Don't Fear the Reaper

by A. S. French

  The colour drained from her face, the pain returned to her wrist, and her voice trembled as if she was about to collapse.

  ‘The David Bowie song?’ George said. ‘What does it mean?’

  Astrid had no doubt.

  ‘I have to save Olivia.’

  31 Memories

  My first memory is from age five. My mother dragged me to the nursery, and then abandoned me there. No warning of what would happen, no idea she would be leaving me. All I remember from the rest of the day are cold stares and harsh words, the pain of being ignored joined by resentment and ridicule. It was an alien and inhospitable place, so like the home I’d lived in since birth, only now there were people my age around me.

  Two years of blankness followed before the next recollection entered my brain, agony shooting through my seven-year-old leg when I knelt into the long grass growing at the back of our house. The broken glass cut through my knee like scissors dissecting paper. I screamed before help arrived in the shape of the old woman from next door. She kept a thousand cats in the house, creating an aroma of living death. She scooped me up in her fleshy arms, which were bigger than my whole body. Her smile was crooked, unbalanced to the point it was about to tumble off her face.

  ‘Let’s get you home,’ she said with a mouth full of yellow teeth. She whispered something in my ear, I can never remember what it was, giving me a taste of her breath, which had a fragrance of week-old fish. I still feel her arms around me, squashing my bones, putting her hands where she shouldn’t. Her smile grew wider the more she touched me. The scar on my knee is still there. And the other scars.

  Things didn’t improve after that, my teenage years spent in isolation, both inside and outside the family home. I was ostracised at school, with no friends and only enemies. It was a hostile environment which led me to abandon any attempt at education, skipping lessons so truanting became my specialist subject. Stealing became my new hobby. It started at home, taking coins from the pile my father dumped in his bedroom when he staggered home from the pub. I stole for attention, but he never noticed. Then it was stealing from my mother’s purse. If she comprehended what I did, she didn’t care.

  That was my apprenticeship before moving towards the bigger shops in our insignificant town. It was too easy. My small frame and angelic face deceived all the shop assistants and retailers. How could someone so perfect do something so wrong? This was my secret life until the police caught me stealing cigarettes. Taking me to a dirty back room at the station, three of them tried to scare me into going straight. Then they took me home and dropped me off at the front door and my mother’s stern look. The police nodded at a job well done. As soon as they left, she asked for her cigarettes.

  I left home at sixteen. That’s not strictly true; I was thrown out of the family home by my father because I went to a party when I was told to stay at home, his indifference towards me transforming into anger. It was the last time I saw him, and the only time I witnessed emotion of any kind from the man who called himself a parent.

  The memories never went away, always present in my mind. They all came back in a flash when she mentioned my name for the first time in years. Hands wrapped around my heart when she said it. There was no emotion in her voice, no anger or hate, but she had to feel something for me. You can’t be that much in love, and then feel nothing after it’s over. Not that it’s ever been over for me. All I had to do was wait for her to come to me.

  ‘Drive to Mile End Park in the East End of London,’ Astrid shouted.

  All she thought about was Olivia and her safety. She had to get there immediately, panic ripping her insides apart with the sound of the Bowie tune coming from Cara’s secret cameras, knowing it could only mean one thing: the conclusion for Cara’s revenge meant hurting Olivia. Anger replaced the panic, with thoughts of what she’d do to Cara when she got hold of her. The blood vibrated in Astrid’s veins, her arms trembling as she tried to stay in control.

  ‘She wants you upset,’ Laurel said.

  Astrid was aware of what Cara wanted; to see her angry and confused when she confronted her. She’d planned it to the finest detail to chip away at everything Astrid was good at. To take away her liberty, isolate her from all support; to weaken her physically and emotionally, make her a fugitive from justice, and force her to sacrifice one life to save another. Then, and only then, would Cara threaten her with the thing she cared about the most: Olivia.

  ‘Cara might not like getting what she wants.’

  ‘Would she kill a child?’ Laurel asked.

