Hello everyone! I hope you are all well! As usual, please read, and review! I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter! Whilst I remember; those of you who wish to contact and congratulate my beta for making this work readable; she reviewed on chap 24, her name is FortheKingdom, so drop her a message! Also, if you have the time, read DiegoRedeemedLover's work Lost in Time: Destiny – its a fantastic spinoff of this story, and pretty damn good to boot! Well worth a read :)
Thank you all who reviewed the last chapter; and I thank you for the blunt reviews! Looking at it now I realise that a lot of it didnt really have much to do with the plot, and I apologise for that! Ill try and make sure it doesnt happen again :)...(though, of course, I cant guarantee it wont!)
Anyways, without further ado...
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Frank groaned as a host of smells and feelings he wished he could forget flooded his senses. Once more he could feel tarmac underneath him, and the acrid scent of burning filled his nostrils. He opened his eyes, staring once again through the same haze he remembered from the last time. He sprang to his feet and swung round, taking in his whole surroundings.
He once again stood in London, only this time he was standing in Parliament Square. Whitehall, once the heart of government, blazed fiercely behind him, billowing smoke into the air. As he turned, he could see Westminster abbey, one of it's once majestic towers having collapsed across the road, crushing the building opposite it. As he swerved yet still, he froze.
Checkpoints and fortified positions came into view, defending the Houses of Parliament and the green beside it, which had been hastily turned into a helipad. Statues that had once stood proudly now, like the rest of the city, lay desolate on the floor, unheeded by the soldiers who had thrown them down to make way for helicopters. He threw his hands up in the air, preparing to plead with the myriads of soldiers not to shoot him.
"They can't see you Frank, and even if they did they wouldn't be able to shoot you."
Frank, hands still above his head, turned to face the voice. Hudson stood there again, obviously amused at the human's needless gesture of surrender.
"You!" Frank bellowed, pacing towards him angrily. "Why are you doing this to me? Why have you brought me back here?"
Hudson smiled,
"Ah, so you no longer believe these are just mere dreams then?"
"I don't give a damn what they are!" Frank shouted. "I just want them to stop," He looked back at the checkpoints, before staring at the wolf pleadingly. "I beg you to stop, please."
His voice cracked with the sheer emotions that coursed through him. The wolf remained silent. Without saying another word, he walked past Frank, towards the mass of soldiers.
"Do you remember who the commanding officer of this particular battalion was?" Hudson called back.
Frank remained where he stood, fighting against all the emotions raging inside of him.
"Of course I do," he growled flatly.
"Then let's go say hello, shall we?" Hudson shouted back in a casual tone.
Frank was in two minds. He looked down at the firestorm that was once Whitehall, and then at the collapsed abbey and cursed; even if he wanted to take flight, he had to run in the very same direction that Hudson was walking. He took a deep breath, pushing his anger down, trying to regain a modicum of calm. After a while he broke out into a jog to join the wolf, by now trotting gingerly across the helipad. Frank slowed down, keeping an even pace with the wolf that was now dragging him towards his past. His mind raced wildly, trying to find anything to keep his mind off of what he was about to face.
"Are you really Hudson?" He asked gruffly.
"No," The wolf replied breezily. "But you already knew that, so get to what you are really asking."
"Ok then; what are you?" He asked. Hudson looked up at him and smirked.
"I could be your concussion, or even your fever speaking for all you care," He said. "So what use is my answering that question? You've already made up your mind on the matter."
Frank nodded at the fairness of the assessment, though he was still angry.
"Fine," He muttered in irritation. "Can we get this over and done with then?"
The wolf chuckled. "All in good time, Mr. Howard," He murmured. "All in good time."
They walked past the defensive perimeter with an ease that surprised Frank. As he looked around, he finally focussed on where they were going, and he juddered to a halt when he looked ahead at a fresh faced Captain he once knew. A man who still haunted him in his darkest moments. Before he could protest, he had the eerie feeling of someone walking through him, as if he wasn't even there. Frank recognised the man as a much, much younger Charlie.
"Sir!" Charlie saluted. The captain looked up from the mess of maps and screens that littered the desk in front of him and nodded,
"At ease," He said. "Charlie, please give me some good news."
