Phosphenes

Phosephenes

By

Mark Stone

First published 2009

La Croix Enterprises

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © Mark Stone 2009

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyrights reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold hired out or otherwise circulated without the publishers prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 978-0-473-16052-4

*

To Louize,

for letting me be part of the ride

*

****

Chapter 1

****

Bill Eaton looked up from his lunch as a small red light blinked on in the lounge of the family cottage. At the same instant an innocuous chime sounded and four plasma screens deftly tucked away in the house lit up to show a TNT courier walking up the pathway to the house.

Bill had fitted the security system in the house shortly after they had moved in about four years ago. His wife Sharron and son Kent had moved from Australia to the little town of Westminster to take up teaching jobs in the nearby schools and had soon made friends with many of the locals.

At the sight of the high-tech security system being installed many in the community had talked about those strange Aussies and put it down to them being from another country, another culture. Those few friends that were very close to them knew that not to be the case and that this security system was in fact to protect them from some unseen terror that they fled from once before.

It was autumn in Westminster, the trees surrounding the small cottages were bathed in delightful colors of orange, brown and red and like may cottages theirs was picture perfect. A white picket fence marked the boundary to the small grounds, a bed of red and yellow roses ran alongside the rough cobblestone pathway leading any visitor on a small colorful journey to the front porch where hanging baskets adorned the eves.

The cottage was bright white with window sills and ledges a deep red, almost burgundy, and it had a small dark brick chimney protruding from the roof. The rear of the house opened to a long well groomed grassy backyard section which flowed down to a hedge bordering a small backstreet where most of the residents parked Range Rovers or similar large opulent 4x4’s. It was not a expensive area they lived in, rather one where those with money chose to live in well established communities for the social lifestyle it provided them.

Bill studied the display for about a second as the camera kept focus on the moving subject. He noted the courier, the welcoming smile and the small box being carried. About a second later the front door burst open spraying splinters of wood into the hallway. Bill dropped his plate of food and dived over the couch with surprising swiftness reaching under the large oak lined furniture as he rolled onto his back. Sharron darted into action as well, dragging their son from his seat and heading for the back door. She turned to see her husband crouched behind the couch just as he flinched, the first bullet drove straight through the furniture and into his chest, He sat back, then instinct took charge and the gun he rescued from under the couch spat back in the direction of the door where two men, one in a TNT uniform, the other in a plain blue running suit fired from either side of the door.

Bill yelled run just before a second bullet distorted his face, slamming into his head, his body lurched and his trigger finger depressed sending bullets spraying the room for a fleeting moment. Before his body had hit the ground Sharron was out the back door, dipping her hand into a bucket of old dirty water she retrieved a plastic bag ripped it open and in full flight with her son in tow she turned to fire at the house, looking for an enemy amongst the small vegetable garden and normally beckoning back door.

The TNT man dived through the door and rolled to the side, firing off a round as he did so. Sharron predicted his move and leveled three fast shots at the man ensuring he stayed on the ground writhing for a few seconds in pain. From the doorway two more shots whizzed past her and she ran backwards dragging Kent with her. They were halfway to the end of the property, to the sanctuary afforded them by the backstreet, where the car was parked and where a large hedge would conceal their escape.

The security failsafe tripped and Sharron and Kent were thrown to the ground as the house exploded shredding the second shooters body as wood and glass seemed to blossom out of the house. Sharron held Kent to the ground for what seemed an eternity as they waited for most of the debris to fall to the floor. They struggled up, turned and ran toward the hedge each desperately clutching the other. Suddenly two men appeared at the hedge, coming from the backstreet they had effectively cut off her path. At the same time foreign voices were yelling from behind her. She glanced back to see two more men, coming around the now blazing house guns leveled at her. They were shouting at her, now in English, to drop her gun. Sharron dropped to the ground covering her son with her body and fired off two rounds at the men near the house, the two behind her were pulling guns from jackets and each took aim at her as they ran towards her looking for a clear shot, they needed the boy, he was the goal.

A split second later the first attacker from behind her fell to the ground and the second looked in amazement, his face covered with blood. His partners head had blown apart as a slug from another gun had run clear through it. He stumbled, and then grabbed his neck as he realized he too had been hit by the same shot. Running in parallel it had taken one shot at short range from a powerful gun to take out both men.

Sharron rolled quickly, firing a shot at the men advancing on her from the house. She heard another shot from behind her and she glanced back to see a tall dark woman appear from the side hedge, aim past Sharron, and fire at her attackers. Sharron recognized her immediately Selena she mouthed as she dragged Kent to his feet. Selena had a weapon in each hand, both looked massive in her small hands but she handled them with ease.

Running toward her the tall women threw down enough cover fire to cause a small army to retreat. As they passed her she barked Porsche and they dived behind the hedge.

They ran into the lane and scrambled into a Porsche Cayenne that stood with all doors open. Sharron pushed Kent onto the back seat.

Lay down she urged.

Sharron fired up the engine and watched the back entrance to the property to see Selena sprint around the hedge and dive head first into the back of the 4x4. Sharron stood on the gas and the Porsche lurched forward, dirt spitting from the wheels initially until the traction control took over and it shot down the small lane, engine bellowing in frustration. Selena climbed over into the back seat and barked out quick instructions to Sharron in broken English

Left onto A, go north, drive at limit, OK!

Sharron obeyed slowing her speed instantly and taking note of the route given, she knew they would be coming after her, but she trusted this woman implicitly. The tall foreigner had been the first one to talk to them about the nature of her son Kent.

In the rear vision mirror she saw two vehicles come around the corner about a hundred meters behind them, moving fast. One was a blue Range Rover, the other a large Ford Transit van.

Selena she blurted out, we have company.

Selena moved quickly, opening a silver case, retrieving a handful of small shiny spheres she opened the door and leaned out of the vehicle as they approached the next corner. Selena dropped about a dozen of the spheres under the Porsche between the rear wheels.

She watched as they rolled down the road slowly. Three of the spheres suddenly burst billowing dark red smoke out of them and in a matter of seconds they covered the road limiting the visibility. Shortly after the remaining spheres exploded loudly sending dirt and old broken bricks from the road in every direction, leaving craters around a foot deep and wide in the lane.

Both pursuing vehicles failed to take the corner. The Range Rover fired straight through the smoke, bounced precariously as it hit one of the holes, teetered to the right before its front right wheel slammed into another hole and the large 4x4 rolled onto its side and slid through a perfect white picket fence onto a perfectly manicured lawn. The van braked hard at the smoke and slid through the red mist before slamming into one of the craters bursting a wheel. The vehicle slewed violently to one side before coming to a complete stop.

Sharron continued to drive cautiously as they picked up speed, now on the motorway on-ramp, heading for safety. A tear slid from the side of her eye and rolled down her face slowly, painting a smooth path for others to follow. She brushed it away, determined not to grieve yet, soon though, soon.

Ten years later Selena succumbed to a bullet as she threw herself in front of a shot bound for Kent. Well armed petty thieves had tried to carjack the trio while traveling through South Africa and