Halloween Invasion

Copyright Oggbashan October 2020

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

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I drove my car into my drive. I had just come from the commuter train. There were a group of children milling about in next door's front garden, many of them crying. As I got out of the car most of them rushed up to be gabbling furiously. I saw Hazel, one of the older girls, who is about twelve years old. All of them were dressed for trick and treating and Hazel was probably escorting her younger brothers.

"Hazel? What's the problem?" I asked.

Hazel turned on the others and shouted "Shut up!"

That quietened them for a few seconds.

"We were trick or treating Mr Allan, and had just arrived at Mrs Oliver's house. It would have been our last."

I could understand that. Mrs Oliver's house and mine are at the extreme edge of the village. Mrs Oliver is a teacher at the local primary school so would be likely to have sweets for the village children.

"As we came into the road there were two men on a motorcycle at the end of the street. That one."

She pointed to a motorcycle at the kerb.

"We rang Mrs Oliver's doorbell but as she answered two men from that bike pushed us out of the way. Mrs Oliver was wearing a witch's hat and cloak. One grabbed Mrs Oliver's hat and yanked it down to cover her whole face. The other produced a large knife and held it at Mrs Oliver's throat. He pushed her inside and the other man shouted at us to 'fuck off'. Then the door shut."

"What did you do, Hazel?"

"I rang the Police but at first they wouldn't believe me. I think it was because they could hear all the other children in the background and thought it was just kids mucking about. But when I gave my parents' name and address they took me seriously, but that took time. They say the police are on their way but they have to come from the town. That's fifteen miles away, Mr Allan. What do I do now?"

I wasn't surprised that the dispatcher believed Hazel when she said her parents' name. Her father is a Justice of the Peace.

"OK, Hazel, thank you. What you do is take all the children away from here to the junction of the street, under the street light. Keep them off the road and wait for the Police. Did anyone recognise the men?"

"They were wearing full motorcycle helmets with black visors," Hazel said. "But one of the boys said he recognised Darren's trainers. Darren is very proud of those expensive trainers. So I think l the other one must be his brother Jason."

"Did you tell the police that, Hazel?"

"Yes, but I made it clear that we only thought it might be Darren, We don't really know..."

"You've done well, Hazel, Leave the rest to me and the police. Take the kids away, please."

"But, Mr Allan, they've got knives..."

"I know. Now go."

I went across to the motorcycle and pulled the ignition wires out of the control box. It wouldn't start without some repairs. I put the wires in a pocket.

I walked to the back of Mrs Oliver's house. I hoped that, like most villagers, she kept the back door unlocked. I was right. I entered the kitchen quietly. I could hear shouting coming from the living room. I ignored the knife block with a variety of knives. Two in the hands of the attackers was enough. I picked up the wooden rolling pin. I moved quietly until I was at the living room door which was open. Darren, if it was Darren -- the trainers looked right -- was on the settee and had his knife to Mrs Olivier's throat. He was screaming at her to show him the jewellery safe.

Darren's brother, if it was Darren's brother, was standing just inside the door, holding a knife as if he didn't know what to with it. Darren saw me but his brother didn't have time to react before I struck his right shoulder with the rolling pin. I heard the shoulder blade break. The knife dropped to the floor and stuck point first in the floorboards. He started to turn but I hit him hard on the sternum with the end of the rolling pin. I heard more bones break and he fell to the floor clutching his chest.

"OK, Darren," I said. "Give up. Drop the knife. You aren't going anywhere."

I threw the motorcycle's wires at him.

"Fuck you!" Darren shouted, "I'll cut her!"

"No you won't. You aren't going anywhere. She can't tell you where her jewellery is, because everyone except the village idiot knows she hasn't got any."

"Her husband had a jewellery shop. She must have a lot!" Darren shouted.

"She sold the shop after the robbery. She sold her jewellery to pay for her husband's funeral. What she got from the sale of the shop and the insurance was this house. She hasn't got any jewellery or money. Everyone except you, Darren, knows that."

"She must have! She's got a safe."

"I haven't any jewellery, Darren," Mrs Oliver said through the muffling hat.

Darren shook her.

"Shut up, bitch!"

"And the safe? Yes, she has one -- over there. It is an antique that was her grandfather's. It isn't locked and the key's in the door. It is useless against thieves, or at least competent thieves, not the village idiot. She only keeps it because it is fireproof and protects documents such as her passport."

As I had hoped, Darren left Mrs Olivier to go to the safe. As he moved I struck out at his knife-carrying arm with my rolling pin, breaking his forearm. His knife dropped, slicing through his trainers into his foot. As he yelled, I hit him again on his shoulder blade and broke that too. He fell to the ground, moaning. Blood was welling from his trainer as he pulled the knife out and dropped it.

I walked over to Mrs Olivier and wrenched the hat off her head.

"Are you OK, Anne?" I asked.

She stood up and pressed against my chest. My arms went around her.

"Yes, Stewart, thanks to you. But what did you do to them?"