"The only good news I have is that the surviving members of the Royal family are airborne and are headed for Canada, Frank," Charlie replied, evidently troubled. "I also have our orders, but you're not gonna like them."
The younger Frank looked perturbed, but brought himself under control quickly.
"What are they?" He asked calmly.
Charlie paused ambivalently. "Once we get as many MPs out as we can, we are ordered to fall back and regroup with the 2nd and 7th divisions stationed at Watford. Similar orders have been given to troops south of the river, to regroup with the 4th and 8th in Wimbledon."
"What?" The younger Frank exclaimed. "Why?"
"Command has decided London cannot be held," Charlie replied in an impressive mix of discipline and dismay. "The moment His Majesty's Government is safe, fighter jets will be deployed from RAF Northolt, with orders to..." Charlie's discipline cracked slightly; both Franks could see his eyes well up. "...to bomb every bridge over the Thames, in order to cut off the insurgents from each other. London has officially been declared a hostile city to be recaptured."
The older Frank turned from the scene unfolding, tears streaking down his face. "Please," He begged to Hudson. "End this. I can't take this anymore."
Hudson looked at him impassively. "You need to see this," He stated quietly. "In time, you will understand."
"Damn your understanding!" Frank spat hatefully. "There's no reason for me to remember this nightmare."
Hudson didn't respond verbally, merely by gesturing back towards the exchange. Begrudgingly, Frank turned back.
Charlie watched his newly promoted commanding officer and long standing friend as he slumped onto the stool beneath him. A subdued atmosphere took hold of everyone in earshot.
"What are your orders, sir?" He asked. The younger Frank stood up, recomposing himself.
"We're British officers," He replied coldly. "And we have been given orders from British High Command, and it is our duty to obey," He shot a firm, yet disturbed, glance at Charlie. "Issue the orders as they were given to you."
Frank saw Charlie visibly wince, as if from a pain deep down. The older Frank watched in dismay as the penny dropped for both his younger counterpart, and Charlie; that what had started as the worst terrorist attack in history was about to become the biggest bloodbath Europe had seen in almost a century, of that he was sure. But he took a deep breath and saluted.
"Yes sir." He muttered, before walking purposefully away. His radio halted him, as it thundered into life.
"Contact!" every radio screeched in unison. "Commons bridge! There are thousands of them!"
Frank and Charlie looked at each other apprehensively.
"Get the government out," Frank ordered, grabbing his rifle. "We don't have much time!"
Charlie nodded and broke out into a sprint towards to nearest entrance of Parliament. Within minutes the several Chinook helicopters that had landed across the square roared into life as streams of bedraggled men and women were being herded towards them by soldiers. The older Frank took one last glance at the stream of refugees that had once ruled the country, before his attention was caught by the sudden roaring of the mob that now lay across the river from them. He sprinted from where he stood, taking his place beside his younger self, right in the centre of the blockade that faced off the horde. He could see the fear in his eyes. The younger Frank, eyes still fixed on the mob, pressed his radio close to him.
"Command, this is Captain Howard," He shouted. "Enemy sighted, what are your orders?"
"This is Command," his radio sputtered back. "You are cleared to engage if intentions prove hostile."
Frank sighed; he was afraid they were going to say that.
"Roger, over and out." He replied. He switched his channel. "This is Captain Howard. Command has ordered us to fire if they attack. Take defensive positions."
The older Frank stood by, passively watching the events unfold. He had gone beyond pleading to be spared from watching this, but he still hoped...even prayed...that somehow events would be different. That it wouldn't happen the way he remembered. But then he saw it. As the mob pressed forward slowly, a rocket flew out from them. He instinctively ducked, but still watched it coursing through the air, before it swayed upwards, hitting one of the clock faces of St. Stephen's tower. He felt cold as he watched Big Ben explode, it's remnants spraying out in every direction, the hulking edifice of it's steepled roof falling sideways, crashing with ferocity onto the ground below.
"Open fire!" His younger self yelled. "Open fire!"
