Miss No One

by Mark Ayre

  "Feel free to follow," Orion was saying, "but if you shoot, the girl dies."

  Orion was moving towards the exit. Abbie stepped to the frame of the door but not into the hall. Winston and Orion were at one end of the building; another unfriendly was at the other. They probably wouldn't shoot for fear of hitting one another, but Abbie couldn't risk it.

  Abbie listened as Winston left through one exit, followed by Orion and Isabella. Now Abbie did step into the hall and spun for Winston's man.

  He had his gun raised. They were in a stand-off, but Winston's man was retreating towards his exit. The guy didn't shoot but smiled, waved, and stepped outside.

  "Oh, no," said Ndidi.

  "It's not over yet," said Abbie. "Follow me."

  Rushing towards the exit just taken by Orion and Winston, Abbie barged through the external doors and stepped outside. By this point, the flaming engine of Evans' car was burning out. The smoke still billowed but was not quite so thick, so black, as once it had been.

  Still facing the building, Smoker (Winston) and Orion were edging backwards down a slope. A hundred metres away, Abbie could see two cars. She knew, if she allowed Isabella to disappear into one of those, it was game over. Orion and Winston would be gone, the child would die.

  Through the smoke, Winston's man appeared, having jogged the length of the building to rejoin his team.

  "I wouldn't come any further if I were you," said Winston to Abbie. "Bit of friendly advice."

  Winston's guy passed directly by Abbie and Ndidi. Twisting his head, he raised a hand, waved, and gave a nasty smile.

  Then, from somewhere nearby, there was a crack, and that nasty smile disappeared as its wearer's head popped like a blood-filled balloon.

  Winston was shouting.

  “No, no, no, you idiot. Be more careful. What the blazing hell was—“

  Another shot fired. Blood splashed from Winston’s head as he spun like a top and hit the ground.

  Eyes widening, Orion looked towards the watchtower. Then, grabbing Isabella like a rugby ball, he turned and bolted down the hill towards the cars.

  Xavier lay face down on the metal grate of the watchtower platform.

  A little earlier, before Evans' car had exploded, Moore had stepped from the control room and had inadvertently distracted Winston. While the two men conversed, Ana had released her seatbelt. Greedy gravity had clutched her as the harness whipped away and dragged her to the other side of the car with a thud.

  Already, Ana's body was racked with pain. Every movement was agony, but somehow, her determination to live overcame the pain, which might otherwise have been debilitating.

  As Moore and Winston argued, Ana had climbed through the shattered windscreen and, under cover of the smoke, sprinted away from the car.

  Which promptly exploded.

  Ana had made it far enough that she was struck by neither flames nor debris, but the shockwave still floored her.

  For what might have been seconds or hours, Ana lay in the grass, taking deep breaths, recovering.

  When she eventually sat, all she wanted was to lie back down or go home, but she couldn't. Winston was alive. So far as Ariana knew, so were the Beckers. Ana didn't know what state Abbie was in but her partner, her Holmes (was that right this time?), needed her help.

  Stumbling, staggering, she had crept towards the watchtower. On the way, she'd found something heavy and smooth. A huge pebble, if pebbles could be this big. With as much care as her injured form allowed, she had snuck up the watchtower steps towards her target.

  Earlier, Winston had focused on the wrong thing, allowing Ana to escape the car without getting a shotgun slug in the back. This time, Xavier was so focused on the exit from where he expected the enemy to spill that he didn't hear Ana’s approach until it was too late.

  Gun in hand, he spun as Ana brought the pebble crashing onto his skull.

  The rifleman went to his knees but wasn't out of action. Two more blows and he was unconscious on the watchtower floor, his blood seeping through the metal grate, dripping to the grass below.

  A month ago, Ana had tried to kill Abbie. Her determination to do so had led to the death of her boyfriend. Most people would probably count Gray, the boyfriend, as Ana's first murder, but Ana couldn't take credit. It had been an accident.

