Safe Haven, page 19
Within twenty minutes, both weapons were in position. Richard and David would stay with them at the barricade. It was time for everyone to get to their places. George had hand-picked a crew for the boat and that had already set sail. They had no idea how long this would last. They didn't even know if Fry really would come back, but it was too much of a risk to take. Mike believed he would and that was enough for most people.
Hughes took his work gloves off and extended his hand. "This was a real achievement, fellas," he said, looking at Richard and then David. His iron grip crunched both their hands in gratitude. His gaze moved to Jules, Andy and Beth. "Right then, you're in charge now guys. You know the brief. Barnes will be coming up here shortly. He's bringing the rest of the ammo and a few more rifles..." Hughes paused and looked around at the tents, the people, then his eyes went down to the road and beyond. "I'll see you when this is all over."
Beth flung her arms around him and squeezed, then gave him a big kiss on the cheek. "Good luck Bruiser," she said, and they both shared a smile. He swallowed hard. It was difficult not to get emotional. For all the hard work, for all the bravado, these could be their last hours. None of them were oblivious to the reality of what was going on.
"Good luck to you, sweetheart," he replied, "You volunteered for the East Ridge?"
"Yeah, I'm going to head across there soon."
"Take care, Beth," he replied.
"I will. Don't worry."
Mike hugged Beth. "I'm glad it's you going to the ridge." They both smiled. "You're one of the few people I have complete faith in Beth." She didn't say anything, but just kissed him on the cheek. He turned and walked back to the car, shaking hands with Richard, David, and George on the way, before giving Jules a powerful embrace. He climbed into the waiting vehicle and as soon as the door closed, Hughes started the engine and they pulled away.
Jules walked up to George and took his hand. "People said it was me who kept us alive back in Inverness, but we both know the truth."
George pulled out his pipe from his inside pocket and patted down the tobacco already in the bowl. He lit it and sucked in a deep breath. "We both had parts to play, chicken. You're a natural leader. People might listen to what I have to say, but people follow you. You give them hope. You give them a reason to carry on. You gave me a reason to carry on."
Jules sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "I love you George."
George's eyes misted over in the wave of blue smoke that he breathed out. He cleared his throat, "Let's not get emotional shall we? We've got a job at hand." He pulled away and walked over to the mangonels, inspecting them as if he'd forgotten to check something, but in reality, he just wanted to hide his own tears.
***
The physical barricade in place on "The Pass" was within the last one hundred metres of the road before the summit. When the attack began, no end of obstacles would be unleashed to make the ascent more treacherous than it was normally. One of the mangonels had been positioned next to the barricade, the other close to the summit. The destruction these had the potential to cause from this height would be a sight to behold. Although the encampment for this position was actually at the summit, the barricade would be the main focus when the battle commenced, so a few tents had been set up nearby. Food was being handed out by Sarah and two of her girls. Lucy and Emma were in charge of operations until Hughes or Mike returned. Boulders, rocks, and stones were piled next to the catapults. Drums with oil stood by them. Bottle crates that had once belonged to the local pub and carried nothing more that lemonade and cola, were now stacked by the road side and filled with Molotov cocktails. They were guerrillas willing to do whatever it took, willing to use whatever they needed to repel the enemy.
Emma brought the binoculars back up to her eyes. She looked in the direction of where the warning flare should fire from, but the sky was clear. They were in regular contact by radio as well, but there was always a risk the radios might not work, so they used a secondary method too. Everything had been planned. The flares would alert the enemy to the position of the lookouts, but their escape would be down the opposite side of a hill to which they had seen the enemy. In addition, the road was already blocked by a number of tree trunks just after that point. It had been a method they had used back in Candleton with some success. It didn't stop the marauders, but it delayed them. This tactic would ensure that when the flares were used, their lookouts would be home safe by the time the attack started. The ones creating the blockades knew of cross country bypasses should they need to get round in a hurry, but for any stranger, moving the huge logs was the only option.
***
"So how long have you and Beth been a thing?" asked Jules with a mischievous smile on her face. Barnes was in mid gulp of his soup, and he turned his eyes towards her. "Don't worry, no one else knows. I'm just good at picking these things up."
Barnes placed the mug back down on the edge of the rock where he sat. He looked around at the others, but they were all involved in their own conversations, their own thoughts. "We've tried to be discreet. I mean, her husband died not so long back. It's...complicated."
"Listen. Nobody knows when their time is up. We all need to find the small pleasures and comforts where we can. No one would judge either of you. Jesus! They'd be happy for you if anything," replied Jules.
"Well, it's probably going to be a moot point after today anyway, isn't it?"
"Oh ye of little faith," she said, smiling, before taking another sip of her soup and casting her eyes out to the rippling bay.
***
The farm had long since been abandoned. On the army's last trip north, they had used it for a few days to store the treasures they had pillaged from the surrounding villages, but now it served as a rest stop. The trip north had taken more time than expected. Blocked roads and roaming hordes of RAMs had slowed them down and the troops were tired. Fry's increasingly erratic behaviour concerned his lieutenants and the unease rippled around the encampment. Tents were hastily erected and two chow wagons had started dishing up food before the army bedded down for the night.
