Project - 16

by Martyn J. Pass

  “I'm not expecting there to be any serious resistance at this stage,” she whispered into my ear. “But you can't risk it."

  “I'll give you three hours,” I said, setting my watch. “After that I'll come looking.”

  “If you do, be careful.”

  “I will. I've done a bit of sneaking around before," I said.

  “Yeah, you have. Too long on your own. After this-”

  I stopped her. “Count your life in days out here,” I said. “Let's just get through this one first.”

  I leaned forward and pressed my lips to her forehead. There were tears in the corners of her eyes and they glittered as the light caught them. We held each other for a moment before she got up and disappeared into the night.

  I waited a few minutes before heading back up to the house and I sat in the chair with my ears alert to any sound that came through the rattle of the rain on the stone outside. It was coming down hard now. I sat there unable to relax and wished I had some coffee to brew. I tried to think about the house, about the crops I'd plant next year, about what foods to stock up on, which ones I'd enjoyed the most, mundane things like that - anything other than where Riley was and if she was safe. Right now all that other stuff seemed pointless and stupid. Only she mattered to me now but that desire didn't mean I could stop her being Claudia Riley, retired Ranger. Any attempt to stuff her into a glass cabinet of my own making would be the death of us. She'd suffocate under such oppressive feelings and I'd stop being the man I'd spent years trying to become, the one Dad wanted me to be despite my crayon tantrums at five years old and my anxiety issues much later. He'd been a patient man and I'd failed to notice. He was dead by the time I'd managed to put together the words I'd wanted to share with him.

  The minutes ticked by slowly and there was still nothing from outside. That had to be a good sign if nothing else. Gunfire or shouting would have sent me flying down the hill after her.

  Could I risk thinking about the future with Riley? Could I dare hope that we had a future together? The possibility that I'd ever meet the woman I wanted to fall in love with had been something I thought I'd put to rest a long time ago. When I imagined myself with someone, it hadn't been Riley and I was happy to have my preconceptions smashed by her. But could I see us at the house together? Would she take to the only life I had to offer her? Or would it need to change?

  I didn't have to think for long. Just after the two hour mark, I heard her coming down the gravel path. I looked out of the window and saw her carrying two heavy bags and she threw one to the floor, waving at me to come and grab it for her.

  “Well?” I whispered.

  “You don't have to worry - they're way down there on the other side of the village. Grab the bag and let's get inside. I'm soaked.”

  Once we were out of the rain she dropped the bag and slumped into the chair, dripping water into dusty patches on the stone tiled floor. She was breathing heavily and beads of rain and sweat gathered on her brow.

  “You need to get out of those clothes,” I said.

  “Yeah, I bet you'd like that,” she replied, barely able to laugh as she caught her breath.

  “I think I’ve got more on my mind than that. Here, let me help you.” I hoisted her jumper and shirt over her head and hung both of them on a nail. She dropped her pants and I saw blood coming from her thigh.

  “Get a bandage on it,” I said, rooting in my pack for one. “You've managed to tear it open but it's not too bad at the moment.”

  “There's more clothes in the bag,” she said. “I managed to get us plenty of kit - plus a few weapons and rounds for the rifle. They've got all sorts of shit down there - they've got a fucking armoury in the back of a trailer and crates full of MREs. I didn't know your sizes so I had to guess.”

  I passed her my last bandage and she secured it around her thigh. Then I rooted through the bags and began unpacking it all onto the bed. She'd been busy. I handed her a pair of fresh combats and some underwear.

  “What's the score then?” I asked once she'd put on a jumper - the same style as the one she'd taken off. “Do they all shop at the Ranger store?”

  “They're mercs all right - hence the gear. It's all expensive shit, the kind no soldier could afford to buy and wear in the States. And I hate to say it...”

  “But?”

  “You were right. They've got one of those enormous fucking drills and they're trying to get into the upper floors of the bunker with it. They've got shifts running night and day. They've been here for a week at least.”

