Going west through the Arches, V headed for St. James Park to retrieve his disguise. He eased passed a careless SSU guard who was far more interested in something that lay beyond on the other side of Parliament Street to notice his presence in the proximity.
I had rather have a fool make me merry, than experience make me sad. V considered the reference, and hid along the passageway while the mask leered in ridicule. He contemplated the steps and the route he would use to the other target, while foraging along a scarlet oak tree for his new guise. Without delay, he exchanged mask for beard, then gloves, cape, hair, and hat, and finished off the heavy dark coat over his tunic…
William Rookwood straightened his clothing and adjusted his lapels. With a firm shrug on the cuff of each sleeve, he grabbed the cane that leaned against a tree. Spectacles. He needed spectacles. Reaching into his breast pocket, V stopped to put them on.
He practiced a limp to his step while walking past 202 Innocents. Its giant marble globe with engraved doves a remembrance of the people killed in an act of terrorism. V stopped for a moment. To look at it made him feel indignant at the needless loss of life. Oh, the paradox of this terrorist turned martyr.
He rounded the corner and saw the lights of Westminster Bridge in the distance. His performance would begin from this point on.
Just an old man enjoying an evening stroll.
V got closer, moving slower than he would prefer, towards an SSU officer who was guarding the bridge opening.
"Evening." V said, as he nodded his head and lifted his cane to display the gesture of a proper English gentleman.
The officer stayed at attention, ignored him, and stared into space.
Drone.
On the bridge, V listened to the waters edge crash against the seven suspension arches that made it famous. They seemed insignificant to this new occupation. The SSU lacked the fundamental understanding of historic culture and refinement. Their regard of such things abandoned them long ago, with their morals and respect for humanity. Or maybe V liked to think that way. That they were all bad, all wrong. Either way, they wouldn't live through the night, and justifiably so.
In the middle of the bridge, at the peak of the bend, V stopped. He wished he could stare out at the water longer, and feel the tranquility and harmony possessed by former onlookers, but the Thames behaved as if it had experienced agitation by something that didn't belong. His gaze rested upon St. Thomas' Hospital teaming with activity. He heard their voices and wanted to run to them. The surge of adrenalin flowed through his veins and became just short of intolerable, but he stayed calm. Feeble. Rookwood.
As he approached the hospital garden, he could see lights reflecting up from the fountain and hear the droplet sprays that hit the water in the circular pool. There were SSU officers, and civilians entering and leaving the building. Guards were positioned at every entrance, but V didn't need to go in.
He passed around the courtyard edge of the hospital buildings and stayed close to the road, should he need to make an escape. The plan? Drop the devices through a small tear in his trouser pocket, and then out on to the hospital lawn to await his final command.
Each stride took on new meaning. The limp. The drop. One at this building. Two at the next. Until he circled around the whole perimeter of the hospital, and found his way back to the garden.
Some guards noticed him. He knew they had to eventually. Two approaching officers dressed in camouflage stopped ahead to wait. V leaned on his cane taking his time, resembling an old man having difficulty walking.
"Halt." One of them said, holding out his hand. "Identification, and what are you doing walking the street at night, sir?"
"Oh, right." Rookwood replied, his hands were shaking and fumbling into the pockets of his trench coat, "Ah here it is. Here it is." He presented his fake I.D. to the officer who held out his hand to examine it. They both read it.
"Rookwood." They acknowledged the name to each other. "What are you doing out tonight Mr. Rookwood? And why haven't you received your new identity device?"
"Oh, my apologies, but my doctor says to walk the rheumatoid arthritis every night," V hit his leg with the cane. "Oh, and if I am not mistaken, I am scheduled for the procedure the day after tomorrow."
The two guards eyed each other.
"The letter R is in two days, I believe."
"He's right." The officer on the left, said.
"Right." The other said addressing V. "You'll need to be getting home sir. Curfew will be in effect soon," he said, and returned the identification to V.
"Er…thank you, gentlemen. Cheerio then." He continued limping, and left the guards behind.
V saw movement in the corner of his eye. Inconspicuously, he studied two other men. One was dismounting a horse, and the other wore a hood that concealed his face. He kept focus on them and confirmed the identity of the general. The man with the hood could be the lieutenant, but V was uncertain.
He tilted his head up, eyeing the hospital, and then watched the general enter the building; he tipped his hat with his cane.
A salute and a farewell.
