by Stuart Keane
Kathryn smiled. “Nothing is ever easy. So what’s the first port of call?”
Iain didn’t respond. He nodded forwards. “Looks like fate has decided this for us.”
Kathryn gazed ahead. Boyd emerged from the door in front of them, but he hadn’t spotted them yet. In unison, Iain and Kathryn ducked behind their cover. Boyd was limping, wincing as he moved, and he was sweating. He had wrapped a dirty rag around the wound in his leg. Blood had soaked it, turning it a pinky brown colour. His greasy hair was hanging, unkempt, and fell across his face, he kept batting it out of his eyes with the back of his hand. Once, it even looked as if he was trying to tuck it behind his missing ear. His knife was in his waistband and he was muttering to himself.
“Where are ya? Ruin my leg, will ya? When I get my hands on ya, you’ll be dead meat!”
Boyd turned his back to them. Iain leant over and whispered to Kathryn, “We need to do this quietly. If we alert them all that we’re on this floor, we’ll be cornered. We need a big enough distraction to allow us to get into the lift without being seen.”
“So that’s the gun out of the equation,” Kathryn replied.
Iain looked across at Boyd. He was heading further into the room, away from them. Iain noticed a number of desks between them and Boyd that might provide cover. “Kathryn, follow me. Keep low and be quiet.”
Iain moved behind Kathryn and they went behind the next desk. The office’s furniture was arranged so as to form a series of L shapes, thus allowing Iain and Kathryn to cross the room without being seen. Iain moved along behind one of the desks. Staring ahead, Iain calculated that he’d be able to make it halfway across the room, and Boyd would not know. After a few seconds, he moved behind the next desk. He was slowly inching towards Boyd, the desks providing excellent cover, and silence was guaranteed, because the carpet muffled his approach.
Kathryn caught on to what he was doing and followed suit, crouching and following on behind her new friend. Boyd was slowly moving further into the room, then he stopped to survey the situation. As he turned, he was rubbing his chin, as if it was still painful from when he’d crashed into the desk earlier on. Kathryn smiled, remembering the incident once again.
Iain grabbed a stationery organiser from the desk beside him. He took the pens out and laid them on the ground, then peeked over the edge of the desk and watched his enemy. Boyd still had his back to them, and Iain was hiding behind the last of the desks. Where the other man was standing, there was plenty of space beside him, enough for an ambush. But if he moved, he would be in plain sight of Boyd. Watching his foe, Iain held the organiser in his hand and took aim. He looked at Kathryn and whispered: “One… Two… On the noise, you move with me.”
Iain threw his makeshift missile. It flew across the room, behind the couple, and bounced off the wall, making a loud clunking noise. Iain crouched down and watched for Boyd’s reaction. The man spun round immediately, turning towards the noise. He smiled and licked his lips. He pulled his knife from his belt and moved towards the other side of the room. Iain crossed into the space where the other man had been standing, and Kathryn followed. Iain raced forward, no longer trying to hide, heading straight for the lifts.
They made good progress until Kathryn knocked over a lamp, her foot catching the cable protruding from under a desk. She was only aware of a tug on her ankle, as the reading lamp was dragged sideways, toppled off the desk, and fell to the floor. There was a loud crash as the lamp’s heavy china base smashed as it hit the floor.
“Shit!” Kathryn’s yell was instinctive.
Boyd turned around. Kathryn and Iain were caught in full view of their potential killer. Boyd licked his lips again. “My. I’m gonna have fun with your arse, little lady – all this chasing is turnin’ me on, yeah!”
Boyd bounced athletically towards them, his knife was held up at a deadly angle. He was stabbing the air with it, anticipating sinking it into hot flesh. For a few seconds Kathryn and Iain merely watched the ludicrous performance.
He was nearing them when Kathryn grabbed a chair beside her and pushed it towards the enraged knifeman. Unable to stop in time, Boyd’s momentum carried him forwards, so that he tripped and landed with his knees on the chair’s seat, careering along on the chair’s castors. Then his badly balanced weight caused the chair to overbalance, tipping him off as he lurched forward. Instinctively pushing his hands forward to protect himself when he crashed forward into the ground, the knife he was holding had been forgotten.
