by Vance Huxley
Roy hardly heard Finn, or the others. Either he’d banged his head harder than he’d thought or lost a lot more blood than he should. Hands supported him as he staggered through a door, helping to lower him onto a bed. He hissed in pain when something dabbed his head. “Celine?” Soft lips kissed his cheek so Roy relaxed and let go, or maybe the blow to his head finally put him out.
* * *
Inside the big house flying the Union Flag, Harold’s house, lay the reason Caddi’s master plan had gone off the rails. The gang boss had decided to grandstand, to rape Mercedes while Harold knelt helpless in the next room. Caddi should have remembered that Mercedes had been his assassin. She’d killed Caddi but suffered terrible injuries, because she’d beaten him to death with a pistol butt rather than alert the other gangsters with a gunshot. When Mercedes opened the bedroom door and started shooting Harold took his chance, which gave Casper and Patty their openings. A dozen dead gangsters later, after taking a bullet, Mercedes finally gave in to her wounds and collapsed.
Nobody in Harold’s house had any idea what was happening in the rest of Orchard Close, though the shooting meant Caddi hadn’t been lying about getting a lot of men over the walls. Harold concentrated on helping Patty to bandage pads onto Casper’s leg, over the holes left when the crossbow bolt came out. He pulled Casper to his feet. “Can you keep up?”
“Don’t run. If you do, wait for me now and then.” The big man tested his leg, grimacing at the pain. “This fight is inside the walls so it’s my job. They’ll be close enough for the shotgun.” Harold understood. Casper could only fight at close quarters because he was short-sighted, but he hated always being left behind on guard. Once Casper recovered his over-sized machete and armoured jacket, he claimed a Rambo and a double-barrelled shotgun, filling his pockets with shotgun shells. Harold went into his bedroom, ignoring the stinking, bloody mess on the bed to look out of the window. He could see firearms flashing and moving figures in the shadows or crossing the end of the street. Shots came from the two big houses to his left, the girl club, engaged in a firefight with someone among the houses to the right.
As he came back into the lounge, Harold hesitated, reluctant to leave Mercedes when he didn’t know if she’d live. Sharyn, kneeling beside her, taping a pad across the bite on Mercedes’ chest, glanced up. “Your job is out there, little brother. Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of weapons, even shotguns. Now scat.”
Harold turned away, reluctantly, beckoning Patty and Casper. “We’d best go out the back and pick up the girl club. The scroats are everywhere.” He pulled on his armoured vest.
“Here. I’ve put in a special clip, the Army ammo.” That meant new, hollow-nosed rounds, not the usual lead reloads with sub-standard propellant. Patty gave Harold his belt with his Rambo and pistol, sticking another two pistols in the back as he fastened it. He checked that the spare clips were still on his belt before picking up his sword and stick. Patty picked up two more pistols, sticking them into the back of her belt. With a savage grin, she brandished her recovered sabre and another pistol. “Let’s go.”
“Ready?” Casper nodded so Harold swapped the stick for a pistol, leading the other two out through the conservatory. He paused to check but the back garden looked clear. For a moment Harold almost turned left to flank the scroats shooting at the girl club, but he had to consolidate his forces rather than start another front. A big explosion in the next street could be Bernie’s bomb factory, or one of the bomb stores. Caddi really had got an army inside the walls!
Movement behind the girl club caught Harold’s eye so he crouched, pointing. There were people among the young trees in the potential orchard. The other two followed as he crept along the garden wall, keeping in deep shadow. Four of the men ran forward, one with a big hammer. Casper raised the shotgun but Harold pushed the barrel down. He wanted the girl club to open fire as well, because the three of them might not be enough to deal with however many gangsters lurked under the trees. The men heading towards the kitchen window would break the window, which wouldn’t get them inside but would alert the residents.
The hammer man swung, shattering the glass, another man ran his baseball bat along the bottom of the frame to clear splinters, and the last two jumped up and through the curtains. Almost a perfect entry except the pair fell back, cursing, one pulling the curtain down with him. After all that noise, the girl club would definitely know they’d been flanked. If Harold waited a few more seconds, there’d be women with guns at the upstairs windows.
