fredbassett | Fic, Crow on the Cradle, Part 1, Stephen/Ryan, Lester/Lyle, 18

Title : Crow on the Cradle, Part 1 of 15
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 18
Characters : Stephen/Ryan, Lester/Lyle, Cutter, Claudia, Abby, Connor, OCs.
Disclaimer : Not mine (except all OCs), no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Lyle’s mother is on the scent of a story and it looks increasingly like the ARC team aren’t the only ones with knowledge of the anomalies.
A/N : this is my first official Primeval Big Bang! With many thanks to

lukadreaming for incomparable beta work and for holding my paw throughout a very long writing process. The total word count is 51,277 and I will be posting in 15 parts.

They slipped quietly and quickly through the woodland. Their car was parked over a mile away at the Black Swan. If necessary, the landlord and several other people would confirm that they’d been in the back room all evening playing darts.

It had poured with rain most of the day so the thick mulch of autumn leaves was soft underfoot. It would be difficult to avoid leaving boot prints behind, but they were both wearing army surplus kit bought for cash several hundred miles away and it would all be ditched when they’d finished.

The wall loomed ahead of them in the darkness, three metres tall, topped with several strands of razor wire, encircling an estate of about 7,000 acres. Not quite as big as Longleat but not far off. They’d spent the last two weeks getting ready for this. Their way in was prepared, and all they had to do was brush away the concealing leaves and pull back the plywood cover they’d hidden under a layer of loose earth.

They had the entrance to the tunnel open in a matter of minutes.

Mole grinned in the darkness. Only his mouth and eyes showed behind the black balaclava but Ratty knew the old bugger hadn’t had this much fun since he’d been a tunneller in the road protests at Newbury. He cocked his head on one side, listening. She did the same.

Nothing.

Not even the bark of the dog fox that they’d heard most nights. The silence meant that they were ready to go.

Ratty stood back and waited. It was Mole’s tunnel so he’d go through first, same as he’d always insisted on being at the sharp end when they’d been digging it. Old habits died hard and he knew his business, so she was happy to let him take the lead where holes in the ground were concerned. He pulled a small Petzl head-torch from his pocket, settled the elastic strap around his balaclava and then dropped down into the vertical shaft and quickly disappeared. He wouldn’t turn the torch on until there was no risk of the light being seen and she’d follow his example.

She waited a few moments and then went after him, climbing two metres down the timber planks that shored up the soft earth. Mole had picked a spot where they wouldn’t encounter too many tree roots and Ratty had been pleasantly surprised by how easy the digging had been once they’d got past the stony layer in the first half-metre of ground. This sort of thing was new to her, but she was always up for learning something different. It made a change from running around the countryside with an aniseed drag to confuse the hounds and blowing hunting horns in the faces of the arrogant bastards who thought you couldn’t have a good day out unless it involved watching a pack of dogs rip a living creature to pieces.

The smell of the earth was warm and rich in her nostrils. The disguised plywood cover had kept out most of the rain, so although the floor of the tunnel was damp and sticky with mud she got through easily, turning the torch off before clambering out to join Mole on the other side of the wall, no more than four metres from their starting point.

They were in. Ratty brushed the mud off her black gloves and they quickly hauled the plywood back in place and kicked leaves over it again. A tangle of brambles concealed then from view. The chances of anyone patrolling this close to the perimeter weren’t high. From what she and Mole had observed, the security guards were more interested in the areas around the animal cages and rarely ventured this far out at night. They relied on the fact that their security system would alert them to any attempts to tamper with the wire on top of the walls, which is why they’d opted to go underneath the defences rather than over them.

Ratty sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was nervous and Mole would know it, but there was never any macho bullshit from the guy, she liked that about him. He was at least 15 years older than her and had been digging tunnels under protest camps while she was just a kid, yet he never patronised her.

The moon broke out from behind a gap in the thick cloud and illuminated his tobacco-stained teeth as he gave her another of his quick, reassuring grins. He’d done his job and got them inside the wall. Now it was up to her. She had a compass strapped to her wrist and used it to take a bearing through the beech wood. Tonight wouldn’t be a good night to get lost, especially not if they needed to make a hasty exit for any reason.

