Jessamy Beech Ch. 12: Thanatos

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the eagle eyed reader who pointed out the geographical error in Chapter 11, that I've since rectified and reposted.

As I'm typing this, Jessamy Beech Chapter 11 has so far received 16 five star ratings in a row. I'm flattered, thanks very much. I must be doing something right and I hope this instalment lives up to all your expectations.

Trying to save the world from Thanatos is only the beginning ...

*

August 20th 2021 ...

"... there are unconfirmed reports that Russia has launched a nuclear weapon against the rogue asteroid Thana -"

Laura distractedly clicked off the TV news and sipped her iced tea. It was only more doom and gloom about that bloody asteroid anyway. She had far more important things to worry about.

Through the open patio doors she could see Iona splashing around outside in her paddling pool. She hated restricting the children to the house and garden like this on such beautiful summer evenings. But until they knew the neighborhood better and the surrounding area she didn't feel safe taking them for long walks in the countryside.

She sighed, gazing around at the piles of brown cardboard boxes filling every corner of the kitchen and lounge. There was still so much unpacking to do.

Perhaps they should get a dog, she thought. Everyone wanted to stop and speak to you if you had a cute puppy. What better way to get to know a few people?

Every two or three years her husband was getting posted somewhere new. This latest move to Gloucestershire had admittedly come with a promotion to the rank of major, which meant they could afford to rent a bigger house on the outskirts of the city, but it also meant the children hardly ever saw him. Between time spent at Cheltenham's GCHQ and every other weekend at some hush hush project in Gloucester itself, both Iona and Hamish were usually in bed and fast asleep by the time he returned home.

The joys of being an officer's wife.

Laura felt desperately isolated. They had no social life, their sex life that had once been so exciting and adventurous had dwindled to nothing and Laura was really beginning to fear for the state of their marriage.

A dull thud somewhere off in the distance outside made the old timber casement windows rattle.

"What was that mummy?" called Iona from the garden, looking around worried.

Laura was about to head outside to investigate when Hamish came charging down the stairs from his room, "Mum! My X-Box stopped workin'."

She flicked a light switch. On, off. Nothing. The built in clock on the microwave was also dark, "Don't worry dear, it's just a powercut. It'll be back on again soon."

Another bang from outside, closer this time. Followed worryingly by a scream and a squawking car alarm.

"What IS that? Iona, come indoors please."

A second later it seemed the entire sky was ablaze. Red hot chunks of flaming rock hurtled overhead filling the air with noise and a sulphurous stench. Glowing contrails of boiling gas traced bright lines across the cloudless blue sky as the ground shook from impact after impact ...

"IONA! GET INSIDE NOW!"

CHAPTER TWELVE: THANATOS

April 25th 2051. Thirty years later ...

PART ONE: TWEEDMOUTH

Jessamy clambered off the bed naked and hurriedly reached for her clothes. She didn't have time for modesty when the fate of the entire planet could be at stake, "Where?" she snapped.

Merida felt a little uncomfortable standing in the doorway watching her friend get dressed, but couldn't help but stare, admiring the curves of Jessamy Beech's toned body in the candlelight. Her hips, her breasts. A body she'd caressed and kissed almost nightly twenty years ago. It had altered noticeably - all lean muscle now without an ounce of fat, despite Jessamy having had two children. Marked with numerous faded white scars and old wounds but still beautiful. Jessamy's long blonde hair had been transformed into more manageable and therefore practical dreadlocks, and one side of her once flawless face covered with an intricate celtic knot tattoo - but it was still her. Lovely, desirable Jessamy Beech, the frightened little girl she'd rescued in the backstreets of Oban grown into a formidable and legendary warrior.

"Where, Merida?" Jessamy repeated firmly. She gingerly pulled on a microfleece trying not to aggravate her healing stitches.

"Wh ...? Oh, our scouts have been in contact. He's holed up in an abandoned farm on the outskirts of Stroud in what used to be Gloucestershire."

Fuck, thought Jessamy. Gloucestershire. He was almost at the bunker.

Only minutes before Merida had interrupted Hamnavoe and Jessamy's lovemaking with news that Jessamy had been hoping for and dreading in equal measure. They'd finally found Trevithick.

Also known as Admiral Dale Fredrickson.

Knowing their quarry's ultimate destination had made finding him a lot easier but Jessamy guessed that without Ross and Merida's help it would have been a monumental undertaking for Hamnavoe and herself.

