Broken Arrow

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The first sign that something was wrong came when they lost contact with the sentries on the outskirts of the city.

"Could just be a fault in the radio equipment," Jack said to Mary when he visited her room, but the look on his face told her he didn't believe that for a second. When Robert's teams had originally infiltrated Nottingham, they'd kept up the pretence that the guards were still on duty, to retain the element of surprise. If the lookouts really were gone, then it showed that whoever was on their way didn't care whether they knew or not. "But I've already begun spreading the word among the men, just in case," Jack continued.

"We'd better gather people together," Mary told him, "Just give me a second." That second had been to grab a coat and fish out her father's precious old Peacekeeper revolvers, along with the bullets she had left. Robert hadn't even bothered asking her to give them up, as he knew what the answer would be. "Okay," she said, and they walked out together along the corridor.

Tate and Gwen hadn't been hard to find, they were still arguing down below.

"The fact remains, you got me here under false pretences! I thought better of you, Reverend." The auburn-haired woman was holding her baby in one arm, and jabbing a free finger in Tate's face.

"I never said anything about you taking more weapons back to Hope."

"New Hope," she reminded him. "We have all the food we need, what else was I expected to think?

"But you know, as well as I, Robert's feelings."

"Screw Robert. He's leaving my people out there defenceless!" snapped the woman, then caught sight of Mary and Jack from the corner of her eye. She stopped her rant, but didn't apologise.

Tate shook his head. "I only did this out of the best of intentions. Robert has gone to tackle this new threat, and I thought you'd be safest here."

"You may have underestimated exactly how safe we are," Mary told the holy man.

Jack explained about the lookouts to the baffled Tate.

"Then we need to break out those weapons right away!" Gwen said. "Start handing them out to your men and-"

"The men are capable of defending themselves regardless" said Mary.

Gwen rounded on her. "I thought you out of all of them had some sense, Mary."

"I do," she replied.

"And what's that tucked away there, a peashooter?" Gwen aimed her finger at Mary's belt, where one gun was stuffed in the front, the other out of sight round the back.

"That's different, it belonged to…" Mary didn't have time for this. "Look, have you seen Mark? We all need to stick together, keep inside the castle.

"And Adele," Jack said. "Have you seen her?"

Mary wasn't actually that bothered where she was.

"Last time I saw Mark, he was with Sophie outside," Tate informed them.

"Right," Mary said, making for the nearest exit and shrugging on her coat.

"Mary, let me-" Jack began, but she was gone before he had time to finish.

Outside, Mary looked for Mark and Sophie. She made her way around the castle, coming up with nothing. As she was about to make another pass, she stopped. Something was amiss. You didn't live somewhere for over a year — especially somewhere they'd originally taken over — without noticing subtle differences in your surroundings. This one, however small, was big in other ways.

The lock had been broken on one of the gates leading to the caves, the gate itself slightly ajar.

"Gwen…" Mary muttered to herself. She'd noticed a real difference in the woman since she'd returned to the castle, since she'd set herself up as a leader in her own right at New Hope. Mary had got to know her a little during the later stages of her pregnancy, during and after the birth, but the woman who'd driven in here late yesterday had been barely recognisable. She made some allowance for the fact that Gwen was being forced to return to the place where she had once been held captive. But it was more than that, Mary could see it in her eyes. They were colder, the determination she'd exhibited when she left had intensified a hundredfold.

Now she'd taken not a blind bit of notice of what Mary had said, gone down to retrieve the weapons anyway in spite of Robert's instructions. At first Mary hadn't really understood this herself, surely it did make sense — as Bill had repeatedly argued — to use the weapons they'd been handed on a plate? But the more she got to know Robert, the more she saw what kind of man he was and the more she loved him for his convictions. This wasn't an obsession with the past, as her own father had, but rather a revolt against the trappings of a world that spawned the virus in the first place. It had taken everything away from Robert, and left people like De Falaise free to use those kinds of weapons (weapons, she justified to herself, from a different era to her Peacekeepers). If they took up the same kind of arms, Robert had maintained, how long before they were back in the position of country vs. country, with the threat of weapons of mass destruction hanging over their heads again?

That was why he'd gone off to face this Tsar character, completely mismatched some might think. But they'd be underestimating him, and Mary knew in her heart that Robert was anything but crazy. He believed it was something worth fighting for, a principle worth dying for. She just missed him and hoped he was okay.

It was also why she had to go down to the caves and have a word with Gwen, stop her from bringing up more of those weapons. They'd fight whatever was coming in the same spirit as Robert, not as the mad Frenchman would have done. Because he'd lost, hadn't he? And they'd won.

