Carved in Stone: Monochrome Destiny (32 page)

One
after the other, two men ran out of the door.  The first knocked Robyn
flat with a hard shove and then dived at Andrew.  Tall, heavy set, built
like a tank, George took Andrew down as Robyn hit the concrete, hard.  It
took the last strength that she had to keep her head from hitting the
ground.  She then lost track of Andrew as her attention was taken by the
second man coming out of the darkened doorway.  David Rowe stepped out
with a wicked looking, oversized, spanner raised high above his head.

Laid
flat on her back, Robyn could hear the struggle between George and Andrew, but
she couldn’t avert her gaze from David.  She tried to get up, but David
stood over her with his makeshift club.  She turned to the fight.

In
the shadows, Andrew and George rolled on the ground.  She could hear
punches when they struck and grunts and groans but all she could see was a mass
of errant legs and limbs that she couldn’t assign to a particular body.

George
called out, a pained cry, making David turn to assist.  He stepped to the
two men, holding his spanner high, no doubt intent on helping his friend.

Wasting
no time, Robyn got up.  She couldn’t let David get to Andrew and use that
weapon.  She had to take him down somehow and give Andrew a fighting
chance against George.

Unfortunately,
she didn’t get to take a step, for as soon as she stood upright a fist grabbed
her hair, pulled her head back and shoved what she knew to be the stun gun into
her neck.

“Stay
out of it,” Jane whispered in her ear, “I want to watch this and you will not
get in the way.”

Robyn
hadn’t looked to see if anyone else had been hiding in the shack.  She
hadn’t thought that three people could fit in there, but Jane had lain in wait,
biding her time.  She now had Robyn caught by a thin arm and the threat of
electricity pulsing through her skin.  Robyn stood stiff in her grasp and
watched helplessly as Andrew fought George.

“I
like to watch them fight, to attempt to live.  It’s thrilling don’t you
think?”  It was like listening to a toddler, but her joyous and innocent
tone was a lie.

“Do
you really want to know what I think?”  Robyn tried to turn to face her
but Jane pressed the prongs of the stun gun hard against her skin. 
Grimacing, Robyn finished.  “I think you’re one brick short of a load!
Fucking nuts!”
  Her temper surged, she couldn’t help it
but it was better than the immobility of fear.

Jane
laughed, loud and deep in Robyn’s ear.  “Christ teachers are a meddling
bunch, all of you.  I’m going to like watching you die.”

Links
suddenly formed in Robyn’s brain. 
“Mr Maine?”
 
The history teacher Andrew had taken over from, the one who had been killed in
a car accident.

She
giggled, “He actually phoned the hospital to check on a pupil, fool.  We
couldn’t have him investigating why she wasn’t taken to be checked over now
could we?”

Christ,
he’d been killed because he cared.  “You caused the crash.”  They’d
done something to the car to make it catch fire as well no doubt.

“It
was easy really.  He was going way too fast.  You should have seen
him.”  She giggled.

“How
will you explain my disappearance?  I’m not in a car.”  Rage was
bubbling but it kept her coherent.  She needed the anger to give her
strength.  All she needed now was opportunity.

“Oh, poor Robyn.
 
You?
  Well, you’ll commit suicide, won’t you?”

Robyn
tried to wrestle from Jane’s grip but she was stronger than she looked and the
threat of the stun gun didn’t help.

“Poor
little Robyn. 
Parents
dead, best friend
gone.  I mean you’ve been acting so strangely of late haven’t you, and
with your history, well, it’s all gotten to be too much.”

Jane’s
voice stabbed each word into Robyn and she could see the easy truth of it, the
facts giving evidence to support the story.  Sanger’s access to her
medical records had given them all the information they needed to make her
suicide plausible.

“That
wouldn’t explain the wounds from the harvesting needle.”  She spoke, as
she gently backed Jane towards the wall of the shack behind them.

“Oh,
I think your suicide will be too messy to find those. 
Perhaps
a drive into a wall.
  You like that little car so and everybody
knows how you drive.  It would probably catch fire too, the speed you like
to go.”  Damn that karting trip. “Or maybe you would swan dive off of the
cliff.  The rocks would batter you enough to cover the entry sites and
your body could be in the water a long time before it’s found.”

