travelling fast. 'Take cover!' screamed Javier, but his warning came too late. A single arrow was already flying. But it didn't strike any of the men as he'd expected. Instead it hit the ground, some distance from where they were standing.
What is he doing? thought Javier. Either he's a very bad aim or…
'Get up! Get up and get out!' Javier barked his orders, but they were too late.
The explosion was loud, a live grenade attached to the arrow suddenly detonating. The nearest men were thrown into the air, pulled as if performing a circus act on wires. Smoke was everywhere.
Through the smog, he saw a figure. It darted between the trees, entering the arena of battle, taking on those who were still standing, making the most of their confusion. Javier could have warned them but instead wanted to observe his enemy in combat, get the measure of him. The hooded figure was trained well in the defensive arts, that much was obvious by the way he handled himself. Deflecting punches with his forearms, kicking, throwing men onto the ground and winding them. One pulled a Browning pistol out of his holster and the hooded man spun around, grabbing the soldier's arm and bringing it down over one raised knee until the gun was relinquished. He fought as if he didn't care what happened to him, and yet at the same time Javier recognised some sort of survival instinct there. It was a curious and very dangerous combination.
By the time the smoke had cleared, Javier had brought his grenade launcher to bear again, letting off another incendiary in the hooded man's general direction. And, just as he hadn't anticipated what had happened with the traps, he didn't see what came next, either.
The hooded man cowered from the spreading fire.
Could it be that… Yes! He was actually afraid of the flames. Javier grinned. The hooded man held up his hand to protect his face, stumbling backwards, his mouth open in fear.
This wasn't any ordinary aversion, Javier could see that. Rather, it was as if the fire held some kind of special significance for him – some private terror that only he knew about.
It didn't matter. He'd burn the bastard to a crisp and take his remains back to De Falaise. Javier could imagine what the Frenchman might say: 'You have done well, Major. Pick a county and you will rule it as my deputy.' It was why all of them were with the man, wasn't it? Power? A chance to rule? Or maybe he should take the hooded man back to De Falaise alive so that he and Tanek could have some of their special brand of fun?
Javier had only let his mind wander for a moment or two, but it was enough for everything to change. Suddenly, out of nowhere, there were other people there. One of the rising soldiers was struck across the face by what Javier thought at first to be a piece of wood, a branch of some kind: another trap the hooded man had set? No… now he could see it was a walking stick, brandished by a squat, bald man, who was even now attacking again. He looked very familiar.
And who was that on the other side? Smaller than the rest, throwing stones at a couple of the other soldiers. A rock caught one man a glancing blow across the temple and he collapsed to his knees.
So he has friends, then? Javier mulled. As he suspected there was no way he'd been able to do all this on his own. No matter, I'll fry the lot of them. He brought up his weapon one final time, then felt something hard pressing into his cheek.
Javier's eyes swivelled left and down. They traced the end of the shotgun to another man. 'How do,' said the ruddy-faced man in the checked shirt and tank top. 'I'd be droppin' that about now if I were ye. We don't want no accidents, do we? Nice and slow.'
The Mexican began to lower his weapon, which the man with the shotgun took off him.
'When De Falaise learns of this, you will all be in big trouble,' grumbled Javier. Even to his ears, it sounded lame.
'That so?'
Javier nodded, but the ruddy-face man just laughed. The battle – the hunt – was over and they'd lost. Javier knew it, his enemies knew it. But the next thing he knew was blackness, as the man turned the gun around and hit him hard with the butt.
Once they'd dealt with the fires and tied up all prisoners left alive, the trio turned their attentions to Robert.
He had barely said a word; just sat propped up against a tree, eyes staring out from beneath his hood. They knew it had been the incendiary from Major Javier's weapon that had done this to him, but none of them knew why. None of them dared to ask. Instead, they discussed what should be done about De Falaise's men.
'I know what I'd like to do to that one,' said the Reverend Tate, leaning on his stick. He pointed across at Javier, still spark out and helpless as a baby. A complete reversal of the last time they'd met. 'He took a friend of mine away, killed another.'
Bill nodded. 'Aye. But could ye really do that? A man of God and all?'
'An eye for an eye, the Bible says.' But Tate conceded the point. 'All right, maybe just a bit of a pummelling, then.'
'I'm worried about Robert,' interrupted Mark. They both looked at the boy who'd brought them here today, who'd sent word that De Falaise's men were on their way to the forest and that Robert might need their assistance. In spite of the fact the man had turned his back on them earlier on that week, Bill knew that he owed him a debt. And when news reached Tate, even though he hadn't met the man, he came. Maybe it was partly for revenge – a concept he wasn't supposed to believe in – or was it something else? To meet the man who'd taken on De Falaise's troops at the market, the person that people in neighbouring villages and towns were already talking about. The Hooded Man. Someone they might be able rally behind? A figurehead?
A hero?
He didn't look like one at the moment.
'Perhaps I should talk with him?' offered Tate. 'I'm used to it after all. Giving counsel. I can be quite persuasive when I need to be.'
Mark and Bill both shrugged, then watched as the holy man walked over to the tree where Robert sat gazing at nothingness. They could just about hear the conversation between the two men, which was woefully one-sided to begin with. Tate introduced himself, explained what had happened in Hope, the things Javier and some of his men had done there, when all the community had really wanted was to start over again.
That had done the trick, woken Robert from his stupor. 'Start over? There is no starting over. No forgetting the past.'
Tate frowned. 'No one's suggesting we should forget what's gone before, my son. It's just that-'
'Don't you understand, there's no going back!'
'And where would you go, if you could?' asked Tate, resting on his stick. 'To somewhere before the virus, hmm? To save someone you loved? Is that why you're out here all alone?'
Robert's lips were a straight line.
Tate waved over his shoulder. 'And those people back there, Mark and Bill, do you not think they would give everything they have to turn back the clock? Don't you think they lost people they loved as well?'
'It's not the same,' Robert said. Then, more quietly: 'Not the same.'
'How can you say that? For each and every one of us, it's personal. I lost parishioners, people I cared about a great deal,' Tate continued. 'And for a time, the briefest of times, I almost lost my faith as well.'
'Faith,' huffed the man in the hood.
'That's right. Don't think I haven't questioned what all this was for, what it was about. But still I have to believe there's a purpose to it. That something good might come out of this yet.'
Robert looked up, the shadows disappearing from his eyes. 'What purpose, what good?'
Tate shook his head. 'I honestly don't know. But I do know one thing, if we stand by and let men like De Falaise have their way, then this world hasn't got a chance.'
'What exactly do you expect me to do about it?'
Tate leaned in further. 'I saw what you did back there, or at least some of it. And I heard about what you did at the market, the people you helped. In spite of what you might say, I know you care. Now, you have a choice. You can turn your back on them.' He looked over at Bill and Mark once more. 'Even though they came here today to warn you, to help you. You can turn your back on everything again, in fact, detach yourself from the hurt, from caring about anyone ever again. Or…' Tate paused. 'Or you can save them. You can lead them. You can stop De Falaise. Now, ask yourself what the people you lost would have wanted you to do.'
Robert didn't answer Tate, he just sat there deep in thought. Then he got up. Trying hard not to catch Mark
