Hurst, Robin Crumby [funny books to read .txt] 📗

American made to stand and his chair scraped back on the slate floor. He strode over to greet Jack, brushing past Terra who stood warming her back on the stove. The door swung closed behind him, leaving Tommy out in the cool damp evening air of the approaching nightfall. Chapter Twenty-one

On the crest of a man-made bank overlooking the hospital, Zed and Riley were lying flat on their fronts on the grass. Zed scanned the outside of the buildings through some pocket-sized Zeiss binoculars. They were both watching carefully for any movement, hidden from view beside a small coniferous tree, a scattering of daffodils at its base.

They had parked the Land Rover a discrete distance away in a quiet back street and walked the remaining quarter mile. Keeping to the shadows, stealing from cover, they had raced across open ground one person at a time.

Zed passed the binoculars to Riley and whispered, “What do you think?”

Riley took them, put the strap round her neck and slowly brushed aside the daffodils with her free arm to clear her field of view. She did a slow sweep of the hospital buildings, lingering a couple of times before continuing her scan. “You already know what I think.” There was an edge to her voice. “I told you. This is a suicide mission.”

“We’re not leaving Will here,” responded Zed tersely, tired of Riley second-guessing him.

She shot him a look loaded with thinly disguised scorn. “You’re putting the entire group at risk, and for what? We don’t even know for sure he’s in there. You want to know what I’m thinking? Is this a rescue mission or some weird macho bullshit? Because that’s what it feels like. Take a look around you. Your little ‘band of brothers’ doesn’t stand a chance against these guys. They’re better armed and there’s probably a whole army of them down there. We go in, there’s a strong chance we don’t come out.”

Zed swallowed hard, trying to master his emotions. He let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. “Riley, you’re not listening to me. We’re not going in guns blazing, okay? We wait till it’s nice and dark and creep in ninja-like around the back where no one’s watching. We’ll be in and out again before anyone even realises we were there.”

Riley laughed sarcastically, but the look in her eyes was deadly serious. “Zed, it’s your call. I’m not going to argue with you in front of the others. But I’m just telling you, I don’t like this. It’s risky. And it’s not too late to change your mind and turn back. No one will think less of you. For all we know, Will could already be dead or moved someplace else. It’s a big call. What if more of us get captured, or one of those psychos decides to start shooting? What then?”

Zed looked down for a second, clenching his fist, bristling at Riley's condescension. He tore out a handful of grass and held the blades up to his nostrils, inhaling deeply. It was intoxicating, like pure bottled summer. It reminded him of happier times. Mowing the lawn on a hot mid-August day, collecting the clippings, sitting in a deckchair reading the paper, T-shirt off, enjoying the sunshine. He closed his eyes, savouring the memory. He looked down for a second, weighing Riley's words, letting the grass fall slowly from his fingers. He couldn't risk losing another team member, could he? There was no way he could guarantee their safety. He nodded, his mind made up. With a raised eyebrow he answered in barely above a whisper. “We just have to make sure we don’t get caught. When have I ever let you down?”

He winked playfully and instantly regretted it. Riley wasn’t in the mood. She muttered something under her breath and handed the binoculars back to Zed, sliding down the bank to join the others who were relaxing against a crumbling old brick wall.

Zed looked over his shoulder and watched her go before continuing his surveillance. He swept the maintenance area of the hospital once more. Industrial bins overflowed with hospital waste. A ten-feet-high fence was flecked with bits of newspaper caught in the mesh like a fishing net.

A gust of wind toyed with sheets of newspaper, dancing in the air, sending a cardboard box scraping across the tarmac. Litter carpeted the whole area. In one corner, several vehicles had been abandoned, windows smashed in. An ambulance sat with its contents disgorged around it, tyres deflated, its bay doors swinging open in the breeze. He moved twenty metres to his right so he could get a better look round the corner into the staff parking area. The chimney for the incinerator towered over the main building, a wisp of grey smoke escaping from the rim. There were about twenty vehicles, a few of them abandoned wrecks, harvested for parts or fire damaged. Parked in a line closer to the main entrance, he saw several serviceable cars, trucks and a Tesco lorry backed up for unloading. Further away, he could make out a pair of Range Rovers like the ones he had seen on the high street, parked up under an awning. His hunch had been right all along.

Zed shook his head. The fence was the problem. It protected the whole of the back of the hospital. He had to assume this whole area was regularly patrolled with a lookout on the roof. This crew was well organised and not to be underestimated. They worked with an almost military efficiency. On his own he backed himself to infiltrate the facility, but with a couple of inexperienced teenagers in tow, he was less sure. Perhaps Riley was right after all. Was he putting the whole team in danger to save one man? It was a big call.

