Carved in Stone: Monochrome Destiny (30 page)

The majestic old
building with its six windows, stared helplessly into the darkness. 
Within, the interior was ablaze.  Flames lit up the windows as the fiery
beast within consumed, leaving a blackened trail of destruction in its wake.

The
manor looked like a demon, screaming in pain as its last breaths were stolen by
the fire of hell.

Robyn
stood in the shadow of trees and watched the fire sashay and pirouette up the
heavy curtains.  Somewhere a window broke, feeding the flames as she heard
them roar to renewed life.  She smiled, wickedly, as she watched the
destruction of James’s precious home.  He’d taken lives to make his money
and buy his prized possessions and now Robyn had taken those possessions away.

It
had all started with a simple match, but the furnishings had soon burned and
the pyre now grew with every passing second.

When
flames burst through the roof and tongues of intense heat reaching for the sky,
Robyn turned and ran.  She was going to get Andrew.

When she got to
the cove, four cars littered the end of the lane and Robyn only recognised two
of them; Andrew’s and hers.  They were definitely here, somewhere.

Using
the vehicles for cover, she closed in on the cottage, her bare feet making no
sound on the gravel.  She should have been wincing in pain from the stones
underfoot, but cold and hundreds of cuts and scrapes had made her feet
numb.  She didn’t want to think about the damage she’d done to them,
running through town, steeling a bicycle and getting here as fast as she
could.  She only had one thing on her mind: Andrew.

The
house was in total darkness as Robyn leapt over the low front wall to crawl up
to the front window and rest beneath it, out of sight.  Her stomach
throbbed, making her catch her breath as her abdomen reminded her of James’s
less than caring hospitality.

Keeping
low, staying underneath the window, she made her way to the door.  It was
closed with no light escaping underneath to suggest that people were within,
but Robyn knew that there might well be evil in this house, living, breathing,
human
, evil.  James had Andrew, and Robyn intended to
get him back.  Just how she was going to achieve that she didn’t know, but
she could think of little else.

With
a steady hand she tried the handle and found the door unlocked.  It swung
inwards.

The
hall was dark.  She could make out the shadowy silhouette of the staircase
rising in front of her, but details were elusive until her eyes adjusted.

Creeping
in silence, aware that even the slightest noise in the quiet would give her
away, she entered the house.  Walking heel to ball, she made her way to
the lounge door to find it open.  The interior was silent, the room empty,
so she continued into the house to find the rest of the lower floor equally
vacant.  She was alone.

Ascending
the stairs, her heart pounding with every creek, she reached the top to find
that clothes still littered the floor by the bathroom.  It was a reminder
of their last night there. 

Robyn
stepped over the discarded apparel, and moved to the other doorways to check
the small house for signs of life.

She
was in the back bedroom when she heard voices drifting up from outside. 
She scurried to the front of the house and peeked out the window.

Three
men walked towards the house from the headland.  George was at the front,
his bulk unmistakable even in the dark.  The last time she’d seen him he
had been carrying Andrew, chair and all, out of James’s house.  David was
next and James followed closely behind, his phone to his ear.

“Well,
bloody make them get there faster,” he barked.  His tone was unsettled and
clearly panicked.  “I don’t care what you have to threaten them with, get
them here this instant.  Nothing could possibly be more important than
saving that house.”

The
fire was clearly no longer a secret and a warm satisfaction flowed through
Robyn’s veins as James ran to the large, black pick-up truck parked in front of
the house and dived into the passenger seat.

“Well,
get bloody moving will you,” he yelled at George, who was driving.

The
doors slammed as the engine started.

Robyn
was so focussed on the three men leaving that she almost missed Jane running up
the beach towards the other unfamiliar car.

As
the pick-up with its highly polished chrome trim gunned up the hill and out of
sight, Jane got into the small white hatchback and followed.

Robyn
realised that with the four gone, this was her chance.  Now she just had
to get to Andrew.

She
ran for her shoes as it was clear from the direction the four had emerged, that
they held Andrew at the crypt.  The cave on the beach was the entrance and
she knew that she needed her feet covered if she was to walk across that rocky
cove.  Whilst she was there, she grabbed her jeans then hurried downstairs
and headed for the lounge.

Robyn
needed a weapon, something to use against Sanger, who was probably now alone
with Andrew.  She discounted a knife, due to the proximity that she would
need to use it and instead went for the poker by the fireplace.  The poker
was long and had a barb on the end.  It made a good weapon.

