The Recollection (20 page)
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The gun felt cold and heavy. His feet squelched wetly. The sun-dried grass beneath his knees smelled like hay.
Beyond the rise, another shot.
Still on one knee, favouring her injured leg, Kristin readied her weapon, covering the skyline.
“Stay low,” she said, “and try to cover me.”
She squirmed forward on her elbows. Ed watched her go, holding the stolen pistol awkwardly, unsure exactly what to do with it. There was nothing to point it at, so he held it loosely, ready to swing it towards Krous if the man appeared over the hill.
Ripples in the water made him glance back, into the marsh. Three or four of the creatures now slithered through the water, getting closer and closer without directly approaching the bank, like sharks circling before an attack. He got the impression of large, otter-like creatures swathed in muddy grey fur. Their claws flashed in the sunlight.
“Kristin—”
“Shush!”
The American woman had her gun raised. He followed her aim and saw a figure with auburn hair, partially-silhouetted against the sky, pushing her way through the long grass at the top of the rise. His heart leapt.
“Alice!”
Scrambling to his feet, he saw her turn in his direction.
“Ed?” She stopped in her tracks. “Ed, get away from the water!”
With a flick of its tail, one of the creatures leapt from the swamp. It landed, crouched and snarling, on the bank, ready to spring again. Ed saw six legs, powerful shoulders, a muscular tail and sleek, black fur. He scrambled backwards up the slope. The creature took a step after him. It was the size of a Doberman, with the body of an otter and the claws of a velociraptor. Wicked yellow teeth glittered from its wide mouth.
“Kristin...”
Six limbs tensed. Yellow eyes glowered like hungry embers, and saliva dripped from the open jaws. Without a word, Kristin turned and snapped her arm up. Before the animal could pounce, she put three bullets through its face. Then, with her good leg, she sent its twitching body rolling back into the marsh, where three of its brethren set upon it, tails lashing the water to bloody froth.
“Come on.” She started to limp towards Alice. Ed scrambled after her, covering her back. Two further creatures crawled onto the bank, and he waved his gun at them.
“We need to go faster,” he said, taking her elbow.
By the time they reached the top of the hill, there were six of the otter-like creatures slinking behind them through the long yellow grass. Alice ran to him and he caught her in his arms. Her eyes were wild, her hair and clothes lank with sweat.
“Oh, Ed, I thought I’d lost you.” She kissed him hard, her dry lips crushing his.
“Krous told me you were dead,” she said, between kisses. “He said we should head for the other arch. I didn’t want to go, but he made me.”
Kristin scanned the grassy plain between the rise they were on and the arches, which stood atop an outcrop of shattered rock much like the one where they’d lost the Land Rover. “Where is he now?”
Alice turned to her. “He’s holed up in the boulders near the arch. There are more of those—”
The grass rippled behind her. One of the horrors flung itself at her, and she went down into the grass with a scream, knocked off her feet. Ed tried to kick the animal in the side of the head, but it snapped vicious teeth at his foot.
“Shoot it!” Kristin barked. It was an order. Obeying without stopping to think, Ed jammed his gun into the creature’s midsection and pulled the trigger. The recoil jarred his arm. The animal yelped and fell. It lay flapping and keening, trying to curl around the gory hole punched in its side. Its jaws gnashed. Blood sprayed from its mouth.
Ed helped Alice to her feet. Her arms and chest had been clawed. Her t-shirt gaped raggedly. Blood ran down her arms and dripped from her fingers.
“Kristin, get me the first aid kit.”
“There’s no time.” The American woman pointed down the slope. Grass stalks twitched in several places. The rest of the pack was closing in.
“We’re exposed. We need cover.”
“Let’s head for the arches.”
Alice hesitated. “But Krous—”
Kristin cut her off. “Later.”
Ed ducked under Kristin’s arm, taking her weight. He took Kristin’s gun and passed it to Alice.
“Keep watch behind us. Shoot anything that moves.”
Painfully, they limped across the plain, staying out of the long grass as much as possible. Three times, Alice stopped and fired at the shapes skulking in their wake. The recoil of the gun hurt her wrists. Even so, by the time they reached the rocks of the shattered tor, she was out of bullets, and Kristin had taken a turn for the worse. The strain of hobbling across open ground with a twisted ankle had exhausted her; she could barely stand upright without support. Desperately, Ed and Alice pushed and pulled her up towards the arches, taking it in turns to support her over the treacherous rocks. They were all sweating heavily. Alice’s wounds were still bleeding. Above, the two purple arches they strove for stood like impassive megaliths against the skyline. Below, five or six of the otter-raptors circled in the grass, nerving themselves to break cover and attack. One after another, they raised themselves up on their four hind paws, and snapped the air before falling back.
What am I doing here?
Ed thought.
Yesterday evening he’d been settling down for a night in front of the TV, and now here he was facing something that looked like the bastard spawn of an otter and a pit bull terrier, with the teeth and social graces of a piranha. He’d once been cornered by a pair of Alsatians in the concrete front yard of a terraced house in Acton. He’d been trying to collect a fare, but had been forced instead to take refuge on the lid of a plastic wheelie bin while the big dogs growled back and forth, teeth bared, ready to maul him if he tried to run. Then, he’d been saved by the arrival of the dog’s owner. This time he wouldn’t be so fortunate. Right now, his only thought was to get himself, Alice and Kristin to the arches before the animals below worked up the courage to abandon the shelter of the grasslands and scramble up the rock after them.
Looking back across the undulating plain, he saw the arch which had brought them to this planet and, wedged below it, a reflected glint of sunlight from the starred windscreen of the trapped Land Rover.
“Nearly there,” Alice gasped.
