Designated (Book 2): Designated Quarantined (17 page)

She let her hand glide over his cheek slowly, her fingers dancing over his skin as he felt her nails tug at the bristled briar that had begun to claim his chin and jaw.
 

'Truly had existed, that the man who owned my heart was not some phantom from a dream, but a real flesh-and-blood man.'
 

She leant her head against his chest, listening to his heart as it thumped, the echoing drum of his life's blood filling her head as she curled her fingers into his jacket. Her lip quivered as she let her mind slow to a crawl. Colinson's fingers crept through her silk-like hair, the long flowing strands gliding over his fingers as he slipped his arms around her, encircling her shoulders as he drank in her warmth.
 

'Why did you leave? You broke my heart.'
 

Colinson's heart seized in his chest as she stared into his eyes, her slim doe-like orbs boring into him as she looked on, pleading for any answer.
 

'I... had no choice. I had to keep you safe, free from whatever followed me. I cannot and will not tell you what I did and what made me leave; but I did it for you, to keep you safe and secure. I have done a lot in my life that has scarred me so deeply I will never be free of the pain.'

He pushed her gently away from him, his hands rising up to cup her cheeks as he brushed away a stray strand of hair with his thumb.
 

'Leaving you here alone was the single most difficult thing I have ever had to do, but if it meant keeping you safe, I would do it all over again—even if it meant never being able to do this even once more until the day I died.'
 

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers, the soft embracing kiss lingering on their lips as he pulled her tightly to his chest.

****
 

The outdoor restaurant bubbled with conversation. The sizzle of oil, the scent of burning fat and roasting meat wafted on the air as they made their way to two vacant stools. The joy-tinged call of the vendor as they sat made them both smile; lifting the menu from the slim-line tray in front of him, Colinson flipped it open. The vertical columns of script slipped from the page as his eyes scrolled over it, easily reading the menu. With a soft nudge of his elbow, he drew her attention, her soft, brown, almond-shaped eyes peering into his. As he showed her the choices, a coy almost girlish smile teased at her face as she saw what he had picked. A soft, red tinge painted her skin as he smiled and called over to the vendor.
 

'I cannot believe you remembered.'
 

Colinson grinned as he pulled the skewered king prawn from the bamboo with his teeth.
 

'I remembered your coffee, didn't I?'
 

Akemi smiled as she toyed with the skewer, letting the fried shellfish soak in the soy sauce for a few moments before biting off a small piece.
 

'Yes, you did, but you also dropped it and let it soak into the mat outside my front door, so for all I know you could have got it completely wrong. Although, this does make up for it somewhat.'
 

She slipped the rest of the prawn into her mouth, slowly pulling it from the slim stick of bamboo, her eyes locking with Colinson's as she finally pulled it free. A small blush tinged his cheeks as he watched her. Coughing into his balled fist, he turned back to his plate and continued eating, her soft, throaty chuckle meeting his ears as an unbidden smile teased at his lips.
 

Colinson smiled slightly as he stubbornly tore his gaze away from hers. As he motioned to the proprietor, the man hobbled forwards, his face beaming with a miss-matched patchwork of true enthusiasm and fake joy.
 

With a movement smoothed by years of practice, the man cleared their plates and utensils from the counter and slipped the bill between them.
 

Colinson quickly scanned the slip of paper and leafed through a small fold of notes in his pocket before pulling out a selection of the coloured notes and leaving them on the small, black plate. With a nod and a smile to the man, he gently eased Akemi from her seat, guiding her down towards the train station.
 

A shocked call echoed down the road as the wizened old cook counted the money David had left behind.
 

'Did it again, didn't you?'
 

David smiled as he let his fingers dance over Akemi's side, making her squirm as she tried desperately not to laugh. She glanced up at him as they stopped at the crossing and watched as the lights glowed and the traffic pulled to a stop.
 

'Come on; I'll show you how much I remember.'

****
 

David's eyes opened as he sat up in his chair, a contented smile glazing over his face. Pushing up from his chair, he slowly walked over to his office window, the sky just turning a deep purple as he watched the sun sink ever lower.
 

Flicking the ash from the end of his cigarette, he turned and dropped the still smouldering stick of tobacco into his ashtray and moved towards the door.

14
June 3
rd
4:45pm
Broadhead Training Grounds
The Village

The air snapped at their clothing as they shot towards the floor, the packs on their backs weighing heavy as they gripped the controls tightly. The glow of the altimeter flicked over their eyes as they flew like the spear of Achilles, slicing through the dying rays of the day.
 

Woodwrow grinned like a maniac as he shot past the recruits; his wailing cry of exultation echoed through their ears as he rolled, whipping through the air before snapping the wings open. His body went ridged while he soared over the patchwork quilt of fields and farms. He watched his shadow glide over the rising bumps of hills and hedges; its black form slid across the landscape like the shadow of death as he looked upon the world below.

Banking left, he watched the blinking dots of the sixty trainees in his wake as they turned with him, their silent mass descending upon their target like the winged legions of Heaven. The muffled thump of expanding parachutes rolled past him as he pressed down on the ends of the wing controls. He snapped back against his own weight, his shoulders yowling at him as the harness went taut.
 

Woodwrow let his body go limp as he was suddenly jerked to a semi-stop, his mind whirling ever so slightly as his velocity dropped to all but zero. He reached up his hands, hitting the quick-release clips, which dropped him with a bone-shaking jar as he hit the floor four feet below.
 

