Reunion - Chapter Thirteen

Stephan moved to the edge of the control desk and saw the door where Ryder had entered the building. Cautiously he opened it a crack and looked out. He saw the backs of two what he took to be guards, dressed in the same dark camouflage coveralls as Ryder, disappearing at a gentle trot down the corridor the door down opened on to. He quickly shut the door before anyone else coming along noticed him. He would need the coveralls to blend in to be able to make his escape. He was considering taking the coverall off of Jon Ryder as they were of similar builds but the prospect of trying to man handle the dead weight ( literally or metaphorically he wasn’t totally sure ) didn’t appeal in the time he had available.

“Eight minutes to detonation” came the voice over the tannoy.

Stephan looked quickly round the room was there any other option ? then his eyes fell up on a grey metallic locker along the other edge of the room.

He went over to it and looked inside. It didn’t contain the camouflage coveralls he was hoping for but it did have a couple of white lab coats worn by the technicians who usually worked in the control centre no doubt. They would have to do. Stephan tried the first one on and it was way too short in the arms and tight across the chest. The second was a better fit and rolling the sleeves up a bit he put it on. It fell longer down his legs than looked totally normal but at least that hid more of his tattered, sand stained chinos. He hoped as everyone was busy evacuating they wouldn’t look to closely at him and wonder why a technician was wearing flip flops. He picked up a clipboard lying by the side of the locker and took it with him. It was a universal fact that no-one ever questioned a man in a white lab coat carrying a clipboard.

He took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped out confidently into the corridor, it stretched off for some distance is each direction before ending in a T junction at one end and a sharp left bend at the other. The guards had been heading towards the T junction so he figured that was the best way to go. The flashing emergency lights were located in the ceiling along the corridor bathing it in their eerie on/off orange glow and every 10 seconds or so the klaxon sounded its warning.

“Seven minutes to detonation. All personnel proceed to evacuation points,” crackled the tannoy speakers in the corridor.

Stephen made his way at a brisk walk down to the T junction. He looked left and right, no-one was about though he could hear movement somewhere else ahead but it was difficult to tell where it was coming from above the bursts of noise from the tannoy. Which way was the right way he pondered then he noticed on the wall in front of him a framed diagram showing a plan of the complex with a large red dot marking “You are here” and then a dashed red line leading through a couple of further T junctions and turns to an area marked as assembly point B .

The diagram was headed “In case of emergency” with an initial paragraph that started “Your nearest escape route is marked on the plan below, please take few moments to familiarise yourself with it.” Then under the plan were several paragraphs about what to do in the event of an emergency, discovering a fire etc.

Was this thing for real thought Stephan. What kind of evil maniacal genius applies health and safety rules to his lair with such assiduity ? Were there government inspectors for lairs ? What would it be OffLair, OffEvil? OffNut maybe. He wasted no longer considering the matter and having committed the route to memory he set off in the direction of assembly point B. Quite what he would do once he got amongst the rest of the “personnel” he wasn’t entirely sure but that was something to worry about once he got there.

“Six minutes to detonation.”

Stephan followed along the corridor noticing now that at each T junction there was also a standard green emergency exit sign showing the stick figure running towards the square box of the door. He followed each one. Turning the corner he saw he had caught up with two guards trotting ahead of him. He slowed his pace to stay behind them hoping they wouldn’t turn round. He was following along at a few metres distance when a voice behind him called out in a language he didn’t recognise but sounded oriental to his ears, or Asian as seemed to be the phrase these days though to Stephan and his generation Asian would always mean the Indian sub-continent like the heritage of his two dead friends Mougal and Esacam. He tried to ignore the voice but the guards had heard it, stopped and turned round.

The two guards were of Far eastern appearance. Stephan stopped a bare metre in front of them. They looked him up and down and realised something was wrong, not least the fact this tousled hair, lab technician in flip-flops was a Westerner. Wasting no time Stephan barged passed them and ran full speed down the corridor and round the bend at the bottom. A shot rang out over his head and ricocheted of the light fitting causing it to swing violently. He heard one of the guards talking quickly and the softer crackle of a walkie-talkie as he dashed along.