  Astrid couldn’t answer the question with any certainty. Cara’s time with Astrid had only buried her childhood pain, not erased it. Once Astrid broke her heart, it all resurfaced, apparently multiplied a thousandfold, sending her over the edge of sanity.

  ‘She won’t get the chance.’

  Astrid’s mind whirled. The invisible scars returned on her back as she felt the whip again.

  And again.

  ‘We need to prepare,’ Laurel said as she stared at the protection on Astrid’s damaged wrist. They’d dropped George and Annie close to an Agency safe house before picking up medical supplies from a pharmacy.

  ‘I’m always prepared.’ But she didn’t feel like it.

  ‘You need somebody to have a proper look at this.’

  Laurel had packed Astrid’s wrist as tightly as she could. They’d picked up a temporary plaster cast which was easy to apply. It gave her hand extra support.

  ‘No time.’ Astrid swallowed more painkillers. ‘We need to get to the park.’

  Her voice was high-pitched, her eyelids flickering at the same rate her lips trembled. Laurel slowed down as they came to a red light, the blazing neon a perfect symmetry to the frustration burning inside Astrid’s eyes.

  ‘Will she be there at this time of the day?’

  Laurel appeared as calm as Astrid was panicked. Astrid placed her hands on the dashboard, letting the cold of the plastic seep into her body.

  ‘You’re right; it’s too early for the nanny to have taken her to the park. We need to go somewhere else.’

  ‘Should we go to your sister’s place?’

  Astrid shook her head and sat back in the seat. ‘No; she won’t be there, either.’

  ‘Cara could be playing with you again.’

  ‘Of course she’s playing with me.’

  She spat the words out, her anger reaching a crescendo, knowing it was precisely what Cara wanted. She closed her eyes and attempted to control her breathing, focusing on Olivia’s face, telling herself how she’d sweep the child into her arms and tell Olivia who she was. She didn’t care how much her sister would protest. She peered into her mind and found all of her escape maps torn to shreds.

  ‘Where shall we go?’

  ‘Olivia won’t be at home. She should be at the nursery before the nanny goes to collect her.’

  It was a strange term to use: collect her. Astrid smiled inwardly, realising she’d slipped back into her traditional impersonal mode, changing Olivia into a thing, not a person. She was a target to be acquired, not somebody who needed saving. She felt good about it. It meant she was in control again, not blinded by emotions. She would be no help to Olivia or anybody else if she couldn’t separate her feelings from the job she had to do.

  They were fifteen minutes from the nursery, some posh building Courtney had decided was a better place for her daughter to spend those critical early years instead of with her parents. She found it ironic her sister had learnt nothing from her childhood. It was a torturous drive there as Astrid struggled to rein in her emotions.

  ‘She should be safe in the nursery,’ Laurel said. ‘All those places have added security now.’

  ‘I sent people to watch over Olivia.’ Suburban life trickled outside the window.

  Laurel seemed surprised. ‘How did you do that?’

  Astrid moved the fingertips of her damaged hand, cringing at the pain. ‘I did it at George’s house after Davis appeared. I used t
he laptop to contact someone I worked with a long time ago.’ She didn’t elaborate on who it was.

  ‘So, she should be safe.’

  ‘She better be.’

  ‘Who was it?’ Laurel drove across a roundabout and past a bunch of shops.

  ‘The leader of the gang,’ Astrid said vaguely. It didn’t take Laurel long to work out who she meant.

  ‘Ramon, your ex? The leader of the gang the Agency recruited you from.’ Astrid nodded, memories of their fractious relationship haunting her mind as the desperation of relying on him punched her hard in the gut. Ramon had blamed her for betraying him and the gang once she’d left prison and started her new life without them. ‘How do you know your message got through?’

  Outside the window, the adults and children moved in the opposite direction. The nursery had closed earlier than Astrid had expected. A sea of people came down the street in waves.

  ‘I don’t, which is why we need to get there now.’

