Hope this doesn’t send anyone to sleep, revisited parts of this story again, and added some more. Happy reading
Guests of the peninsular
As he lay there in bed, the alarm clock flashing 3am, but who knew the real time, as the power had gone out earlier that night. Lying there, just staring out past the black cat sitting on the windowsill at the open window. Both peering out into the space beyond the teaming rain, as the lightning flashes and the thunder cracks their merry dance.
To Creek, the sweet sounds of the storm that he fell asleep to some hours before lull for just the briefest of moments, a faint voice pricks his ears. Creek rubs his eyes, unsure if he is awake or dreaming. And there it is again. A call for help of some kind, Creek thinks, a voice in any case. Bouncing to his feet, as the black cat darts back into the room from the open window, Creek takes a close look out the window, straining his ears to detect the voice in the storm.
Throwing some clothes and a pair of boots on quickly, he grabs his all weather coat, flood lamp, and his remote location medical kit as he heads out the door thinking, who would be out this wild weather on a remote peninsular in the middle of nowhere almost. Stopping under the covered roof of the gated entrance to the yard, Creek looks around trying to decipher the direction of the voice amongst the rain, thunder, and wind.
With the flood light turned on, Creek begins to do a sweep from left to right, when he hears a number of voices yelling through the downpour. Turning the light in the direction of the shouts, Creek can make out three shadowed figures’, he sets off in their direction.
As Creek gets closer, he can see a fourth figure lying on the ground in the rain and mud, with two of the other figures kneeling over them.
“What’s up, everyone okay?” Creek asks loudly as clap of thunder almost drowns out his question.
“Great, you’ve got a kit. What do you have in it?” comes a female voice from one of the rain-drenched figures kneeling on the ground.
“It’s a full remote location kit, same as what you’d find being used in warzones and remote areas around the world.” runs the response from Creek as he breaks the kit open.
“Hurry up, now, we need to get out of here. They might be still following us,” yells another female voice from the figure still standing, as she acts agitated, looking back behind the group with a machete in their left hand.
“Just wait up, Skye, let us plug up some of the holes in Glenn, and close the gapping slash on his leg, then we’ll move,” shouts the other kneeling figure in a female voice.
“Hi! I’m Trees, that’s Suz.”
“And that’s Skye, with the machete.” Skye forces a smile through her wet hair across her face.
“What medical experience you got?” asks Trees, as both her and Creek rifle through the medical kit for what they require to patch Glenn up in order to move him.
“Ex-paramedic now turned caretaker for remote properties,” responds Creek as he picks the lamp up and hands it to Sky.
The three work quickly to stop as much of Glenn’s bleeding as possible, while Sky holds the light as she continually glances back behind, hoping what ever has been following them is not approaching.
As Trees and Suz, finish stemming as much of the blood flow, Creek breaks out the collapsible stretcher poles and webbing. Quickly they bundle Glenn on to the stretcher and make for the direction of the towering stone edifice that Creek is currently caretaking.
As they enter the great door of the building, the sounds of the storm instantly dissipate a little.
“This way, into the hall here.” Soon they are in a hall with a long table and fireplace to the side that is still glowing with warmth. They place Glenn up on the table, as then Creek quickly lights the lamps in the room. Skye closes the door, bolts, and slides the timber bar across to secure the entrance.
“Don’t worry, I have absolutely no idea what I would do with this if I had too, and no, I didn’t cut Glenn’s leg,” says Skye, waving the machete around in the air.
Trees and Suz start removing Glenn’s clothes to take a closer look at his wounds, check his vital signs, and examine for further wounds.
“I’ll be back in a minute, Miss, just going to get some water and some further medical supplies. How’s your friend?”
“Hey, the name’s Trees! That’s fine, we’ve got things covered here for the moment, but can you get a move on, we need to clean his wounds up and patch Glenn up properly.”
A short time pass since Creek leaves the room, while the storm picks up in ferocity, parts of the grand old building begin to groan to its call.
“What was that?”
“Just the old house feeling the torment of the storm, Skye… Trees, Glenn’s coming too.”
“What happened?” Glenn attempts to get up, but fails due to the state of his injuries, as Trees, and Suz urge him with some force to stop him from moving. Glen passes out unconscious again.
“Hey, where’s that Creek fella? How long does it take to find more medical supplies?”
“Skye, can’t you see this is a big place, plus, he’s only just the caretaker here.”
“Suz, give up, and Skye, hold on, Creek will be back before too long.”
The storm lulls for a few moments, just enough for the sounds of footsteps to echo a strange way through the building, just as Creek appears from a side stairway with more medical supplies and sterilised water. The echo stops, while the fury within the tempest begins to thunder, and light up the night air again. He hands the supplies of to Trees, whom immediately finishes cleaning up the slash on Glenn’s leg and stitches it up while he is still out to the world. Creek and Suz, check out the other wounds to Glenn’s body, while waiting for Trees to finish stitching the leg.
Whispering so that Skye cannot hear the conversation, “While upstairs grabbing the supplies, outside I noticed you’ve been follow…”
“Skye, away from the door!” yells Trees… “Quick, what weapons do you have here?”
Just as Skye steps to the side, an explosion rips in an instant through the heavy timber doors with their bolt, sending splinters, chunks of wood, and steel into the room as the percussive blast hits Tree’s Creek, and Suz, throwing them up against the far wall like rag dolls in a storm of confetti.
