Surviving When The Lights Went Out

"Well just you go Jim, I'll stay here with Deana while she washes up." He saw her face, a look of shocked disbelief at his crap stalking we'd witnessed so far, "but I'm Sass!" he whined in a small voice as if that statement was enough.

"We'll all go then," I hissed, no way was I leaving this bastard with MY girl.

So we tramped through the woods, no crossbow, but a promise that Mac could 'hit a gnat's eye at 100 yards' with his 'piece'.

"Trained Sniper me Deana," he said as we walked through the woods, her and me both light on our feet and virtually soundless, even in Wellingtons, the Sass super-soldier sounding like a herd of elephants and not even making the effort. "I was trained as a sniper when I was still in the Para's like," he said stepping on a branch and making a cracking crunch that could probably be heard all the way to Colchester.

"Oh... really," said the girl who knew more about windage, ghillie suits and ammunition types than this twat ever would.

"Yeah," he stretched against his noisy and disorganised equipment vest, the raising of his arms giving vent to his appalling body odour, "shot half a dozen Taliban with one of these from nearly a mile away," he patted his SA80 assault rifle that wasn't accurate over that distance.

"Has that gun got the range?" I asked, knowing full well it didn't.

"We took these out and tested them," he said, "first in, always the way with the airborne. Pride of Two Para I was Deana, one of their best, commanding officer begged me not to go!"

"I'll bet," she said her face still wrinkled from the stench at his armpits.

"Best combat soldiers in the world the Para's," In a moment quite comedic he'd started to walk backwards like a patrolling soldier might, as her tried to court my 'sister' with his Military prowess, staring through his scope to check if we were being followed, "spect you know that with a Dad like your..." he tripped over a log and fell on his arse.

"The finest Mac!" she smiled holding back her laughter.

"Laugh at me bitch and you'll feel the back of my hand!" he snapped at her his face beet red and struggling to stand up. As he did the magazine fell out of his gun with a clatter. In a flap he dropped down to retrieve it and I did think about jumping him. "Don't think about it Jim!" he said slipping it back in, "I'm fucking trained! I CAN READ YOUR THOUGHTS BEFORE YOU FUCKING HAVE THEM!" he shouted pointing the gun back at me.

"I was going to help you up Mac."

"Yeah, course you were," my step closer had proved one thing to me, it was a real SA80 at least, I had hoped it was model, a BB gun, but it was very real. "Did you see my reflexes then Deana? Did yah?"

"Cat-like," she said with a smile as fake as his reflexes, "positively cat-like..."

"Too fast for young Jim there that's for sure!" he chuckled thrusting the muzzle at me, "Para-fast! Yeah!"

"Yeah, well perhaps a trained Para shouldn't have fallen in his arse in the first place," I said quietly and keeping my distance. He must have heard as he turned an angry look at me, making him stumble over something in the undergrowth a second time.

"Utrinque Paratus Deana," he said stepping closer to her again, "means 'always ready' Babe, and THAT'S what we are!"

"It means 'ready for anything' Mac," I pointed out to the mistake in his Latin translation.

He spun around his gun poking in my chest,

"What the fuck do you know eh smartarse?" Mac poked me hard in the chest, knocking me to the floor, "Eeh? What the fuck do you know!" his lips flexing and pouting as if he was going to cry, "I'm getting PREEEEETTY pissed off with your bloody attitude..."

"Mac," said Jack, a soft hand on the foregrip just touching his thumb, "go easy on the adrenaline mate, don't lose your focus, you're here to defend us?"

"Yeah," he shook his head and sniffed, "Yeah sorry, it's... I tend to get a bit upset like, what with seeing me mates blown up, them kids I had to shoot because they had grenades, sorry Jim."

He turned away for a moment, looking towards the trees and wiping away imaginary tears for his imaginary mates. As Deana offered me her hand and looked at me with narrowed eyes she mouthed 'American Sniper?'

I nodded, it was one of the major scenes when Bradley Cooper decides on taking the shot to kill the little boy to save the patrol.

"Let's go back and have some lunch," she said watching with faux-concern as Mac wiped that terrible day at the cinema from his mind.

"Thanks," he said and I saw we were taking the long way back, at least a mile out of our way.

OK, we were marginally safer out here, but it was more time we had to listen to his fucking war stories.

"Course Sierra Leone was a proper laugh, saving those Paddy's!" he chuckled the strangest sounding noise, like he wasn't sure how to laugh 'proud', "your Dad was there wasn't he Deana?"