  The nervous alarm rang through Astrid’s voice, all semblance of control vanishing once more. They were stuck at a crossing, watching children smiling and laughing as they moved from one side of the road to the other. It was another ten minutes before they got to the entrance of the nursery. She jumped from the car before Laurel could turn the engine off.

  ‘Wait for me,’ Laurel said.

  ‘Olivia Snow?’

  Astrid shouted at the teacher standing outside the entrance. Laurel wasn’t far behind. Astrid’s panic forced her to lunge at the woman. Laurel stepped between the two of them before Astrid could grab the teacher by the arms.

  The teacher gazed into Astrid’s bloodshot eyes. ‘She left early today. The nanny brought Olivia a treat.’

  ‘What type of treat?’

  ‘It was a special surprise, a first-time visit from one of her relatives.’

  She could only think of one person: her father. Lawrence, had taken Olivia away. An idea too terrible to contemplate crossed her mind as she thought of Cara and Lawrence working together to hurt her, and to hurt Olivia. Only the pain in her wrist stopped her legs from collapsing. Her voice shook like an ancient steam train crossing a wooden bridge.

  ‘Was it her grandfather?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Astrid relaxed with a massive sigh of relief. ‘It was her aunt.’

  The air froze around her. She held her breath, pulling her fingers so tightly into her palms, her skin started to bleed.

  ‘Which aunt was it?’

  ‘Why, it was Olivia’s Aunt Astrid; such a polite woman. Do you know her?’

  Astrid turned away before the question reached her, running as fast as she could, with the throbbing in her arm seeping into her whole body.

  32 Down in the Park

  ‘We need to get to the park.’

  Astrid sprinted to the car. Searing pain sped up her arm, jumping from her shoulder and straight between her eyes. Inside her head, it split into a thousand sharpened pieces and eviscerated the rescue map she’d devised for Olivia. Blood was in her mouth as she bit her tongue, the warm liquid dripping down her throat, but unable to fill the emptiness consuming her.

  Laurel shouted something to Astrid as she threw the door open and jumped into the car. Fear surged through her as she strapped herself into the passenger seat, and Laurel got behind the wheel. Cara was one step ahead of them again.

  ‘I’m sure she’s fine,’ Laurel said.

  The traffic was as slow getting to the park as it had been to the nursery. Astrid gripped the seat all the way there, her fingers turning a dark shade of apple red as a journey which should have taken ten minutes ended up lasting thirty. It was an eternity for her. A million terrible permutations swam through her head as a multitude of kids ran around outside.

  She stared hard at the children’s faces; so intent was her gaze that each one of the kids transformed into the image of Olivia, real-life shimmering into Astrid’s worst nightmare until dozens of duplicates of her niece ran on either side of the car. They tormented her with their wide mouths, expressive eyes and cheeky grins absorbed in laughter. She could take no more, closing her eyes in search of the comfort of the dark, but instead finding her internal gloom saturated with the vision of Cara Delaney placing a plastic bag over Olivia’s head.

  ‘This is my fault.’

  Astrid whispered into the hands scratching at her face. She snapped out of her nightmare as Laurel pulled the car up to the entrance to the park. Astrid was unmoving, eyes glued to the topiary which greeted them.

  Was it only a couple of weeks ago when I was here last?

  It appeared like another lifetime and another world away. She held on to the pain in her wrist and focused her mind.

  ‘You can’t blame yourself for this, Astrid.’

  But she did. ‘Only one thing matters, and that’s Olivia’s safety.’

  ‘Of course.’

  They stepped from the vehicle and moved through the park. Astrid flexed her fingers as she walked, ignoring the throbbing in her hand, kicking at stray lumps of grass and petrifying a Chihuahua which got too close. They strode past the pack of dog walkers congregating at the entrance and beyond the pair of ice cream vans competing for the families enjoying the last haze of summer. They kept going along the path running parallel to the lake until the suffragette statues and the playground appeared. The sky was overcast with the promise of rain, dark clouds lingering above and scaring most of the visitors away, leaving the area short of people. Discarded branches crunched underfoot as they entered the playground.

  ‘I thought you’d have been here sooner.’

