So. I don't know when and if I will update. Exactly as I have known, school is now getting... difficult. (Most hopefully) I have my timetable full until the middle of May, having different objects to work on besides writing fanfiction for lazy readers who don't even think about reviewing (OK, to be correct, 0,53% of my readers did review).
This doesn't mean I will not update until then just that things will slow down (as you may have noticed). Also, my wonderful beta is working on getting something sane out of my "plot-jumps" and inconsequences.
Warning: still SASCH
Chapter 9 - Only a shiver down the spine
He should have suspected it. Sense the danger from the air. The way the wind turned, the inaudible crack as their feet connected the ground, bringing the killers closer and closer to him. Yet before the critical time, when the world stopped for a moment, everything frozen, as Death lingered there, caressing his face with its skeleton fingers.
But he hadn't sensed it.
The meeting had been difficult. Not only the way the facts sounded and line followed line, from outside, neglecting all the emotions, reducing one of the best periods of his life to a collection of bare, official, cold words, pretending nothing had happened in those months, nothing valuable to note besides the facts, the facts stood accurately one by one, yielding the same assumptions he had done long ago, mocking with him, saying his decision – the decision he had made with sweat, signing it with the blood of his heart – was nothing but necessary. And that look in Mrs. Jones' eyes, telling him he was lucky that the bank had agreed his decision and let him work with his wife – which was completely out of all the rules a secret agency could have, going against all kind of common sense.
No, this was only one thing.
Alex hated every time when he had to recall the events that happened and the newest various methods the newest various enemies wished to adopt for his slaughter. He was sick of all that. To sit in a chair, calmly, and speak about how he had been nearly murdered, how the world had been nearly destroyed.
It was a necessary part.
But he hated that part.
Especially, since he had been having Rose. The woman – girl – understood him, more than anybody else on earth was able to.
When he said her that he had been shot at, she knew it. She didn't start to fume about how unjustified this was, nor did she say some blank, empty words about how sorry she was, or just pretend, believe that she understood it. Nobody could understand this until it was their own skin.
And Rose knew. When he said it to her, he didn't need explanations. She knew the way your heart slowed down in that second of realization, then jumped and started thudding in your ears until it may have been silenced by an inhuman power forever. She knew how the icy sweat ran down your spine, your limbs all useless and uncertain, until the adrenaline found them. She knew the black and red circles changing in your vision, the bitterness in your mouth, the taste of your own blood, rust and death, the sudden urge to run and flee.
And since he had been having her and the chance to speak to somebody who understood him completely, whom he was able to tell and explain, getting free of all the weights on his soul, he hadn't needed anybody else.
Before he had found her, it helped a bit. Telling it a bank manager, usually somebody grey from the Royal and General's world. It had eased on the tenseness of his mind a little.
But now, it simply annoyed and exhausted him.
And he left the building with his mind wandering, ignoring the world outside for a moment.
And, of course, danger always found the gaps, the momentary lack of concentration to attack.
The SAS soldiers around him avoided him and if they did have to pass by him, they looked away. It was just common sense and instinct: they felt they might confront him and hurried to pretend they didn't see him at all, not to say Rose's presence. Their ignorance was returned by the spies.
And so, when they reached the narrow way through between the officers' barrack and the military hospital, nobody saw when the couple was silenced.
It was pure bad luck. There shouldn't have been such gap; at SAS dark deep places, narrow ways were not preferred.
However, the base was almost a hundred years old. There had been standing a military hospital on the hill which had a view at the valley. The other barracks and buildings had been built inside the late river-bend when the SAS moved in and occupied the area and the surrounding forests, but the centre, the brain of the base, the officers' barrack, needed to be built upon the hill, with the most perfect view upon the other institutions, while the hospital was renovated and re-occupied as well.
Twenty years later, an engineer came, with the task of planning a new wing to the hospital where the soldiers could be taught about a new threat: the various collection of poisons. Another five years later, the new safety precautions required an outside corridor at the sides of the offices. And, as the river-bend was too unsteady to be the ground of the expansions, the two buildings rather cramped on the top of the hill, only letting a narrow, dark pace. It was used rarely, the soldiers chose the other, longer way.
But the spies didn't.
She wanted to scream when a violent palm was pressed on her mouth and nose, but the man behind her was stronger. The attacker had the advantage of surprise and strength and with a bit of luck these were enough to silence her successfully. It was a classical bear-hug, then the man let his hand fall soon when she managed to regain her control after the first moment of panic. She gasped for air loudly, but before a screech could build up in her throat, the hand returned, forcing an uncomfortable pose on her, her legs kicked out under her, her back falling hard against the killer's chest, the pressure becoming firm on her throat.