"How lass?" called Hamnavoe from the bed. Despite the urgency he was a little more bothered by who saw him naked and clutched the duvet around himself to conceal his gradually shrinking erection, as he snatched his clothes from the floor.

"Shortwave radio," answered Merida, "it's all that works over such dista -"

"Tell them not to engage," Jessamy interrupted, "we need him to access the bunker in Gloucester Cathedral. We think he's going there to sabotage it, maybe even to destroy it. But we need him to use it for what it was designed for. We need to be there. In fact Meri, tell your scouts to head back here, we can deal with him ourselves."

"And how the fuck are we gonnae get tae Gloucestershire, JB?" Hamnavoe spread his hands wide, letting the duvet fall, "it's hundreds o' fuckin' miles away in case ye hadn't noticed."

"Roughly three hundred and twenty five ..." Merida supplied. She couldn't help stealing a glance at what the old Scot had to offer.

Hamnavoe huffed, "Fer FUCK'S sake. Even on horseback it'd take days. He may as well be on the fuckin' moon."

Jessamy punched the whitewashed stone wall in frustration, "FUCK!"

"Um, Jess ..." ventured Merida quietly.

"WHAT?"

"It's all in hand. Get dressed, get your shit together and get downstairs."

Jessamy and Hamnavoe exchanged a glance then stared at her, puzzled.

"Trust me," Merida smiled a knowing smile and left, closing the door softly behind her.

. . .

"Where are you taking us Meri? We really don't have the time for this," Twenty minutes later, Jessamy was finding it hard to keep up though she was loathe to admit it. Merida was leading her and Hamnavoe south across the old Berwick Bridge, one of the three bridges that had once spanned the mighty River Tweed. To their right, the mounds of shattered concrete that had once been the much newer Royal Tweed Bridge destroyed twenty years earlier by Thanatos, formed islands in the swirling dark waters. Cormorants perched there, drying their wings in between hunting for an early breakfast.

To their left, the sun rose over the North Sea turning bands of grey cloud a pinkish orange. A dark shape momentarily eclipsed part of the glowing disc, seeming to crawl painfully slowly across the sky, but they all knew that the enormous rogue asteroid was in fact hurtling around the Earth at many thousands of miles an hour.

"Tamsin's offered to take care of your dog while you're gone," said Merida, "she loves animals."

Jessamy grunted. Knowing that Myrtle was going to be fed and watered hardly improved her mood. Swans watched them warily from the shallows as they neared the end of the bridge. Berwick had once been famous for the several hundred of the birds that had lived and bred on this part of the river. But after thirty years of harsh winters and hunting by locals desperate for food, only a few now remained.

"There was one omission from the guided tour we gave you," continued Merida, shouting over the gusting wind coming in off the sea as they entered Tweedmouth, the settlement south of the river from Berwick, "we weren't sure we could get her up and running on time and didn't want to get your hopes up."

"Get what ... up and running on time?" Jessamy panted. The old police issue stab vest she'd put on to give her wound a little more protection was restricting her breathing somewhat.

"You'll see," Merida practically skipped ahead up Tweedmouth's main street, Prince Edward Road. Jessamy watched her, bemused. The pretty redhead had barely changed in both looks and personality. Even at forty Merida was stunning. Hard work and healthy living had left her with the body of a twenty five year old. Her brother Ross was an incredibly lucky man.

At the top of Main Street, Merida turned left just after the piles of scorched rubble that had once been Billendean Road. She strode onto a wide and windswept grassy field, in the centre of which Ross, his son John and several others wrapped up warm against the bitter cold wrestled with what appeared to be an enormous khaki parachute covering something large.

"There's nowhere to land in Berwick and our pilot's still not that experienced so we didn't want any accidents," explained Merida. A gust of wind caught the billowing parachute and whipped it away, revealing the patched and scuffed looked EH101 Merlin helicopter underneath, "we call her Phoenix."

Despite the burning pain in her chest, Jessamy grinned, "You've got to be fucking kidding me. Where, the hell did you find this?"

They watched as Ross and the others gathered the parachute in and folded it.

"Phoenix was the last aircraft to escape RAF Woodvale when they evacuated. The Reivers we ran into in Tyndrum didn't stop in Cumbria. They advanced all the way south into Lancashire. I think you said you were in Bristol or someplace when it all happened," said Merida.

"Gloucester," Jessamy corrected. She gawped. A helicopter. Possibly the last functioning helicopter in the country. Ross raised a hand, walking briskly towards them with John and another, middle-aged man who looked strangely familiar.

