Hughes leant up on his elbows again. “Take something and hold it over your eye like a bandage.” The excruciating pain caused it to come out as little more than a grunt. “The more of your face that’s covered the better.”
Mike looked at Hughes, grateful for the advice. “The more of my face that’s covered the better? Are you saying I’m ugly?”
“Well I wasn’t, kid, but now you come to mention it...” Hughes smiled then winced as he lowered himself back down on the gurney.
Lucy jumped down from the ambulance and removed the Glock from the back of her jeans. Mike shook his head. “I can’t shoot for shit at the best of times and if I’m going to be dizzy and disorientated I’ll probably end up shooting myself. You keep it. You’ll need it when you come in to rescue me.” He smiled at her.
If it wasn’t for the copious amounts of blood staining his face, she would have kissed him. Instead, she kissed three of her fingers and put them up to his mouth. “Be careful, babe. Go get our family back.”
She couldn’t have said anything more encouraging to him. “Our family.” It was odd, but that’s what it felt like. The group had only been together for a few days, but it felt like a lifetime. Lucy, Samantha, Mike, Emma, Sammy and Jake, they were all one family now.
*
Fry cupped his thick rough fingers around Beth’s chin and pulled her a little closer to him. His blue eyes stared into hers as if he was trying to look into her soul. “What is it I’m missing here?” he asked. For all her guts and bravado, he was now back in charge. He pulled his gaze away from her and scanned the room. The villagers were staring at him, but as soon as he turned towards them their frightened eyes shot to the floor like animals daring to challenge the alpha male. “You!” he shouted, pointing at a crying woman who was desperately trying to nurse her fiancé back to consciousness. Two of the raiders dragged her across to their leader and threw her down in front of him.
“What’s this girl’s name?” he demanded.
“Beth,” she replied shakily, her eyes firmly fixed on the floor, too afraid to look at the terrifying giant.
“Where’s Beth from?” he asked, moving his gaze from the cowering woman back to the farmer’s daughter. The evil grin was back on his face.
“I think she’s from Leeds. I don’t know her well,” she replied nervously.
“And why is she here?” The young woman looked up towards Beth. She had not heard any of their previous conversation and the fear of what this mad man would do to her and her fiancé for telling a lie was too potent.
“Her uncle has a farm here,” she said tearfully before dropping her eyes back down to the ground.
“Oh, does he now?” A huge smile showing ugly yellow and brown teeth cracked over Fry’s face. “And where is her family now, exactly?”
“I don’t know.” For a split second a flare of anger shot across Fry’s face. He nodded to one of his men who viciously yanked the young woman’s hair. She shrieked with pain. “I don’t know, I don’t know where her parents are.” With another nod from Fry, the soldier tugged even harder. She screamed again. “Her brother and sister are upstairs.” The soldier let go of her hair and the woman collapsed down on the floor, sobbing.
Fry’s eyes shot angrily towards Beth’s. He saw panic, and then he looked around the room. There were no children. He cursed himself for not noticing before, and then he cursed his men for not taking the initiative to search the rest of the hotel. He was just about to order a party to sweep the building when the doors to the dining room burst open. The guards he had assigned to the front door were supporting two wounded men. He recognised the one on the right – he had been stood beside him when the enemy had opened fire at the ridge. He didn’t recognise the other one, but half his face was covered with a bloody rag.
Beth looked down at the crying woman on the floor. She knew she was scared, but she hated her for what she had done. What kind of a coward would sell out a room full of innocent children to save her own skin? Then she looked up at the wounded soldiers. She hoped they were in agony. One of them looked dead already; she hoped that was the case. She hoped he had suffered in the last few moments of his life. She looked towards the other one. His uncovered eye was surveying the dining room, looking at his fellow bandits, looking at the villagers. His head moved towards her and she stared straight into his one good eye. He was familiar somehow. His face was covered in blood, his stained clothes were little more than rags and there was no reason why she would ever have happened across this man before, but the longer she looked, the more she became convinced that she knew him.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Fry shouted, looking towards his other men. “Give them a hand,” he demanded. “And you two, get the fuck back to that front door. No-one told you to leave your fucking posts.” The two raiders had thought they would score points with Fry for helping their wounded brethren, but they retreated in fear as his barked orders cut through them.