Frank screamed; all the years of suffering this moment had caused him bubbled to the surface, erupting out of him as he watched wave after wave of people felled by bullets on both sides. Sure enough, the mob retreated, dragging what few it could back across the river. As Chinooks flew over him, he saw the troops, his younger self included, pull back.
"Running would be a good idea!" Hudson shouted at him. Even as he spoke, he could see the fighters in the distance, appearing from the smoke like the harbingers of death that they were. Frank broke out into a sprint back towards the square, desirous of not being caught in their fire like the last time.
The sheer force of the impact behind him blew him off of his feet. He hit the tarmacked ground hard, being showered in debris and broken glass. Slowly, he sat up to stare blankly at the destruction. Already, the wailing and screaming from the other side of the river became deafening to him. He looked at the wolf, who had sat beside him.
"The death toll from us opening fire was sixty seven," He stated wearily. "A drop in the ocean compared to the ninety two thousand that's coming - one of them being my father - but these were different; these people were killed because I gave the order."
"Technically, Command gave the order." Hudson said gently. Frank shook his head, tears streaming silently down his face.
"Doesn't matter," He almost whispered. "I gave the order; their blood is on my hands," He felt broken inside, like he was when in the months after it had actually happened. He looked up at Hudson. "Please," He begged, "What more do you want from me? Let me go."
"Your answers can be found at Fort Halstead." The wolf muttered. Frank looked at him with incomprehension.
"What?" Was all he could muster.
Hudson smiled. "You heard me the first time, so I shan't repeat it. Time to wake up, Mr. Howard."
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Blinding white lights and booming voices welcomed him as he re-entered the waking world. He felt disoriented and dazed, but the very first thought that slipped into his mind was that he was no longer in pain. He groggily lifted himself up, planting his feet onto the floor. As he heaved himself off of the bed, his legs gave way and he crumpled to the floor with a thud.
"Movement is not recommended for a few minutes after the procedure has finished, as the paralytic has not fully worn off." The computer stated. Frank grunted.
Thanks for the advice, he voiced in his head.
"Morning."
Frank looked up, gazing blearily at the tiger staring back. He grinned, and tried to speak.
It disconcerted him when no sound came out. The tiger chuckled.
"Whatever stuff this thing gave us, one of it's effects seems to be complete loss of voice," Diego said quietly. "Don't worry- I got out not long before you and my voice works fine now!"
Frank moved out of his compromising position and settled himself against the bed he had lain on for three days.
"I...really...need...a...bath." He croaked hoarsely.
Diego smirked. "I could have told you that."
Frank chuckled coarsely.
"Thanks...bu..."
Frank trailed off as a distant scream echoed quietly. Both he and Diego looked quizzically at each other, and spent several minutes craning their necks, listening to the noise.
"That's Buck," Diego said in surprise. "And he's coming this way..."
"Are you sure?" Frank asked, now able to speak properly. Diego shot him a glance,
"Do you even need to ask?" The tiger growled, smiling.
Eventually, the scream slowly changed into maniacal laughter as it came closer and closer, until Buck suddenly skidded into the medical bay. Diego looked oddly at him.
"Buck, what are you doing?" He asked. The weasel breathed deeply, gripping his knife tightly.
"There's someone 'ere," He heaved. "Someone besides us, and 'es comin' this way!"
Frank quickly reached for his pistol and trained it keenly on the door entrance. A sudden flash of light erupted in the darkened hallway beyond, illuminating the outline of a human. The bullet missed them and slammed into a console at the back of the bay, shattering it completely. Frank, regaining a little more strength as the drugs wore off, yanked Diego off of the bed and ducked for cover.
"Hold your fire!" Frank shouted. "We are not your enemy!"
"Coalition scum!" The human screamed, firing more bullets in their direction, shattering consoles all around them. They shielded themselves as glass showered over them. Frank quickly brushed himself off and took a quick glance beyond the bed, yanking his head quickly back as the human fired even more. He took another glance and fired several shots in the human's direction.
"I have you cornered," The human yelled. "Surrender now and the European War Council might treat you with leniency!"
Buck and Diego looked at Frank quizzically.
"Wot's he talking about?" Buck asked. "Wot's the European War Council?"
