by Paul Kane
"Get behind me!" Mark shouted to Sophie, his voice cracking, adrenalin pumping through him.
"Hey, what do we have here?" The lead soldier, a youth with a scar running across his jawline, sneered at them both. "Two little muppets playing happy families."
"I dunno, Jace," said the man behind him, "the girl's fit enough."
Jace tramped towards them, grabbing Mark and swinging him out of the way. Mark hit the wall, bouncing off it and into a chair. "Yeah, you're right there, Oaksey. I definitely vote she comes with us." Jace laughed raucously.
He reached out for Sophie and took hold of the top of her dress. He pulled and the fabric tore easily. They appeared to have forgotten about Mark.
He got up, running at the thugs, grabbing the lead one by the waist and sending all three of them sideways - while Sophie fell back onto the floor. "Fuck me!" Jace called out as he toppled over. Mark had seen Jack use that wrestling move more times than he could remember, but never thought he'd have to put it into practice.
Other soldiers came in, and pulled Mark off - though not before he got a few good kicks in.
"Quit goofing around," one of the newcomers told Jace and his mate as they scrabbled back to their feet. "Let's get these two into the truck."
"Just one from this house, remember?" said another soldier.
"Right." Jace turned the rifle on Mark. "Bye-bye, muppet."
"Wait," Mark said, waving his hands. "Listen to me, The Hooded Man you're looking for. I've seen him."
"Here?" asked Jace's friend.
"He was here, yeah. Just before you came."
"Bullshit." Jace jammed his gun in Mark's face.
"Wait, we'll take him anyway. He might come in useful, plus kids make good prisoners."
"But what about her?" Jace whined, thumbing back towards Sophie.
"Leave her. There'll be more skirt, and closer to your age."
Jace considered this. "I guess you're right." He grabbed Mark roughly by the collar. "Come on, you little prick."
Mark just had time to look back at Sophie, who mouthed a silent thank you. Then he was being shoved outside, where the fight was all but over. Those men remaining from his group were either dead or badly wounded. Mark saw Jacob lying on the concrete, covered in blood. He just about had enough strength to look up at Mark, a pitiful expression on his face, then one of the Sheriff's men came up behind him and emptied a full magazine into the youth.
Mark bit his lip, unable to let himself cry, unable to even show that he'd known the dead man, let alone that they'd been kidding around together not long ago.
"Move it!" Jace pushed Mark hard, almost sending him over. If he was honest, Mark was glad to get away from the scene, because the more he saw of it, the more he knew it would stay with him for ever.
When they got to the prisoner truck, out by the road, Jace pulled the bag from Mark's back and began rooting around inside it. "Got anything valuable in here, shithead? Any weapons maybe? Bet you'd just love to stick me with something, wouldn't ya?"
Mark's eyes narrowed. You'll get yours one day, Jace. Don't worry about that.
Jace emptied out the backpack, tossing it into the rear of the truck. He ate the chocolate bars and cast aside any items he deemed to be rubbish. "Ah, what's this?" he said finally, pulling out a small photo album. He opened it up, flipping through the pages. They showed pictures of Mark when he was younger, during happier times: birthdays, holidays, bonfire nights, Christmas.
"Leave that alone," spat Mark.
"I'll do whatever the fuck I want," Jace snarled back, tearing the clear plastic of one page like he'd pawed at Sophie's dress. He took out a photo, dropping the rest of the album on the ground. Jace spun it around, showing Mark the picture of himself with a man and woman in their late thirties, standing with their hands on his shoulders. They were all dressed in walking gear, wearing backpacks and woolly hats. There were fields behind them, and a couple of mountains. "Who're these boring twats?" Mark wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of saying, but Jace guessed correctly. "Your folks, right? S'pose they bought it when the virus came, huh? Personally I was glad to see the back of mine, the interfering... Do yourself a favour, muppet. Let it go. They're fucking dust." He began to tear the photo in half and Mark snatched at it. Jace smacked him to the floor, then he threw the photograph over his shoulder before binding Mark with the plastic ties.