The Hot Rod with the hammer prodded the man with a curtain in his hand. “Hush, they’ll hear.”
“They heard you smash the window, twat. What the fuck happened to….” The baseball bat man leant closer. “Mesh? The bitches put mesh inside the curtains? Mesh goes on the outside.”
“Look out!” The gangster dropped his hammer, started to run, then stopped. “Fucking stupid women. They forgot to light it.” He bent to pick up the pipe bomb. “Give me a light and I’ll chuck it back.”
Harold nudged his two companions, sheathing his sword while aiming his pistol towards the trees and the rest of the Hot Rods. He held up three fingers, then dropped one in a silent countdown. Bernie always put a normal fuse on the clockwork bombs in case someone wanted a longer delay than four seconds, but that fuse wasn’t lit. The flash as the clockwork released the hammer, detonating the bomb, lit up the young trees and the men crouched among them just long enough. Harold fired three times, as did Patty, while Casper emptied both shotgun barrels but then they quit. Any more would have been a waste, because the women upstairs had been waiting for the flash as well. Thandia’s deep voice rang out across Orchard Close as the women finally let the mastiff bark.
Harold called out. A few minutes later the side door opened to show a heavily-armed woman. “What’s happening?” Umeko held up a radio. “We can’t get any sense out of these. There’s men’s voices shouting gibberish on all the channels and someone shooting from across the road.”
Casper and Harold followed Patty over the wall to join the women. “Trev sold us out, so Caddi got men inside the walls. Since whoever is upstairs is keeping the scroats across the road busy, we can nip along behind my place and flank the bastards.” Harold turned towards where the flash of gunfire lit up the main street in front of Cherry Tree House. “We’ll come back and cut across the back gardens to check on Emmy, then relieve the flats. We’ll need reinforcements to retake the gates because Caddi brought an army.” As the tight group set off, Harold, Casper and Patty explained what they knew. It wouldn’t help much in planning the fight but now the reinforcements knew the worst, and how many Hot Rods they needed to kill.
* * *
All across Orchard Close, men and women clawed their way out of sleep, rolling or staggering out of bed to grab a weapon. Bernie took a moment to get clear of the tangled sheets because Sal threw them back across him, so she got to the window first, and froze. “Stay back, Bernie. Get out, right now.”
A loud voice from outside cut her off. “Hey Bernie, we’ve got a gun on your missus and I’ve got a pipe bomb here in case the bullet doesn’t do the job. We’re coming through the front door in a minute. If you toss any of that shit you make down the stairs, we’ll burn you both.” A harsh laugh rang out above the sound of shooting nearby. “Some of the others have gone after that fireman and his bird, and he won’t fight back so we don’t actually need you. Caddi would like the pair of you making bombs, but not enough to lose blokes.”
“Sal!” Bernie tried to keep his voice down as he opened a cupboard. “I’m going to throw a bomb out the window. Duck and roll and head for the door. I’ll chuck a couple more, then one down the stairs. Head out the back.”
Sal pointed down and to the side, at the table where they made up the bombs. Two clockwork versions sat there, complete except for the caps with the additional long fuses. She pushed to open the window wider. “All right, I don’t want to burn so you’ve caught us. No splitting us up, though. We sta
y together, okay?” Her other hand, still down at her side, pointed at Bernie then the door and jabbed a finger that way, hard. Get out.
Bernie hesitated, his hand on the Allen key he needed to prime one of the bombs in the emergency reserve. These bombs were inactive, safe, but two twists would set the spring. “No,” he hissed, quietly but urgently. “Not without you.”
Sal didn’t answer, because the voice in the garden rang out again. “Too late Bernie. We’ve got a clean shot at her, so you’ve got five seconds to get to the window with your hands up. You too Sal, hands up.”
