Hunters: A Trilogy

by Paul A. Rice

  ‘Ssshhh… he’s here!’ she said, turning her back towards the direction O’Hara was approaching from. Then, in tune with her disguise, Jane bent forward as if to study the map. They never heard the target reach her, but the blue flashing ‘Target Approaching’ icon now indicated his immediate presence.

  O’Hara’s voice filtered through the half-open door.

  ‘Are you lost, love?’

  Ken tensed in readiness to lean forward and grab the man; he knew that once Jane pushed him into the back of the van, they would have to act quickly.

  Jane looked up and turned towards the man outside the van. They heard her say something to him and then, after a slight pause, the strong smell of George’s aerosol oozed into their nostrils. There was the noise of a scuffle, followed by a muffled ‘crack’ outside the van. O’Hara cried out and then toppled into the vehicle with Jane clinging to him like a demented limpet. As his shins hit the door sill, he and Jane tipped over and fell headfirst into Ken and Mike’s waiting arms. Jane was holding on for dear life – gasping sharply as she and O’Hara crashed into the rear of the van together.

  ‘Good girl, well done!’ Ken said, as he grabbed O’Hara and tried to lever him away from his wife’s grasp. ‘Let him go, it’s all good, I have him now!’ She looked up at him and he saw the fear in her eyes. ‘Jane! What’s the matter?’ Ken asked, looking into her face.

  Mike grabbed O’Hara and dragged him from under her. ‘We need to get out of here, I’ll drive, you sort Jane out – c’mon, let’s move!’ he said, clambering over the half-bulkhead and falling into the driver’s seat.

  Ken reached outside and grabbed O’Hara’s bag, before he slid the side door closed and snapped the lock downwards. As the van began to move, he turned back to Jane. She sat against the small bulkhead and was clasping her side. ‘What’s happened, did he hit you or something, where does it hurt?’ Ken asked. He lifted her fingers away and then looked in horror at the blood seeping down his wife’s hip.

  Jane whispered: ‘He shot me… Ken, I think I’ve been shot!’ Her face was a horrible white, making her brown eyes stand out against its ashen background. Blood was spreading across the lower half of her white blouse – it looked like a flower, a bright-red poppy.

  Ken’s experience took over automatically. ‘Right, sit still and bring your knees up,’ he ordered. ‘Okay, gently does it, don’t worry about a thing, baby, just let me take a little look!’ He rolled her top upwards and tried to pull the flight suit apart with his fingers so he was able examine the wound. The material had a tiny hole in it, but would not tear. Ken spent about five seconds trying, without success.

  ‘We gotta get this top off you,’ he said, calmly. ‘Hold on, stay still, you’re gonna be fine.’ He undressed her top half and rolled the suit down from her shoulders before draping the blouse back over them. Jane was already starting to shiver with shock as Ken explored her wound. There was a small hole above her left hip and it was seeping bright red blood onto her waistband. Running his hand around her side, Ken felt the flower of torn flesh where the bullet had exited her back – it lay about half an inch to the outside of her spine.

  ‘Okay… I’ve found it, don’t worry, it’s only a little hole,’ he lied to her, trying to keep his voice reassuringly calm. Turning to the front, he said, ‘Mike, we need to get some help, I don’t have my med kit with me.’

  It wasn’t something they had even thought about. George hadn’t mentioned anything about getting shot. Ken had never considered that he may need a medic pack – he cursed himself for his complete lack of foresight.

  The Scanner made a loud buzzing noise and then went blank for a second. George appeared – the picture was so clear that even the hairs on his ears were visible. ‘Take the vehicle to this place,’ he ordered, pointing at the arrow, which had appeared on the screen. ‘Follow that, immediately! Kenneth, I need you to gather your equipment, and make sure that you have the second Spear ready.’

  Ken looked at the screen and then back to Jane. ‘And then what?’ he snapped. ‘Jane’s hurt, we need to…’

  George cut him short before he was able to finish. ‘Yes, we know,’ he said. ‘Take this vehicle to the destination as shown. Get yourselves, O’Hara, and all of your equipment out. Leave Jane in the van and continue with your mission in the second Spear. We will take care of your wife. Please ensure that you put her suit back on.’

