by R. D. Ronald
Angela was two steps ahead of Scott and she snatched up Jeff’s keys for the lock on the workshop. Scott followed her out back, fighting the rising panic in his chest he wedged the revolver down into the back of his pants. Trying not to obey the urge he felt to go back to help Jeff, that he knew even with the gun would be useless. Angela’s natural athleticism had gained her even more ground and she was already at the door to the workshop, fumbling with the keys to open the lock. Scott picked up his pace before hearing a shout that froze the blood in his veins, almost causing him to fall.
‘Hey, stop that fucking bitch.’
It was McBlane, he’d come along for the ride which meant he’d have recognised Jeff immediately, leaving Jeff naively answering their questions, unaware of who else was on the other side of the glass.
Angela found the correct key and released the padlock. Scott forced all of his weight against the sliding door which creaked and screeched on its warped and rusted runner.
‘Quickly Scott, please,’ Angela begged, her voice betrayed a panic that he was fighting to control in himself.
‘There must be grit jammed in it.’
The door runner protested another screech of grinding metal but opened far enough for them to squeeze through. Once inside Scott threw his weight against the frame again forcing it closed and thrust the inside bolt into place.
‘That won’t hold them for long,’ he said running to the hatch in the corner.
Scott dropped to his knees and pulled open the drawer in the workbench where Jeff kept the tool to open the manhole.
‘Shit, it’s not here,’ Scott cried, frantically pulling out the other drawers, scattering their contents across the concrete floor.
They both looked up as a heavy smash echoed around the walls of the workshop from something being brought down hard against the door outside.
‘Jesus, Scott hurry,’ Angela said, her voice cracking under the pressure.
Scott pulled out the last wooden drawer and saw what he’d been looking for. Snatching up the curved piece of metal he thrust it into the small hole in the manhole cover and turned it ninety degrees.
‘Get in,’ he cried to Angela, straining as he lifted up the thick iron cover to allow their escape. A steady hum of strong electrical current emitted from the gloom below them.
‘Shit, it’s dark I can’t see. Where’s the light?’
‘There’s no time. There’s a ladder below, just get in.’
Angela steadied a hand on either side of the hole, lowered herself down and dropped into the darkness. A muffled cry echoed upwards that Scott hoped was only the result of shock at what sounded like her failing to grab the ladder. He swung his legs over the edge and reached out with precision into the gaping blackness and immediately snapped on the lights. Angela sat on the floor below, one leg sprawled in front of her, the other pulled up towards her chest, cradling her ankle between both hands.
‘Find the key to open the door,’ he said, lowering himself down and dropping the backpack to the ground below, and began closing the cover after him.
A splintering crash was heard as the workshop door gave way just as Scott settled the cover into place. He slid across a small iron bolt, the only thing that now stood between them and their pursuers. He dropped to the floor beside Angela and helped her struggle to her feet.
‘I’ve hurt my ankle.’
‘I can see that, but once we’re in the cave we should be OK. This next door will hold them off, we’re nearly there.’
She pulled out the keys again, which jangled on the chain in a parody of their nervousness. A clang rang out above them as something metal was forced against the manhole to try and prise it open. Angela steadied her breathing, jabbed what she hoped was the correct key into the hole pointed at by Scott, and turned. The lock released and she hurriedly swung open the heavy door. Taking hold of the ladder behind him, Scott climbed a few rungs then swung out and kicked at the light bulb. It exploded sending shards of glass and sparks in an arc over Scott’s legs and down onto the floor beneath, plunging the room into darkness.
‘That should slow them down,’ Scott said and dropped down, crushing splintered shards of broken glass, and followed Angela into the cave.
‘It’d take them forever to get through that door,’ Scott said, bent over, hands planted on his thighs, and took a couple of deep breaths.
Angela was leant up against one of the walls rubbing tenderly at her ankle.
‘Do you think you can walk on it?’ Scott asked.
‘I’ll manage,’ she said, tentatively putting weight back onto it, and winced. ‘As long as we don’t have to run.’
‘We won’t be running but you may have to climb, come on, there’s another way out.’
Supporting Angela’s weight with an arm around her waist and the backpack slung over his shoulder, Scott helped her hobble down through the cave towards Jeff’s escape hatch at the other end. Rows of cloned cannabis plants stood proudly, ready to be repotted for the second crop they were about to embark on. Scott shook his head remorsefully at what he had brought down on Jeff. He had nothing to do with Scott’s troubles, and who knew what condition he might now be in.
The door to the main growing chamber had been left open after they had harvested the last crop of cannabis buds, with just a few bulbs left on to illuminate the long space. Drifts of rotting leaves yet to be cleared away lay on the floor; Scott kicked them aside for Angela to make her way through.
He opened the final door into the small living quarters and eased Angela down into a chair while he opened up the hatch to their exit.
‘You think you can make it?’ he asked her, pointing upwards.
‘Yeah, it might take me a while but I can do it,’ she said and tried to smile reassuringly.
