The Silent Neighbours

by S. T. Boston

  “Thanks,” Adam replied, placing the last of his things into the plastic container. “As I said, if you want to purchase a signed copy I'll be in the foyer shortly, or if you want your copy signed I'd be happy to oblige.” He clicked the handles down over the lid and collected the box from the floor.

  “Just how many Earth-Breeds has Samuel Becker killed now? Ten?” the voice replied, an air of nervous tension in its softness. Adam felt the hackles rise on the back of his neck, as if someone had just stomped carelessly over his grave. Clutching the box, he whipped around and tried to glare through the lights that stung his eyes. Three rows from the back he could just make out the figure of a dark haired young woman, still in her seat.

  “I never wrote anything about that in the book,” he said warily, a nervous octave higher than he would have liked. Naturally, there had been several things he'd left out. Their home town and the details about the Gift being another. If people took it seriously, he didn't want some whack-job to try and find them, eager to test out either of their healing abilities. “Just who are you, exactly?” His voice echoed through the empty room, amplified by the PA system.

  “Maya Tomenko,” she replied. Adam side-stepped the stage lighting and hopped down from the temporary platform. He saw that Maya was a young woman in her mid to late twenties, her dark brown, almost alabaster coloured hair fell over her shoulders, deepening her tanned complexion and highlighting her granite grey eyes. She was smartly dressed in a three-quarter length black coat; beneath it Adam could just make out a white blouse. Her black trousers disappeared into the top of a pair of boots that came half way up her calves. “It's imperative that you listen to what I have to say, the survival of both you and your sister depend on it!”

  For a split second, it seemed as if someone had vacuumed all the air out of the room; Adam's breath caught in his throat. The young woman remained seated, eyes fixed on him pensively.

  “How do d—do y—you know th—this?” he finally managed to stammer, relieved when his chest relaxed enough to let some much-needed air in.

  “Let's just say I'm someone who isn't keen to end up on Sam Becker's kill list,” she announced bluntly, her wide and somehow familiar grey eyes fixed intently on Adam. He remained three rows away from her, the plastic box tucked firmly under his arm.

  “You're Earth-Breed?” he spat, gripping the plastic container tightly.

  “Was. I mean yes, but I'm no threat to you, I'm here to help.”

  “Why the hell should I trust you?” he growled, the fear gradually settling into anger.

  “Because if I was here to kill you, I'd have been waiting silently outside your aunt and uncle's old house. I'm guessing that's where you're staying tonight,” she said calmly. “Being in Brighton, I'm guessing you don't plan to drive back to London at this hour.” The mention of his aunt and uncle's took him off guard – the last surviving members of his and Lucie's immediate family had been claimed like so many by the Reaper.

  “How do you know about that?”

  “There were a good few of them – us – left after the events at the Pyramid,” she began, her eyes growing distant. “Your names were known to the Earth-Breed who didn't die that night. It wasn't hard for them to find you.”

  “If that's the case, why didn't they come for us before? Why did they let Sam kill ten of their— I mean your kind?”

  “The first few were inevitable, the rest were casualties of war,” she said coolly, as if she were discussing the weather. “We were also leaderless and directionless; laying low you might say. The few who remain have direction now, a leader. I don't have time to go into the finer details, either trust me and survive tonight, saving Lucie's life in the process, or take your chances on your own and be dead or captured by first light.”

  “What about Sam?” Adam snapped.

  “They know he's taking a target in France tonight. It may already be too late – they plan to take you all at once.” She stood up and swept her dark hair back behind her shoulders. “Please, Adam,” she continued, a hint of panic in her voice. “You're not the only one being hunted. I risked a lot to do this, I was on the team sent to capture you, only I had other plans. I'll explain everything once we're moving. Time is short.”

  “What's in it for you?” he asked, his brain working at warp speed to try and reason the fast-developing events. His first concern was his sister – he hoped Sam could handle whatever was coming his way. “And what the hell has Lucie got to do with it? She wasn't even involved.”