As
she stepped into the room, she could make out very little but she dared not
turn on the light and make her presence known.  Her only hope was to catch
Sanger off guard.  She stretched out her hands, in case she misjudged
where she thought the furniture to be and made a hasty journey to the
hearth.  Halfway across the room she stepped in something oily and
slipped.  No amount of arm waving was going to save her from falling and
as her feet slid forwards, her body fell back.  Robyn braced for impact.

She
hit the floor hard, going down hip first onto her left side.  Pain once
again shot through her abdomen, buckling her up into a ball.  She gasped
and fought back tears and realised that whatever she had landed in was thick,
wet and sticky.  Panicked, Robyn tried to stand but she couldn’t find any
grip.  Whatever was spilled over the lounge floor had made a large puddle
that she had to crawl through to get to the edge.

As
Robyn crawled determinedly to the hearth, her palm fell on a solid, warm, hairy
skull.

Foaming breaks
crawled slowly up the beach as Robyn stood facing the entrance to the
cave.  Black against the grey rock, the cave held a flawless darkness that
was both uninviting and intimidating.

She
dared not use a torch or other implement to light her way, for surprise was her
only advantage.  Instead, she held the poker firmly in one outstretched
hand.

Finding
the dog, bleeding over the lounge floor, had made her want to run.  It was
so abhorrent to see an innocent animal mutilated like that, that she had wanted
to get herself to safety and find help.  But where could she go?  So
many people had entered the abattoir and so many faces had been obscured. 
The conspiracy was so widespread within the town that she didn’t dare trust
anyone.  Besides, the longer Sanger held Andrew, the more damage he could
do.

Robyn
stepped into the dark.

The
uncompromising blackness shrouded her as she shuffled her feet, trying not to
trip on any rocks.  She trailed one hand along the wall to guide her and
held the poker ready in the other.  The air quickly changed from crisp sea
breeze to stagnant musk.

Walking
further into the hillside, the background drone of the sea faded and Robyn
heard the rasp of her own breath above all else.  She prayed, as she
walked up the light incline to the church, that no-one else could hear her.

Even
in the dark, Robyn could tell when the sand became flagstone beneath her feet
and when rock walls turned to quarried stone.  She slowed.  She was
getting close to the door.  She took her last steps through the austere,
timeless rock, as unyielding as it was ancient, and finally felt wood beneath
her fingers.

Robyn
leaned forwards and pressed her ear to the door.

There
was movement on the other side, footsteps, and something grinding that she
could not place.  She heard no voices and prayed that she wasn’t too late,
but there was definitely someone inside the crypt.

Her
heart stepped up and raced even faster.  Sanger was beyond that door,
Robyn knew it, but so was Andrew.  So, even though her poker seemed
woefully inadequate against the Taser, she carried on.

Robyn
slipped back down the tunnel and crouched to run her hands over the
ground.  She found what she was looking for and returned to the door.

With
tremors shaking her entire body, Robyn backed herself into the hinges of the
door and then threw the boulder that she had picked up as far down the tunnel
as she could.  She raised the poker and waited.

The
rock hit the wall of the tunnel before bouncing onto the floor.  The noise
was a clamour in the silence and there was no way that Sanger wouldn’t hear it.

Sure
enough, the latch turned and the door opened, letting a gloomy glow leak into
the tunnel.

Robyn
slunk back into the shadow of the opening door and watched the twin barrels of
a shotgun thrust out into the dark passageway.  Her heart pounded as the
door swung back against her and the shotgun moved further out.  If Sanger
realised that the door was not swinging fully open and that someone was secreted
behind it, she was finished.

Douglas
Sanger stepped out of the crypt, shotgun to his shoulder, finger on the
trigger, ready to fire.  Robyn waited until he had stepped clear of the
door and then simultaneously surged forwards, shouldered the door out of her
way and, using all the strength she could find, swept the fire poker down to
hit him squarely on the head.

The
poker sank into Sanger’s skull with a dull, sickening,
thunk
. 
His body went limp, the shotgun dropped to the floor and clattered away and Sanger
nosedived to the ground.

Stunned,
Robyn waited, staring at the prone body on the ground in front of her. 
The dim glow from the partially open door fell across Sanger’s lifeless form,
but she was not fool enough to assume that he was dead.  Holding the poker
up once more, ready to defend herself with another blow if necessary, she
looked for signs of life.

Seconds
ticked by but Sanger didn’t move.  Robyn used the sharp end of the poker
to stab Sanger in the back of the leg.  Even if he was faking his
incapacity, she doubted that even the psychotic Doctor could have held a
convincing bluff against that pain, but he didn’t move.  He must be either
dead or unconscious.  Either way, he was no longer a threat.

