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‘Thataway’ led us smack into the middle of Bilford Hill, the scene of one of the last major battles of the Fear Wars. A ruined wasteland of demolished homes, spilling over into a green sector. I didn’t need a GLS to find my way through this area, it was seared into my memory after that three day trip into hell twenty years ago. It was the last place on God’s earth I ever wanted to fucking revisit. But needs must and I didn’t want to use the mineshafts again unless it was necessary. Jenny stopped and lowered herself to the ground. I followed suit and crawled over to her side, she simply pointed and I sighed, more bloody trouble.
Three, no, four guys wearing robes and carrying automatic weapons, Revelation Readers at a guess but there were a number of cults in the area, some larger than other. Horace and Boris had split left and right and were making their way over in a pincer movement. The kids were proving quite useful. Jenny asked me,
‘Take them out?’
I shook my head and replied,
‘I’ve seen enough death in this area, if we’re careful, they’ll not see us. Anyhow, gunfire might alert others.’
Jenny watched my face for a moment, I had never spoken to her or Stella of the horrors I’d seen here. Or of the children I had killed, it was my own personal hell and I preferred to keep it that way. Jenny nodded,
‘Okay David, I’ll try and rein in the kids.’
The guardians, however, had already stopped and were crawling back over to us. The patrol walked away and eventually disappeared behind the ruins of what appeared to be a row of shops. We stayed still for about ten minutes, then slowly moved forward again and away from the direction the Readers had taken. As we dropped into a bomb crater, an AK47 opened up and dust kicked up where the rounds impacted. The Kalashnikov (AK47) has a very distinctive sound when firing, but I hadn’t realised any still existed. I threw Jenny to the ground, hit the ‘safety’ off my M20 and fired back. The buggers must have heard us and were waiting until we moved again. There was a scream, a clatter and I gave a grin, not of amusement or triumph just of how sometimes it’s so bloody ironic that the place I had fought all those years ago could now be my burial site. They had us pinned down and there was sod all we could do about it.
Unless, I shook my head, Jenny wouldn’t allow it, but perhaps we had no choice. I quickly sketched out my proposal to her. She went white,
‘No Morris, you…’
I grabbed her hands and mouthed,
“We can’t stay here, what other option is there?”
Jenny watched my mouth, pulled her hands away and nodded to the guardians,
‘Horace and Boris?’
I stared at them then pulled down the infra red sight. Scanned the ground beneath us, I stopped,
‘About a foot under, there’s a damn great hole, could be a cellar. Can they dig?’
Boris and Horace gave me a look of contempt and began clawing at the rubble, Jenny and I continued firing at the Readers’ position, more out of hope of keeping them busy than anything else.
Then I was careless, I poked my head of the edge of the crater. It looked as though they had either run out of ammo, probably weren’t carrying that much extra or…
They say traumatic events make the whole incident slow down. It’s true, I felt the round hit me, searing pain, turning slowly to see Jenny’s shocked face, her arms reached out, grabbed me, we both fell, carried on falling, everything went black.
------
In five hundred years time, most of us will be forgotten dust. But Hitler will still be remembered, God loves irony.
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Fear book 3 part 7