Shit, we hadn't thought about that. But Jack came back with a perfect response.

"I have no idea," she said without a hint of guile, "you'll need to ask the journalist biographer there."

Perfect.

"Yes," I said confidently, "although he wasn't Involved in the rescue."

"Your book says he was in Sierra Leone!"

"And so he was, he went there after the rescue to work with their army and train them how to deal with rebels."

"Yeah, course he did!" he stepped closer to Deana, "shot two of the South Side Boys m'self Deana."

WEST Side Boys, They were the fucking WEST Side Boys! I was screaming in my head.

"I shot the one that was hiding under the stairs," he stroked the rifle like a religious artefact, "twat never knew what hit him."

"Nice," said Jack, not wanting him to think she enjoyed listening to all of this shit.

From writing up my Dad's career I knew he'd gone there in 2001 as a young SAS Officer, months after the attack -- if this twat had been there he would have barely been a teenager.

Fortunately before too long we were back in the Croft and I was cutting a loaf and making sandwiches, using some of our precious tinned ham, but it could have week old mutton for all I could taste and appreciate.

"Thanks Deana!" he purred with a wrinkle to his blotchy and black head ridden nose.

I was really concerned now; he was coming on to 'Deana' quite considerably and I knew it would only be a matter of time before he would start to get more serious with her lack of consideration for his greatness, heroism and down right sex-appeal.

Jack and I sat on the sofa with the two paperback books we'd selected those lovely nights before but hadn't gotten around to reading because we were so busy with other things.

Jack and I cooked between us and had roast boar with fried rice, it was an amazing flavour and our guest licked his plate clean.

"Gonna wash-up Mac, we cooked?" she said.

"Naah," he said, "gotta go out and check around, security and that."

"You didn't need to check around last night."

"Yeah, well..." he stood, stuck his nose in the air and all but ran from the room.

Jack and I looked at each other and giggled, the relief from the tension considerable. We thought about locking the door but he would have simply blasted the locks off.

He came back half an hour later, the plates and dishes still in the sink.

"I'm knackered Jimmy," she said with a yawn and a stretch an hour later and gave me a quite sisterly hug and a kiss, "I'm off."

"Night!" I said barely stopping myself from adding 'Jack' to the conversation.

"Don't I get a kiss goodnight?" said Mac with a raised eyebrow 'ala 1970's Roger Moore.

"No Mac sorry, I kiss my brother, I kiss my Mum, I kiss my boyfriend -- no one else."

"Who... who's your boyfriend?" he sounded quite... grumpy about that, not angry because in the two days since he ingratiated himself on us he hadn't once asked if there was a man in her life.

"Alastair," she said quite simply, "he's a farmer in Scotland, we met at University, I was supposed to be flying up there for half term but suddenly the flights are either too expensive or because of the fuel crisis the planes aren't flying."

"Not a soldier then?" he said with some surprise as if this was the measure of all men.

"No, he's a FARMER like I said, he owns quite a few thousand acres of the highlands, and has cattle roaming all over them plus quite a lot of deer stalking and grouse moors, his father is a Clan Chieftain and millionaire several times over."

"Oh," he said, as if he really wasn't ready for that reply. It went very quiet and I was waiting for him to make his next romantic move.

"Getting married late summer," she said giving herself a hug. She grinned again, "goodnight boys," said Jack and she was up and into her bedroom, that comforting 'clunk' letting me know she was safe from our guest's next lot of romantic requests.

"Think I'll turn in too Mac, G'night." I nodded, "Dishes and pans still need doing."

"Night Jim," he said with a grin, "I'll just have another check around outside and make sure everything's secure for the night," he wrinkled his nose and narrowed his eyes as if to let me know that all was well as he was on watch, but I guessed that his overwatch would preclude him from domestic drudgery.

I headed to my bedroom, the pillow on my single bed still just about having the smell of her hair about it from the fortnight she'd slept there alone. His checking involved him hitting two lots of strung together tin can alarms and I heard him hiss 'Oh fuck'; so much for his cat-like Para fast reflexes.

I was still stuck with what to do with this knobber. I could try and rush him I supposed but he was actually a bit taller than me, but rather skinny since I'd seen him without his shirt that morning. Size aside the shortness of his gun meant that he could deploy it quite quickly and would have a quite considerably arc of fire with it.

Shitshitshit.

I nodded off.

