The Word of God (50 page)

He wasn't confident of hitting at that range but he thought it was the right decision.
I'll get several chances to get Number One. He is a long way from cover out on top of that dam.

The light was fading fast now and that worried him too. The Black Monk was hard to see against the background of dark forest and the Sniper was just a vague black mound on the dam wall.

The first Devil Worshipper reached the other end of the footbridge and stopped. He began talking to Graham. Peter could not hear what they were saying but was relieved that he hadn't simply opened fire. Peter saw Graham point in his direction and guessed Graham was telling the man he was there with a rifle.

The talking went on for ten minutes. At one stage voices were raised and Peter sucked in his breath.

That is Sir Richard, the Black Knight!

Finally an agreement was reached. By then it was almost dark and Peter could no longer see the Black Monk or the Sniper and even had trouble distinguishing
Graham and the Black Knight. Abruptly both turned and walked back off the bridge at the same time. Peter breathed out and flexed his muscles. He realized he was getting cold and starting to cramp up.

Graham walked back and called him; “That was the Black Knight.”

Peter stood up, picked up the shotgun, and moved out to join him. “I know. I heard him. Well? What is the deal?”

“We have to come back at midnight. We are to come here, two of us and two of them from the other end, same as then. They are to be allowed to send someone over to check that the Scroll is the genuine article. That person is then to be allowed to return to the other side. I am then to walk forward to the middle of the bridge with the Scroll. At the same time one of them is to walk across with Gwen. We are to hand over at the same time, then back off,” Graham explained.

Peter turned this plan over in his mind. “I don't like it. There are some nasty holes in the plan. They have more advantages than we do.”

“Yes, I know, but they know we want Gwen; and they also know we know they aren't bluffing,” Graham replied.

Images of the mutilated body nailed to the tree only a few hundred paces back along the track swamped Peter's mind. He recoiled from the utter horror of it. Poor Gwen! He said: “They could have people waiting on this bank in ambush to hit us on our way back with Gwen.”

“Yes, so we will need to check it out carefully beforehand. I am more worried that they will start shooting on the footbridge the moment they have the Scroll.”

The two friends walked slowly back along the road while they talked. There seemed no point in creeping at that moment as the Devil Worshippers knew they were there anyway. Peter thought hard, then said: “What if I turn a torch on as soon as you go out to the middle. That way I will be less likely to miss. I will move out to one side to get a clear shot as well.”

Graham considered this. “That will have to do.”

They were at the road junction below the place where the others were waiting by then. In under the trees it was very dark. Peter could just distinguish trees so as not to walk into them. They began walking up the hill side by side.

“No moon tonight,” Graham commented.

They puffed slowly up. Peter had to force his protesting leg muscles to work and broke into a sweat despite the cold. A quiet challenge from Joy stopped them.

“It is us,” Peter replied. He heard Joy's gasp of relief and went quickly to her. “It is alright,” he reassured her.

“Where is Gwen? When are you getting her?” Joy asked.

Peter eased himself down to sit on a large rock beside her. He could just make out the shapes of the others in the darkness. “We get her at midnight. That makes me think she is not here and they have to go and get her.”

At that moment Graham said quietly: “Are you smoking Frank?”

Peter realized he had been able to smell the tobacco smoke but hadn't made the connection in his mind.

Frank grunted. “Yeah. I need a puff,” he replied sullenly.

“Put it out!” Graham said. His voice was quiet but firm.

“I got it covered. No one can see it,” Frank replied. His tone indicated he resented being spoken to like that by a mere boy.

“I could smell it down on the road,” Graham replied. “If you want to endanger your life that is your business, but if you want to stay with us then co-operate; or you can bugger off!” he grated.

“Don't tell me what to do boy! I ain't one of yer bloody boy soldiers,” Frank said.

“I don't want anyone else to end up like that poor bastard nailed to the tree back there so either do it our way or clear out,” Graham replied.

