Attrition of the Gods: Book 1 of the Mystery Thriller series Gods Toys. (38 page)

One of these men picks up a message on his walkie-talkie and gives a sign to the others situated at the three corners of the prison yard, leaving the corner with the entrance back into the main prison free. As Johnny-No-Legs watches, the men pull out AK47s. At first he thinks he is mistaken but on a second look is convinced that the guards are loading the light machine guns. No-Legs looks confused but does not expect what happens next.

The three men point the guns at the gathered prisoners and indiscriminately open fire. Shocked, No-Legs stands frozen as bodies wriggle and dance, blood gushing from wounds, before dropping to the ground. The sound of alarm and pain rings out as bones and flesh are penetrated by volumes of ammunition. No-Legs feels his side collapse and is careering across the yard, forced by the shoulder of his best friend, Big Pete, who directs them both behind a group of bins.

“They’re gonna fucking kill us all!” shouts Big Pete to his shocked friend.

Both men somehow shuffle under the bins and watch on as the imposters slaughter the inmates. A fat guy he recognises as Mad Steve is running right towards the shooters, screaming madly. Each bullet that hits him seems only to spur him on until one enters his eye socket and, like a bull elephant, he is finally floored. No-Legs watches in horror as some inmates freeze in shock, waiting for the inevitable, others use fallen bodies as shields in a desperate attempt to survive and many have tried to rush back into the smoke-filled building but are barred by the rising heat and smoke. With nowhere else to go they are picked off like fish in a barrel.

From their makeshift hideout No-Legs and Big Pete stare in pure terror as the bastard shooters actually herd the men back into the burning prison, no longer shooting at them but more around them. Confusion reigns as the prison guards who are using firefighting equipment inside and attempting to back away from the flames meet the oncoming prisoners trying to escape the gunfire.

Sirens can be heard in the distance. No-Legs can tell from the urgency in the assassins’ final moves that they wish to complete their task before the real police arrive. He also notices that the inmates and guards have barricaded themselves inside the burning building, firefighting as they do so, in a mad attempt to survive. Big Pete taps No-Legs on the shoulder and points to the feet of an assassin who seems to be coming their way. The feet stop less than ten feet from the two men. He pulls out a radio and they overhear his message.

“All clear out here. All survivors are in the building. No sign of Mills or Verdi.”

Inside Rupert receives the message and presses the detonator.

Outside the shooter makes a hand signal to the other men and they quickly disappear. No-Legs releases the breath he didn’t realise he was holding just before the building goes up. The blast explodes out into the yard, debris and dust easily blow away the bins that were their only protection. Coughing and burned, Johnny can no longer see or hear Big Pete. He lies face down, praying the slaughter is over and the slayers have gone. Seconds pass and Johnny looks to his left to witness Big Pete’s half decapitated head hanging from his shoulders. He looks up and as the dust settles his heart sinks. An AK47 is pointed right at him, its master smiling like a drunk who just found a fiver.

The only survivors from the entire prison are in the small helicopter that took off two minutes earlier. The Governor watches out of the window in horrified disbelief. “What have you done?” Shane would plead his innocence but he knows there is no point. He debates whether to throw Byrne out of the craft, knowing that if released his version of the story will not reflect well on the three fugitives. Then he remembers that he is likely to be public enemy number one soon no matter what he does, so why bother? Anyway, there has been enough killing.

TV STATION REPORT: ONE HOUR LATER

“Today here in Stoke at one of the UK’s largest prisons an unprecedented catastrophe has happened. Reports are unconfirmed as to what has caused the explosion but the emergency services have been attempting to rescue any survivors for over an hour. Early reports suggest that over one hundred prisoners are dead and perhaps as many as five hundred missing. In addition, there are nearly forty prison guards unaccounted for and many emergency staff who arrived just as a second explosion detonated. The police will not let anyone beyond the road you can see here which is approximately two miles from the prison gates. As you can see, behind me convoys of emergency vehicles are coming and going with alarming regularity.”

The picture on the TV switches from the anchor to the newsroom studio.