“Calm down. We agreed what we’d do if you ever came for us.” Sal, Bernie’s very own Jessica Rabbit, sighed, and her voice gentled. “One last pattycake, Wojer Wabbit.” As Sal’s hand landed on the first bomb she twisted it to pull the pin, then lunged. Flipping the bomb through the window she picked up the second and plucked out the pin, trying to toss it after the first one. The first bullet spun her, the bomb dropping to the bedroom floor as a second shot drove her across the room. Sal crumpled, hitting the floor just as a smoking pipe bomb flew in through the window.
After one glance at her back, where the soft lead had torn a huge hole on its way out, Bernie turned away. He dived for the door as shouts and curses rang out outside, throwing himself flat in the landing as the first bomb went off in the garden. Someone outside screamed while a burst of gunfire shot out the front door lock. A spitting, smoking cylinder flew inside. Sal’s bomb exploded in the bedroom, blowing open the door behind Bernie as he staggered to his feet. He ran for the rear of the house, but a second bomb exploded in the bedroom.
The emergency reserve wasn’t large, but the internal wall between the bedroom and the landing didn’t stand a chance when it blew up. Bernie never heard the bomb downstairs that set fire to the hall and stairs.
* * *
Over three hundred metres from the walls around Orchard Close, at the other end of the enclosed garden, the garrison rushed to the walls around the Annex. For long minutes the thirty Demons, mainly women who lived in the Annex barracks and guarded the six huge houses, aimed their weapons into the surrounding darkness. The lookout with a night vision monocular finally reported all clear. There wasn’t a second assault waiting in the darkness. Several of the Demons were watching the fire and fury as the Hot Rods rampaged through Orchard Close. “We’ve got to do something.”
“We will, Bethany, but I wanted to be sure they aren’t sucking us out of the Annex, clearing the way for another bunch to come over these walls. Even if we can’t see anyone I’ll have to leave a few guards, just in case.” Ru looked at Bethany’s expression and shrugged. “All right, not you because I want someone solid.”
“Tilly.” Bethany pointed, barely seen in the gloom. “She’ll shoot without any hesitation but she won’t lose it and charge out there waving a Rambo.”
“Like you will if I leave you here, but I understand why. I’ll leave eight of the steadiest but the rest of us are needed over there, sharpish.” Ru used the scope on her rifle, carefully inspecting the three hundred metres of gardens between the Annex and Orchard Close proper. The tents were dark. An army could hide between them, but Ru felt sure the refugees would have reacted to any Hot Rods by now. The radios were next to useless, garbled, with men shouting to drown out messages on all nine channels but she’d got that much—Hot Rods. Twenty-one heavily-armed figures gathered around Ru, so she picked up her shield and slung it across her back.
“That’s the lot.” Bethany sounded breathless but it wasn’t excitement. One glance showed her skin tight across her teeth in a grimace of sheer hatred. She’d waited a long time for a chance to get some payback against gangsters, any gangsters. “The exchange isn’t answering but one of the lasses got part of a radio message. Some Hot Rods are dressed as our people.”
“So we stay sneaky until we’re over the far wall. All right Demons, take it steady, no rushing in. It’s pitch black tonight but use the side walls and the tents for extra cover, then crawl the rest of the way nice and steady. Bring all the planks from across the ditch except one. We’ll stop fifty metres short to try and identify who’s on the wall, ours or Hot Rods.” A low mutter, close to a snarl, ran through the assembled Demons. Many of them had been imprisoned and abused by gangsters like the Hot Rods, while others had barely avoided capture. They’d trained hard for this fight. “Keep your heads down until we’re over the other wall, then we’ll set up the ranks and head for the thick of it.”
Ru eased out through the gate in the wall, though others slid over the top. Soon the heavily-armed figures were moving across the two-metre-wide trench on eight thick planks. A brief murmur reminded the last pair across seven of the planks to pick them up. The figures were hard to see in the moonless dark but moments later the last hints were swallowed up by the gardens. As she crept through the tents without being noticed, Ru realised she’d been wrong about the refugees hearing intruders. A few voices murmured, just conversation, but most of them had already bedded down for the night.
Despite stopping twice to look through the scope, Ru still couldn’t decide if the guards on the far wall were friend or foe. “Hsst.”
