Simon Clark - The Fall

Sam gave a nod. ‘Lee drives. Ryan and I are going to repel boarders. Okay, let’s do it.’

Zita and Thomas Hather also offered to ride along. Sam firmly refused their offers.

Deep down he knew why. Carswell was probably right, damn him. This might well turn out to be a suicide mission after all.

Sam intended taking the bus that, to all intents and purposes, was now nothing more than a huge firebomb on wheels into the narrowest part of the gorge.

Somehow they had to get clear of the thing as it began to burn, then run back to their own lines at the mouth of the gorge.

And that would be with some mightily pissed-off Bluebeards hard on their heels.

‘Ryan, are you okay?’

Ryan nodded and took up his position at the right-hand side of the bus. He pulled the hammers back on the shotgun. Behind him, wedged the full length and width of the bus’s deck, were the barrels of wood alcohol. Sprinkled liberally over those were 50 or so grenades.

Quite a nice little firework cocktail it all makes , Sam told himself as he pushed the automatics into his belt.

‘See you in ten minutes,’ he said to Zita, touching her cheek.

‘Make it five, you big lummox.’ She tried to force a smile, but only managed to make her lips twitch.

‘God go with you, Sam,’ Hather said and shook his hand. Sam nodded. Behind him, Lee fired the bus’s big diesel motor into life.

Quickly he climbed onto the bus and slapped the driver’s timbered compartment twice. Move it on out .

The engine bellowed and they were moving forward through the line of soldiers, and then between the cliff walls of the gorge itself.

Sam was aware of Zita, Hather, Rolle, Jud and the rest watching them go. He didn’t look back now.

Ahead the gorge was nothing more than a narrow channel cut by a million years of rainwater. Snow covered the ground.

Here there were only a few bushes and saplings. But deeper into the gorge he knew it became thickly wooded.

Sam had told Lee to drive as far as he could before the trees stopped the bus. In theory the Bluebeards would be penned there in front of him in the couple of hundred yards or so of gorge that remained.

What would happen then God alone knew.

‘Take it nice and steady,’ he shouted to Lee as the bus flattened saplings. ‘I think we’ve got company.’

‘Dear Lord, help them,’ Thomas said under his breath.

‘I’ll second that,’ Zita said. She put her arm around him. The man was trembling like a frightened child.

She watched as the bus disappeared into the swirling blizzard. Now all she could hear was the growl of the motor.

She stared into the snow, willing her vision to penetrate that wall of white. But she could see nothing.

Seconds later the sound of gunshots reached her.

A dozen or so Bluebeards ran at the bus and began hurling rocks.

One glanced off Sam’s shoulder as he hung onto the window frame.

Behind him he heard the deep thuds of Ryan’s shotgun.

Two of the attackers fell back onto the snow.

Now Sam drew one of the automatics from his belt as a giant of a man armed with a spear ran in front of the bus.

Sam aimed. Fired.

The man dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach. The bus rolled steadily forward. Sam heard the thump of metal against flesh. Then he felt a jolt as the front wheel of the bus passed over an object in the snow.

More Bluebeards appeared at the sides of the bus. He hoped this wasn’t the main force, only a picket line protecting the rest deeper in the gorge.

If those two thousand or so did break out, he didn’t give much for the chances of Zita, Jud and the rest back there. ‘Step on the gas, Lee, old buddy,’ he called. ‘Let’s kick these bastards’ asses once and for all.’

Through one of the slots in the timbered driver’s compartment, Sam saw Lee nod. The engine roared and the bus’s tyres slipped in the snow.

But the weight of the vehicle kept the tyres biting.

The machine lurched. Vibrations ran from end to end.

It took a moment or so for Sam to gauge it was picking up speed.

But when he looked out of the windows he saw the saplings had started to blur.

Pushing the automatic back into his belt he shouted back to Ryan, ‘Hang on tight. This is it!’

The bus must have been hitting the 40 mark.

Snow sprayed up at either side. Bushes, saplings, men were smashed against the front of the bus.

The rock faces of the gorge began to close in.

Behind him the barrels of wood alcohol bounced. One broke free from the lines, rolled forward and crashed against the timber sides of the driver’s compartment. Instantly it cracked open to flood the floor of the bus. Sam’s nostrils tingled and his eyes watered at the intense aroma of the stuff. It smelled pungent, lethal.

Hell , Sam thought, one spark and this bus becomes a shooting star.

He looked ahead. That was when he gritted his teeth. Just yards ahead was a line of mature oaks.

‘Lee! Hit the brakes!’

Lee braked.

But on that snow no way was the bus going to stop in a hurry.

Without losing speed it slid on, throwing up gouts of snow like whale plumes.

The line of trees seemed to hurtle towards them, as if eager to meet the charging steel and rubber of the bus.

Sam heard the crash. Then he was flying.

After she heard the gunshots Zita froze. They lasted only for a moment, then stopped.

For a second she thought all had gone silent. She stared into the falling snow in the direction of the gorge.

Then she heard the sound of the bus’s motor. It grew louder and then abruptly stopped.

Before she even knew it, Thomas had grabbed her arm in his two hands.

‘Don’t go in there,’ he told her. ‘We must wait.’

‘We can’t just stand here.’

‘Yes, we must and we will. They’re in God’s hands now.’

Every fibre of Zita’s body strained to carry her into the gorge to find out what had happened. Her gut instincts told her something had gone badly wrong.

It came from far, far away. A distant calling. The sound was indistinct. It seemed to shimmer. But there was something about it. Something important.

For a while Sam Baker didn’t know what it was. He opened his eyes.

‘Sam… Sam… Sam ?’

Floating above him was the man in the moon. A big round disc with dark smudgy eyes and down-turned mouth.

‘Sam? Can you hear me?’

The man in the moon’s voice was muffled.

Then it did a peculiar thing. The face turned away. A moment later came a loud bang.

The face turned back to Sam, the smudgy eyes looking down into his. ‘Sam… Sam !’ More explosions.

‘Sam, snap out of it! They’re going to kill us!’

Sam did his best to speak. Only his mouth didn’t work. What was more, he felt like a broken doll lying there.

His shoulder throbbed. His ribs radiated pure agony every time he breathed. He was sure his arm was broken at the elbow. And from the exciting new way his tongue could roam about the inside of his mouth he figured that most of his teeth were smashed, too.

‘Sam…’

He hoisted himself up painfully onto one elbow. The moment he looked around, his mind snapped into focus. They were in deep, deep shit. Lee and Ryan were firing their rifles at the Bluebeards, who were coming at them through the woodland, whooping like Red Indians.

He turned his head. A flash of pain cracked up through his neck and into his head, where it seemed to bounce around the inside of his skull for a while – clearly in no hurry to leave.