The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1008 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I saw the young copper fall, blood oozing from his neck and he lay flailing and frothing as his life ebbed away. I called out for help, but we had two injured officers as the one who’d fallen through the floor was lying motionless on the floor below.

Meanwhile, the Russian woman stumbled away and was clear of the area in seconds. I stopped to tend to the haemorrhaging young copper. I hoped I could do the same for him as I had for the young Russian.

“Relax, thrashing about makes it bleed more, so just relax.” I took the small first aid kit he carried and held the pad against the wound. The bullet had taken out some blood vessels in his neck–he was unconscious a moment later.

“Keep breathing,” I exhorted him as he gasped and his chest stopped moving. “Keep breathing, dammit.” I couldn’t hold the wound and do CPR. I drove the blue light into his wound talking to him as I did so, telling him to stay with me, I could save him.

It didn’t work, when a paramedic got to us, the young policeman was dead. A terrible accident–killed by one of his mates. What a thing to live with. I got up with difficulty my legs were stiff from kneeling in one position trying to save him, and my hands were covered in blood, which was now sticky or dried, it had got under my nails and splashed on the vest and jeans I was wearing. I burst into tears, and another copper led me away after giving me a hug.

They were still treating the man on the floor below–it didn’t look good. It transpired that he died as well. It wasn’t a good day for the police–and I felt to blame for it. If I hadn’t gone after the sniper, they wouldn’t have come up after me. If I’d left her to die, they’d both still be alive. Then the energy decided it would save her and let them die–what sort of thing was it? I vowed never to use it again, and told it to leave me and my family alone. It was a curse.

When I recovered, I was being handed a cup of coffee by Wheatland. “What happened to the Russian girl?”

“What Russian girl?” he asked looking blankly at me.

“The one we tried to arrest upstairs, it was in a tussle with her that the two officers got killed, one fell through the floor and broke his neck and the other was shot by the first as he fell.”

“What a mess–I didn’t see any Russian girl, only the ones we managed to arrest and they’re on their way to the local nick. Don’t worry, we’ll find your Simon.”

“Yeah, I just hope he’s alive when we do–she seemed intent on killing him.”

“Your mystery Russian woman?”

“Yes. How could you not have seen her?”

“Very simply, she didn’t come past me.”

“And you were here all the time?”

“Yes, why?”

“Where the hell did she go then?”

I drank my coffee and washed my hands in the water provided by the ambulance. I was still upset that two people had died, especially two young men who possibly had wives and families. Violence sickened me, yet I seemed to get involved in it trying to protect my own, or those trying to help me do that.

I went back into the house, most of the windows were boarded up, so where had she gone? They weren’t convinced in my story about the woman, perhaps thinking I was in shock. I was upset, I wasn’t shocked, I could still think and function well enough.

She had got downstairs, I knew that much. I didn’t know if she was armed or not. I knew she would be pretty desperate so I had to be careful. In the fading light, I searched through the ground floor, where could she hide?

There seemed nowhere. I searched again and then I saw it. The fireplace was big enough to get up into. There was also soot, fresh soot on the hearth and footprints in it. I walked away and went to find my handbag, then using my mirror, I looked up the chimney–she wasn’t there, but when I then looked up it using the little LED torch I have on my key ring, I could see she’d been up there.

I wiped the dirt off my hands, more police arrived and started closing the building off as a crime scene. I gave a statement and was taken off in a police car. I showed them the chimney and the footprints and the way they noted it, showed they thought I was crazy. I think I heard one of them say, “Father Christmas, I expect.”

They drove me back to the police HQ, where I was able to wash properly. I still wore bloodstained clothing, which I intended to dump as soon as I got home, but apparently they, the police, wanted it as evidence. They gave me one of those paper all in one suit things. I was allowed to keep my shoes.

After yet more questions and a further statement, they took me home. There was a police car parked in the drive and its occupants were in the house drinking tea with Stella.

She already knew we hadn’t found Simon, presumably the official grapevine, via the police radios. After learning Henry had taken all the children to the hotel, I went up to shower.

I wandered into my bedroom with just a towel wrapped around me and stopped in surprise when I saw the Russian woman sitting on my bed wearing some of my clothes. However, it was the gun she was holding which caught my attention.

“You certainly have a nerve,” I said when I managed to breathe again.

“I want to know something.”

“So do I, where is my husband?”

“Get dressed and do it quietly.”

I towelled my hair and combed it, then pulled on a top and jeans over suitable underwear. I finished with socks and trainers. I wanted to be mobile enough to take this woman if the opportunity arose.

“What do you want to know?”

“How you save my life?”

“I didn’t.”

“You did, I see you pull me back from void and all blue light.”

“It was the light which saved you, I just happen to bear it. It chooses who it works with and who will benefit from it. I have little control. I couldn’t save either of the police who died when you escaped.”

“I know, I saw them die–but no matter–“

“It mattered to me, they were two young men, they’d have wives and families.”

“You care too much–it weakens you.”

“No it strengthens me, it gives purpose to my life.”

“Life can have purpose, but we talk too much. We go now.”

“Go where?”

“To see your precious Simon.”

“If you’ve harmed him–“

“You’ll what, fix him again? Ha–just shut mouth and do as I tell you.”

We left via Stella’s balcony, in the same way I had in pursuit of the intruder I’d shot with the bow. I had to trust her–which wasn’t easy, not helped by the fact she had a gun and I didn’t. Then I remembered the one in my knicker drawer, which would probably have resulted in us shooting each other. Assuming I survive, I must move it in case one of the kids discovers it and shoots themselves or one of the others.

We went out through the orchard and round in a wide circle to the main road where she’d parked a car. “You drive, and no trick.” As she had a gun and she was leading me to see Simon, I wasn’t going to start anything until I’d explored that lead. After that, anything could happen.

We drove towards Waterlooville–I wonder what that commemorates–and off to one of the villages up that way. Then finally we turned up a narrow track and stopped in front of a barn.

She prodded me with the gun, “Go,” she said.

I walked into the barn, inside I saw a man lying on some straw holding a gun. He was injured by the look of things.

“Where’s Simon?” I demanded.

“You make him good again, and I show you Simon.”

“I can’t–I can’t do this anymore.”

“You heal him or I kill you and leave Simon to die–he starve in three or four weeks; he have lots of fat.”