  “Any signs of Corban?”

  “No, but I think he's there. The HQ was a shipping crate but it was too well guarded for me to get close. I managed to get a rough head count.”

  “And?”

  “I'd put it at 60, give or take a few. They're running thirds - 20 on shift at any one time. It isn't a fucking battalion but it's enough to take a bunker with two people in it.”

  “So they're not NSU then?” I said.

  “No, I think I’ve met a few of them before. I saw some familiar faces. Blackthunder maybe or one of the ones working in South Africa at the moment.” Her face shifted to a wry grin. “Look in the other bag!”

  I found no less than fifteen silver packs of MREs - all lemon sponge.

  “Really?” I said.

  “Pass me one - I'm starving here.” She tore it open and began spooning the cold slop into her mouth, moaning with pleasure. “It was worth the hassle to get them. And before you ask - no, they didn't have any stoves or fuel - hence why I'm eating it cold.”

  “What else did you learn?” I asked, tearing open one. It didn't taste that bad cold.

  “The helicopter we saw is there, plus room to launch a couple of drones but they weren't on the strip of highway they're using for it.”

  “Did you hear any talk?”

  “Nothing that wasn't about fucking women or sticking their dicks up each others asses. We had the same problem in the Rangers. Mouths like sewers.” I didn't say anything to that. “But no, I didn't catch anything interesting.”

  We finished eating to the sounds of the drill far off - a methodical pulsing as the bit tore into the earth until it reached the concrete wall of the bunker. I assumed it would be made of concrete. Or would it be metal? Some kind of thick steel defence? I didn't know - I'd never seen one being built nor read about one.

  When she'd finished, Riley scrunched the foil pack into a ball and placed it in one of the bags. She licked the spoon clean and tucked it back into her pack before sorting out her loot. I watched her from the other side of the room as she put together her kit into Piotr's bag, moving with the smooth skill of someone who was thriving off the thrill of the action. I wondered if she could ever truly leave it behind, it was such a big part of who she was.

  When she'd finished she threw a blanket on the floor and led out on it, resting her head on a rolled up jumper.

  "I'm going to take a nap," she said, patting the space next to her with a smile. "Care to join me?" Before I did I checked my rifle and bag were by the door and led out next to her.

  Thankfully, Riley was snoring in moments and as I crept softly out through the door I took one last look at her, wondering if it would be my last

  The truth? I wanted to face Corban alone and I couldn't risk him knowing that Riley had survived. I couldn't be sure but I was pretty confident that his priority had been to kill Riley - the only person who posed a real threat to what he was up to there. Even if she didn't take direct action, she might still go home and tell her story to the Government or worse still the media. Maybe now that wasn't an issue for him. Maybe it still was. I'd soon know.

  I made my way carefully across to the area where the drilling was taking place and raised my rifle over my head, whistling to get the attention of the nearest soldier stood with his back to me, watching the others work. He spun round, startled and reached for his rifle propped against an oil barrel.

  “Hey, hold on!” I cried. “I'm here to see C
orban.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” said the American soldier.

  “My name is Miller - Corban knows who I am.”

  “Come closer and keep the rifle in the air! Try anything and I'll nail you to the fucking wall.”

  The drill team had all turned to stare at me and two more soldiers appeared, aiming their rifles straight at me. I moved across the floodlit area as slowly as I could, my head down, avoiding eye contact. When I was close enough, the first soldier reached up and snatched the rifle from out of my hands.

  “Slowly take off the pack and put your hands on your head!” he barked. I did as he asked. “Turn around.”

  When I'd done this he produced a set of cuffs and fastened them to my wrists so that my arms were behind my back. Then he shoved me round and began marching me off towards a battered red shipping crate which spilled light from the doorway. Soldiers began appearing from different places around the camp, looking to see what all the noise was about.

  “Where the fuck did you come from?” asked the soldier.

  “I'm from the north, sir,” I replied. “I work for Corban.”

