|
|
Post by Melissa Kane on Jul 27, 2009 17:40:54 GMT
And Then What? Chapter Eleven
George had devoted what he assumed to be the time after the evening meal to planning his escape. As he'd sat drawing out plans and writing things down in the damaged notepad with the only pen of the three he'd discovered that actually worked, things kept coming back to him. Every memory would momentarily stop him in his tracks so his plan was slow in coming.
He frowned as he bought Mitchell's heartfelt assertions about the House and Annie when he was “leaving” to the fore. Then, further back in time, he re-heard Mitchell telling him that the curse of his condition was the crippling fear of losing everything. Annie's heartbroken lamentation about being stuck with him in those first few torrid months while Owen had the orange girl, Janey. Of course their opinions of each other had changed drastically over time but the anguished bile in her tone right there and then still stung even though the comforting moment they shared after had assuaged some of the hurt feelings. He recalled, in part, the passage from the Bible that his new friend Mark had quoted for him and in defence of Mitchell. However his heart gave the most terrible twist when his memories alighted on Nina and something she had once said in the heat of the moment. It came to him, entirely unbidden, and hit home. She had told him that she would have listened, long after he had pushed everyone in his life away. He looked up, watching the others doing nothing much except stagnating in this prison. Christ, was that what he was doing? Was he pushing away the people who most understood and could sympathise? The people who could help and who he could possibly help in return. If, if he could help them escape, set them free... he let out a small frustrated whine of indecision. Did they want to be free and submit to helping in the escape attempt? Or if he invited them, would they betray him to their captors and have his plans cut short?
Hauling himself to his feet, George slid the pen and paper into his jeans pocket and resolved to take a huge risk and follow his instincts instead of his logic for once. He had to approach them and try to... this was no worse than Annie's standing up to Owen. He had to try. “Shhh....” He shook himself down nervously. Butterflies erupted in his stomach and his legs felt weak. “Get a grip!” He hissed at himself harshly. “They're only werewolves. Just like you.” With a steely nod and a sharp intake of breath, George left the office and approached the others who were all languishing in their respective nests with the exception of young Aleks who was getting a drink from the water trough.
As he came to a stop in the relative centre of the gathering, heart pounding and nerves jangling, everyone looked up. Emotions were mixed. Luke was afraid, Daniel curious, Zhen and Kelvin both surprised and Yuri expressionless. Tully, however, gave George a small smile and an encouraging nod as if he knew what his creation was about to do. Who knew, maybe he did.
George crouched, turning as he did so that he was able to see everyone. “Do, do you want to remain here like, like, like animals in a zoo? Maybe for the rest of your lives?” He looked at the faces around him. Aleks came back and sat with Yuri, curiosity on his face. “We're not animals. We...” He paused, his thoughts descending into turmoil momentarily. When he continued, it was with conviction. “We are people. We don't deserve to live in a squalid little hovel.” He indicated around himself. “We are... we're not... we might be a lot of things, we might be the most reviled of God's creations and hated by most other supernaturals, but we're... we can still... we can...”
“Live.” Tully added, his rough tone was soft and acquiescent. George half turned and nodded gratefully to him.
His hesitant way of speaking fell away, his voice became stronger and more emphatic. “We can still live. I have a life outside these walls. I have friends. I have a home. I have...” He faltered and his heart sank. “I mean I had a girlfriend. All I want is...”
“To get back to it, huh?” Yuri broke in stridently.
The big Russian man caught him off guard. “That, that, that too, yes. But I was going to say, all I want is for you all to have that same chance. To have a shot at happiness, to be a part of the world instead of apart from it.” He shook his head. “This isn't the worst place in the world, I grant you, but what if you could be a pack, like you are now, but out there? Where there's fresh air, trees, birds, sunshine... people.”
Luke spoke up awkwardly but spiritedly. “Them people hate us. They'll get a mob together and lynch the lot of us.”
George faced him, leaning a little forward while Luke leaned back. “Maybe. Or maybe if you give them a chance they'll prove to be better than you think.” He suggested earnestly, his hands pressed quickly together almost as if in prayer and flicking toward Luke emphatically. He continued softly and remarkably evenly given the tumult of emotions he was experiencing. “We're sometimes too quick to judge.” At this he slid a vaguely apologetic glance at Tully.
“And sometimes not.” Tully replied, getting to his feet. “Look, George is right. We don't have to live like this. Like animals.”
George didn't even attempt to conceal his amazement at this unexpected back-up. Everyone else was staring at Tully like he'd lost his mind. All except Yuri who rather looked like he was about to explode in a rage. George tensed, expecting a battle of either physical or mental means. “Yes.” Then, more vehemently. “Yes. Tully's right. We might be a lot of things, but we aren't animals. Well, we aren't only animals” He amended quickly, the words tripping over themselves as he attempted to explain himself clearly.” The thing is in here, there is no freedom, there is no life, there's nothing but a basic existence.” George sighed voluminously, sensing he'd lost any potential advantage he might have had the longer he talked. He recommenced in a defeated manner, eyes fixed on the ground. “We're all different, but the one thing we all seem to agree on is that we don't want to hurt others with this. And maybe there are things we want to set right? I know I have.” His hands, clasped together between his knees as he crouched balancing on his toes, shook emotionally. “I'm planning to escape. Anyone who wants to join me is more than welcome.” George stood and left the gathering with a nod at Tully. He was giving no-one a chance to respond.
*****
“So, how do we find her?” Annie asked as Mitchell pulled on his leather jacket.
“Well, we can start at the old haunts.” Mitchell offered a smile at his choice of words, a smile which Annie returned with a tolerant roll of her eyes. “I know most of the places vampires will go, I mean. We can try them.” Mitchell thrust the keys into the pocket of his jacket – and took a surprised inward breath.
“What's wrong?”
Mitchell frowned as he withdrew his hand, artfully leaving the keys inside his pocket as he brought out the object that caught his attention. The tip of his index finger had a small bubble of blood there and as he uncurled his hand, there sat a large, broken werewolf claw. Both the humour and surprise faded. They'd both forgotten that. Rolling the claw into his other palm, Mitchell began suckling at the small spot of blood for a moment. Annie took the item up and holding it gingerly between her thumb and forefinger, she took it to the small box on the bookshelf and placed it inside. Mitchell did his best to hide his surprise that she knew about the box.
“Its part of him.” Annie said, as if she needed to clarify her action as she misinterpreted his glance.
“It won't harm to look for both of them, eh?” He suggested to a vigorous and determined nod from Annie. “Come on then, lets go. But, um, leave me to do the talking, huh?
“Why?” Annie half-demanded as they left.
“'Cause...”
