Rather like throwing a
dice, I walked out of the room, through the front door, and started to walk
down the dark, windswept, dirt track.
I stared ahead, down the hill, and saw a flickering light in the distance, by
the jetty; just as the man had said. It could
be anyone or anything, I thought, as I turned up the collar of my jacket to
shield me a little from the numbing cold, and trudged on–a feeling of awe and
trepidation my only companion. I’d taken a gamble, and could easily end up
dead.
About
halfway down the track, I heard the sound of an explosion followed by rapid
automatic gunfire coming from nearby. I stopped to listen. Vehicles were
starting up and seemed to be heading my way. It’ll be them, the government shits, I said to myself, and looked
around for a hiding place. I was a wanted man, and knew if they found me,
they’d do terrible things, and make me suffer in a ghastly way before killing
me. A friend of mine had been pulled from his house, stripped naked, strung up
on a tree by his hands, whipped, beaten with sticks until he was unconscious,
and then left until he died two days later. They’d hung a cardboard placard
around his neck. It said, ‘Take this as a warning.’ All he’d done was speak at
a rally in support of the opposition. I’d done much worse. I led a small
group of rebels, who’ve fought and killed the government oppressors. They’ll hang, draw, and quarter me alive,
I told myself.
By
the time they’d turned into the track, I’d managed to hide under a large pile
of leaves and branches–about four-foot high and six or seven feet wide–that had
been dumped by the side of the track. I’d guessed the government forces had
left it when they hacked a route through the scrub to make way for their trucks
and artillery. I’d burrowed into it, managing to disguise my route in, until I
lay on the cold, damp ground with most of the pile on top of me. I was soaked
through to the skin, but felt as safe as I could be. I heard the trucks stop
close by and the thumps of heavy boots of soldiers as they hit the ground.
‘Check
everywhere. Beat the bushes back. Don’t leave anything unturned. He must be
here, somewhere,’ a gruff male shouted.
My
heartbeat increased. I felt sick, and started to tremble. I must stay still. They’ll see the leaves and twigs move. I took
a deep breath, and forced myself to stop shaking.
‘Over
there, that pile of leaves and stuff. Pull it apart,’ the same man yelled. I
heard the sound of pounding feet, and felt rods or sticks being prodded into the pile.
One came through close to my head, and then the weight of the pile on top of me
started to lessen. They were pulling it apart.
Oh my God, I thought. This is it. Shortly I’ll be found and dragged out and set upon. I
retched, and reached for my pistol. Maybe
I can end it all before they get to me?
As
my hand touched on my gun’s handle, I heard a sharp burst of gunfire.
Rat-tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat.
I
heard anguished yells, another burst of gunfire, and then silence.
~~~
I
reached the jetty five minutes later. The man had been right. Sara was waiting
for me in a small motorboat. ‘Jump in,’ she said, ‘We’re going to an island
over there.’ She pointed with her left hand at a small landmass that protruded
out of the dark sea, about eight hundred metres away. Her right hand steered
the boat. I stood next to her, my hand around her shoulder, and watched the bow
of the boat slice through the dark waters.
After
a few minutes she turned to me and smiled. A radiant smile, one I’ll always
remember. I kissed her on the cheek. ‘Don’t say anything. It’s too difficult. I
might not be able keep control of my emotions and steer the boat properly,’ she
said, and kissed me on the lips for a couple of seconds before she turned back
to concentrate on the voyage. I think I’d seen a tear in her eye.
~~~
Sara
was my lover. We’d been a couple for three years, and had never been parted,
apart from the last few weeks. We were hopelessly in love, and had vowed to stay
together forever. She’d had to flee from her home because of her connections
with me. Her family had crossed the border and were safe. She’d refused to
leave the country and had fled to the mountains to a safe house. I’d become
desperate to find out what had happened to her. Then a man had come to my
hideout and said he’d seen her. He’d also brought information of the collapse
of the rebel organisation in most parts of the country. My small unit was the
only ante-government group left. He’d said the government troops were closing
in on us and I should flee. He could guarantee safe passage across the border.