Scott sat with Angela while she rested a moment before he began the climb up to the surface. No lights had been installed in the upward tunnel. Probably Jeff had thought he would never have needed to use it, so Scott used the sparse illumination from his phone to navigate the rungs. A single bolt was in place at the top which Scott slid back and pushed the hatch to open it outwards. Nothing, it didn’t move an inch.
Shit, Scott thought to himself, surely there couldn’t be a lock on the other side, what the hell would have been the point in that? He pushed again, harder this time, and felt the hatch ease up a couple of inches. Scott relaxed and breathed out. Placing his shoulder against the hatch he moved his feet a rung higher on the ladder, took a deep breath and, planting his feet firmly onto the rung, heaved upwards, this time using the strength in his back and legs to force open their escape route.
The hatch fell outwards with a heavy crack of stone on stone. The ladder Scott had pushed against felt like it had also moved a little under his exertion. Dappled sunlight fell through the branches above, penetrating cautiously into the darkness of the hatch. Scott made a thumbs up gesture in case Angela could make out the silhouette from below.
‘Scott, shall I start climbing up?’ Angela’s voice echoed up to him.
He looked down and could just see Angela edging up the first few rungs, obviously eager to get out of what was once his workplace but now felt like a giant tomb. He poked his head above ground and after a cursory glance around, seeing nothing but the forest he shouted down for her to carefully make her way up.
Scott examined the rivets that fixed the ladder against the stone wall and saw small cracks running outwards from both of them, like lenses in broken spectacles.
Angela pushed up a rung at a time with her good foot, then supporting her weight by gripping either side of the ladder, brought her other foot up to the next rung and then pushed again. Scott climbed out completely and dropped the backpack onto the grass, allowing more light to penetrate the tube and aid Angela’s ascent.
There were no landmarks at all to gauge their current location by, but judging from the gradient of the slope Scott guessed they were around 500 yards North East of the main house. He listened for sounds of
anyone moving through the woods or any vehicles but heard nothing other than the wind caressing the pine branches above him.
He saw the reason the hatch had been so hard to open. Jeff had cunningly sawn through a rock and secured it to the hatch lid with steel bolts, so if anyone had ever happened to pass by, nothing would have looked untoward. Just another rock sticking out of the ground. The upturned hatch lid now lay against a pile of other boulders a few feet further down the slope.
Angela had made progress when Scott looked back over the edge, and was now almost to the surface. He reached in an arm and took hold of her, helping her up the last few feet.
‘Is there any sign of them?’ she asked, cautiously looking around.
‘No, nothing, I haven’t heard anything either. Maybe they just gave up and left,’ Scott said, hoping the words sounded more convincing to Angela’s ears than they had felt on his lips.
‘What do we do now then?’ she asked, looking up at him, still rubbing her swollen ankle.
‘We make our way down to the village, hope the car is there and come back for Jeff.’
‘We should phone for an ambulance. What if he’s seriously hurt?’
‘If an ambulance turns up for him here there’ll be an investigation into what happened and they’ll find everything; Jeff will be fucked, he’ll get years and years for what’s up here. Besides, you won’t get a signal until we get further down the mountain anyway.’
‘But what if the car isn’t ready and we have no way to make it back up here other than on foot? A delay like that could be crucial. What if...?’ Angela’s words tapered off into deep sobs, her bottom lip quivering she held her face in her hands.
‘You’re right, we can’t wait but we can’t phone an ambulance, not just yet,’ Scott said, trying to think of a solution. ‘You take the bag and make your way down to the village as best you can. I’ll head back around towards the house and see if they’ve gone. If I can get Jeff and his car then I’ll meet you down there and we’ll take him to a hospital ourselves.’
‘But what if they’re still there Scott and they see you?’ Angela said, looking up at him still, struggling to control her sobs.
‘I’ll be careful, if they are there and there’s nothing I can do then I’ll head straight down to the village and meet you and call an ambulance for Jeff on the way.’
Reluctantly Angela agreed and Scott helped her to her feet. She shouldered the backpack and carefully began to limp over the frozen ground in the direction of the village. Scott watched her for a few seconds until he was confident she’d be able to manage, before he set off back towards the house. Stepping as lightly as he could to make no noise, Scott followed a route back that would afford him the most cover in case anyone was still back at the house.
He rounded a curve on the mountain slope and the Eastern side of the house came into view. From this angle he was unable to see if the van that McBlane had arrived in was still parked nearby, as the driveway lay on the opposite side of the property. Staying as low to the ground as he could, Scott continued towards the house but quickened his pace into a run. Back to the wall he edged along towards the rear of the property. If there was any activity near the workshop or where the van had been then this would give him the best vantage point to observe without being seen.
Scott was immensely conscious of the bulk of the revolver pressed into the small of his back. All heat from his body seemed to be drawn out by it, leaving his teeth chattering and his fingers trembling. He skirted around the wooden bench and piles of logs Jeff used for firewood and surveyed the area at the back of the house. The sliding door to the workshop stood open by about two feet but he could see nothing inside. Even straining, Scott could hear no sounds of movement either inside or out. His hand moved instinctively to the gun wedged in his waistband and he walked further around the house. Jeff’s car was still parked in its usual spot. Scott hurried towards it. Ducking down behind the driver’s side door he risked a quick glance over the bonnet. The van had gone. Acutely aware of a possible threat from one of them lurking in the unlit workshop for his return, Scott stayed clear of the doorway and moved down the driveway looking for Jeff.
