Paul Kane - Arrowhead

She'd watched and she'd remembered.

When the handgun ban had come into effect in the UK, David had wanted to take them in. But she argued against it, saying that it was one of the few things they had left of their father, but really just wanting to keep them around the place. She felt safer with them in the drawer. There was a reason she'd looked after them and kept them loaded ever since David had gone. A reason she'd practised with the tins just like her father had when she was young. This was the reason, she understood that now.

Taking them out, her fingers curled around the handles, and it gave her confidence. Mary felt like she could do anything now, anything at There was a banging on the front door – which she had a clear view of from her position. Placing one pistol down on the desk momentarily, she emptied out bullets and stuffed them into the pockets of her jeans, as many as she could cram in there. Skirting back around the desk, she used the living room door jamb for cover and risked a glance out. Heavy boots were stamping against the wood of the front door, but it was holding for now. It wouldn't for long.

Just like Custer, eh? Dad would've been proud, said David.

Great, thanks…

The door was splintering at the lock and Mary knew in seconds they'd be through. She slid down the wall, breathing heavily, waiting to act until she heard the door give completely. She heard it smash open, and turned to fire upwards – assessing the situation quickly before pulling the trigger.

The soldiers burst in and she let them have it. Because of the awkward angle she was at, her aim was a little wide, ricocheting off the stone wall above the door. Nevertheless it was enough to force a retreat.

She smiled to herself – that wasn't so hard. But then a hail of bullets filled the hallway; Mary only just managed to roll back into the living room and avoid them.

"Tin cans don't do that," she muttered to herself.

Luckily they were aiming high, the soldiers either not that well trained or hampered by the smoke that was wafting out of the kitchen and filling the hall, masking her from sight.

Mary looked around for an easy exit. The enormous back windows were probably her best option, but even now she saw shadows there as more men ran around the back of the house, trapping her.

She heard the shattering of windows elsewhere too, possibly the dining room that lay on the other side of the hall. The stairs were between there and here, so a dash for the landing or bedrooms was out of the question. Mary shuffled up against the living room wall.

First order of business was to defend the front door – they'd be coming through that again any moment. Mary rose, twisted her head, and peered around the jamb. Sure enough she spotted figures there – responding to orders given by their commanding officer outside – and she fired blindly through the smoke. Mary dived when the muzzles of their machine guns flashed again, rolling as she did so to reach the other side of the jamb.

There was gunfire at the back of the house as well, raking the stone, shattering the glass of the living room window. Mary fired a couple of shots in that direction to try and ward off any soldiers entering that way.

She risked another glance into the hall, and it was at this point she saw something rolling towards her. It was small and black, ball-like but metallic; it rattled along the wooden floor as it went.

Move, Sis! Get out of there, right now!

"Oh shit!" she cried, scrambling to her feet. Mary was about halfway across the room, already diving for the shelter of the desk, when the grenade exploded in the hallway. The force of it flung her the rest of the way, bouncing her off the top of the desk and pitching her against the far wall, as most of the room appeared to follow behind her.

Mary landed on the other side of the desk, protected from the resultant blast but barely conscious.

Moo-Moo… Wake up! You've got to wake up… Those men are in the house and they're going to hurt you! Please Moo-Moo!

So, her mind was still working then, still keeping up the imaginary dialogue with her dead brother? She drifted in and out of wakefulness, desperate to keep her eyes open. Mary could hear sounds, men calling out to each other. A creaking from above, someone walking on the floorboards upstairs. They were searching the house from top to bottom.

"All clear," someone called.

She blacked out for a few moments, then another voice not far away was shouting, "In here… Look."

"Careful, she's still alive."

"Call Colonel Rudakas, quickly."

Mary was aware of hands on her, of being lifted up – but she couldn't do a blessed thing about it. Again, a few more seconds of blackness, then she felt her face being slapped.

"Hey! Wake up!"

Another slap, followed by a shake – rough hands holding her on either side were pushing her forwards, then backwards, in quick succession. Mary screwed her hazel eyes up tight, then opened them. The figure in front of her was blurry, but she could tell by the peaked cap it was the man in charge, this Rudakas guy.

She was shaken again. "I'm awake," Mary burbled. "Stop shaking me."

"Good." He smiled. "This is quite a place you have here…" He waited for her name, but when Mary didn't offer one, he proceeded. "Hidden away, miles from civilisation. We almost missed you on our spree today."

Mary struggled against the men holding her, but they had a firm grip.

"You're headstrong, I'll give you that – but it will fade soon enough. You're also very beautiful." Rudakas looked her up and down. It made Mary feel sick to her stomach. "My Lord De Falaise grows weary of the companion he has at present. He is in need of some fresh company."

"Who… who are you people?"

"Us? Have you not heard? No, I do not imagine you have. We are the new order, we are your new masters."

"You're not my anything." Mary scowled.

Rudakas toured around the room, approaching the desk that had shielded Mary after the grenade went off. When Rudakas turned back to her, he had both the Peacemakers in his hands.

"Collector's items, I believe. Where did you come by such magnificent pistols?"

"They were my father's," Mary told him reluctantly.

"Ah, a family heirloom then… Like all of this, I presume." He gestured at the room, the house. "I must apologise for the untidiness, but you left us little choice. Had you made your presence known, surrendered earlier then…Well, things might have worked out a little differently. I am not an unreasonable man; nor is the Sheriff."

"Sheriff? I don't understand."

"It's quite simple, really. My Lord has taken over these lands and appointed himself their keeper. Which, put simply, means that everything found on said lands belongs to him. These," he lifted the pistols, "your property, such as it is… Your animals, which we have already begun slaughtering for meat. Your crops and, finally, you, my sweet."

Mary stiffened.

"I take it you do have a name?"

She clamped her mouth shut.

"Tell me, for that too belongs to him."

When Mary defied the man, he stuffed one of the pistols into his belt and then punched her hard in the stomach. The breath exploded from her, but she wasn't allowed the luxury of doubling over – the men holding her on either side saw to that.

"Now, I ask again, what your name might be?"

Tell him, Moo-Moo. Tell him or he might do something worse. "Ma…Ma…" was all she could manage, but it wasn't just the effort of speaking when winded; it was the principle that was sticking in her throat.

The man grabbed her just under the chin. "We have all the time in the world, but it would go easier on you if you just told me right now."

Mary spat in his face.

Rudakas recoiled. "You fucking bitch! I will teach you some manners before dragging you to the castle." He pulled back his fist again, and was about to strike Mary when there came a noise from outside.