Was
it wrong to feel elated that Sanger was possibly dead?  Probably, but
after all he’d done, she couldn’t find any remorse.

Robyn
ran into the crypt.

Candles,
thick and white, stood on the floor near the walls giving the room
illumination, but they weren’t the only source of light.  Two towers of
electrical equipment showed an array of digital readouts that glowed against
the darkness and from those towers various leads and tubes led down to the
stone sarcophagus, where Andrew was strapped, face down.  Robyn ran to
him.

He
was covered by a surgical sheet.  Only a large square on his lower back
was exposed.  Pen marks indicated the operation that was to take place.
Thankfully, the procedure had not started yet and there appeared to be no
wounds.

“Andrew?”

Robyn
crouched by his head to find him masked and unconscious.  No, not
unconscious: anaesthetized.

She
looked up in panic to the monitors and could see he had both a healthy pulse
and heart rate but she had no idea what most of the information meant. 
What she did know however, was that she had to get him out of there.

Dropping
her poker, Robyn unbuckled two leather straps that crossed over Andrews
back.  She then took off Velcro cuffs from both his hands and his
feet.  A tear slid from her eye as she imagined Kat strapped down here,
helpless while Sanger raped and tortured her.

When
Andrew was free from the restraints Robyn breathed in deeply and hoped that she
was doing the right thing.  She pulled the cannula that fed Andrew from a
drip bag out of his arm and she ripped off the leads that were placed
elsewhere.  The machines made a shrill noise.  She didn’t know how to
silence them so she sped up her rescue.  She found one more cannula and
removed it before taking off the mask.

Robyn
stilled, her fingers on Andrew’s pulse, and she heaved a huge sigh of relief as
his pulse remained steady.

Using
all the strength that she could muster, Robyn held Andrew under his arms and
dragged him off of the tomb, turning him over as his body fell to the
floor.  Wincing as pain seared through her stomach, she fell to the
ground, Andrew in her arms.  All around them the machines still let out
their screams and Robyn felt the urgency of their situation.  It wouldn’t
take James long to work out that Robyn had started the blaze.  He would
know that she’d come straight here and he’d be back.

Adrenaline
and stubborn resolve gave Robyn the strength to drag Andrew from the
room.  He weighed so much, deadweight as he was, but she couldn’t leave
him there and it was only a matter of time before the others returned. 
Inch by inch she dragged him from the chamber and into the long tunnel.

Sanger’s
body was still splayed where it had landed.  Robyn couldn’t be certain
that he was dead.  There was always the possibility that he was merely
unconscious.  So she dragged Andrew around the prostrate doctor as quickly
as she could.  It occurred to her only fleetingly that she should pick up
the shotgun, but there was no way she could carry it whilst dragging Andrew.

As
stone turned to sand, Robyn had to strain harder to shift Andrew’s dead weight
over the ground.  It was a long tunnel, too long.  With each inch,
her muscles shook from exertion and her stomach burned with pain.  She had
to rest a little between each tug and the next and all the while she kept
listening for any indication that the others had returned.  Would she have
enough time to drop Andrew and run for the shotgun if she heard them? 
Could she leave Andrew vulnerable like that?  Did she have any choice?

She
carried on like that, drag, rest, listen, drag, rest listen, for an age.

An
hour must have passed since Robyn had watched James and the others run up from
the beach and she knew they’d be back at any moment, but there was still so
much of the tunnel left to traverse.  Robyn heaved Andrew again and caught
her foot on the uneven ground.  She fell back, Andrew’s head landing on
her legs.  She cried out and grabbed her stomach in pain.  Andrew
moaned.

“Andrew?” 
Robyn leaned over and grabbed his face.  “Andrew?”

He
moved his head, moaned again. 

“Oh,
God, Andrew, come back to me.”  She clung to him as she clung to life.

A
hand lifted and grabbed hers.  “Robyn?”

“Yes,
it’s me.  Andrew wake up, wake up, we’ve got to get out of here.”

She
could hear his legs move on the sandy ground.  She could see nothing in the
dark but she felt him slowly twist and roll over, testing his strength before
his weight lifted off of her.

“Help
me, Robyn.  I’m still groggy.”

She
wrapped his arm around her shoulders and together they stumbled out onto the
beach; each step stronger, each step towards the house more purposeful.

“I
have to get the keys.”

Robyn
stopped and leaned on Andrew’s car.  She had nothing left.  “I’ll
wait here.”

Her
head swam, she just needed rest.

She
was slunk down and sitting on the ground when Andrew returned.

“Robyn?” 
He came to her side.

“Just
get me in the car.”

They
were nearly there, nearly.