The Gastropoda Imperative - Peter Barns (i like reading books .TXT) 📗

wet and when he held it to his ear, he could hear no tone.

“Anybody got a mobile that works?” Conal asked. Troy and Lyra pulled theirs out, looking at the screens and shaking their heads. Piers didn’t have one. “We’ll have to get your mother out to the car, Lyra,” Conal said.

Surrounding Macey, they set off along the garden path, Troy leading the way. They’d got halfway to the front gate when a man stepped out of the shadows, pointing a gun at Conal’s head in a two handed grip.

“Hello Mr Mitchell,” he said, “So nice to meet you at last.”

Chapter 45

Payne heard footsteps approaching and knelt in the shrubbery flanking the garden path. Having recognised his target from the photo King had supplied, Payne decided to wait for them to come out of the house again. He’d have to kill them all of course, but Mitchell was the real problem. He was ex-Special Forces and would need to be taken out first.

As Payne waited, he smiled to himself, his thoughts going back to the pig. Hearing the screaming pig had unsettled him, and anyway, he didn’t know how near the neighbours might be. The last thing he wanted right now was someone turning up to find out what all the bloody noise was about.

After throwing a warning at the two women, he eased his way out of the front door, waiting a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Running on his toes, he made his way towards the shed, stopping when he saw a man struggling with a pig. The man had the animal by the back legs and was pulling it towards a van. It was obvious the pig didn’t want to go and it let out another loud squeal.

Moving around behind the man, Payne walked closer. The man was too engrossed in what he was doing to notice Payne creeping up behind him. The pig suddenly broke free and headed across the garden. Payne grabbed the man in a strangle hold, pressing his forearm into the back of his neck, locking it off by grasping his other arm. The man struggled, pulling at Payne’s forearm, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he gulped for air.

Payne kept up the pressure and the man slowly stopped struggling, collapsing down onto his knees. Payne went with him, tightening his grip, keeping the hold locked for a further three minutes. He knew it was surprisingly hard to strangle a big man to death.

Finally releasing his hold, Payne grabbed the man’s head between his hands and twisted sharply. Then dropping the man to the floor, he turned to head back to the cottage.

Something rose out of the shadows beside him - something very big. Payne pulled out his gun, turning towards the threat. He was a fast mover, but whatever had been waiting it the shadows moved faster, slamming into his side.

Payne was thrown across the grass, slipping in the mud on the top of the bank leading down to the brook. Arms cartwheeling, he couldn’t to stop himself from running backwards down the steep slope, where he smashed into a tree. The last thing he heard was his gun going off and the splash of water as he fell into the brook.

Waking sometime later, Payne recovered his gun, checked it was okay, and scrambled his way up the bank. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious for and was worried that the two women might have got free.

Passing the place where he’d killed the pig-man, Payne hesitated, surprised that the man’s body was no longer there. That shouldn’t have been possible, unless of course, he was loosing his touch and he’d only injured him.

Shaking his head, Payne moved through the undergrowth, ducking down when he heard voices approaching.

***

They stood on the path facing the man with the gun. Conal recognised a mercenary when he saw one. The man knew what he was doing, the gun in his hand was as steady as his hard stare.

“What do you want?” Conal asked quietly, his own gaze flicking here and there, searching for a way out of trouble.

“To kill you,” the man said, pulling the trigger.

Lyra screamed and Piers gave a muted shout, but the bullet hadn’t been aimed at Conal, it had been aimed over his head, at the large creature that had risen up behind him.

The bullet hit the hideous looking thing square in the middle of its body, having no effect whatsoever. Ignoring the screams all around him, Payne kept firing until the gun was empty. Then he kept pulling the trigger, rooted to the spot as the huge monster waved its body over him.

The Sycler swung its attention to Lyra, who was still screaming uncontrollably. It hesitated a moment, then lowered the upper part of its body, opening its great maw. Lyra was overwhelmed by the stench and stopped her screaming. The Syclers maw opened further and descended towards her head.

