34

  Darkness had swept over Valderia, and with it came the thunderstorm. Rain sprinkled at first, accompanied by the ominous booming of thunder, before becoming a steady sheet of rain. The distant horizon was lit by forks of lightning lancing across the thick clouds. Cameron’s warehouse had gone dark. The gates were sealed shut. The windows were blacked out. Men stood on patrol at every corner and entrance, gripping weapons and peering into the darkness.

  “We’re definitely gonna die now.”

  “We’re not going to die.”

  “No, you’re right, we’re going to be killed.”

  “That’s the same thing.”

  “No, dying sounds alright next to being beaten to death and hung from the ceiling.”

  “Why would they beat us to death and then hang us from the ceiling?”

  “Coz they’re sickos.”

  “We’re fine.”

  “We are not fine.”

  “We’re okay.”

  “We’re fucked.”

  "No, we’re not.”

  “No… you’re right, you’re fucked.”

  “Me?”

  “This was your idea.”

  “This was Conway’s orders.”

  “Conway told us to hang about as long as we could.”

  “And that’s what we’re doing.”

  “We’re hiding in a pile of bloody broken timber, in a warehouse full of gangsters, in the dead of night, and there's a storm coming in! And my ass has fallen asleep! And I’m soakin’ wet! And I’m starvin’!”

  “I could eat,” Timmy conceded.

  “You won’t ‘ave to worry about that when we’re dead!”

  “Shh! Keep your voice down!”

  Wally grumbled and then hunched inwards, hugging his arms around his chest and drawing his knees up to his narrow chest.

  “This was such a stupid plan,” Wally muttered into his kneecaps.

  Timmy had to agree, it wasn’t his finest idea. They had hung around as long as they could, and in that time they were certain something was happening tonight. As the day drew to a close, more armed thugs arrived, and there was a lot of activity on the dilapidated dock at the back of the warehouse. It was being cleaned and prepped for an arrival. They overheard snippets of orders being barked, and it sounded like they needed everything in place for tonight.

  When the workers were finally told to leave for the day, evening had barely begun. Timmy knew they couldn’t leave. The place was too heavily fortified, and there were too many guards for the police to simply barge in and arrest everyone. They needed an inside man. So when the opportunity arose, in a moment of what he thought was inspirational brilliance, Timmy grabbed Wally, and they dove into the pile of disused timber, worming their way into a little hollow they could hide and watch from. That had been almost four hours ago. The sun had set, more goons had arrived, and now the rain had started again. They were cold, miserable, hungry, and stuck with so many splinters Timmy thought his arse must resemble an indecisive porcupine at this point. So they sat and waited, watching the guards and staring at the little scrap of Comm roll Conway had given them. He was giving them routine updates of the police’s movements outside the warehouse, but it sounded like they didn’t have enough men, and they were moving slowly to get into position.

  “‘Ow much longer do we ‘ave to be ‘ere?” Wally moaned, wiping his snotty nose on his sleeve.

  “Until the shipment comes in,” Timmy said, shifting from one numb butt cheek to the other.

  “That could be hours still! What time is it anyway?”

  “I don’t know… hold on, Conway's sent a message!”

  They hunched around the paper, trying to keep the steady drip of rainwater off of it.

  Movement at the gate. Confirm if it is CH.

  “CH?” Wally said. “What’s that?”

  “Cameron Haney,” Timmy said.

  He shifted so he could peer through their peephole in the pile of broken timber. He could just about see the front of the yard. There was a flurry of activity as the gate was rolled back and several armed men stood to either side of it, weapons ready. A young man swanned through in a long, camel coloured coat with fur at the neck. A guard followed him, holding an umbrella up so the man could stay dry. He snapped a few orders that Timmy couldn’t hear over the rain.

  “Get that damn gate closed!” he heard the man shout as he got closer. “I want two of you out here by the gate, the rest of you inside and at the dock. Boat’s coming in in five minutes! I want it unloaded in two! You hear me? Now move!”

  “That’s gotta be Cameron, right?” Wally said.

  “Has to be,” Timmy agreed, scrawling a confirmation message back to Conway. “And he said the boat’s coming in five minutes!”

  Confirm it is CH. Boat is coming in five minutes.

  The guards followed Cameron into the warehouse, leaving only two posted at the main gate. Timmy looked down at Conway’s response.

  Not enough time. The battering ram hasn’t arrived. Can you get the gate open?

  “Get the gate open!” Wally moaned. “‘Ow are we gonna do that?”

  “The battering ram hasn’t arrived,” Timmy said. “They won’t be able to breach the gate without force.”

  “We ain’t got a battering ram! What can we do?”

  “We can open it from the inside.”