To the west side of Westminster Bridge, V had only one more task to make the night complete. Move his silent little army into position. Rookwood needed to change back to V first. The representation, the idea, and his vendetta, was incomplete without the grin. The mask was a celebration of the personage he exhibited... yes…a necessary and vital element to his conclusion.
After he changed, V felt pleased to be himself once more.
A switch on the remote and the tires inflated on each tiny creation he summoned, so they could move over the grassy terrain, due west, south, east, and north. He performed this just outside of St. James Park, and remained carefully hidden. The signal was more than long enough for the function.
V put the remote in his pocket and wandered to the waters edge, where he allowed the darkness to engulf him. Staring out to the target and the city line across the water, V tried to remember ever seeing this view in the daylight. He longed for a memory, sometimes speculating and imagining what his life was like before. No matter. Tomorrow would be different, unlike anything he had ever experienced. Yet, still the want confounded him and kept him in silent regard as if he could still sense emotionally of what he had no recollection. He was sure he must have loved once. He still felt it. Perhaps he would never know, and the former days now bereft of a familiar voice, would haunt him forever.
A gull shrieked, and took off in flight from the wrought iron bridge. It sailed into the dark sky to escape some new rain. V watched, amazed at the wingspan. His eyes followed the bird's path over his head. V's gaze settled on the length of the road behind him.Yellow siren lights rotated without sound. Circulating to inform citizens of curfew.
Curfew.
V bound into the array of flashing lights that encompassed Victoria Street, having one thought in his mind. Evey.
Evey!
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
It was not long before Evey felt the effect of what she saw in the dark. Her eyes squinted to keep her focal point. The orange flickering. But the sting caused her eyes to tear.
The smell got stronger too. It went from a slight decay smell, to a caustic sulfuric odor, and then burned her nose. Whatever this was, she was getting closer to it.
The twinkling, then the nausea, and then the burning followed. Every step, every mouthful of air ripped into her lungs like tiny shards of glass. She covered her nose and mouth, and the coughing slowed her down.
This is smoke! What the hell?
Down!
Evey dropped to the ground remembering the fire drills from her childhood. The air was better on the ground. Still, it hurt to breathe as she crawled toward the orange. It had to be the way out. She couldn't go back. They were back there. Her heart pounded in her chest with a new distress. If this was fire, she needed to get out of here quickly, or die.
She stopped. Coughing spasms and choking, made her wretch on the ground. She was taking in air, but it was too much. The thickness enveloped her. Hurry-move! She crawled faster feeling heat as the ground escalated.
Almost there, almost on top of the orange cinders. Evey started to climb. There was debris, large rocks, and cement blocks and they were warm to the touch, then hot. Hot. Some of them looked like coalsand she tried to avoid them while ascending upward. A wall. Her palms touched it, then dug and scratched it with her nails. She moved smoldering pieces of rock or brick. Wheezing she needed air-
God.
You're gonna die here.
Can't breathe.
My chest hurts so bad. She coughed uncontrollably; phlegm spewed out of her nose and mouth in an effort to rid itself of the carbon monoxide poisoning her body. She couldn't fight it anymore and caved into the relentless smoke and rank that covered her. She collapsed atop of the warm mound. She was losing consciousness from the lack of air. Hurts to breathe. Her arm reached out for the wall with her palm faced upward.
Her chest heaved a few times and stopped.
Yes, I will die here. There was a level ofacceptance as she embraced death, a last breath a moment away. She spiraled into a blackness of her own. And then…
Silence.
Drop.
Her hand moved and twitched.
Drop.
Evey closed her outstretched hand touching the moisture in it. More drops covered her hand waking her. Droplets sizzled when they hit the orange amber making it smoke. More and more drops made her hand wet. She felt it. Her wet hand stroked her face. She could smell the ozone the air the freshness in it.
Rain.
Rain!
It enlivened her. Evey choked and scrambled. A way out. She finally found a way out. She got over on her knees, and held her breath, burrowing through where her hand had been, clambering with a new urgency. The cold air. She made a hole and put her face in it, breathing in the sharp air, and sucked in.
Dig! Go through it. Evey dug her hands in with every ounce of strength she could muster and forced her body through.
The sudden oxygen hit her lungs and doubled her over gasping and crying. Out into the light, the wet ground, and mud, she splashed into the puddle that now surrounded her. With her face toward the sky and her eyes closed, she welcomed the cold breeze. The rain bathed her face and her soot covered body. Evey knelt with her arms stretched out in recognition of her deliverer.
Rain. God is in the rain!
The sound of her cries danced through the remains of Parliament behind her. A snap of lightning fissured the sky.