Fry sat in an old, but well-constructed red leather armchair. His feet stretched out onto a mahogany coffee table and he blew smoke rings into the air as he puffed away on one of the Don's fat cigars. Next to the chair, he had placed a holdall, which he carried around with him everywhere. Speculation was rife around the camp as to what was in the bag, but no one really knew. The radio next to his boots hissed and an American woman had a short conversation with another woman about changing the watch. The other woman, whose voice Fry felt sure he had heard before, said she was fine and the conversation ended.
He grinned, a big, yellow toothed grin, holding the cigar in his teeth, he scratched his mottled red beard, and reached down, gently patting the holdall like he was rewarding a good dog. Fry suck on the cigar, removed it from his mouth, leaned back his head and breathed another stream of smoke into the damp air of the old fashioned living room.
That voice. Where did he know that voice from? It was a little scratchy over the airwaves, but he knew it from somewhere. Well, it didn't matter, he would find out soon enough.
"That bag is starting to smell a little ripe, lover," said Juliet's voice.
The grin faded a little from Fry's mouth. His eyes narrowed. "We've had this discussion, sweetheart. It's something I need to do." He swung his feet off the coffee table and sat up, leaning towards the armchair across from him. His piercing eyes focussed on nothing—thin air—but that's not what they saw. Nothing wasn't what his ears heard. Nothing was not the fragrance his nose smelled.
"They have to see. They have to see," he leaned back in the chair and put his feet on the table once more, all the time staring towards the other chair.
"I told you, I think it's a mistake, but you do what you want to do, daddy."
"You have a lot to learn about being a leader, my queen. They need to fear you. They need to believe you are the only one who offers an answer, the only one worth following." Fries eyes flared as he spoke.
"And are you worth following, daddy?" she giggled, mocking him.
Fry jumped to his feet. He flung the cigar to the floor, and it disintegrated in a small explosion of fiery embers. He marched across the room and leant over the chair, his hands grasped the arms of it, his fingers curled around almost tearing the fabric. He spoke quietly, but with menace. "Remember your place, my love. Remember where we met. Remember who I am,"
He straightened up, still staring down at the chair, just as TJ walked into the room.
"Erm, are you ok?" There was no response. TJ moved closer. "Boss. Is everything alright?"
Fry looked towards TJ. He looked confused for a moment, but then the gears engaged. "Everything's fine, I...I thought I heard something, that's all."
TJ looked around the large open plan room. It had been deserted for some time. The smell of damp suggested it had been months at least since it was properly lived in.
"Could be mice, rats, anything."
"Yeah... rats," replied Fry.
TJ pulled out a map from his pocket and unfolded it. "We've established the two most likely places for a look-out team, he said pointing on the map. Fry looked, but there was no register of recognition on his face. "I've prepped the reccy squads. I'm sending a few of our best lads. I've told the other garrison to stay put. There'll be a watch in place for them too, but if we can capture at least one of the look-outs, we should be able to get the info we need to find the other." TJ spoke without feeling. There was no joy in the prospect of capturing and torturing someone for him, it was merely a means to an end. It was a means to bring this battle to a decisive close with a minimal amount of loss for his men. But the smile that crept onto Fry's face and into his eyes, sent a nervous shiver down TJ's spine.
"Good work. Keep me informed."
"They're dishing up outside, do you want me to get something brought into you?" asked TJ.
"I'm fine as I am," replied Fry, looking back towards the armchair in the corner of the room.
"Okay then, I'll let you know when there's something worth reporting," said TJ, keen to get out. As he walked down the hall, he heard Fry whispering, and an uneasy feeling came over TJ once again.
***
"I think Shaw's ankle is going to be fine. Raj is going to operate on him; he's got so much surgical experience, he makes most doctors look like amateurs. We've got Shaw doped up with painkillers at the moment so he's not feeling much. He told me what happened though, he told me how you saved his life."
"Meh," replied Mike who put his arm around Lucy to help fend off the night's chill.
Lucy smiled. "You can't kid a kidder, Mike. I know who you are deep down, remember."
They both sat on a rock, a few metres up from the blockade, looking out at the starlit landscape. She leaned her head onto his shoulder, and he kissed her. "When I was stuck in that kitchen, it was the thought of you that saved me. You and Em, and Sammy, and Jake. It feels like I've known you all my life, Luce. It feels like we were meant to be together."
Lucy leaned up and kissed him back. "Careful, Mikey, you're not becoming a fatalist on me, are you?" She pulled away and smiled at him, gently stroking his cheek.
"I'm not doing a good job at explaining..."
"It feels right," interrupted Lucy. "We're from different countries, different backgrounds, almost different generations, but this...you and me...it feels right. It feels good. The thing is, sweetie, you never know who you're going to fall in love with. You never know when it will happen, and when it does, you never have any control over it. You let it take you on a journey. We're just passengers, you and I, but there is no one else I would rather be sitting next to on this rollercoaster."
