she asked.
‘People, bad people - those that are behind the disaster. It’s all tied up you see, it’s all one thing.’
‘And what about you?’ she asked the voice at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Me? The less you know the better. Let’s just say I’m a hired hand, hmm?’
‘Hired to . . . what?’
‘Find your daughter and protect her, of course. Look, now isn’t the time for this,’ he continued. ‘You keep hold of your gun, just as long as you know how to slide the safety on. Let’s get her out of here, let’s get her safe and then you can slide the safety back off, turn your gun on me, and ask as many questions as you like.’
That sounded convincing. God knows, she wanted the voice down there to be that of a saviour, and not her daughter’s executioner.
‘Can I trust you?’ she asked.
‘What do you expect me to say, Mrs Sutherland? No? A stupid question given the situation, given we really don’t have much time left.’
It was stupid.
‘Mrs Sutherland? Can I come up and get your daughter now?’
She heard a stair creak under his weight. ‘Stay where you are!’ she hissed.
‘Okay,’ the voice replied. ‘I’m right here, not going anywhere. ’
Oh God she wanted to trust him.
He said I could keep hold of my gun, didn’t he? He said that. If he meant to harm Leona, why would he allow me to keep hold of it?
She was about to lower her weapon and cautiously accept his help when a thought occurred to her.
‘How did you know Leona was here, not at her home?’
Mike looked at Andy. ‘You’re kidding me, right?’
They heard three rounds being fired in quick succession.
Fuck it.
Andy reached out, grabbed the lamp and hurled it across the room against the wall. It smashed and the room was thrown into darkness. As the three men recoiled in surprise, Andy was already on his feet. He shoved hard against Mike, knocking him on to his back, and cannoned into another of the men on his way out of the room, into the hallway, and out through the open front door, on to the moonlit street.
His feet pounded the tarmac as he weaved around a mattress, the broken remains of chairs and a table, and other household bric-à-brac strewn across the avenue.
He shot a glance at their home on the left as he sprinted past it. It had been broken into like all the other houses, the front door wide open and their things smashed and discarded in the front garden.
Up ahead on his right, was Jill’s house.
He kicked the gate aside, and raced up the garden path in a couple of seconds. The front door was shut. He could see that it had been damaged, a large ragged hole had been kicked through the wooden panelling. He charged the door with his shoulder without breaking stride. The last hinge gave way, and the door clattered loudly on to the hallway floor.
‘JENNY!’ he shouted, his voice echoed around inside. There was no response, just a silence that had his blood running cold and the dawning realisation that he had so nearly made it home in time to save his family.
He’d heard the executioner’s shots; one for his wife, one for each of his children, and it was all over.
Then he heard it, faintly, the sound of sobbing coming from the top of the stairs. He could see absolutely nothing, but it grew louder and more distinct as it migrated down the stairs, and then, it was beside him. In the wan glow of the moon, he saw two pale white hands reach out for him.
‘Oh God, Andy!’ Jenny cried, grasping him tightly and burying her head into his shoulder. ‘Andy! Andy!’ she sobbed uncontrollably.
‘Jenny,’ he had to ask, ‘Jenny . . . the kids?’
She looked up at him, ‘They’re both all right.’
‘I heard gunshots.’
She was about to answer, when a beam of torchlight fell across them, and they heard the sound of footsteps pounding down the avenue towards them.
‘Oh God!’ she gasped, breaking her hold on Andy and producing a gun.
‘Give it to me,’ he said. She handed it to him and he trained it on a space above the nearest bobbing torch.
‘Who are they?’ she whispered, as the torch’s motion slowed to a halt and the sound of footfalls ceased.
‘I don’t know yet.’
‘Andy!’ Mike called out from the darkness just beyond the garden gate. ‘Don’t be stupid, there’s three of us, and one of you. Lower the gun.’
Andy