  His manner denied any argument and Ken immediately turned back to Jane, she was conscious, but only just. He whispered into her ear: ‘It’s going to be all right, George and the gang are gonna fix you right up. Don’t worry!’

  She grasped his hand and closed her eyes. Ken kissed her hand and then looked down at her wound again, the bright blood had stopped flowing and it was now leaking a darker-coloured fluid. He didn’t pause to think about it. He rolled Jane’s suit back over her shoulders and after jiggling the sleeves over her arms, draped the blouse back over her shoulders, before gently laying her flat with knees drawn up.

  Steadying himself against the motion of the swaying van, he reached for the case and began doing as George had ordered. Fortunately he didn’t have a lot to do, as within three minutes the van came to a halt.

  ‘Right… we’re here – I’ll come round the back and help you!’ Mike said. He left the driver’s seat and ran around to the side door, banging on it until the noise jarred Ken into reaching across and undoing the lock.

  As he looked out, Ken saw that they were in some kind of park. Tall beech trees overhung the van and he saw the corner of an old wooden hut in the distance. He handed Mike the second Spear and its zapper, Mike ran a short distance before placing the vehicle on the grass, fumbling with the fob before he managed to zap it. With the Spear doing its magic act behind him, he turned back to help Ken again. They lifted O’Hara out of the van and dumped him across the back seats of the new Spear. His eyes were wide open and there was a tiny fleck of green saliva stuck to his bottom lip. There was also a slight damp patch in his crotch, just at the top of his left thigh. Ken felt like beating his face in.

  They placed their victim’s bag on the floor next to him and then transferred their own gear into the rear of the vehicle. Ken ran back to the van and sat with Jane, who was now unconscious. Mike did a quick check to make sure he had everything. Nearly forgetting, he leant into the front of the van and ejected the information disc. As he did so, the scanner started flashing again.

  ‘Standby, incoming personnel – wait!’

  Then the air began to thicken.

  Ken shouted from the rear: ‘What the hell is going on? I need to move her now, Mike!’ His voice cracked with anxiety.

  Mike said, ‘Wait, they’re sending someone, just wait, Kenny!’

  The air in the van wobbled, they saw it distort and then shimmer. Ken remembered looking into one of those strange mirrors at the fairground. As they watched in amazement, the men heard a familiar ripping sound. Out of nowhere, a man appeared, he simply plopped into the back of the van – it was like watching ice-cream drip from the bottom of a soggy cone, just before it collapses altogether and drops the whole lot into your lap. The man simply dripped into their world. And then, with a rush, he was there amongst them.

  ‘Oh, dearie me, that particular method of travel is no damned good, no damned good at all, I tell you!’ he complained, white teeth gleaming against his ebony skin. The man raised a chubby hand to his temple and repeated the ‘Dearie me!’ Focusing upon Ken’s face, he said, ‘Pleased to meetcha, Kenneth, I’m Melias Sturman – most people call me ‘Doc’.’

  Without waiting for a reply, he crawled up towards Jane and took hold of her hand. Taking a metal object from his pocket, he waved it over Jane’s stomach and then held it against her forehead. A dim pulse of light came from the front of the object; it appeared to be scanning her body. After a slight pause, a set of numbers flashed on the rear of the device – some of them were in red. Within seconds, Melias had injected Jane with another object, a long, shin
y object, which he withdrew from the pouch on his belt. It hissed as he held the thing against her arm. Jane immediately began to regain some colour to her cheeks, and, much to Ken’s relief, she also started to breathe more easily.

  Turning to his stunned audience, Melias said, ‘This young lady is in dire need of some attention, if you will excuse us, but I’m afraid we have to go. I believe you two gentlemen have a mission to complete. I am so terribly sorry about the introduction…’ He turned to Mike, said it was good to see him again and hoped they may meet later. ‘Don’t worry about Jane, my friends, she will be in the best of care, I promise you,’ he said, and then almost pushed Ken out of the van.

  Taking the hint, Mike also stepped out from the cab. The side door slid shut, and as the two men stood looking on with jaws open wide, Melias did the reverse of his amazing appearance trick. With a liquid whisper, he disappeared right before their eyes, only this time taking the van, and Jane, with him.