“Wooohoo, hold on there, love. Oh, hello.” The little old lady trotted over to them, as sprightly as you like, to their doorstep as she greeted them both. In a small plastic plant pot, she held a small green stem with hundreds of tiny buds all clamouring for room near the pointed tip. “A little friend for your belami. So he won't get lonely. My Alf bought him for me but I had to tell him. 'No, Alf dear', I said, 'he's not a rose. He's from the aconitum family'. Monkshood.” The old lady beamed as Annie took the small pot in her hands. Their fingers briefly connected. “Oh, you poor lamb, you're as cold as ice. Well, this nice weather will warm you right up. Going for a walk, are you? Well, I won't keep you. I thought you'd like him, though. He'll be very pretty when he grows up, but not pretty enough to make your belami jealous.”
“Thankyou.” Annie called out bemusedly as the little grey-haired bontanical tornado swept back off to her house across the street. “Just a minute.” She said apologetically and scurried into the house. She returned a few minutes later, closed the door as Mitchell regarded her quizzically. “She thinks I'm really into plants.” Annie said by way of explanation. She smiled and shrugged. “I couldn't say no. It wouldn't've been polite. Besides, she's a sweet little old lady.” She set off walking then stopped. “Where are we going again?”
Mitchell, still standing at the door, grinned and pointed in the opposite direction, toward the Shakespeare. “This way.”
*****
The shadow fell over him as George was crouched, tying the laces of his trainers. Looking up slowly, the intimidating frame of Yuri came into focus. “Um, hi.” He greeted as neutrally as possible. This situation was anything but good as Yuri laid a big, callussed hand on George's shoulder as he made to stand up. The fingers tightened, but not as harshly as he'd anticipated.
“So you are determine to leave?” Yuri asked. There was a strange note to Yuri's speech. He didn't sound angry, not exactly happy either. He sounded, well, sad.
George nodded awkwardly, getting a slight ache in his neck from looking up so far and the half crouch already hurting his lower back, and made his reply as confident as he could. “Its something I have to do. I don't belong here. Its a prison with... slightly larger cells.”
Yuri removed his hand but did not move as George stood up with a relieved sigh. Now nose to chest with Yuri, he could say his piece a little better. “I ask only one thing.” Yuri said before George could speak. “Giorgi, take Aleks with you. He is only child. He must learn more than just this.”
George blinked a couple of times, then frowned, not quite sure what he'd just heard. “Ex... excuse me?”
“Aleks. He needs a guide. He must see the world. You are, I think, perfect guardian for him.” Yuri smiled though the large expanse of beard. “I have push you and you still push back. You have not roll over to play dead. You do not pretend by their rules.” He patted George's shoulder and nearly buckled the smaller man's legs in the process.
George was speechless, not even a half-formed thought made it to his lips. He had thought Yuri was dangerous but he had only been looking out for the pack. Touched and feeling guilty about his misjudgement of the big man, George swallowed convulsively. Yuri was apparently suggesting that he knew how bad the place was but needed the right person to lead them. What the hell would make the Russian believe he, of all people, was right for this? No, his own safety he would gamble with, but not the well being of others, especially that of the little boy. He couldn't do that. People who relied on him tended to be heartily disappointed at best. “We can... we can all go. They won't be able to stop us is we work together.” He suggested hopefully, licking his dry lips with an even drier tongue.
Yuri shook his head sorrowfully. “I am too tired of this. Some cannot be saved. But I will help. I know ways. You and the boy, a couple of the others, get out and be free.” He again patted George's shoulder then pulled his close and leaned into a conspirational whisper. His breath was definitely on the pungent side but as George listened, trying not to breathe too deeply, he suspected his own breath would be capable of killing a fly at fifty paces by now. “Through the, the, уборная...”
“The lavatory? Toilet?” George supplied helpfully.
The bigger, older werewolf looked surprised. “Da, through the toilet, in room at the end, many bricks is loose. They take you to the vampire side and freedom.”
In halting Russian, George repeated the directions back. Yuri grinned and nodded. “Da, Da! Вот точно!” He confirmed enthusiastically. He wanted George to lead those wanting to be freed through a hole in the back wall of the lavatory block into the vampire side of the building and get out from there. Something told George it wouldn't be as simple a task as it sounded.
|
|
|
|
Post by Melissa Kane on Jul 27, 2009 17:41:36 GMT
And Then What? Chapter Twelve
“You asked to see me, Sir?” Li bowed respectfully to the turned back of his Master who was standing in the right side of the office. The necklace he perpetually wore swung loose, a shiny Japanese kanji and he tucked it back beneath the collar of the round-necked T-shirt he was wearing when he received the master's urgent phonecall.
“Yes. Come here. Just look down there.” Dutifully, Li moved up beside the Master and looked down into the werewolf containment area, overseeing the “nests”. The Master was smiling indulgently, like a patient grandfather. “Its wonderful. They have accepted him. See?”
“Sir.” Li murmured in polite agreement. He could see all eight werewolves gathered together, the new one somewhere very near the centre and talking to the rest. It was, it seemed, being listened to. “Its taken some time.” He added, to sound interested.
“Perhaps he will be less restless now.” The master was immensely pleased as he turned from the one-way window. “Now then. Please, sit Mr Li.” The Master retired behind his desk, sitting next to his now-blind computer and laced his fingers together magnanimously. Li eased into the hard, grey plastic chair opposite, adjusted the dark suit jacket that he had flung on over his T-shirt so that it would not crease and waited to be let in on the reason he was brought here. “Those files you brought, very useful, by the way. I found the identities of three of our guests.”
Li nodded. Was everything about those bloody animals for the Master? He remained silent, waiting for the relevant point of discussion. “Mr Li, how goes it with seeking the female? Is she on her way here?”
Ah, so that was it. And by the light, conversational tone he was using, the Master already knew the answer. “She has eluded us, sir. Gone to ground.” Li admitted apologetically. “I am sorry, Sir.”
“Gone to ground how, exactly. The last report you gave me indicated that she was under surveillence.” The tone remained conversational, friendly almost. This would have to be handled with tact.
“I believe my men were less tactful than they perhaps might have been, Sir. She holed herself up in her home and only left for work when someone came to collect her. After that, we could not trace her.”
“Not at the hospital?”
“Nowhere, Sir.”Li sighed. At this, he was sincerely sorry. He was hovering dangerously close to receiving the Crowley treatment and that would never do. This bloody contrary female was a nuisance. “I've got the team working day and night trying to find her.”
“Mr Li. Its alright. The females always do seem to be rather more adept then the males are concealing themselves. Plus, females are scarcer. I believe human females are brighter than the males for not wandering around in the dark getting themselves bitten by werewolves. At least they were in my day.” Li refrained from commenting that the Master's days were several centuries in the past but couldn't resist a dry smile to himself. “But this does not mean you are, as they say, off the hook. I still expect that female to be brought here at the earliest opportunity before the next full moon.”
Li did some quick mental arithmetic. That gave him about thirteen days from now to track that werewolf down. “I understand, Sir.”