Suddenly, the blood-covered soldier on the left bellowed. “Stop!” The retreating men halted. The eyes of everyone in the room shot towards the wounded man. Fry’s face turned from anger to confusion.
Beth and the bloody man were still staring straight at each other. He could see the fear and uncertainty in her eyes and then a spark of hope as realisation dawned. An evil little smile turned up the corner of his lips, and he released the body he was supporting. The corpse of the lifeless soldier thudded heavily onto the carpeted hardwood floorboards. The two guards instinctively moved forward, believing that the second man was about to fall as well, but their attention was drawn away as a small cylinder scuttled across the floor. Fry moved his eyes from the dead man towards a second rolling can.
The rolled up T-shirt that was being used as a bandage dropped from the wounded man’s face. Fry and his army looked up in bewilderment. Then, like a speed boat propeller, the bloody figure burst into life. His hands shot down to his belt, where he flicked the pins out of two more stun grenades and threw them in different directions. It was only then that Fry and his men realised they had been duped. Mike saw their weapons rise and he whirled around like a spinning top, pulled his knife from his waistband and plunged it into the neck of one of the guards before pouncing on the other like a wild animal. The soldiers’ weapons were already raised towards him when the blinding flashes and deafening cracks filled the room.
Beth leapfrogged over the bar and landed heavily on her side as the smoke, screams and splutters filled the air. Fry tried to bark something at his men but the disorientation and the pain in his ears, eyes and lungs meant he couldn’t do anything but collapse to the floor.
The choking smoke was already beginning to incapacitate Mike, but in one last effort he managed to force his knife into the stomach of his target. He pulled the knife back out and started to crawl across the floor towards the man with the mad eyes. He made it halfway before his strength gave out. All the troops had given him advice on how best to deal with the stun grenades, but in the end he had ignored it all when given an opportunity to reduce the enemy’s numbers.
Mike’s lungs felt as if they were full of hot ash. His face grimaced in agony, but the grimace turned to a smile in the thick smoke as he heard the door burst open and the rattle of machine-gun fire begin.
Suddenly there was a crash of glass at the other side of the room. Through the dense smoke there was no way of telling who or what had caused it. Sharp cries of pain and muffled orders from the soldiers danced around the room, and everything turned to chaos.
Then the short bursts of controlled gunfire came to an abrupt stop and Mike could feel himself being lifted off the floor by two soldiers. They dragged him through the gas-filled room, into the foyer and out into the fresh air before returning for the villagers.
Mike sat coughing and spluttering on the front steps, eyes watering and lungs still burning, but with each breath the pain eased. The ambulance pulled up outside the hotel and Lucy jumped out to help him. She doused a gauze pad with some
water and washed the dried blood off his face. His eyes were bloodshot and they stung, but it was worth keeping them open just to see her.
The doors swung open again and the masked soldiers began to bring out the villagers. Some were in worse shape than others; the older ones struggled with their breathing and the pain. Lucy finished cleaning Mike’s face and gently rubbed her palm down the side of his cheek. As much as she wanted to tend to just the one patient, she started looking around to see who needed her help most urgently.
Mike grabbed one of the soldiers before he went back in. “How long will it be before it’s okay to breathe in there?”
“Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes,” he replied.
“There’s a young woman who dived over the bar to get cover. She’s with us.” Mike didn’t need to say any more.
His actions had meant the difference between winning and losing, so if anyone deserved some favouritism it was him. The soldier disappeared back into the hotel to look for Beth. Mike walked over to the ambulance and popped his head around the open door. Hughes turned to look at him and broke out into a wide grin.
