Thanks to: Readergirl99, shiningpearls, The Littlest Mouse, kunoichi, Jolinnnn, Shadow914, 6000j, Steinbock and ghost235 for the reviews!
Thank-you for your patience! Sorry for leaving you all on a cliff-hanger like that. Busy weekend and I refuse to post substandard stuff anyway, but definitely not this close to the end of the fic.
WARNINGS: Swearing, threat of death, injury... just what you would expect from a Wolfy fic, really.
*NEXT CHAPTER IS THE FINAL UPDATE SO LAST CHANCE TO GET ON THE REVIEWERS' ROLL CALL*
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
The Eleventh Hour
Country Backroads, County Dublin
"Tell them to radio for help and stay with them until you're sure its coming!" Dom shouted over his shoulder as he hurtled down the road towards the cries.
Artemis, never one for following orders, was pleased to see the farmer's sons had already fired up the quadbike to investigate the upturned Mini, saving him making the surprisingly far run back to the most recent marshal point at the five-bar-gate. He flagged them down, with his notepad.
"You there - where's your radio? You need to call for help!"
"You and that giant kid get out alright?" the older lad driving the bike asked, peering through Henry's smashed windows. "Looked like a bloody bad crash..."
"We're fine - I think Devlin has come off worse - where is your radio?"
"Devlin?"
"Yes! Romeo! The one who organised this blasted event!"
"No, I know who you mean," the teenager said, scratching his chin frustratingly unbothered."It's just not like him to crash - are you sure?"
"Yes I'm damn sure!" Artemis snapped; although in reality it as Junior who was sure of it, he had long since learned to believe the boy. "He crashed straight into us and careered down the bank - I saw it!"
Another slight lie, but it wasn't hard to predict the outcome of the shunt.
"Is it bad?" asked the boy on the back of the bike - the younger brother of the driver.
"There's a lot of screaming," Artemis elaborated. "Where is your radio - I'll do it myself!"
The older of the marshals flapped his hands over his pockets, then twisted around to his brother.
"Have you got it?"
"No - you said I'd lose it!"
"And have you?"
"No! You had it!"
"Shit - it must be up at the gate..."
"Well go find it or someone who has one!" Artemis shouted, as he turned away to follow after Junior as fast as under-muscled legs could carry him.
Perhaps after all this, he really would take Butler up on his offer to create an exercise program...
The Lancia Stratos rested, weeping a mixture of fuel and oil onto the undergrowth, the engine giving the occasional 'tink tink tink' of contracting metalwork as it cooled.
It was apparent to Dom, once he had got close enough, that upon clipping the rear of his opponent's vehicle, Romeo had lost control of his own car and – with none of the training of the fifteen-year-old Butler – had careered onwards and off the road, quite spectacularly bouncing the car off several trees before it came to rest against a particularly large one.
It was the right way up, but it must have rolled at least once, for the roof was crumpled inwards just like Henry's; the navigator crying out from inside the wreckage.
Junior bent his knees and slid down the steep bank towards the wreck on his feet, assessing the situation rapidly; this was on the edge of what he could deal with solo. That conclusion already being tempered by his nature and nurtured belief that, as a member of his particularly renown family, he could do pretty much anything. It really was going to be a stretch to clear this whole thing up on his own.
"What do we do?" Artemis – who held a similar belief of his companion's kin – panted at his only available Butler as he arrived, slipping down the wet bank like a newborn foal.
"I'm not sure yet," he said, darting around to the driver's side of the car.
First things first, he should probably see how many lives he was dealing with. One was apparent enough from the cries for help. But the other was notably absent.
Always see to the quiet ones first, Doctor Chigrakov, the Academy's chief medic, had warned them in Emergency First Aid classes way back in First Year. If they're screaming, they're breathing...
"Did they call it in?" Dom asked Artemis from the far side of the car, placing his fingers on Romeo's neck briefly.
"They're going to - yes," Artemis assured him.
He was annoyed, but not surprised the Fowl had followed him when he had asked him to stay a safe distance away.