At the point of impact, his knife had been forced back against his neck, its blade sinking deep. Nothing happened for a second. Then blood started to spray outwards. As he rolled sideways, the crimson liquid spurted down his front, staining his chest and shorts. His eyes bulged. Gurgling noises came from Boyd’s mouth.
The injured man tried to pull the razor-sharp blade free, but its point had entered his throat at an obtuse angle. Now crouched on all fours, Boyd attempted to use the chair to pull himself upright. But as he reached out his hand, fumbling blindly, he missed the chair’s back rest and fell forward once more. As he did so, he landed face first and the end of the knife’s handle struck the chair’s seat, and was driven even more deeply into his neck. A fountaining spurt of blood swept upwards, coating the desk beside him. Boyd’s dying body started to twitch in its death throes. He tried rolling over, but didn’t have the strength. His arms flailed helplessly as he died face down on top of the chair that had killed him. After a few seconds, his body stopped twitching. Then all was still.
Iain and Kathryn looked on in shock, relieved at their good fortune. Overall the whole incident had only taken a minute. Luckily there hadn’t been much noise, and already blood was pooling on the carpet, litres of it, soaking into the deep pile.
Iain grabbed Kathryn by the arm. “We should go. It won’t take long for the others to realise he is missing.”
Kathryn agreed. This was their one chance to get to the roof. Kathryn followed Iain around the corner, and Iain stopped outside the lifts. After a second, he pushed the call button. The silver circle lit up red. Kathryn noticed the numbers were descending from four to three: the lift would arrive in several seconds.
“Iain,” she said, worried now. “It’s going to make a noise when it arrives. At work no one even notices the noise of its arrival because there’s so much other background sound. But in this building it will be heard. So be prepared to run in and hit the ‘four’ button. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Kathryn edged towards the stairs. She looked down them and listened intently. She couldn’t hear anything. Looking ahead she could see Boyd’s dead legs partially in view through the doorway. Even from here, she could see the splattering of blood everywhere. She couldn’t see any movement from below. One down, she thought, but three to go.
DING.
Kathryn turned and leapt through the doors, closely followed by Iain, who pushed the ‘four’ button. The doors didn’t close. Agonising seconds passed as the door remained open. Iain hammered the button with his thumb. As it started closing, a huge arm reached through and the fingers grabbed Kathryn by the hair, yanking hard.
“Argh! Get the fuck off me!”
The hand was pulling Kathryn towards the door, which wouldn’t close because the arm was blocking it. Kathryn’s head smashed into the metal door as he jerked her towards him, and her rucksack became entangled in the door, jamming it open even more. The automatic safety mechanism rolled the door fully open, while Iain frantically pressed the ‘close door’ button, but to no avail: the muscular arm was precluding closure. Pulled along like a rag doll, Kathryn’s head was smashed into the door time and time again. Despite Kathryn digging her sharp nails into the enemy’s relentlessly gripping hand, no way could she get him to let go. Kathryn’s head felt as if it would split apart, as her hair was being torn from her scalp.
“Shit! Fuck! Argh!”
Iain raised the pistol and aimed it at the hand, then directed it along the forearm, afrai
d of inadvertently blowing a hole in Kathryn’s head.
“Let go or I’ll blow your fucking hand off!” he yelled.
The hand didn’t release. It gripped tighter and continued to pull. Kathryn spun in its grip, trying to break free. Iain thumbed the gun’s hammer back, his finger resting on the trigger. “Kathryn, cover your ears, do it now!” he shouted.
Realising what he was doing, she did so. The fist, freed from her clutching fingers, gripped even tighter for a few seconds. Iain covered his left ear with his free hand. Then he pulled the trigger.
BAM!
Iain felt his eardrum rupture as the gunfire noise rocked the small space. The gun’s recoil knocked his hand back into his chest, and he dropped it, so that it bounced to the floor with a thud. He fell back against the wall, having watched the man’s forearm erupt into a huge cloud of red blood and bone. A flap of muscle floated free from the arm, still attached at one end. Kathryn had her eyes closed and her ears covered but her face was now a mask of blood and sinew. She fell to the ground as the hand released her hair. Her rucksack bounced against her back. She inched backwards on her bottom, getting further into the lift’s space.