“How are we doing, Private?” Mike asked in between splutters.
“All the better for seeing you, Mikey boy. Did anybody get hurt in there?” His voice was still strained, but the painkillers Lucy had given him had eased the agony a little.
“I don’t know for sure. Your guys went straight back in to bring everybody out, but from what I heard, there wasn’t much in the way of retaliation.”
Hughes smiled, nodded and closed his eyes like he had been waiting to hear the final result before finally giving in to his body’s need to rest. Mike felt good to know that his new friend was still fighting. He left him to rest and headed back to the entrance of the hotel. As he did, he saw Beth come through the doors. She was holding a tea towel up to her mouth and didn’t seem to have the same red eyes as most of the other evacuees. She took in a deep breath of clean air as she exited and immediately left her escort to run towards Mike.
The smile on his face at seeing his friend safe soon vanished when he saw the concern on hers. “Mike...” She was unsure of how to continue. “One of the mortar rounds hit the hotel. The hospital is rubble. Emma and Samantha were...”
She didn’t need to continue. It wouldn’t have mattered if the hotel were filled with napalm. Nothing was going to keep him out.
CHAPTER FIVE
A piece of glass had ripped into Fry’s leg as he made his escape out of the hotel. The stun grenades followed by the assault had created enough confusion for a seasoned campaigner like him to take flight. He looked behind before ducking behind a chicken coop full of squabbling hens, but the coast was clear. He slouched down and allowed himself the luxury of a few quiet coughs to clear his lungs. He looked at his leg. He had had worse injuries when he was on the force, but he needed to slow the bleeding. He tore off his shirt sleeve at the shoulder, wrapped the material tight around the wound and tied it in a knot. He moved his leg around to ensure it was comfortable then scrambled to his feet again, making sure he kept low.
He peeked around the corner of the coop. There was no sign of anyone following or even looking, so he made a break towards the privet hedge that enclosed the hotel grounds. For a smaller man it would have been a formidable obstacle, but his long legs allowed him to leapfrog the bushes and land safely on the sodden grass below. The rain had been relentless for the last few days; the sky was grey, the earth was cold, but he knew he would live to fight another day and the hatred within him warmed his soul.
He was determined to get back to base, to the boss man. The Don, what a fucking joke. The Don was a two-bit gangster who the local paper once jokingly referred to as “The Don of Durham”, and somehow the name stuck. Before everything went to hell he had been involved in drugs, people trafficking, prostitution, illegal gambling, loan sharking; the list went on. He was vicious and remorseless, but he was hardly a criminal mastermind. The papers made him out to be something he was not and he started believing his own hype. As the myth grew, so did his strength and power. He had countless officials, councillors and police on his payroll. When the UK went into lockdown, rather than seeing the end in sight, he saw a new beginning. He quietly raised an army and when the time was right took control of most of the North East. He was probably the most powerful man alive, and Fry was his right hand.
Whether Candleton had resources or not, that wasn’t relevant now. A point would have to be made. These people would have to be dealt with, but first, Fry would have to get back to base. He paused for a moment to get his bearings and then began to jog towards the tree line.
*
Shaw had taken charge of the operation to clear the rubble in the hotel and see if there were any survivors. A bomb had gone off in a school in Afghanistan when he was based out there and he had spent days trying to rescue the trapped children inside. He had seen horrors beyond words, but he had seen miracles as well. He had got most of the troops and reservists to help, leaving just two soldiers at each blockade, one Jackal alternating between bridges, and one Jackal roaming, just in case there were any enemy combatants still around.
It was heavy, dusty work, and although people were tired, they were not going to give up. Six people were removing debris, which was then passed down a human conveyor belt and piled up in a cleared corner of the dining room next to the covered bodies of the dead raiders.
Sammy had taken it upon herself to organise some of the children into groups of water carriers. They weren’t able to help with the heavy lifting, but they could keep the workers hydrated.