"Them? I hit them with your rolling pin."

"But you could have been at risk, Stewart."

"From them? No, Anne. I'm a retired professional killer. They are blundering amateurs. Apart from their stupidity in attacking you for jewels you don't have, they underestimated the trick and treating kids. They've called the police and told me exactly who had attacked you."

Anne picked up her witch's hat and put it defiantly on her head. I pulled her towards the hall. As I passed the two men groaning on the floor I picked up the two knives before dropping them on the hall table. I opened the front door and we went outside. I could see the treat or treat children at the end of the road, carefully herded by Hazel on to the pavement. We could hear the sirens of several police cars approaching the village. As the police car reached the junction all the children were pointing this way.

Four policemen got out, two carrying long arms, the other two with tazers drawn.

"Armed Police! They shouted.

"I know," I said, walking towards them with my hands in the air.

"Are you OK, Mr Allan?" One of the policemen asked.

"Yes," I replied, "But the attackers aren't. You'll find them in the living room and their knives in the hall. They'll need a hospital, not handcuffs."

Three policemen walked past us into the house.

"You should have waited for us," The fourth policeman said accusingly.

"Why? I am better trained than you are," I retorted.

"But you are a civilian." He retorted.

"I'm not. I'm still on the forces reserve."

"As what, sir?"

"A Major of Royal Marine commandos," I said.

The policemen laughed.

"Stupid buggers! They didn't have a chance, did they, Major?"

"Once I was here? No."

"Why were you here, Stewart? Anne asked. "You are normally home an hour later."

I looked at my watch.

"I caught an earlier train to go to a Parish Council meeting about increased vandalism. I'll probably miss it now but I may have solved their problem anyway. Darren and his brother were suspected of being the main offenders,"

One of the policemen came out of the house talking on his radio.

"I have asked for an ambulance. They are both in a bad way."

"Good!" Anne said. "They deserved it. Apart from holding a knife to my throat they upset the younger trick and treaters."

"I think the kids are OK, thanks to Hazel," I said.

"Hazel?"

"She called the police, gave me a concise account of what had happened, and shepherded the kids away."

The children were back, intrigued by the police cars.

""Hazel is a sensible girl. She was head girl at my school in her last year." Anne said.

"And I think she and they might like the sweets you were going to give them, Anne."

"Can I go in and get them, officer?" Anne asked.

"That's probably not a good idea with armed police inside. Where are they?"

"In a bowl by the door."

"OK. I'll get them."

He was back with seconds with the full bowl of sweets.

Anne went to Hazel, spoke to her for a few minutes and gave her the bowl of sweets to distribute. Hazel organised the children into a line and made sure each had an equal share. She brought the bowl back.

"Thank you, Hazel," I said.

"Are you OK, Mr Allan?" Hazel asked. "When I told the police you had gone in the house they were worried. I told them that you would sort it out. They didn't believe me. But you did, didn't you?"

"Yes, Hazel, you could say that. Thank you for your confidence. How did you know?"

"It was from my older brother. You went to a Scout meeting and showed them some unarmed combat. Even six Scouts at once couldn't touch you so I knew two would be easy, for you. They were, weren't they?"

Just then the ambulance arrived with its blues and twos.

"You didn't kill them, did you, Mr Allan?"

An armed policeman answered for me.

"No, Hazel, he didn't, but he could have. They are badly hurt but they'll survive to be tried -- when they come out of hospital. But thank you, Hazel, from the police. You did everything you should have very properly."

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It took over an hour before the police left. The ambulance had gone quickly with a police escort.

Anne was sitting on the settee as I brought her a cup of strong and sweetened tea. She was obviously still in shock.

"How are you, Anne?" I asked as I sat beside her.

"Shaken," she said, snuggling against my side.

I eased an arm behind her back. She put her tea down before resting against my shoulder. Her witch's hat was in the way so she took it off and put it down beside her.

"That was frightening. Once the hat was pulled down I couldn't see and I had difficulty breathing. It's really too large and the pointed top is made of Lycra. Once the brim was around my neck my face was squashed. When I heard you I was worried you would be hurt."

"Me, Anne? They had no chance of hurting me. I know too much about fighting."

"But I'm still worried. What if Darren's father Jason comes? He is a very unpleasant person. When Darren was at school I dreaded seeing his dad."

"OK, Anne, how about this? I invite you to a sleep over at my house next door."

"You're sure?"

"Of course. My house is like a fortress compared with this one."

"It is certainly odd. Why?"

"The original owner had more money than sense. He was flooded out of his previous house and that was vandalised while awaiting repairs. He didn't want to be flooded again so he built his new house on top of a hill.

But that wasn't enough for him. It was built after Munich when he thought a war was imminent. He made the ground floor with three feet thick walls with only two doors. Both are from WW1 navy ships and are watertight, armoured, and can only be opened from the inside which has been almost never since the house was built. He equipped it as an air raid shelter. In the garden he had more thick walls to stop any blast reaching the ground floor, with an overlap for access.