Thud, thud, thud...
He was alive then. Not in great shape, but breathing and with a pulse - which was fortunate for the Devlin heir, for after the past few days, Dom would almost have thought twice about beginning to administer CPR to the young man.
"Is he..." Artemis asked, hesitantly.
"He's alive. But go back and tell the marshals we need the professionals on this one," Dom said grimly. "Someone needs to get to the nearest phonebox or farmhouse or whatever and call them in."
It was a Butler phrase. A euphemism of sorts. Code for the need for specialist medical equipment beyond what they carried with them. Artemis caught it all the same. He'd heard it before, after all.
"Oh my god is Rom dead? Is he breathing? Oh my god am I gonna die? I don't wanna die! I'm trapped - please help me, man! Get me out!"
"Alright, alright - shut up, you're not dying! And what the hell do you think I'm trying to do? Just be patient!" Junior snapped at the navigator in frustration, turning to Artemis with a grim expression not suited to his young face. Not an hour earlier he had been cheering and laughing in the storm like an average teenager. And now... "Tim - please. We need proper help. Go send for it."
Artemis took one more look at Romeo Devlin's deathly still, pale face and didn't argue.
Despite his protesting lungs, he stumbled back up the wooded embankment to the country lane towards the farmers' sons who were reporting the incident into the blocky radio. He could hear the hubbub of shock and panic through the tinny speaker, mirroring that of the boys with the ATV.
"Tell them to send for an ambulance!" he ordered them.
"But the police…"
"Sod the police finding out – we need paramedics!" Artemis snapped rattling of questions rapidly. "Where's the nearest telephone? Are there any down the road? Where's the nearest house?"
"Our farm is about a mile that way," said the teenager driving the quad. "But..."
"Then get home as quickly as you can and call the emergency services!"
"Dad's gonna be so mad..." the younger of the boys said miserably.
"Your father is the least of our worries if you don't go and get help quickly!"
"But Romeo said..."
"Romeo may well be dead if we don't get professional help!" Artemis told them sharply. "I don't care what he said; his judgement has been seriously brought under question this evening!"
Had Artemis Fowl's bodyguard been present, it was quite possible he would have laughed in the young man's face at the hypocrisy of that statement. But, thankfully for his principal, he was not - on account of the fact he was currently abroad, glaring disapprovingly at the alcoholic beverages of most of the rest of the Irish billionaire's skiing party's security team over the rim of his pint of coke and hoping his father would pick up his message on the car-phone that 'the boys' were 'up to something' he could 'just sense it' and hoping further than the man would take the warning seriously and not pass it off as distance-induced paranoia.
"Oh shit," breathed the older brother. "Is it really that bad?"
"Yes it's that bad! Now pull yourself together and go get us some help!"
The teenager started the quad up again and this time his brother gripped him around the hi-viz vested waist as he spun it around, the engine roaring away down the B-road as they sped for assistance.
Artemis, placed his hands on his knees and took several, deep breaths.
"Good Lord, I am so unfit..." he bemoaned to himself, as he turned to slog back towards the Lancia. "Major, come back - all is forgiven..."
Back at the crash-site, Junior had given up trying to get a coherent response from both occupants of the vehicle and had run around to the passenger side to focus on the conscious casualty.
"You – navigator – can you move your legs ok?" he demanded.
"I think… I think I'm alright. But Rom – Romeo's…"
"Forget about him right now. I'm going to get you out first," Dom said, leaning through the window to assess his 'patient' for lower limb injuries. Nothing obvious - no bones poking through the skin as far as he could see, which was good enough for him. "What's your name?"
"Ah Thomas... Tom," he stammered. "My name's Tom."
"Are you hurt, Tom?"
"I think I've broken my arm!" he groaned, gripping his left wrist.
"That's alright," Dom said, distractedly.
"Alright?" the navigator wailed. "What do you mean alright? It fucking hurts!"
"Well you don't need your arms to walk!" Dom said dismissively. "Now just do as I say and I'll get you out of here."