Frank checked his ammo attentively. "That's a conversation for another time," He grunted as yet another bullet smashed a nearby screen. "Ya know, one where we're not under fire."
Buck nodded. Without a word, he grabbed the other pistol that still sat holstered in Frank's pocket. Both Frank and Diego looked at him in alarm. The weasel shot a grin at both of them,
"I've seen 'im use this plenty of times!" He said. He hauled the pistol, suddenly looking much larger in the weasel's arms, onto the bed, using his arm to squeeze the trigger. To Frank's surprise, he took the recoil in his stride, and continued to fire, only to quickly jump down as more bullets tore the bed to shreds.
"Come out," The human shouted. "The western coalition has been defeated! You have nowhere to run!"
"What's going on here?"
Frank, Buck and Diego all shared horrified looks as they heard the new voice.
"Crap," Frank muttered before shouting out at the top of his voice, "Sid! Get back!"
To their horror, they heard yet more gunfire, but no longer aimed at them.
Diego immediately tensed up, and jumped out from his cover, roaring with rage.
"NO!" He yelled.
The human, confused at to who to point at, paused. Frank took full use of this and jumped up, swerved round, and fired several shots. The human cried out in pain, dropping his pistol. As fast as he could, he scuffled away, back into the shadows. Diego, Frank and Buck thought twice about going after him, so worried were they about Sid.
Diego ran up the corridor, turning the corner, looking desperately for the sloth.
"Sid!" He screamed. Within seconds, his neck was wrapped in a near death grip by the terrified sloth. For once, Diego didn't resist the embrace; he could literally feel his friend shaking in terror. As Frank and Buck skidded round the corner, they both heaved a sigh of relief.
"Thank God," Frank exclaimed. "Sid, are you hurt?"
"He's fine," Diego replied. "Shaken up, but ok. I'll stay with him, you go find that scumbag."
Frank scanned every direction and cursed under his breath. "The base is massive," He mumbled. "I wouldn't even know where to start..."
Buck, pistol now slung over his shoulder instead of his knife, looked over at him oddly.
"'ow about following that trail?" He stated plainly, pointing at the floor by the infirmary. As Frank and Buck moved in for a closer look, it became clear; blood, and a lot of it.
"Whoever he is, he's dying," Frank said quietly. "Come on, Buck!"
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They swerved through the corridors in a near sprint, following the trail of blood. As they ran into the Mess Hall, they slowed to a halt; the human lay in the corner, slumped onto the floor. Frank and Buck trained their respective weapons on him, glaring at him.
"Why did you attack us?" Frank growled. The human looked up with glazed eyes.
"Coalition scum," He murmured, spitting out some blood. "You killed everyone else. Are you now here to kill me?"
"We are not members of the Coalition!" Frank yelled.
The human looked up at him in genuine surprise.
"You're...you're not Coalition?" He said in confusion. Frank looked at the blood and lowered his weapon and his voice; it suddenly hit him that he was yelling at a dying man.
"No, we're not," Frank said quietly, kneeling down beside him. "We're half of a herd that got separated..." Frank paused, realizing how nonsensical it sounded. "...I was a member of the first expedition through time."
The human's eyes widened. "The expedition!" He gasped, blood still trickling from his wounds. "What's your name?"
"My name is Frank Howard." He replied quietly.
The man smiled slightly. "The man who killed time," He whispered, smiling a little more at the irony. "Or rather, the one who paved...the way for us to do so."
Frank noticed the pause, noting mentally that the human's body was shutting down.
Last chance to get answers, he thought.
"What happened here?" Frank asked pointedly. The human reached for his pocket, and slowly pulled out what looked like an ID card.
"This will grant you...access...to the computer system..." The human murmured. As he grew more and more limp, he looked longingly at Frank. "Forgive me for shooting at you," He whispered. "I thought you were..."
Frank placed his hand gently on his shoulder. "There's nothing to forgive," He replied. "Just a cruel misunderstanding."
The human took one last, deep breath. "Forgive us also...for what...we've...done..."