The balcony that goes around the whole house had an inner core of armour plate designed to stop a four inch shell. At the bottom of the covered stairway is yet another armoured door. When built it had blast shutters on all the windows. I've taken them off because they were rusty. The final nonsense was that he had a motorboat slung on davits. Why? The house is one hundred feet above any possible flood. The boat is long gone and I took the davits down.

The silly thing is that he wasn't here during the war. He was in intelligence based in London. He had let it be used as an air warden's post and base for the Home Guard. No bombs fell within five miles of here. He was killed in an air raid in 1940. His son inherited but never moved in. It was unoccupied until I bought it and renovated it."

"Why did you buy it, Stewart?"

"Unlike the original owner, I have a real threat to my life. Once in the house with the access door shut I can buy time, or even fight back. I can sleep peacefully for the first time in years, knowing I am safe, and even if attacked, I can survive for hours if need be before the police arrive."

"And I would be safe from Jason, Stewart?"

"Unless he has an air force, Anne, Yes."

"Then I accept your invitation. I had a casserole prepared. Will that do for your evening meal?

"Yes, Anne, thank you. I was going to microwave something after the meeting."

"Which you've now missed."

"Yes, But looking after you was more important."

"I'm still worried -- about Jason's father. He is likely to react badly to Jason's arrest."

"But he couldn't get at you, or me, in my house. Come on."

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Half an hour later we were sitting side by side on the settee in my living room. The casserole and jacket potatoes were in the oven. The meal would be ready in two hours. The downstairs door was shut, locked and bolted.

"Why have you never married, Stewart>" Anne asked.

I sighed.

"I supposed it was because my activities in the Marines could be dangerous. I didn't want to leave a widow after a few weeks. Even though I have retired, the IRA or whatever they call themselves now, still would like revenge. I had three tours in Northern Ireland and I killed Provos each time. That's why I have this house. I was looking for something that would protect me from bombs and bullets. I had been thinking of a converted Martello Tower, but this is more comfortable."

"Are they still a real threat, Stewart?"

"I don't think so. They have more important people to go after now. I left Northern Ireland eight years ago and retired from the Marines three years ago. Even if they wanted to kill me, they are more likely to attack me in London than in my fortress of a house."

"What do you do now?"

"I'm a civil servant in the Ministry of Defence. Once in my office I'm protected. I'm only vulnerable on the way to and from work."

"So you could marry now?"

"Yes, I suppose I could, But who would want me? I'm getting on, a bit bashed about from bullet wounds, and boring..."

"Boring? No, Stewart."

Anne surprised me by climbing on my lap and kissing me. It took me a few seconds to respond appropriately. It was so unexpected.

When the kiss finished she rested against my shoulder.

"Why Anne?" I asked tentatively.

"Why? Because you are a friend, a neighbour, someone who rescued me, and you have been considerate, especially in the weeks after my husband died. I knew you were there to help if I needed you, and that you wouldn't take advantage. Sometimes that was a bit frustrating. I wanted you to take advantage but you always behaved correctly. But now? You deserve a reward for saving me. I'm staying here tonight and I want to stay in your bed, Stewart."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. I need you. I want you."

I couldn't respond. Anne was kissing me fiercely. I could respond to her kisses with some of my own. We might have gone further, even before the meal was ready, but we heard a shotgun being fired and breaking glass outside.

I lifted Anne of my lap and pushed her down on the settee.

"Keep your head down, Anne. Nothing can get through the balcony walls. You would only be vulnerable if you stand up."

Outside we heard a shout:

"There's no one in, Tod. What now?"

"That's Jason's uncle," Anne whispered.

"OK. Ring the police." I pointed to the telephone on the coffee table. "I'll stop them, whatever they intend."

I went to my gun cabinet and got out my old SMLE and two clips. I loaded it, picked up a child's cardboard telescope and went into the hall. I opened the door and crept out on hands and knees, I could hear Anne talking to the police.

"We'll burn her out!" Tod shouted.

I peered over the balcony with the periscope. I could see Tod beside a Range Rover, his shotgun leaning against the front. He went to the back and got out a petrol can. I stood up, took aim, and shot a hole through the can. Tod dropped it, the contents wetting his trousers.

"Give up, Tod!" I shouted. "I could shoot you now."

"Fuck you!" He shouted back, reaching for his shotgun.

I put three bullets through the windows of the Range Rover.

"I hope you are insured, But it won't matter if you're dead."

I was aiming straight at his heart. He dropped the shotgun as if it had suddenly become red-hot. I kept him covered as I heard police sirens approaching. They must have been close.

+++

Anne had to turn the heat down on the casserole as we had to give interviews to the police and download images from our video cameras. Tod and his brother were arrested for criminal damage, attempted arson, and witness intimidation and for Tod, possession of an unlicensed firearm while disqualified from obtaining a licence, driving a stolen Range Rover with no tax or insurance and while disqualified.

We ate the casserole eventually before going to bed together to find out whether we were compatible. We were and are and look forward to months of lovemaking...