Hornet's Nest Ch. 08

All the yells, swearing, and grappling right next to me, I was instead aware of the disciplined voices and gunfire outside the room, getting nearer. We seemed to be winning, because the remaining men were panicking. All I remember from that moment was that people stopped looking like people. They became shapes. I was losing my fucking mind.

So when a blur collided with me, I attacked it. It was Tyler's barking voice. It was Tyler's face. I was so confused, I didn't understand why he was going for me. I thought we were on the same side. His hand clamped around my throat, and even as I tried to fight it he knocked my legs out from beneath me and slammed me to the floor.

I tried to get up but he threw his body across me, slamming me down a second time.

More figures poured in the door. They weren't appearing silhouettes from my crazed mind. They were police, in full black body armour. They yelled.

Mid-fight, Darren dropped to his knees and put his hands on his head. The pistol in Violet's hands clattered to the floor as she copied.

The men who didn't react fast enough were mowed down with that rattling, repetitive fire.

If Tyler hadn't taken me down, I'd have been shot.

"Stop, kid," he wheezed in my ear. His fists were clenched in my clothing and I felt his forehead against my cheek. "Just like your fucking dad." His breaths were ragged and pained. I'd winded him.

"Sörensen," a voice said. There were still faint sounds ringing from elsewhere in the building. I tilted my head to try and see with Tyler's weight pinning me down.

Darren got to his feet, a panting and unkempt mess. "You're late," he said, his voice lacking any of its usual power.

"Who opened fire in here?" The helmet looked towards Violet, the gun at her knees.

"She's with us," Darren replied.

Three of Driscoll's men were also on their knees. An officer moved into place behind one, and another moved towards Tyler and I. Tyler lifted himself, but I mustn't have appeared calm because a gun was pointed at me.

"No," Tyler said, putting a hand over the end of the muzzle and shoving it away. "It's the fucking kid."

I don't know what was going through the authority's heads, what the mess in that room looked like. My eyes moved across the bodies on the floor, not all of them dead. The blood finally reached my nose. Bile rose up in my throat. My state was seeping out of me, reality was coming back. I was cold and trembling.

"Where is Driscoll?" the lead officer asked Darren.

He pointed to the figure that had propped itself up against a wall. His shirt was soaked red, but he was still alive. He shook his head, surveying the carnage with a blank expression.

"Well done, Darren."

"No. This was all her."

Violet cautiously got to her feet, shifting her eyes over the officers. She stepped up beside Darren and gave Driscoll an empty look.

His head continued to shake, then he laughed. It was high pitched with disbelief. He gasped in a pained breath. "You're gonna go far, lass."

"Where are my parents?"

"Dead for all I care."

She glared at him, the fucking bastard managed to smirk.

"They were here, lass. These cunts probably shot them."

"Who's here?" the lead officer asked. "How many more hostages?"

Driscoll shrugged like a prick.

Darren picked a pistol off the floor. He gave it a nonchalant turn in his hands, then stepped forward.

"Sörensen-" the officer started.

He unloaded two shots into Driscoll's face. The body jolted before going limp.

"Sörensen!"

I winced and looked away.

"He died in the crossfire," Darren snapped. Gun muzzles pointed in his direction.

"Yeah, convenient, huh?!"

"You want to put him in prison, so his insiders get him out again, and he's back to attacking my family?"

"Sörensen-"

"He's a fucking madman!"

The lead officer ripped his headgear off, looking up to the ceiling as if to ask the heavens, 'why me?'

"You're all madmen Sörensen, the fuckin' lot of ya! Drop it!"

Darren glared.

"Drop it!"

He let the pistol slip from his hand to the floor.

"Now come 'ere!"

He held his hands up. "You're gonna take me?"

"For that fuckin' performance, yes."

An officer stepped forward to grab Darren's arm, but he backed off as though he'd resist. They bristled again, keeping their firearms pointed at him, shifting weight from foot to foot. One of them spoke into a radio.

"Sörensen," the lead warned again.

Tyler's washed-out voice pierced into the moment, like an exhausted sigh. "Darren, calm your tits."