He slumped, still staring up at Frank, and breathed his last. Frank took the ID card from his hand, and looked again at the now lifeless eyes, and closed his eyes, trying hard to hold back the tears, but failed; his vivid dream, and the brokenness he had felt, now stung deeply. He looked down at the human whose life he had just cut off through tear filled eyes. "I'm sorry," He whispered. "Oh God, I'm so sorry..."
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The sun had vanished from above the herd, concealed behind dark and menacing clouds. As they walked onwards, it began to drizzle. Within minutes the light spray had turned into fierce, driving rain. The ground they walked on turned to deep mud almost instantly, interspersed by little streams of rainwater. The cliffs to their right had turned into sporadic waterfalls as the rain only got harder.
Hudson and Manny were at the front of the bedraggled group, leading the way. He peered ahead, increasingly aware that visibility had shrunk to just beyond his tusks, so heavy was the downpour. Suddenly, like a spectre in the mist, there emerged a sight that made the pachyderm's heart sink.
He stared dejectedly at the cliff ahead of them, hidden so effectively by the rain until that point, at the road they were standing on, which split at its base, each way going an entirely separate direction. Hudson, seemingly unfazed by the drenching he was receiving, trotted up to the road, sniffing intently.
"Blast," He muttered. "The rain's washed away any scent; I haven't got a clue which direction we're supposed to go."
Manny sighed. "I was worried you'd say that," He replied. "Cos I can't remember which way it is either..."
Hudson glared at him. "You can't remember?" He spluttered. "You've walked this route before, and mammoths are supposed to have excellent memory! How can you possibly forget?"
"Wolves are supposed to have great sense of smell, but I don't see you finding us a direction!" Manny retorted angrily.
The wolf paced towards him fiercely. "There's no scent to follow," He growled. "Because the rain has washed it away! What's your excuse, lost your brain?"
Charlie, within earshot, could hear the raised voices. Pre-emptively, he placed himself between the two of them, his arms outstretched.
"Easy, guys!" He said calmly. "Clearly the weather's frayed a few nerves here! Let's just take a deep breath and find another solution, ok?"
Hudson paused, closing his eyes for a few moments. He straightened out and became calm once more, as if nothing had happened.
"Sorry about that Manny," He said quietly. "I guess I'm a little on edge at the moment."
The mammoth nodded. "Me too, so don't worry," He replied. "Now, back to our current problem..."
He trailed as all three of them stared silently as the sabres walked past them, taking the left route.
"When you're finished arguing fellahs, feel free to join us!" Max shouted back. Hudson and Manny exchanged a curious glance.
"How do you know it's that way?" Hudson asked. Max looked at him oddly.
"This is the Migration route, we know it well! Lots of prey travels along it every year," He answered, still looking confused. "...you have migrated before, haven't ya?"
Hudson shrugged. "In all honesty, I haven't."
"So you've been in the south all your life?" Manny asked. Hudson smirked.
"Not exactly..." He stated.
Manny shot him a quizzical look, but let it drop; he was wet and weary, and wanted to find somewhere dry - such a question can wait. One by one, the herd moved to follow the sabres, hoping that Glacier Pass was much nearer than they thought.
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Diego, Sid and Buck stood by and watched sombrely as Frank buried the man who, just an hour ago, had been trying to kill them. They stood silently as he dug a hole for the man in the centre of the massive open grounds in-between the complex's structures, and looked on in interest as he fashioned a cross from two pieces of scrap metal nearby. None of them knew his name, or even where he came from, but somehow none of that mattered; it felt right to give him a decent burial, regardless of the fact he had tried to kill them. Eventually, Frank walked back up to them, his face ashen and stony.
"What do we do now?" Sid asked. Frank glanced back at the fresh grave and then down at the card in his hand.
"The herd will be here in a few days," He muttered quietly. "Can you guys keep yourselves busy till then?"
Sid looked at him oddly. "Well, sure," He said. "But what will you be doing?"
Frank still looked at the card, but then gasped it tightly in his hand, and looked up at the towering structure they had been in.
"I'm going to learn what sort of bloody mess we've found ourselves in." He growled. He glanced one last time at the three of them, and walked off.
"Frank, wait!" Sid shouted. He tried to go after him, but was quickly held back by Buck.