  As their departing gurgle faded, Ken turned to Mike, saying: ‘Now I’ve seen every-bloody-thing! God, I hope she’s gonna be all right! Who the fuck was that guy, how do you know him?’

  His friend said, ‘Let’s just say that it’s a long story. C’mon…we’d best go and drop this guy at the warehouse, you need to keep low, look at you – you’re covered in blood!’ Mike pointed at Ken’s arms and legs.

  Glancing down at himself, Ken was surprised by the amount of blood staining his shirt and jeans. ‘Shit, that’s not good… I couldn’t see properly when I was in the back of the van – she’s bleeding like crazy!’ He turned as if to get back in the van, a van that was no longer there, and then stopped. After a few seconds, Ken turned around and said, ‘Right, I’m good. She’ll be fine, let’s just get this cretin to his destination, shall we?’

  ‘Are you okay, Kenny?’ Mike asked, looking at him in concern. Ken’s ability to cope with bad situations was the one thing about his friend that Mike had always admired most of all; he had never seen Ken lose his cool, not once. But this was a slightly different set of circumstances.

  Ken stared at him. ‘Yeah, I’m good,’ he whispered, ‘what the hell was I gonna do anyway? Rock up at casualty and tell ‘em that the guy we kidnapped has just shot my wife – fucking hell, what a bloody mess!’ He turned back to the Spear and slid into the passenger side.

  Mike climbed in the driver’s seat and started the engine. Caressing the display button, he waited for a second and then inserted the disc. As soon as the data streamed onto the screen, he spun the wheel and followed the Navigator’s commands.

  Less than ten minutes later they arrived at their destination. The Scanner showed there to be four life-forms present, three inside the warehouse and one on the outside. Parked in the corner, almost out of sight, they saw the bonnet of a black, Jaguar saloon. Zooming in, Mike was able to show them a clear view of the driver as he sat dozing behind the steering wheel.

  ‘Right, just cruise past and get to that observation spot we picked the other day,’ Ken said, looking over the seat at O’Hara. The man seemed to be having some really bad dreams, his hands were clenching and unclenching and he kept grinding his teeth. Ken’s voice was filled with urgency. ‘This guy is gonna wake up in a minute, let’s get him out of the car!’ he said.

  Mike pulled up near their chosen spot and then reversed into it. The bushes and the rubbish concealed them as he manoeuvred into his final position overlooking the warehouse. ‘Okay, that’s it, there’s nobody on the Scanner – get him out,’ he said. ‘Do you need a hand?’ Ken declined, so Mike spent some time in adjusting the controls until he had the best view of the warehouse as was possible.

  Ken climbed out and opened the passenger door. He pulled O’Hara’s scrawny frame out by the armpits and then continued to drag him around the bushes to their front. Taking the man about twenty yards away, he dumped him uncaringly onto the soft verge before making his way back to the Spear to collect the black holdall. He had only just placed it by the man’s side when O’Hara started to stir. Hearing the gibberish the man began to emit, Ken quickly turned and ran back to the Spear. Mike was checking the back seat to make sure nothing had fallen out of their victim’s pockets.

  ‘Are we all clear?’ Ken asked, as he re-joined his friend.

  ‘Yeah, everything’s fine…is he coming around yet?’ Mike said. Seeing Ken’s nod of affirmation, he shut the back door and then both men returned to their seats in the Spear. In fascination, they sat and watched the whole scene on the screen to their front.

  Within seconds, O’Hara was on his feet and doing a damned fine impression of a madman. The argument he had with himself seemed as though it might even end in violence.

  ‘What are we gonna to do if he shoots himself?’ asked Mike, as he watched the man angrily wave his arms about.

  ‘Yeah, well…that would still be mission complete, wouldn’t it?’ Ken replied.

  He didn’t really care about O’Hara and was currently more concerned about Jane. If the truth be known, Ken would have quite happily gone out there and shot the skinny little prick himself. He need not have worried, though. O’Hara stopped, looked at his watch, and then puked long and hard into the bushes. Wiping a hand across his mouth, he stooped towards his bag and undid the zip. When he stood again they saw the weapon in his hand.

  Ken, feeling Mike stiffen beside him, said, ‘Don’t worry about it, that peashooter would never be able to get through this thing!’