"Whatever gets me out of this car, whatever your name is. JB?"
Dom knew for sure this acne-blighted twenty year old had heard every word of Romeo's taunting earlier and could probably remember what he had asked to be called if he engaged his shock-addled brain for more than a minute, but he answered him anyway.
"Just call me Junior - if you call me minibeast I'm going to leave you in the car with him, got it?"
The joke didn't seem to lighten the mood as the young Butler grabbed the doorhandle and gave it a sharp tug. Nothing happened. Either the mechanism had been jammed on impact, or it was no longer connected to the door lock at all.
"Right. Through the window then. Come on – release your harness, would you?"
"You're not really going to leave him are..." Tom asked, fumbling for the release buckle on his chest.
"No, but I'm not going to get myself killed getting him out of here either," Dom said, grimly. "And the longer you piss about, Tom, the more likely that's looking."
"What? Why? What's happen..."
"Just get out of the damn car!" the young Butler said, grabbing him by the shoulder and helping him slide through the bent window-frame.
With some yelping, Thomas was stood on his own two feet - albeit a little shakily - by the time Artemis arrived for the second time, looking as though he had been involved in a five kilometre foot-pursuit, where PD Dubsy had been the pursuer.
"The two marshals at the gate are going to telephone for the emergency services. Shouldn't be too long," he reported, wheezily.
"Ah great - OK, Tim this is Tom, Tom this is Tim - nice and easy to remember, eh?" Dom said brightly, slightly miffed he couldn't in present company reveal his own name quite completed the set.
Tim, Tom, Rom and Dom, stood in a wood with a car like a bomb...
What the hell, brain?
He shook his head to clear the giggling hysteria of the very small part of him that was still a scared teenager. Now was the time for his trained side to have full control of the situation.
"Right - if you two head back up the bank and wait for the ambulance," he said, planning aloud. "Flag it down. I'll grab Master Devlin here and meet you up there."
"Shouldn't we wait for the paramedics to move him?" Artemis asked quietly, trying to stop his hands from shaking so much. There was a fluttering noise coming from them. He looked down; he still had the instructions in his grip. How silly it all seemed now.
Dom looked at him with a seriousness that belied his age. "We need to get away from this car. We can't wait that long."
Artemis looked at where the other boy's dark eyes had flicked towards. The petrol tank had ruptured in the crash; that much was evident by the smell. Some electric component of the car was still functioning somewhat, for the headlights were still on but dim and flickering... It didn't take a genius to work out what the risks were.
The canopy above was thick; so thick that the undergrowth was still dry in places. Pine needles and dead branches, littering the ground like tinder and kindling...
"I see," he said, his tongue suddenly tacky at the thought.
"Get him away, OK? To the other side of our car or further," Dom ordered, climbing over the roof of the Lancia to get to the other side. "As far away as possible. And Tim – don't come back down here. Secure a perimeter and keep those other idiots back - up on the road, if they turn up. I can get Romeo out by myself."
"But…" Artemis started to say. He suddenly, despite his upbringing, had a strange compulsion come over him. He didn't want to let the younger teen put himself in danger while he stood there doing nothing...
"Thomas there needs keeping calm," Dom said, jerking his thumb at the navigator. "He's going into shock and I need you to make sure he doesn't pass out somewhere not-useful. And besides that, I'm.. Well I'm supposed to protect you."
"You are obligated to do no such thing!" Artemis said, mouth a thin line. "Payroll, remember?"
Junior, smiled uneasily and shrugged. "Just call me your volunteer lifesaver."
Artemis sighed, irritably. "I do hope you realise, Junior - I'm expecting a lot from you as a future bodyguard if thus far has been the 'free trial'..."
Dom flashed him a grin. "I promised my uncle - don't make me go back on that. Please."
"OK," Artemis said, running one hand through his hair. "Maybe I can come back and help..."
Time was ticking by and Domovoi knew they had not enough of it to waste any more arguing.
"You will be helping! If you get him away and keep the other back – that's how I need you to help," he said, physically pushing the Fowl towards safety. "Now please go!"