"Don't, Sid," He said gently. "'e wants to be alone right now. Leave 'im be."
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The command centre of the based seemed chaotic, even to Frank. Scorch marks blackened the windows, which all lined the furthest wall. Everywhere he looked, he could see signs that it was evacuated in a hurry; broken screens lay on the floor, along with the odd skeleton strewn across the desks and floors.
As he scanned the room, he made out a door that different; whereas every other door on the base was bland steel, this one was made of wood and glass.
"Bingo." He muttered to himself.
The moment he opened the door, he knew he was right; he was standing in the commander's office. He stared at the elegant office in front of him; bookcases filled with antique books, interspersed with pictures of people he assumed was the commander's family and friends. At the end of the room stood a large mahogany desk, with a sword mounted on the wall behind it...
Frank froze, staring at the chair on the other side of the desk; he judged by the insignia on the shoulders that he was staring at the earthly remains of the commander himself. As he moved closer, he could see two letters on the desk, one printed and one handwritten, and a pistol still gripped in the deadman's right hand. Now standing directly opposite, he spun the letters round to read them. There was only one line written by hand on the paper, and he sighed as he read it,
All is lost. May God have mercy on me, on us all, for what we've done.
Frank took one more glance at the man before him; he now saw the hole in the side of his head, on the same side as the pistol. He took a deep breath, before turning to the other letter, this one printed. He pulled out one of the chairs that lay on his side of the desk and sat down to read;
To the commander of Fort Halstead, circa 17,994BC,
It is with great regret that I write to inform you of the situation as it currently stands. Whilst the war has officially ended, the damage it has caused across several timespans has proven to be irreparable. The use of chemical, biological and thermonuclear weapons by both sides has annihilated approximately 87% of all life in all theatres of war. The damage caused has rendered it highly likely that all human life, irrespective of the era, will become extinct within several years of this message. Whilst we will attempt to save the remnants of humanity, it is unlikely that we shall succeed, since what is left of the Western Coalition have determined to not allow our faction to survive if their own continuity is not guaranteed. You are now one of the last bastions of humanity, and thus the Phoenix Contingency is in effect. Be advised that you are officially the last great target of the enemy. Prepare yourselves. This is the last communication you are likely to receive from us, as the condition of the timeline has rendered travel, both physical and digital, across it highly unstable. Good luck and Godspeed.
God have mercy on you, and all of us, for what we have done.
Farewell,
Matthew Parker
Atlantic High Command
October 7th, 2169
Frank sat back in his chair, stunned beyond all feeling. Without knowing how any of this happened, he now knew the results. As he looked around at the furnishings, pictures and comforts of his surroundings, he now saw them in a different light; relics of a dead civilisation - of a species, his species - that had quite literally annihilated all trace of itself from history, bar destruction.
He suddenly felt very alone, and angry so strong that words couldn't describe it. In sheer, frustrated rage, he slammed his fist into the desk.
"Why didn't you listen?" He screamed into the air. "I warned you of this! I told you this could happen!"
He knew they couldn't hear him; 20,000 years separated them and him, but it felt better to let it out rather than hold it in.
"This is what I wanted to prove to you, to warn you of! But you didn't bloody listen, did you?"
Even as he bellowed he could picture the faces of the men and women who had shattered his illusions, and whom he forced the expedition out of, in a forlorn attempt to stop them...
He let out a harsh, humourless laugh; it all seemed so petty now, so futile. He realised who was to blame wasn't the question he wanted to dwell on. He wanted the facts; he wanted to know the story.
He wanted the truth.
He walked around to the commander's side of the desk and carefully moved his remains, placing them gently on the floor. Frank made a mental note to bury him later, but turned his immediate attention to the computer. He reached into his pocket, drawing out the ID card he had been given, and slotted into the only hole it seemed to fit in, and watched as the computer immediately sprang to life.
"Ident-card confirmed. Access authorised." The computer stated. Frank leant back in the chair, breathing a sigh of relief.
Time to find out what went so wrong, he thought acridly.
-x-x-x-x-x-x- Thanks for reading ! Take care all!
END OF CHAPTER 25
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