tli_productions | Fic: If the Present Is Killed (3/3)

Header information and notes contained in Part 1.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

3

“Danny?” Connor says excitedly. “Our Danny?”

“It... looks like it,” Jess replies. There's a brief pause. “Detective Constable Danny Quinn, recently reinstated into the London Metropolitan Police following... a sabbatical. The booking's primarily in his name.”

“If it's the same person that should make our jobs a lot easier,” Matt says. There are murmurs of assent over the radio.

Becker is inclined to agree with them, but something in his expression has to have given him away because Matt eyeballs him. “Was there anything from his last mission that didn't make it into the official reports?” he asks pointedly.

Becker hesitates.

An arm grabbed Becker's shoulder and spun him around. Danny, blood-streaked and breathing heavily, didn't loosen his grip. “We can't do anything for her. Now come on!”

'Her' was Sarah – what was left of her. The decades old landmine had propelled her face first into a nest of over sized and ill-proportioned maggots; they'd made short work of the flesh that hadn't been burned.

“Becker!” Danny shouted. “We have to leave. Now!”

“Becker?” Matt asks, stepping closer.

“I -” Becker closes his eyes and tries not to vomit. “No. Nothing was omitted from the reports. Not a damn thing.”

He pushes past Matt and heads for the staircase up to the ground floor, not bothering to check if he's being followed. “We need to make sure there was no creature incursion.”

o o o o o

An alarm sounds, reverberating around Stephen's lab. He instinctively drops to a crouch, papers scattering around him, and covers his head before he remembers where he is. He takes several deep breaths, then grabs the black box and earpiece from the table and runs to the control room.

At the far end, Jess is focused on the computers and a military team is partially geared up.

Stephen jogs the last few yards to reach Jess' chair. “Anomaly alert?”

“I -” Jess blinks at him a couple of times. “Yes. Are you -”

Stephen look at the military team. He recognises two of them from the old ARC, and one of them – Sergeant... Obaid, he thinks dimly – nods once at him.

“Yes,” Stephen says. Anything for the cause.

He'd told Jenny that, the day after they'd met. The memory is surprisingly clear in his mind.

Obaid steps forward. “You're not weapons certified, sir,” he says, motioning to the EMDs he and his team are carrying.

Stephen shakes his head. “Not a problem.”

Obaid nods. “Co-ordinates?”

Jess' hands fly over two keyboards. “Ealing. Sending GPS to -”

“An alleyway,” Stephen says. “Between an empty shop front and a private car park.”

“I... yes.” Jess turns to look at him. “How did you know that?”

“It's a recurring anomaly; leads to an uninhabited tundra.” Stephen shrugs. “It's on Cutter's map.”

Obaid considers this. “Let's move out. See if you're right. Car park's this way.”

Stephen nods, and starts to follow them.

“Wait.”

It's Emily. Everyone turns around.

She looks almost inconspicuous in boots, borrowed jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. She's also unfazed at being the centre of attention, stepping forward into the middle of the room. “I want to come.”

Obaid shakes his head. “Sorry, ma'am, I can't -”

“I want to help,” Emily insists. “I can help.”

Stephen glances at Lester's office. It's empty; he must have appointments elsewhere this morning.

“She's right,” Stephen tells the sergeant. “She has more practical experience with the anomalies than most people here. Besides, how are you going to know if you can trust her if you don't give her a chance?”

That had been Connor's argument, according to Hilary, for making Stephen team leader after Jenny had turned it down.

Obaid's face is impassive. “I'm going to clear this with the boss.”

“We need to move out,” Stephen counters. To Emily: “Come on.”

She looks between Stephen and the military team a few times, then walks over to join them. “Thank you,” she says, low and serious.

Stephen shakes his head slightly. They're not clear yet.

“You're still here,” Jess points out, gesturing to the ADD behind her with a bar of chocolate. She breaks a piece off and eats it, not taking her eyes off the scene in front of her.

Obaid sighs. “Come on.”

o o o o o

Connor and Abby take the north wing of the house, checking each room as they go. The fourth door opens to reveal an ornate four-poster bed and a folding screen with a fancy looking tuxedo hung on the centre panel. Connor lets out a low whistle.

“We should get married in a place like this.”

Abby side eyes him.

“What?” Connor asks. “This place is awesome. Looks pretty, if you like that sort of thing, high ceilings – imagine the re-enactments you could do in the -”

“Conn, try asking first,” Abby tells him, but there's a tiny smile in her eyes, so Connor hasn't completely screwed that one up.

He grins. “Whoever Danny's marrying is one lucky lady, that's all I'm -”

Something behind him thumps. He turns around, raising his gun, and Abby steps up beside him. Connor steps into the room, suddenly doubting he'd heard anything at all when -

Thump.

Connor glances at Abby; she nods. She heard it too. It's real.