  She didn't know if Xavier was her first murder because she hadn't checked for a pulse. If it wasn't him, it was most certainly Victor.

  The smoke was already thinning as Ana took up the rifle. She heard Winston's radio transmission and was glad he didn't ask for Xavier's input. When the boss raised his hand in salute, Ana considered shooting, but she wasn't ready. The glass from the windscreen had cut her palms, and she was bleeding all over the gun, making the grip slick and hard to hold. The pain in her back flared up when she leaned in to put her eye against the rifle's scope, and her vision was still a little blurry.

  Forcing herself to take deep breaths, Ana kept her eye against the scope and watched as Winston disappeared into the building. A minute or so later, he reappeared. Ana had hoped, when he reemerged, she would be able to end his life. No such luck. Seconds after he left the building, Orion appeared. The two men remained close together, and Orion held the child. Ana had never fired any kind of gun, and while it seemed simple enough in practice, Isabella's proximity to Orion and Winston made Ana beyond nervous.

  The building's second exterior door opened, and Victor exited into the night.

  This was a more promising opportunity.

  Spinning the gun, almost letting it slide through bloodied hands as she did, Ana located Victor with the scope. She wanted to take him out ASAP but, by this point, he was jogging. She tracked his progress down the building's length as best she could but knew she stood next to no chance of hitting him while he moved at his current speed.

  The smoke billowed around Victor as he progressed, but by this point, it had thinned enough that Ana didn't lose him.

  When the crook reached the opposite end of the tube-shaped building, he slowed. Through the scope, Ana watched him raise a hand in a wave to someone out of sight and knew she would never get a better chance.

  She pulled the trigger.

  Her body was still shaking, her vision was blurred. Luck more than impressive marksmanship carried the bullet through Victor's skull, ending his life.

  Ana had managed to convince herself she hadn't killed her boyfriend. Until she checked for a pulse, Xavier may well be alive.

  There was no chance with Victor. Ana was officially a murderer.

  She felt funny inside. It was as though a strange hollow spot had opened and was sucking everything around it in. Victor was undoubtedly a nasty person, and Ana's shot might save Abbie's life. Regardless, she felt a tear run down her cheek.

  Abbie had been right. Falling from her mother's balcony into the sea, almost drowning after being dragged down by her boyfriend—all of this had changed Ana. She was not the same person as a month ago.

  Aurora, her little sister, her sleeping beauty, would have been proud.

  But today, she couldn't let emotion defeat her. Winston was bellowing. Ana could hear him all the way over at the tower.

  She swung the rifle around. The smoke remained an annoying impediment, but it hadn't stopped her finding and aiming for Victor. It didn't stop her from finding Winston either. She got his head in her sights, took a deep breath, and fired.

  He moved at the last second, but she still saw him spin and go down. There was plenty of blood, so she guessed she'd done enough even if she hadn't quite hit the bullseye.

  Two murders. By now, Ana's hands were trembling so much the rifle rattled against the watchtower's metal railing. She forced herself to take three more calming breaths, then searched for Orion.

  He was gone. After Winston dropped, he'd spun and hightailed it. With the rifle scope, Ana managed to find him again, but there was no way she could take a shot. This wasn't a long-range sniper. Every step Orion took, it became less and less li
kely a good marksman could hit him, let alone a novice. Besides, with the child at his side, there was no way Ana could risk it.

  Spinning the rifle, she saw Abbie and Ndidi chasing down the slope after Orion. It was up to them now.

  She stood straight, took another breath and looked across the field of battle. She saw the unconscious police detective, the flaming car wreck, the dead Victor.

  Her eyes scanned the grass. It took her a couple of seconds to realise what she didn't see.

  Darting forward, she put her eyes to the scope and scanned for the location where Winston had dropped.

  Soon enough, she found it, but he wasn't there. All that remained was the blood in the grass from where she'd hit him.

  And not well enough, by the looks.

  Moving away from the rifle, she bit her lip—a nervous habit. Abbie thought Winston was out of the picture, but he had to be chasing down the slope after them even now.