Robyn
watched desperately as David sidestepped left, then right.  He was trying
to get a clear shot at Andrew but the two men on the ground moved so quickly
that he couldn’t find it.  With a sudden jerk, David brought down the
spanner.  It was nearly two foot long and clanged into the ground sending
chips of concrete flying.

“No,”
Robyn screamed.  There was little point keeping quiet now, they were
caught.

Jane
rammed the prongs of the Taser into Robyn’s skin and she yelped.  She
could feel blood running down her neck but Jane hadn’t pulled the trigger,
yet.  Robyn took shallow breaths and used Jane’s momentary distraction to
manoeuvre her further towards the wall.

The
fight continued and no-one came to interfere despite the noise.  Not that
Robyn wanted them to.  She fully expected any people who intervened to be
on their captor’s side.  No-one in
Porthmollek
would be helping them.  They were on their own.

David
lifted the spanner once again, intent on connecting with his target this
time.  As Robyn watched the heavy tool rise into the air, she knew time
was running out.

Simultaneously,
Robyn snapped her head back and drove her right elbow backwards.  Her head
connected with Jane’s nose and she felt it give against the back of her
skull.  Robyn heard the snap of bone as it broke and then the thud as
Jane’s head reared back and connected with the wall behind her.  Before
Jane could let out a scream and before she could press down on the button and
stop Robyn with a jolt of electricity, Robyn’s elbow smashed into her
stomach.  Jane expelled air in a great puff and she doubled over in pain,
dropping the stun gun.  Robyn turned to see blood trickling down Jane’s
nose as she held both arms across her stomach.  Jane was struggling for
breath but Robyn found no compassion.  Jane only filled her with
disgust.  Robyn brought her right arm back and punched Jane, full force,
in the face.

Jane
went down, sliding down the wall until she sat, ragdoll-like and unconscious.

Turning,
rage flowing through her veins, Robyn grabbed the stun gun off of the
floor.  David Rowe once again brought the spanner down.  She was too
late to stop the blow, but Andrew saw it coming and quickly moved his head from
its path.  Without hesitation, Robyn jumped onto David’s back and, before
he could shrug her off, she drove the stun gun into the skin of his neck and
pushed the trigger button.  David jerked as the high voltage engulfed
him.  His back arched, throwing back his head on straining neck muscles
and Robyn was thrown from his back as the spanner dropped from his hand.

Robyn
was glad to be thrown clear.  The electricity had zapped her where she
touched David.  It was only an echo of what he had suffered, of what Andrew
had suffered, but it brought searing agony.  When she hit the ground, the
pain diminished but her muscles were unable to move and she lay staring at the
sky.

David
collapsed to the ground, the voltage having stopped his legs from functioning
and now, on hands and knees, he stayed very still, awaiting the effects to wear
off.

Andrew stared at
Robyn, unmoving, whilst George pummelled him in the chest.  She’d been hit
by the bloody voltage, he knew it.  The pain that thing caused was
indescribable and he wished she hadn’t felt the need to bring David down. 
In truth, he’d had this fight all along.  George Downing was a big
man.  He came from a long line of hard working men and wasn’t the kind to
run the abattoir from behind a desk.  But Andrew was stronger, and
faster.  Desperate to get to Robyn, who lay unmoving on the concrete,
staring at him, he grabbed George, rolled until the man was underneath him and
let his fist fly freely.  He connected squarely with George’s jaw and
George went limp.

He
ran to Robyn and took her hand.

“Robyn,
are you alright?”

“Uh, yes.
  I think
so.” He pulled her to a standing position but she was still shaky. “That hurt.”

“Yeah,
it would.”   He’d felt that particular pain enough for one lifetime.

He
pulled Robyn towards the shack and paused briefly at the sprawled mass of an
unconscious Jane.  “Nice,” he stated as he walked past, squeezing Robyn’s
hand.  Jane’s face was a mess.  But then, so was Robyn’s.

Inside
the shack, Andrew moved to the control panel underneath the window.  It
was a simple enough procedure to get the gate to go down, especially as the
keys appeared to have been left in the panel.  He turned both, watched the
lights come on and hit the button.  That was it.

The
sound of the machinery beginning to move was comforting, but it left them
little time.

“Come
on,” Andrew grabbed Robyn’s hand and pulled her to the already tilting walkway.