I woke with a start, it was first light and his loud grunting snore was audible through my closed bedroom door. I got up and went into the bathroom and it reeked to high heaven. While he'd gone in there to take care of natural functions, he hadn't flushed properly nor bothered to wash his reeking body and the air was fetid and foul. I opened the window and took a deep breath of fresh air.

I cleaned my teeth and had a shower, drying off and stepping back into my room and my reasonably fresh clothes. Refreshed I stepped into the kitchen and was not surprised that our guest's cat-like Para reflexes still had him snoring and grunting even after I'd flushed the toilet several times, showered and opened and closed doors. Jack peaked her head around the door and sniffed -- I nodded to our snoring companion.

She had a shower and dressed and he slept on, by which time I'd made tea and had found our large bowl of overnight oats on the table next to him, almost empty with the desert spoon he'd eaten it with sat deep in what was to have been our breakfast for another few days.

"Oh for fuck's sake Mac!" I snapped moving close to him and seeing that he hadn't zipped himself into his sleeping bag this time, and he jumped up.

"What!" he blustered rolling off of the sofa his gun falling to the floor, but it didn't go off.

He snatched it up, taking cover behind the sofa like a total cock. I stood there holding the mug of tea I'd made for him as he stared at me across it.

"Well done Mac, you've eaten about three days worth of all of our breakfast," I raised a hand.

"I... I left you some!"

"Yeah, you have haven't you, you ate two thirds of it putting the spoon you've had in your mouth back into the food which is bad enough, but the you've left it out of the fridge with your spit on it to fester in this nice warm room, now no one can fucking eat it, guessing you missed the food hygiene lesson at school?"

"I'll fucking eat it!" he snapped, "just 'cos you fuckin' snowflakes are too fuckin' precious..."

"Eat it then!" shouted Jack with folded arms, "don't you dare waste a fucking scrap!"

"DON'T YOU FUCKIN' DARE LECTURE ME!" he shouted, "I'm... I'm a fucking... GROWN-UP!"

"HA!" shouted Jack.

He snatched up the Brown China bowl and threw it across the kitchen to smash on the stone floor.

"Oh that's just fucking brilliant!" she shouted, "a perfect time to have a fucking schoolboy tantrum MISTER FUCKING GROWN-UP!" Jack's response to his anger was to get angrier.

He swung his gun from me to her.

"Fucking shoot me then dickhead!" she stepped right up close and grabbed the muzzle of the gun and pushed it to her forehead "that'll make everything fucking brilliant -- what kind of cunt are you?"

"Don't..." he pulled his gun back still holding it by the pistol grip but pointing at her face to show he was still in charge.

"Don't what Mac? Don't break the only fucking bowl that's big enough for us to make oatmeal in?! What..." she stammered, "what the fuck?! This is life and fucking death!" she shouted into his face, "Do you ACTUALLY have the first fucking clue about that!? Because I don't think you fucking do!"

Mac stood there in his reeking shirt, with God knows how many days of stubble and lengthening greasy hair, his lips flexing and tightening as he tried to rationalise what he'd just done into something greater than 'I'm the eldest' up to his usual 'I've got a gun and you haven't'.

I counted down in my head, it would be dead mates, dead children, Afghanistan, Iraq, Sierra Leone...

"I... it's the anniversary," he said, "losing all my mates..." he paused, "in Syria," he added lowering the gun.

Syria? Dad had never admitted to going there, this was new and I was about to ask him some questions about his time in Syria but Jack was straight back in.

"Very sad, but what are we going to eat for breakfast Mac, being SAS you can scrap the oatmeal off of the floor and eat it, but James and I don't have you background. Got anything in your bag WE can steal from you and eat?"

"I didn't steal it..." he whined, "it was in the fridge and I was..."

"Oh don't give me that 'I was hungry' shit again! In case you haven't noticed we're all fucking hungry, James and I especially now you've eaten our breakfast, and thrown the rest on the floor and fucked whatever chance we had of making any more!" She stepped closer to him with her hands on her hips, every inch the angry woman, "you turn up here with your stories of guarding the government and being 'out and about' but you don't have a fucking clue! You promised you'd play your part but all you've done so far is eat more than your share of the food; even though you're 2 Para's best sniper, you can't even WALK in the woods let alone STALK," she slowed for the kill, "the final piss in the team teapot, we JUST managed to stop you from destroying our only means of catching meat then you wreck our oatmeal bowl -- not exactly showering yourself in regimental glory so far are you?"

CHRIST but Jack was angry!

"I..." he spread his arms again in mute apology, seeing any chance of impressing this beautiful and as far as he was concerned 'almost available' girl sailing down the romantic sewer with all the rest of his shit.

