Matt Hilton: Blood and Ashes

A fucking cat won’t be enough to save you this time, Millie, he thought as he dabbed a finger to his oozing wounds.

Even the man with killer’s eyes won’t be enough.

Ordinarily direct action is the order of play. Throughout my military career and beyond I’ve always believed in taking the war directly to my enemies. Sitting around waiting to be attacked never plays well with me. Except this time I’d no option.

I looked across to where the two small children clung to their grandfather’s legs, staring up at him with a mix of adulation and fear. Clearly they loved the old man, but they were astute enough to pick up on Don’s disquiet. He had been careful to avoid mentioning anything in front of the children but his body language screamed his unease to all in the room.

Beth and Ryan were full of questions, most delivered by the whites of their huge eyes, and Don tried to reassure them with hugs and pats of his trembling fingers on their heads. The kids cast occasional glances my way and I smiled at them. That didn’t help. On the contrary, the children grew more concerned; maybe my smile looked more like a grimace of pain.

Finally, Don ushered the children across the sitting room.

‘Who wants ice cream?’ he asked. Anything to distract them.

‘They haven’t had breakfast yet. They’re not allowed treats until after they’ve eaten.’

Adrian Reynolds had met us at the door with enough disdain that it radiated from him like a chill wind. He hadn’t spoken since, and now that he did it was with a continuation of his apparent disapproval. He scowled my way, then at Don.

‘I think we can make an exception this time, Adrian,’ Don said, his eyes steady on the younger man’s face. ‘What do you say, guys? Ice cream… or would you prefer pancakes?’

‘Pancakes,’ Ryan said.

‘Ice cream,’ Bethany corrected.

Ryan’s face split into a grin. ‘Pancakes and ice cream!’

Don chuckled, but the humour sounded forced. He snapped a final look at his son-in-law, before leading the children from the room. ‘Pancakes and ice cream it is.’

Adrian snorted and folded his arms on his chest as small feet rushed towards the kitchen. It was like Don had said earlier; where the kids were concerned Adrian had no say.

Following Adrian’s lead, I crossed my arms.

Body language again spoke volumes.

The tableau held for a half-minute while we both studied each other from across the room. Finally Adrian asked, ‘So, are you going to tell me what the hell you’re doing here, buddy?’

‘I’m Joe Hunter.’

‘I didn’t ask your name. I asked what you’re doing in my home.’

‘I’m not your buddy. Call me Hunter. Then maybe we can start again.’

Adrian sneered. ‘OK, Hunter, what the hell are you doing here?’

‘Don asked me to come. You don’t want me here… fair enough. But I’m not here for you.’

‘Then get the fuck out of my house.’

‘No.’

Adrian grunted. He took a step forward but then thought better of it and rocked back on his heels. He was a big guy, as tall and muscular as my friend Rink. The difference being Adrian’s muscles looked the product of gymnasiums and personal trainers, not the type developed in the brutal arena of warfare. In the corded tendons of my crossed arms he probably recognised the futility of getting into a pissing competition he couldn’t win.

‘Don hired you? What are you, some sort of bodyguard?’

‘I’m just an old friend.’ The final word came out after the briefest of pauses, but Adrian picked up on it.

‘Friend? Don doesn’t have friends. All he has is people who owe him or people who hate him. Which are you, Hunter?’

‘I don’t owe him a damn thing.’

The big man gave a bark of laughter. ‘Maybe we do have something in common after all.’

‘If you’re referring to keeping the kids safe, you’re right.’ I allowed the corners of my lips to turn up, but the smile had as much effect as it had on the children.

‘Has Don suckered you into his bullshit paranoia?’

You’re not paranoid if everyone is after you. The thought brought back the quack-wisdom of one of my combat instructors at Arrowsake. The arms instructor had been drilling his troop on the importance of being constantly aware of the potential for danger, using a traffic-light sequence to explain the heightened level a soldier must work on while in the field. ‘Red always,’ he’d bawled. ‘Green’s for cattle, orange is for civvies. You don’t stay at red, boys, you’re fuckin’ dead!’

A freckle-faced Scot named Gregor Stewart fancied himself as the troop clown. He’d quipped, ‘Don’t worry, boys, you’re no’ really paranoid if everyone is after you.’

The instructor immediately swept Gregor’s feet from under him and jammed the barrel of his SIG in the young trooper’s ear. ‘Out there everyone is after you, boy.’

After that Gregor stayed in the red zone; at least for as long as it took him to stop blushing.

Shaking my head, relegating the memory to a corner of my mind, I looked at Adrian. I nibbled at a lip in thought. ‘Your wife was killed.’

‘An accident. A tragic accident, that’s all it was.’

‘Maybe,’ I conceded, ‘but Millie was just attacked in her home.’

‘She was what?’ Adrian’s arms finally unfurled, his hands spread as he grasped at handfuls of air. For the first time he looked anything but bitter. ‘Is she…?’

‘She’s OK. She’s on her way here.’

‘What happened?’

‘I haven’t had the full story from Don yet, but, reading between the lines, someone broke into the house and tried to attack her. Does that sound paranoid to you?’

Adrian’s dark hair had been perfectly brushed until now. He jammed his sweating palms through it and left it standing at odd angles. ‘Holy Jesus,’ he moaned. ‘Then Don was right? No, that can’t be. Brook was killed in an accident. It couldn’t possibly be connected.’

Horror spread across Adrian’s features and for a second I felt sorry for the man. It was bad enough for me losing my wife Diane through divorce, but to have your wife burned to ash in a road accident was a hundred times worse. To then consider that such a shocking tragedy could have been murder must have been torture.

Adrian shook his head. ‘No. It must be a mistake. Whoever attacked Millie… well, it must have been random. Some vagrant who thought the house was empty. Maybe he watched you and Don driving away and saw an opportunity and broke in looking for money or something to sell for drugs.’

He was babbling, his words running together as he tried to find a theory he was happy with. I thought about mentioning the two I’d killed in the early hours but decided against it. ‘We’ll find out when Millie gets here.’

‘That’s another thing!’ Adrian’s hands went through his hair again. ‘Why is Millie coming here? She should wait for the cops at her place.’

‘She didn’t call the police.’ To allay Adrian’s response, I said, ‘Don told her not to.’

‘He did what? What the hell is he doing?’

I don’t know, and I don’t like it, I thought. There was more to Don’s reticence than protecting me from a murder charge.

‘Don told me you know nothing of his past,’ I said. ‘You know he was a cop, right? But what about before that?’

‘Brook told me that he was in the military years ago.’

‘He was a marine,’ I agreed. ‘When he demobbed he went back to university and graduated with honours, met his wife, raised his family. He took another job to make ends meet.’

Adrian was peering at me, mouth open, wondering no doubt what all of this had to do with anything and why it should affect the here and now.