Clearly the guards were alerting their superiors to the presence of an intruder on the run.

“Five minutes to detonation. All personnel proceed to evacuation points”

He wasn’t far away from the assembly point now, he was breathing hard and his shoulder had started to throb more exacerbated by the exertion. He reached over his shoulder with his good arm and felt under the lab coat, it found a warm wet patch. He was bleeding, the bullet had done more damage to him more than he thought. Well there was currently plenty of adrenalin flowing through his system to counter that for now.

He turned one more corner hearing the shouts of guards behind him and the clatter of their heavy soled boots on the metal grids that formed the floors in this part of the complex. He looked down and saw there grids formed a suspended floor over a what appeared to be a shallow channel part filled with water. He guessed that water seepage was an occupational hazard of having an lair based in a cave complex. He reached down and quickly lifted up a grid. Slid himself under it and replaced it on top of him. The water in the channel was ice cold and smelt stagnant.

After only a second or two a group of four guards came clattering down over his position and stopped at the next T junction a few metres further along. They looked left and right and then after one spoke quickly into his walkie-talkie they split into two pairs and went off to cover both possible directions the fugitive could have taken. Stephan waited a few more seconds to see if any more guards were going to appear, then he pushed the grid up in front of his and slid it over so he could get out of his watery hiding place. His lab coat was sodden with the cold, smelly trench water but at least the icy dip had momentarily eased the pain in his shoulder. He replaced the grid to avoid drawing attention to his hiding place and continued along the corridor following the route to assembly point B.

He still didn’t know how he was going to get out of the complex now the guards were alert to his presence and it appeared, aside from Ryder, he was to be the only European in the complex. Made sense, he supposed, given the part of the world he was in but it posed a problem and rendered any chance of passing himself off as one of the regular personnel to almost zero.

“Four minutes to detonation.”

*

Stephan knew round the next corner was his escape point. He could see the clear more mellow light of day pooling on the floor ahead of him edging out against the harsher white light of the fluorescent tubes overhead. Unfortunately his escape point was also apparently the assembly point for the guards and other personnel of the maniacal genius who had tried to kill him. He suspect he wouldn’t be able to just stroll on out and say. “Hi Chaps, slight change of plan. Your leader’s staying behind and he said it was ok to let me go.”

He edged closer to the corner of the final turn and risked a quick sneak look round. As he expected there was a hive of activity as more than a dozen guards and other personnel were packing up equipment into a line of jeeps waiting on a flattened asphalt parking area. Behind the jeeps was a steep track leading from the mountain they were on and which formed the head of the cave complex.

“Three minutes to detonation”

The tannoy echoed against itself as he heard both internal and external speakers relaying the message.

A sense of urgency entered the movements of the people loading the jeeps and the first two tore off down the track. They clearly didn’t want to be anywhere close to the mountain when the countdown reached zero which gave some indication as to the level of destruction they were expecting.

Stephan formulated a desperate plan. It was simple and foolhardy but it was the only thing he could think of. He shucked off the cold, wet labcoat and removed his flip flops to enable him to run more easily along the asphalt. Another two jeeps left the area accelerating down the slope, their occupants holding tight in the back as they were bounced along the track. There were only two jeeps left and four guards busy with final preparations to depart. Stephan took a couple of deep breaths and focussed his mind for a moment on the task ahead. He knew the next announcement from the tannoy should be one of the longer ones announcing the need for all personnel to evacuate and he hoped as it would be the two minute warning it would be even longer. This and his barefoot approach he hoped would mean he would be able to get close enough to one of the jeeps before the guards noticed him, then he would overpower the driver and take off in the jeep. Simple. Suicidal, irrational and doomed to failure but simple.

Another jeep careered off down the mountain side and there was no only one left. Would that jeep stay long enough for him to have cover of the tannoy announcement due? If he waited until that jeep left could he get down the mountainside safely on foot? Should he stay or should he go. He started to weigh the options when his mind was made up for him.

