So many questions to ask, he thought…so many damned questions. He closed his eyes.
That same morning, thousands of kilometres away in the Dutch city of Amsterdam, fifty one year old Anna Friid was preparing for her usual day at the Van Gogh Museum.
Situated at Paulus Potterstraat 7, the famous, popular museum, houses the world’s largest collection of Vincent Van Gogh’s paintings. For over eight years Anna had worked at the museum as a tour guide, thoroughly enjoying taking the daily throng of visitors on walks around the exquisite paintings adorning the walls of the building. Her oratory was always vibrant and colourful, just like the paintings she adored, and both the staff at the museum and the tourists loved her. As Anna walked nimbly through the museum’s entrance doors, she heard her friend and work colleague calling over to her.
“Good morning Anna, have you heard from Jon yet?”
Zara Milt, a lively, bubbly twenty one year old, with thick-rimmed glasses and flowing red hair, was referring to Anna’s only son, now twenty-eight, who worked at a solicitor’s office in Lucerne in Switzerland.
“Yes, his letter arrived today Zara.”
“Oh, how wonderful!”
Anna’s face was awash with excitement. Jon had invited his mother to stay with him for two weeks at the end of April. She was delighted, so too, was Zara, for Anna had lost her husband just over three years ago. Now, time spent with her son, and at the museum, meant so much to her.
“We must talk a little later Anna,” Zara said, “but I think we have our first customers for the day.”
Quickly Anna turned around to see a small group of tourists standing at the front door, with Zara instantly noticing the tall, striking, well-dressed man with blonde hair, standing within the crowd. With a warm smile on her face, Anna unlocked the cloakroom door next to the reception desk. At the same time, blushing embarrassingly as the blonde haired man gazed fixedly in her direction, Zara welcomed their first visitors for the day.
Approximately fifty minutes later, the phone on Anton Actie’s desk began to ring. Actie was the main Political Editor for the much read and respected Dutch daily newspaper, “De Telegraaf”. Taking another sip of his luke-warm coffee Actie picked up the handset, the extension number reading ‘0’. He sighed, knowing it was the receptionist and the first of many phone calls throughout the day.
“Yes!”
“Anton, a call for you.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t give his name, but he says it is important that he speaks to you.”
“Find out who he is first Julie. You know I have my rules about talking to people like this, I am just so busy.”
“Yes but…he sounds foreign, okay, hold on.”
Actie kept the handset close to his ear and took another sip of coffee.
“Anton…”
“Yes?”
“Again, he just says he must speak with you, apparently it is important. He sounds a bit…strange!”
“Okay, put him through,” the coffee cup landed in the waste bin. “Anton Actie speaking, how can I help you?”
“Listen carefully. I represent the European Muslim Freedom Fighters. Our war against western decadence and betrayal begins today. Your country is targeted! The Dutch people shall be cleansed by fire.”
Actie sat back, the look on his face, quizzical, and a little perturbed. “Who the hell is this, what do you mean?” There was a distinctly menacing tone in the man’s voice, thought Actie, and a distinct accent…yes, a Middle Eastern accent.
“Don’t interrupt! Our war begins soon, you shall know when.” The line closed.
“Hello…hello!”
“Sorry Anton, he’s hung up!”
“Oh! Okay, no problem.” Nervously Actie replaced the handset. “Idiot,” he said, swivelling around in his large chair. Another coffee was required, and a cigarette. But now Actie was becoming worried. The man’s voice was very threatening! No, he thought, don’t worry, get on with your work, the caller was just a screwball, of that he was certain…he hoped!
After a sumptuous cooked breakfast, steaming hot shower and a shave, Ash Piper slept well for over three hours. Now he lay wide-awake, awaiting his visitor, his thoughts full of trepidation as the bedroom door opened. It was Doctor Ramirez.
“Please, step this way Colonel.”
Ashley Piper stared at the man walking through the doorway in complete bewilderment. “Colonel Mann, SIR!”
“Hello Ash. Please relax, there’s no need for formalities.” Colonel Charles Mann walked over to Piper’s bedside and pulled up a chair. As with all the men and women under the Colonel’s command, Ash Piper had the greatest of respect for this proud man, now Commander in Chief of UK Special Forces during the new Iraqi conflict.
