The Weapon (The Hourglass Series Book 2) (14 page)

She
was shaken awake a few hours later. Sarah’s eyes sprang open when she
remembered what was happening. They looked right into Finn’s. He was still
lying in his sleeping bag next to her, his arm outstretched and touching her
shoulder. His eyes were wide open and his had his other finger compressed
against his lips, warning her to be quiet. Sarah looked over his shoulder at
Boulder behind him. Boulder was likewise awake. He had pushed himself up on his
elbows and was watching the others. Finn turned over and started to slow
extract himself from the sleeping bag. Sarah did the same, trying her best to
stay silent. Finally Boulder joined them, satisfied that the others were
asleep. Moving slowly and carefully, so as not to make any noise, they headed
away from the camp. A pebble rolled away from Boulder’s right boot, clacking
loudly against the other rocks. They froze. The noise seemed to reverberate in
the air. The three of them turned as one back to the sleeping figures. The
Captain grunted and turned in his sleep. Lieutenant Wong didn’t move. And
Clara… Clara’s eyes were wide open, taking in every move they made. Then Clara
looked at Sarah, and their eyes connected. Sarah held her breath. Any moment
now she felt sure that Clara would call out and raise the alarm. After what
seemed like an eternity, Clara very deliberately closed her eyes and turned
over so that her back was now facing. Sarah blinked, surprised.

“Sarah,”
hissed Finn, “c’mon, let’s move it.”

Sarah
nodded, almost automatically as her mind was still with Clara, and followed the
others. Why hadn’t Clara turned them in? It didn’t make any sense.

The
going was easier once they got out of the field and onto the old highway. They
didn’t have to be as paranoid about stepping on loose twigs or stones and could
increase their pace a little. As soon as they were well out of hearing range
Sarah broke the silence.

“Why
didn’t she dob us in?” she whispered, despite knowing that the others wouldn’t
have heard her if she spoke loudly.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” replied Boulder. “Let’s just focus on getting out of
here.”

“You
don’t think it was weird?” persisted Sarah.

“Yeah,
weird as hell,” agreed Finn, “but Boulder’s right. As long as she keeps her
mouth shut, it doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“Besides,”
added in Boulder, “she might tell them any minute. The further away we get the
better.”

“I
don’t think she’ll tell anyone,” muttered Sarah, thinking about the look Clara
gave her.

“Then
what’s the problem?”

Sarah
fell into silence and they continued down the road.

“Change
of plans,” said Boulder twenty minutes later. “We keep to the road as long as
possible before moving across the fields. We’re faster that way. If,
if
,”
he repeated, stressing the second ‘if’ and giving Sarah a look, “Clara does
change her mind and spills the beans before morning, then we want to be as far
away as possible.”

“Sounds
great to me,” said Finn.

Sarah
nodded. She had to be practical. Clara could still turn them in.

Without
discussing it they all picked up their pace a little.

Four
hours later Sarah felt herself starting to fatigue. Except for the hour of
sleep she had gotten while waiting for the others to drift off, she’d been
awake since six am the previous day. With a bit of guilty relief she realised
the boys were struggling more. Unlike her they hadn’t gotten any sleep at all.
Their pace had slowed significantly and both the boys were occasionally
stumbling over nothing. After a further thirty minutes she realised that both
the boys were too stubborn to admit being worn out first and so she made the
call.

“I’m
exhausted,” she said, “guys, we need to break soon and refresh otherwise if
they do catch us all we’ll be able to do is stare at them in angrily before
falling asleep at their feet.”

“Ok,”
said Boulder, waving a droopy arm, “off the road. We need to find somewhere
safe to catnap.”

Finn
nodded and followed them off the road. His eyes were drooping and he didn’t
seem to be taking much in. They would have to find somewhere safe quickly.

They
pushed themselves though the long grass, which was far more taxing then walking
along the paved road. They were heading downhill into a small valley. Sarah had
been following Boulder, who had instinctively been travelling along the path of
least resistance. Boulder suddenly came to a stop and Sarah was too sleepy to
prevent herself from barrelling into him. Finn wandered right past them in
almost a sleepwalk and only stopped when Sarah reached out and grabbed his arm
as he passed.

“Am
I hallucinating?” asked Boulder, “or is that an actual house?”
Sarah stared at the building in front of them doubtfully. She thought Boulder
was being entirely too generous in calling it a house. It was more like a
little hut. It was made out of stone and had a tin roof. There was some old
rusted farming equipment lying about the building. It looked like no one had
been there in years.

“It’s
certainly there,” said Sarah, still a little doubtfully.

“I
bags top bunk,” muttered Boulder, setting off again.

Finn
squinted at it. “Looks dodgy,” he murmured.

“Yes,
it does,” replied Sarah. She turned around to look behind them. “But you can’t
see the road from here and it’s well hidden. Let’s go before Boulder hurts
himself on that equipment and gives himself tetanus.”

Finn
shrugged after a moment’s hesitation and stumbled after her. By the time they
reached the hut Boulder had opened the door and gone inside. They found him
stretched out on the floor three feet from the door, snoring.

