Chapter 53 - Dicing with Death
Continued

Sawyer's stomach lurched in dread as soon as he made it to the lighthouse door. He licked his lips in apprehension, unsure of exactly what was to follow. A trap? An ambush? The young man's agitation didn't go unnoticed. Quatermain looked at him, grim-faced, silently asking if he was ready. He nodded with a deep breath. With a gentle push, Quatermain slowly let the large door swing open with a mewling creak. He went first, checking behind the door as Sawyer followed him in.

Looking around, Sawyer could see nothing but a dark empty room and the spiral staircase in the middle which reached all the way to the top. Quatermain closed the door behind them both, which snatched what faint light the moon had provided. As they moved into the middle, the wooden floor threatened to strain under their weight and make a noise with every step. Sawyer focused on trying to move as lightly as he could towards the staircase.

The only word Sawyer could find to describe the building itself was as a skeleton. It was bare and hollow, stripped of any impression of life. There was a stray draught of wind which seemed to whistle through the building. It sent the smell of damp rotting wood towards them. Sawyer felt his spine turn to ice as the extra chill caught him. For now, it was far too dark to see anything in detail, but it would get lighter the more they travelled upwards- if they made it that far.

Even just climbing the stairs could prove fatal: should Fantômas begin to shoot upon them, there would be no cover. Though even with strained concentration, Sawyer couldn't hear anything indicating the assassin was still actually there. But it would have been impossible for him to leave- they would have seen him, surely?

Sawyer was in new territory. This was a hunt and with the stakes so high only Quatermain could lead Sawyer with the least risk. He could vaguely make out Quatermain's outline, his more prominent shadow against the dim surroundings. The hunter was working on getting his bearings. Sawyer kept close to him, being sure to pay close attention to everything he did. He didn't want to make any mistakes. Not this time.

Sawyer wasn't sure how long they stood there, just listening as the wind tried to play with his imagination. Waiting for some kind of movement. There was nothing, but Quatermain showed no signs of moving yet. Though he began to get impatient and anxious through the tedious wait, Sawyer didn't dare move too soon. He had to take his time. That was the second lesson Quatermain had taught him. The first was to keep his eyes open. Sawyer was certain to do both this time around. His eyes were wide and he didn't settle his head in one place for long. He kept turning around, searching hard for some sign of movement.

Sawyer's head snapped directly upwards as there was a sudden groan of wood above them. It came from the stairway. Sawyer held his breath until the noise stopped. Trying to understand what was going on. Finally, Quatermain tapped his arm and tugged slightly at his sleeve: a gesture for them to make their move.

Quatermain stepped forwards, being cautious as to not make his footfalls make so much as a sound. As Quatermain climbed up the first few steps, a vague light appeared above them. Without hesitation, Sawyer raised his gun towards the light. He was surprised when a great burning rag, a blanket no doubt, was thrown down towards them.

The two gunmen quickly backed away so as to not get caught in the fire. Sawyer looked for someone to shoot but there was no sign. The heavy lumbering of feet above them was soon followed by several shots. Some were much too close for comfort. Deciding to act, Sawyer dropped his larger gun and took his smaller guns and fired as many bullets as he could up towards Fantômas. Just as he had a shot perfectly lined up, Quatermain dragged him underneath the stairs to where they were protected before he could fire. Within an instant of Sawyer moving, there came a bombardment of bullets. So much for keeping his eyes open.

Sawyer could hear Quatermain counting up the shots Fantômas fired. So far they were up to eight. That hopefully meant he only had four left before he would have to reload.
"Refill your guns. I've got an idea," Quatermain instructed.

Fumbling for the bullets, Sawyer hurried to top up his guns. "Now what?"
"When I fire the flare, you shoot at him," Quatermain said.
"Isn't that our only one?"
"There's another in the Automobile, but we need the light. Aim, Sawyer, don't shoot blind."

With his guns once more at the ready, Sawyer waited until Quatermain gave a signal. There was another nervous wait; another painful straining of the ears, desperate to hear what was happening. They waited until the fire died out somewhat. They needed the element of surprise.