Frank muttered, but the image was a powerful one and, at Sir Miles' urging, he stubbed the cigarette out. To ease the tension Peter said: “No sign of the police or Stephen yet.”

Graham answered: “No. I think they might have encountered the National Machine Gun Association on their field day.”

“As long as they didn't use them as targets,” Peter said.

Joy gasped. “Oh Peter! How can you say things like that!”

Peter rested his hand on her shoulder. “Because we may as well joke. It makes the reality easier to bear.”

Joy moved slightly so that her arm pressed against his. “What are the arrangements to get Gwen?”

These were described and the problems discussed. Joy said: “I am coming with you next time.”

“No. It is too risky.”

“I am coming. I'm a CUO too. I will cover the rear with the shotgun. I will be safe enough there.”

Peter had to agree it was a good idea. Sir Miles insisted he also join them. He said: “Why don't we all move down. That way, as soon as we have Gwen we can get going?”

Graham thought for a while, then vetoed it. “No. We are not going down the
road. We are going down the mountainside. It will be better to go back over that way.” He pointed in the dark but they knew what he meant.

“How can we go down a bloody mountain in the dark?” Frank challenged.

“Very slowly. Crawl if we have to. It doesn't matter if we only cover a hundred metres an hour, it gets us safe out of this area,” Graham replied. “You don't have to come with us.”

“Let's not argue please,” Joy said. “I want to get some rest. I'm exhausted.”

“Good idea. I'm worn out too,” Peter agreed.

“And bloody hungry!” Graham said with a laugh.

“Yes, it's been a long time since breakfast,” Peter agreed. “Do we have a sentry roster?”

Joy answered. “Not yet. I'll make one up,” she replied. She sat and thought for a minute, then said: “It's only till midnight isn't it?”

“Only till eleven,” Graham replied. “I want to have plenty of time to get down there and check the place out.”

“Only four hours then. Two people on together,” Peter said.

Joy quickly worked out a simple roster: Old Ned for the first two hours: 1900 to 2100, with Graham for one hour, till 2000. Then Joy for two hours:2100 to 2300, with Peter from 2000 to 2200. Sir Miles was to take over from him for the period 2200 to 2300.

“That will be fine,” Peter said.

“So what about us then?” Frank asked. “What do we do when you go to get this girl?”

Peter was starting to feel annoyed at the old man. “You and Old Ned can wait up here till we get back with Gwen,” he replied.

Frank didn't like it and grumbled but they ignored that. Peter went off and relieved himself, then came back and found a flat area nearby which he cleared of sticks. He placed the shotgun within easy reach, took off his webbing, had a big drink, then stretched himself out. There was a bit of quiet talking from the others as they organized themselves.

Peter tried to relax but found his thoughts being drawn back to the ghastly scene back along the road. He found he was shivering and sweating and knew he was near the end of his strength. Someone moved beside him. It was Joy. Without a word she laid out her gear and placed the captured radio against a tree.

Surely she's not going to sleep beside me?
he thought.

She was. She lay down close beside him and whispered: “You are very brave Peter. You are a wonderful person.”

Peter was tongue tied with embarrassment. He grunted and aid: “It is Graham who is the gutsy one.”

“Yes he is, but he enjoys it. He is a natural. You are a much more sensitive and caring person.”

“I'm worried about this midnight meeting,” Peter said.

“It will be alright. Now relax,” Joy said. To Peter's mixed consternation and delight she snuggled close against him. For an instant he worried about the fact that he had not had a bath for three days, and that he had worn the same dirty, sweaty uniform the whole time. Then he told himself it didn't matter.

So has she, and I don't mind!

He put his arm around her and she murmured and snuggled closer. Her touch both excited and relaxed him. The tension seemed to flow quietly out of him and he felt calm and determined.

I won't let her down,
he vowed.

The sleep of utter exhaustion then claimed him.

Chapter 32

MIDNIGHT

D
uring the next few hours Peter woke up several times. Once it was from a nightmare which left him sweating and groaning. The body on the tree was his and the Black Monk was about to cut his throat. Joy was there and she stroked his face and soothed him.