The
hut was empty inside except for a small wooden bench which had a disturbingly
dark stain on it that Sarah didn’t care to investigate more closely. There were
feathers everywhere and the dirty concrete floor was covered in bird droppings.
She shut the door behind her to find Finn already lying on the dirty concrete
next to Boulder, fast asleep. She sighed and settled herself down next to Finn.

Concrete
had never been more comfortable.

She
was asleep in seconds. Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was to
hope that she didn’t inhale the bird droppings.

Sarah
woke next morning to the sounds of a double barrel shotgun clicking in her ear.
Her eyes flung open. She was facing Boulder. He was lying on his stomach, his
face pushed sideways into the concrete. There was a boot on his back. His one
visible eye was open. He was breathing heavily, trying to stay still. Without
thinking Sarah rolled over onto her back and turned her head to face Finn. He
was lying on his back, awake and with his hands held out slightly in surrender.

“Uh
uh,” said a voice, “no sudden movements sweet pea.”

Sarah
turned her head to face the voice. She saw the shotgun first. It was big. It
also looked well-used. The man holding it definitely looked comfortable doing
so. He was big, with a rat-like face and an even rattier beard. Next to him,
with his foot on Boulder’s back, was an even bigger man, with a giant barrel
chest and thick, unkempt beard. He had to be the rat-like man’s brother. He
also held a rifle.

“Hand
over your weapons.”

“We
don’t have any,” said Finn.

Ratty
snorted. “Do I look like an idiot?” he said. Sarah kept her mouth shut. Even a
moron wouldn’t be stupid enough to answer that question. “Empty your pockets.
All of you. Now!” he snapped.

They
turned their pockets inside out.

“Lift
up your pant legs. Let me see those ankles.”

They
did so slowly, Boulder first being allowed to roll over.

“Shirts!”
snapped Ratty, getting angry now that he wasn’t finding anything.

They
lifted their shirts to expose their waistbands, conspicuous in the lack of
weapons hidden there.

“Well
I’ll be damned,” snorted Ratty, “not a weapon in sight!” He stared at them for
a moment. “You must be idiots.”

“Hey!”
protested Finn.

Ratty’s
brother redirected his shotgun to point at Finn, you got the point and shut up.

“Now
how about one of you tells me what three young persons, such as yourself, are
doing sleeping in my hen house? Or maybe more to the point, what are you doing
outside an Accord city wearing Covenant uniforms, unarmed and without any
equipment?”

When
they didn’t reply he placed his shotgun against Sarah’s knee.

“Talk
quick or she’s going to lose her kneecap.”

Before
anyone could reply a form blocked the sunlight streaming through the front
door.

“Martin
you fool,” said the figure, “more your gun away from that poor girl’s knee.”

Ratty,
aka Martin, jumped guiltily and moved the gun. “But mum,” he started.

Mum?
Sarah first
impression of the figure had been of some military general, not a mum. The
woman took a step into the hut and into the shade, enabling Sarah to make out
her features more clearly. The woman was tiny. What had been blocking most of
the sun was a ridiculously large hat that was perched precariously on the
woman’s head.

“Can’t
you see that these poor young folk are lost and scared?” she said angrily to
Martin. “And even worse, you’ve involved Bramble.”

Bramble?!
All three of
the captives’ heads swivelled around to take in the hulking mass of Bramble.
Seriously? The terrifying giant had a name that would have suited a cute bunny
in a child’s book. Sarah would have laughed but she was afraid Bramble would
take her head off.

“Put
the gun away, Martin,” repeated the woman.

“Mum,”
said Martin persistently, “they’re soldiers. Look at the uniform.”

“I’m
not blind,” she snapped. She turned to the three of them.

“Forgive
my son. He’s just being protective. You see, I’ve been burned by soldiers
before.” She held up her left hand. The skin was pink and stretched so tightly
that her hand was slightly clawed. “Literally,” she added, as if it wasn’t
obvious enough. “But I don’t need your military records to know that you three
aren’t killers. Let me guess, you ran before any of the action started?”

They
didn’t say anything.

“Martin,
the gun.”

This
time Martin slowly moved the gun away. Bramble had moved his gun the moment
their mum had given the word the first time. The three of them took this
opportunity to sit upright. It was too awkward talking while lying on the
floor.

“So,”
continued Martin’s mum, “where exactly were you trying to run to? You’re in the
middle of nowhere here. And really, you could have tried to take some other
clothes with you. You really are very conspicuous in those.”

Sarah
didn’t know which question to answer so she settled for ignoring all of them.

“Thank
you. We’ll get on our way then. I’m sorry we disrupted your morning.”

They
all got carefully to their feet. Martin watched their every move obsessively.

“Of
course, dear,” said the woman, stepping to one side of the doorway. “Just
remember what I said about your clothes.”

Sarah
nodded and they all trooped past her. As Boulder, the last of the three, walked
out the door, the woman spoke up again.

“You
probably didn’t bring any food either, I imagine? You must be terribly hungry.”

Sarah
opened her mouth to deny this but was betrayed by Finn’s stomach grumbling
loudly. The woman grinned.