"Now," Quatermain whispered, leaping out from their hiding place. The streak of red light ricocheted up the slender building, giving Sawyer his chance. He could see Fantômas's shadow as clearly as ink on paper. There he stood, unmoving, fearless, with a gun aimed at the young agent. Sawyer fired his gun first, only just hitting his target in the hand. With a shout of pain, the assassin dropped the gun and began to climb the stairs. Sawyer tried to shoot him again, but the spiral staircase protected him.
"Good," Quatermain praised quietly. Quatermain hurried up after him, taking the stairs two at a time. Sawyer kept turning on the spot trying to shoot at Fantômas. He gave up and instead shot ahead of him, stopping Fantômas in his tracks. It gave Quatermain time to catch up.

Apparently sensing he was cornered, the assassin ran down the stairs to fight Quatermain. The close proximity meant Sawyer couldn't shoot at him. The spy pocketed his guns and hurried up the stairs, scooping up his rifle as he did. He used the bannister to help hasten his climb. He had to make it to Quatermain.

Fantômas made sure to keep very close to the old hunter, making it impossible for Quatermain to fire his rifle or for him to have the time to get his revolver. Quatermain could barely see anything. He was fighting a shadow. Letting his rifle drop to the floor, he swung for Fantômas's ribs but missed. He was at a height disadvantage due to the stairs, something Fantômas used to full effect.

Without any time to brace himself, Fantômas spun around and kicked him, shoving him against the wall. Without stopping, he punched him in the stomach with his uninjured hand. Though badly winded, Quatermain fired a fist at his head. It was enough to make Fantômas stagger back. The assassin headed further up the stairway before Sawyer could get there to help.

Quatermain chased after him; his age did not slow him down, though his legs were aching with the countless stairs. He took up his hunting knife, and grabbed Fantômas by the ankle, tripping him over. Quatermain tried to get on top of him, but Fantômas was able to take out his own knife. Quatermain only just saw it in the fading red light.

The blade whipped past Quatermain's face as the assassin so aggressively tried to strike him. The light was still faint but it was enough for the hunter to fight for control of Fantômas' blade. Quatermain hit the assassin's hand off the stairs until he dropped the knife over the edge.

Fantômas at once seemed to realise he couldn't shake him off. He hit Quatermain in the neck, enough to make him move back and struggle for breath. Clambering to his feet, the assassin took hold of both sides of the railing, lifted himself up and kicked Quatermain in the chest with both feet. He was sent hurtling backwards.

"Quatermain!" Sawyer exclaimed, almost catching up to the hunter. Quatermain curled into a ball as he rolled down the stairs, trying to defend himself. Fantômas grabbed Quatermain's knife, which he dropped as he fell. He then continued to climb the stairs.

Sawyer rushed to meet Quatermain and stop him from falling any further. Even with the overwhelming darkness, Sawyer could tell he was hurt. He kept his arm drawn in close, cradling it as he tried to manage the pain.

"The bugger!" he shouted.
"Get back to the automobile. I can handle him," Sawyer said, looking at Fantômas as he climbed up to the very top of the lighthouse and up through the trapdoor.
"No, you bloody can't!"
"Wait here then, if he starts coming downstairs, then shoot. He's gonna pay for that one!"

Sawyer didn't give him the chance to argue. He went after Fantômas alone.

By the time Sawer made it to the top of the stairs Fantômas was preparing to climb down the side of the lighthouse via a rope. He was almost out of sight. The assassin had apparently collected a gun from the landing as now he aimed it at the young man. Sawyer hit the ground to avoid a bullet. He heard a smash as the shot hit the lighthouse lamp- though it didn't extinguish it.

Sawyer cursed under his breath and hurried downstairs, calling out to Quatermain not to shoot. If he tried to shoot down at Fantômas he'd likely get shot first. He didn't have anything to cut the rope and untying such a knot was pointless. He had to look after Quatermain and get out of the building. There was one door, and Fantômas knew it. They'd forced him out of his burrow at least. They could cover the others now.

Sawyer called out he was on his way and met with Quatermain, who was sitting on the step, gun in his good hand.
"Come on, time to go," Sawyer rushed, helping Quatermain to his feet.
"What's going on?"
"He's at the bottom. We need to get out before he traps us."

As they plodded down the stairs, Sawyer going first, Fantômas did not come into view. Sawyer kept his gun at the ready, fully prepared to fire, but nothing happened. Fantômas was gone and Sawyer couldn't see where. He hoped he didn't give anyone else any trouble.
"Where the hell did he go?" Sawyer exclaimed.
"I don't know, keep your eyes open."

They only just left the building when Sawyer heard Skinner call out his name. "Where's Fantômas? He's tricked-"

"Bring them down!" a voice bellowed, quickly followed by a torrent of gunfire.