Artemis gritted his teeth, but threw the injured boy's good arm over his shoulder and began to pull him up the mulchy incline towards the road. He could hear the deep roar of some large car – the marshals on their way from helping McCormack, or else one of the defeated competitors, perhaps – speeding towards them anyway. In a matter of minutes he could leave Romeo's friend with them and go back to helping Junior.
Dom felt more relief than he probably ought to, being stood so close to a potential explosion. He had thought Artemis wouldn't listen to him, and if anything happened to him…
Filing that for later consideration, he reached into the driver's side door and slapped first the release on Romeo's harness and second the young man's face, sharply.
"Hey – Devlin. Romeo. Can you hear me? Hey!"
He knuckled his sternum firmly and the Devlin heir's eyes rolled forward. For a moment he blinked silently.
And then he started to make a noise Dom would associate more with a labouring ewe, than a human being.
"Oh God. Oh Goddd…" he groaned. "What the fuck...?"
"Alright, welcome back to the land of the living," Dom said, with the enthusiasm of a gameshow host. "Let's get you out of here."
He tugged the straps free of the harness clasp, pulling Romeo forward in his seat to do so; he yelled in pain.
Good. Screaming was good. Right?
"Alright, shut up now," he said, losing patience. "I need you to help me, help you here. Can you push with your legs at all?"
"Oh God, no…"
"Stop it!" Dom slapped his cheek again, firmly. "Concentrate on what I'm saying, Romeo. Can you push with your legs?"
"What the fuck are you asking me stupid questions for - just get me out!" the eldest Devlin son demanded and Dom suddenly wished he was dealing with Vince instead. At least then he might have some sort of pain threshold to work with.
"I'm fucking trying to - the door's fucked!" Dom growled, flipping the boy's shoulders out of the harness. One arm was oddly limp and caused another screech of pain when he pulled it.
Most likely dislocated shoulder from fighting with the wheel and hitting the doorframe, the 'trauma identification' part of his brain noted. The young man's right thumb was bent at an odd angle, too. Obviously he had not followed basic off-road driving protocol when it came to holding a steering wheel safely.
The headlights flickered violently and suddenly there was a pop under the bonnet, an acrid, plasticky smell beginning to emanate from it.
Dom felt his heart-rate jump another notch. An arcing battery would be enough to light the fuel lines. And if that happened, the half-full tank would engulf them in a fiery inferno.
Dom leaned through the window and tried to pull Romeo up towards him. The Devlin howled as loudly as any would-be-welcome siren and Dom had to dig deep not to lose his temper.
"Stop screaming and grab hold of my arm with your other hand," he ordered, leaning into the car.
"Get off, get off, get off - that fucking hurts! I'll do it myself, damnit!" Romeo snapped at him, pulling away from him.
"You'll never get out this window with that arm - give me your good one!" Dom warned.
Romeo begrudgingly flapped his fingers weakly towards him but somehow managed to grab hold of the material of Dom's t-shirt.
A vehicle up on the road pulled to a controlled stop, a door slamming swiftly behind them. Artemis shouted something. He sounded... relieved?
There was genuine smoke coming from the crumpled lip of the bonnet now. Seconds later the Lancia's horn began to blare even louder and more constant than its driver as some wire or other melted in the heat.
It seemed too soon to be the emergency services, but either way he couldn't wait for them to get a spinal board. Once he got Devlin out, they could assess the damage properly. Under these circumstances, paralysis was surely preferably to being burnt to a crisp.
"On three I'm going to pull, alright?" Dom said.
It wasn't exactly a question, but Romeo gritted his teeth and nodded, his face pale as the moon that had begun to break through the thinning clouds above them now the storm had passed.
"Just do it already!"
"You push with your legs, I'll pull you towards me. One…"
The horn muted out any other noise, smoke billowing over them now, ragingly hot and suffocatingly thick.
Dom held his breath and sped up his countdown. "Two, three!"