Lucy wanted nothing more than to be in the hotel helping to find her friends, but her first responsibility had to be towards the wounded. After the smoke had cleared, she set up a makeshift treatment room in the foyer. Hughes was asleep in the back of the ambulance. He was by far the worst case, but some older people were having respiratory problems due to the stun grenades, and the man who the raiders had beaten was concussed. His partner sat next to him, a quivering, weeping wreck.
“I’m an idiot”, spat a well-spoken Indian man who was digging next to Mike. It was the first thing he had said since work had begun and Mike and the others looked at him in surprise. The man stood up straight, signalled for someone else to take his place and swiftly exited the building.
“What the hell was that all about?” Mike asked the older villager who had now taken his place.
The man shook his head. “Don’t know. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen him annoyed. Nice bloke, he’s a vet, lives here with his wife, both quiet, keep themselves to themselves, but nice people”.
Mike looked in the direction the vet had taken. He shook his head briefly, wondering what was more important than the job at hand, and carried on removing bricks and fallen masonry.
In the foyer, Beth walked up to Lucy with a bottle of water. “Have you seen my mum or Uncle Dan anywhere? I’ve not caught sight of them since all this began.”
Lucy’s memory flashed back to the room behind reception. The diseased fatty flesh being shredded by the food mixer in order to create a home-made bio-weapon. She closed her eyes and her ears blocked out the coughing, the spluttering, the noise from the other room. Her eyes met with Beth’s. “I’m so sorry. Your mom, your dad, your uncle, your cousin... none of them made it.”
“Oh.” It was all Beth could say. “Oh.” Her eyes unlocked from Lucy’s and became distant. She would have to find her Aunt Bridget and let her know. She would have to tell her siblings. “Oh.”
“Beth... Beth...” Lucy moved towards her, but she recoiled.
“No, no, I’m okay. I need to find my auntie.” She turned and darted into the dining room. For a split second Lucy thought about following her, then an elderly woman’s coughing fit grabbed her attention.
*
Fry crouched down behind some bushes twenty metres away from the south bridge. He could see RAMs wandering through the trees on the other side while two lone sentries
watched. The Jackal had left a few minutes earlier. He had watched it go and come back three times now, regular as clockwork. There was a gap of twelve to fifteen minutes each time. That was his window of opportunity. The next time it came and went, he would act. He would make sure that when he returned here with three times as many soldiers, there would be nothing left except a few RAMs and village full of booty. And that little shit who had duped him, the one who came in dressed as one of his soldiers, the one who released the grenades: whether he was alive or dead, Fry was going to hang, draw and quarter the fucker, tie a bow around the remains and serve him to The Don on a silver platter.
*
Mike hadn’t allowed himself to think about what they might find underneath the rubble. Most of the outside wall was still intact, but before him was a sea of wreckage. Until he saw his sister, though, he wasn’t going to give up. He felt a tug on his T-shirt and looked round. Sammy held a cup of water up to him. Beth’s little sister Annie was by her side offering water to another worker, and other children were doing the same. Mike took the cup gratefully and glugged it down. The fire in his belly was flickering wildly as he looked down at his little sister and thought about Emma. He took a moment and knelt down. “Thanks, Sammy Bear, I needed that. How’s Jake?”
“He’s scared. He’s with John and Bridget.” She looked towards the mountain of debris. “Don’t stop ’til you find her.”
Mike choked up at the words, and he too looked towards the rubble. I swear. I’m not going anywhere, Sammy. Not until Em’s back with us.” A sad smile bled across Sammy’s face, and she took the cup from Mike and walked away. He hoped beyond everything this was a promise he wouldn’t have to break. Two tears cleared a streak through the grime on his cheeks as he watched his little sister head back to the dining room. Even though he was there, digging, pulling the collapsed building away brick by brick, he felt helpless. He was about to start digging again when he heard a yelp.
Realm of the Raiders Page 6