Jessamy stared, an icy finger tracing a line up her spine. Apart from a few wrinkles and grey hairs the little bastard hadn't changed a bit. She remembered their first meeting ...

. . .

She'd been lying on a debris strewn beach. Bricks, timber, body parts and even pieces of car littered the oily black sand. In the distance, a long pier like the one she'd passed in Blackpool jutted out into the Irish Sea.

Jessamy had brushed back the matted hair stuck to her cheek with a glue of dried blood and regarded the strangers approaching. Three men, each of them dressed in patched and worn military fatigues and kevlar helmets, one carrying an SA80 assault rifle, the other two loaded crossbows.

Fodders.

"Wh-where am I?" Jessamy had croaked. Her throat had been parched.

"Sunny Southport love," assault rifle man had answered, "and who the fuck are you?"

"J-jessamy Beech. There was a-a storm."

"You ain't fuckin' kidding. Were you out in that?" one of the others had asked.

Jessamy had nodded, wincing as her head throbbed painfully.

Assault rifle had glanced up and down the deserted beach, "We should take her in ..."

The others had nodded.

"... after we've had a bit of fun," he'd leered down at her, "that alright wiv you darlin'?"

Three horny soldiers with just one thing on their minds. Jessamy had reached down and tugged her Glock from its holster.

"Shit Brian. She's tooled up!"

Jessamy hadn't even seen the boot that kicked her brutally in the face. She'd just felt an explosion of pain as her lip burst and her Glock went skittering harmlessly across the sand. Strong hands had instantly seized her limbs, pinning her face down.

"Open her legs."

Someone had scrabbled at her belt and moments later, Jessamy felt her Craghoppers and panties being yanked roughly down, "Getthefuckoffofme!"

"Hold her still!"

. . .

Brian Newald. One of the three who'd tried to rape her on Southport beach before she'd been rescued by Seoras. But Jessamy was no longer the naive teenaged girl who'd just barely survived a debris storm at sea. She smashed her fist into Newald's jaw and even as he dropped, drew her Glock and pressed the barrel against his head, "Say your prayers fucker!"

"JESS, DON'T!" Merida screamed. Newald cowered, clutching a hand to his split lip.

"This little puke and his two mates tried to rape me," Jessamy snarled, "give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

Ross gripped her gun hand, "Because he's your pilot."

Jessamy paused, "What?"

"Brian here is the last survivor of the Army Air Corps," Ross quickly explained, "he was a trainee at Woodvale. Whatever beef you've got with him will have to wait. You shoot him, we've got no-one else to pilot that Merlin, Jess."

BLAM!

Jessamy fired a round into the damp earth barely a foot from Newald's head, "Fuck!"

All the time she'd spent at Woodvale avoiding Newald, Sikorsky and their friend Weitzman, Jessamy hadn't realised that the little shit was one of their last surviving helicopter pilots. She took a few steps away with her back to them, breathing hard, "Let's ... just get onboard and finish this."

Merida helped Newald to his feet, "You sure you're ready for this Jess?"

Jessamy spun around, eyes blazing, "I've been ready for this for twenty fucking years Meri. Ever since we found Air Force One crashed in Keswick and I found out about the bunker, I've been ready. I appreciate everything you've done for us but having to trust this little shit," she gestured to Newald who was shaking his head trying to clear the ringing in his ears, "it just reminds me of all the scum who aren't worth saving."

"I was one of those scum a few weeks ago when you were huntin' ma scrawny ass all across Scotland," Hamnavoe reminded her.

Jessamy looked at him, biting her lip.

Hamnavoe pointed into the sky at the jagged shape orbiting hundreds of miles overhead like a second moon in the early morning light, "This fuckin' big rock that's about to land on our heads has made scum of all of us to a certain extent JB. We've ALL done things we're no' proud of. Things we'd rather forget. But if we bring that fucker Thanatos down ... not literally mind, we'll have a second chance to do things properly. To do things right."

Jessamy stared at him long and hard, then sighed, "If you're going to propose again this is neither the time or the place."

"Have I missed something?" Merida asked.

Jessamy smiled awkwardly at her dearest friend, "I'll tell you when we get back. IF we get back. Though I suppose if we don't then none of this will matter any more. Right. I'm ... sorry for that ... outburst everyone."

Brian Newald nervously approached, blood trickling down his stubbled chin, "I ... didn't realise it was you. I'm ... sorry for what we did. Truly sorry."