As he was thrown into the back of the truck, after his backpack, the vehicle was already filling up with other captives. Mark stared down at the ground, at his belongings there - gathered over the course of his time on the streets - and the photo album being trampled on, kicked around: the picture in two halves ground into the concrete by heavy boots. He fought back the tears. It was like having his childhood taken away from him a second time.
But there was nothing he could do, as the doors of the truck were closed and they trundled away.
Those same doors opened again now, as the waiting was over, and the soldiers directed more people to climb inside. Mark sprang for the exit, attempting to squeeze through and run away. He knew he only had a slim chance, but how many times had he escaped the crazies in the cities, in the towns, on his quest to pick up items for the market, in his quest to stay alive?
He could do it, just this one last time - escape and find Robert, bring him back here so that he could free these people. He only made it as far as the door when the barrel of a rifle appeared.
"Ah-ah-ah," said the soldier - not Jace, but they were all beginning to look the same to Mark. He knew there were good amongst the bad, those who Robert had brought over to his side were testament to that. But there was precious little evidence here today, just men who followed the orders of De Falaise blindly, and to the letter. "Get your scrawny little arse back inside the truck, or I'll fill you so full of metal you'll need a can opener to take a dump."
He pushed Mark backwards, where he landed on someone's legs.
Once the last prisoner was on board, the doors were shut again. The truck's engine revved, getting ready to set off again. There couldn't be many more stops on the journey to the castle, Mark realised that. No more chances, if he was being realistic.
Mark wondered what was happening back at the camp, whether they were aware of the massacre yet? Did Robert know - and what would he do when he found out? Contrary to what Sophie, and many others, believed, he wasn't some kind of superman. The state he'd been in the last time Mark had seen him proved that.
But, nevertheless, Mark had faith. He'd seen Robert do amazing things since he'd met him.
The Hooded Man, as he'd come to be known, was really and truly their only hope.
And Mark wouldn't - couldn't - give up on that hope.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
By the time they got back from the village, the rest of Robert's men already knew what had happened. A sombre Bill had radioed and told Jack he could stop trying to raise Green Five. On the return drive, the atmosphere was tense. Bill and Robert only had one brief conversation, which turned into an argument.
"You should never have let Mark go with them," Robert said again.
"I've known the lad longer than you have," Bill had retorted, "and when Mark sets his mind on somethin'... Anyway, ye can talk - never really wanted him around in the first place. Didn't want any of us, if the truth be told."
"Shut your mouth."
"It's true - look at ye, playin' the hero. Didn't want to get involved, though. Not really. Wanted to hide and hope everything would go away."
"I said, shut your mouth or God help me I-"
"Boys, boys," broke in Mary, who was trying to concentrate on the dirt track ahead of her. "We're all on the same side, right? I know you're both worried sick about Mark, but how is fighting among yourselves going to help?"
Robert and Bill settled back into their respective seats, sulking.
"We need to keep a level head," advised Mary, not even sure if they were listening to her, "figure out what to do next."
"D
idn't hardly know the lad," Bill took great pleasure in pointing out.
"Maybe not, but I've seen the way things work in that forest; you're a team, and if one of you is in trouble, the rest rally round."
"Reckon you're part a the team, now, eh? Only bin 'ere five minutes, lookin' after lover boy there."
It was Mary's turn to answer him back. "Look, I didn't ask to be dragged into this. But the Sheriff's men destroyed my home, I very nearly ended up like Mark - I think that entitles me to be a member of your exclusive little club, don't you?"
Bill said nothing.
Silence reigned then, but what Bill had said played on Mary's mind. What right did she have to interfere? Yes, she'd saved Robert's life - but he'd saved hers as well, just by showing up. And sure, she'd gone with them to look after their leader, but wasn't there a huge part of her that tagged along because she wanted to fit in somewhere again. Because she was tired of being alone, tired of talking to an imaginary dead brother in her head?
