Hurst by Robin Crumby (i read books .TXT) 📕

two guards, acutely aware that he might lose his grip on the tailgate and topple sideways at any moment.

“You two. Lay down your weapons and back away. No one needs to get hurt here,” said Zed, his voice thin but authoritative.

Sister Theodora stared back at Zed, motionless. With a heavy sigh, she conceded defeat, signalling for the guards to lay their rifles on the ground and take two steps back.

“You have our word that none of us had anything to do with the fire,” continued Zed. “Anyone who believes otherwise is even crazier than I thought.”

He adjusted his grip on the tailgate and nearly fell before recovering. Mila hurried over and slid a supporting shoulder under his arm, taking the gun from his shaking hand. She tilted her head and peered down the barrel, training the sights on the two sisters, who shifted uneasily, their hands half-raised in alarm.

“What’s going to happen next,” confirmed Zed confidently, “is that we are all going to get in our car, drive right out of here and you’re not going to try to do anything to stop us. Are we clear?”

There was silence.

Zed repeated, inclining his head, “Are we clear?”

“We are clear,” echoed Sister Theodora. “May God have mercy on you for what you what you have done. All of you have blood on your hands. All of you.”

“You can believe what you like. It doesn’t make it true,” said Riley defiantly.

Riley climbed into the driver’s seat and inserted the key in the ignition, looking back at Zed and Mila in the rear-view mirror, just standing there, showing no signs of moving. Mila let out a deep sigh, like she had been holding her breath all this time and lowered the shotgun towards the ground. Mila motioned towards Stella. “You staying or coming with us?”

Stella was still nursing her cheek, where the guard had struck her, tears streaming down her face. She studied Adele’s and Riley’s imploring looks from inside the vehicle, forcing a smile. “Thanks, but this is my home now.”

Sister Mel put an arm around Stella’s shoulders, squeezing her tighter in a show of solidarity. Mila clambered into the vehicle and slammed the rear passenger door, resting the shotgun on the open window, pointing over the heads of the group. Riley started the Land Rover’s engine, which coughed into life, its exhaust rattling, wheezing a little before finding its rhythm.

“Perhaps one of you would be good enough to get that truck out of my way,” shouted Riley over the noise of the engine.

The guard hurried inside to find the keys to the truck hanging on a hook behind the front desk. As she walked down the gravel driveway, the Land Rover kept pace, rolling a few yards behind her, back towards the front gate, its two pillars with ornamental lions mounted either side.

The guard reached up for the handle and heaved herself up into the cab. With a plume of diesel smoke from its roof mounted exhaust, the truck roared into life. Inside they could see the driver fighting with the gear stick to get the lumbering beast into reverse, before lurching slowly backwards. She revved the engine impatiently, allowing just enough space for them to drive out and on to the main road beyond, before rolling back into place.

Just before the gap closed behind them, Zed glimpsed Stella’s lone arm raised in farewell in the rear-view mirror, and then she was gone. He had a bad feeling it wasn’t the last time they would tangle with the Sisterhood.

Chapter Fifty-four

It was less than five miles back to Hurst from the hotel, but the roads were virtually impassable, clogged with abandoned cars. The traffic backed up all the way from the roundabout on the edge of town along the coastal road they were attempting to navigate. They had no choice but to detour around obstacles, onto pavements, grass verges, through people’s front gardens, even smash through a garden fence. In doing so, they managed to hook a children’s climbing frame, wrapping the ladder around their front grill. They had to stop to prevent it from jamming in the front wheel arch. They used any means they could to pass the blockages that littered the roadway.

In a couple of places, they had to nudge other vehicles out of the way, or get out and push them by hand. Riley had grown desensitised to the sight of death. It was all around them. She thought nothing of pulling corpses from vehicles, of wrenching victim’s hands that still gripped steering wheels, or heads resting against dashboards. She no longer felt squeamish, or was it just fatigue? Cumulative tiredness played tricks on the mind. She reached over a body to release the hand brake and steer a two-seater sports car out of their way, as Mila pushed from behind.

After a couple of hours, they caught their first glimpse of the sea. Milford beach stretched out to the east of them with the Needles rocks and island beyond. Riley was still troubled by what Stella’s friend had told her. She had been very clear. She had seen smoke rising from Hurst Castle. However unlikely, that’s what she said. Why would she lie?

Visible from that distance, it had to be more than just a campfire or burning rubbish. It sounded like a proper fire that had got completely out of control. She imagined the widespread panic, the plans and preparations they had made for exactly this eventuality. They had stored fire hoses in the lighthouse for pumping water from the dock back into the castle and placed buckets of sand near doorways and access points around the camp. They were as prepared as they could be, so she was still wondering how a fire could have taken hold. Just thinking about fires brought back memories of the previous night when she put her life on the line to save Zed. The pain in her hand was a living link. She cradled her left wrist, still bandaged, pinching the dressing to relieve the pressure on the watery blisters that were painful to the touch.