“Can you tell us, Jeremy, what time do we believe the explosion happened?”

“Well, initial reports tell us that the local police station was alerted at 15:15 to an incident, possibly an explosion, in the kitchen area. They then contacted all the emergency services and as a precaution the mobile riot squad was also called. It seems that the first ambulances and fire brigade accompanied by a couple of police cars arrived within twenty minutes. Here the story becomes a bit a little uncertain as the commander of the riot squad has stated his vans were half an hour away at this point. Yet witnesses from the locality have claimed that there was at least one riot van on site before the emergency services got here. Also, reports are coming in that gunfire was heard just before the second, much larger, explosion…”

“Sorry to interrupt, Jeremy, but we have some breaking news. Governor Byrne, who was among the missing, has just been found safe and sound over thirty miles from the prison itself. It seems Governor Byrne walked into Burton town police station, explaining that he had been taken hostage during what he claims was a prison break for three prisoners: Shane Mills, Robert Price and Leo Verdi. We will get more on that report as soon as it’s confirmed.”

Venice – Present day

Reuben has been watching quite contently up until he hears that last statement. He looks at Simeon, confused and angry, but the smile on Simeon’s face cuts him dead. So many thoughts are running through Simeon’s mind but mainly he is relieved that the human champion managed to escape. He wonders how this has happened, though, as they obviously did not follow the plan. If they had, no one would have suspected that Shane had survived the explosion, never mind hold him and Robert responsible for it, making them the most famous people in Britain right now. Then how did he allow the prison Governor to slip through his hands? Human kindness? Simeon ponders that the change of plan was probably a result of Shane’s reluctance to kill Leo. Amitiel had expressed her concern in this matter. Good old Leo. Simeon has mixed feelings about the survival of his friend, happy he may still be alive but also concerned. Simeon does not know if these issues are signs of weakness on Shane’s behalf or perhaps signs of strength. Either way, he cannot help him now. His beautiful plan to give them new IDs and have both of them transported to a safe place is in tatters. Still, at least they got out. He looks at Reuben who is still struggling to work out how his perfect plan went so wrong and now Simeon is the one who laughs uncontrollably.



Shane fairly competently navigates the helicopter through the English countryside; the army was a good source of a true variety of skills. They have a hair-raising five minutes while Shane hovers only ten feet off the ground and tells Robert to throw the Governor out into the field.

“Are you fucked-up or somink?” the small black guy shouts at him, still brandishing his sub-machine gun.

“What do you want me to do? Kill the guy for no reason?” replies Shane.

“No, I want you to kill him for a very good reason: he’s the only guy who can tell the world that you are out and on the run!”

“Well, I won’t kill him,” frowns Shane. “I am not going to start killing innocent people, not for you or Leo or this Simeon dude I’ve never met. I don’t kill people just for the sake of it or to protect my own hide, okay?”

Chamuel looks at Leo then Robert. “So, this is the great white hope? Man we is all fucked!” Chamuel is still sulking as Shane contemplates their next move.

“We best land soon,” shouts Robert over the din. “We don’t want air traffic to trace us once Byrne spills the beans.” Shane nods in agreement and sets the craft down with a jolt in a field full of cows. Chamuel wrinkles his nose. “If I get cow shit on these trainers there is going to be trouble, yo hear me?” Shane looks at Leo and Robert. “Does he ever shut up?” The two men respond together. “No.”

The Pitts 2146

For two hours Chamuel has been using his large repertoire of late-twentieth-century popular culture to entertain his fellow travelling companion. His main objective is to get her mind off the unfortunate loss of Adam. So far, he thinks it is going rather well.

Ember has no idea what the man she is travelling with is going on about but from his heavy laughter at the end of each anecdote she assumes he is trying to be funny. She has never heard of Mr Bean or Samuel L. Jackson and what he is doing puffing out his cheeks and saying some crap about the Godfather heaven knows. Not that she is even listening. All she can think about is Adam.

“Look, where are we going?” asks Ember when Chamuel pauses in between impressions.

“Patience, you must have my young Padawan,” says Chamuel in his best Yoda impression.

