Hunters: A Trilogy

by Paul A. Rice

  The answer, which Mike gave, allowed Jane her own chance to be amazed.

  ‘Three days, I think, just about, yeah… three days, Ken?’ he said, turning to his friend for confirmation.

  ‘Two days, twenty-one hours and about thirty minutes, to be exact…’ Ken whispered. ‘Why do you ask, what’s up?’

  Jane sat quietly for a while, before saying: ‘What was it George said to you before, you know, about that insect thing?’

  Ken said, ‘Oh, you mean the Lacewing? Yeah, he said that time was like size, it’s all relevant to where you are, and that certain things lived their whole lives in what we would see as being only a couple of days, or something – why?’ He placed a fresh mug of tea on the table and stood behind her, hands gently massaging her shoulders as she replied.

  ‘Nothing, it’s just another lesson for me. I felt like I was gone for ages. I mean, I must have slept for about a week, I guess what he said also works in reverse, I wonder where the hell I was?’ She shook her head and picked up the fresh drink.

  They sat around the kitchen table together and talked about the events that had led them here. It was, in many ways, a kind of self-therapy. The simple act of sitting and talking about the outlandish proceedings, which had been thrust upon them, almost seemed to help.

  Ken sensed that awful feeling in his head fritter away. It was like knowing you were broke, and then unexpectedly finding a fifty pound note in the pocket of an old shirt, an unexpected and extremely gratifying boost to the morale. Much like the money would have, the feeling lifted Ken’s spirits and those of his wife and comrade along with him. Glancing at the kitchen clock, he realised that it was gone midnight. Jane had dark rings under her eyes and looked as though the pain in her back was making her uncomfortable.

  Seeing all these things, he interrupted their conversation. ‘Right, folks, I reckon we should let Jane get some shut-eye,’ he said. ‘You look worn out, my darling. Should we call it a night or what, I don’t think there is anything else we need to talk about just yet, is there?’ Jane nodded and rose unsteadily to her feet.

  Ken asked Mike to lock up, and then, lifting her effortlessly into his arms, carried his wife upstairs to bed.

  ***

  It was gone two o’clock the next afternoon before any of them awoke. It was the hungry barking of the dogs that made Ken raise a lazy eyelid. Looking at the bedside clock only made him swear. ‘Oh, shit, look at the time!’ He groaned, sat up and looked across at Jane. She was still dead to the world and Ken thought it might be another couple of hours before she would be awake, maybe much longer, but either way he wasn’t about to disturb her. He slid quietly out of bed and headed for the shower.

  Later that day, Jane came down with the black box under her arm. When she showed them the wonderful thing inside, they were flabbergasted. However, it was only when they touched the small medal that they truly felt the significance of the graceful object. The almost religious feeling it exuded, told them all they needed to know. It spoke of great things, of things deeper than they would ever be able to imagine. Each one of them felt its touch in their own way, but each of them also saw that there were grander things in this universe, things far beyond their comprehension. Ken felt lifted, his heart felt somehow cleaner than before. He looked at Mike and saw that his friend felt it too.

  Mike had a distant look in his eye. ‘That is really quite beautiful, isn’t it?’ he said, softly. He smiled as he spoke and stretched his arms out so his hands rested on the shoulders of his friends who sat either side of him. ‘I bloody love you guys,’ he said. ‘Never forget that, will you?’ They looked at him, sitting quietly as they watched the single tear running down his face. Jane leaned over and gave Mike the box of tissues from the middle of the table. He grinned ruefully and wiped his eyes. ‘God only knows what that’s all about,’ he said, with a small laugh.

  Jane never said anything. That was three grown men she had seen cry in less than a week, and if the truth be known, Mike wouldn’t be the last one she saw crying, either.

  After they had recovered sufficiently, the trio went into the lounge, took a seat, and listened whilst Jane told them of the plan, the one she and George had made. Sitting on the couch with her legs folded under her in that way in which only a woman can, Jane gave them her idea.