The Master waited for a moment longer then tilted his head meaningfully toward the door. Li, taking the hint, was halfway across the room when he was hailed. “Oh, and Mr Li.” Biting his tongue, Li turned and lowered his head respectfully. The Master had risen to his feet and moved soundlessly to be almost behind him, a talent which came with extreme age, Li imagined. “This is your last chance. Fail to get her and I will have to make some changes around here.”
“I understand, Sir.” Li repeated his subservient mantra automatically and left quietly. He certainly did understand. He understood that the old ways were long overdue a shake-up. The 'gentlemanly' warnings Turner and his kind would give were pointless, empty threats. The pompous ass Herrick fell prey to that way of thinking, of allowing the enemy time to plan. Turner knew what had happened, that Herrick's favourite had killed him, and still hadn't learned that lesson. Well, it was his own stupid fault if he allowed the same thing to happen to himself. Li allowed himself a bright grin in the harshly lit corridor down to the exit. Things were looking up. “Who needs the b*tch?” He murmured as he stopped off in the plain room he called an office and took off his suit jacket, swapping it for a far more casual dark green tracksuit top. He needed smart-casual for the next part of his plan.
Grabbing the car keys from the desk drawer, and tapping a pile of photographs back into alignment with the back of one finger as he passed, he left his office and exited the building. Unlocking his battered yellow Toyota, Li took time to look around as the cool evening breeze blew over his face. It was nice to be outside. The trees and fields were tranquil and still at this time of night. The sun was sinking and the sky, though still bright, was becoming an attractive dark blue above him. Twilight was approaching. He had thirteen days then his plan could be set in motion. Turner always said, use the means at your disposal so why the hell not.
*****
“So you've not seen her?” Mitchell asked again. He was leaning on the bar drinking a beer and trying to subtly enquire about the whereabouts of a certain Julia Beckett. This was the penultimate place he could think of to find a trace of the errant vampire – he and Annie had been out all day looking to no avail. Though vampires did meet here, the bar itself was owned and run by humans who probably didn't have a clue about the nature of some of their clientèle. Hide in plain sight, as the phrase went.
“Nope. Look, we get a lot of dark haired birds in here. Can't remember every one, now can I?”
The wiry, spotty, thin young barman oozed misplaced confidence and a really bad attitude.
Mitchell was barely holding onto his patience here and just had to pass a caustic comment. “Well, I don't know. I mean I can't imagine a fine specimen of manhood like you getting the knock back from women.” He took a nonchalent drink and smiled.
“Yeah, exactly. Doesn't happen.”
“So you really don't remember this girl?”
“What are you, deaf or summit? I said no, didn't I?”
It was at this point that Annie turned up, ostensibly from a visit to the toilet – though she had been looking around for clues. She sat herself on the barstool beside Mitchell but the spotty young bartender barely gave her a glance. Mitchell had noticed only three people in the bar had actually looked in Annie's direction, all three were young lads busy hammering the fruit machines or else monopolising the pool table. Later tonight they'd be forced out of there, no doubt. Taking her slightly preoccupied expression to mean she'd found something interesting, Mitchell drained the half pint still left in his glass in one long, practised gulp before getting to his feet and heading for the exit. “Well, thanks. I guess we'll be leaving then.”
The bartender looked distinctly unworried by this announcement. “Yeah. Bye.”
Outside, the low-slung evening sun was still warm and almost pleasant on the skin as he emerged. Orange-tinted clouds scudded along on the fresh breeze and these light gusts tousled Mitchell's lank hair playfully as he slid on his sunglasses. He and Annie rounded the corner together.
“He wasn't very helpful.” Mitchell commented in a surprisingly upbeat manner considering they'd been to eighteen different establishments and had found out nothing useful at any of them. One of their stops, a private cookery school not far from the university, had given an intriguing piece of information but following that had led them to a dead end. Quite literally.
Trying to match Mitchell's mood and almost succeeding, Annie moved toward the car as she asked brightly, “Nope. So where to next, Columbo?” Mitchell opened the car door and got inside.
As he started the car, Mitchell had to admit that he had just one more place on his list which might yield answers, another pub, The Blue Whale. “They do pretty good bar food there, too.” He added, as if it would help matters – though from his own point of view, it certainly would. He hadn't eaten much all day and needed his carbohydrate quota topping up quickly because passers by were beginning to become quite tempting. A hand touched his and he glanced over to see that preoccupied look again. “What's up, Annie?”
“There...” She pointed at the narrow metal gate at the end of the alley at the back of the pub where a figure in a back baseball cap lurked, almost wholly in shadow despite the daylight. “He was watching us all the while we were in there.” She whispered. A face peered through the bars and looked straight at them.
Mitchell turned off the ignition and got out. As he got near the bars, the figure drew back. “Hey! Hold on. Its alright. I just wanna talk.” The shadow on the wall hovered for a moment then shrank. As Mitchell got to the padlocked gate, the lurker was a few feet back next to the large, round, silver refuse bins.
“I've heard about you.” The young black man with the bright, moist eyes said softly with a broad Kentish accent. He'd been in one of the boys at the pool table earlier. “You and your mates, yeah?” His eyes flickered to the right as Annie moved in behind Mitchell. His eyes were drawn to her. “Didn't think it could happen.”
“You didn't think what could happen?” Annie asked. Mitchell, meanwhile, was regarding the lad who appeared to be barely in his twenties, intently, knowingly.
The lad smiled briefly revealing a gold tooth. His bare arms were covered in goosebumps and tattoos as his black t-shirt and low-slung jeans rippled in the gust of wind which suddenly howled down the alleyway stirring up the loose detritus on the ground. “Your kinds living with ours.” His eyes kept being drawn back to Annie appreciatively.
“What's your name?” Mitchell asked.
“Ty.”
“Well, its nice to meet you Ty. I'm Mitchell and this is Annie.”
“You're a vampire and a ghost, yeah?”
Annie smiled. “That's right.” She paused. “And you're...a werewolf?”
Ty gave a tight nod, suddenly a little nervous beneath his confidence. “S'right. Look, you're looking for that brunette, yeah? The angry witch, yeah?”
Mitchell was amused by the description of Julia as a witch and leaned against the brickwork beside the gate in a friendly fashion. “Yeah, yeah we are. Have you seen her?”
Ty looked around at the back door of the bar. “Noxy seen her. When you two came in the front, she went out this way.”
“Did Noxy see which way she went?”
Ty scuffed the floor with his boot and thrust his hands into his dangerously low jeans pockets. “Nope. He was busy eyein' up the new talent.” The boy said, looking Annie up and down again with a quirk of his eyebrows. “Don't get no fine ladies coming in here too often, y'know.”
Annie self-consciously pulled her cardigan around herself but stood her ground under such lascivious scrutiny. Her cheeks coloured a little in a way they ordinarily shouldn't. Mitchell was glad to find her using the good lessons Michael taught her without really thinking. Ty broke into another gold-toothed grin. “Well, thanks for that, Ty. We appreciate your help.” Mitchell offered a hand through the bars. Ty took a few steps forward and shook it briskly before retreating. As the young werewolf turned to leave, Mitchell called him back. “Ty.”
