Cold Fusion (25 page)

We paid for the delay as darkness fell. On my way to fix us some tea, I saw the glow of Alfred’s oil lamp. I filled the kettle, set it on the stove and turned back to Vivian, who had just asked me if we could manage to do it before the water boiled. I was fairly sure we could. An electric kettle would beat me hollow after the last few days, but like Aunt Lil’s stove, I was still capable of a slow burn.

I smiled into the dark eyes watching me over the arm of the sofa. “Only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

Off in the mist-wreathed dusk, Alfred’s lantern gleamed again. Had he walked in front of it? A steady light wouldn’t have snagged my attention. I went to the window, ignoring Viv’s grunt of frustration. The light went out. Before I could turn away, it reappeared.

The changes had come too quickly to be explained by the old man moving about his shelter, making ready for the night. I leaned my hands on the windowsill, breathing shallowly. I knew what was going to come next. A darkness and another gleam, both slow-paced, repeated twice more. Then three faster pulsations.

I knew my Morse, or at least a seaman’s basics. I threw a jacket on over my T-shirt and ran to grab the torch. Passing my hand across its beam, I signalled message received. “Viv,” I said urgently, “put out our lights and get dressed, quick.”

He was off the sofa in a heartbeat, all his languor gone. No matter how lousy our chances with the ladies in Rome, something profound had altered in him. He wanted life. He darted to blow out the candles we’d propped up in pebble-filled jam jars on the hearth. In the fire’s dull glow, he grabbed for his jeans and a jumper. “What’s wrong?”

“Alfred just signalled me a mayday from up at the croft. Either he’s in trouble, or—more likely—we are.”

He took it in quietly. If I’d been raising an army, I’d have recruited him on the spot, skinny and pale as he was. He was true steel. “Do you see any movement out the front?”

“Nothing. Anybody wanting to get near this place…”

“They’d have to come down through the woods at the back. Where’s your aunt’s rifle?”

“Back in the cupboard. Loaded and ready, extra cartridges on the shelf. But—”

“But nothing, Mallory. You can’t shoot. I can.”

“Fair enough. Our best bet’s to make a run for it, though, Rambo. You take a look out the back—carefully—and I’ll go see if I can get the car onto the drive.”

He nodded. “At least there’s nothing to pack, except…” He swept up my scrawled pile of papers, the story and song of our journey. I threw his jacket at him, and he thrust the pages into an inside pocket. “You be careful too. Meet you at the car in three minutes.”

There was no point. I made my way through the moon-cast shadows of the rowan trees and let myself into the Corsa, but three days in a snowdrift had soaked her through beyond redemption. I tried a clutch start, a gear start. Scrambled back out of her, took the handbrake off and gave her a shove that sent her rolling slowly down the track—caught up, flung myself back in and cranked her ignition one last time. Nothing. She ploughed onto the mud-soaked verge and stopped. The three minutes were almost up. No sign of Viv, so I abandoned my efforts and went to find him, my heart bumping hard beneath my throat.

The larches were silent, not the faintest breeze to breathe music through the black pines behind them. Clouds swallowed the moon, and I couldn’t see my hand in front of me.

“Viv,” I called softly, feeling my way up the track towards the wood store. The shed would make good cover. That’s where I’d have holed up in his place, and I thought I could detect the faintest warmth and stir in the air, a whisper-trace of pheromones. “Viv. You here?”

A strong grip fastened on my wrist and yanked me down. “Quiet.”

“What’s going on?”

“Did you have any luck with the car?”

“No. Total bust.”

“Then it looks like we’re fighting it out here.”

“Shit.” My eyes adjusted a bit. Viv was crouched like Enjolras at the Barricade, rifle resting easily across the top of the pile of cut logs. I knelt close to him so I could see what he was seeing—fought not to recoil in skin-crawling fright at the sweep of a torch beam through the trees. It crossed with another, then two more. “Bloody hell. There’s four of them at least.”

“Possibly five. I should be flattered by such a turnout, I suppose—unless
your
savage reputation has reached them.”

“Savage, my arse,” I growled. “What am I supposed to do? Chuck logs at them?”

“Let’s hope it won’t come to that. I need to let them get close.”