Ru whirled, then lowered her rifle barrel because a familiar face peeked out of the caravan door. A phone lit up Suzie’s face, briefly, though the van itself shielded the light from Orchard Close proper. “Suzie and Louie here.” Suzie glanced back as Louie loomed behind her. “Terri and Nathan were on guard when we came through, but the guards on the wall now look bigger. I’m certain they’re both blokes.”
“Thanks, we’ll sort it. Have you got any weapons?”
“Just Rambos and jerkins. No proper weapons, helmet or battle skirt.” Despite that the couple had sneaked out of the door, ready to fight with what they had.
“Wait here, then follow us over the wall. Take the helmets and weapons from the bodies.” Ru turned and, in whispers, passed messages both ways. She gave everyone time to move into place, then crawled forward to twenty metres and raised her voice. “Hey, can you tell me what’s going on?” The two guards peered over the wall, trying to see her, but Ru didn’t wait for an answer. By the time she finished speaking, both Hot Rods were flipping backwards with up to four bolts in each of them. At this range, Liz’s points, driven by the power of a cranked bow, punched through the layer of washers on the jerkins. The bodies were probably still bouncing when seven planks were dropped across the trench for the Demons to cross as fast as possible.
After some rapid shuffling the shorter shield bearers lined up in front, Rambos ready. Ru had used the delay to try and work out where the enemy were concentrated. “We’re going to sweep this end of Orchard Close first, clear it so there’s nobody back-shooting. Untie anyone we find fast asleep like Terri and Nathan. Drag them into cover, then leave them. From the shooting, the Hot Rods seem to be forting up, forming groups. We’ll take them one group at a time, picking up reinforcements as we go. Up this side to the bypass boundary, across and down past the hospital and brewery, then turn towards Sal’s place and the gun workshop. If I go down, don’t go berserk. Stick to the system, stick to your training.”
“And kill all the scroats!”
“Triage with prejudice.”
“The only good Hot Rod,” half a dozen voices finished it,“is a dead one!”
Ru would have argued because Harold wouldn’t sanction killing wounded or prisoners, but she wouldn’t have her heart in it. Caddi’s gang had come into her home. Right now Ru didn’t care if none of them survived the experience.
* * *
Unfriendly eyes had seen Ru and her fighters go over the wall, but they weren’t close enough to interfere. “That’s it, that’s our chance.” The Hot Rod, Corvette, beckoned his forty men forward.
No-one moved. The men knew they were safe even from infra-red, laid in the wide, shallow trench dug across the fields to stop a van ramming the walls. They’d even got their shields over their heads, covering the hottest part. One finally answered. “W
hat chance? It’s all gone to shit in there.”
The leader rounded on the speaker. “I just saw the bitches from that Annex go over the wall into the main compound. Now’s our chance to take the Annex, where we’ll be the ones inside nice big brick walls.” He pushed in closer, crowding the critic. “We’ll do it how Caddi said, from the garden because the wall is lower and they won’t expect us there. Unless you fancy lying out here in the fucking mud and dark, waiting for some bastard with a rifle and night sights to spot us?”
“Sod off.”
“No chance.”
“Brick walls sounds good to me.”
“There’ll be loot in there.”
“Better than in that fucking mess.” The men began to move, slowly then faster when no shout of alarm went up. Reaching the long wall connecting Orchard Close to the Annex, they began to boost each other up and over into the garden.
“What about the trench? They bring the planks in at night.”
“And have just put them back to get across to the fucking garden, right? If not, we’ll toss you in there and use your fucking head as a stepping stone.” The objector shut up because Corvette could be even nastier than his boss, Dodge. Within minutes the men were sneaking through the tents, then the ones at the front stopped.
“What’s the matter?”
“Only one plank, and it’s over on the other side.”
“Bollocks. Can you jump it?”
“I don’t fancy it, not wearing this armour, and I’m not taking it off. What about these tents? They’ll have beds, and a bed might reach right across?” The speaker pulled a tent open and spat out orders. “Everyone in here shut the fuck up. Get off that bed, you. Now.”