“Well,
that settles it!” she said. “You must come for breakfast before your get on
your way.”
“Thank you, but really we shouldn’t…” began Sarah.

“No,
I insist!”

Bramble
and Martin took a step forward. There was the distinct impression that Bramble
would not look favourably on their refusal.

“Well,”
said Boulder, taking in Bramble’s size up close, “if you insist.”

The
woman clapped her hands, her one deformed hand deadening the sound.

“Excellent.
Martin, invite Uncle Bill and Aunt Nola along too. Bramble and I will show the
rest of you to the house.”

“Uncle
Bill and Aunt Nola?” protested Sarah weakly.

“Don’t
worry dear, they can keep a secret as well as anyone, and they would be
awesomely mad if they found out they missed a chance to talk to some
interesting young people. We’re very isolated out here, you see,” she said as
they started to walk back along a mildly overgrown path Sarah had failed to
notice the night before. “Of course, that doesn’t mean we’re ignorant of what’s
going on. We keep our ears pretty close to the wire, you know.” She continued
to ramble on until they reached the house. It was a small but surprisingly nice
old farmhouse with a concrete bunker out the back. They were ushered in under
the lumbering shadow of Bramble and invited to sit at the kitchen table. The
woman, Sarah was relieved to see, put on an apron and starting cracking eggs.
Sarah blinked. She was cracking actual, real-life eggs over a frypan. All
thoughts of how wrong this scenario felt and how they should make their excuses
and leave flew out the window as Sarah saw those eggs. Apparently she wasn’t
the only one.

“Are
those,” asked Finn, his voice cracking, “are those real eggs?”

“Of
course,” said the woman, cracking another egg. “None of that powdered rubbish
for us. We get real chicken too.”

Hell,
thought Sarah. Even if these people turned out to be insane murderers, it might
be worth it if she got to taste some real chicken.

“So
where were the hens last night?” asked Boulder.

Sarah
blinked. He was right. Except for some feathers and bird droppings, there
wasn’t a hen in sight.

“They
were over in the new hen house, dear. The one you were in is now used for
slaughter.”

“Oh.”

They
ruminated over that while the frypan continued to splatter and sizzle.

Uncle
Bill and Aunt Nola arrived just as they were finishing up the first round of
eggs. Martin was lurking behind them. Sarah put down her knife and fork,
feeling uneasy.

“Don’t
stop eating because of us dear,” said Aunt Nola. “Martin told us all about how
he found you poor things. You probably haven’t had a decent meal in an age.”

“Evie,”
acknowledged Nola as she and Bill sat themselves down at the table like it was
their own.

“Nola,
Bill, good of you to come,” said the woman, wiping her hands on her apron. “Just
in time for some toast and juice.”

Sarah,
Finn and Boulder’s heads swivelled around as one as Evie bought out a juice
that smelt like real oranges.

“Freshly
squeezed!” she proclaimed, as if she could read their minds. Sarah’s mouth
started to water.

“Thanks,
Mrs, um, Evie,” stammered Finn as she passed the jug over.

“So,”
said Bill conversationally as he helped himself to a serving of eggs. “Have you
heard the latest on the independents?” Sarah paused, her cup halfway to her
mouth.

“Only
that they’ve been spreading stories about how it’s possible to live outside the
war and that it’s causing a bit of trouble,” replied Evie. “Oh, and that
ridiculous rumour about sabotage at an Hourglass facility, of course.”

“Ah,
then you didn’t hear about the farm then?” asked Bill, obviously savouring his
extra knowledge.

“Get
to it, Bill,” said Evie, irked.

"Alright,
alright, no need to get your knickers in a bunch. Apparently they’ve been in
contact with a farm for a while now, and now the farmhands are refusing to
work. It’s an actual, goddamn strike!”

“No!”
exclaimed Evie, lowering her spatula in shock. “A strike? What are they
thinking? The military is going to crush them!”

“Actually,
they’re holding off. The farm produces some important delicate product they’re too
scared to bomb because of how expensive it is. So they’re taking things slowly,
pretending to listen to demands and things.”

“Well
I’ll be,” said Evie, flummoxed.

They
moved on to a different topic and Sarah lost her interest. Marland’s group was
obviously doing well. She glanced over at the others who nodded. It was time to
go. They stood up.

“Many
thanks for breakfast, you’ve been too kind, but we’ll get out of your hair and
on our way now,” said Sarah.

“Oh,
of course dears,” said Evie, bending down to pull something out of the
cupboard. Sarah had only a moment to realise that it was a gas mask in Evie’s
hands before Bill pulled a gas tin out of his pocket and triggered it. Within
seconds the room was full of smoke. Both Bill and Nola slipped on gas masks that
they had seemingly pulled out of nowhere. Their masks were more modern and
slimmer than Evie’s, only just covering the mouth and nose. Martin had
disappeared from the room, the door closed behind him. Bramble was coughing as
he tried to strap on a mask that he’d pulled from underneath the table. Boulder
made a lunge for Bramble’s mask but it was too late. The gas was working
quickly now.

They
were unconscious before ten seconds had passed.