The boy turned, once more hidden by the shadows of the building around him. “Yeah?”
“Be careful hanging around in here. Vampires use this place too.”
“Yeah, I know. S'part of the game, blood. The rules are changin'.” As he re-entered the pub, he added. “Hope you find your werewolf safe. And soon. You'll need 'im.”
Now alone together, Annie and Mitchell exchanged a look of complete surprise at Ty's parting shot. “They know?”
Turning to survey the maze of side streets behind them, Mitchell replied in a distracted tone. “I guess Herrick and the coterie weren't the only ones to notice us after all.”
|
|
|
|
Post by Melissa Kane on Jul 27, 2009 17:42:08 GMT
And Then What? Chapter Thirteen
The hunt among the back streets of Bristol for Julia proved to be fruitless. It was a Friday night so the area they were searching was filling with a growing number of people, humans and vampires alike. Coupling that with the loss of the light and the general feeling of fatigue brought about by a long and trying day, Annie and Mitchell traipsed back to the bar to collect the car.
A crumpled scrap of paper flapped listlessly under one of the windscreen wipers. Annie picked it up and read it aloud. “Look to the west for what you seek.” That was the cryptic message. She was looking up and down the street as if to catch sight of the messenger.
Mitchell raised his eyebrows. “Go West?”
“What?”
“Its one of my favourite Marx Brothers films. The one with the train and the deeds to a plot of land and stuff...”
Annie regarded him in a curious manner, partly distracted by his slightly random and enthusiastically misplaced reminiscence. “Is the train station to the west? Is that what they mean, do you think?”
“Nah, probably not. It just reminded me, that's all.” He didn't sound at all certain. “I wonder who wrote it.” He mused, holding out his hand. Annie passed the note over. She didn't recognise the handwriting but it was possible he might. He studied it for a moment, reading the eight words through a couple of times and then turning the paper over. It was written in blue ballpoint pen in block capital letters which had been pressed through to the other side by a heavy hand. He looked around and then gave Annie an encouraging smile.
“Do you know who wrote it?” She asked at length.
Mitchell gave a slow shake of his head. “No, but I've no doubts we'll find out soon enough.” He placed the note in his pocket, glanced around again and looked toward the car. In a warm, inviting and wholly persuasive tone of voice, he added. “C'mon, lets go home. I'm starving and I think we both need a rest.”
As it was, owing to Mitchell's fragmented shifts for the next three days at the hospital, a rather offish Nina and a sudden influx of plant life thanks to the rose-crazy lady who Annie learned was called Joyce, the trip to The Blue Whale pub never happened. But in the few hours Annie and Mitchell could spare, they started following the instructions and looking toward establishments to the west side of Bristol for information. The note seemed too significant to ignore – though quite which of the many things they sought right now they might find toward the west was unknown.
*****
The whitewashed walls of the communal toilet area were dustier than normal. Laid on his side behind one of the toilets with his feet braced against the wall of the last cubicle, George sneezed violently and uttered a low curse under his breath. He'd now been destroying the mortar between those bricks for what felt like days - a thought in which he would learn he was quite accurate - and had succeeded in getting a dozen or so out and denting the cubicle wall with his heels. But, the good news was that there was almost enough room now. He cursed Yuri's assertion that the bricks were loose softly under his breath for the umpteenth time. Yeah, for a big man like him they probably seemed loose but they were anything but sodding loose to him.
“Hows it going?” A voice asked from the next cubicle. Tully was standing on the seat cover and peering over the cubicle wall with a grin. George looked up, resisting the temptation to rub the irritating dust from his face since his hands were also covered in the powdered mortar. He blinked harshly, shaking his head for a moment, hoping to dislodge the worst of the powder. Tully looked for all the world like a hairy, badly scarred version of the graffiti character Chad with only his fingers and top half of his head visible.
George took a breath to reply and ended up choking on the remains of the mortar. Coughing vigorously he wriggled his way upright again then bent double over his knees. Tully laughed even as he hopped down to the floor and came around to George's side of the cubicle wall. “Thanks for the sympathy.” George gasped as he finally got air into his lungs. He cast a doubtful glance at the wall. “This is never going to work.” He lamented tiredly.
“Don't be so defeatist.” Tully encouraged. “Tell you what, they just rang the shower bell. Give it a rest for now, get washed up then you and me'll get back on this. We'll 'ave it done in no time.” Tully held out a hand and George accepted it. In a cloud of what looked like fine, white sand, he managed to get to his feet. Tully helped dust George off until he looked almost normal. “Better get a clean set of clothes for the big push.” Tully grinned, cleaned his hands and left the wash room humming the theme tune for the Great Escape. George couldn't help but grin as he closed his eyes and dusted off his hair and beard before getting down on his knees again and sliding the bricks loosely back into place to hide their work.
Still dusting down, George was still a little unsure. This whole thing seemed too easy, somehow. It was so convenient that those bricks were coming out and opening into what Yuri had assured him was a store room in a little used part of the complex. How would Yuri know something like that? He had, of course, been here for a long time – more than two years at least at George's best guess. Its possible he could have explored but why hadn't he escaped himself ages ago if he knew a way out? Some of his suspicions were allayed by the fact that Yuri wanted Aleksandr to come with him and the other escapees – he seemed to genuinely care for the boy. So, aside from Aleks and himself, the runners consisted of Tully, Daniel and Luke. Kelvin and Zhen had opted to remain with Yuri.
Deciding to actively oppose his mistrustful nature and try not to worry about the what ifs, George stretched and yawned and headed to the shower room to join the queue. Unsurprisingly, he was last in line again. Luke, in the next to last position, turned and looked him over. “Tonight?” He asked shortly.
George looked at him and nodded. “I think so, yes.”
Luke's gaze dropped to the floor, sighing in something approaching relief. “Good.” He whispered as he allowed himself a small smile and turned to face front again. George found himself feeling a little better, knowing he could help the others, but that responsibility was also making him increasingly nervous. What if things went wrong? Could they rely on each other or would he be left high and dry? He quashed his doubts firmly and kept the lid down on his worries even though he knew they'd bubble up again if he let them.
So tonight was the night. The hole would definitely be big enough after the fortification brought on by a second meal and, of course, with Tully's help. So far, George had been doing the majority of the work simply because it would look less suspicious, him being absent from the pack. And it seemed the general toilets were not monitored or else their plan would have been rumbled days ago. Idly, nervously, George scratched at his arms. It would be a relief to feel clean. It'd more of a relief to feel warm, but clean would be a good start.
The line shuffled forward as Yuri came out of the shower room fully dressed and shivering. The big man came to George's side, rubbing his great hands over his bulging, hairy arms to generate some heat. “You are almost ready, Tully tells me.” Yuri said conversationally.