  “Wot?”

  “We just have to take out those two guards and get the gate unlocked. Then the boys can come in.”

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  “Tim, that’s suicide!” Wally hissed at him. “They got weapons and there’s loads more of ‘em inside the warehouse! If they make any noise we’re…”

  “Gonna be killed and hung from the ceiling, I know.” Timmy said, chewing his lip. He didn’t like it anymore than Wally did, but what else could they do? “If we don’t get that gate open, our boys are going to be sitting ducks for those thugs with the crossbows.”

  Another message came in from Conway.

  Boat patrol is ready and waiting. Gate needs to be open for the raid team. Can you open it?

  Timmy clenched his jaw and then wrote back:

  Affirmative. Gate will be open. Watch for our signal.

  “Tim!” Wally moaned. “Why you gonna tell him that?”

  “Because… we’re going to get that gate open!”

  “We’re so dead,” Wally groaned.

  “Come on,” Timmy said, his heart fluttering in his chest. “We just gotta take out two guards. That’s not so hard right? Just bonk ‘em on the head. You’re good at that.”

  “I am,” Wally conceded.

  "And there's only two of them and two of us, and we've got the advantage," Timmy said, feigning confidence.

  "Wot advantage?" Wally said.

  "We know they're there, but they don't know we are," Timmy said.

  Wally looked at him sceptically before sighing and searching around for a suitable length of wood. They armed themselves with some shards of wood that looked hefty enough to do some damage and wormed their way out of the pile of timber. Fortunately, Cameron had insisted on there being no lights outside the warehouse, so it was almost completely dark. The rain was heavy enough now to mask any noise, and the guards were facing outward, peering into the street while trying to keep the rain out of their eyes. They were a right pair of guerillas. Tall, broad shouldered, baldheaded, and armed with one shots and sabres. Timmy had watched them while they were hidden in the timber, and they didn’t seem like normal lackadaisical thugs. These two were trained and took their jobs seriously. Even worse, they were standing on either side of the twelve foot gate, which meant that taking down both of them at the same time would be nearly impossible without either Timmy or Wally sneaking across the open ground in front of the warehouse.

  “The one on the right, closest to us, has the key to the gate,” Timmy said, not needing to whisper due to the thundering rain.

  Wally looked up just as another boom of thunder drowned out the world, and then a flash of lightning lit up the sky. Timmy looked down at the Comm scroll and saw another message.

  We’re in position. Gate needs to be opened.

  “We need to get both of them at the same time,” Timmy said. “If we take out only one, the other one might sound the alarm. One of us is going to have to sneak across to the other side of the yard.”

  Wally looked at Timmy. There was nothing sneaky about Timmy. With a sigh he nodded.

  “I can get across,” he said.

  “Good luck,” Timmy said to him, slapping him on the back.

  Bent over double, Wally scuttled around the pile of timber until he was hugging the wall of the warehouse. Timmy looked back at the guards, and they were still watching the street. He looked back and saw that Wally was poking his head out behind the piles of discarded materials, steeling himself to pop out into the open. There was another boom of thunder and that seemed to startle Wally into a run. His long limbs flitted across the warehouse door, like the shadow of a scarecrow. Timmy’s heart was in his throat. There was another flash of lightning and it lit up the yard. Wally was only halfway across when the lightning flashed. He froze like a mouse halfway across the kitchen floor. Throwing caution to the wind, he straightened up and sprinted the final yards to the other side of the warehouse, diving into cover behind a pile of rusted metal.

  The yard went dark again. Timmy couldn’t barely breathe. He felt dizzy with fear. After a few seconds of peering into the darkness, he saw the shadow of Wally creeping out behind the pile of metal and creeping along the outer wall. Timmy took a deep breath and steeled himself. His approach would be just as perilous. There was nothing but open ground between him and the guard. It was dark, but not dark enough that he wouldn’t be seen if one of the guards turned around. He had to start moving. Wally was getting closer. His legs felt like jelly. Rain, or perhaps tears of fright, blurred his vision as he crept out from his hiding place. Together, they closed in on the two guards. Thunder roared again, followed by the treacherous flash of lightning. Wally had made it the corner of his wall. He was only feet from the guard. Timmy was out in the open when the lightning flashed. He froze and watched the guards, his heart hammering so hard in his chest it hurt. The yard went dark again. Timmy willed his legs to keep moving. The lump of wood in his hands felt too heavy and his hands shook so badly he thought he was going to drop it. He was within spitting distance of the guard now. He raised his stick.

  BOOM!

  Thunder roared and then lightning crackled across the sky. The guard turned around.

  Timmy froze.

  “What the…” guard said, his eyes widening.