  “She's your sister, and six months ago, she married Sam. They want to make you pay for what you've both done – anyone in your family is fair game. There are much bigger things in play here than you, but you three are his first concern,” Maya fired back, eyes looking hungrily towards the exit. “You need to call Lucie,” she added, “I just pray the mobile phone network is functioning near her bar. If we stall any longer, it will be too late.” Maya gave Adam a last, fleeting look before she headed towards the door, long black coat tails trailing behind her.

  “Wait!” Adam cried, discarding the box full of notes and books on an empty chair. “They know she runs a bar now?”

  “They know everything.” Maya reached the door and flung it open, bathing herself in light from the hotel foyer. “Where's your car?”

  “Parked across the street.” Adam ran to catch up with her, brushing past the two men in the Jesus tee-shirts.

  “Good. Give me the keys, I'll drive – you need to call Lucie.” She shook her wrist, revealing an expensive watch. “Shit!” she exclaimed. “You need to get her out of that bar, Adam. You need to do it now!”

  Chapter 4

  Lucie Becker tugged the receptacle free from the coffee machine and knocked the spent, ground beans into a small waste bin at the side of the counter. Satisfied that it was empty, she stole another quick glance at her mobile phone, the tenth such check in under a minute, and willed it to ring. He'll call any minute, any minute now, she kept telling herself over and over in her head. Sam always called when he was away on a job – once the deed was done and he was back to safety, he always called. Clipping the container back into the espresso machine, she picked up her annoyingly silent phone and hit the menu button, bringing it to life. The somewhat unreliable phone network was working; she even had five bars of reception, something of a miracle in these uncertain times. Hitting the volume button, she double-checked that it wasn't set to silent. It wasn't, but she'd known that already. Just ring, she thought again, as if the mere power of thought would magically force the call through.

  In the days following Adam and Sam's return home, Adam had spent his time penning the events that had changed the modern world forever while Sam had practically moved into their family home in Eltham. It was no surprise to either Adam or Lucie, as he'd never spent much time at his own place anyway. Dark days had followed, days of uncertainty, days when it wasn't safe to wander the streets of London in the day, let alone at night. Over those first few months, when the three of them had literally been barricaded like prisoners in the family home, only venturing out in the daytime to collect food that was being strictly rationed out by the military, she and Sam developed a closeness which blossomed into a relationship. Despite the fact she had known Sam her whole life, it didn't feel odd – more like a natural progression. He'd turned out to be the missing piece of a puzzle, the piece that had made everything fit and as time past and their situation improved, they'd grown to rely on one another more and more. Then one warm and sunny day in July, while they'd been picnicking under the canopy of two ancient oaks in Oxleas Meadows, enjoying the summer sun on their faces, Sam had proposed. A full-blown, down on one knee affair, not the kind of romantic gesture she would ever have imagined him making. She agreed then and there. With most of the UK still under strict martial law and things far from normal, they knew they had a wait before any kind of service could even be planned.

  Over a year had passed since the virus claimed so many lives; and conversation
about the events of those fateful days had petered out, even between her brother and Sam. There were times when they were almost able to fool themselves into pretending that nothing had ever happened, times when they were together at the house and chatting about childhood memories and people now lost. Then on one oppressively muggy August day, which rumbled with thunder and threatened rain, a package had arrived.

  That was how it all began. Contained within the package was a gun. Accompanying the gun was a sheet of paper, detailing the name and address of the target, and two syringes with instructions on how to use them. Lucie had made herself scarce that night while the boys had talked about the strange parcel.

  It was how the hidden war, the war against those responsible for all the death and suffering had begun. It was also the first sign that the Arkkadians were once again a presence on Earth, albeit a very elusive one. At first, Adam had insisted on being involved in the justice that they'd been chosen to mete out. Sam had refused Adam's request outright, saying that despite the baptism of fire he'd endured during their time in the States and Egypt, he was not a trained solider. Eventually, Adam had listened and agreed to let Sam do the job.

  Lucie's pleas for Sam not to go had fallen on deaf ears. “Hey, don't worry,” he'd said before leaving that first time, “I was always a difficult bastard to kill; now I'm practically the Terminator.”