  That was what Ana thought.

  Then she heard boots clanging on the watchtower's metal steps as someone ascended towards her level.

  Forty-One

  The plan had been months in the making.

  Longer even than Abbie had imagined. When news of the police raid reached Orion and his mother, when they learned Quintus was dead and Rachel incarcerated, mother had taken a long calming breath and turned to Orion, her eldest child.

  "We avenge your brother and free your sister. Nothing else matters until that's done."

  The planning had started at once. Orion had taken charge of freeing Rachel, even before they knew to which prison she would be sent, even before she had been declared guilty by a jury of her peers. The Beckers could afford the best lawyers in the land, but the evidence against Rachel was insurmountable. She was always going to be found guilty and sentenced to decades in prison. It was unavoidable.

  Orion might have considered getting to her at trial, but then everything had changed. His mother had been killed avenging Quintus' death, and the police, tasting blood, had redoubled their efforts to capture Orion. He was forced underground. It was far too hot to consider freeing Rachel for at least the next few months.

  But he never stopped planning. He grieved for his mother and brother, but, if he was honest, this was the way he would have chosen the chips to fall if someone told him two of his family members had to die, with the other imprisoned. Abbie had been right to call out what a family unit the Beckers were, and Orion loved each of the three others deeply. But his mother could be strict and frightening. Quintus, six years younger than Orion, was impetuous and often immature. It had not surprised Orion to learn that while Rachel had sensed the futility of fighting and given herself up during the raid, Quintus had got himself killed trying to escape.

  Rachel had been only eighteen months younger than Orion, and they had always been incredibly close. He would have given anything to save her. And he had put everything into freeing her.

  It had all seemed to be running so smoothly. Orion had the owners of Lucky Draw on side. He had the corrupt police, including, notably, DCI Hammond. Everything was ready. Then Hammond died, and Orion had to find a plan B. Fine. He intended to blackmail Ndidi, but when that fell through, Orion was ready to pivot. The kidnapping had been easy, and with it, the eldest Becker child had achieved his aims.

  Not to sound like a Scoobie Doo villain, but he would have succeeded, too, if not for that pesky Abbie King.

  Now he ran, the cumbersome kid under his arm, fleeing Abbie and the girl's father. Abbie was right to claim he had nothing left to live for. Rachel was dead. It was over for him, but he couldn't stop. He had to get away, and if he couldn't get away, he had to kill Abbie.

  He had his gun in his free hand. As he ran, he twisted and fired. Every second, he grew closer to the cars and to escape. If he got either vehicle started before Abbie put a bullet in him, Orion was sure he'd get away.

  He fired again. Then reached the car. At the bonnet, he spun, fired thrice more.

  There was a roar of pain, and Ndidi went down. Good.

  Isabella screamed. For hours she had barely shown a hint of emotion, but at the cry from her father, she went crazy, lashing out, screaming, flailing her fists and arms.

  Bb y chance, she caught Orion in the knee then the groin. Reflexively, Becker released the girl, and she hit the ground. He scooped to grab her, but Isabella was already sprinting towards her father.

  There went his human shield.

  Ndidi was down, but Abbie hadn't stopped. From her sprint, she slowed to a quick walk; both hands raised, holding her gun.

  Orion watched Abbie pull the trigger. Moore’s car windscreen exploded.

  Ducking between the vehicles as a second shot destroyed a wing mirror, Orion grabbed the driver side door handle of Winston's SUV and yanked.

  Nothing happened.

  The car was locked. Of course it was. Both vehicles were. Orion went to his jacket with desperate, scrambling hands, searching for either set of keys. He found nothing. Now he remembered Rachel pocketing Moore’s keys while Winston had never relinquished his set.

  Orion was alone. And he wasn't going anywhere.

  Another bullet smashed the passenger side window above his head. Ducking again, he scrambled to the back of the cars as Abbie closed in.

  Orion checked for a spare magazine but couldn't find one. Ejecting the current clip, Orion found it empty. All that remained was the shot in the chamber and the short but sharp blade in his jacket.