I was suddenly ashamed. Yes, the chances were slim that a group of lost tourists had started stumbling towards the lights of our cottage, but I’d have been ready to start firing away at them with no more questions asked. With a painful jolt I remembered Captain Folstad of the whaling ship
Halmøya
. I was back in my
Sea Hawk
cabin again, watching his weather-lined face while he spoke to me of children, and choice, and necessities.
You and I will never be friends, boy, but as the years turn, you maybe understand we’re not so different…
“Right,” I said shakily. “We should wait to be sure who they are.”

“It isn’t that. I just don’t have much range on this thing.” He glanced at me as if he’d read my qualms. “They’re not lost hill walkers, Mallory. Those are gun-mounted lights, not torches.”

“Oh, good.” A sense of total unreality drifted over me. “And there’s five of them at least, all armed?”

“And here we are with a pile of logs and your aunt’s flintlock. I don’t see that we have much choice.”

Nor did I. The cottage was secure, but I couldn’t make it siege proof. If we tried to run, they’d pick us off like hares in the snow as soon as we hit open ground. There was something indescribably eerie about watching the gun lights sweeping through the trees, closer and closer. I was trapped on a mountainside with the last man in the world who could harness the hidden energies inside the atom, staring down the throats of his executioners.

Well, so be it. I’d defend him down to the last chunk of wood I was able to throw. My fear dropped away. I understood now why Viv had faced the explosion at the lab with equanimity, why he’d looked on poor Lilian’s corpse with a kind of yearning envy. It was quite something—a weird, rare privilege—to see the thing that was going to take you out. To know it was coming right there and then. I didn’t want to die, and nor did he—I could see his renewed grip on life in the clasp of his beautiful hands around the gun—but here we were.

“Okay,” I said, taking up position at his shoulder. “Last stand it is.”

“I don’t suppose you’d allow me to hold them off while you tried to get clear?”

“Don’t bloody insult me.”

“I’m sorry. I love you, Mallory. Thank you for showing me how to do sex.”

That was all we had time for. I didn’t get the breath to tell him I loved him too. He knew it already, I prayed. A white beam strafed our hiding place, and a first shot rang out. It whipped over our heads and thudded into the timbers behind us.

Viv took down his man from what must have been the rifle’s absolute far range. I wanted to cheer and applaud. If we lived, and the cold fusion thing didn’t work out for him, I could take him on the road as a sharpshooter, giving lessons to wannabe snipers. We’d betrayed our lair, though, and the remaining four beams focussed. Viv fired again, then ducked down for a reload.

We were screwed. I handed him the next two cartridges, held my pen-knife torch so he could see, but no matter how fast he moved, the ancient gun was an awkward reload. By the time he snapped the barrel back into place, I could hear crunching feet in the snow. Shapes began to appear behind the lights—shoulders, balaclava-clad faces. I heard a roaring sound in the distance, but it blended too closely with the rush of the blood in my ears for me to pay it attention. My range was much worse than Viv’s, but I braced and crouched and got ready—like the caveman warrior I was—to chuck my first log.

“Vivian! My laird!”

I whipped round. Vivian went still as a fox. Barrelling past the corner of the house came a short, spare figure, visible only for a second in the moonlight. There was a brief commotion in the trees below us, and then Alfred exploded out of the branches. He had one rifle slung over his shoulder and a spare clutched in his hand.

“Here, laddie,” he gasped as soon as he clapped eyes on me. “I know you’re only a poor wee tree-hugger, but just do your best, will you?”

Viv was lining up his next shot. “Macready,” he said distantly, as if he’d come across him unexpectedly in the billiards room. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Saving your damn hide, if you’ll excuse me, your lairdship. Mallory, that’s loaded and ready to go. It’ll kick back hard, so don’t let it knock you on your arse.” He crouched beside Viv. “Ach, shite. There really is five of them.”

“Four. I’ve dealt with one already.”

“Well, good for you. We still cannae outgun them, not with game rifles. Mallory, I want you to take Vivian and retreat back to the far side of the house. I’ve brought my truck up as far as I can through the snow. I’ll give you covering fire.”

“Quiet, Macready! I am not a sack of potatoes to need to be taken anywhere.” Viv got off another shot, but the old man’s arrival had knocked his concentration, and all we got back was a barrage of returning fire. We had maybe thirty seconds before they were on top of us. “Having said that…” He dropped down for a reload, looking ruefully at us both. “A retreat does look like our best option. But we go together or not at all.”