He hauled him halfway out of the car, the other boy's legs catching on the lip of the broken window - he kicked and scrabbled and Dom almost fell over. The horn died suddenly and there was a moment where neither of them could see or hear anything in the smoke.
"Move! Dom coughed, hauling Romeo with him.
And then someone barrelled into the pair of them; two large, firm hands grabbing them away from the wreck and throwing them backwards, using their combined moment to roll them both down the hill. For a second more there was nothing but Romeo's scream of pain in their ringing ears. And then;
"Stay down, boy!"
Dom had barely raised his head to see who their assistance had come from, when the darkness was split by a deafening boom of an explosion, colour bursting into life and dying just as quickly as fire licked at the trees. Dom shielded the injured teen with his body, but whoever had helped him seemed to be doing just as good a job at protecting the both of them at once. There was a second, smaller explosion and then the man leaned backwards into a crouch, offering him a hand.
"Alright, that should be that. Let's move, I don't want you here when the police arrive."
Dom looked up at the face, silhouetted in the orange light from the growing fire.
There was only two people he knew with that size of profile and one of them he knew for sure was currently most likely very reluctantly engaging in small-talk with his employer's drunken skiing buddies' only other sober bodyguard.
"Pa?!" he spluttered on the smoke. "How...?"
"Who else, vnuk?" said his grandfather. "And never you mind how. I'm here, aren't I? That's the important part. Now come on. I'll carry this kid, you pick us a route back to the road."
Dom wasted no more time contemplating how the hell his grandfather had found them, let alone arrived at just the right moment to avoid him becoming part of the main course on a cannibal's barbecue, and threaded his way back through the trees. The fire was blazingly hot. Dom hoped the people Artemis had sent to call the emergency services had thought to ask for the fire brigade as well, for it wouldn't be unlikely the initial blaze would turn into a full blown forest fire.
He kept his eyes away from the burning light, turning back only to offer help at the steeper edge.
"Get on with you – do I look like I need help?" the elder Butler growled and Dom didn't offer again, instead going on ahead to the road.
"Tim – over here!" he coughed through the smoke, spotting the Fowl inching closer to the burning car, doubtlessly looking for them against orders from Butler.
"Oh thank God! For a second I thought…"
"I know. But we're fine. My grandpa is bringing Romeo now."
"Impeccable timing by Butler there, wasn't it? How did he kno…"
"Ask later. We need to get out of here. Can that Tom guy walk OK?"
"I think so."
Alexandr Butler pushed himself up easily onto the road with his strong legs, the teenager slung over his shoulder whimpering at the jerks he experienced with every step. Domovoi knew from his own personal experience that his grandfather was perfectly capable of carrying someone without even the slightest jostle. He was being careless on purpose, it would seem.
"Good God – is he always this whiny?" Xandr snorted.
"I'm afraid I suspect so, Butler," Artemis piped up. "Although admittedly the last time I saw him injured, it was it was at the hands of Junior back at the party that debateably started this whole debacle..."
Dom shook his head silently in the periphery of the bodyguard's vision. The less said about that the better.
"Yes," Alexandr said, raising an eyebrow. "I suspect we will get to the bottom of why you presumably ordered my grandson to partake in this charade, young sir. But now is neither the time nor the place."
"Should we wait for the fire brigade? Or the ambulance?" the Fowl heir asked, keen to avoid the subject.
"Not unless you want to also wait for the police, who will likely get here first, I should imagine," Xandr said, dryly.
"Ah... yes, of course..." Artemis mumbled.
"I think that's a beacon enough to guide them in to where they're required, wouldn't you say, Master Fowl?" he said, gesturing the ablaze car with a stern look.
"Yes... yes I suppose," agreed Artemis again, meekly.
"Get in the car, boys."
Artemis turned to the upturned Mini with a sense of resignation, but Dom smiled as he saw a sleek form crouched, waiting for them in the half-light.
