by S. T. Boston
Adam didn't reply immediately, he threw the RX7 around a corner which, unless he knew it, would have made him stamp on the brakes. Instead he navigated it confidently, and the tyres chirped nicely as the back end of the car drifted slightly and held. Back on a straight but bumpy section of tarmac he said, “That doesn't make me feel any better. If we can end this now, and there is no chance of a reprise from his people, then we need to make sure we don't fail. Simple.”
With one stop for fuel just the other side of Reading, Adam arrived in Greenwich in bang on two and a half hours. If there was one positive to be taken from the events that had changed the world, it was the sheer lack of congestion that had once troubled almost every arterial route in the country. The unfortunate mixture of death and ridiculously high oil prices had seen a forty to fifty percent drop in traffic. As such, on a Saturday morning, that had grown more overcast and dull the further north they'd pushed, Adam had not been stuck in a single jam whilst getting into the nation's capital.
“You will need to direct me in,” he said as they entered the London district. He set the wipers on the Mazda to intermittent, as light but fine drizzle dusted the windscreen.
“It's on Oakcroft Road,” she replied, looking intently out of the front windscreen and trying to get her bearings. “I think it's off Lewisham Hill, do you know it?”
“Yeah, I think so, one sec.” Adam had a good idea where the road was, it was a main route through the area, and living relatively close by he'd used it a number of times. He swung the car left and slowed down. “Anything look familiar?”
“Yes, the large beach tree.” She pointed to the landmark, the beach was on a camber which hung it out slightly over the road, and as a chillier and earlier than usual autumn set in its leaves had deposited themselves onto the tarmac in an almost perfect outline of the canopy above. “Take a right here!”
Adam followed her instructions and crept the Mazda along Eliot Park. In a few hundred yards Oriyanna pointed out another right turn, which he took. As they drew level with the junction of Oakcroft Road he saw what he'd been expecting, about a hundred yards down, near to where the larger detached houses were, was a line of blue and white barrier tape. He couldn't read the single word printed repeatedly on it but he knew it said Police. Scanning the road for somewhere to park he said, “Nice area this, not cheap, or it wasn't before the virus.”
Oriyanna was leaning forward, trying to register what she thought she could see, “Oh, no,” she gasped as Adam reversed into a space just down from the road closure. “That can't be possible.”
“What?” he asked, leaving the car's nose poking precariously out into the street. Looking more closely and not having to concentrate on parking the Mazda he saw what she was looking at. One of the houses, and he didn't need a prize for guessing it was the one they needed to visit, was nothing more than a burnt out shell. The ground floor window glass was gone, instead the windows now left gaping holes that led forebodingly into a darken interior. The two top windows, which Adam guessed would be bedrooms, had one pane of glass semi-intact, although it had been punctured by what he knew, from her account, was automatic gunfire. The glass had somehow held, but now was spider webbed and stained a smoky brown from the fumes and flames. More police cordon tape ran the length of the front wall and closed off the driveway, just to get the message home that there were to be no visitors today.
“That looks bad,” said Adam, not quite sure what he should say.
“I don't know how it happened, why did they burn it down?”
“To get rid of evidence?”
“I doubt it,” she answered, her eyes wide and drinking in every detail. “I'm sure they wouldn't be worried about that.” She paused for a moment and said, “Unless…”
“Unless what?”
There were a few long, drawn out seconds of silence that Adam felt tick by slowly. Finally Oriyanna said, “Taulass.”
“You said he'd been killed.” Adam took his attention off the burnt out building and parked the car properly. The two uniformed police officers, one burly looking male and one female who looked far too small to be in a position of authority and almost comical next to her towering colleague, paid him casual attention before going back to their conversation. They both looked pretty wet and pissed off, it appeared to have been raining for a good few hours and Adam wondered just how long they'd been left on the post. He knew it wasn't unusual for people to rubber neck a scene of destruction or tragedy, as long as they didn't pay too much attention the cops wouldn't be interested.
“He looked dead, I mean, he was covered in blood – but.”
“We don't know yet, don't torture yourself over it.” Adam placed a reassuring hand on her leg.
“We need to get inside, there is one way to know for certain.” Oriyanna cracked open the door and stepped out into the light drizzle, Adam followed suit, and taking her by the hand he walked them away from the scene.
“What are you doing?” Oriyanna protested.
“We can't just walk in, the place is a crime scene. We need to get round the back and hope they don't have an officer in the garden.” He spoke in a low voice, bent down by the side of her face.
“I can get us in, remember?” she grinned at him.
“Far too risky, what if it goes wrong? Do you want to spend the day locked up in a cell? I sure as hell don't. If we have no other option then we will have to try, but just for once, let's try and fly under the radar.” Adam knew she was more than capable of influencing the two PCs on the front door but it was a risky move, and a skill that they might need to fall back on if they were caught. “We will garden hop,” he explained. “The house is -,” he counted the buildings from their position, “six down.”
“Well, it should be obvious,” Oriyanna smiled. “Once we reach the burnt out shell, I'd say we are there.”