His hands snapped down as he brought his weapon up to join in the chorus of the staccato pops of automatic weapons. His mind lurched as a dull crunch echoed behind him; all the while, the training group advanced, firing at the dummy targets.
 

'Fuck it; cease fire, cease fire. Make safe and form up.'

Cutting to a new channel, Woodwrow snapped off an emergency call to the medical team in the helicopter, the three-man team landing next to him only seconds later. Woodwrow watched, his mind clamouring for an explanation, as he looked at the crumpled and bloody form on the floor. Stepping forwards he watched the lead medic rise to his feet and shake his head as he caught Kevin's eye. Cursing under his breath, he nodded and turned back to the training team.
 

'Exercise is scrubbed; board the helicopter and head back to base. I will follow on shortly. You're all confined to barracks until we get this settled.'
 

Woodwrow's fingers traced a sweat-laden path through his shorn hair. The crumpled and twisted form twitched and spasmed as its mind tried in vain to move the shattered remains of the body it had once sought shelter in.

Kneeling, he let his eyes trace through the blood-matted clothing, torn and twisted flesh, and the shattered remains of the now useless wing pack. Pushing to his feet, he glanced quickly at the medical team.
 

'Pack him up and get him to cold storage. Just make sure to preserve his rig as is. I want that dropped off at the armoury; I need to take a look at this myself before Push Pin gets his greasy mitts all over it.'
 

The three men nodded as they laid a matte-green tarpaulin over the body and prepared to ship what remained of the soldier home.

Baker Residence
Northeast London

Baker sat staring at the television, his fists clenched in silent rage as he watched the images play out in front of him. With a heavy curse, he hurled his half-full drink at the wall, watching as it sprayed across the heavy flocked wallpaper. The reporter, her eyes wide as she looked at the reports in her hands, composed herself before she turned back to camera and continued with her report.
 

'The explosion in the Canary Wharf today claimed the lives of seventeen people and wounded seventy-six others; authorities were quick to respond to the scene and managed to gain control of the situation quickly. No one has claimed responsibility for the bombing at this time.'
 

Janet jumped when the can spun past her head as she stepped through the doorway, cold foaming beer peppering her as she looked at her husband.
 

'Derek?'
 

His nostrils flared as he pushed himself to his feet, his eyes awash with a violent anger as he looked upon the slightly nervous face of his wife.
 

'Sorry darling; this has pissed me off. I just don't get this country anymore. With all that's going on, people still think it's a good time to blow the hell out of a building full of office workers. With all that has happened in the world, you would think that they'd put aside their petty ideals and beliefs that their Imams and clerics denounce with as much fervour as those fanatics that they are working to stop. Sometimes I really wonder if these people are worth protecting anymore.'
 

He gently pushed past Janet and pulled open the basement door.
 

'I am going to work this loose; call me if you need me.'
 

With those words echoing off the walls around him, he disappeared, the blackness swallowing him whole. Janet stood quietly watching the darkness as the sound of flesh on canvas floated up from the yawning maw before her. Shaking her head gently, she moved into the front room and switched off the television before turning and heading back into the kitchen.
 

Janet stopped, lifting Maria from her playpen, smiling as her daughter tugged and pulled as Janet lifted her sweater up and away, freeing her breast; the sudden hit of cold air on her still overly sensitive nipple made her jump slightly. A shock of fear rippled through her as her grip loosened, Maria's panicked squeak rushing through the fog of her flushed and embarrassed mind as she slipped from her mother's grasp.
 

'Oh shit.'
 

Maria giggled as Janet bent down and scooped her daughter from her half-grasp, which had kept the baby from breaking free of her mother's arms. 'That was close, huh, darling?'
 

Maria batted the flats of her hands against Janet's cheeks as she raised her daughter to her face and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. 'Okay, breakfast then time for a bath; someone is getting a little stinky.'
 

The splash of water filled the kitchen as Janet filled the sink a third of the way and dropped the baby bath seat into it. Maria stared at her mother's moving hands, swatting at them as she was dis-robed. Her wide, blue eyes followed each and every movement they made as the baby grow and nappy were stripped away, leaving her nude and still wriggling even as she was lowered into the lukewarm water; with a soft splash, she was slid into place. Her eyes widened as the water pooled around her and a raucous fit of giggling echoed forth as she hit the water, her hands sending a glittering spray of crystal droplets into her mother's face. She watched with avid fascination as Janet squeezed a small amount of the pale-gold baby wash into her palm and set about washing her daughter's hair.

The air filled with ringing chimes as the doorbell rang. Calling out to the shadow behind the door, Janet lifted the jug of lukewarm water, and gently rinsed the suds from Maria's head as she burbled and splashed at the water, sending crystalline droplets shimmering through the air.
 

Lifting her from the seat, Janet picked up the plush, heavy towel and cocooned Maria in its soft warmth as she stepped into the hallway towards the door.
 

The slim form that greeted her made Janet's eyebrows furrow. The lightly bronzed complexion and slim-framed glasses gave her face an almost impish appearance. The faded jeans and form-fitting long sleeved t-shirt drew her age very much into question, despite the confidence that her stance and voice lauded.
 

'Hello, Mrs Baker, I'm Siobhan. I assume the agency phoned you, telling you I would be here today?'
 

Janet relaxed slightly, although the puzzled frown still sat firmly rooted to her brow. Shifting Maria's weight onto her hip, Janet held out one water-dampened hand.
 

'No, they didn't, but please come in. I was just finishing Maria's bath. Take a seat in the living room while I get her dried and into her playpen.'