Muffled screams erupted from outside the lift as what was left of the hand retreated. With the blood-covered appendage finally gone, the door closed. And the lift started to ascend. Kathryn opened her eyes. She wiped the blood from her face. Iain was leaning against the mirrored interior wall. Blood was dripping from his right ear. Kathryn pushed herself to her feet and checked on him. He looked at her, dazed. Her ears still ringing with the blast of the gunshot, Kathryn looked at the buttons on the panel and saw the indicator flash to four.
“We have to go,” she yelled at him. “We only have a few minutes. Are you ready?”
Iain nodded. He held his head. As he stood up, the lift smoothed to a stop.
DING.
Kathryn bent down and scooped up the pistol, slipping it behind her belt buckle. She gripped Iain’s arm and pulled him out of the lift, and then darted left. There was a double door in front of her. She pushed against it with her shoulder and, despite meeting a lot of resistance at first, she managed to barge through, dragging Iain behind her.
They emerged in a meeting room. Rows of desks were arranged neatly within the space, and there were no computers. The desks were unoccupied, and there were windows in all the walls. The room was in darkness until the lights flickered to life. She turned around and spotted the fire exit. It was a crude door at the end of a wall, beside the windows. It looked as if this room had been unoccupied for some time, judging by the thin sheen of dust that lay on the desktops. Iain leaned against one, sending dust bunnies up into the air.
Kathryn strode up to the fire exit and pushed at the door, but it wouldn’t open. She then tried knocking down the emergency exit bar, but still there was no movement. Finally she kicked the door hard, and at last it flung backwards, clattering against the fire escape railing behind it, as the cold night air rushed into the room. The refreshing breeze felt good, and she paused for a moment to suck in a few mouthfuls. Kathryn stepped outside, and found that the fire escape held her weight. She beckoned to Iain to follow her.
She noticed a ladder leading upwards to the left that was positioned in front of the windows, at the end of a tiny fire escape. Kathryn doubted more than one person at a time could squeeze onto it. Her feet made metallic tapping noises as she walked. “Iain, get up there,” she called to him. “When you reach the top, wait. If you have to, hide.”
Iain nodded. He went past her, leapt up the ladder and disappeared over the edge of the roof. Kathryn put her foot on the bottom rung. She positioned her rucksack on her back and closed the fire exit door behind her.
Seconds later, looking through the window into the room they’d just left, she saw the door burst open and Sputnik stepped into view. He was holding an assault rifle in front of him. Kathryn’s eyes grew wide as she stepped away and sprung up the ladder. As her feet cleared the windows, they shattered in a cacophony of glass, bullets and screaming voices. Kathryn rolled onto the roof, and Iain stared at her in awe. “What the fuck was that noise?”
“Sputnik’s right behind us. He looks pissed,” she snapped.
“That’s no surprise, after all, we did kill his little brother.”
Kathryn couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “Boyd was his brother?”
“Yep. He was quite protective of him, if I remember rightly. Never mind, eh?”
“Thanks for the heads up on that.” Kathryn climbed to her feet and surveyed the roof, realising that she hadn’t been up on the roof before, so had no knowledge of its geography to use in this facsimile building. She saw a walkway in the distance, and there were a few generators fixed onto the roof’s surface. Turning around, she noticed a small doorway, further behind, clearly another access entry to the roof. Maybe a maintenance entrance?
The fire escape treads started to make a squeaking noise, advertising that someone was using them. Sputnik was on his way. His footsteps were slow. For a man of his size, if he was smart, he would take his time. Kathryn realised they didn’t have long to make their move.
Beyond the door she could see more buildings on the horizon, but the darkness meant that only vague outlines could be seen. She could see the theatre building. It was angled to the right of the walkway that led off the roof. The theatre’s neon lights cast a shallow beacon of pink and yellow into the black sky. Although she wasn’t familiar with this roof, she knew that the walkway led across to the next building, where it was possible to go down a fire escape to the street. Beforehand she had a sneaking suspicion that this was the case, and now it was confirmed. The walkway was about fifty metres away.