They drove on through Milford village, each of them fearing the worst. Riley leaned forward in her seat, anticipation growing as they drew closer to home, her imagination running riot, giving voice to her fears. As they reached the end of the road and the last of the buildings at the far edge of town, they screeched to a halt.

Ahead of them was a dirt track that hugged the start of the raised man-made sea defences and shingle spit. To their left was what remained of a caravan park, half flooded and storm damaged. Ploughed fields lay beyond. In the corner of the field, sitting next to a broken wooden fence, a yellow tractor stood idle and abandoned beneath a cluster of trees. Riley engaged first gear and they continued the last leg of their journey along the dirt track towards the castle.

There it was in the distance, across the estuary and tidal waters. There was little sign of smoke now, in fact, nothing that suggested anything untoward. Riley picked up the pace, pumping the accelerator and bumping over the many potholes, deep groves and dips, where the dirt track was waterlogged.

They reached the end of the track and ascended the steep incline in low gear, slipping and sliding until they crested the top of the shingle bank and the vehicle levelled out again. The view over Christchurch Bay was spectacular, the island glinting in the morning sun.

Riley braked hard, scattering stones in front of the car. She could barely believe her eyes. She reached across Zed, fumbling in the glove compartment for the binoculars. It took a couple of seconds for her eyes to adjust and find what she was looking for. Far out to sea was a ship. It was definitely military, a navy frigate or destroyer, she couldn’t tell from this distance.

“A ship?” asked Zed, peering into the distance, following the line of her binoculars at the indistinct grey shape on the horizon.

“Definitely not a steamer or container ship. Could be a warship,” suggested Riley.

“Is it one of ours?”

“Hard to tell but it’s definitely heading this way.”

Riley handed the binoculars to Zed and shifted the Land Rover back into gear. She accelerated hard, showering the underside of the car with pebbles and loose shingle. There was now an added urgency to get to where they were going. Zed panned the binoculars towards Hurst and pointed out that there was no lookout on the castle walls. That was unusual. Riley made a mental note to have strong words with whoever was on guard duty that morning.

Where was everyone? The whole place looked deserted. The closer they got, the more worried they became that something terrible had happened in their absence. Riley cursed herself for being away too long.

Rounding the western edge of the fortifications, they headed down the short slope going too fast. Riley jammed on the brakes and the car slid to a halt outside the main entrance to the castle. All four doors flew open as the group emerged, alert and ready. In front of them was the blast hole in the drawbridge. They could see wisps of smoke caressing the leading edge of the stone walls, before dissipating on the morning breeze. To the right of the entrance, high up on the old grey stone walls, mottled with black lichen, someone had spray-painted a tag in blood-red graffiti. Stylised letters a metre high spelt the word: “Hurts”.

Mila held her hand over her mouth, slowly taking in the scorch marks from the explosion at the front entrance and trying to make sense of the graffiti. “Who would have done this?”

Adele spelt out the letters aloud, one by one. “What does it mean, Zed?”

“It means someone has a sick sense of humour.”

Riley opened the tailgate and unloaded their weapons. She slid a pistol into her belt and rammed two shells into each barrel of the cocked shotgun. “You don’t think that the guys from the hospital had anything to do with this?”

“It’s possible they came looking for us.” Zed stood scratching his beard, angling his head to the side. “Don’t take any chances.” He sniffed. “They could still be here. Mila and Riley, you two head inside and see what you can find out. Be careful, yeah? Adele, you stay here with me.”

Riley clambered through the blast hole and tiptoed through the covered entrance, staying close to the wall, making no sound. It was eerily quiet inside. She closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. Mila was right behind her. Very slowly, they both peered around the corner to take a look at what lay beyond. Inside, bodies littered the courtyard. Mila gasped, her eyes flicking from one body to the next, before recognising one of the faces furthest from her: “Oh no, please.”

Riley heard voices close by and froze, gesturing Mila back against the wall, weapons raised trembling in front of them. She listened carefully, straining to hear, before recognising Tommy’s voice. She called out to him, warning the defenders not to shoot. Nathan and Liz hurried out to meet them.

“My God, where have you all been? We thought you were dead,” said Nathan, wide-eyed in disbelief.

“It’s a long story. What the hell happened here?” asked Riley.

“We were attacked by the group from the hospital,” said Nathan.

“My God,” she gasped, realising the chain of events they had set in motion several days before. “But how did they get in? What about the guards?” Riley had a dozen questions crowding each other out.

“They came in the dead of night. Used climbing gear to get over the walls at the back. Once they were inside they blew open the front gates. There was another group waiting outside. There were too many of them. We mounted a last stand at the Gun Tower. It was bad, Riley. It was a bloodbath for the guys in the west wing.”

Liz took over and explained