With Mole as her shadow, Ratty steered a course through the woodland. They would be able to keep under cover of the trees most of the way to the start of the animal enclosures and she knew which ones to avoid. The wolves didn’t give a toss about anyone coming near their area, neither did most of the carnivores, but the monkeys were far too easy to disturb. The macaques were noisy little buggers at the best of times and they’d start jumping around at the least provocation.

The first of the tall fences came into sight. Ratty paused a moment to get her bearings and then gave a quick nod. She knew where they were. Six months of shovelling animal shit here as a teenager had given her a good working knowledge of parts of the park, but she hadn’t often had a reason to come this far out, so she was relying on some out of date images taken off Google Earth. She was conscious of the fact that new enclosures had gone up since her time and after the satellite images had been taken, so there could easily be obstacles she was unaware of.

The first one to present itself was a long stretch of water, which glinted briefly in the moonlight before the gap in the clouds closed up. The three metre tall fencing told her that something was in the enclosure, but she didn’t know what. It could be anything from pelicans to water buffalo.

Ratty changed direction, skirting the artificial lake and staying well back from the fence. Mole didn’t ask any questions. They’d agreed from the outset that she was in charge of this part of the operation. An owl hooted in the trees but apart from that the inhabitants of the park appeared to be asleep. The rucksack containing her camera gear was a comforting weight on her back, a reminder her of what they were there for. She quickly fell into a routine, moving quickly from one patch of shadow to the next, stopping and listening for a few moments while Mole joined her, and then pressing on. They covered the ground quickly and were soon approaching a set of long, low hanger-like sheds. Ratty exchanged glances with Mole and nodded towards the structures. They’d be locked, she was sure of that, but they’d come equipped to deal with that sort of minor problem.

For the first time since they’d entered the grounds, Ratty could hear animal noises. The harsh cry of a large bird was muffled slightly by the corrugated iron of the large sheds, but it was still loud in the darkness. Ratty stiffened for a moment, then made a quick dash across close-mown grass to the rear of one of the buildings, jumping lightly over a gravel path so that the crunch of her boots on the stones wouldn’t give her presence away. Mole followed suit.

The cry came again and then something large slammed against the inside of the structure, rattling the corrugated iron and scraping against it with what sounded like claws. Ratty jumped violently. It sounded like whatever it was had decided to start head-butting the wall no more than a few metres away from her.

“What the fuck is that?” Mole hissed eyeing the shed dubiously.

Ratty shrugged and began to doubt the wisdom of breaking into that particular building, just in case whatever was making the noise was loose inside, rather than being in a pen. She gestured to her companion and started to work her way across the back of the building. An irate shriek from inside brought her to a halt again. It sounded like all hell was starting to break loose, or at the very least, something large and nasty-tempered had decided to pick a fight. The corrugated iron rattled alarmingly and a positive cacophony of sound started up inside.

Bloody hell, if any security guards were out and about, that racket would bring them running, Ratty thought, looking around quickly for any cover to shield them from prying eyes. A large oak tree a few metres away was about as good as it got, but the trunk was wide enough to provide some shadow while they waited to see if anyone was going to react to the noise.

Sure enough, a few moments later, she heard a voice shouting something on the other side of the shed and the sound of bolts being pulled back. Someone had clearly decided to investigate. Inside the building, the noise was getting worse and amidst the sound of irate squawking and scuffling, Ratty heard the sound of splintering wood.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” The voice came from inside the shed and sounded distinctly rattled.

“Shut the fucking door!” A second voice rose in alarm.

A moment later, Ratty heard the noise of a metal door being barged open and the scrabbling of paws of claws on the beaten earth as something made a dash for freedom.

A volley of startled curses told her that whatever it was had been successful. Metal clanged on metal as the two men obviously tried to close the door and bolt it again, but it sounded very much like something had decided to start head-butting the door again with considerable force. More swearing was followed by the sudden pounding of feet as a second creature succeeded in pushing past the two men. A triumphant squawk and a sudden yell of pain signalled another problem for the two security guards and in the scuffle that followed it sounded to Ratty that at least another couple of animals had got out in the resulting chaos.

“We’ve got a break-out!” a voice declared loudly, and Ratty heard the static crackle of a radio as someone answered. “Yeah, at least four of them, from the holding sheds… we need back-up and we need it now! Johnson’s hurt, one of the fuckers has taken a chunk out of his arm…”

More swearing told Ratty that Johnson wasn’t exactly happy about what had happened either. He was alternating moaning and cursing with demands for the other man to do something.