"No, Artemis – not the deathtrap," Butler sighed exasperatedly as he marched his motley troop towards their ride. "The Bentley. And keep your damn feet on the mats it's bad enough the seats will get damp with being clartered up with fertiliser. Go on; we need to get these two to somewhere more accessible. No way an ambo is getting down that field track and it'll get caught up behind the police cars and the fire truck if it comes along this road."
"Butler," said Artemis as the five of them reached the Fowl's vehicle – Alexandr's car of choice was the Rolls Royce, so of course he had brought his son's preferred car to the muddy backroads. "Just how exactly did you get the Bentley down the track, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Well young sir, I would ask you to buckle your seatbelt," Butler said, dropping Devlin unceremoniously through the back door next to his nervous navigator and gesturing Artemis to follow after him onto the bench seat. "Because you're about to experience a firsthand demonstration. Junior – up front. You still have the pacenotes for this Wacky Racers course, I take it?"
"Here," Artemis said, handing it to his friend/future employee. "We're about halfway down the page."
Dom took one look at the scrawled instructions and nodded. "Got it."
The Butlers got into the car, passenger and driver doors slamming almost simultaneously.
"Alright, Youngblood. Give it to me," Butler said, starting the engine.
Artemis reached for his seatbelt.
What occurred in the next four minutes and thirty eight seconds was possibly the most terrifying car journey he had ever been in – and that included that time they were being shot at by several pursuing vehicles – yet Butler managed it all with little more than a slight grimace over The Humps Mark II, as the Bentley bounced a little heavily upon landing, the thin strip of rubber guarding the bumper hissing slightly on contact with the rough ground.
"Too damn heavy on the front end, this thing," he grumbled in complaint, but there was something that could be mistaken for a grin playing around his chiselled jaw as he swung the large vehicle around the next corner, his grandson keeping up easily with the navigation instructions, spouting them as though he could see the track a few seconds ahead before they even reached it. "Coupla bodies in the boot should level it out, eh Kingdom?"
Dom gave a grunt of agreement before continuing - not bothering to mention the fact that that was rich talk coming from a man who preferred a brand of vehicle that was almost entirely 'front end'.
"Next bit is a bit tricky – steep down, then into a hairpin, straight for a bit then a sharp right – crowd caution – finish line, then you're clear up to the road."
"Don't give me 'a bit then', boy, give me metres!"
It didn't say on the sheet, but Dom guessed easily. "1 in four drop, straight 30. Hairpin, 30, square right, 75. Finish line. Another quarter click to the A-road. There's a carpark on the right just before you get to the junction."
"Better."
The corners happened so quickly the back seat passengers felt like balls on a tilting pool table, slammed up against eachother so violently in the hairpin that Romeo screamed a protest as his damaged shoulder was crushed. Very briefly, it seemed, they straightened out, then the elder Butler in the front was asking about the corner where the crowd stood behind a concrete barrier.
"What's with the pool noodles?"
"Erm… they're for drifting, Pa," Dom said. "You know, spinning the back end of the car around a corner?"
"I know what drifting is, Kingdom," Xandr snorted derisively. "I asked you what's the craic with the foam sticks."
"Oh. Well, drivers try to hit them with their rear bumper to – you know, show how…" he gave a small shrug.
"How big their balls are," his grandfather deduced, with a barking laugh.
Alexandr Butler would never be accused of showboating – but that was partly because nobody would dare accuse him of anything – however personally, Artemis Fowl thought it was wholly unnecessary of his bodyguard's father – his father's bodyguard, no less – to slide the Bentley sideways with such velocity and cause three of the five occupants of the car to yelp in a sense of alarm just short of panic.
The Bentley skidded sideways with a roar of its engine, and the 'pool noodles' snapped in quick succession, the broken-off ends spinning up and over the herras fencing, sailing into the stalwart remnants of the crowd, who grabbed them as souvenirs, cheering and screaming in equal measure as the Bentley shot straight through the finishing line without even acknowledging the flag, ignoring the carpark and heading straight to the main A-road, where it finally drew to a stop, idling like a crouched beast ready to pounce again.
Alexandr looked to his grandson. Domovoi was grinning ear-to-ear.