They
jumped onto the gate at a run as the top slowly tilted.  The whole gate
would eventually pivot down into the water.  Grabbing the low rail to stop
slipping and falling into the murky depths, they made it across.

Andrew
wasted no time lifting Robyn up onto the boat.  The tide was already too
low.

Robyn looked
back as Andrew lifted her to the deck.  George and Jane still lay sprawled
where they had left them.  There was no sign that either would be moving
for a while.  David on the other hand, had recovered from his brief
electrocution and was walking away.

The
gate continued to make slow progress, steadily dipping down into the sea and
the tide continued to flow out.

Andrew
moved adeptly, untying them from the harbour and getting the boat ready to
sail.  Robyn had no idea how to help and stayed out of the way. 
Jumping down into the small dip that had housed her the last time they took the
boat out, she intended to sit where she had before but she stood up to watch
Andrew’s stealth as he moved across the bow.

The
sun was coming up, the sails glowing white as the rays began to hit their very
tips and all Robyn could think was how very beautiful this vessel was.  It
was a lovely boat the best of times, but the fact that she would now provide
their means of escape made her even more stunning.  As Robyn perused the
sleek lines, crisp white paintwork and highly polished wooden decks, she
noticed the door to the galley and rooms below was open.  Andrew would
never have left it that way.  She didn’t get chance to voice her concern.

Too
late, Robyn realised that the muzzle of a shotgun poked out of the hole. 
She froze as the gun moved up and out of the galley, held firmly in the grip of
Mr James Truscott.  He arose, one slow step at a time, never taking his
eyes, or the sights of the gun, off of her.

Two
black circles.
 
That was all Robyn could see as the gun rose out of the darkness.  The
deck fell away from her feet, her stomach curled up and her mind floated into a
state of panic.  She looked around for help, but Andrew was at the bow.

James
shifted the barrel of the gun, indicating that he wanted her to move and
sit.  He stayed in the shadows of the galley, not wanting to step out into
the open.

Robyn
held her hands out, palms towards James and did as she was ordered.

She
glanced to the bow, where Andrew threw off a rope that tied them to the harbour
and wanted to warn him, but he couldn’t possibly see James from his position
and she had no opportunity to warn him of the danger.

“It
takes just over three and a half minutes for the gate to get fully down, it’s
going to be close.” Andrew walked the deck and jumped into the sunken area,
realising, too late, his mistake.  He whirled around and saw his
grandfather.

James
steadily rose out of the shadows.  Hatred contorted his features, his mask
having slipped.

Andrew
didn’t avert his gaze from James but he sidestepped slowly and headed for
Robyn’s position.  James turned his eyes to Andrew and shook his
head.  Andrew froze.

James
took a step towards Robyn and shoved the gun into her chest.

“Don’t
move,” he ordered Andrew as the pain of the iron stabbed into her. 
Andrew’s feet halted, but he held a hand towards her, straining to offer
comfort.

Robyn
couldn’t move.  Her hands gripped the underside of the seat as she was
wracked with tremors.  It was not just the gun, that at this range would
tear a hole right through her, but the sheer malice with which it was being
wielded that had her shaking.  Robyn now understood that this was how
James could kill so readily.  His mask didn’t hide his feelings.  It
hid the fact that he had none.

Content
that that neither of them would move, James stepped back, pulling the barrel
away but keeping it trained on Robyn’s chest.  He was eager to pull the
trigger, nothing was hidden about his state of mind, but he was here because of
Andrew.  Robyn was just a very useful bargaining chip.

 “You
are such a disappointment to me.” James spoke to Andrew but didn’t look at him.
“When you were first brought here I expected so much from you.”

“Don’t
you dare talk about disappointment,” Andrew’s tongue was scathing. “All these
years I thought that you struggled to show your feelings, that deep down you
cared.  What a fool I was.  I never realised that it was all false,
that there was always an ulterior motive.”

“Don’t
you take the high horse with me,
boy.
  I have
given up a great many things for you, spent a great deal of time and effort on
you.  I deserve some respect.”  James’s face reddened as the words
spat from his mouth.

“Respect.
  Is that
what you showed Katherine?  Is that what you show the people who get in
your way?”  Robyn could hear the sarcasm, hear the years of pent up anger
flowing through Andrew’s words as she stared down the barrel and into the
little eyes of the portly man Andrew called Grandfather.  Terrified that
Andrew’s rage would only result in James pulling the trigger, she wished for
Andrew to stop, but she had no voice.