“They’re on their way,” his companion told him. “Let me look at that… Jesus Christ!”

“Nice bedside manner,” Mole murmured in Ratty’s ear. “Get your camera out. There might be some mileage in this.”

She shot him a quick grin. They’d have to make sure that they didn’t end up having a run-in with whatever had just attacked the guard, but by the sound of it, the animals had bolted, so a few shots of the injured man wouldn’t be a bad thing. Even if it only got evidence of a few Health and Safety violations it would be better than nothing, and they could always come back on a quieter night, provided no one caught on to what they were up to.

Ratty pulled the video camera out of her pack and switched it on. It would pick up sound as well, but she’d need to get closer. “Stay here,” she murmured to Mole before breaking cover and making a dash for the side of the building and working her way forwards.

She could hear sobs from the injured man now and his companion’s attempts to keep him calm while help arrived. A quick glance around the side of the building showed her that both men had their backs to her and she was able to shoot some film before the approach of a vehicle sent her back under cover.

A black Range Rover pulled up and amidst a flurry of slamming car doors a voice drawled, “What the fuck have you two clowns been playing at?” Ratty had spent a holiday with a friend in Houston and recognised the accent as being from Texas. The man sounded both irritated and unsympathetic.

“The birds were going berserk. I thought we ought to take a look,” the security guard said defensively, adding quickly, “Johnson’s hurt!”

“Don’t change the subject, Harris. I’ve called Frankie, she’s on her way. You were told to stay out of the shed, but you had to go rubber-necking, didn’t you?”

“Frankie’s a fucking vet!”

“Yeah, whatever. Get him back to the house while we clean up your mess. And if any of the birds get damaged, Mr Mason ain’t gonna be pleased.”

A sharp intake of breath told Ratty someone had hauled the unfortunate Johnson to his feet and a few moments later the slam of two car doors and a revving engine told her that the two men had no intention of hanging around.

“Get catchpoles and nets,” the Texan ordered. “I want those birds back and I want them alive. No way does anyone use live rounds on ‘em, they’re more valuable than you lot, got that?”

A chorus of assent greeted the man’s words.

Ratty cautiously edged her way back to the corner and went down on one knee, the lens of the video camera poking around the corner, angled upwards in the hope of capturing some useful images. She dared a quick peek and saw a man pull a hand-held radio out of one of the pockets of his jacket and thumb the switch.

“Ricky, it’s Dewar. Get the rest of the tranq guns from the store and meet me by the holding sheds. Harris is on his way back with Johnson. Tell Frankie I want him patched up here, no hospitals, understand? The boss will make it worth her while… yeah, Johnson ain’t exactly happy, but he’ll live. Pull the rest of the guys out of bed, those buggers can cover the ground and I need everyone we’ve got out here. All four are out.”

Oh shit, it was just their luck to have broken in on a night when something else seemed to have been determined to break out, Ratty thought, backing up slowly and carefully. The place was going to be swarming with security in a matter of minutes, so the sooner she made a tactical withdrawal with Mole the better.

“Time to go?” Mole asked quietly when she made it back to the oak tree.

She nodded. Much as she wanted to hang about and get the evidence they’d come for, on this occasion discretion was definitely the better part of valour and they’d have enough problem dodging the guards as it was, let alone avoiding whatever the hell had broken out. She’d heard birds mentioned, but even something the size of an ostrich wasn’t capable of taking a chunk out of someone’s arm. They had a kick like a mule and could give you a nasty peck, but Johnson, the injured security guard had been covered in blood when she’d seen him helped into the car, so it had been more than a peck.

“Be careful,” she muttered. “I don’t know what they’ve been keeping in there, but by the look of it, that bloke’s arm was laid open to the bone.”

Mole winced. “Nice. OK, while matey over there is waiting for his guns, let’s get the hell out of here and tidy up after us.”

The adrenaline surging through her system made Ratty jumpy and any noise had her looking around for cover as she struggled to get her bearings in the darkness with the aid of the compass and make their way back to the tunnel under the wall.

She knew there were at least ten members of the security team and for all she knew the call for back-up could have mobilised other workers as well. Speed was now imperative. A stretch of open ground lay between them and the next patch of undergrowth. They’d just have to be fast. Clutching the video camera tightly in her hand, Ratty took off with Mole behind her. He obviously kept himself in good shape as he was breathing no more heavily than she was.