Ross and Hamnavoe readied themselves to grab her in case Jessamy decided to finish what she'd started.

"Let's just ... get onboard, eh?" with shaking fingers, Jessamy slipped her Glock back into its thigh holster, "... and go try to save the world."

PART TWO: FLIGHT OF THE PHOENIX

Jessamy, Hamnavoe, Ross and John stowed their weapons and strapped themselves in. They couldn't help but notice that half of the Merlin's cabin was taken up by twenty gallon white plastic containers securely tied down with a cargo net.

"What's in the containers?" Jessamy shouted to Newald over the whining drone of the engines starting up.

"Fuel," Newald answered, eyeing her warily, "to make sure we have enough to get back. I don't know how many detours we'll have to make so I don't know how long the onboard tanks'll last either. That stuff's really flammable so it's probably best you don't make any sparks back there," he adjusted his flying helmet and went back to preflight checks.

"Great," muttered Jessamy through clenched teeth, "we're riding in what's essentially a great big bomb."

Hamnavoe shrugged, "Hey, what's the worst that could happen?"

Jessamy glared at him, "Duh ... we die?

"How long till we get there?" Hamnavoe asked Ross to change the subject.

"Allowing for detours, maybe two, two and a half hours," Ross answered.

"We can be back in time fer lunch then," Hamnavoe winked meaningfully at Jessamy, "them mebbe go back tae bed for ... a siesta?"

Jessamy looked quickly away, staring out of the scratched perspex window of the Merlin, remembering the feel of Hamnavoe's thick fingers sliding down between her buttocks.

She shook her head. Now wasn't the time for distractions. Four of them ... five, including Newald ... flying over hundreds of miles of inhospitable terrain, rubble and bloodthirsty crazies in a patched up helicopter that probably hadn't seen a proper service for the best part of forty years. Going to save the world from a psychopath and a great big rock the size of France. Who were they kidding?

They didn't have a snowball's hope in hell, she realised.

But Jessamy had known about the secret of the bunker for twenty years, and the way she'd lived her life had been defined by that knowledge. Bromden's laminated list of names - Turkle, Fredrickson, Harding, Banavie et al - had been as much a part of her as her own limbs. To give up now, to admit defeat, would be to dishonour all those she'd ever loved and lost. She still had to try. Even if it killed her, she still had to try, "Take her up."

The Merlin's engines rose in pitch and, just as before when Jessamy and the others had flown from Woodvale to Gloucester, the craft rattled and shook alarmingly as it wobbled up into the air.

Jessamy caught one last glimpse of Merida standing alone on the grassy field, the downdraft blowing her red hair out like a copper coloured pennant in the rising sun. Then Newald dipped Phoenix's nose and they accelerated away, heading due south into sky the colour of a fresh bruise.

. . .

The dark, swirling twenty mile wide funnel of a debris storm in the distance over Manchester forced Newald to make their first drastic course correction. Jessamy tried to ignore the myriad squeaks and groans coming from the aging helicopter's airframe as Newald altered their heading.

"So Ross," Hamnavoe began, "how did ye manage to find yer lovely wee sister again after ten years apart?"

"Jess managed to escape from Mull and ran into us on the mainland," Ross answered. He caught Jessamy's eye. Probably wondering how much I've told Hamnavoe about the two of us and Merida she thought.

"An' ye didnae even ken Jess was yer sister?"

"I had amnesia," Ross replied.

"Oh aye," Hamnavoe nodded, "what was that like?"

Ross smiled, "I can't remember."

Hamnavoe threw his head back and laughed.

"Aunt Jessamy," John called over the roar of the Merlin's engines, "does anyone else have any old military equipment that we should know about?"

Her nephew was the spitting image of Ross, she realised, but with Merida's flame red hair colouring. Jessamy hoped that she'd get the opportunity to take them all back to Cornwall with her to meet her father and Mpenzi. Not to mention Phoebe and little Ada. How she missed them.

"Yeah. Various bandits and groups of crazies as you probably know. But we've come across Reivers that have been extremely well equipped too," Jessamy answered, "the Orcadian militia that put a price on Hamnavoe's head have enough guns to start a war, but they keep pretty much to themselves. The one guy we really need to worry about is an ex con who calls himself Jack Aubrey. He's got an army of followers and his own Royal Navy frigate down in Devonport. I've had ... a couple of run-ins with him over the years and I think if he knew what you've achieved up in Berwick, you'd be in serious trouble."