At the first crackle of the tannoy before the ‘T’ of “Two minutes” was completed he was off and running across the tarmac towards the two final guards. One was in the driver’s seat, the other was loading one final crate into the back. Stephan pounded flat footed towards them. He was right about the longer tannoy announcement it was saying something about final warnings but all he could mostly hear was the blood singing his ears and he hurtled towards the jeep.

Still unsure quite what he was going to do when he got there he had a helping hand or rather helping foot when his he slipped on a patch of oil left by one of the departed jeeps. He was launched feet first up into the air, his momentum carrying forward in the perfect simulation of a martial arts flying dropkick. The guard at the rear of the jeep was lift one final box into the back as a pink and white blur shot past him knocking the box clear from his hand and sending him sprawling backwards. Knocking the box up into the air Stephan cleared the flat bed of the jeep and crashed feet first into the back of the driver, crushing him against the steering column and knocking his head and neck back at an alarming angle. Stephan felt a crack and deep searing, burning pain shoot up his leg as he came to a stop in the seat partly straddling the stricken driver. Ignoring the pain he pulled the driver over to the side of the jeep and with a massive push bundled him out of the jeep. He he pressed the pedal and the jeep lurched forward as the pain in his accelerator foot became almost unbearable. Clearly something was badly broken down there. He gritted his teeth and aimed the jeep for lip of the dirt track that led down the mountain.

At that point a crackle of automatic fire zipped over his head with one or two sharp metallic thuds sounding around him. The other guard had come to his senses and opened fire on the retreating jeep. The bullets missed and Stephan was bounced and thrown all over the front seat as he careened down the rough track. He’d done it. He’d made out of the mountain he thought, now he could make good his escape. But where and how? What was he going to do next with half a dozen jeeps and heavily armed guards only a few moments ahead of him?

*

The track veered sharply to the right and he almost missed the turn , the wheels of the jeep spinning precariously over the edge of the track before gaining purchase and shooting him forward again. The road was getting steeper and more enclosed by undergrowth and trees as he got further down the mountain and below the natural tree line. He took the next turn on two wheels and almost crashed into the back of the last jeep to leave which, though moving quickly was taking a more cautious approach to getting off the mountain.

Stephan slammed on the brake and screamed in pain. It felt as though the whole bottom of his leg had just snapped off. The guards in the back of the jeep looked round in amazement at the noise and the site of this crazy haired , torn shirted stranger skidding towards them. Before they could react Stephan gritted his teeth, braced himself for the pain and stepped back on the accelerator as he steered round the jeep, two wheels spinning in thin air momentarily before finding traction in the undergrowth to the side of the track. The jeep slewed round violently first one way then the next as he fought to gain control. He had overtaken the jeep in front and was now back in the middle of the main track still hurtling down the mountain. It was then he felt the first low rumble shake the ground underneath him.

The detonation of the mountain had begun. It was like a distant rumble of thunder as though from a far away storm but he felt it though the base of the jeep rather than around him. The noise grew and rumbled on and on accompanied by several soft “crump” noises and then there was a shattering boom and pieces of debris rained down on the bonnet of the jeep and around him, he felt several sharp stings on his back and arms as pieces of the mountain, foliage and palm tree struck him.

That was enough to distract him from seeing another sharp turn in the track and he missed it completely, crashing off through the undergrowth, the jeep bouncing around on each corner of its, chassis throwing him about like a rag doll until the front right corner struck a palm tree that was too big to give way and the jeep was slewed to one side throwing Stephan completely out of the stricken vehicle. He clattered and skidded along the forest floor, his hands and face scratched and torn by sharp edged succulent plants and ferns. He came to a stop several metres from where he had left the jeep. Every part of his body was raw and giving off searing pains, vying for his attention. His lungs burned like he had inhaled neat petrol. He was facing up the mountain and could see even with his blurred, blood stained vision the top part of it was now completely missing and a huge black mushroom cloud of smoke was billowing hundreds of feet into the air.

He heard the roar of a jeep engine going down the track, the jeep he had overtaken clearly wasn’t interested in finding him now or perhaps the occupants had seem him crash off the road and decided it was unlikely anyone could survive such an impact. Stephan lay their, panting and wincing for several long minutes. Though broken and battered his body didn’t seem to be losing huge amounts of blood save for a showy cut above one eyebrow that persistently tricked down into his eyes blurring his vision.