Hey, I object to the word imaginary. I'm as real as you are, Moo-Moo.
Mary ignored the voice, focussing on her driving and getting them all back to the camp before a scrap broke out.
When they returned, Tate was to the first to greet them. "So?"
Robert waited for the rest of the question.
"Are we finally going to do something about this Sheriff, once and for all? Are we finally going to go in there and get those people out?"
"Like your Gwen, you mean?"
"Who's Gwen?" Mary wanted to know.
"Someone I failed," explained Tate. "Someone else the Frenchman took, like Mark - except she's been there so much longer. They took her to be with him." His face fell at the thought. Mary's hand went to her mouth and he saw it. "What, child?"
"It's just... just something that Colonel said, the one who came to my home with his soldiers."
Robert and Tate frowned.
"What did he say to you?" Robert asked.
"I was to be her replacement, I think."
"What?" Tate moved forwards.
"He told me that the Sheriff, De Falaise, was growing bored of the woman he has... He called her a 'companion'."
"I think we all know what's meant by that," said Bill, not helping matters.
"What exactly did he say, Mary?" Robert coaxed. "It might be important."
"Something along the lines of De Falaise needing fresh female company, and he thought he'd found it. I was a little too 'headstrong' though, apparently - maybe he can't handle strong women?"
"This is gettin' us nowhere," Bill moaned, "what're we goin' to do about Mark?"
Robert rubbed his neck. "I need time to think."
As he walked off, pulling the hood over his head, Bill called out after him, "Time's summat we don't have. You heard what that there Mills said: the weekend. We need a plan, bloody quick."
But Robert was already disappearing into the foliage. Bill looked like he was going to go after him, but Jack stopped him. "Ease up on him, eh, fella? Let the guy do his thinking." Bill didn't argue, just gave him a stern look and tramped off.
Mary watched Robert go. She'd heard Jack's words, too, but something was nagging at her to follow. As the rest of the group went back to the fire, in preparation for the night ahead of them, they left her gazing out into the forest.
Then, once she was alone, she disappeared into it herself.
Mary soon regretted her decision. The further inside the forest she went, and the darker it became, the more her imagination began to play tricks.
There was no sign of Robert. He was like a spirit who'd suddenly decided to leave this plane of existence. Mary blundered onwards, pushing back leaves and banging into tree trunks. Though she'd spent much of her life outdoors, these surroundings were alien to her - nothing like the open fields she was used to.
There was a strange noise off to her left. She looked down and found that she'd instinctively drawn her Peacekeeper.
Another sound, and Mary turned again - her gun hand shaking. She had absolutely no idea where the camp was now, and couldn't find it again even if she tried. Light was waning and the shadows the trees cast in the moonlight made her shiver.
Crack! - off to her right, this time. She cocked the pistol, but stopped herself from firing. What if it was someone from the camp, someone who'd had the same idea? It might even be Robert for all she knew.
Or someone else, Moo-Moo. Could be one of De Falaise's men.
They wouldn't be that stupid, she told him. Mary had been told about the times they'd been totally humiliated by Robert. Now that he had more men on his side - some of them the very soldiers that were sent in to catch him - they wouldn't dare enter. Especially at night.
But are you sure? Better be sure, Sis.
Mary headed in the direction of the noise. David was right. What if it was one of their enemies creeping through the forest, on a mission to kill them all? She couldn't just let them get on with it.
"Reckon you're part a the team, now, eh? Only bin 'ere five minutes..." Bill's offhand comment came back to her, reminding her that she barely knew these madmen living out in the back of beyond. Yet she'd felt a kinship with them from very early on; even Bill. They were banding together to fight a common foe, one that she'd had a run-in with herself. She felt a loyalty to them, even if this place was yet to feel like any sort of home.