Their best chance of entry was via a tree whose branches overhung part of the fence. If they could climb the tree and shuffle along a sturdy-looking branch then he was confident they could make it over. Their next challenge was going to be getting in unseen and finding where they were holding Will. They needed to find a door or window, somewhere quiet and unseen.

He found what he was looking for on his final sweep: a fire door behind one of the industrial waste bins. He doubted it was still alarmed. It would be protected by a simple metal rod that locked in place top and bottom. The doorway was almost completely hidden from view by the waste bin and a burned-out estate car. They could work on the lock without fear of interruption.

After one hour of observation, he was satisfied that there were no patrols. If they could get over the fence, they had a good chance of getting in without being discovered. He crept back down on his hands and knees to find the others talking quietly, hidden from sight.

They would need to sit tight for another hour waiting for dusk, though not too dark that they couldn’t see what they were doing. Torches were a bad idea as they could be seen from miles away and would attract unwanted attention.

The hospital was a prime site and could comfortably host several hundred people, a much bigger group than Hurst. Its location in the town made access to food and stores relatively simple. Zed didn’t fancy his chances in a fire fight. Stealth was their best option.

Once inside, Sean said he’d been to this hospital before so knew the approximate layout. The maintenance area was unlikely to be occupied, and from what they’d observed, the overnight patient wards on the first or second floor of the east wing were the most likely places they’d be holding Will. And if not, that was a good place to start their search.

They each checked their equipment. As well as the revolver and the shotgun, they had an eclectic assortment of weapons laid out on the grass from a machete and an ivory-handled dagger to the double-headed mace which Zed still had strapped between his shoulder blades. Riley uncocked the sawn-off shotgun she carried, peered down the barrels to make sure they were clear, loaded two shells and snapped the barrels closed with a satisfying click. In the side-pocket of her rucksack she placed a further box of shells and made sure she had a couple of spares in her hip pocket for easy access. Sean was lying on his back against the rucksack, meticulously sharpening the blade on the ceremonial sword he’d found earlier with a small metal file. He tested the edge with his finger every few minutes to check its sharpness before continuing.

Mila sat cross-legged, watching the others, her back to a tree. Her khaki shorts had ridden up, exposing a three-inch scar on her right thigh. She tied her hair back and picked a blade of grass out of her mouth, wiping it on her knee. Joe sat opposite her and took a long swig from his canteen before offering it to the others. Despite their meagre diet, Joe’s early middle-aged spread had proven hard to shift. Everyone else seemed to be losing weight but him. He was fed up of being the butt of their jokes. Lard-ass, fat-boy, tubby. He had heard them all. Tommy told him he was thick-skinned. Deep down, Joe was hurting but too proud to let them know they had landed a punch.

Joe had been watching Mila all day; he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Ever since she’d arrived at Hurst, he’d been mesmerised. She was at least fifteen years his junior, but she had so much vitality. She was athletic and slim-hipped and knew the effect she had on men. Zed hadn’t figured out whether Mila and Sean were just friends or something more. It had been bugging him for days. She caught Joe staring absent-mindedly and he looked away embarrassed.

“What you looking at, Joe? Seen anything you like?”

Joe mumbled something back, struggling to hide his blushes. Sean grinned at the pair of them and mischievously threw a small stone at Mila, hitting her on her ankle. She looked up angrily.

“Hey!”

He ignored her protest and whispered, “Don’t waste your time. She ain’t worth it.”

“Just because I don’t fancy you, Sean, don’t mean nothing. Perhaps you’re just not my type,” said Mila coquettishly.

Zed shushed them and they fell silent. “Let's cut the chat and switch on. Do you want me to run through the plan one more time?”

They all shook their heads.

“No, Zed, we get it,” sighed Riley.

“And we’ll keep going over it until it’s locked and loaded.” Zed looked around each of the group, lingering on the two teenagers, Sean and Mila. “Planning is what keeps us safe.”

Zed unfolded the piece of paper with Sean's crude sketch of the hospital and its layout. “So, let's go over this one more time. I’m on point. Riley is bringing up the rear. The rest of you stay alert and focused. Two teams sweeping the first and second floors, here, here and here,” he said, pointing to the overnight wards on the map. “Hand signals only. We can’t afford to make any noise. If we see anyone, we hide. Don’t take any chances. Okay? Now everyone get some rest. We move out in thirty minutes.”

They all nodded. Mila closed her eyes and started humming an old Aretha Franklin tune, “Respect”. She finished tying back her long dark hair in a ponytail that reached down past her shoulders and part way down her back. When she was done, she put on a grey baseball cap from her rucksack that cast a shadow over her petite nose and narrow lips. She wore no make-up and had a smear of mud or grease across her left cheek. It didn’t matter much. She still looked beautiful. Joe followed her lead and put his cap over his face, resting his eyes for a few minutes.

Zed sat back against a telegraph post and tried to relax. Inside, his heart was beating unusually fast.