The sound of the footsteps on the access ladder ceased. Then they started again, however this time they were different. Was it a second set of feet? Kathryn heard muttering, and the footsteps halted. There was silence for a moment. Then the ladder started to shake once more. Was Sputnik testing its strength? At that moment, Kathryn wished that her foes had been idiots, unable to foresee difficulties. Time was ebbing away. A plan was required.
Iain was crouched by one of the generators, holding his head in his hands. Kathryn cupped his face next to hers and looked into his eyes. “Can you hear me?” she shouted. Iain nodded in silence. Blood was still ebbing from his ear. Kathryn hoped that by covering his other ear with his hand, he’d avoided damage to both of them. If he could hear her, she realised, that was a good sign.
Keeping an eye on the ladder, Kathryn opened her rucksack and pulled out a shirt, and used it to wipe the blood from Iain’s ear. She pulled out a small first aid kit she had recovered and placed some pills into Iain’s palm. “Take these for the pain, and here,” Kathryn gave him a can of Coke to wash them down. Iain smiled, placed the pills on his tongue and swallowed a mouthful of the drink.
“Thanks. My whole head is throbbing.”
Kathryn nodded. “Well, you probably just ruptured your eardrum.”
Iain drank some more Coke and handed the can to Kathryn, who took a mouthful herself. After she’d finished she placed the can on the ground. Footsteps could be heard on the ladder rungs now. One, then two, then three.
BOOM!
The maintenance door on the other side of the roof shattered and burst open. It swung on one hinge then fell to the ground in pieces. Specks of wood floated in the air. Genghis squeezed through the door. He was carrying a pump-action shotgun. Iain’s eyes widened. “Shotgun! GET DOWN!”
Kathryn and Iain ducked behind a generator. Genghis stepped onto the roof, his chest wrapped in fresh white bandages, and his dark skin shiny with sweat. Iain realised that shooting him hadn’t done as much damage as he’d hoped. The steroids in the man’s system had probably reduced the pain. Genghis waited, he was clearly going to take his time. He clasped the gun and thrust it into the air, the dreaded noise of the shotgun reloading in the night air.
SNIK SNAK
Sputnik climbed onto the roof and sto
od beside him. His machine gun was hanging off his back in a sling. The third man was nowhere to be seen. Kathryn didn’t expect to see Boyd any time soon.
One down, three to go.
Kathryn calculated that the metal generator casing would be enough to protect them from a full frontal attack. She could hear fans whirring inside the device. She raised her pistol and took aim. Iain shuffled behind her, disorientated from his injury, something that Kathryn was grimly aware of. Something dawned on her.
She was in charge now.
Sputnik approached Genghis and patted him on the shoulder. Genghis showed no pain in his face. Sputnik swivelled towards where Kathryn and Iain were hiding.
“Kappa, I am disappointed,” he called out. “We used to be friends.”
Iain grimaced. “We were never friends. There are no friends within The Company.”
Sputnik laughed. “Too true. At least you remember the rules and regulations. Maybe you were born to be in The Game. You should play it more often. I could use a recruit like you.”
“The Game is history, Sputnik. The Game is no more. The Chronicle, your Chronicle is dead. You have no mentor. What you are doing here is pointless.”
Sputnik laughed again. “You’re right, it was pointless. I was willing to organise a truce. Until you killed my retard brother. You of all people know what he was like. Five tools short of a shed, you might say. You know how I held that fool close to my heart.”
“Your brother was a freak, as well as a danger to himself and everyone around him. He needed putting out of his misery.”
Kathryn regarded Iain warily. Was he intentionally trying to piss off Sputnik?
“Ha, yes, maybe that’s true. As the old saying goes though. An eye for an eye…”
Iain said nothing. Kathryn looked at him.
Sputnik whistled. “Well, as far as I can see, we have a machine gun, a shotgun and plenty of ammo. You have a pistol, and a long roof to escape from. I bet you’ll end up on the losing side. Yes, I’ll take that bet. I reckon we could pick you off before you even get off this roof. Care to run and prove me wrong?”