  The first job had been close to home, on the other side of the city. It was a stark reminder that the Earth-Breeds left behind could be anyone you'd pass in the street, without being able to distinguish any difference between them and humans. Much to both Lucie and Adam's relief, Sam had returned home within five hours, rumbling noisily up the dark street on his Triumph risking arrest for being out past the government curfew. As time went on, and overseas travel began to get up and running, the targets had become wider spread. The introduction of the first transatlantic flights had seen Sam gone for three weeks. With no domestic telecommunications working, the first Lucie knew he was safe was when he walked through the door, clutching his Deuter backpack, a stupidly smug grin on his face.

  Those tasking the targets never made themselves known; merely ensuring Sam had the tools needed to do the job. One of the benefits was the ludicrously large sums of money which started appearing in his account. Lucie would have gladly given it all back however, if those unwelcome intelligence packages would stop. Six months ago, once law and order, and a general standard of living had returned, they were married. Nothing posh, just a small service with Lucie's best friend Claire and Adam. Most her other friends were either dead or had fled the city and couldn't be contacted.

  On their wedding night, she'd finally managed to ask Sam the question which had been eating away at her ever since his proposal. Both slightly drunk, and laying in each other's arms, she'd turned to him. “You do know that I'm going to grow old? You'll have to watch it happen while you remain unchanged. Do you think you'll still love me?”

  Sam had chuckled. “Oh, I fully intend on chopping you in for a younger model once you hit forty – being eternally youthful has its perks.” It was Sam's way of putting her mind at rest, in a way that only Sam could. He followed up by swearing that if he ever saw Oriyanna or any Arkkadian Elder again, he'd ask for the process to be reversed. While the Gift was undoubtedly handy for healing minor wounds and preventing those annoying bouts of summer and winter flu, eternal life wasn't an idea he relished.

  Placing the phone back on the counter, Lucie glanced at the one customer still in the bar. When she looked up, the lone male quickly averted his eyes and retuned his attention to the latte he'd been nursing for the past twenty minutes. It was growing late and she badly wanted to lock up and head home; she didn't normally close until half an hour before curfew, but the stress of the day had taken its toll. Despite the growing sense of law and order in the city, it was still best to be back in the safety of your home when the power went off at one. Thankfully the small bar-come-coffee shop was minutes from the house, allowing Lucie to make the most of the last minute trade, no matter how sparse custom was. The government were promising the daily interruptions to service would soon end. Essential maintenance work was the official line offered as an explanation. Many suspected it was to help enforce the curfew, which conveniently began at the same time the power shut down. Those like Lucie, who ran businesses that opened late were issued a permit, granting them an extra half an hour to travel home, but thankfully she'd never needed it. Tonight would be no different; it was only just gone half past ten, but she'd had enough.

  Sensing that she'd caught him staring the guy looked up briefly from his coffee and offered her an unsettling smile. The smile didn't reach his eyes, which were cold and devoid of any emotion. A chill ran through Lucie's body. Looking away from her again, the man lifted his mug and drank from it, although Lucie was sure that by now the coffee inside must be stone cold.

  The loud ring of her phone snatched her away from the unsettling hold the customer had on her and her stressed body filled with a sense of relief. Finally, Sam, thank god, she thought turning her back to the creepy guy and reaching for her phone. The relief was only temporary however, when she saw Adam's number displayed on the screen. Although she was always happy to speak to her brother, the thought of him tying up the line at a time like this was annoying. Snatching the phone off the counter, she hit the answer button. “Adam,” she began, instantly feeling guilty when she heard the annoyed tone in her voice. “What is it?”

  “Are you still at work?” The line was unusually clear; she heard a hint of panic in his words that caught her off guard.

  “Ye— yeah, why?” she replied, turning to face the shop floor. Her lone customer was once again watching her with more interest than she was comfortable with.

  “Is anyone with you? Just answer yes or no.”

  “Yes,” she replied anxiously.

  “How many?”

  “Just one,” she muttered in a low voice.

  “Male or female?”