"Just missing a handbrake turn at the end there, I reckon," he mused aloud.
"You shall not be repeating a description of that driving display to your uncle, is that understood young man?" his grandfather said dryly.
"Yessir," Dom beamed.
"Nor will you attempt to repeat it. Or at least not until you've got a few more hours of driving training behind you," he said, with a wry look. "Although how you expected me not to know exactly what you were up to this time is beyond me. We do have cameras in the garages, you know?"
Dom's grin faltered. "Sorry, Pa. I…"
"Save the explanation. I want you to drive Artemis back to the manor and lock up. I'll be back later tonight."
"Drive… drive home in this? Drive the Bentley?"
"Well what else are you planning to drive around here? Unless you've got another one of those ridiculous clown cars stashed in the bushes?"
"Erm… no sir. Understood."
The teen looked about as thrilled as he did apprehensive.
Alexandr got out of the car, moving to the back and all-but dragging the two young men that did not belong to the family he was sworn to protect, out of the car.
"Steady on, that's it – stand by the hedge – by the hedge, boy! Do You think I just dragged you out of a flaming car wreck to have you hit by the goddamn ambulance when it gets here? Chertov durak..."
Dom smiled slightly as the man muttered obscenities under his breath in Russian – that was his grandfather alright. He'd assessed the injuries to the other party, deemed them non-life-threatening and was now on the verge of launching into a rant about the 'youth of today' not being a patch on 'the good old days'. His grandson excluded from that generalisation, of course.
"Would you like us to stay, Butler?" Artemis asked, peering out of the safety of the Bentley. "We could give a statem…"
"Don't be ridiculous, Artemis," the Butler said; a little rudely, Artemis thought. "Junior is going to get you home and then both of you are to get a shower and go to bed. And if the garde come knocking, you will deny ever being here. They won't be able to prove it."
"But Butler the car…"
"I'll deal with the car, boy. Along with whatever else of a mess you've made that nears clearing up. Now go with Junior before your father has to hear about this, understood?"
"Yes Butler," Artemis said, dropping his head slightly. He did not appreciate being spoken to like a child by anyone, including the senior bodyguard. But then it had been a long time since the manservant had regularly taken orders from a teenager, and it would seem his charge's son had not yet earned his respect enough on that front. Artemis deigned to sulk quietly about it. The man was held in very high regard by both of his parents and indeed himself – and not without good reason, either, as the events of the evening had proven… once again. "I'm sorry for causing you trouble."
"Hmmph. I should think so," the man said, folding his arms across his massive chest. But at the look of abject forlorness on the youngest Fowl's face, his taciturn visage softened slightly. "But believe it or not, I too was young and reckless, once. We all make mistakes young sir, and well, nobody's died. This time."
Artemis didn't quite know how to respond to that. "Erm… yes. I suppose not. Fortunately."
But the giant bodyguard wasn't for starting a heart-to-heart – especially not centred around his rather dubious youthful antics involving the theft and subsequent joyriding of a military tank – and turned to his grandson instead.
"Well, get on home Junior. Take her steady. Don't draw attention to yourself – that ID of yours isn't going to hold up to professional scrutiny if you get pulled over. Indicate correctly, read the appropriate speed for the road conditions, don't..."
He left the sentence hanging with an expectant raise of his eyebrows.
"Do anything illegal whilst you're doing something illegal. Yessir," Dom finished the order. Then he got out of the passenger seat and practically ran around to the driver's door. "We'll see you back home?"
"In the morning, I suspect. By the time I've sorted this mess out. Tell security not to let anyone through the gates, you know the drill."
"Yessir."
"And Junior?"
"Yes Pa?"
"For the love of God, don't prang your uncle's car."
Dom nodded somewhat nervously. "Uh yessir."
With that, the eldest Butler turned his broad back on the boy and the car, ordering the other two up against the hedge once more with a growl of annoyance about 'following orders the first time or learning the hard way'.
