When we were finally packed I heaved the load onto my back and swayed slightly under the strain. Emily came over and tightened the straps around my waist, and I was uncomfortably aware of her closeness as her head almost rested against my chest.
She straightened before I could pluck up the courage to do anything, another moment lost as she shouldered her own pack and led me towards the back of the store. I still held the shotgun, but for some reason it felt more natural now I was dressed like a soldier, even if I thought I did make a poor one.
The rear of the shop did indeed have a back door, the rusted bolts showing how little used it was. Emily cleared the small alleyway behind with a quick glance, then motioned me to follow and we slipped into a passage that was barely wide enough for my shoulders, the side pockets of my pack scraping against brick on both sides.
The alley led us out into a street that was at a right angle to the front of the shop, and Emily briefly pulled out her new compass to make sure of her bearings before leading me on through Maidenhead towards the M40.
My mind kept going back to that moment in the shop, trying to read her expression in retrospect and making sure that I hadn’t misread the situation. How many other options could there be? She had clearly been offering something more than just friendship, but why then, why not in the tent the night before?
I would be the first to admit that I’m no expert when it comes to women. Since Angie I’d had a couple of drunken encounters at parties, but otherwise I’d avoided the traps and pitfalls of a relationship, choosing instead to concentrate all my energy on the split between work and Melody. It had seemed safer, and I hadn’t wanted Melody to feel even the slightest bit awkward about visiting whenever we could find the time, so I had kept the house a woman-free zone.
And so I agonised about what had happened in the shop, almost convincing myself that I’d been mistaken, or that she was just teasing me or making a joke. Almost, that is, except for the look in her eyes when they met mine, half challenge, half need.
I was so caught up in my thoughts, in fact, that when I heard a scraping noise from an alleyway between two houses I barely looked up, thinking that it must be a cat searching for food or perhaps a bold fox.
That lack of awareness almost proved my undoing. I’d drawn parallel to the alley, Emily a few metres ahead, and as I looked into the dim passage I caught a hint of movement that rapidly turned into the figure of a man, crouched behind some bins but now on his feet and launching himself at me, hands already reaching out to grapple.
I backpedalled rapidly, stumbling away from him as I opened my mouth to shout a warning to Emily, but as I glanced in her direction I saw her already struggling with two other men as she tried to keep them off and draw her pistol at the same time.
My own attacker tore out of the alley in a blur of motion, his weight striking me in the chest as he bore me to the ground, trapping the shotgun between us. I kept hold of it, battling to pull the ungainly weapon free, but the man simply used his weight to keep it wedged and began punching me in the face with one fist while the other hand rested on the ground to give him leverage.
The pain was incredible. I’d never realised just how much one bony body-part striking another could hurt. I screamed as his fist connected with my nose, feeling hot blood spurt, but before I could recover he struck me again, this time finding my eye and digging his knuckles in so far that I thought my eyeball would pop.
“Help!” I screamed, twisting and turning my head to avoid the blows, but as I looked in Emily’s direction I saw that she was already being held down by her two opponents, one of them kneeling on her arms with her own pistol pointed at her head while the other tried to rip her trousers off, getting kicked for the trouble but ignoring the blows as if they were nothing.
I realised then what was going to happen. Emily would be raped, I would be killed and then if she was lucky so would she. Then these men would go through our things and take what they liked, and I would never reach Melody.
Something inside me snapped. That’s the only way I can describe it as my hands came free of the shotgun, my left grabbing the man’s throat and squeezing while the right dropped to my waist and found the knife there.
It was as if I’d spent my entire life wearing a set of chains around my morals, my values, maybe even my whole mind, but now they dropped away and I watched with cool detachment as I pulled the knife free and sheathed it again, this time in my opponents ribs.
His scream was a choked-off wheeze, my other hand still around his throat as I pulled the knife out and stuck it in again, climbing a rib each time to make sure that I did the job properly.
At the third strike he coughed blood into my face, my nose, my open mouth but I kept going, five, six, seven, and suddenly he went limp, his body a dead weight that I kicked off, rolling myself to my feet Burgen and all without a thought.
I picked up the shotgun, flicked the safety off and walked up behind the man with the pistol. As I raised the barrels his companion looked up from fighting to remove Emily’s underwear, shock and fear making his eyes bulge.
I barely heard the roar as I pulled the trigger, both barrels cutting the kneeling man nearly in half, the pistol flying from nerveless fingers as blood soaked his companion.
Forgetting his intended rape the third man stood, both hands out in front of him.
“No, no, please. We didn’t mean nothing by it, please!” He began to back away as I broke the barrels on the shotgun, the spent casings flying out. Had he charged at me then he might have lived, but instead he continued to stumble backwards, too scared to turn his back and run.
I reached up to my webbing and pulled two more shells free, slotting them into the breech, the clicked it shut and raised the weapon to my shoulder.
A hundred words came to mind, sayings that I’d heard and collected over the years, or perhaps a recounting of this man’s misdeeds in the few minutes since I’d met him, but in the end all of those words were worthless, less than ash on the wind.
Instead I let the shotgun speak for me, the trigger light against my finger as I fired both barrels again.
The man screamed and flung up his hands but too late, the body completing the motion even after the brain had died as two barrels-worth of shot drove through his skull from close range, erasing his face from everything except my memory.
I opened the breech again and reloaded, only then looking down at Emily, who still lay in the road with her trousers around her knees and several angry looking red scratches on her thighs.
Her face was what drew me, however. Her eyes were huge, and as she stared up at me it almost seemed that she didn’t recognise who I was.
“Are you ok?” She asked quietly, sitting up awkwardly, Burgen still strapped to her back as she wriggled her trousers back up.
I shook my head and tried to speak, but the shaking wouldn’t stop, going from my head to my arms, down to my knees until I couldn’t stand, collapsing on the road as my whole body shuddered.
Despite her own ordeal, Emily dropped her pack and put her arms around me, holding me close and rocking me gently as sobs poured out of me uncontrollably. Whether they were for the lives I’d just taken, or the loss of something in my own soul I couldn’t tell. Because, despite everything I’d ever believed about violence not being the answer, god help me if some long-denied part of me hadn’t enjoyed killing those men.
Chapter 30
“Who do you think they were?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
We’d walked in silence and were now reaching the far edge of Maidenhead, having stopped only to collect the pistol before leaving the twisted, mangled bodies lying in the street where they’d fallen.