“Almost, yes.” George's gaze strayed along the line for a moment before reverting back to look up at the Russian. “Are you sure you won't come?”
“No, Giorgi. For old wolves as Kelvin and myself, the time for running is over. Mr Crowley, he helps us old ones, protects us. You know this yes? You already trust one vampyr. It is not such a, such a...” Yuri searched his quite impressive vocabulary for the appropriate word, “...jump of faith for to trust another.”
Even as he agreed, this surprised George, but not the part where it was known that his own best friend was a vampire. That was common knowledge. The surprise was that despite the things Yuri had said in their confrontation several days ago, he also trusted a vampire. This Crowley fellow, the doctor. Yuri seemed to be insinuating that they all could trust that vampire. “Not such a leap of faith.” George repeated, correcting Yuri's slight verbal error absently. The way the Russian werewolf spoke of Crowley was filled with respect and even pride. Besides, prior to Crowley knocking him out in a way George still couldn't understand, he too had felt secure around the doctor for reasons he couldn't quite put his finger on. Yuri patted George on the arm and moved away.
The meal bell rang about an hour after the showers had finished and everyone dutifully trooped over to the feeding room to collect their meals – a quite beautifully cooked haddock fillet with butter sauce and the necessary side of vegetables - before all hunkering down together. Conversations were held in hushed tones and with many oblique references, and succeeded in finalising the plans. At one point, all eyes turned to George who suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious.
He'd never liked being the object of attention because for people like him, veritable trouble magnets, it tended to all end up in tears or worse. That was something Mitchell and Annie, and poor Nina, had never understood. He didn't attract trouble because he was a werewolf, though that didn't help matters. He attracted trouble because he was just George. In fact he was firmly convinced that it was because he was himself that Tully attacked him in wolf form in the first place. Or that something else would have happened eventually. It always did.
He broke his fish into pieces with his fingertips and chewed the pieces slowly, always wary of bones. He tried to not look uncomfortable even as the embarrassed colour rose in his cheeks – most of which was thankfully obscured by his whiskers. At a quietly phrased question, he swallowed hard. “Well, for that we, we'll need to raid the clothes store. We don't know where we are... do, do we?” A subtle shake of the head from Daniel confirmed that none of them had managed to find out where they were, geographically. “We might need a change of clothes. For warmth.” There was a general, subtle nod of agreement from the assemblage. “And, and that room has food in it so we, we can stock up there.” George had managed to stretch through and open the boxes stacked nearest to him during the excavation process. Inside had been quite long lasting foodstuffs – tins of beans, packets of meal-for-one soups, tins of preserved vegetables and squinting hard at the labels through still achy eyes, George was sure he'd seen the word “pickles” written on one box. On the other side were boxes and boxes of what looked to be paperwork.
Daniel gave a smile so broad and so terrifyingly, wickedly wolfish that George was almost convinced the man was about to transform there and then. “Well, if it runs out while we travel, we can always kill something.” There was a glint of madness in the other man's eye which scared the hell out of George as he emphasised the word kill.
“Yeah, rabbits and stuff are rife all over the country. We'll be fine.” Luke put in innocently before bringing the plate to his lips and licking the butter sauce up.
*****
Annie had a new ritual. Gone was the line up of teas, coffees and other beverages. In its place was a kitchen full of plants of varying types, from the roses Joyce shared to some actually quite pretty spider plants which Nina, upon seeing those in the window, had donated. Annie put them in hanging baskets on either side of the window and their long slender leaves hung down and gave such a lovely, fresh smell to the air. This love of plants seemed to break the strange mood Nina was in and make her more communicative when Mitchell finally coaxed her into dropping by.
As they sat on the couch in the living room, her tale of being followed home and watched set the house mates on edge. Mitchell all but demanded to know why she hadn't called them straight away like she had the night she and George had been attacked.
“That was for him. I knew you'd want to know about that and be there for him. But you don't need me ringing up every time someone looks at me funny and I get paranoid. That's not fair.”
“But what if its not paranoia?” Mitchell asked delicately.
“What if its the same people who took George who are on the look out for you?” Annie added, picking up where Mitchell was going once more making him wonder if she really was reading his mind at times.
Nina seemed shaken that possibility although abduction was always on the list of reasons George wasn't home yet. She'd simply not thought of herself as being a target before.
Mitchell leaned forward from the chair and protectively took her hand in his. “Promise us you'll phone if there's even the slightest hint of a problem. We want to make sure you're safe.”
The ward sister nodded, looking scared. “I've been... staying at Sasha's flat for the past few days. I had to lie. I told her mine's being fumigated. There was a car outside my house when she came to pick me up, it'd been there all night and there were two people inside it.”
He released her hand and leaned back. “Is that why you were so short with me the other day in the hospital?” Mitchell asked, recalling that Nina had vented her, at that point unexplained, frustration at him so very savagely. She'd actually managed to embarrass him which was a difficult thing to achieve normally. In those few moments, he'd realised just how formidable the woman could be. And possibly why she and George were so right for one another.
“Only because you're taller, y'know.” Nina quipped, her natural sassy defence mechanism kicking in. Her little smile stayed for a moment as Mitchell snorted a laugh. She toyed with the empty coffee cup resting on her knee. “But yeah. Sorry about that. In times of stress I tend to give the nearest male a tongue lashing.”
Annie grinned. “That sounds reasonable to me.”
“I can see that I'm totally outvoted here.” Mitchell grumbled good-naturedly.
|
|
|
|
Post by Melissa Kane on Jul 27, 2009 17:42:48 GMT
And Then What? Chapter Fourteen
It was a few more hours after their evening meal before the escape plan was put into effect.
It still required a fair bit of wriggling and effort to get through the hole but after arriving at intervals with spare clothes wadded up inside other clothes and having prepared the nests to look as though they were occupied, all the five escapees were soon through and into the room beyond. It had occurred to George that their attempt could all be for nothing if their captors actually saw them preparing th nests or basically doing any of this but he hadn't the heart to mention it especially in front of the hopeful child who had taken to being never more than three feet away from him at any time.
Blowing a good-luck kiss through the gap, Zhen began putting the bricks back in place to try to cover their escape route. George knew she was only a couple of years old in the werewolf stakes and probably a bit younger than himself in actual age, so even as he wondered why she chose to remain with Yuri and Kelvin, he sort of knew that she had grown used to the companionship. Plus, she and Kelvin were inseparable despite the obvious age difference. He idly wondered if Kelvin were the one to have made her.
However, there was no place for such distractions right now. The room in which they had amassed was quite small, barely ten feet square and home to boxes upon boxes of stored, dried food which were even now being opened. Tins and flatter packets of things like dried meats and packet soups were stuffed into pockets or else wrapped inside the clothing bundles.