Dom got into the driver's seat, careful not to leave wet dirt and foliage from his boots anywhere but the floormats, which he could more easily remove and clean once they were safely back home and wincing at the large, damp patch on the passenger seat his wet clothes were about to repeat a lesser imprint of on the driver's side.
The reinforced, bullet-proof door thudded shut quietly, the same as it always did. But this time is sounded a whole lot heavier. As though it too, was laden with responsibility.
"OK Bertha," he mumbled very quietly. "None of us know who's more important to Uncle out of me, you and Artemis, so let's get home and not try to find out, eh old girl?"
"Wait!" his passenger said suddenly, jumping out of the back of the car and into the other front seat. "I don't want to be stuck in the back – I feel positively seasick after all that sliding around."
Dom gave a slow grin as the Fowl boy buckled himself into a seat he couldn't remember sitting in before today.
"Awesome though, eh?" Junior said, pulling the seat forward so that he could reach the pedals. He had been permitted to move the Bentley before, when he was being taught exactly how to clean it, but he had never been allowed out of first gear – nor to drive it without the direct supervision of his uncle, who had sat in the passenger seat with his right hand twitching for the gearstick and handbrake with the same semi-conscious movement as it did towards his gun holster when he was alert.
"I must say, I knew The Major was an excellent driver - and yourself, of course - but it didn't really occur to me that he must have learnt it from his father."
"Old Pa is full of surprises," Dom chucked "He teaches me loads of stuff you wouldn't expect."
"I can imagine," Artemis said, nodding. "Now, shall we head home? Can you remember the best way back? I certainly can't..."
"Yeah, pretty sure," said Dom, squeezing the steering wheel in his palms.
"Well, I for one am glad you're the one driving," admitted the Fowl. "And I'm glad you know the way home, too - I think my instructing days are behind me, if I'm honest."
"In that case," Junior smirked. "Can I tell you I'm quite glad to hear that?"
"Cheeky bastard!" Artemis grumbled.
"I'll be a dead bastard if I so much as scuff an alloy on Bertha."
"Bertha?"
There was a short pause.
"… Yeah, and?" the teenage Butler said, somewhat defensively.
"Oh… nothing. Is that your name for it…ah, her… or is it, ah…?"
A siren wailed somewhere in the distance, mercifully distracting the Fowl.
"We'd better go. How 'steady' is 'take her steady', Junior?"
"Not too steady," Dom said, his face breaking into a slight smile again as he buckled his seatbelt, tested the resistance of the clutch pedal and put the big car into gear. It purred and rumbled pleasantly at his coaxing, obviously quite content to serve any generation of the Butler family, it would seem. The youngest felt his pulse oddly settle, despite the situation. He was beginning to see his uncle's point when it came to the reassuring nature of a reliable vehicle. "I mean, we don't want to get pulled over for crawling down a national speed limit road... Someone might think it was a drunk driver or something."
"Well exactly," said the young Fowl, with just a hint of mischief to his tone. "We wouldn't want that."
Needless to say, the teenage Butler was incredibly careful with the car, but driving too slowly would be suspicious, after all.
OK, we're nearly at the end of Part One of Days of Reckoning!
Like I say, Part Two is in the works. It'll get there eventually. Then there will be a final part to the fic set following Dom growing up that will be called Dead Reckoning. And then who knows? Not me but I doubt I'll stop writing FanFic.
I reckon it'll be a few days until the final chapter is polished and ready to go, which will bring us up to a nice, round, 7 weeks of posting. I've really enjoyed having a project to work on and hearing all your brilliant comments on it. I hope it's brightened up your days and you've enjoyed the ride.
But, as the delay in my usual reliable, predictable every-other-day posting schedule has just shown, it is probably good timing that we've reached the end of this fic for now. Real life has come knocking again and being back to my usual routine means writing takes a back seat. Rest assured, I have many driving hours to do where I can plot away until my heart's content, it's just the actually getting it down for you all to read that's the problem haha
Give me a quick shout in a review if you want to be mentioned in the final list of thanks for the fic!
Wolfy
ooo
O
21/06/20