  The odds weren't good. Orion might get one chance.

  Abbie came closer.

  Orion moved around the car. It was just her and him now.

  If Orion was going to die, he was for damn sure taking her with him.

  Ana's bones still ached, and her skin felt raw. Her vision went from clear to blurred and back again on a loop, and she was dizzy. Though she was weakened by her various ailments, she lifted the rifle from where it rested on the platform's railing and staggered back towards the corner of the watchtower opposite where Winston would soon emerge.

  The clanging of boots stopped. Through the grate at Ana's feet, she could see the shape of the man hovering on the steps. If he rose a couple more, his head would appear, and Ana could take a shot. The question was, would he take the risk? She doubted it. Why bother when he could fire the spray of his shotgun through the grated floor of the platform and cut her to ribbons. Ana could try the same, shooting down towards Winston, but she would have to be more accurate with her shots. The rifles bullets didn't have anywhere near the spread of the shotgun slugs.

  Then there was her strength to factor in. It flooded from her legs, and she sank to her behind. Leaning into the crux of the railings in her corner, she propped the rifle in her lap and tried to take calming, strengthening breaths. She wasn't sure either effect was achieved.

  Below and across from her, on the steps, she saw the shape of Winston shift. Saw what had to be his hands move as he aimed what had to be his shotgun in Ana's general direction.

  "You're a clever girl," said Winston from beneath her with that smoke affected voice. "Made me think if was Abbie in the car. Wouldn't have thought it was you, would we? Because Ndidi killed you back at the flat."

  Ana didn't respond. Although the rifle was propped on her lap, it was still becoming too much. She could feel it slipping. Realising she wasn't going to kill Winston with it, she let it go, keeping her hands on the stock and handle as it went, so it made as little noise as possible as it came to rest on the platform.

  "Amount of bullets I've sent in the direction of your friend," Winston was saying. "Then there's you, escaping exploding vehicles and surviving shots to the head... maybe you girls are immortal. Maybe I'm wasting my time."

  Without the load of the rifle in her hands, Ana could gather a little more strength. Having fallen onto her behind, she had crossed her legs like a schoolgirl in the classroom. Now she pushed herself onto her knees, with her feet up and her toes slotted into the holes of the platform grating.


  This was all for nothing. Ana couldn't escape Winston.

  "You mute, girl?" Winston asked. "Maybe you know I wouldn't take your word for it, even if you said you was immortal. You know I'd need to check for myself."

  Ana watched the gun rise. She pushed her feet into the grate and moved her legs, diving into a half jump, half roll across the platform.

  The shotgun cannoned, and Ana couldn't help but cry out as she heard the spray rattle across the underside of the grating. Many fragments passed through and disappeared into the sky.

  But nothing hit Ana.

  The shotgun blast had been deafening. Ana's eyes were ringing again, so she realised too late that Winston hadn't waited. He was rising the last few steps onto the watchtower platform.

  Ana's jump-roll had landed her inches from the possibly dead Xavier. Knowing it was her last chance, she shoved her hand into his jacket on both sides, searching for a gun.

  But there was no firearm to be found.

  Ana retracted her hands and shoved herself back onto her knees as the armed Winston stepped onto the platform.

  When Ana had fired the rifle at Winston, she'd been aiming between his eyes. His last-second move saved his life, but the bullet had still done some damage. The spray of blood Ana had seen came when the round whizzed past Winston's skull but ripped his ear to shreds.

  Now he stood opposite her, blood caking his face and shirt, one ear missing, a gash across his head where it had been. It was horrifying—like a horror movie serial killer.

  His eyes were deranged.

  He clutched his shotgun too tight.

  "Okay," he said. "Final immortality test. Let's see what you got."

  Ana knew what she had.

  One last chance.

  Winston racked the shotgun and swung it around.

  Ana was already moving. She charged from her kneeling position, defying the ability of her damaged body as she sprinted across the platform, arms outstretched.