Whole Diggers (aka Bike) Part 617 by Angharad

My head was swimming, I had probably just killed someone, but I couldn’t bear to look who. I vomited again, dry retching on my empty stomach. I searched for another gun but couldn’t find one. There were still two others out there, despite my self-disgust at all this–I hated guns and violence–there were two if not three other lives depending upon me.

I ran upstairs, and began tapping on Tom’s door, he eventually opened it and gasped at me, “Ye look absolutely ghastly, whit’s happened?”

“I just killed one if not two of our guards.”

“Whit? Why?”

“We’re prisoners, they’re going to kill us anyway.”

“How d’ye ken that?”

“I heard them talking outside. Come on get dressed, I need your help. Have you ever fired one of these?” I handed him the gun.

“Not exactly, but I’ve fired guns in my National Service days, and shotguns since.”

“Well, don’t hesitate, if you see one of them shoot to kill.”

“Aye, I’m no too sure about that wee bitty.”

“They’ll be trying to kill you.”

“Cathy, this is tak’n an awfy lot on trust.”

“Please, Daddy, if I’m wrong, I’ll accept all the law can throw at me including anything you do as well. These men killed the police guards who should have looked after us, they’re fakes. C’mon, get dressed before they find their colleagues.”

Tom pulled on his trousers and jumper over the underpants and tee shirt in which he’d slept. It reminded me we needed to get him some new underpants. He pulled on his socks and shoes and we went to get the girls.

Things were happening downstairs, shit! We ran into the girls room and I woke them up and grabbing their clothes and the girls explained the men here were very bad and they were trying to hurt us. I made them get behind the shutters and stay there until I came to get them. They were on no account to come out to anyone they didn’t know. I gave them a pack of biscuits and a bottle of water I had with me, and a plastic bowl I found in the bathroom to use as a loo. I kissed them, told them I loved them and pushed them behind the shutters. I hoped it would offer some protection if bullets started zipping about the place.

I grabbed the bow and my quiver, pulling on my wrist and finger guards as I crept to the top of the stairs. I tucked the knife in the back of my jeans and pulled my top over it.

They’d obviously found the bodies and were shouting to each other. “I’m gonna kill ‘em, bastards.” I heard someone storming towards the stairs. Tom was in the bedroom with the girls, I heard him move away from the door. I crept back along the landing drawing an arrow as I went. The bedroom door shut, and I knew Tom was protecting the girls. I heard a bed being moved against it. Then footsteps on the stairs, which creaked under the weight.

I flattened myself against the wall kneeling on one knee to minimise the target I offered. More noises from the bedroom of furniture moving. I heard the click of a safety catch being switched off. More slow creaks from the stairs, my heart was pounding and my body wanted to shake. My mouth went dry and breathing became ragged.

A figure darted up the stairs and began to spray bullets at the door of my room. I was horrified then he turned and saw me just as I loosed an arrow. I hit him in the chest knocking him backwards against the door his gun still firing fell down the stairs and I fired a second arrow hitting him in the abdomen. He started screaming and flailing about, stood up and fell down the stairs.

The remaining gunman called upstairs saying we were all dead, if necessary he’d burn us out. I stayed still and quiet. A volley of bullets came up the stairs but he wasn’t going to follow them. Damn!

I crept along the landing and tapped on the kid’s door and then went to see Tom: a bullet had nicked his shoulder, so I dressed it for him with a torn piece of bedding. It was a superficial wound, he was very lucky. The girls came out had a wee and went back to their makeshift shelter.

We had to get out of there before their boss arrived or we just started the business all over again with the odds even more in their favour. I took the sheet rope and went into Tom’s room. I grabbed his whisky and shoved a piece of cloth in the top of it, then shook it. The cheap lighter I’d seen in the cupboard, and which I’d ‘borrowed’ gave me an idea.

Tom’s shutters opened with a few levers from my knife, so the locks weren’t that effective. I broke a pain with the handle of my knife using a pillow to deaden some of the noise. I tied the rope to the bed and after looking as carefully as I could, began to ease my way down, abseiling down the house.

I took the bow from my shoulder and the whisky bottle from my trousers–my jeans stank like a distillery. I tried to work out which of the cars had the better chance to escape, I opted for the Merc. As I crept around the house, arrow poised on the bowstring, he spotted me, and I ducked behind the house as he fired.

“Too late, Robin Hood, or is that Maid Marion? The cowboys are here.” He fired again and I ran behind a low wall, lighting the rag in the bottle as soon as I got there. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he taunted and fired again. I heard his footsteps come closer and lobbed the bottle.

I heard the bottle smash and the whoomph as the inflammable contents exploded. He shouted in pain and I popped up and loosed an arrow. It hit him somewhere–I heard the thud–the gun fired again and this time he was screaming. I fired another arrow at the human torch that was staggering around firing his gun into the ground. The third arrow took him down, and the shooting stopped. The smell was sickening.

I ran to the cars, amazingly, the keys were in them. I suppose no one here would steal them, wherever here was? We had no time to lose. I ran back into the house and gathered Tom and the girls, my handbag and Tom grabbed his wallet. Everything else we left, even my precious tool kit.

Then into the car, which had a half tank of diesel, and away. I drove fast but carefully. I still had no idea where we were, and turned right at the gateway from the drive. Moments later, in the rear view mirror, I saw a couple of 4x4s turn into the drive. I gave the accelerator loads of wellie and the car flew forward.

“See if there’s a radio, Daddy.” I said as I gunned the car along the narrow country lane.

“There was, they’ve removed it along with the sat nav.”

“Look in my bag girls, give Gramps my phone.”

He took it, “The battery’s okay, but there’s no signal here.”

“Bugger, where do you think we are?”

“Judging by the countryside, somewhere in Scotland.”

“It’s a big country, Daddy.”

“Well, the rate ye’re going we’ll be in the Hie’lands in nae time at a’.”

“How do you know?”

“Ye’re headin’north, lassie, the sun’s ahent us tae the east and south.”

“Where’s Stanebury?”