The door to this room was securely locked, they found. Tully, using some of the skills he'd used to survive, was quite accurately picking the lock using none other than a couple of the paper clips George had found. The door was unlocked in no time and Luke volunteered to open it, just a crack, and peek through surreptitiously to check that the coast was clear. He nodded the all clear and George, holding the remarkably silent little Aleks by the hand, led the way. He headed to the right out of the doorway and followed the white, featureless corridor along. It had a certain familiarity to it.
The quintet had to pause when they heard a long, loud droning noise coming from a door ahead that was ajar. To George's surprise as he peered around the door frame, it was the little office Crowley used as an examination room. The aforementioned vampire was clad in his white smock and running one of the machines George had seen on the counter top previously. A waft of incense from inside hit his nostrils and George immediately covered his nose and mouth. The others followed suit on his signal and they crept past the door. First George and Aleks passed the opening, then Luke scurried past in third place, followed by a surprisingly stealthy Tully and finally, less subtly, Daniel brought up the rear. As he passed, he scowled at Crowley's still-turned back.
*****
Crowley raised his head from tending to the machine which resembled a squat little blender which was shaking side to side and mixing up a silver coloured liquid. On the counter beside him were several tranquilliser darts, their feathered caps removed revealing the empty glass vial underneath. He glanced over at the door with a frown. Had he sensed something, some movement? Straightening, he moved to the door and opened it wider as he looked out into the corridor. “Hello?” He enquired, looking left and right. Nothing moved now. It must have been his overly tired mind acting up. With a small grunt of satisfaction that it had merely been his imagination, he closed the door to prevent further distractions and returned to his work.
*****
Five werewolves had their backs pressed against the curved, white wall, just around the corner from the examination room. A plaintive call of hello was met by stony silence as the escapees held their collective breaths. Not a single one moved though Tully was desperately holding onto the fire extinguisher he had accidentally nudged with his hip when they scurried for cover. A soft click seconds later told them the door had closed, but they remained stock still for a few moments longer. Ten ears strained to pick up the slightest sound of movement. If he had come out of the room, he might be standing, waiting for them to give themselves away.
“Did he see us?” Luke finally hissed in a slightly shaky whisper.
Daniel, the last in line, slid along the wall, ducking down low, turned to peep around. The long corridor behind them was devoid of life. “We're okay.” He whispered, standing up less secretively. Everyone relaxed and on impulse, George gave Aleks' hair an encouraging tousle. They were so near to their goal. George remembered the route from here which would bring them to the door of the loading bay. But that was not their escape route – or not their primary one at any rate. When Crowley and Li had led him out the other day, aside from noticing the slightly twisted lock, George had spotted a fire escape door. That was the route they were going to take to get out. It had been these observations that had made the others listen when he had told them the planned route.
“Okay then, come on.” George took the lead and moved off with one hand clutching a shirt full of supplies and the other leading the small boy again. Everything was going well. Too well. It was at that moment that the fire extinguisher slipped off its wall hook and Tully was unable to keep a proper grip on either it or his bundle of supplies. It clanged to the ground and his parcel burst open on the floor. The extinguisher echoed loudly in the confines as it rolled. There came the sound of a door snatching open and even as the five of them began to run, Crowley was running toward the sound of footfalls. Turning the corner, he shouted after them to stop but none of them had any intentions. Tully who was trying to grab at his fallen package was thrown by the sudden appearance of Crowley. The vampire made a grab for him but Tully was already scuttling backwards, turning to get to his feet and scrambling after the others. Still yelling, Crowley was only a foot or so behind him.
George, leading the way, suddenly veered to the right down a diagonal corridor. Daniel, now level with Luke, careered after him with Tully lagging behind. Crowley made another grab for his shirt but Tully darted to the left before a burst of adrenaline sent him powering off along behind the others.
There was no looking back as George skidded on the slick, newly mopped floor and collided with the wall as he turning into a corridor on the left. He let out a high cry as his left arm went dead and he dropped the supplies he was carrying. This corridor led straight to the fire door. He could see the green beacon above it glowing. Ignoring the pain in his left arm, he scooped Aleks up in his right and ran for all he was worth. Daniel and Luke, unhindered, overtook him and it was Daniel who connected with the silver bar across the door first. The fire door crashed open like it had been hit by a juggernaut, swinging back expansively on its hinges and shuddering back in just enough time for Luke to once more drive it back against the outside brickwork of the building. Bright sunlight drove into the corridor, which threw George off for a moment. The second the door opened, a siren began to sound, screaming so painfully loud when George, holding Aleks tightly to him, passed beneath one of the speakers. As the door bounced back toward its closed position, George twisted and hit it with his injured shoulder so as not to hurt the child he held. He spun as he careered through the door and emerged into a yard fill of stacked metalwork and piles of discarded wooden pallets. Of the metal, much was rusty and clearly had been there for a long time. Darting to the left, he risked a glance back and wished he hadn't. As the fire door swung closed once more, he saw Crowley catch up with Tully and throw him bodily against the wall inside. The door bounced closed but not quickly enough – George had seen the pure anger and a wince of pain from the bright sunlight on Crowley's face as the black-eyed rage of a vampire descended on him. So much for him being a friend to werewolves.
“I'm sorry.” George whispered as he melted in amongst the high stacks, feeling the weight of the kid who was trembling in his grasp. With his left arm still numb from the shoulder down, George had to let Alek's slide to the ground as they made their escape. Weaving among the random skeletal remains of the factory's former business, George hunted for a way out. Allowing himself a moment to look back and upwards, it was clear this place had once been a thriving business. The building itself stretched over a vast area and was at least seven floors high. Many windows were gone now, though, and the only parts that looked safe were those in which he now knew he and the others had been held. Large letters painted on the side of the building proclaimed the company to have been called Kenyon's.
That was all the time George had for sightseeing. Already he could see dark shapes moving among the many stacks and though they may have been the others, it was safer to just assume they were hunting the escapees. They all had to get out of the yard as soon as possible. He had spotted a fence made of wire-mesh and headed for it. Aleks, trotting at double speed to keep up with the adult's strides, suddenly pulled back on George's hand, stopping him in his tracks. “там.” Aleks whispered as he pointed to the lower corner of a section of the fence which was loose and bent inwards. It took George a moment to focus, but he too saw the possible escape route. Maybe Daniel and Luke had created the hole and had already gotten out into the fields beyond. George was sure he could smell salt water on the air as he and Aleks crept closer. With no supplies to speak of between them, the older werewolf was seriously questioning his plan.
“There they are!!” A cry went up. The voice was unfamiliar and close by but from a direction that made George sure they hadn't been spotted. George ducked back behind a precarious stack of pallets, Aleks crushing up against him with a soft whimper. If they'd been spotted, they'd know soon enough when they were apprehended. The two remained silent as a group of at least four people with ran nearer. Tensed, George was ready to fight if needs be, for all the good it would do him with one arm still numb from the impact with the wall and door. It was a relief when they passed by, still shouting orders back and forth like the gentry on a fox hunt. They both leaned around the edge of their hiding place as the last hunter disappeared from sight.