Mary began down the narrow, sheer steps that led into the cave system. The stone was slippery and it was dark. As she descended, though, she saw a flickering light. Someone had turned on the jury-rigged lamps which De Falaise had set up down here. For some reason she couldn't quite understand, Mary was as quiet as possible, loathe to give away her presence.

She turned a corner and saw it: the arsenal that had been carried down here not long after their victory, Robert's men disarming the Sheriff's troops and locking their toys away where they couldn't hurt anyone anymore. Until perhaps now…

Because Mary saw the female figure there in the shadows, hunched down, rooting through the weaponry like a dealer at a scrap metal yard. It was time to announce herself.

"And exactly what do you think you're doing, Gwe-" Mary cut short her sentence when she realised her mistake. As the figure righted herself, she saw that this woman had short hair, and it was much darker than Gwen's. Slowly, the woman faced her.

"Hello Mary."

"Adele." For a second or two, Mary's mind couldn't quite process this turn of events. "What are you doing down here?"

Adele just smiled that false smile of hers. "I… I heard about what was happening. And Jack told me about the weapons down here, so…"

"So you just thought you'd come and help yourself?"

"I was scared." But there was something in that voice which told Mary that Adele was anything but scared. This hadn't been a snap decision in the slightest, she knew exactly what she was doing. "Robert's not here and…" Robert again? "I'm glad you and him have patched things up," she tacked on, quickly. "Do you think he'll be all right?"

Mary frowned. What was she doing? Trying to change the subject, attempting to steer it away from why she was down in the caves after these weapons? Mary swept away all the confusion and let her instincts take over.

Don't trust her, Moo-Moo, said her brother's voice, so suddenly it almost made her start. She doesn't care about Robert. Not really. She doesn't care about any of you.

Nodding to herself, Mary then asked the most obvious question of all, the one she should have asked a long time ago. "Who exactly are you, Adele?"

"What are you talking about?" she said, a bit too hastily.

"Who are you? It's a simple enough question."

Now it was her who frowned. "I'm Adele," she confirmed, as if it answered everything. There was no response from Mary, so Adele began with: "I was born in Durham, moved away when I was old enough, travelled around… What more do you need to know?"

She's lying.

When Mary remained silent, Adele continued, like she was reading from a prepared speech. "Okay, I'm an only child, my mother brought me up on her own. It was… hard. My father… well, he left when I was very young. I never really knew him, but I would have liked to."

The woman was all caring and sharing now — why? So Mary would have sympathy for her? Another tactic? Were these more lies? Mary couldn't tell for sure, but Adele's eyes appeared to be welling up.

"I never really knew who he was until the end. Until my mother…"

Mary thought about what had happened to David, about caring for him when he died.

Don't get suckered in Moo-Moo. Don't make this about me, concentrate on what she's saying. Listen, really listen.

"I found some stuff in an old trunk in the attic of the house," Adele went on, as if she needed to get this out, share it with someone after so long. "Papers, old photographs. I knew my father had been a soldier, but nothing more. I didn't even know his real name until then. Can you imagine?"

Was it Mary's imagination, or did Adele's voice sound different, as she was becoming more emotional?

"She told me he died in some accident while he was serving abroad. The bitch! Why? Why would anyone do that?" Adele was beseeching Mary, and now the tears did roll down her face. "Everyone has a right to know where they came from, don't you think?"

The more Adele talked, the more her accent was slipping.

Born and brought up in Durham my arse… said David.

"Everyone has a right to know their father, Mary! I'd lay odds that you knew yours," Adele almost snarled. "So I set off to look for him. I had nothing but a name. I did not even know if he was still alive. I mean, my blood was his blood, but then we live in such dangerous times. I must have toured the breadth of Europe in those couple of years. But on the streets you hear rumours, and it only took one person to tell me they'd heard that name. One person who'd come across my father. Apparently he had been travelling too. Making friends all over the place. Enemies as well."

Mary began to move her hand slowly, down and sideways.

"Then he headed across to England. I suppose he thought he could start again. I can understand him wanting to come, I spent some time here myself in my teens. Mastered the 'lingo' pretty well, too, don't you think?" For this last bit Adele's accent jolted back to British, but when she spoke again she didn't bother hiding her true voice, her native accent. "So I followed his trail. All I wanted to do was meet him, get to know him, non? But by the time I got over here it was already too late. He really was dead this time. He'd been murdered."

Mary's trembling fingers made their way slowly towards the Peacemaker sticking out of the front of her jeans.

"Strange thing was, he'd been killed by someone wearing a hood, carrying a bow and arrow. A legend. And why was he killed?"