“I
don’t expect you to understand.  You have never let me explain.  I
only hoped that someday, somehow we could put history aside and you could come
to care about the town as I do.”  James flicked a glance at Andrew but
quickly returned the look to Robyn.

“Care?
  Is that
what you think you’re doing?”

James
sighed deeply, as if he held the weight of the universe on his shoulders. 
“You won’t understand, but it’s my responsibility, my charge.  It always
has been.”

“What
do you mean?” Andrew was wary.  His eyes flicked from James, to Robyn, and
back, over and over again.  She could tell that he was plotting,
calculating, working out if he could distract James enough to close the gap and
get her out of there.

“Damn
it Andrew.  This is not for her ears.  It’s private.  It is a
great sorrow that must burden only the Truscott line.”

“No,”
Andrew moved one step. “If you want me to hear it, you say it now, Robyn or no
Robyn,”

James
looked at Robyn with haughty disdain before breathing a sigh.  “It
happened years ago, before
Porthmollek
was a town,
when it was a village, scattered houses on the
Porth
Manor estate.”  As he spoke, James’s eyes turned to Andrew but the gun
remained in place. “William Truscott was the only son of John and
Elizabeth.  He was young, handsome, rich and very foolish with it. 
His father summoned him from London to come and assist in the running of the
estate, not so much because he needed help, but because William’s behaviour had
begun to cause concern and he wanted him closer to home.”

James
paused.  The tale seemed to be weighty to tell, as if the effort of
offloading the words was wearing him down.

“William
liked the ladies.  Bringing him here didn’t change that.  The local
young women fawned over him, rich and good looking as he was, and damn, he took
advantage of it.  William saw to it that he bedded half the women of the
village before the summer had even begun.  Unfortunately, he also saw to
it that he bedded the ones who had spurned his advances.  William liked a
drink, and with it he could turn mean.  John and Elizabeth knew of his
problems, but certain standards had to be upheld and they could hardly have
been expected to dry him out.  So, William continued his drink fuelled rages
and his parents were at a loss as to what to do, until fate stepped in to help,
or so they thought.”

Andrew
had a puzzled look on his face.  This was a tale that he had not heard
before but it was hardly a unique yarn.

“Malaise
set in.  William became ill, lethargic.  He no longer had the energy
to pursue his scoundrel ways.  Elizabeth and John believed that it was
spiritual intervention, a curse if you will, to stop William from destroying
more lives.”  James looked at Andrew and then Robyn for understanding,
waiting for them to get what he meant.  Robyn let out a deep breath as she
realised the implications and Andrew dropped his outstretched hand. 
“William, you see, was the first.  He is where it all stems from.”

“He
had
sideroblastic
anaemia.”  The words dropped from
her lips as the vision of a young man, many years ago, set into her mind.

“Yes,
and thanks to his behaviour, a great deal of bastard Truscott children were
fathered; children who also inherited the gene.”

James
paused long enough for Andrew to realise the implications of what he’d
said.  The curse of
Porthmollek
was the product
of one man’s appetite and all those affected were descendants of the Truscott
line.

“Of
course, Elizabeth and John didn’t know that William’s mystery ailment would be
transferred to the children.  They just had all those illegitimate
children to deal with.  Fathers of innocent girls, husbands of petrified
wives, they all knew who was responsible.  There could have been a great
scandal, something that the Truscott’s would never have been able to recover
from.  John had only one option.”

“He
paid them off.” Andrew spoke quietly as if the words had only been a thought,
that they weren’t meant to be heard.

“Yes. 
He paid them off: land, money, cattle, whatever it took for their silence. 
He dealt with every single claimant until there was nothing left.  The
estate became poor, too much land had been given away and before long it became
apparent that it had become unsalvageable.

“John
and Elizabeth had a bigger priority though; dealing with their ailing
son.  The estate was lost, leaving the Truscott family to move into the
only property that they still owned; Holbrook cottage.”

Robyn
stared, stunned by the name.

“Yes,
that little property has always been in Truscott hands,” James answered, but
Andrew looked at her with knowing eyes.  She remembered when she had first
mentioned the house to him on the beach, the look in his eyes then, surprise
mixed with a little fear.  James had kept her exactly where he had wanted
her all this time.  She had been played from the first moment she got
there.