  “We'll see about that, dude. You stumbled into a privately owned piece of land and you're lucky we didn't shoot you dead.”

  “Yeah, I'm sorry, sir. I saw the lights, that's all.”

  “Your accent - it sounds weird. Where are you from?”

  “Here, sir. I'm English.”

  “English? Man, I thought all you fuckers had run after the Commies beat the shit out of you.”

  “I think I'm the only one left, sir.”

  “Ain't that the fucking truth. If you're telling it right then the Colonel's been waiting for you for quite a while now.”

  “Has he, sir?”

  “Yeah. He sure has.”

  We went through the open doors, past two sentries who nodded to the soldier escorting me, letting us in. The halogen lamp hanging overhead blinded me for a moment and when the glare faded I saw the Colonel sat at a make-shift desk made from ammo boxes. He was out of uniform and he looked just like the others with their combats and jumper - just like Riley did.

  “Miller!” he cried, standing up. “How the fuck are you? You're late!” He looked at the soldier and with a gesture my cuffs were taken off. “Can I get you a coffee, Miller?”

  “Will that be all, sir?” asked the soldier.

  “Yeah, that's all, Mike. Leave us be - Miller here is an old friend. We're safe enough.”

  “Okay sir.”

  The soldier left and the Colonel offered me a folding seat that was leaning against the wall. I popped it open and placed it in front of the desk whilst he poured hot water into two cups of instant coffee.

  “Sorry Miller - I know how you like your coffee but all I’ve got is this instant shit.”

  “It's fine,” I said.

  “It's not fine, Miller, it's not fine. None of this is 'fine' now. But we have to make do, don't we?"

  "I guess so," I said. Corban made the drinks and passed me one, sitting back down with his coffee in both hands, blowing across its surface, making ripples in the hot brown liquid.

  "Okay Miller - hit me with the bad news. What happened to Riley? Did she cut and run on you?"

  “Not got a clue,” I said. “After leaving you we headed to my house and stayed there a few days, waiting to hear from you, using the equipment she brought with her. What happened? We heard nothing."

  “Sorry, pal - things got a little hairy back State-side and we fell out of touch. I got fresh orders to return last week so I planned to make contact once we'd set up HQ but I have to confess it slipped my mind. You managed without the Intel? Did your Dad's books turn up anything?”

  “Just an obscure reference here and there. The first bunker we checked out was a waste of time.”

  “Was Riley with you then?” he asked. I noticed that there was a nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth and that he'd been blowing the coffee for longer than instant coffee needed.

  “Yeah, she was with me then. After that we returned home and tried the comms again, but as you say, there was nothing.”

  “Hell, I'm really sorry about that Miller. I truly am.”

  “It's nothing,” I said. “Besides - it's worked out okay I guess. We began heading to the next bunker on our list but after a day or so Riley began to lose her temper, said we should be driving and not walking. I tried to explain how I didn't have enough fuel to drive us there and back and she was having none of it. We were passing Manchester when she broke off, yelling that she'd find a car and drive back for me. I'm sorry to say, Colonel, that she wasn't quite the Ranger I'd expected her to be.”

  “Not up to your standards, eh?” he said. “Again, I'm sorry for that. She has a great history. Syria, Iraq, Georgia. I guess maybe the war got to her in the end.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, that was the last time I saw her.”

  “Shame. A real fucking shame.” We drank our coffee and the Colonel looked past me to the sentries stood at the door, the twitch still twitching. “Yeah,” he repeated absently. “A shame.”

  “Well - looks like you've found what she was looking for anyway. I saw the drill on my way in.”

  “Oh, that? Nah, that's not for them. That's what they sent me back for. Some kind of research or something. The C and C wants a server or something from in there. You don't mind, do you?”

  “Mind?” I said. “Why would I mind?”

  “Well I guess I’ve always seen this as yours and your Dad's country. I must admit I’ve always felt like I shouldn't be here.” I waved away his concerns with a smile.