“That's why you're the superior race,” he said, flushing red with embarrassment.
“I've told you before, not superior, just a little more evolved.” She gave him a joking smile.
“Many of these places are empty now,” Adam explained, “That aside they all have massive back gardens, you can tell from here.” He pointed to a line of trees at the rear of one of the properties, you could see the land at the back ran fairly deep and away from the house. “If we are careful we won't get seen.” He gestured to the house that sat opposite them; in its day, before the virus it would have no doubt been home to some London professional on a hundred thousand euro a year, or more, salary. Now it looked abandoned. The metal boarding on the windows was decorated with graffiti, the unreadable purple and yellow tags filled the aluminium boards as if they were canvasses put there for the sole purpose of their street art. In a few places the paint had strayed from the boarding and encroached onto the off-cream painted rendering. There were a large number of these now ownerless houses scattered across the city. For a number of unlucky families, The Reaper had taken them all, leaving no one to inherit their prized worldly possessions. The long range plan was that these abandoned houses would be renovated and sold cheaply to people in need, or taken under council ownership. The utopian idea was that now, in a population reduced nation, no one need be on the street or homeless. It was a nice, idealistic plan, but Adam knew it was still many years from coming to fruition. They hadn't even managed to lift curfews yet, or have a 24/7 power supply.
He took Oriyanna by the hand and led her down the unevenly block paved side path. The faded cedar panel gate was closed, but with a tug it opened, the swollen wet timber offering up resistance as it ground its way across the brindle paving blocks. Slipping into the rear garden Adam lifted the gate, to make its passage easier, and closed it engaging the latch. The garden was an almost carbon copy of his grandfather's, overgrown and unloved. At the far end a greenhouse was losing its battle with the grass that now climbed halfway up each side of every wall. The building was also being attacked from within, plant life filled its interior, pushing against the dirty wet glass as
if eager to meet and join with its kin outside. In the centre of the garden an old rigid swimming pool held back the vegetation, one side had slightly collapsed from a ladder which had fallen over and into the pool. Dark, stagnant and foul smelling water filled it to half depth, a variety of autumn leaves of varying colours and in various states of decay floated on the surface, and where the light rain found the black liquid, tiny circles radiated out from the point of impact, giving the uninviting water a dimpled effect.
Turning away from the foul water, Adam fought his way through the long grass and tested the fence at the far end of the garden, which, much to his relief, still seemed fairly sturdy. He guessed it belonged to the house next door, which still looked lived in. Reaching the end of the garden he gave Oriyanna a boost and she scaled the larch lap panel with the grace and speed of a feline. With not quite so much grace, and a little more of a struggle, Adam heaved his body over and joined her on the other side.
“Only five more to go,” Oriyanna encouraged.
“Maybe you can give me a boost next time,” he said with a wink. “You might also want to take care of that.” He pointed to the gun and holster that had been tucked under the base of her black long-sleeved top, the climb had exposed the gun for any prying eyes to see. Oriyanna pulled her top down and concealed the weapon before heading across the lawn, this property was definitely still occupied. Although it would never win any awards a little care had been taken, the grass was cut and a few toys were scattered here and there. Whoever lived here had been one of the luckier ones.
It took them a couple of minutes to reach the final fence, which thankfully was a good foot shorter than all the others. Crouching down, so as not to be visible to any police who may be in the garden Adam gingerly poked his head over the top and surveyed the scene. “The backdoor is open,” he said in a hushed voice. “I can't see anyone on point at the rear, come on!” He used his right hand as a pivot and vaulted the low panel in one jump, Oriyanna followed closely behind.
“How long do you need?”
“A minute, two at most,” she whispered, looking at the soot-black cavernous interior. “The device is in the safe, it's fireproof but on the first floor.”
Adam looked surreptitiously at the building and said, “I hope the stairs are intact, then.”
“Only one way to find out.” Oriyanna kept to the fence line and rushed the length of the garden, not stopping she entered the kitchen, Adam followed behind her, praying that no police would be inside.
The housed stank of ash, burnt timber and water, it was nauseating. Adam followed Oriyanna into the kitchen where she paused by the breakfast bar. Someone, likely a scene examiner, or two, were working in the front room, between the sounds of their muffled voices Adam could hear the clicking of a camera snapping photos.
“Any identity on the two that were in the lounge yet?” they heard a softly spoken female ask, her voice was slightly muffled from the face mask she wore.
“Nothing, nada, zip.” A male colleague replied. There followed the rapid click of a camera taking pictures. “It's a fooking mystery alright. Even the guy we have ID for, Richards, he's a yank, what was he doing here?” More rapid shutter clicks.
Adam waited for the camera to start up again, which it did. Moving quickly they rushed to the first floor, using the clicking to mask their footsteps on the damaged stairs, and praying there were no officials upstairs. On the landing he surveyed the damage, bullet holes had blasted the landing's bannister rail into splinters, and the walls were also peppered with bullet holes. “These guys really did a job here, didn't they?” He whispered as Oriyanna passed him and went into her room.