Ember stops.

Noticing her clenched fists, Chamuel stops too. “I am sorry, truly I am. Everything that has happened to you lately must seem totally bizarre and pretty damn scary to boot, but I promise you it will all become clear soon. It will still be scary but at least you will know why. For now I can explain the first part of the mission if you think it would help?”

Ember bristles at the word “mission”. Surely one had to accept a mission before being expected to complete it. She shakes her head in disbelief. “Just tell me where we’re going.”

“We have to get to the Hispanic part of the city. Fortunately these sewers service the whole of the Megatropolis above and there is a gateway ahead that I am hoping the authorities will not be monitoring.”

“What is in the Hispanic sector? Is there a safe house there or something?”

“There is no safe place for you now,” Chamuel says apologetically. “If the Host is aware of who you are then he will willingly tear his own beloved city to shreds to find you. Believe me, he has a track record in such things. We can only hope to stay one step ahead of him. To do that we need to see what is on this disc and to do that we need to find someone with an old-fashioned DVD player. I know a guy who knows a guy…”

“Don’t we need vaccinations to enter that area? We are taught that there are rampant issues with disease in this sector. Plus our chips won’t work…” Ember looks down at her redundant device. “Oh yeah.”

Chamuel laughs. “Okay, we have a long journey ahead of us, so why don’t we conduct a small investigation into what utter fucking rubbish you were taught in school.”

Ember feels pleased for the first time in hours. Always keen to impress people with her knowledge, Ember decides she will join in this conversation
. “Finally, a chance to prove my worth,”
she thinks; no longer will she be seen as the foolish spoiled brat. She knows this stuff, and she knows what
actually
happened, rather than some of the crap that other kids were taught. She silently thanks her father for taking the time to educate her properly.

“Well, to be honest I learned more out of school than in,” she tells Chamuel.

“That’s good and what is your chosen specialist subject?”

“Er, history is my favourite subject, well… I suppose specialising in pre-rapture.”

“Okay, you have the next ten minutes to answer questions on events prior to the rapture. I will give you a starter for ten. Who was the leader of the Diabolicals?

“Ffft, that’s a bit easy. Shane Mills.”

“When was the first mention of the Diabolicals in the media?”

“Mmm, that would be around two or three years after the prison break. They led an Islamic terrorist group into Cyprus, capturing British army bases. The news reporters there nicknamed them the Diabolicals because of the slaughter and carnage they caused to the beautiful island and its people.”

“Okay. When did the Host first appear to the world and in what form?”

“Easy peasy. The miracle of Juarez was the first report of the Messiah’s return.”

“Go on.”

“An American news reporter witnessed the miracle during a visit to Mexico. He saw a holy man preaching peace on the border town of Ciudad Juarez. The local drug cartel had taken objection to his preaching and the large following he had. The reporter claimed that he saw the man being dragged off the steps of the church and taken to a square where he was to be publicly executed in front of his followers. The leader of the bandits pointed his gun into the Host’s face and pulled the trigger but nothing happened. He then took a second gun from one of his men and checked it was working before pointing it at the Host and pulling the trigger. Once more, nothing happened. The Host was said to be praying for the man’s forgiveness while this all went on. He smiled each time the guns failed to fire and blessed them. After five or six attempts some of the bandits began to kneel and pray. Eventually the leader also kneeled and prayed, crying while he did. The Host wiped away his tears and told him, ‘From today you will be my envoy for peace. Go to your people and tell them this war is over. They must be ready to fight in another and this time, they will fight for God.’”

“Wrong.”

“Excuse me! That is exactly what happened.” Ember stares at Chamuel, determined to prove she is right. “Trust me, I have read everything there is to read about the coming of the Host and how he saved the world from destruction.”

“Wrong.”

If he is trying to antagonise her, it is certainly working. Ember squeezes her hands into fists. “Oh, this is stupid. Are you just going you say ‘wrong’ to every answer I give? And, I am sorry, but what would you know? I mean you’re not much older than me and you’re black… by which I mean you don’t get the right education because you’re not Aryan… Oh, you know what I mean.”