  Mike looked at him and smiled. ‘Yeah, you’re right,’ he said, ‘it’s just weird seeing people carrying guns around the streets in broad daylight, especially over here – it’s like being in Kabul!’ He turned back to the screen and watched as O’Hara walked across the road and into the car park beyond.

  He had the holdall over one shoulder and the weapon in his right hand. He never acknowledged the driver of the Jag as he walked into the warehouse. The other three men were gathered at the far end of the building, their bodies glowing on the scanner as they stood next to a table. As they heard him enter, one of the men reached up and pulled something to one side, Ken couldn’t see what it was, but Stevo ducked under it and made his way over to them.

  All four men gathered around the table and waited whilst he unloaded some items from the bag. They stood around for a while and it appeared as though they were listening to the biggest man, he lifted something from the table into the air and then pointed at the other three. Throwing the object back down, he walked over and they saw him slapping one of the other men around the face. There seemed to be a lot of shouting and arm-waving going on. The big man looked as though he was getting very annoyed – he pointed at the others and then angrily kicked the wall behind him. Stevo reached forward and picked up something from the table. The other three men stepped backwards in alarm.

  Mike whispered: ‘That’s the gun! This is where the crap hits the…’

  Without warning, a burst of light erupted from the end of Stevo’s hand. Two of the men went down in a blaze of sparks. Their blood flared on the screen, darkening as it splashed onto the cold walls and concrete floor. A swarm of red-hot, empty shell-cases flickered merrily through the air, glowing like fireflies as they zigzagged across the screen. After firing one shorter burst into the fallen men, Stevo then turned to the last man, the big one, who stood in frozen anticipation by the table. They saw the man raise his hands in defence, but it was to be of no avail.

  Right before their eyes, they watched as Stevo fired the remains of his magazine at the man, the final hail of bullets leaving the muzzle in a flashing spray of light. The rounds struck home and the man went down with a twisting jerk. Some of the bullets missed and ricocheted around the room, sending sparks flying off the walls and floor. Then the weapon jammed and they watched as Stevo started fumbling with it.

  Ken hissed: ‘He’s out of ammo…’

  O’Hara straightened and made as if to move towards the table, as he did so, the man on the floor made his own move. The watchers both saw a flash of light
leaping from his hand. Stevo‘s head erupted in a spray of warm blood and bone. He staggered backwards for a second and then collapsed where he had been standing. The last thing that Ken and Mike saw, out of the side window of the Spear, was the black Jaguar roaring out of the car park.

  Turning back to the monitor, they were in time to see the long-awaited words feeding onto its face: ‘Mission Completed.’

  Without a word, Mike touched the control panel and waited for the transfer screen. They had delivered O’Hara and it looked as though he had met his end. There was nothing else for them to do. As they felt the rush of an incoming Shrink Down, both men’s thoughts were with Jane.

  18

  Not so Sweet

  Part Two.

  It was two days before the gang of kids who’d bunked off school for the afternoon did their usual trick – at approximately two thirty pm they broke in to the old warehouse for a game of football. They always did this, it was fun and the boys enjoyed the on-going war between themselves and the local security firm, whose employees spent a lot of wasted time in trying to catch the kids. Currently, the youngsters were up by about three-to-one. As the boys entered the dusty old building, the first thing they noticed was the smell.

  ‘Nah, don’t worry about it, you pussies… it’ll just be a dead rat or something…’ the gangly leader cajoled, to reassure his friends. With a wide-toothed grin, he said, ‘Come on, get the ball out – let’s play, same teams as last time, boys!’

  Running to the far end of the room, he pulled the old tarpaulin to one side. Someone had suspended the big canvas from the roof and the material was taking up half the playing space. As he tugged on the heavy cloth, there was a thick, tearing sound and half of the material came down to hang lopsidedly from the steel beam above. Behind the tarpaulin lay a sight that made the boy gasp loudly. He hurriedly turned away, shouting to his friends as he did so. ‘Oh shit! Somebody call the police, call the cops!’ He grabbed his pals and told them to run. ‘Leggit, come on, scarper, there’s dead people back there, lots of dead people – let’s go, run!’ In obedience to their unelected leader’s command, the boys ran helter-skelter from the building, not stopping until they were two streets away.