  “Ahhh!” There was a strangled cry from behind him.

  The guard turned for a second. Timmy leapt and swung as hard as he could. The guard threw up his arm and caught the majority of the blow on his forearm, the club only glancing across his forehead. He stumbled back, losing his footing in the muddy yard. Timmy swung again but missed, his club bouncing off the chainlink of the gate. He saw Wally grappling with his guard out of the corner of his eye. Timmy slipped in the mud and was kicked hard in the thigh by his opponent. His foot went out from under him and the guard was on his feet in an instant. He lifted his oneshot and clicked the crossbow’s trigger. Timmy screwed his eyes shut and tried lift a hand to protect himself. There was a twang but no pain. Timmy opened his eyes and saw the guard throw the misfired oneshot to the side. He reached instead for the sabre at his waist. Timmy leapt up and grabbed his hand. The guard stumbled back against the gate under Timmy’s bulk. They grappled for the blade and then the guard opened his mouth. He took a deep breath to shout, and in desperation, Timmy jammed his hand in the man’s mouth. The cry was muffled, and the man gagged, his eyes bulging. He let go of the sabre and grabbed Timmy’s wrist, yanking his hand out of his mouth. He tried to shout again but only managed to choke out a strangled cry. Timmy headbutted the man in the sternum, winding him and knocking them both into the mud. Timmy scrambled, half blind with the rain and mud. The guard’s knee slammed into his nose, filling his eyes with tears and almost knocking him senseless. The man tried to pull himself to his feet and slipped on the churned up mud. Lightning flashed again, and Timmy saw the gleam of his blade in the guard's hand. He threw himself back as the blade swished through the air a finger’s length from his nose. The man lunged again, but it was a poor strike, and he slipped to one knee. He grabbed the fence with his free hand and started pulling himself upright. He opened his mouth to shout again. Timmy grabbed a handful of mud and hurled it at him. The ball of mud splattered into the guard's face, mouth, and eyes. He gargled and cried out. Timmy felt his club in the mud next to him. He rose from up, looking like some sort of swamp monster, and brought the club down on the man’s head. There was a crack and the guard dropped to his knees. Timmy raised the club again, but the man flopped completely senseless, face first into the mud.

  Timmy, gasping for air, turned to see Wally and his guard locked in a muddy brawl. They were rolling around, kicking, punching, headbutting, and biting each other. Wally wasn’t strong, but he was wiry and had a grip like a feral dog on a bone. The guard was desperately flailing and rolling trying to get Wally off of him. Timmy lumbered over, raised his club in his shaking hands, and brought it down on the guard. He hit him with a savage blow to the ribs that knocked the wind out of him. The next blow knocked the sense out of him. The third was just for good measure. Timmy dropped the club and reached out a hand to pull Wally up. They both stood, bent over, hands on knees, sucking wind and shaking. Timmy wiped a hand across his bleeding nose and spat blood from his mouth.

  “You alright?” Wally gasped.

  Timmy nodded and spat again.

  “You?”

  “Yeah… I think so. He cut me though.” Wally straightened up and showed Timmy the bright red slash across his side. “It ain’t too bad though, I don’t think. Did you get the key?”

  Timmy shook his head. He took Wally under one arm, and they hobbled back over to Timmy’s guard. Timmy rifled in his pockets, found the key, and then fumbled with the heavy padlock. It was so dark, and the rain was making it hard to grip anything. Finally, he managed to get the key in and turn the lock. The padlock fell into the mud. Together, they heaved at the gate, pushing it back enough for Wally to slip through. He stood in the street and waved his arms. After a few seconds, two dozen riot gear officers melted out from the shadows and began running across the street. They heaved the gate open and charged across the muddy yard into the warehouse. Conway ran up behind them and stopped when he saw Wally.

  “You okay, lad?” he said, grabbing the wobbly Corporal under the arm before he saw the blood seeping through his shirt. “Shit! It’s alright, lad. You just sit here. Where’s Edgewater?”

  “I’m here sir,” Timmy said, stumbling around the gate, his nose dripping blood.

  “Good lad. Take a seat here. Keep pressure on his wound. We’ll get you two patched up. You done good work, lads.”

  Conway nodded to them and then charged into the warehouse, where it sounded like there was mayhem going down.

  “You alright?” Timmy asked Wally as he sank down next to him.

  “Well… I don’t think we’re dead, so it went better than expected,” Wally said, chuckling dryly as the rain poured down on them.

  “And we weren’t hung from the ceiling,” Timmy added.

  “Another successful undercover mission?” Wally said.

  “We’re getting good at this,” Timmy agreed, laying his head back against the gate and watching lightning fork across the sky.