Fallen Heroes

by Amy Cross

  “Run,” Laura whispered.

  Ophelia shook her head. “If this was a movie,” she continued, “or a book, it'd be called Ophelia and Laura. That's because we're a team.”

  “No,” Laura replied with a faint smile, before she winced with pain. “It'd just be called... Ophelia.”

  “I'm getting you out of here,” Ophelia told her. She waited for a reply, before reaching out to search for signs of a pulse on Laura's neck.

  “Is she dead?” Gregory asked, with the gun in his hand. He leaned forward slightly, as if the moment excited him. “Well?”

  Finding no pulse, Ophelia pulled Laura's collar aside and tried again, but there was still nothing.

  “Come on,” she whispered, with tears running down her cheeks, “it can't end like this, it can't.” She pressed her fingers harder against the side of Laura's neck, and finally she felt the faintest of heartbeats. “She's fading,” she continued, trying desperately not to panic. “She hasn't got long left.”

  “Get her into my car,” Gregory said suddenly, standing up and taking a step back, while still aiming the gun at them both.

  “Are you insane?” Ophelia asked. “Wait, scratch that question. I already know the answer, but... I don't know if she'd even survive being carried out of here!”

  “In case you haven't noticed,” he replied, “her survival isn't exactly my primary concern. I never expected the police to be so incompetent that I'd be able to pick the manner of my arrest, but apparently that's the case so... Take her to the car, or I'll blow her head open right here. It really doesn't matter to me whether she's dead or just dying when I dump her body in public.”

  “But -” Pausing, Ophelia realized she had no choice. Reaching down, she put her arms under Laura's ravaged body and slowly, with a little difficulty, managed to pick her up and start carrying her to the door, with Gregory keeping his gun trained on them both as he followed.

  “Don't even think about trying anything,” he told her. “This is it. The endgame is here.”

  “It's going to be okay,” Ophelia whispered, looking down at Laura's face. “Stay with me, just... Don't slip away.”

  As they emerged from the building into the cold early morning air, Ophelia stopped for a moment. Gregory made his way past her, before opening his car's passenger-side door. He seemed strangely calm, as if his exertions during the night had left him tired.

  “We could take my car instead,” Ophelia suggested, hoping to stall for time.

  “You have a car?” he asked.

  “Joe Lewis's,” she replied, holding up the keys to show him. “I borrowed it.”

  “Nice try,” he replied. “I think we'll take mine. Put her in.”

  Still trying to come up with a plan, Ophelia carried Laura over and gently set her on the seat, and then she dropped the keys to her own car back into her pocket. Before she could start making Laura more comfortable, however, she felt Gregory grabbing her arms and tying rope around her wrists.

  “You're coming too,” he told her. “I've never been one to pass up an unexpected opportunity when it presents itself. Usually I plan every move far in advance, I've never winged it life this before. One wrong move and I'll finish this right here and now. No heroics, no sudden attempts to save the day, it's far too late for any of that. You're nothing but a tramp, Rebecca Bridger, but my story will be made even more brilliant if I turn up with you as well. After all, the world still thinks the poor little girl is missing.”

  “You know,” she replied, as he pulled the rope tighter, “I've always had this theory that I can come up with a way out of any situation.”

  “And that's worked for you so far?”

  “So far. It's how I used to get myself to sleep in Andrew Renton's farmhouse. I used to test myself by inventing bad situations and trying to think of a way out.”

  “It won't work this time,” he replied. “If you try anything at all, I'll kill your friend before you can even blink. Now get in the back.”

  Climbing into the back seat, Ophelia waited as Gregory headed to the other side of the car. She knew she had to make a move soon, but she was terrified that if she made a mistake, she'd lose Laura. At the same time, as Gregory climbed into the driver's seat, she knew she had to act fast. With each passing second, however, she felt that Laura was slipping further and further away.

  “We're off for a trip to Scotland Yard,” Gregory explained as he started the engine, while keeping the gun aimed at Laura in the seat next to him. “Seems like an appropriate place for me to turn myself in, don't you think? I've got to admit, I've always had a liking for theatrical flourishes, but this situation is really bringing out the best in me.”

  “The best?” Ophelia replied, as the car bumped across the gravel and finally swung onto the road. “This isn't the best of anything.”

  “After this comes the trial,” he continued. “I'll sit in that courtroom for weeks, maybe months, while everyone goes through the details of my crimes. I'll be like a little celebration of everything I've done. I'll be famous. They probably think they'll shame me, but it'll be like a celebration of my greatest successes.”

  “That's really what matters to you, isn't you?” Ophelia replied, staring at the gun as she tried to work out if she could push it away before he fired. “You're just another fame whore.”

  “I want to be remembered for the things I do best,” he admitted, as he drove the car toward the bridge. “I might even try to take a few more lives before I deliver myself to the police. I could always knock some pedestrians down like skittles, wouldn't that be fun? Maybe a good old-fashioned police chase, with helicopters and everything. Or would that be too American? Too kitschy?”

  “What will you do when someone else breaks your pathetic record?” she asked.