A small pool of blood and Jeff’s broken glasses marked the spot on the frosted driveway where Scott had seen him go down. He broke into a run and as he got closer saw what appeared to be drag marks leading away and up towards the house. Scott pulled out the revolver and held it unsteadily in both hands. He used the cluster of eucalyptus bushes for cover, cocked the gun the way Jeff had insisted on showing him one afternoon, and stepped out allowing the doorway to come into view. Jeff lay unmoving on the stairs. Scott dropped the gun and ran blindly to him, forgetting about the possible danger that might lie within the house.
Blood was matted down the front of Jeff’s sweater and had stained his beard red. After seeing what they had done to Twinkle that night in the flat, Scott’s heart twisted in his chest as he approached his friend, already fearing the worst.
‘Jeff,’ Scott whispered as he knelt down beside him.
A low gurgling sound came from Jeff and one eyelid flickered open.
‘Shhcott,’ he lisped through swollen lips that were caked with blood, and although they hadn’t moved much Scott had seen gaps where teeth used to be.
‘Take it easy,’ Scott said and glanced up to the living room window beside them. The front door frame was splintered and cracked down one side where the door had been kicked inwards from their forced entry. ‘Are there any inside?’ he asked Jeff, without looking away from the window.
‘No,’ Jeff answered and winced, ‘all three left in the van. Angela?’
‘She’s OK, she’s waiting for us down at the village. I told her I’d meet her there after I made sure you were OK. How bad are you hurt, do you think you can get up?’
Jeff held out a hand for Scott to take hold of and help him to his feet. Gripping the hand, and with an arm secured around Jeff’s back to support him, he slowly levered him into a kneeling, and then almost standing, position. Jeff leaned heavily against the wall of the house, his breath coming in short painful bursts from the exertion. The left side of his face was badly swollen and the eye closed. The beginning of a bruise formed beneath the damaged flesh. Scott immediately thought back to Stephanie lying in the hospital bed and wondered for the first time if the events were somehow linked. Jeff’s right hand clutched protectively against the left hand side of his ribcage.
‘Any broken?’ Scott asked. Jeff nodded confirmation. ‘Anything else?’
‘I don’t think so. Get the keys for my car from inside, we should leave.’
Scott pushed open what was left of the ruined door and walked through to the kitchen where Jeff kept his keys. The house was in utter disarray. Drawers had their contents tipped out, anything that had been on a surface looked to have been hurled at the walls in wanton destruction. Whether they had been looking for anything Scott didn’t know, but the message they’d left behind was clear, they weren’t finished with him yet. Scott found the keys by sifting through the mess of broken crockery and food that lay across the kitchen floor and returned out front to where Jeff still stood slumped against the wall.
‘I’ve got the keys,’ Scott said bouncing them in the palm of his hand.
‘Any sign of the dog?’
Scott faltered, he’d forgotten all about Boris during the chaos of the last hour.
‘He ran out back with me and Angela but not to the workshop. He must’ve gone off into the woods.’
‘Yeah, probably. He’ll be back.’
‘He might not be the only one though, let’s go.’
Scott helped Jeff down the steps and picked up the gun he’d dropped earlier before they slowly walked around the house to Jeff’s Toyota. He opened a rear door and did his best to manoeuvre Jeff onto the back seat. Jeff grunted at each push or pull from Scott to help him along, and was visibly pained even from the effort of breathing; finally managing to find a position that would make travell
ing in the car at least bearable. Scott climbed in front and started the engine.
The drive down to Bloody Bush was frustratingly drawn out. The condition of the road surface meant Scott had to take every care to avoid any pot holes that caused the pain from Jeff’s ribs to flare. Even on relatively smooth patches, any gentle movement of the vehicle would register as a grimace across his face. Scott kept checking but his phone was still without signal. Even travelling on her damaged ankle, Angela should have reached the village and would be waiting for them inside The Boar, or at Maurice’s store. Scott was eager to let her know that Jeff was OK and that they were on their way. By now she’d be frantic with worry.
They rounded the last curve, the end of the driveway now almost in sight. Once they reached smoother road surface Scott knew he would be able to pick up speed. The ivy clad archway lay in front of them now but something hung suspended in the centre. Scott kept going, at first unsure exactly what he was looking at. It was Jeff who first broke the silence.
‘Oh no – no, they didn’t.’
Scott pulled up and got out of the car. He walked slowly towards the still twitching corpse of Boris, swinging by what looked to be electrical cable that had been looped around his neck in a makeshift noose and fastened onto the wooden trellis above. Supporting the dog’s weight as best he could, Scott raised him up, slackening the tightness of the cable around his neck, allowing Scott to loosen it and slip it back over the dog’s head.
He carried the dead animal to the side of the road and lay him carefully down behind a tree. Scott ran a hand over his face, wiping away tears. There was nothing he could do for Boris now. He silently vowed to come back and give him a proper burial, and make them pay for what they’d done.