Ed looked up to find they were a few paces from the nearest arch. When he looked back down the slope, he saw two of the raptors advancing purposefully. They kept low to the ground like stalking cats. Their tails flicked and twitched.
“Come on,” he said. Muscles straining against their own weight, he gave Kristin an extra push, and watched her scramble to the base of the arch. She held her hand out to him.
Behind her, Otto Krous stepped from behind an arch, where he’d been crouched, watching their ascent. His peeling, sunburned face bore livid scratches. Part of his moustache had been torn loose. He’d used a handkerchief to bandage his left hand, and there were bloody gouges on his right leg, where sharp claws had ripped through the fabric of his black combat trousers.
He glanced at Ed and Alice, and then turned his attention to Kristin.
“Lieutenant Cole,” he said, lip curling. He bent over and yanked the white-haired woman one-handed to her feet. He seemed to have either lost or discarded the shotgun, but still clutched the machine pistol.
“You don’t know when to give up, do you, sir?”
Obviously irritated, Kristin slapped his hand away. “At ease, soldier.”
Krous sneered. He pushed his face into hers. “You don’t get to give me orders any more,
sir
.”
He shoved her in the chest and she fell back, landing heavily on her backside.
Ed stood up. “Hey!”
Krous ignored him. He raised the machine pistol and fired a burst into Kristin’s torso. The noise made Ed flinch. Kristin jerked as the shots hit her, blood splattering in the sunlight, shockingly red. For a frozen second, nobody moved. Then, even as the shots still echoed across the plain below, Ed’s feet were pushing him over the rocks, his hands grasping for the other man’s throat. Krous saw him coming, but Ed caught him off balance and he couldn’t turn the gun in time. Ed crashed into him and they fell, past the arch and down the slope on the far side, with Ed on top as they hit the ground. Loose stones and gravel skittered down around them.
Ed lay winded for a moment, sucking in air. He’d fallen heavily, pulled down by the planet’s unfamiliar gravitational pull. His legs hurt where he’d barked them on the rough ground. His pulse hammered in his head.
As quickly as he could, he scrambled to his knees and punched Krous in the face. Pain seared in his knuckles, but he ignored it, punching again and again. He had a fury in him. Beneath his blows, Krous groaned and jerked. Since passing through the first arch, Ed had been improvising, reacting instead of acting, overawed by his alien surroundings. Now, he was asserting himself for the first time. He was taking control. All his pain and fear were funnelled into this moment. He brought his fist down and felt Krous’s nose give with a sickening crack. Another blow to the man’s jaw. Then Alice had his arm.
“Ed, get up,” she said. Below, the grass rustled and swayed. Ed’s pulse battered in his ears. His right hand felt bruised and broken. The knuckles were already swelling. Alice dragged him back up towards the arch.
Raptors lay in wait at the summit. Their haunches quivered, ready to pounce. Ed gave Alice a shove toward the arch.
“Go,” he said.
She stepped through, and disappeared. Ed looked down the slope but Krous was nowhere to be seen. Warily, he backed towards the arch, keeping an eye on the approaching animals. One of them paused to sniff Kristin’s boot. Her corpse lay spread-eagled and alone, eyes and mouth open to the sky, chest tattered and bloody, peroxide hair shining clean and white in the light of the sun. As Ed watched, the creature started worrying the leather of her boot with its teeth, shaking its head from side-to-side. Its companion slunk over to join it, sniffing at a patch of spilled blood.
Still walking backwards into the arch, Ed opened his mouth to shout at the hungry, inquisitive creatures; to chase them from her; but the white light took him before he could make a sound.
From: [email protected]
Dear Ed,
This will have to be a quick note. I left Verne at the hotel. I told him I was going for a run, and he’ll be worried if I’m not back soon.
I think you’d like Barcelona. It’s nice here. It’s a very artistic sort of city, especially around the old gothic quarter. Lots of old buildings and narrow streets. Very picturesque. Just your kind of thing. I’ve taken loads of photos.
I’m writing from an internet café on La Rambla, opposite the Museu de l’Erotica. Everything smells of car fumes, garlic and cigarettes. From where I’m sitting, I can see stalls in the middle of the street selling caged chickens, budgies, baby rabbits and parakeets. At the end of the street is a square called the Placa de Catalunya, and our hotel.
When I’ve finished this email, I’m going to meet Verne for a late breakfast at a restaurant on the Vila de Madrid. We ate there last night, I had ravioli with lamb, pine nuts and mint (which was delicious, BTW). Then we’re going to take a look at the Sagrada Familia.
I think this break is just what he needs. He hasn’t been quite the same since he came back from Somalia, and this is the first time in months that I’ve seen him relax. Getting away like this could be just what he needs to perk him up.
And I guess that brings us around to the real reason I’m writing this email.
Ed, I want to make my marriage work. I have to try. And I can’t do that with you distracting me. We have to stop seeing each other, immediately.
Hopefully this fortnight in Spain will give us both the space to look at our situations objectively. We need clarity to make adult decisions. We can’t go on the way we have been. It’s not fair to either of us, and it certainly isn’t fair to Verne. He’s your brother and my husband. We owe it to him to put an end to all the deception, before he gets hurt. From now on, we will simply be in-laws, and I hope we can be civil to one another at family occasions. Beyond that, we must not see each other. I must be a good wife and you must try to be a good brother. We must forget that we ever had feelings for each other. We must forget we were ever in love.
I’m sorry if this sounds heartless, but I must be firm with myself as well as with you.
Please don’t call, text or reply to this email. It is for the best. I hope you understand.
With regret,
Alice
x
PART TWO
UNDER A BLOOD RED SKY