  ‘Red seems to be the crux of this whole crazy thing,’ she said. ‘George told me that no matter what dimension they are in, Red always seems to be the one who thwarts their plans. It’s almost as though he is the hub of this crazy wheel.’

  She explained that the Council was not sure if it was simply the huge man fulfilling his destiny, or if there were some other, darker, forces at work. Either way, they kept ending up with Red playing an evil part in the final scenario. No matter whom they gave their ‘Gift’ to, and no matter what outcome they managed to manipulate by their changes, Red would always be there at the end. Be there causing mayhem. Even those whom they had enlisted to help see into the future had not been able to see past the fog surrounding the red giant.

  She told them, just as George had explained to her, that there had been several attempts to kill their enemy. Many of them failed, whilst several had succeeded, but all of them only managed to send Red further down his path towards evil. Even Ken’s tremendous battle with the man had not seemed to change things one iota. Red’s death by her husband’s hands in one parallel had not seemed to change a single thing – the Darkness was becoming more powerful within him and he seemed to be able to move between the parallels with impunity. ‘Red just flummoxes them,’ was the phrase Jane used to sum up the story of George’s predicament.

  ‘Is he immortal, some kind of untouchable, or something?’ Ken asked. ‘He must be! Did George say anything like that?’

  Jane said, ‘Although we saw George send him to his death in the heavens, it was too late for that parallel by then, the storm had been used, life on Earth was nearly extinct and you two were dead! It’s always the same thing – they can change everything, except Red. And without changing him the other modifications become worthless.’ They looked at her and began to understand. She finished with: ‘No, I don’t think he is untouchable at all, and nor does George. I just think that we’re handling Red the wrong way!’ Jane paused to listen to Mike’s outburst.

  ‘So, without changing what Red does, then all of what we have been through, the deaths, the injuries, and every damned thing else, will have been for nothing… sooner or later we are gonna end up with the big oil problem, then the storm finally screwing us all for good! What the hell are we going to do?’ Mike asked, sounding beyond frustrated.

  Ken looked even more helpless as he asked the next question. ‘What about the Hyenas, are we still on course for them to destroy us, what about the future – can’t they manipulate them as well?’

  Jane looked at them steadily, before saying: ‘I believe they can, yes. George never said as much, but I saw things when I was with him, I saw…well, I don’t really know what it was, but there are other things in play here!’ She paused, before saying: ‘I don’t know if they will do anything. I know that they want us to do something, but I’m not sure what, exactly. I don’t know where I was, it felt like I was in space or… maybe I was somewhere else, I just don’t know. I remember, but I don’t, you know? It’s as though I’ve been here before, I feel…’ She shook her head, looking at the men in complete bafflement.

  After a moment of heavy silence, so thick, that if you’d been listening, the sound of their brains racing would have been as plain as the ticking of a grandfather clock, Ken spoke. ‘So, what should we do now? There must be something George has said…’ He stopped and looked at the smile on Jane’s face. ‘He bloody well has, hasn’t he?’ he said. ‘You’re like that cat in the old ‘cream’ scenario – come on then, spit it out!’

  He grinned at her in anticipation. Jane grinned back and Ken felt himself sit more upright, thoughts sharpening with anticipation. ‘Please, let this be the answer, please! If we ar
en’t gonna be able to kill Red, well…then I’m not sure that I’ve many other big ideas left!’ Ken really hoped that Jane had something good for them, some perfectly-formed trap for the red-haired bastard to fall into. ‘Fall into and keep falling, fall right out the other side of the damned universe!’ It was crazy, he knew it was. But the idea wouldn’t cease. ‘She’d said that there were stars, she saw the stars! Maybe it was a ship, maybe George is a…a…fucking…’ The thoughts, which were shouting from behind the locked doors in Ken’s mind, just wouldn’t shut up.

  He sat there, masking those disorderly thoughts, and looked innocently at Jane, listening as she let them into the plan, the one that she and a grey-haired old man had made – made just yesterday whilst she was visiting him in his strange parallel, in some other place.