She edged closer and moved her lips to his. Their kiss lingered, and Mike closed his eyes, allowing himself just a moment of pleasure.
"Ahem," coughed Emma, "Budge up," she said to her brother, squeezing onto the rock next to him and breaking the romance in a split second.
"Why don't you join us? It's not like we were doing anything," he said.
"Okay then," she chuckled. Mike took hold of her hand, Lucy took hold of Mike's and the three of them sat in silence, looking out into the cold night.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Beth finished peeing and pulled up her jeans. She was annoyed at first that her companion had insisted on the campfire, but it was a cold night, and it was small and well covered, and grudgingly she had to admit, it made things a little more comfortable. As Beth stepped out of the thicket, she could tell something was wrong. The other lookout had vanished, and the rocks surrounding the flames had collapsed. She ran for her rifle, only to feel the wind knocked out of her by a hammer blow to the stomach. She doubled over and fell to her knees in pain. She saw feet kick earth and rubble over what remained of the fire, and felt her shoulders almost dislocate as two powerful figures dragged her to her feet. Beth tried to kick and struggle free but to no avail. With one last burst of effort she pulled her arm round, clutched the handset out of her breast pocket and squeezed the speak button.
"Let go of me, let go of me. Help, someone..."
One of the guards snatched the handset from her and pulled her fingers back making her squeal with pain.
"Try any more fucking tricks, and I'll snap them," he shouted.
They began to descend the steep hill. Beth was angry with herself, how had she let them get the upper hand? How had she not seen anything? The goggles. They were wearing army uniforms, they were wearing night vision goggles. These guys were pros. Shit, I've just killed us all, she said to herself.
Her feet occasionally hit the ground, but Beth was being carried by the two men like a feather in the wind. She kept catching glimpses of the other look-out. There was only the natural light of the stars to see by, but he looked unconscious. He was a burly figure and the men at either side of him seemed to be dragging him down the hill.
They eventually reached the road and one of the men brought out a small but powerful torch. Beth didn't know the specifics of Morse code, but it looked like that was what he used. A minute later, she heard an engine and a minibus came to a halt in front of them. They piled in and that's when the real enormity of what was going on hit her. She was never going to see Annie or John again. She would never see Barnes, or Emma, or Mike, or Lucy again. She was in a minibus travelling to...Hell. She had been saved from a nightmarish torture when she was imprisoned in that garage back in Leeds. She had been used time and time again by scum. It made her feel sick, it made her feel dead inside. Despite everything, things were starting to feel normal again, but now... Oh God please, no.
The journey seemed to take forever, but that was the nature of the roads in this part of the country. Highland roads were rarely straight. They followed the best paths nature would allow which usually meant twisty turns and turny twists. It's why Dead Man's pass was such a huge tactical advantage to the group. Without a helicopter, there was no way to ascend that road quickly, but some of that advantage would be lost if the enemy could make a surprise attack.
The minibus turned onto a farm track and immediately, Beth could see lights and campfires stretching some distance. This was a huge army; hundreds, maybe thousands. Buses and lorries, trucks and bikes lined the tracks. As the head lights wound up the road, she could see metal panels welded onto vehicles for protection against attack, just like she'd seen in Candleton. The minibus pulled up outside the large farmhouse. The guards she had been sat between, manhandled her to her feet and dragged her out. Just one guard pulled her unconscious companion out. He let go and the body thudded to the floor. In the subdued light she saw something shiny and black streaming down his temple. Was he dead?
She stood there, surrounded by threatening figures, all glaring towards her. Please let me die, God. Fear welled inside her. Death would be a better alternative than what she knew awaited her. The guards marched her towards the house. There was a generator chugging away by the front door and lights lit up the hallway and living room as they went inside. There was a smell of damp, but something else too. Death...decay...something. It felt unnatural, it felt...evil. What was it? The guards threw her down onto the sofa.
A man came in. "Where's the other one?" he asked.
"Didn't make it, TJ. He struggled too much, we didn't want him to give the game away and let her escape."
TJ nodded, "Fair enough. Fry will be down in a minute. You've done well lads. I'll make sure he knows."
Beth became light-headed. Fry, Fry, Fry.
The heavy footsteps moved across the landing and with each tread on the stairs, Beth felt a little sicker inside. She had met Fry once before. She knew then what kind of man he was. He chilled her very bones. Before, Mike had been there to save her, but now she was alone. She had never been more alone in her life, and as that same black-souled monster entered the room her knees trembled, and she began to stumble forward, only for the two guards to grab her and pull her back upright.
A booming laugh came from Fry's belly as he laid eyes on his new captive.
"Beth!" he yawped like greeting a long lost friend. "Beth, darling!" He was carrying a half full bottle of whiskey, he went to her, clasped her face in his giant right hand and gave her a huge kiss on the mouth. He didn't use his tongue, but his lips were wet, his whiskers were soaked with the smell of scotch, and Beth gagged, once again, her knees nearly buckled at the prospect of what awaited her. She was so terrified. She was so disgusted, but she would do her best not to show it. Scum like this fuelled themselves by shows of weakness.