It was frightening, but she tried to rule the panic. Adrenaline rushed in her veins, her pulse beating hard in her ears. She was fighting for her life, she understood suddenly. She forced back the coming panic and the urge to loose her control and react fully on instinct.
She apparently lost the moment when the man threw themselves onto the ground, but now his weight concentrated on her torso and legs with a deathful pressure, her helplessly opened mouth full with soil. It was crazy how many details stuck in her memory: she felt the wetness, the taste in her mouth turning sour, her blood, as she bit her tongue. The world was starting to fade away in a show of flashing circles and dots like bad tries to confuse the visitor on the ghost train. Only this wasn't to entertain her.
She desperately tried to get free from her embracer, but the man's dead weight pushed her deep into the Welsh mud. She used all her strength and after some desperate tries she managed to turn back a bit from the ground towards the man. Her knee hit hard his groins despite the small place to take a momentum. He moaned and half-loudly yelled, but didn't let her go.
Oxygen was the nicest word for her for now, but the pressure eased only a little on her throat. She collected strength for another kneeing, her hands still held down by the soon-to-be-killer.
It was so surprising she didn't believe she was free at first. She already placed a hit into his stomach when she realized she could breathe again. The air whirled panting in her lungs; she had to lean against the wall feeling she would faint. Nausea came and she had to press her own hand on her mouth to stop herself.
She forced herself to look around as an ominous feeling found her: where was Alex? Her thoughts were beginning to clear down a bit like the troubled mud in a lake. Her lover was still fighting, three attackers hanging on him. He was in no better condition than she had been seconds ago. The men must have considered the woman weaker than the man – and Rose was terrified how close and right they had been.
She stepped across the newly waking body, making sure her heavy military boots touched the wished point of his body. She could see her husband's current situation was everything but not satisfying and she quickly used her own bit of surprise knocking one of the men out from the back.
One other immediately flung himself on her, but this time she was prepared enough and waited for the attack. A minute later, when Alex started to regain his control upon the events, she switched from defensive to a bit of offence while her mate occupied the other man. One other decided to return into the game getting bored of playing the Sleeping Beauty all the time. Rose's first man, the embracer was also conscious, now exchanging the woman's body for his own, embracing himself with an expression which could satisfyingly represent the size of his sufferies.
"Back towards the square!" Alex's voice was just as hoarse she felt her own, so she only nodded at his yell. The square with many soldiers and enough free space to maneuver around.
To the time they managed to reach their target, she knew she would not like dark alleys for a very long time. It felt like being born again as they left the blackness, the air thick and wet from their wheezing breaths.
And, finally, they got out.
The helping force a.k.a. the soldiers weren't much of a help though. We would lie saying they helped anything, although not denying that if the attackers would have glanced at them, they would have surely been surprised and maybe impressed at the never-imagined sizes of human eyes and mouths. We don't deny the psychological force of this at all, but we must admit that the super-weapon didn't help our heroes a lot to eliminate the enemy. However, we must remark, that the attackers didn't ever glance at them, so the psychological effect stayed in shadows in the future too, needing further tests.
The teenage spies needed to do all on their own. The previously knocked out man was in a very good condition for now and apparently ready to take revenge for the momentary trip in unconsciousness. The two still were with their backs towards the narrow walk through. One of the black-dressed men conjured up a handgun, obviously getting bored of the hand fight. The first bullet went deep into the egg-shell-coloured hospital wall decorating it in a very military-designed way.
The man didn't have any more time to continue improving the unsophisticated pale colouring, Alex jumped at him, the barrel forced towards the cloud-covered sky. While they got their relationship deepen by pushing their bodies against each other, Rose had to found herself facing two grim-faced attackers. What a luck she was trained to survive.
She kept up the defence until Alex would decide he knew thoroughly enough the other man. She could see this wasn't going to happen in the near future so sighed and aimed some kicks and hits at some more sensitive points of her own opponents. Both men were leaning down as if bowing in front of her fighting experience and skills, their hands grabbing their painfully throbbing crown jewels when the coldness touched the back of her neck.
The woman froze in one place, her heart accelerating from the already quick path. She felt each thud hitting painfully her ribs as if wanting to get free from a cage. Alex got free from his new friend and turned back towards her, but it was too late. The man standing behind her waved him and pulled her closer to his body, pushing his arm at her throat again.
He must have been the leader finding he was strong enough to take down a woman while his men were bothering with the stronger target. His breaths breezed the hairs on her neck as she felt every air-take of the attacker. A cold shiver ran down her spine, the icy droplets of sweat burning its way through her skin.
To be continued…
PS: Merry Christmas for those who like it
PPS: Sorry for the chapter title, I will think of a better later...