*

Stephan lay back, exhausted and in pain. At some point he either fell asleep or passed out completely. As he came to he could voices. His body tensed causing him to wince with pain. Had the guards started a search for him?

Were they already traipsing through the undergrowth with bayonets attached, sticking their rifles into any likely hiding place? He realised that was an unlikely image but they might indeed be looking for him. He sat up slightly on one elbow and listened again. The voices were quite distant, just snatches on the air really. Then he realised they were speaking English, the good old estuary English of the modern day “yoof”, “init.” It wasn’t the guards, even if they did speak English why would they speak it to each other and why would it sound like the Staines Massive?

He sat up more fully, his head throbbed with pain from his shoulder to his ankle. He felt pain throughout his body but even through this miasma of agony he realised these voices were his salvation. Somehow someone was on the island and chances were they weren’t maniacal geniuses intent on killing him. He had to get to them before they decided to leave. He dragged himself upright, grunting with pain, a sweat breaking out on his forehead as he tried to bear any sort of weight on his ankle. It wouldn’t allow to take a single step. He could still hear the voices now and again on the wind.
Stephan started to crawl on his hands and knees and then when even that was too painful on his stomach along the forest floor towards the sounds of the voices.

He made slow progress and was hampered in several places by the undergrowth being too thick, the slope to steep for a direct route or some obstacle in his way like a fallen tree trunk. He detoured round these obstructions but always tried to make sure he could return to what he thought was the most direct route towards the voices. At one moment the voices had fallen silent and he thought they had left the island. He wept tears of frustration and desperation when he heard the voices again, even closer this time. He quickened his pace as best he could.

At one point at the top of a gentle slope he came out into a slight clearing that afforded him a view through the tree canopy above. He was looking out over the bay and there, anchored out to sea outside the reef that surrounded that part of the island he saw the triple masted sailing ship they had seen on the distant horizon when the Speke twins had met their end trying to signal it. It was real, he hadn’t imagined the voices, they must have sent some people ashore.

He crawled down the slope, a particularly difficult manoeuvre as it made his shattered foot and ankle loll forward increasing the pain he felt from it. He reached the bottom of the slope and ahead of this he could see the white sand of the beach just glimpsed through the leaves, and grasses of the forest floor. He saw something move across his field of vision. He crawled on and tried to shout but his voice came out as a hoarse whisper. He tried again,

“Help! Help! Hello! Help me! Help” he shouted this time with more volume as he crawled towards the beach. The last patch of undergrowth between him and the beach seemed thicker and more impenetrable than all the rest he had crawled through but he kept going, shouting as he went. The plant life made its last ditch attempts to keep hold of him, snagging on the remnants of his clothes, scratching and clawing at his exposed flesh. At one point a palm frond or ferm leaf twitched back catching him above the eye and reopened the cut on the eyebrow causing it to stared bleeding freely again. At last he was free of the forest and dropped on the hot white sands of the foreshore.

Through his blurred vision he made out a smaller boat moored just off shore and a group of people lining up to get on board. He called out again, stopping to cup his hands over his mouth to amplify and direct the sounds. Someone seemed to look up in his direction but he couldn’t really tell, he started to crawl towards them, dragging his bruised, battered and shattered body along.

First one, then two figures from the group were moving in his direction, he’d got their attention. He felt dizzy from the exertion, sweat and blood obscured his vision. He collapsed momentarily on the beach unable to go on any further, then he sensed a shadow cast over him blocking out the bright midday sun. He lifted his chin slightly and tried to focus, squinting hard. He made out a pair of black converse ankle high boots and as he followed the legs in them up and up he looked into the face of a boy of about 14 looking down at him.

“Mr Wilkinson! Mr Wilkinson! Somebody fetch Mr Wilkinson” shouted the boy crouching down beside Stephan.

“It’s ok mate Mr Wilkinson will know what to do. He’ll sort you out.”
Stephan let his head drop into the sand and he wept, but this time tears of relief and joy. His ordeal was over.