Holding the machete in her left hand, Skye backs up fast against the wall, the one nearest the doorway minus its door. Waiting while all the debris settles to the floor in a map of carnage. There’s a long pause of inflicted silence in Skye’s ears, as she waits, and waits, for her fear to make their entrance…
Three figures pass through the gaping entrance way, as the storm’s lightning casts halos of them against the far stone wall. Ominous runs the sensations through Skye, when each bolt, flash of the storm’s wild moments reflects upon her face from the three sentinel looking beings hazmat suits. Their weapons clearly levelled into the room, searching for what they came for, searching for Doctor Glenn Andrews. With the room thrown into darkness from the explosion, the three suits reach to turn their lights on as faint sound comes from the far end of the room.
It’s Trees, and Creek regaining consciousness, fighting to raise themselves from being slumped on the floor, unaware of what is about to befall them. Without hesitation, Skye recovers her composure to launch from the dark corner, wielding the machete in quick succession to ventilate their hazmat suits, and dislodge their weapons to send them, and the suits crashing back out across the stone floor into the storm.
Her heart racing, Skye takes flight towards the end of the room, launching from the stone floor as she sprints along the thirty feet of ancient oak table to where Trees, and Creek are just beginning to realise what’s happened. Dropping fast from the table, Skye crouches low between the pair to notice the bodies of Suz, and Glenn rest slumped motionless against the cold stone wall. Not even a whisper of a breath from either, as Trees recovers enough to check their pulses.
“They’re gone, their both gone, Skye”
“We need to get out of here. Now Trees! We don’t have much time.”
“Listen! This old hulking edifice is at the centre of a network of tunnels from the time of the great wars. The oldest tunnel leads to the lighthouse out on the rocky crag of a cape two miles away. It was constructed to be able to get fuel, and supplies to the lighthouse in bad weather.”
“Enough of the history lesson, where’s the entrance?”
“Over around two corners, and beneath the stairs.”
“Well what are we waiting for, lead the way. Come on, Trees…”
In an instant, Skye picks up a bow of old, and slings two full quivers of arrows over each shoulder. Trees goes to grab some medical supplies.
“Don’t worry about those, there are two kits at the lighthouse.”
Skye raises her head above the table to see five more hazmat figures approaching through the storm to the doorway, and two strange occurrences behind them. They seem part of the storm, but they are not. Two swirling tangles of chaos, beings composed of rain, leaves, mist, dirt, sticks, and wind, with the faint whisper of song in an unknown language emanating from them.
Darting up from the floor, and drawing arrow after arrow in rapid succession, Skye lets them take flight out through the gaping hole to the new approaching storm.
“Quick! Make for under the stairs, I’ll be right behind you!” yells Skye, over the top of the natural storm.
Those approaching the ancient building level their weapons, and start firing into the dark heart of the room containing the three. Trees, and Creek dart for the back of the stairs as a number Skye’s arrows find their mark, felling three out of the five, but passing right through the two larger figures at the rear. Ricochets can be heard deflecting from off the stonewalls to find no target, for Skye can see out, but they can not see in through the darkness.
Soon Skye lets the last arrow go, dumping the quivers, and bow, her feet quickly catch Trees, and Creek, as he opens the entrance to the tunnel network to then just as fast, close it behind them as the black cat darts through between his legs to join them. So without even waiting, the cat darts head long into the blackness of the tunnel, as Creek, Skye, and Trees flow close on his, I’m waiting for nobody heels, when smack, clank. Trees at a half hearted weary sprint, bounces backwards off a steel gate sectioning the tunnel, the cat doesn’t slow, or even look back. He is gone.
“Now, Trees! You promised not to swear while we were out tonight,” lets fly Skye, with a slight giggle.
“Well who the hell puts a gate in the middle of a tunnel, with no lighting, they could of at least posted a sign telling us to slow down,” complains Trees, standing to her feet as she wipes blood from a gash to her forehead. “Creek, anyone would think that your place was party central tonight…”
The tunnel starts to quake, as all three brace, but lose their footing anyway, they thump into the stone cold floor of the passage. As the Earth’s thunderous shake continues, the two figures of chaos above, have not entered the house, but drift heavy above the mud-drenched earth as they summon the weather to tear at the foundation of the now deserted grand home. The footings, cornerstones crack as they begin to shatter, sending the entire area into convolutions, that none of the strange suited figures in the background remains on their feet. Higher, and higher into the heights of the storm the old hall rises, must be perhaps a couple of hundred feet, maybe more, just waiting there, slow vibrating to pieces. When then the two haunting shapes turn their backs, an almighty rush of air pummels downward like wind sheer, severing the once constructed stone structure in thirds before driving its remains back into the torn landscape where once it rested. Large stones shot off like cannonballs, stripping much of the surround vegetation bare, and splintering trees on impact.
The tunnel ceases to rattle its discontent over the happening up on the surface, as the three once again drag themselves up off the ground of rock.
“Sorry, I forgot all about the gate, it’s not locked, see,” says Creek, as he pulls the gate open back towards them.
Trees, and Skye pause for a moment, “Men!”
They all start moving again, but even faster this time, for the explosion they heard just before the quaking stopped, lit the fire of fear in all of them. Creek is unsure, that if they make the cape lighthouse will they be safe. Trees is still a little dazed, but its nothing she hasn’t experienced before in hospitals that have been blown up, shot up, and bulldozed, all the while work colleagues, and her continued to save lives. Skye is thinking, she grew up as a nomad orphan, drifted across continents, slept beneath the stars and trees amongst the grasses, but that seeming never-ending tunnels, well they’re just not her thing. Sky bolts past Trees, and Creek, when without the slightest of hints, a distant light appears in the passage. Skye, and Trees grind to a stumbling halt low to the floor as Creek leaps across the tops of their heads, and shoulders. No second thought, no hesitation. The two girls watch as the last of the light swallows, Creek’s silhouette, waiting, not even moving as the rumours of sweat, and blood trickle from their bodies…