  She heard the voice before she saw Cara, sitting in the middle of the swings as if she’d returned to a childhood she never had. Astrid ignored her and scanned the rest of the area. Olivia was nowhere in sight.

  ‘Where’s my niece?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Astrid, she’s safe. I brought some friends along to play with her.’

  Astrid held her breath when Olivia stepped from the shadows behind Cara. But she wasn’t alone. Holding on to her shoulders was someone she’d seen before in the same surroundings: the tattooed neo-Nazi she’d warned off so long ago. And he wasn’t alone, joined by four figures she didn’t recognise. They weren’t the lumbering drug addicts from before.

  On the right was a large man with an immense afro haircut obscuring the sun. His physique was impressive, like he couldn’t find any clothes to fit him, his shirt ready to burst if he moved too soon. On the left were two bald blokes who must have been twins considering they had the same piercing blue eyes and sculpted cheekbones. Between their laughter, they insulted her in German. The last of the quartet was a heavy-set man with outlandish eyebrows, manicured and cultivated to the point they were extra appendages on his body, stretching up and out from his forehead like mandibles on a peculiar insect.

  The fingers on her bad hand twitched. The pain was there, but the mobility had returned. Astrid knew there was no way for her to get to Olivia before the tattooed man could harm the kid.

  Laurel stood beside her. ‘Are these the ones you told me about?’

  Astrid never removed her focus from her niece as she spoke. ‘Just the one with Olivia; the others are new. How are your fighting skills?’

  ‘Don’t worry. I can handle myself.’

  The four thugs split into two pairs; one set moving towards Astrid, the others heading for Laurel. The tattooed man stood behind his minions. He grinned as he ran his fingers through Olivia’s hair. Astrid’s face turned red. Her eyes moved beyond him to see Cara pushing on the swings without a care in the world. One of the goons moved to Astrid’s side while the other headed straight for her, trying to outflank her and catch her in a pincer movement. Flexibility returned to her damaged wrist at the right time.

  ‘We have no interest in you,’ Laurel said behind her.

  Astrid admired her optimism while understanding the futility of it. She returned her focus to her situation, calculating when they’d move together. The one in front of
her couldn’t help himself, smiling at her with a full set of orange teeth. He was the decoy, the distraction, so the one to her left could move first, just a few seconds before orange teeth lunged at her. Aching jolts of electricity worked their way through her wrist and fingers. There was fear in the air. She was scared, but not for herself.

  His grin expanded as he crunched through dead wood, his arms reaching towards her as orange teeth sprang forward a split second later. She twisted her shoulder, so she faced the goon on her left, bringing her right arm up to grab him by his shirt and throw him into those grinning orange teeth. The pain in her wrist zipped up her arm as her two attackers smashed together. They hit the ground with a thud as Laurel punched one of her assailants in the face before the other one pushed her down and into the leaves. Astrid’s mind raced through her options: deal with her thugs; help Laurel; or run towards Olivia. The tattooed man held on to the kid’s shoulders. He could snap Olivia’s neck before she could get anywhere near him.

  Her choice was made for her when the afro man grabbed her leg, pulling Astrid towards him as he struggled to get upright. She shifted her body to kick him in the face with her free foot, crushing his jaw. The man with orange teeth was on the ground, holding on to his head when she stepped over to bring her foot into his groin and send his screams around the playground. She put him out of her mind, turning to see Laurel’s assailants out cold on the floor.

  Laurel stared at Cara Delaney.

  Astrid strode towards the rookie. Laurel was breathing hard, a fresh bruise on her right cheek, as Astrid spoke. ‘I guess you finished your training after all.’

  ‘What do we do about your niece?’

  Astrid switched her gaze from Cara and back to the tattooed man. She calculated on his wounded pride forcing him from Olivia and towards her.

  He was emotionless as he spoke.

  ‘Come here and kneel at my feet.’ His tone mocked her.

  ‘Your voice appears to have dropped since the last time we met. Is that because of the gentle kiss I gave you the other day?’