"Because he was a sadistic scumbag," Mary said seriously. "Because he took delight in other people's pain."

Adele shook her head. "Spin, created by those who slaughtered him in cold blood. He had power; he was The Sheriff!"

"He was going to hang people, Adele — if that's really your name."

"It is."

"He kidnapped me and put a sabre to my throat."

"Having spent time with you, I can certainly understand that." Adele's false smile now looked even more wrong. "My mother kept me from getting to know my father-"

"Wise woman," Mary broke in.

Adele scowled. "Then you people kept him from me forever. Well, I decided it was time you paid."

"So you thought you'd worm your way in here, have us all at each other's throats? Was that the plan?" Mary's fingers inched a little nearer to the handle.

"Sort of," admitted Adele. "I believe my father used to use the same methods of infiltration, to get inside his enemies' lairs. But it was always going to come to this in the end."

"It was no coincidence that Robert picked you up in York, was it?"

Adele shook her head. "Hardly. I've been studying the cult's movements, and Robert's, for longer than any of you realise. It wasn't hard to put myself in harm's way, to orchestrate a little… rendezvous."

Her fingers were almost there, just a fraction more. Careful, Mary, said her brother, which made her even more on edge. He only called her by her real name when he was angry with her or feared for her safety. She's crazier than her old man was.

"I must say, I can see why you're attracted to him," Adele stared at her, the tears all but dried up. "Under different circumstances and if I didn't hate his guts, maybe… Wouldn't be exactly difficult to come between you two, not with all the problems you've both got."

"You didn't come between anyone," Mary said defiantly.

"Right," replied Adele in a tone that made Mary want to punch her in the face.

"Look, we don't have much time. We're all in danger from The Tsar and-"

"Ah yes, The Tsar. An interesting twist," Adele said, stepping forward. "Even I had not foreseen that. I thought I would have to do this alone, but now… Maybe he might want to join forces, do you think?"

Hearing her talk like this, and now seeing her face — her true face — for the first time, Mary couldn't believe she'd been so blind. But then, how could anyone have known about Adele's real origins? She'd been so clever at hiding them. And in a post-apocalyptic world what did anyone really know about anyone?

"Especially if I give him a little inside help. It was only what I was going to do anyway, now that a good portion of your compliment are absent… or dead." She said this last bit with such hope, Mary made a grab for her gun — pulling out the Peacekeeper, cocking it, and pointing it at Adele's head. Adele didn't seem surprised; in fact she smiled again. That same crooked smile. De Falaise's smile. Mary was hardly likely to forget it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Adele told her, then brought up her hands, turning around and showing what she was holding. A live grenade. "The pin's already pulled, in case you were wondering. All I have to do is let go of the trigger. I go, you go with me."

Damn it, said David in her head. What are you going to do now, sis? Mary didn't have a clue. She couldn't even tell Adele to drop her weapon, or they'd both go up.

Adele offered a solution. "So, I suggest you let me walk out of here with these." She shifted to one side, nodding down at a bag on the floor. Open, because Mary had disturbed her in the act, it contained a rifle, handgun, some more grenades, and what looked to be a mini-bazooka.

"You're not coming past me," Mary said. God knows what kind of damage she'd do with those, and at a time when they might be under attack from the outside as well.

"I don't have to," Adele barked. "I know there are other ways in and out of here." She grabbed the bag then walked backwards, picking her way through the Aladdin's cave of weaponry.

Mary's gun arm wavered. "Don't."

"You are not in any position to give me orders."

Mary hated to admit it, but Adele was right. All she could do was watch her as she retreated. When she was a good way off, Adele smiled again.

"I would like to say it has been nice knowing you, but…" Adele let the sentence tail off, then tossed the grenade at Mary.

Instinctively, Mary took a shot, but the woman was already gone. Then her eyes dropped to the grenade bouncing into the middle of the arsenal.

"Nuts," said Mary under her breath.

Run, Mary, run! shouted her brother, but she didn't need to be told, her legs were already in motion. She pelted out the way she had come, making it to the steps and almost all the way up them when the explosion came.

The blast rocked the cave, blowing dust, sandstone, and Mary out with it, causing a section near the exit to fall in just behind her. She felt something heavy land on her leg, pinning her to the steps, pain following.

Mary could see the light above, the open gate, but couldn't move. She reached out her hand, yet in spite of the efforts of her brother to keep her awake, Mary found herself blacking out. It sounded like another explosion went off then, but that one was distant. She let it go, able only to focus on one thing.

Her final thoughts were of Robert, Adele's words echoing in her mind.

Absent… or dead

Absent…

Or dead.