Connor's relieved in a way, but nervous now. He checks his radio is working. “Guys. Might have something in the north wing -”

“Ground floor, second door on the right past the spiral staircase,” Abby adds, nodding reassuringly at Connor.

“On our way,” someone responds.

Thump.

There it is again. Connor takes another step forward, which brings another door into view from behind the folding screen. He glances to Abby, who crosses the room and together they sneak up on the door. Whatever's behind it thumps a few more times.

Connor reaches for the door handle, but looks to Abby first. She nods, and he slowly grasps the handle, turns it, and opens the door.

Abby aims her gun, then stops. “Hey – are you okay?”

Frowning, Connor peeks around the door frame. There's a small cupboard on the other side of the door, filled with laundry type things – and a half naked man tied up and gagged on the floor. His feet are bound in front of him – must have been kicking the door, Connor thinks slowly.

Abby kneels down and takes the gag out of the man's mouth. “Are you okay?” she asks again.

The man swallows a few times and pulls a face. “Think so.”

“What happened to you?” Connor asks. He gets two identical glares and winces. “Sorry, genuine question though.”

The man shakes his head. “Don't know. I got here early to sort out flowers for the reception, came in here to hang the tux up and – that's it, nothing. My clothes are missing.”

Connor wants to ask if he saw any animals about, then realises a creature wouldn't be able to tie a man up and stuff him in a cupboard.

“Well, we'll get you out of here.” Abby reaches for where she'd kept her knife for months before realising she doesn't carry one any more.

“Here you go, ma'am.” An arm snakes past Connor and hands Abby a Swiss Army knife, which she uses to cut through the man's bonds.

“Thanks,” Connor tells the soldier on Abby's behalf. “Definitely not a creature.”

The soldier – Emerson, maybe? – shakes her head. “Everywhere else seems to be clear. Boss wants everyone back to the... rendezvous point,” she says quickly when she realises the man is watching and listening intently.

“Hey,” the man says. “Someone attacked me and took my clothes, okay? I mean, what else could it be?”

Connor tries to think of something to say; Abby is similarly silent.

“Nothing that's under our purview, sir,” the soldier replies quickly. “We have an on-site medic to check for any injuries.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The man rubs the back of his head, then looks down at himself. He's wearing a white cotton vest and patterned boxers and nothing else. “Guess it's the monkey suit going on after all.”

Abby smirks at that.

“What's your name?” Connor asks. “Just in case we... need it, for... something?”

The man nods. “Colin Wrathall. Bride's side, for whatever that's worth.”

He might not know the groom, then, Connor thinks a little dejectedly.

“Come on, Mr Wrathall,” the soldier motions to lead him out of the room. “Medic'll check you out.”

They leave, and Connor and Abby turn to look at each other. “That was weird,” Connor says.

Abby nods. “Jess, can you check for CCTV on the grounds or in the house? We've got a possible human intruder -”

“In the vicinity of an anomaly site,” Jess finishes. “I'll let you know if I find something.”

o o o o o

The Ealing anomaly is right where Stephen remembers – from both timelines. The alley is narrow and cramped, with two industrial bins wedged in at the far end. The anomaly is on the far side of the second bin, the light from its top edge just visible over the lid.

Stephen lets Obaid and his team move past him to begin assembling the locking device. He hears another set of boots – Emily's – come up behind him.

“Hard to track anything with this much... around,” she says, scuffing the pavement with the toe of a boot.

Stephen is inclined to agree. He remembers reading that Emily's group had avoided modern eras. He wonders if he should say something when -

“Dr Hart, there's someone here!”

Stephen runs down the alley, Emily close behind him. Obaid's team are circled around the gap between the bins; Stephen pushes through them.

There's a woman on the ground, curled up in a foetal position, her face obscured. Light brown hair, cut short and matted, like it's wet. Her clothes look soaked through. Stephen glances up at the sky; it's a cloudless sky, and there was no rain the previous night.

“Could be homeless, hungover maybe,” someone behind him mutters. Stephen ignores it. He finds one of the woman's wrists and feels for a pulse. It's faint – and there's dried blood on her forearm. Further up the arm is a bite wound, the edges already healing over. Stephen traces the bottom edge of it – and realises he's seen that indentation pattern before.

“A velociraptor did this.”

“Are you sure?” Obaid asks.

“Yes.”

Emily leans in over Stephen's shoulder. “Is she alive?”

“For now,” Stephen says. He's about to stand up and ask Obaid to make sure there's a doctor on standby at the ARC when the woman grabs his wrist, lightning fast, and holds a bloodstained knife to his throat, the tip of the blade just touching his skin.

Stephen freezes. He glances to Emily, who moves back. He hears Obaid and his people do the same.

The woman looks up. Her eyes are dark and her face is impassive – but even so, Stephen would recognise her anywhere.

“Claudia.”