  “I doubt that'll happen.”

  “Why not? All it would take is another psychopath to come along one day, someone who's even smarter than you.”

  He laughed. “I hope to inspire copycats,” he told her. “I want acolytes and worshipers. And if one of them actually does manage to break my record, then he will have earned his place in history too.”

  “You won't find it so funny when it happens,” she continued. “When they scratch your name out of the record books and write in someone else's, you'll be forgotten. After all, no-one remembers the old winners, do they?”

  “Are you trying to make me angry?” he asked, as the car reached the bridge. “That doesn't seem very smart, considering the position you're in.”

  “I'm just telling you the truth,” she replied, watching the gun and waiting for the right moment. Now or never, she figured. “If you don't like it -”

  “You're going to try something stupid, aren't you?”

  She opened her mouth to reply.

  Smiling, he turned to look at her.

  “You're making this even more fun for me,” he told her. “Come on, why don't you -”

  Before he could finish, Laura suddenly lunged at him, throwing herself across onto the driver's seat and slamming into Gregory. A single shot rang out and blew a hole through one of the windows, before he dropped the gun and the car veered wildly from one side of the bridge to the other. Ophelia reached forward and tried to grab the wheel, but she was too late.

  Barely missing a head-on collision with a truck, the car smashed into the railing along the side of the bridge and broke through, tipping over as it dropped down and landed on its roof in the dirty green water.

  “Get out!” Ophelia shouted, as the car began to tilt and sink, with water flooding through the smashed window.

  Struggling with the rope around her wrists, she tried to get the nearest door open, but the car was already fully submerged and there was barely any air left. She began to kick at the seats in front of her, and after a moment she saw that although Daniel Gregory was struggling to get free, Laura seemed to be using the last of her strength to hold him down.

  “Laura!” Ophelia screamed as the car sank deeper into the Tha
mes. “Laura, we have to -”

  Before she could finish, the car tilted again and the last of the air rushed out, leaving them completely submerged as they sank down into the darkness.

  Epilogue

  One week later

  Police officers stood on either side of the grave, saluting their fallen comrade as the coffin was slowly lowered.

  With tears in her eyes, Tricia watched the coffin disappearing into the darkness, as a colleague put a hand on her shoulder.

  Next to them, in a wheelchair with bandages on her neck and hands, and a blanket over her legs to keep her warm, Laura stared with dry-eyed horror at the photo of Nick that had been placed next to the flowers. A little further along, the dead man's parents were trying to comfort one another, while several people were openly crying.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Laura watched the treeline, hoping against hope that she might spot a figure watching from the distance.

  There was no-one.

  “I spoke to your doctor from the hospital,” Maitland said a short while later, as he wheeled Laura away from the grave once the ceremony was over. “You're a dirty liar. He most certainly did not tell you it was fine for you to come today. In fact, I get the distinct impression he's going to have some harsh words for you when I take you back this afternoon. Something about... endangering your recovery by leaving your bed without permission. Ring any bells?”

  “I had to come,” she whispered, looking over at the treeline again.

  Still no-one.

  “Where are you?” she whispered.

  “Stubborn as usual, huh?” he continued. “You need to rest, Laura. It's a miracle you survived, but if you rush your rehab, you're going to put a serious strain on your health.” As they reached the car, he parked her for a moment and opened one of the doors. “You're the worst kind of patient. Stubborn, with no sense of self-preservation.”

  “I'm fine,” she said, gripping the hand-rests before starting to slowly lift herself up.

  “Hey!” he replied, hurrying over and supporting her. “Did you listen to a word I just said? You're not in this chair for fun, you're in it because you're supposed to keep off your feet.”

  “I'm not a cripple.”

  “No, but you're sick. It's a miracle you can even -”

  “Stop using that word,” she gasped, as she reached the seat. Taking a deep breath, she looked around again, still hoping that she might spot Ophelia somewhere. “There are no miracles,” she added. “Not yet.”

  “You're looking for her, aren't you?” Maitland asked.

  She turned to him.

  “Laura, I think you have to accept that -”

  “Someone pulled me out of that car,” she replied.

  “Yes, but -”

  “And whoever it was, they left Daniel Gregory to drown.”

  “I know -”

  “And Ophelia wasn't in there when it was pulled out of the river. Gregory was the only body.”

  “The current in that part of the river is strong,” he explained with a sigh. “If a body got loose, it could be washed miles away. It might never be found.”

  “So who pulled me out?” she asked. “I was unconscious. I'd used the last of my strength to throw myself onto him and then -”

  For a fraction of a second, she remembered being submerged in dark, dirty water as she held Daniel Gregory down.

  “It's more than possible,” Maitland told her, “that you pulled yourself out and you just don't remember it.” Helping her get her legs into the car, he reached around and started arranging her seat-belt. “I know how much you want it to be true,” he continued, “but if Ophelia made it out of the car alive -”

  “Then where is she now?”

  “Exactly.”