  Seeing the expression upon her husband’s face, and whilst smiling at the madness of it all, Jane continued. ‘It dawned on me,’ she said, ‘yesterday, or whenever it was, that maybe we have been going about this the wrong way. Everything they have ever done has always been aimed at stopping Red, or changing the things around him so that he gets stopped.’

  She looked at them before continuing, they nodded in agreement.

  Then she said, ‘Well, when I was at university we had this lecture on man-management, you know, leadership and stuff? There was this guy, the one who did the lecture, he had this thing, this manner, and it was as though he was only talking to me, I didn’t know why at the time, but his words stuck right in my head and they’ve been there in the background ever since.’

  Both the men had done a fair amount of leadership training and yet neither of them was able to guess what she was aiming for.

  Jane put them out of their misery. With a slight flick of her head, she said, ‘That guy, he said there was this thing, a theory, it’s called the self-fulfilling prophecy or…’ she thought for a while, and then, with eyes lighting up, found the words she had been searching for. ‘The Pygmalion Effect, that’s what he called it, yes! And what he said made sense. It’s where you assume something about someone and then treat them accordingly. They, on other hand, know it’s what you think about them, and so they behave accordingly – it’s a method that will never break its own circle. Treat someone like an idiot and the chances are that they will behave like one. We can apply this theory to ourselves: we only ever think of Red in one way, and accordingly we only ever act towards him in one way.’ She waited for them to digest the information.

  Mike asked: ‘So what does this have to do with Red?’ He turned to Ken for some support.

  Ken smiled but he couldn’t help Mike as he himself was starting to see where Jane was coming from. ‘Wait a bit, Mike,’ he said. ‘I can see where she’s heading with this – go on, Jane!’

  Jane smiled, saying: ‘Well, all we’ve been doing is trying to stop Red’s actions, yes?’ Without waiting for their agreement, she pushed on. ‘It hasn’t achieved anything so far, and it’s probably not going to get us anywhere in the future. So, why don’t we just pause and take a look at him? Instead of trying to stop him, or change what he does, why don’t we try and change him, change his life, why don’t we change Red?’

  The simplicity of her idea rolled over her husband. Why they hadn’t thought of it that way before, was beyond him. Ken was amazed by, and also extremely proud of, the woman who sat curled up in front of them. He said, ‘So, let me get this straight: Red is the centre of everything, change him and everything else changes as well – is that what you’re saying?’

  Jane replied: ‘Well, not quite, changing him may have a very positive effect upon the future; however, they are not exactly sure as to what that effect will be. But it has to be better than the one they have been battling unsuccessfully against so far. George doesn’t think that by changing Red we will be able to prevent people like Peters and O’Hara from doing what they’re doing, their types are still going to plague us and, by the sounds of things, people like us will still be used to ‘change’ them.’ She then told them what George had said about the Dragon, of how something evil, the Darkness, always seemed to have a say in these particular events.

  Mike was ecstatic – it was as though he hadn’t heard a single word Jane had said about the Darkness. ‘Yes, yes!’ he exclaimed. ‘What a bloody great idea, we can go back…get George to send us back to when Red was a boy, or something! Look, we’ve been working on the basis that if we just change one thing today then it will allow a different outcome to occur tomorrow, haven’t we? Look at what we’ve been doing just recently – bump off Peters so the girl can live and fulfil her destiny, etcetera…why don’t we go back and see what Red is like in the early days? It doesn’t seem as though he is supposed to be killed, so…’ Their friend was so excited that he simply ran out of words.

  Jane was excited, too. It shone on her face and even though she looked tired and drawn, her eyes lit up with happiness. The three of them sat together and expanded upon her plan, they looked at Jane’s big idea from every angle and Ken even went as far as getting a piece of paper and writing down all the pros and cons. After a while, when they had dissected the idea as many times as they could, Mike took all the notes into the kitchen and sent George a message.