Mary tried to be as quiet as she could, heading in the direction of a clearing. The trees were parting, offering her a view of something ahead: the thing that had been making all the noise. It looked like something out of a horror movie, dark horns, a snout: demon-like in its appearance.
She let out a gasp, startled by the shape no more than a few metres away. Her gun hand was shaking as she brought it up to aim.
There was someone beside her, at her ear - someone she hadn't heard approaching. Someone raising her gun arm into the air and snatching the Peacekeeper from her in one quick movement. Mary looked sideways, terrified, seeing only another dark shape there.
"Ssshhh. Watch."
The same hand that had taken the pistol from her pointed towards the clearing, at the creature now illuminated by the moonlight. It bathed the animal in its rays, uncovering it as it did so. Another gasp issued from her as she saw the stag in all its wonderful glory.
It looked towards her, fixing Mary with its ebony eyes. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. Still shaken, she looked again at the shadowy figure beside her. A hooded man.
"Robert?" she whispered.
"Yes." He raised the hood and his features caught the moonlight too.
"Why did you follow me, Mary?"
She shook her head, at a loss to explain it to herself let alone him. In the end she decided to just change the subject. "What... what just happened here?"
"Couldn't you feel it?" Robert replied.
She had felt something; the seconds slowing down to match her heartbeat, the fear of the beast and a stranger beside her, giving way to a sense of supreme tranquillity. "It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
"You almost killed it."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I almost killed it myself, once." Robert handed her back the pistol. Then he left her side and walked into the clearing.
She watched him standing there, as he looked up at the moon. Unlike her, he was totally at home here. This was where he drew his energy from, where he felt at peace. She understood now why he'd come so deep into the forest to think.
"Who are you, Robert?" she said.
"I've asked myself that question a lot recently. I used to know, implicitly, who and what I was. Now..." Mary walked over. "Sometimes I..."
"Go on," she encouraged.
Robert let his head fall, shaking it. "It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud."
"Tell me."
"Sometimes I feel as if the forest is speaking to me. Like just now, and in my dreams." He let out a weary laugh. "Does that make me a lunatic? Lord knows I've been thro
ugh enough to send me crazy."
Mary laughed herself. "I'm afraid I can't really judge. I hear the voice of my dead brother in times of stress. Now you think I'm crazy."
Robert turned. She could feel his gaze on her and looked away, though only for a moment.
"I guess Tate is right when he says we've all been through our own personal tragedies."
"And what did you go through, Robert? What made you run away?" Mary stepped closer to him. "Joanne and Stevie, right?"
Like the stag, she was expecting him to bolt. She felt him tense, but he didn't move. Finally, he spoke. Opened up to her, told her all about what had happened: having to watch his wife and child die, powerless to help them. Waiting to die alongside them, but being denied even that. Then he told her about the men in yellow suits, what they'd done to the house, to Max. How it had driven him almost over the edge, driven him into the heart of this place so he could wait out his life alone and be with them again. It hadn't quite worked out that way.
Tears tracked down her face as Mary listened to Robert's story - a tale he'd kept from the closest of his men, but which he was now revealing to her.
When he was done, she put an arm around his shoulder, pulled his head down and held him to her. He didn't resist, but she felt him shaking as the tears came.
"It's okay... It's okay," she repeated over and over, realising that the words sounded so hollow. It wasn't okay, nothing about what Robert had been through was. But destiny, or whatever you wanted to call it, had given him a new identity, a new purpose. Where he hadn't been able to protect his family, he could still protect the people of this region from De Falaise. It was what he'd been doing these past few months, and it was what he had to do now as they faced their toughest challenge.
Slowly, Mary eased him back when she felt the sobbing subside. "You didn't come out here to think at all, did you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what to do - and your men know it too. We just have to figure out a way of doing it that'll work."
"Mary," he said, wiping his cheeks, "if I didn't think you were crazy before - I do now."