“Shh! Shh! It is alright Peter. I'm here,” she murmured.

Peter woke with his mind in a whirl. He half rolled over and clung to her. Before he realized what was happening they were kissing with a frantic passion which left him gasping. Then they settled in the comfort of each other's arms and drifted off to sleep again.

The second time he woke it was from cramps. They struck with agonizing sharpness. He sat up and pummelled his knotted calf muscles, then rubbed his sleep-gummed eyes and looked around. Joy was not beside him. She was on sentry and at once moved over to ask if he was alright.

After that he dozed but the cold and fear kept him on the edge of wakefulness. His mind was continually crowded by images of death, mixed with awful possibilities of what might go wrong at the handover. For the first time in his life he also found himself seriously considering religion.

Was there a God? If there is, why would he allow something like the afternoon's atrocity to occur? His mind told him the answer. He had never thought about it before but now it made sense.

If God truly gave humans free will then he can't interfere. He doesn't take sides. We do it all to ourselves.

Movement roused him. It was Sir Miles. “Time to get up,” he whispered.

Peter sat up and regretted the earlier doubts he had harboured about Sir Miles.

He stretched and tried not to groan. It took a real effort to open his eyes. The lids seemed to be glued together and his mouth felt stale and dry. With a stifled moan he sat up and groped for a water bottle. A drink helped. He found he was shivering and that an icy wind was rustling the trees.

After a couple of minutes of careful stretching Peter stood up. Cautiously he made his way off into the darkness at the rear to relieve himself again, then came back shivering and sore to sit with the others at the rock pile. It took ten minutes
to get themselves ready. Reluctantly Peter swung on his webbing and picked up the shotgun. It felt icy and made him shiver violently.

Graham joined him. “I'll take the pistol that Joy has. Pete, you take the M16 and Joy can have the shotgun. Check your torch,” he said.

Peter agreed to this and passed the shotgun to Joy. “It is on safe, that little switch on top,” he said. He then crouched and tested his torch by holding it face down on the ground and turning it on. It worked. Sir Miles sat next to them and checked the revolver he had. Old Ned and Frank muttered to each other nearby.

Graham slid the pistol into his pocket. “You've got the Scroll Sir Miles?” he asked.

“Right here,” Sir Miles replied holding up the sack.

Graham suddenly went tense and turned his head slowly to and fro. “Who is that talking?” he asked.

Peter listened, his anxiety level shooting up. A voice was just audible above the sound of the wind in the trees. For a moment the direction had him puzzled. Then he realized it was behind him. Icicles of fear seemed to stick darts up his back. Then the truth came to him and he shuddered with relief. “It is the radio,” he said.

They crouched to listen. An American with a deep nasal twang was talking. As before it was just sets of four numerals. Peter bit his lip and shook his head. “That is bad news,” he said.

“Why?” Sir Miles asked. “Can you tell what he is saying?”

“No, but it means the person sending the message is now on our side of the mountain,” Peter replied.

“Not necessarily,” Graham countered. “It could be just a sky wave reflection.”

“Could be,” Peter conceded, but in his bones he did not believe it. “I think trouble is about to arrive in big lumps.”

“How would they know where to come?” Sir Miles asked.

Graham answered. “From Stephen and Megan if they have captured them,” he said.

“Oh they wouldn't talk,” Joy defended. Peter thought about that. He was pretty sure Stephen wouldn't, but Megan?

Frank moved closer. “Surely they wouldn't be moving in the dark?” he asked.

“Yes they would,” Graham replied. “Soldiers do it all the time as a matter of course. Come on, we don't have time to worry about them. Let's get moving.”

But Peter was now feeling a deep sense of dread. “I'd like to know what they are saying,” he said. “It could help us a lot.”

“We can't take the radio with us and I don't like the idea of turning on a torch to copy and decode,” Graham replied.

“When we get back,” Joy replied.

Graham shook his head. “I just want to get out of the area as soon as we have Gwen safe,” he replied.