  His fingers flew across the Communicator’s keypad – once finished with the written words, he then also left a video message for the old man. Snapping the lid of the machine closed, he rose and re-joined them in the lounge. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘I’ve told him that we are willing to go back and see Red. I’ve said we know what it entails and that we are prepared to give it our best shot. Are you guys sure you want to go through with this? I mean, look at this place, you’ll never see it again.’ He looked at them seriously.

  Both Ken and Jane nodded. ‘Yeah, we’re good, Mike. Hell… it’s only a house after all! Let’s go and see what happens, huh?’ Ken said, with a smile that Jane joined him in.

  The sudden rush of their idea and proposed plan almost overcame them. There didn’t seem to be any reason not to go, and yet the idea was still a frightening one. The trio sat there staring at one and other for a while, thoughts whirling. Deciding upon some fresh air, they called for the dogs and wandered up onto the slope behind the lodge. Ken was going to take the shotgun but realised that perhaps he’d seen enough guns of late, many more than enough. They took it steady, clambering up the slippery hill a few steps at a time. Ken held the pace back as he saw that Jane was not feeling too good.

  ‘Let’s go back to the house – we can do this any time,’ he pleaded.

  Jane declined, saying: ‘No, let’s walk. The exercise and fresh air will do me good. Besides, take it whilst you can is what I say, you never know when it’s going to be the last time you have a chance to be in a place as beautiful as this.’ She smiled at them and then led the way up the slope.

  Her words would prove to be more than prophetic.

  21

  One-Way Ticket

  For more than a week they waited for some news. It was driving Ken crazy, but he filled his time with making sure that Jane was taking it easy. He ordered her to put her feet up and watch the TV or something. It was a wasted sentiment, in defiance of his orders she took up her paint brushes again.

  ‘It helps me relax!’ she said, in reply to the stern glance Ken gave her.

  He shook his head in exasperation, saying: ‘God preserve us from stubborn women!’ It was the usual retort Ken used when realising he was on a losing wicket. She grinned at him and then burst into wicked laughter as she saw him desperately trying to hold onto his scowl. Not wanting to surrender, Ken grunted and stomped off towards the kitchen, grumbling about how much easier life had been in the desert.

  Mike had long since become bored of waiting and had cleared off in the car for a few days. ‘I reckon I’ll head south for a while, I know some people down near Carrick and I fancy seeing them for a couple of days,’ he said. ‘Plus it will give you two some time to chill out together.’

  Jane knew exactly what Mike m
eant when he said ‘some people’. ‘Why don’t you bring her up here for a few days, Mikey?’ she asked.

  He grinned, saying: ‘Because you’ll have me married by next weekend, that’s why!’ Laughing, he had slung his bag over one shoulder and headed for the car.

  They didn’t see him for another four days.

  In the meantime, they spent their time doing things around the house and catching up with friends and emails. Ken also finalised the business dealings for their company in Afghanistan. With the paperwork signed, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. The buyers had understood about the delay, which Mike had told them was due to Ken’s injury. Now it was done he was relieved and the familiar feeling of itchy feet soon returned. Sometime later that week, he received a text from Mike. The message ending with the usual: ‘…get the kettle on!’

  Ken looked at his phone and then gave Jane a shout. ‘Babe, Mike is on his way back – I guess he must have heard something from George.’

  She wandered into the kitchen and washed the watercolours from her hands. Although she was still very weak and spent a lot of time sleeping, Jane had also become much keener about her painting. It was as though something had been fired up inside and she spent a large portion of her time in front of the easel, totally engrossed in her work. Ken had moved it, and all the other bits and pieces from the studio upstairs, into the conservatory attached to the sun-filled rear of the lodge. He was amazed by the talent she possessed, her latest streak of other-world paintings transfixed him. He often sat and watched as she worked, it was one of the most pleasurable things he had ever done and he let the sensation carry him away.

  Mike returned to them later on the day of his text-message, only this time he walked onto their driveway and knocked on the door before they were even aware he was there. Ken opened the door with a surprised grin upon his face.