“Exactly
how does this equate to you being charged with taking care of the town?” Andrew
asked.

“William
died.  Without medical understanding, he didn’t live many years. 
After his son’s death, John swore that he would put things right, would get the
estate back, would put the Truscott’s back where they belonged.  After
Elizabeth passed on, he took a young bride, one who could bear an heir for him,
one who could ensure the line, and he taught that child, Henry, that it was his
responsibility to put it right.

“When
Henry came of age, John was an old man, but the teachings had not gone
unheard.  Henry travelled, learned, went to seek his fortune abroad, but
when he returned, a rich man in many ways, he found
Porthmollek
to be in desperate need.  The children, the offspring of William had grown
too, and they shared his curse.  Young men and women fought with their
symptoms.  They married, had children, but died young.  Henry,
insistent that his father’s teachings meant that he had to do right by the town
as well as the Truscott’s, began to help the families affected, believing that
it was his own brother’s wickedness that had brought this upon his people.

“The
Truscott heirs are sworn to help those afflicted and bring back the standing of
the family name.”  Now James stood tall, chin high and looked at Andrew.

“I
have no heir, save you.  I wanted, no, needed you to carry on that oath,
that duty, for the people of this community, for the name that you refuse to
bear.  You are free of the illness, Andrew.  You could free the line,
make us great again and help the people.  And only you, Andrew, can give
them longer lives.”

“I’m
not a Truscott.  I never will be,” Andrew said defiantly, “These people
need proper medical care.  They need professional treatment, not some
potion but actual medicine.  I cannot stand by and allow this to
continue.  Damn the Truscott’s.”

“You
will never see my point of view, will you?”  James tightened his grip on
the gun.

“No.”

“She
was the same you know, stubborn.  She wouldn’t have understood
either.  I knew that even when I first met her.”

“She?”
Shock filled
Andrew’s voice and his body went rigid.

“Yes. 
I knew that she would never understand what I was trying to achieve, never
allow me to get what I wanted from an infant.  I knew that I would have to
wait, play the long game, but I had time then, and I liked her.  I truly
did. 
Until she betrayed me.”

Confused,
Robyn looked from James to Andrew and back.  The two men stared at each
other.

“Betrayed?”

“She
found herself a lover, a dalliance or so I thought, until I discovered that
they were planning on running away.”  James was almost flippant but there
was emotion breaking through the façade.  “I offered her a home, safety,
companionship.  I tried to show her affection.  I went through all
the motions, but she never did quite fall for it and he, Harold, actually loved
her.  They were going to leave, to start again somewhere new, the two of
them and their two children.  The ingratitude infuriated me. ”

“I
don’t understand.” Andrew stepped slightly closer to Robyn whilst memory had
James distracted.

“I
caught her packing your things.  I couldn’t let you be taken from me,
Andrew.  I couldn’t allow you to go.  You were so special.  You
are so special.  I had to keep you.”  James moved his gaze from Robyn
to Andrew and saw the pained look on his grandson’s face.  “So I did what
was necessary to keep you here, to keep you with me.”

“You,
did, what, was, necessary?” Andrew spoke through gritted teeth.  Robyn
could see his body shaking as he struggled to hold himself steady.

“I
had to, don’t you see?”  James shrugged.

Robyn
didn’t see at all, she was confused.

“You
stopped her leaving.”  Anger welled up in Andrew, even in the dim light it
was easy to see.  “All these years, I thought she left me and forgot about
me, and all this time she was dead?”

“I
wasn’t going to let her take you.  I’d worked to damned hard to get you
here.  I had no choice but to get rid of them both.”  James’s haughty
air had returned, his arrogance showing that he felt no remorse for what he had
done.

“Both,
you killed both of them?” Andrew lowered his head.

“Yes. 
He was nothing to me, left behind a snivelling teenage son, as if I
cared.  But I did care for her.  After all, we’d been together for
years by this point.  I gave her the option to stay if she showed
remorse.”  James looked from Andrew to Robyn and then back again, seeking
understanding, camaraderie.  He got none.  “She pleaded for her life,
everyone does, but she never asked to be forgiven.” James’s face was even,
forthright, he felt no emotion telling of his crimes.  He asked for
remorse from others without being able to feel it himself.