Aleks looked up with his wide blue eyes and George gave the child an encouraging smile. “Come on.” He whispered, standing cautiously. They once more made for the opening. But had no sooner moved from their hiding place when there came a crash. “Gotcha!” Came a triumphant yell and through the irregular spaces between pallets, George saw Luke being thrown against them face first by a lean vampire he'd not seen before. His arms were being pulled behind his back, almost like he was about to be handcuffed, when a large and angry figure darted from nowhere and dragged the vampire away. Daniel hit the vampire about the head with a heavy plank of wood, stunning him. As the captor staggered to one side, he collided with the barely balanced stack of pallets George and Aleks had sheltered behind and with a groan, their delicate equilibrium disappeared. Twenty rotting pallets crashed forward and, in an oddly hypnotic domino effect, tipped the balance of a criss-cross stacked pile of red-painted corroded metal bars. The stack of bars tottered momentarily then collapsed, destroying the outer fence in a deafening cloud of rust, dust and metal.
Taking full advantage of the distraction, Daniel had discarded the plank, grabbed Luke by the scruff of the neck and was hauling him over the pallets and poles even as the vampire who almost captured them was getting to his feet. Luke, his wits back with him for the time being lashed out with a well aimed boot and dropped the vampire again. They both hurled themselves from the overhanging metal bars, landing on the gravel beyond with a scrunch. They made a sprint for the nearest cover, a low hedge some thirty or forty metres away and then ducked from sight.
Aleks began to had for the newly opened fence when George put a hand out and stopped him. Now was the time for thinking clearly. The vampires were coming, he could hear them, and would assume their escapes went out over the fence. So this was the perfect time to head back toward the small and now probably overlooked opening on an entirely different part of the fence, hidden from sight. George held the wire up awkwardly while Aleks crawled through and crawled into some long grass. George followed, finding the exit a little more difficult before he too made a break for freedom, lay down and was hidden in the long, sweet-smelling grass. From their vantage point, Aleks and George saw the vampires beginning to search the fields which seemed to stretch for miles in all directions. Aleks was enraptured by the swaying yellow heads of corn or barley – George had no idea which was which – that covered the others' tracks.
As they stayed put, watching carefully, it was evident to George that there were miles upon miles of fields around them which didn't offer a whole lot of choice when it came to taking cover. Added to that their less than stealthy method of escape which would no doubt give their pursuers a good idea of the direction they were headed and this meant that George was becoming seriously concerned for their immediate future. Upon a whispered word, Aleks began crawling expertly over the rutted ground a little way ahead and away from the complex. George followed close behind. Fresh air, new-found freedom and knowing he was now responsible for someone other than himself were already strengthening his determination to avoid capture.
|
|
|
|
Post by Melissa Kane on Jul 27, 2009 17:43:32 GMT
And Then What? Chapter Fifteen
Mitchell stretched and yawned as he descended the stairs barefoot clad only in a pair of dark coloured shorts and a creased yellow t-shirt. He could hear Annie moving around in the kitchen as the TV sat talking to itself in the living room – the local evening news was on so it had to be after 6pm. d**n, he'd meant to have been up hours ago. “Hey.” He greeted softly as he entered the kitchen, scratching at his head and yawning silently again.
Annie was filling the kettle straight from the cold water tap. “Hello sleepy head. D'you want a coffee?”
“Yeah, please.” A sudden urge to yawn again hit him and he gave in to it. “I overslept. Why didn't you wake me?” He asked, opening the fridge to find something to eat.
Annie put the kettle onto its base and flicked it on. She turned and pressed her back to the counter. “I was going to but you looked so peaceful. I figured you needed the rest. I know you've not been sleeping well lately.” There came a low hiss as the kettle began to heat the water.
Actually, he couldn't argue with that. Normally he could sleep pretty well anywhere but the past week or so had left him with a weird kind of insomnia. Maybe the accumulated stress of the current situation – George, Julia, Nina, Annie and the uncertainty of Pratchett's aims - was what had him wandering the landing in the small hours of the morning or watching telly downstairs until he either fell asleep on the sofa or had to go to work. Julia, since the reported sighting by Ty the werewolf nearly a week ago, was quite simply gone. There was no apparent sign of her anywhere despite the enquiries by both he and Annie. Annie in particular had been asking numerous questions on all matters among the spirit community with which she was now becoming quite well acquainted. Dishearteningly, most of the reports were of things they already knew.
“Did you manage to get some sleep?” Mitchell enquired.
“I dozed.” Annie replied as she poured boiling water into a clean cup. “Maybe twenty minutes while Loose Women was on. It wasn't long after you went up, actually.” Stirring in the powdered coffee, sugar and adding a splash of milk, she handed Mitchell his drink which he accepted gratefully.
He nodded toward to living room. “That's good then. Well, maybe not great but its a start.” He made a detour toward the door, scooped up the evening paper. “Did you dream?”
Annie appeared, crouched on the couch well ahead of him and gave him a half-hearted smile which stirred a need to hug her inside Mitchell. “Kind of - I think I saw a man in a forest but it was dark and cold there and I couldn't see too well so I couldn't be sure. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. I kinda felt scared and, and it felt like I was being hunted. It wasn't nice.” She added miserably.
Mitchell sat down beside her and put the paper on his lap. “That's what you get from watching daytime TV.” He chuckled, trying to make light of the “dream” which had obviously shaken her. Annie instinctively leaned against him and he wrapped an arm about her shoulders, giving her the hug she needed.
“Maybe I should go on Jeremy Kyle and blame him for my nightmares.” She added with a short laugh.
Mitchell chuckled. “It couldn't hurt.”
They fell silent together as the evening news continued. There had been a bus crash in Kingsdown and two people had been hurt, neither seriously. There was a short interview with an eyewitness with a pronounced Bristollian drawl. Next up was the story of a group of local youth football teams who had just completed a 24 hour floodlit match for charity and raised an impressive £650, according to the understandably proud organiser of the event. It was the final story of the evening, though, which piqued their interest. As a curiosity story a report announced that the hunt for the sinisterly titled “Beast of Bristol” was continuing after the discovery of a fourth corpse in the forests of Cheddar Gorge. They gave no more details other than to recap the violent events in the hospital just under three weeks ago.
Nina had told Mitchell of this when she saw him in the hospital last evening. She's learned it from the policeman she used to date. He'd told her that another naked, mutilated body had been found dumped in the woods but this one was fairly well decomposed. It'd been nibbled on by animals but the cause of death was believed to be the same as the three other similarly unclothed corpses found a couple of weeks earlier. The identity of this person was unknown right now. Beside Mitchell, Annie suddenly straightened up as a map was brought up showing the approximate locations of the corpses found as well as sightings people had reported of big black animals like the one reported at the scene of the attack in Bristol General. “What's wrong?” He asked, looking at her stunned visage.