Troy rushed forward, spinning Lyra clear, but in doing so, put his own body in the path of the Sycler. Troy’s head disappeared into the Sycler’s mouth, which closed with a loud, wet chomp.

Troy’s body was flung from side to side, his feet just missing Payne’s head - who was still standing where he had been, trying to reload his empty pistol.

Lyra was screaming again, punching at the Sycler’s body.

Something caught Conal’s attention and he ran to the front door. Troy’s headless body flew through the air, landing on the cottage roof in a cascade of slates, before rolling down onto the path with a wet thwack.

Shouting at the others to get back, Conal tossed the red petrol container high into the air. It arched down towards the Sycler and at the same moment, Conal threw himself forward, shoulder rolling as he scooped up the shotgun he’d spotted in the shrubbery. Continuing the roll onto one knee, he shouldered the gun and fired.

The can exploded into chunks, spraying Payne and the Sycler with petrol. Flicking his lighter, Conal threw it at the creature and turned his back.

The crump of the petrol exploding into flames threw Conal onto his face. Turning over he watched as the Sycler and Payne seemed to do a jerking kind of death-dance around one another, the flames lighting up the front of the cottage. The Sycler’s maw opened for one last time and Conal could see Troy’s head speared on its tongue.

Closing his eyes, Conal spewed up on the path, heaving over and over again. With a long wailing cry, the Sycler collapsed on top of Payne and lay still. The smell of burnt flesh hung over them all.

Running down the path, Piers turned Conal over and slapped at his back, putting out the smouldering flames. Luckily his leather jacket had taken the worst of the explosion.

Staggering to his feet, Conal followed Piers towards the gate, trying to ignore the crackles, pops and hisses issuing from the burning bodies behind him. Putting his arm around Lyra’s shoulder, he turned her face away from the scene. She shook for a minute, then burst into tears. Piers helped Macey along as they headed for her car.

Conal drove them to the hospital, dropping them off at the door. “Piers,” he called as the man help Lyra and her mother towards the A&E entrance, “give me a half-hour start will you? I’ve got some things back in London that need taking care of.”

Piers looked back at the man who’d twice saved his life and nodded. He watched the car’s red rear lights until they had faded out of sight, then turned back towards the hospital, ushering Lyra and her mother inside.

AFTERMATH

Lyra was sitting in her bedroom, updating her Facebook, page when her mobile buzzed at her side.

“How are you doing?” a voice said when she answered it.

It had been two months since she’d heard Conal’s voice and it brought a rare smile to her lips.

“So, so,” she said. “You?”

“Pretty good. Did you see the News a couple of weeks back?”

“About Drewsbeck you mean?”

“Uh huh.”

“Yeah, it said he fell down the stairs of his mansion during the night and broke his neck.”

“That’s right,” Conal said. “Shame really, but there you go.” He paused a moment and she wondered if he’d rung off. “Just rang to give you a heads up on the latest event in the Drewsbeck empire,” he said finally.

Lyra sat back. “Which is?”

“Watch the News tonight,” he answered and rang off.

Lyra looked at her mobile to get his number but it showed as withheld.

That night Lyra watched the News, her eyebrows rising when the newscaster reported an explosion on an island off Japan. Cause unknown, it had destroyed a factory owned by the late multi-billionaire, Dermot Drewsbeck. The factory was believed to have been undertaking experiments in the production of protein for the third world food market.

Lyra snuggled back in her chair and turned the TV off, a soft smile playing across her lips, wondering if she would ever see the enigmatic Conal again.

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About the Author

Peter Barns lives in the Highlands of Scotland.

Retired, he now spends his time writing

and refurbishing houses.

Connect with him online

Website: boddaert.co.uk

Blog: boddaert.co.uk

Twitter: twitter.com/peterbarns

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Also available by the same author

The Gastropoda Imperative

Payback

7 Days In May

Fire Rock

Hobart at Home

Tears

Burnt Toast

Hole

Love Is

Cautionary Tales

Twittclass

Tales From The Cottage

Imprint

Publication Date: 03-15-2013

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