"I'm going out to forage," she dragged on her boots and he stepped up to her.

"I'll com..." he tried with a nervous smile but she raised a pointed finger.

"STAY... the fuck... away from me!" She stood up and pushed past him and wrinkled her nose, "AND TAKE A FUCKING SHOWER FOR GOD'S SAKE!"

She stormed out of the room, and he raised a finger pointing it uselessly at her back as the door slammed behind her.

"She... She..."

"Mac, you ate her favourite breakfast then threw the rest on the floor, smashing her grandma's best cooking bowl into the bargain!"

His bottom lip stuck out like he was a ten year old.

"I don't... smell..." he pouted.

"Mac, you stink mate, the smell in the bathroom this morning was vile, and only half of it was because you hadn't flushed the toilet -- take a shower mate, put your other shirt on and stick that one in the wash before it walks there on its own!"

"I've only got one..." he said, coming back in with, "My other one is back in Hereford!"

"Surely you brought more than one with you." I said, "Take the fucking thing off Mac I have a full load in the washing machine and I'll clean it."

He sniffed his pits and made to put down his gun, then looking at me and picking it up again.

We both waited for each other to speak. I folded my arms to see just how he was going to remove this quite tight-fitting long-sleeved shirt over his head and both arms and still keep control of his only bargaining point.

I shook my head, turned and walked away, a small victory.

"Yeah," I heard as he tried to shuffle his left arm out of it, "yeah, just you walk away -- it's much safer for you..."

"Safer away from the stench," I mumbled.

"WHAT?!" he shouted.

"Nothing," I shouted back.

"No you said something, come on, you obviously fancy a go so let's do it." He stepped up behind me.

I turned.

"Have a go?" I said with narrowed eyes, "what do you mean by 'have a go', a duel perhaps? We take fifteen paces, turn and I try to punch you while you shoot me?"

He did a silent chuckle heavy with shoulder movements as if this would reinforce his superiority over me.

"I could take you with ONE HAND Jim, no need for the rifle."

"Yet still you won't put it down." I did a silent chuckle with a shoulder roll just in case.

I could see him thinking about this challenge. All he was and all he had was the assault rifle and while he was a bit taller than me and a tiny bit heavier it would still be quite 50/50.

"Nah," he said, "I'll let you live today Jim."

"Thanks!" I said. I turned away from him and back to the kitchen, "So you aren't going to take off your stinking shirt?"

"The Sass don't wash in the field, it's ROP!"

I sighed and rolled my eyes,

"They don't wear DEODORANTS Mac and it's an SOP for fuck's sake!"

"W...what?"

"SOP! Standard Operating Procedure!"

"This is Sass... we use ROP's!" he paused, "Regimental Operating Procedure!"

"Oh fuck off Mac -- you, in the SAS!? How old are you?"

"Thirty six!" he snapped, "and older than you two!"

"Like I said, so you killed the West Side Boys in Sierra Leone in 2000, when you were, what? Seventeen? Joined 2 Para straight from primary school did you?"

I shook my head and walked out, hoping I could catch Jack and we could make good our escape run to the village, knock some doors - we knew these woods and fields and he didn't.

I came out of the croft and walked quickly knowing our hero didn't have shoes on. I was just about to start my run when I felt a pain in the back of my head, and I fell forward.

Next thing I was being dragged by my leg and I felt the cold painted concrete floor of the barn beneath me, then heard the door slam and clatter of the hasp flipping over onto the staple. He obviously slotted something into it as the door wouldn't open.

"Now just behave yourself Jim and everything will be fine," he paused as if in thought, "I'll tell Deana... hmmm... yeeeeeah, Deana has some decisions she needs to make..."

"Mac," I shouted out to him from the floor, my head hurting like a bitch.

"Deana!?" he shouted "Deana, you and I need to have a chat! DEANA?!"

I came round a bit later hearing them talking then her screaming my name and him shouting at her.

I was back up on my feet and hunting around the place desperately for a way of getting out and rescuing Jacinda, I was in love with that girl and had to save her from the armed man she was up against.

The mumbling I could just about hear was Jack's attempts at mind games with the twat.

"I'll go straight over and shoot him Deana!" I could hear him shout as they got closer to the barn, "do you want me that do you, want me to kill your brother, just 'cos you didn't want a little jig-a-jig? You'll have to live with that thought, your brother dead because you wouldn't open your legs for a British soldier?"