Paul Finch - Stalkers

Heck scrambled to his feet, grabbed a plank, flattened himself against the wall and aimed a blow down at the hand. It was withdrawn at the last second, the plank meeting empty air.

‘Shit!’ he hissed.

There was a crunch-crunch-crunch as feet padded around the exterior of the building.

‘What are the kitchen windows like?’ Heck asked.

‘Like these, small. But someone can get in if we don’t guard them.’

‘So what are you waiting for?’

She nodded and darted into the kitchen. He hurried back to the hall, where Dana was conscious but very groggy.

‘Mark … Mark, what’s happening …?’

‘We’re in a fix, Dana. But I promise I’m going to get you out of it.’

His eyes were attuning to the starlight, and he now saw a staircase. It led up to nowhere, its topmost section having fallen away with the upper floor. But beneath it there was a triangular door. He opened it on a narrow closet-space. Taking Dana’s hand, he lugged her unceremoniously to her feet.

‘Mark … what’re you doing?’

‘Get in here, quick.’

‘What? No, I won’t …’

‘Dana!’ he hissed into her ear. ‘There’s going to be a fight, and if you don’t find a hiding place you’ll be caught in the middle of it. And I can’t have that on my mind as well as everything else. Now for once do as you’re told.’

She might have been dazed, but she knew her brother well enough to know when he was being deadly serious. She nodded dumbly and, stooping down, allowed herself to be pushed into the under-stair cupboard. Heck closed the door quietly.

There was a sudden massive impact on the other side of the building.

‘Heck!’ he heard Lauren shout. ‘Heck!’

He scrambled back through the living room, and turned into the kitchen. Lauren had blocked the back door with lengths of wood, but a full-scale attack was now being launched on it. Heavy blows landed one after another, possibly with the flat of a foot, but no obvious progress was being made.

‘Surely he realises he can’t kick it down?’ Lauren whispered.

‘He’s not trying to kick it down,’ Heck said slowly. ‘This is a diversion!’

He scarpered back into the living room, just in time to see Trooper Kilmor’s head, shoulders and upper body protruding through one of the windows. Heck charged forward, ripping up one of the thistles growing through the layer of rubble. Kilmor shouted a threat, but Heck was already lashing him across his unprotected face. Kilmor shrieked and tried to drag himself backward. Heck lashed him six or seven times before he managed it, but then had to duck as the muzzle of the Uzi appeared in the aperture and blazed off maybe thirty rounds.

‘ Shit, my eyes!’ Kilmor screeched. ‘ The bastard’s blinded me!’

Now another voice was heard. It was Silver. ‘He hasn’t blinded you, you fucking pretend soldier! Get inside and finish them off like I told you!’

More shots sounded from the kitchen.

‘Lauren?’ Heck shouted.

‘It’s okay,’ she called back.

He rushed through. They were pistol shots from the Browning. Three more followed, and with each one a moonlit hole was punched in the back door.

‘He still can’t get in!’ Lauren laughed.

Another angry kick struck the planks, and then there was silence.

It was ear-punishing.

They strained to listen. Still they heard nothing, but Heck was certain this was only the prelude to a renewed attack somewhere else on the perimeter. He beckoned to Lauren, and they moved.

Aside from the living room, there was a second chamber adjoining the kitchen. This was long and narrow, and ran along the back of the house; it had probably been a dining room at some time. Again it was open to the night, but there were fragments of furnishing left in it: a few broken plant pots, a metal-framed table with a Formica top, the Formica itself having peeled away, leaving mildewed planks underneath. The door at the end of this room connected with the front of the house again. They progressed towards it, and halted there, glancing into the hall. Still there was no sound from outside.

‘Think they’ve given up and run for it?’ Lauren wondered.

Heck shook his head.

There was a sudden scraping sound, a scrabbling of loose stonework. They glanced upward — to see a squat, misshapen form balanced on the jagged apex of the outer wall.

‘Fuckers are trying to climb in!’ Lauren shouted.

They dived in different directions as Klim pointed his Browning down and fired, Lauren throwing herself back into the dining room, Heck running clear across the hall, past the cupboard in which his sister was still concealed, and back into the living room. Klim pegged another three shots at them. There were more screaming ricochets, but none of the slugs struck home, which perhaps wasn’t surprising given that, from his perspective, Klim was shooting down into a darkened interior.

He tried to improve his position, clambering across the open roof-space by its exposed joists, until he reached the top of the connecting wall between the hall and the dining room, which he perched on like some great, overweight ape. Heck stuck his head through the living room door, only for two more shots to be fired at him. He ducked back, but not before he was able to see that Klim was now directly above the staircase. If he hung by his hands, it was only a couple of feet to the topmost tread.

Lauren, watching from the dining room, had also seen this.

‘Heck, the bastard’s almost made it!’ she shouted.

Heck was helpless to do anything, other than grab a half-brick and hurl it up. It missed by some distance. Klim fired at him, but then swung down from his perch, and, as they’d feared, alighted comfortably on the top of the stair. He again took aim at the living room door, now with both hands, and pumped off three more shots. Each one blew out a chunk of the door-jamb behind which Heck was flattened.

‘I’m inside!’ Klim bellowed, alerting his confederates beyond the walls.

His eyes too were adjusting to the gloom. He turned towards the front door, and saw the heavy prop that had been used to shore it up. He squeezed off two shots at it. One of them struck, but the prop held firm. Klim ejected his spent clip and slid another into place — only for Lauren to seize the moment and come yelling up the stair towards him. He swung around to face her, but she’d picked up the Formica table and was using it like a shield. All he could see was the flat surface rushing up at him. He fired at it twice before it slammed into him, knocking him backward against the rotted banister, which split loudly. The spindles gave way, and Klim fell headfirst into the rubble below.

It stunned him, knocking the gun from his grasp. But he knew he had to regain his feet quickly. He did this just in time to see Heck ballooning through the dimness, another half-brick in hand. Klim blocked the blow by taking it full on his forearm, which made him squawk in pain. Heck clamped a hand on his throat and forced him backward. Klim grabbed Heck’s throat in retaliation. They wrestled together, but now Lauren came swinging down over what remained of the banister, hitting Klim in the back with both feet. It winded him, and his legs buckled. It was all the opportunity Heck needed. He swept down hard with the half-brick, catching Klim in the mouth. The second blow was even more vicious; it struck Klim’s left temple, crushing it inward like sodden cardboard.

A moment passed, and then the criminal fell sideways, his knees bending at one-eighty degrees beneath him. By his glazed eyes, he was dead before he hit the ground.

Heck and Lauren stood panting. Then Heck spotted a dark stain seeping down the front of her vest. ‘You’re hurt!’