Alfred put a hand down to him. “Quick, then—before they cut us off from the track.”

We ran for it. Viv could have outpaced both of us, but there was no way he was taking a step the old man couldn’t match. I in my turn tried to keep upfield of them both, a hopeless but willing human shield. Alfred saw through that one and dragged me back down, shoving me on my way, leaving me wondering which of us would die first through the others’ attempts at heroism.

The truck was waiting about fifty yards down the track. I stumbled, knee-deep in melting snow, and I caught Viv’s elbow to steady him through the drift. The warning rasp in his lungs sent a pang of fear through me, but then it was all I could do to keep both of us on our feet for the last downhill dash. I bundled Viv into the back of the car while Alfred ducked down by the wall. I hadn’t yet been called upon to fire my weapon, to send murderous lead through the air and into human flesh. I couldn’t even imagine it.
We’re not so different…
Folstad’s enemies were unemployment and want. Mine were right here in the snow with me, seeing our intentions and beginning a dash down through the rowans to intercept us. I too would do whatever I had to in order to defend my little corner of the world, the flesh and blood I held dear.

I dropped to my knees beside the old man. I took the best aim I could on one of the running figures.

“Is Vivian safe?” Alfred demanded.

“Yes. He’s in the truck.”

“Then stay here while I go and start her up.” He spared me a glance that went through to the back of my soul. “Fire high. Just make a noise and scare them, and keep your head low. Understood?”

He’d been right about the rifle’s kick. The stock whacked off my collarbone so hard with the first shot that I thought I’d broken it, and I did almost fall on my arse. I scrambled back, braced and did better with the second, aiming for the tops of the pines. I was crouched on the ground, trying for a clumsy reload, when the truck crunched to a halt beside me, spraying slush into my face. Alfred was behind the wheel, grinning like a demon in the glow from the dash. “What are ye waiting for, laddie? Climb aboard!”

Viv was holding the back door wide for me. I launched myself inside, into his arms. Alfred barked a heads-down warning as the Rover jerked forward. I covered Viv’s skull with one hand, and we both slithered down into the footwell just as a bullet shattered the rear window. The tyres bit into the icy grit—I was well placed to hear them, down on the truck’s uncarpeted floor—and we were away.

I clutched Viv’s hand in exultation. “Made it,” I gasped. “Gonna get you out of here.”

He nodded fervently. His eyes were too bright, his grip on my hand damp with sweat. “Alfred to the rescue,” he said, too low for the old man to hear, then raised his head, all imperious young laird, as the truck began to lose speed. “Get your foot down, man. Why are you slowing?”

“Because they’ve left their car in the gateway here, the bloody amateurs.” Alfred twisted round far enough to give him one excoriating look. “And as for you, young gentleman, it’s only your brains they’re after. Take care I don’t leave ’em behind for them on the road.” He jammed on the handbrake, and I risked watching through the broken window while he efficiently shot out both nearside tyres from a parked-up Toyota. “Now they can’t follow us. Is that satisfactory?”

Viv nodded. I didn’t think he could speak. “He says yes,” I said, getting hold of him and hoisting him up onto the seat. “Viv, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Just tired.”

I pulled him into my arms. He fought me for a second then surrendered, folding down over my lap. I put my ear to his back and heard that dreadful drowning scrape as he breathed in. “Are you in trouble, love?”

“Tell Alfred…get us out of here, and then stop. Please.”

I laid a hand to the old man’s tweed-clad shoulder, preventing myself with an effort from grasping at it in fear. “Mr. Macready? Viv says…can you get us out of harm’s reach, and then stop the truck?”

“Why, he this very minute told me to…”

“I know. But please.”

Alfred caught my alarm. I saw it in the way he stopped crashing the truck through every rut and ice-filled hole in the road and began to pick a smoother path, as if he’d been told he was carrying glass. We reached the single-track that led out of the valley, and he checked his rearview. Here we could go a bit faster. I held Viv harder, steadying him, willing my strength into him, and I watched the sheltering hills where I’d fallen in love with him fall away to both sides of us, revealing an immensity of star-prickled sky. Far away across the North Sea, a faint green shimmer was presaging dawn. I couldn’t believe in it, couldn’t believe I’d ever again stand in the sun. Alfred found a layby and steered the truck into it, this time stopping with exquisite care.