  “She's...” Pausing, she realized that everything he was saying made sense. At the same time, she refused to believe that Ophelia was truly gone. “If it was anyone else,” she continued finally, “I'd agree with you, but Ophelia -”

  “Is not a cartoon character,” he reminded her. “Her wrists were tied together, weren't they?”

  “Yes, but -”

  She remembered Gregory's body going limp, and she remembered realizing it was over. And then there had been other hands, reaching out to take hold of her.

  “The odds of her making it out of that car are slim,” Maitland pointed out. “Hell, the odds of you making it out are next to zero -”

  “Which is why it makes sense that she saved me.”

  “And then she ran off, without checking to see that you're okay?” He waited for a reply. “She wouldn't have just abandoned you.”

  “She's...complicated. I'm sure she checked. I asked the nurses at the hospital, they said no-one suspicious had been hanging around, but that doesn't mean -”

  “Daniel Gregory is dead,” Maitland said firmly. “He drowned, that's what you have to focus on. I performed the autopsy myself. I weighed the man's brain, Laura. He killed a lot of people, but he would have killed more, including you, if you hadn't managed to get that car off the road.”

  “And every day since,” she replied, “all the newspapers have been full of stories about him. About how he beat a record for the number of separate murders in one night.”

  “But he's -”

  “That's what he wanted,” she continued. “He wanted fame. He wanted to be recognized for what he'd done, and he got it. He didn't care about getting away with it, or even about surviving. He broke the record, so as he died he probably felt that he'd won.”

  “Is that really how you see it?”

  She paused for a moment, before looking around again, just in case Ophelia was somewhere in the distance.

  “I should get you back to the hospital,” Maitland said finally. “Unless you've changed your mind and decided to go to the wake?”

  She shook her head. “I need to drop in at the nursing home on the way to hospital. I need to check on my mother.”

  “We'll do that,” he replied, slamming the door shut. “Just let me go and talk to a couple of people very quickly, and I'll be right back.”

  As Maitland hurried to the nearby crowd, Laura turned and looked back toward Nick's grave. For a moment, she felt as if maybe she remembered something more from the crash, as if she could feel the moment a pair of hands had grabbed her dragged her out of the water. She remembered gasping for air, and looking up just in time to see a figure, silhouetted against the morning sun, turning to walk away. After that, there had been sirens, and voices, and then she'd woken up in the hospital. After a moment, however, she realized she might be imagining those memories, that they were fantasies, born of pure hope. She glanced around again, still convinced that Ophelia was watching from some safe vantage point.

  Nothing.

  She wouldn't give up, though. She knew, even then, that unless one day a body was pulled from the Thames and positively identified as Rebecca Bridger, she'd never believe that Ophelia was dead.

  ***

  “Spare some change?”

  As commuters hurried past on their way to work, Josephine sat with her back against a wall. In front of her, a polystyrene cup had the words 'Please help' scribbled in black lettering, but so far only a few pennies had been thrown in, even though she'd been begging since dawn. Nearby, her cart stood waiting, filled with items she'd collected over the years.

  “Spare some change?” she asked again. “Spare -”

  Before she could finish, she started coughing. The fits came and went, but it took fully half a minute before she was able to get her breathing under control again. With the cart having become so heavy, pushing it around was taking a toll on her health. Just as she was starting to feel calm again, she heard a heavy, jangling thud as something metallic landed in the cup.

  Leaning forward, she saw to her surprise that someone had left a set of car keys for her.

  Looking both ways along the street, she tried to see if there was anyone she recognized, but the mysterious donor had already blended in with
the crowd. Pulling the keys from the cup, Josephine got to her feet and limped along the pavement, before spotting the car parked nearby. It was the same car that Ophelia had promised to anyone who came up with information that helped her find Daniel Gregory.

  “Yes!” she hissed, hurrying toward the car with the keys in her hand.

  COMING SOON

  Tin Soldiers

  (Ophelia 4)

  When political journalist James Mortimore is given the scoop of a lifetime, he thinks he's about to lift the lid on a massive scandal. His boss, however, has other ideas and immediately scraps the story, telling him to forget every word. Determined to keep pushing on, however, James quickly finds himself being drawn into a dark conspiracy in which dangerous figures are willing to kill in order to keep their secrets.

  Just as his situation seems hopeless, James runs into two people who might actually be able to help. Having finally been reunited with Ophelia, Laura is determined to regain her old confidence and make a mark in the world. Unfortunately for all three of them, however, they've begun to attract the attention of some of the most powerful people in the country.

  Tin Soldiers is the start of a new trilogy of Ophelia novels.

  OTHER BOOKS

  BY AMY CROSS INCLUDE

  Horror

  3AM

  The Farm

  Tenderling

  The Girl Clay

  The Prison

  Asylum

  American Coven

  The Night Girl

  Devil's Briar

  Ward Z

  Ward Z: Revelation

  The Last Priest

  The Devil's Photographer

  Darper Danver series 1

  Fantasy / Horror

  Dark Season series 1, 2 & 3

  The Hollow Church (Abby Hart 1)

  Vampire Asylum (Abby Hart 2)

  Dead Souls Volume One: Parts 1 to 13