  “Who cares at the end of the day? I’ve got my house and maybe once things are straightened out in the States you'll get back to sending your green troops over for a bit of real training.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” He wasn't even attempting to look at me now. His eyes stared through me and there was a tremor in his hands. "I always meant to ask your Pop a question," he said.

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. I think I just never got round to it. Well, of course, I never did. The poor guy is dead. What I'm saying is I wish I had."

  "What was the question?" I asked.

  "How did he cope?"

  "How did he cope?," I said, puzzled. "You mean with the way things were?"

  "Yeah. How did he wake up in a morning and carry on knowing that everything he loved had gone? Destroyed. Dead. How did he do it?"

  I sensed that Corban wasn't asking a question he expected me to answer. I felt a little nervous as his eyes glazed over. He was thinking about America. The question was for him, not my Dad.

  "I never asked," I lied. "He just seemed to get on with things. He didn't seem to dwell on it much."

  "Good for him," he muttered. "Miller - how did he die?"

  The question knocked me for six. I sat there, stunned, motionless. Deer in the headlights.

  "I..."

  "He was young when he died, if you think about it. So what killed him? I always wanted to know. When the report came over the radio, the operator told me you'd already buried him, that he'd been dead for three days and it was the grief that kept you from calling for a medic to deal with the body. Is that right?"

  "Yes," I managed to say. It was the only tiny word that could get past the blockage in my throat.

  "What did he die of? We've no medical report. No autopsy. Only your verdict. What was your 'medical opinion'?"

  "He... just died."

  "He 'just' died? Just like that." Corban snapped his fingers together. "Bam. Gone. Heart attack?"

  "No."

  "No? How do you know?"

  "I know," I said.

  "You know? You 'just' know?"

  "Yes."

  "So I'll ask you again, Miller. How did you Father die?"

  It was my turn to look away, to avoid his staring eyes. I could see my Dad in his favourite chair, in the library, writing out one last letter that he sealed in a small brown envelope and gave me to keep safe. It was add
ressed to someone in the Ukraine and I was to deliver it to a soldier who'd visit one day. I only remembered later, much later. All I could see was the glass of cloudy white liquid on the table next to him. I remember that it didn't glisten like whiskey did when the light hit it. In fact, it looked like it was absorbing the light, sucking it in, drawing the life from my Dad.

  When he'd finished the letter he'd sat back in the chair, taking the glass in his hand and staring at the fire crackling in the hearth.

  "I love you, son," he'd said. "But it has to be this way. I don't expect you to understand it now. But one day you will. You may even want the same thing. If you do, remember what I've done. My affairs are in order. I'm still of sound mind. I'm still in control. If I let nature take its course then that'll go. It'll destroy me very, very slowly and it'll harm you too, having to watch it happen."

  I'd nodded. There were no words in me at that point.

  "I want you to go soon. I want you to go find those kids the Colonel told you about. In three days I want you to call in my death. Tell them nothing, they won't understand anyway. Whatever you do, don't come back in here until they've taken my body - do you understand?" Nod. "Good. There's nothing more to say, son. It's time for me to go."

  "I love you, Dad," I said.

  "I love you too, son."

  Corban was still looking at me. "Well?"

  "He died. That's all. I'm no doctor. It just seemed right to bury him in my own way," I said.

  "Oh," he replied, turning away. "I just wondered, that's all."

  We both went quiet until the coffee was gone. Then I stood up, ready to go.

  “I was thinking of maybe being cheeky and asking for a lift back home," I said. "I don't fancy walking all that way again. I understand if you can't it's just-”

  “That's not going to be possible, Miller.”

  “Oh, okay, maybe I could just scrounge some-”

  “Miller,” he said, producing a pistol from under the desk. “You're not going anywhere until you tell me where that bitch is.”

  I raised my hands, palms out. “I don't understand - I’ve told you, Colonel.”