“Look to the west for what you seek.” She whispered, repeating the words of their mysterious note. “All those bodies were found to the west of the city.”
Mitchell snapped his gaze back to the TV. She was right!
*****
It was growing darker as George peered out of their current hiding place under the roots of a large, aged oak. He squinted cautiously left and right as their third night of freedom began. The higher branches of the taller trees swayed in the rising wind, casting fretful shadows in the twilight-clad forest. In a move that had become natural to both of them, George raised his arm and Aleks, who had been concealed deeper beneath the roots, moved forward pushing his upper body into the gap so the elder werewolf could give him a small hug to both warm him up and reassure him. “I think we're okay.” He whispered to the child and the two crawled tentatively into the open, Aleks automatically reaching up to hold George's hand as soon as they were on their feet. George arched his back slightly to stretch the kinks out of his muscles. His joints crackled softly with the movement. Meanwhile Aleks yawned broadly and with a fairly loud sound.
Hiding by day and travelling by night was dangerous - the darkness at least offered them some kind of cover but progress was slow. They had camped out in a barn on their first full day and though it was something he disliked doing, George stole a loaf of bread and a bottle of milk he found quaintly still on the doorstep. He'd also acquired a cloth bag in which to carry their meagre supplies after having lost the ones they had taken from the warehouse. The second night of their freedom they'd left the road and entered the forest but that had had its downside. They did have more cover which helped prevent them being spotted but the resident thorn bushes, low hanging branches and uneven ground had conspired against them. Adding to that the after effects of their mostly inactive incarceration and lack of a decent meal in several days, both were growing weary quickly and seemed to be making less and less headway each night. The waxing moon, barely more than a crescent, was beginning to make its presence felt but was still out of sight at present.
George, who had been exhaustingly alert to their surroundings since their escape, suddenly crouched and shushed the boy with a finger to his lips. The child fell immediately silent as he huddled closer. When a badger snuffled noisily out into view several yards away, George rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh at his own highly-strung nature. Brother Brock, almost startled out of his monochrome-striped coat by the unexpected noise coupled with a distinctly unnatural scent, turned tail and fled back into the sparse undergrowth.
“What was that?” Aleks asked in his uncertain English and pointed.
George blinked a few times, vainly trying to clear his fuzzy vision. “A badger, I think.” He answered softly before taking the little boy by the hand and dusting him down. It was a reflex on his part - he hated dirt despite it being very much a part of his monthly existence now. “Come on then.” He whispered, standing. Aside from the badger, George had been quick to notice that wildlife avoided them like he plague. The proud owls and skilful bats steered well clear above their heads, inquisitive foxes and skittish deer would flee from their path as they picked a meandering route through the trees. Tonight they found themselves trudging along in a high-sided ditch, walking along in thin clothes that were soaked through with the sporadic rain. Likewise chilled by a biting wind, this only added to their discomfort. There were short bursts of quiet conversation between them about badgers or other “safe” subjects, both in English and Russian, but in general, Aleks and George traversed the forest in a gloomy, sodden silence.
Now and then, George would pause from their squelching progress to listen whereby Aleks would fall silent and nervously peer around with his bright gaze. At one stage, as the bright half moon hung high and cloud shorn, illuminating their presence to anyone who might care to look, they heard voices. The six year old child flew to trustingly to the arms of his protector who gathered him up and held him tight with a face set in an expression of tense determination. The voices were low and near. Maybe it was the effect of the wan moonlight, but George paled considerably as one of the voices floated forth with its slight oriental lilt and was recognised. A second, gruffer voice rumbled out of the dark above and behind them as George, holding the trembling Aleks to his chest, pressed his back into the soft ground. It was cold, unpleasant and wet as the ground began to enfold his shoulders. Aleks shifted slightly as the mud oozed against the side of his face. George felt his stomach do a slow turn in response to the creeping, cold sensation before knotting up fearfully.
“They could be anywhere, Jonas.” Far too close for comfort for the refugees, Li grunted, a sound filled with infinite frustration and no small measure of anger. “They have that kid in tow so if they have split up, whoever's got him won't gave gotten far.” George was barely breathing. The voices were directly overhead. If Li or the other man chose to look down, they would be seen. That would be that because neither he nor Aleks had the reserves left to run and especially not through terrain like this. “That bloody Crowley put 'em up to it.” Li hissed. Obviously their escape had caused him problems and this idea made George feel oddly proud. In an even lower tone, as if to himself, Li continued his small rant.“He's always had that old fashioned way of looking at those beasts. He's blinkered to the fact that they're inferior. He thinks they deserve to be equal to us, to be free. I bet he let them go! The stupid old b*st*rd is wrong, they're just f*cking animals. Whatever they might have been in the past, they're just animals now.”
George was quivering now, not only with cold and fear but with a rising indignation. He took the playful jibes concerning his condition from Mitchell and Annie as just that, playful, despite how they stung sometimes. But this guy, he really meant the things he said. He really did think of werewolves as mere animals. Never possessing the steadiest of temperaments in normal circumstances, a stressed out and exhausted George had to fight to keep himself quiet and hidden in the face of this slight against his kind. In his arms, Aleks shuddered but stayed quiet as George twisted his head slowly to look up darkly.
“They can't be far away, Mr Li. Listen.” The gruff voiced Jonas replied almost soothing his superior's temper. “It's as silent as the grave.”
“I know, I can sense them.” Li replied in a thoughtfully slow manner, already far removed from his outburst seconds earlier.
George held his breath, still focussing upward. He could, from this admittedly limited vantage point, see the vaguest shadow above. Without warning, the toe of a heavy boot appeared, right above his head. The tiny jolt of surprise George gave left his already precarious perch slipping toward the centre of the ditch as the rain-softened mud began to shift. Aleks had seen the boot too and resolutely, in the endearingly childlike fashion of “if I can't see you then you cant see me”, clenched his eyes shut. His small fist tightened its death grip on George's shirt as he did so but still the obviously scared little boy didn't utter a sound. He had to admire the restraint of a boy so small. For the first time in over three years, George began to silently pray.
They continued to slide inexorably to the rounded, water-laden bottom of the ditch. George assessed the options frantically. He could try to right himself, adjust his position, but the vampires above him would surely hear the sucking of the mud and his other movements in this preternatural hush. Likewise, if he continued to slide, the hunters would see them both in mere seconds. Since running was bound to be pointless as they'd never get out of the ditch before being captured, the only other option would be to stand and fight – and he already knew who would win that particular one-sided battle. But maybe if he did that, he could at least have Aleks get away and hide somewhere. He was a smart kid. No, he couldn't do that. He was just a child and George couldn't and wouldn't leave him alone out here if he could help it.
“HEY!” A loud call broke the silence. George sagged. They'd been spotted. It was game over.
|
|
