The Fall of Winter by Ian W Sainsbury

Author:Ian W Sainsbury [Sainsbury, Ian W]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-06T22:00:00+00:00

Was it too late for Tom to be the hero of his own life?

Near the top of the worn stone steps leading to the cliff path, Tom stopped. He sat on the concrete and listened. Other than the beat of waves on shore, there was no sound. Nothing at all.

Debbie cooked dinner at the same time every day, and the radio always played while she prepared their food. She liked music from the eighties. She said it was the best music ever. Tom didn't want to be rude, so he said nothing.

No radio this evening. No Duran Duran, Nik Kershaw, Prince, or Grandmaster Flash.

Tom took his phone from his pocket, checked for the usual message. Debbie texted when dinner was nearly ready. Spag Bol in ten. Stew tonight, putting the dumplings in now. I feel lazy, fancy a takeaway? No messages, and no missed calls. The wind was coming from the north west. Tom breathed in. No cooking smells.

Something was wrong.

He crawled up the last few steps and, instead of coming out onto the cliff path, edged up behind the low wall. Inch by inch, he leaned out. When he could see the rear of the house, the gate, the hedge, and the back door beyond, he stopped moving.

Tom was still for twelve minutes. Then a figure in the shadows moved.

At first, he thought it was the Boy, and he was filled with a dull anger. Then he saw a stranger, bearded, in dark clothes, carrying a gun.

Where was Debbie?

A voice whispered in his ear, a voice only Tom heard.

"What's up? Changed your mind about me, have you? Poor, mad Tom. Do you, mm, do you, mm, want, mm, my help, Tom? Do you?"

Tom blinked away a tear.

"You gonna cry, Tom? Is that what you're going to do, poor baby? Have a cry while they torture your friend?"

No. No. I can, mm, help her. I will h-help her.

"You will? You? Mad, Tom? You're going to find the nasty men and beat them all up, are you? Going to rescue Debbie?"

Yes. I, mm, I am.

"Okay. Before you try, just answer some basic questions, so I know you're ready. How many of them are there?"

Tom didn't reply.

"From the shape of that gunstock, it's most likely a Heckler and Koch MP5SD, am I right? Not a weapon you see often in the UK. I imagine you worked that out, eh, Tom? Suppressed, too. That means the neighbours won't hear the shots. Now, that narrows the field. I'm guessing mercenaries, sent by our friend Winter."

No, mm, not a friend.

"Really? Are you sure? Because you stopped me putting a bullet in his head, remember? The man who killed Mum and Dad. After twenty years, after everything I've been through, after all that planning and preparation, you suddenly turn into Jiminy Cricket and ruin everything. Well, here's the result, champ."

Bedlam Boy giggled. "Come on, T-T-Tom. Come, mm, on. I'll give you some help before you start. I'd put money on there being four of them. A

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