‘What
about Sara?’ I’d asked him.
He’d
shrugged his shoulders. ‘She’s on an island nearby. I could arrange for her to
come and get you, but it’s a huge risk. If you come with me now, I’ll get you
across the border tonight, and you’ll be safe.’
I
shook my head. ‘No. I want to see Sara first. You said you could arrange it.’
The
man looked at me for a few seconds, and then took out his phone. ‘I can, but
it’s your choice. A trip with me to safety, or the risk of being caught and
killed by the murderous government agents.’
~~~
At
3:00 am in the morning, Sara and I lay naked on the floor of a small boatman’s
cottage, on the island she’d taken me to. As soon as we’d arrived, we’d lit a
wood fire and some candles, and ate the meal she’d brought. Afterwards, we’d
made love for several hours.
‘I
love you so much,’ she’d said, turning to me and touching me on the chest, ‘but
I guess we’d better go.’
Our
plan had been to take the boat we came in back to the other side of the bay.
She’d go back to her mountain safe house, and I’d head off to try and meet up
with the guys who’d rescued me. The rest we’d leave to fate. We had no idea
when we’d see each other again.
‘I
love you too,’ I’d replied as we’d dressed. ‘I don’t know how I’ll manage
without you, but we’ll meet again soon.’
We’d
climbed down the small hill to where she’d moored the boat in silence. Once
we’d boarded, we kissed and hugged each other before she started up the engine
and headed off the across the dark night waters. She cried, and we’d held hands
as she’d steered the boat.
When
we were halfway across the bay, she turned and looked at me. I saw fear in her
eyes. ‘Look,’ she said, and pointed to the spray that came from a boat speeding
it’s way towards us.
‘Go
down below,’ I said as I grabbed hold of my pistol.
‘No,
you don’t know how to steer it,’ she replied.
‘I
can manage. You take cover. I’ve a gun.’
She
stared at me. ‘No. I’ll steer the boat, you can shoot.’
I’d
seen examples of Sara’s resolution many times before. I knew she wasn’t going
to move an inch. ‘Okay, but let me stand the other side of you.’
She
remained glued to the wheel. I stood next to her, on the side of the
fast-approaching boat, and watched it. When it was no more than one hundred
metres away, it slowed, turned in a circle, and came to a standstill, parallel
to us. I gulped when I looked at it closely. It was a military patrol vessel.
Three men in uniform stood on the deck and faced us. They were armed with
sub-machine guns, pointing directly at us. We had no chance.
~~~
I
woke the next morning in a straw barn. I had no idea where I was. I turned and
saw a familiar face. It was the man who’d come to my house the day before. The
man who’d fixed up my evening with Sara. I saw his eyes were open. I tapped him
on the shoulder. ‘Where are we? Where’s Sara?’
He
stroked his beard and looked into my eyes. ‘We rescued you. We ambushed the
government thugs as they dragged you both from the boat. There was an
explosion. You passed out. We brought you hear. You’re safe now.’
‘And
Sara. Where’s she?’
The
man stared at me. He stroked his beard again, and narrowed his eyes. He reached
forward and put a hand on my shoulder. He pursed his lips.
I
felt a surge of pain throb through my body. My knees felt week. I started to
tremble. ‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’
‘I’m
sorry,’ the man said, and hugged me.
***
My latest work
Playing Harry: – the shocking murder of a man’s
brother and sister-in-law and a breathtaking conspiracy bring into doubt the
integrity of the CIA and MI6.
Assassination Continuum.
A man is shot
dead in a café in Istanbul. The bullet was meant for Harry Fingle. His enemies
are back. He confides in his old friend, Philip – a spy – who says he can
arrange police protection. But what are Philip’s true motives? Why does Harry’s
new lover ask so many questions and want to know his every movement, and why do
the attempts on his life continue?
Available
September. To read the 1st draft go to Wattpad.
The Night I Met Me – a chilling short story about the night
a man met his double.
A
knock on the door on a dark, windy night brings a stranger into to a man's
house. The man and the stranger look alike. As the evening unfolds, the
stranger reminds the man of their disturbing past.