  “The first option,” she replied, thinking on her feet. Her earlobe had begun to sting, the smart phone pressed to her ear far more tightly than was needed. She fiddled with her long, brown ponytail, twisting the locks through her fingers.

  “I think you're in danger, but I can't explain now,” Adam said hurriedly. “You need to get out of the shop, and you need to go now!”

  “I don't un— under— underst— stand,” Lucie stammered, her pulse quickening.

  “Please, trust me, just act natural and head to the rear of the building,” her brother fired down the line. “Go straight out the back door and get into your car. Don't bother stopping to lock up and don't approach that customer and ask him to leave, do you understand? Make it seem like you're just going out the back to grab something.”

  “No problem, I can sort that out for you,” she said, trying to make it sound like a normal call.

  “Once you're in the car, drive to the place where we used to spend summer holidays with Mum and Dad.”

  Lucie knew exactly where her brother meant. The family had inherited a small thatched cottage from her mum's parents, it lay in the sleepy village of Alton Barnes in Wiltshire. The place held many fond memories for Lucie; the small, modest cottage would have been laying empty for the last few years, and no one had been there since the world had changed. While she knew exactly how to get there, the idea of driving well over a hundred and twenty miles wasn't a tempting thought. And why the hell was he even asking her to make the trip? Her hands begin to shake, and she instantly tried to quell it by moving her hand from her hair to her apron, clutching at the front pocket and pressing the phone even harder against her burning ear, so hard her earlobe throbbed.

  “O— okay,” she managed. “I can do that, I'm off tomorrow so I'll meet you then.” She offered her lone customer a faint smile. He gave no reaction, other than to continue watching her with interest.

  “Good thinking, sis.” Adam's voice came down the line, and in the background Lucie co
uld hear the sound of a revving engine; wherever her brother was, he was in a car and on the move. “Call me when you're clear, before you get out of London and lose the mobile phone signal.”

  “Okay.”

  “Oh, and sis?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Be careful!” The line went dead.

  Removing the phone from her ear, Lucie dropped her hand to her side and collected up a rather grubby-looking cloth from the counter, before making her way to the small kitchen area at the back of the shop, letting the swinging door shut behind her. In the artificial light, she took a deep, steadying breath and grabbed her bag from the top of the microwave. Opening it, she made a cursory check for her car keys. Snatching them out, a cold hand wrapped itself around her mouth and pull her backwards, and the keys and the phone clattered onto the tiled floor. She gave a small, muffled cry of surprise and fear and her already shaky legs turn to pure jelly.

  “Shushhh,” came a surprisingly soft voice from behind her. “Do not scream, I am here to help.” The voice was unmistakably female. Lucie's head swam with questions; every part of her had expected the attacker's voice to be male. As suddenly as the hand had grabbed her it was gone, and Lucie whipped her body around defensively, to try and protect herself from an attack she felt sure was imminent. Readying her fists to punch out, she froze. The woman standing in front of her had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen, and her long blonde hair flowed down over her shoulders where it met with a black, tight fitting long sleeve top. Her trousers matched, giving her an almost assassin-like appearance. Before Lucie's spinning mind had time to question it any further the swinging, saloon-style door to the kitchen burst open.

  The coffee-nursing customer came rushing in, a gun clenched firmly in his hand. At that exact instant, everything seemed to slow down. The woman's hands pulled Lucie out of the way; her shaky legs could offer no resistance so she just went with the motion. The deafening sound of gunfire erupted through the small, confined kitchen and somewhere, far off in a world where time was operating at the correct speed, Lucie heard crockery smashing. Her back hit the wall, sending a selection of stainless steel ladles and spatulas crashing to the floor, and Lucie watched as the woman ducked low and removed a pistol from a belt around her waist. She moved far quicker than what seemed possible, her brilliant blonde hair whipping around her like a shawl. With deadly accuracy, she discharged a round. Through wide, frightened eyes Lucie watched blood spray from the customer's neck and splatter over a bunch of aprons that were hanging up just behind the door, giving them an odd, abstract art effect.