imminent discovery managing what she'd been trying for hours to achieve — keeping the little brats quiet so she could think. She could see the pale faces of her guys at the doorways of the houses they'd taken shelter in, standing guard, waiting for her to make a move.
She gripped the gun tightly and ran to the pavement, pressing herself into the shadows and creeping forward so she could peer round the corner into the next road.
Her heart sank as she saw a pair of dual-cab pickups on the road, their roof-mounted spotlights picking out her four friends, who were down on their knees with their hands behind their backs. Each vehicle carried a team of four heavily armed men, three of whom were advancing with their guns trained on the captives. The road was wide and open, and the cars and kids were in the middle of a huge junction, providing almost no cover. She couldn't get close to them without being seen by the two men who were standing in the open backs of the vehicles, scanning the area for possible attack.
They were too far away for her to hear what the men said when they reached the four kneeling children, but she could tell they were shouting. Andrew was typically defiant and shouted back, which earned him a gun butt in the face and then, once he'd fallen over, a hard kick to the solar plexus.
Caroline clenched the gun tighter, so wanting to blow that fucker's head off but seeing no way to do so without leading them right to the children she was trying to protect. She was about to turn away when first one lookout then the other went rigid and dropped like stones off the sides of the vehicles on to the road. Caroline hadn't heard any shots. What the fuck had just happened?
The men interrogating her friends didn't seem to know either. At first they just looked confused. One of them walked to the nearest car to see what was going on. Just as he rounded the cab he dropped too, silent and instant. Caroline realised they were under attack, but she still had no idea by whom, or how. She was still too far away to approach unseen, even with this distraction. If she made a play, there was still a better than average chance that she'd be cut down. She bit her lip and, fighting down her instinctive desire to wade into the fight, waited to see how this would play out.
The engines of the vehicles revved as the two drivers indicated their desire to leave. The two men still in the open hesitated, unsure, and then ran — one to each cab. Neither of them made it. This time, as the second one fell, Caroline caught a glimpse of something sticking out of his chest. She couldn't be sure at this distance and in this light, but she thought maybe it was an arrow.
The drivers didn't wait another second. They screamed away at speed, racing to escape this silent attacker. One of them made it, but the other began swerving wildly from left to right before smashing straight through the frontage of an old pub, erupting into flames. The archer must have managed to shoot the driver through his windscreen while he was moving. Shit, this guy was good.
The other pickup squealed around a corner and vanished into the night as Caroline broke cover and ran to see how her four friends were doing. Andrew was sitting up, his face a mess of tears and snot. The other three were getting to their feet, mouths open. Caroline went and inspected one of the dead churchies. Sure enough when she rolled him over there was a thin wooden arrow buried deep in his chest. It had been painted black.
'That's mine,' said a deep voice behind her and she spun, instinctively raising her weapon as she did so.
Since there were no streetlights, there were few shadows for the archer to step out of. He just sort of materialised out of the darkness. Dressed head to toe in dark green, he held a wooden bow in his right hand. A quiver of arrows stuck up over his left shoulder.
'The beauty of arrows, you see, is that they're recyclable. Shoot a bullet or a cartridge, like the one that shotgun of yours fires, and it's gone forever. But an arrow…' He stepped past her, reached down and yanked the wooden shaft from the dead man's chest. It came out with a soft squelch. 'That can be used again.'
'Who are you?' asked Melissa, who was now standing behind Caroline.
'My name's Ferguson,' said the archer in a thick Irish accent as he wiped his arrow clean on the dead man's jacket. He stood up and slotted it back into his quiver, ready for another day. 'I'm a Ranger.' He seemed surprised that this pronouncement was greeted with silence. 'From Nottingham,' he added. And then: 'I'm with Hood.'
He stared at their blank faces, waiting for the spark of recognition. Nothing.
'I can see we need a better publicist,' he said, smiling.
'Thank you,' said Andrew, now on his feet.
'You're welcome. You know what would be a good way to thank me? Getting this young lady to stop pointing a shotgun at me.'
Everyone stared at Caroline, who held her gun steady. 'Hood?' she said. 'Robin Hood in Nottingham?' The sarcasm dripped like honey.
'The very same,' said the archer.
'Right. And you're, what, one of his Merry Men?'
The archer shook his head 'No. I'm one of the Sullen Men. The Merry Men are, you know, merrier than me. They crack more jokes.'
Caroline could see her friends smiling, but she didn't follow suit. 'Why should I trust you?'
The archer allowed indicated the dead bodies of the churchies that littered the crossroads, the look on his face saying 'you want more proof?'
'Bit convenient, though, isn't it? You just turning up like this, just in time to rescue us from the bad guys. Almost like it was staged.'
'Caroline, seriously?' said Luke.
'Think about it, Luke. Perfect way to gain our trust. What if Matron didn't tell them where the school is? This would be a perfect way to infiltrate us and get us to lead them straight there. They've already tried it once, remember.'
'He killed them, Caroline,' said Melissa.
'Yeah, and wasn't that easy?'
'You think they let him?' Andrew's tone of voice betrayed the incredulity he and all his friends were feeling. Caroline didn't understand why they couldn't see it.
'They're fucking churchies, guys,' she said. 'Probably think they're martyrs, seventy eight virgins waiting for them or something.' She glanced at their shocked faces. 'What, you doubt my judgment now, after everything we've been through? Don't you see this is what he wants? Turn you against me, let you lead him to the school and then it'll be a fucking army of snatchers turning up at to carry us off. We should just kill him and move on.'
Luke stepped forward and gently laid his hand on the barrel of her shotgun. 'Too paranoid, Caroline. I don't buy it.'
The archer wisely stayed silent, watching Caroline closely, waiting to see how this would play out.
Caroline clenched her jaw. She could just pull the trigger, finish this guy regardless. It was the safe thing to do. It was necessary, she knew that. Why couldn't the others see it? Once he was dead they'd fall into line, they'd have no choice. Who else was going to shepherd them to safety? They'd realise eventually that she was right. She squeezed the trigger gently.
'No!' shouted Luke, pushing the barrel down as the gun went off. The cloud of lead pellets embedded itself in tarmac. The archer didn't even flinch.
Caroline spun fast, dropping the gun and drawing a knife from her belt as she did so. The blade was at Luke's throat before he could step backwards.
They stood there, frozen, for a long moment. Luke was scared but defiant, sticking his chest out and staring Caroline down. Eventually she withdrew the knife and resheathed it.
'Traitor,' she spat. Then she turned on her heels and stalked off into the darkness, away from her friends and the children who were beginning to emerge from hiding to see what was going on.
She needed to be alone.
Ferguson found her an hour later.
The shop downstairs had been looted clean, but the flat above it, although long abandoned, still had some stuff lying around that no-one had bothered to cart off. She lay on the double bed, ignoring the smell of mould, and took another swig from the bottle of whisky she'd found down the back of the sofa.
She disregarded the soft knock at the front door. It was open anyway, and she knew it would just be one of her friends come to coax her back. She already knew she was going to relent, but she allowed herself the luxury of sulking there in the darkness, knowing that she was being self indulgent but needing to be persuaded, needing