Ratty was only a few paces from the small coppice of trees she was aiming for when a dark shape sprinted out towards her. The scream was out of her mouth before she could bite it back but somehow she kept hold of the camera, swinging it up defensively in front of her.

An even louder scream drowned out any noise she made. A powerful beak opened and lunged at her. For fuck’s sake, where the hell had they found an ostrich that size? The bloody thing was nearly three metres tall, towering over both her and Mole. A head almost as long as her forearm weaved around in front of her and struck at her face. She fell back, trying to scrabble away. The head was too big for an ostrich, way too big…

A yell from Mole distracted it and Ratty clambered to her feet.

“Run!” Mole ordered, sounding surprisingly calm for a man facing something that had very nearly succeeded in taking her face off.

Ratty didn’t need telling twice. She started running again, hoping Mole would follow her. She’d dropped the camera when the thing had lunged at her, but there was no way she was going back for it. The sound of her own breathing was harsh in her own ears as Ratty sprinted for the wall. She heard another yell, not Mole’s voice this time and knew they’d been spotted.

“They’re on to us,” Mole panted, drawing level with her.

She grunted in return and kept running. She could hear large feet hammering on the ground behind her and the breaking of twigs as something came barrelling through the undergrowth no more than a few paces behind them. Brambles caught at her clothing and Ratty felt her jeans rip and something snag at her skin, but she kept running. She could see the wall now, looming ahead of her out of the darkness, but what she didn’t know was how close to the tunnel they were and there was no way she could stop to look at the compass on her wrist.

Behind her, Mole gave a sudden grunt of pain and she heard the crack of breaking wood and something heavy hitting the ground. Ratty half-turned, still running. Mole was sprawled on his stomach with one of the birds standing over him. The powerful beak was open and it was poised to strike at him. She whirled around, shrugging the rucksack off her shoulders and grabbed one of the straps, swinging the bag at the creature. It struck out at her instead and the curved tip of the heavy beak succeeded in dragging the rucksack out of her hand, but at least it gave Mole chance to crawl away and drag himself to his feet.

Blood was dripping from a gash on his forehead. Mole dashed it away from his eyes and looked around for a weapon. A fallen branch was too rotten to make an effective club, but it did act as another distraction when he poked it in the creature’s face.

“Go!” Mole’s voice still sounded unnaturally calm and Ratty wondered how the hell he managed it. She’d just come very close to pissing herself with fright.

“Not without you!”

“Just fucking run and I’ll be behind you!”

“Get down!” yelled another voice. “On the ground, now!”

The security guards were close enough to see them now and Ratty heard the click of a rifle bolt being drawn back.

“No fucking chance!” Mole muttered. He chucked the rest of the piece of wood in his hand at the bird, grabbed Ratty’s sleeve and started to run. An irate shriek from their assailant told her that their exit strategy hadn’t met with the bird’s approval.

The wall was only metres away now but Ratty couldn’t see the marker she’d been aiming for, a lone beech tree with an enormous bole. Without that they wouldn’t find the tunnel. She stared around desperately then suddenly pitched forward, her foot caught by a trailing bramble. She rolled, trying to come up on her knees but something hard hit her shoulder and knocked her back down.

A cry of pain told her that something had caught up with Mole as well. Her hands scratched at the leaf mould for something to throw, but came up empty. She rolled and rolled again as a vicious beak stabbed the ground next to her. There were two of the bloody things now and one of them looked like it was tearing at Mole, making a sort of growling noise that sounded more like a wolf than a bird. She kicked out with one booted foot, yelling loudly.

The terrible head swivelled towards her and a crest of feathers on the bird’s head rose up as it stared at her. The moon chose that moment to come out from behind the clouds again leaving Ratty staring up into a pair of large, angry eyes.

The bird opened its beak and let out a hoarse cry, lunging forward, beak open…

Ratty’s bladder chose that particular moment to let her down to the accompaniment of another cry of pain from Mole.

Her last thought was that she still didn’t know what the hell was trying to kill her.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

thelibraniniquity

Ooh! Very interesting start.

From:

Fic, Crow on the Cradle, Part 1, Stephen/Ryan, Lester/Lyle, 18

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