In her bedroom Adam watched her round the bed, which apart from being smoke damaged, looked unscathed. She bent down and went to work at the bottom of a built in wardrobe, its mirrored door hanging precariously off the runner.
“It's gone,” she said, louder than he would have liked. “The device is gone.”
Adam held a finger over his lips and hoped the symbol for shut the fuck up was a universal one. Oriyanna came back to where he was standing, by the door to the landing. “Taulass must be alive, the safe wasn't forced.”
“Where the hell is he then?”
“We need to go to Kingston upon Thames,” she said, bounding down the stairs as if she'd forgotten about the scene examiners in the lounge. Adam followed her, expecting to hear voices challenging them at any moment. He peered around the wall and into the lounge, it was empty. He hoped the two examiners had gone out via the front door and weren't taking five in the back garden. Oriyanna was waiting for him in the kitchen, and Adam signalled for her to stay put. Deftly he moved on his feet to the door and peered into the garden, which was empty. Urgently he signalled her on and they left the fousty smelling kitchen. Staying low, they covered the length of the garden and vaulted the fence.
Crouched in the wet grass of the neighbouring property, Adam caught his breath and asked, “What is in Kingston upon Thames?”
“The safe house, it's where we planned to meet if things went wrong. Unless he's been caught, that's where he will be.”
“Best we get moving then,” said Adam, glad to be out of the crime scene. He stayed low and crossed the lawn, now eager to reach the car.
Two minutes later, Adam cleared the final fence and found himself back looking at the dilapidated swimming pool. With Oriyanna flowing behind he made his way down the side of the house and out onto Oakcroft Road. Reaching the safety of his Mazda he allowed himself to relax into the race seat. Their wet clothing immediately began to dry in the warm cab, steaming up the windows. Adam cracked his window open and put the fans on full.
“Well, that was intense,” he laughed. “Why can't we do things that normal couples do?”
“I don't think we can ever be classed as that,” she said, running her hands though her long blonde hair and flicking the water into the foot well. “Let's get moving, I'll direct you in once we get there.”
As the Mazda pulled away from the kerb, ninety miles away a dark grey Volvo XC90 pulled into the small visitor's car park at Netheravon Airfield. The front seat passenger checked a handheld computer and smiled.
* * *
Steam gradually built up in the small bathroom, fogging up the mirror on the white glossed medicine cabinet and taking some of the chill out of the air. Feeling rather proud of herself, Lucie dipped her right hand into the deliciously warm water and stirred. Satisfied with the depth and temperature, she shut the water off. Making her way through to the bedroom she checked on Sam, he had hardly moved position in the last two and a half hours, and was still flat on his back with his arms spread either side, breathing deeply. On her way back to the bathroom she cracked open the boiler cupboard door and checked the pilot light, a bright blue flame was still burning happily away, emitting a steady and satisfying hiss. It hadn't taken much work to get the old girl burning again. The gas had been switched off at the main stopcock, something that was easily fixed. Then she just had to re-ignite the pilot flame, which had been simple, as she'd found the ignition switch on the base of the unit. Most importantly there was a mains gas supply, which surprised her. In the airing cupboard there had also been a couple of musty smelling blue towels and a matching dressing gown which had belonged to her mother, or so she seemed to remember. Taking it off the slatted shelf, Lucie had buried her face into the material, hoping to smell her mother's perfume still on the robe, but it just smelt a little stale.
After letting the old boiler run for a while she'd tested the heater by leaving the hot tap on in the kitchen for ten minutes, and after a couple of minutes of cold water it had gradually gotten hotter, until it reached scalding. What made it even better was the old bar of Dove soap, still in its wrapper, that she'd found in the medicine cabinet. Sure, the stuff was a little dried and cracked but as soon as she put it in the water it created a lather that would make her feel a whole lot cleaner than she did right now.
Lucie placed one of the light b
lue towels by the bath, along with the dressing gown, both within easy reach and stripped off, quickly realising the steam hadn't taken quite as much of the chill from the air as she'd thought. She shivered and looked at her flat tummy, Well, I guess pretty soon that's going to be a thing of the past, she thought to herself, then ran her hand over the bare skin, not quite able to believe that there was a tiny life growing inside her. Climbing into the water, that at first scalded until she got used to it, she did her very best to relax. As soon as Sam woke she'd tell him, she hated the idea that he was the last to know, but then things didn't always turn out the way you wanted them to. Working the soap in her hands she washer her face, body then took her long brown hair out of the ponytail, placing the hairband on the side so she could use it again later. Hand soap was not the best thing in the world to wash hair with, but beggars can't be choosers. Having built up a good amount of lather she worked it into her hair, cringing as it immediately felt dry, as if all the moisture were being stripped away.
Satisfied that she'd cleaned her locks as much as she could, she slipped down the bath and into the water, completely submerging herself. At first she thought the figure that suddenly appeared looming over the side of the tub was Sam, then a strong hand reached into the bath, grabbed her by her freshly cleaned hair and heaved her up. It wasn't Sam, and it was grinning.