Tyler wasn't okay. The left side of his shirt was clinging to his body. I finally staggered to my feet and exchanged a glance with Violet. She was panicked, filled with a state I recognised. She looked like she'd bolt and run at any moment. Her eyes flicked between Darren and the police.

Darren tried to step towards Tyler, but the nearest officer grabbed his arm. He barked and swore, and tried to wrestle free.

"Darren," Tyler said again. "Stop."

Violet stepped away from them. "What's going on? What are you doing?"

The officers barked at Darren in return as they restrained him, their efforts divided between watching the remaining men in the room and dealing with his behaviour. I didn't know what to do.

The eyes behind the visor of a helmet were looking at me. "How bad is it?"

I blinked. "What?"

The head gave a downwards nod.

I ran cold as I saw my hoodie sticking to my ribs. I'd been shot. I couldn't feel it. Was there a bullet in me? The shock washed over me in a dizzy rush and I took a staggering step back. I couldn't even panic, something told me it was futile.

Violet bolted over to me.

"Move," the officer growled.

I don't know what happened. I don't know why Violet flipped. She was shoved away from me, but her tension burst out, and she lunged back. The officer staggered and swore. After a single surging moment, they were wrestling. She swung a punch that glanced off his helmet.

"For fucksake!" the lead officer roared.

I tried to grab her, and stop her. Too late. The rifle smacked across her face. Muzzles were pointed at her, another restrained her. She shrieked out something incoherent. Shock was numbing my ears.

Hands grabbed at me and pushed me towards the door. One of them spoke into the radio again, talking about injuries, ordering a thorough search of the building.

"Pressure," a voice said. "Put pressure on it."

I clasped a hand over my ribs. Hot blood smeared my palm from the fabric. I was feeling pain now, a raw stinging, but only on the surface. My mind was blank, I couldn't think anything. I was barely aware of Violet's shouting behind me, and Darren's booming voice.

I might as well have been unconscious because I entered the most unresponsive state I'd ever been in.

The short journey through the corridors and down the stairs was unreal. A few more bodies littered the way. There were bits of red everywhere. In one room five more men were on their knees, hands on their heads.

It looked like... warfare.

I just focused on walking.

The sunlight was bright outside. Police were crawling everywhere, chaos and commotion from every angle. They'd performed a full raid on the building.

I was separated from everyone. I didn't even know where Tyler went. At first, they sat me in the back of a van with a blanket draped over my shoulders. I was left for at least a minute, wondering what was happening, how much blood I was losing. Whoever was watching over me switched around, then I was rushed to an ambulance.

The man thanked me for being so calm, and kept saying I'd be okay. Hands directed me everywhere, faces and eyes of paramedics practised in a calm but forceful manner of their duty. I was quite biddable. I don't think I could have been anything other than that deadpan state if I tried. I was going to hospital with a gunshot wound. Okay. Shit happens.

---

Violet

They didn't listen to me.

Everything boiled up into an explosion. I lost control of myself. I told them they had to find my parents, not to kill them, they weren't working for Driscoll.

Shouted, more like.

They told me to shut up, to remain silent, and tried to handcuff me. Every time I struggled they got rougher. I knocked someone's helmet from their head, kicked off another's stomach while my shoulders were pinned against one's chest. I lost the scrambling wrestle, landing on my front on the floor with a kneepad digging into my spine.

They yelled at me, and Darren yelled at them.

They cuffed him as well. Why? They came to rescue him, they knew who he was. But they were arresting him.

And me. They were taking me. They'd already taken David and Tyler.

I couldn't stop fighting it. If I could just get out of their grip, I could run.

Animalistic mistakes.

I'm not sure how much force they were allowed to exert, but when a rifle butt cracked across my head, I should've only been thankful that they didn't shoot me.

I was dragged outside with Darren, perfectly conscious but with a splitting headache, and both of us were marched towards a van. Our escort was briefly stopped by more officers, who argued about what was going on while the ones gripping our arms defended themselves.

Shooting the suspect dead in front of them. Assaulting an officer.

We were shoved into the back of the van, and the doors slammed shut. I swallowed over my panic and looked at Darren opposite me. His eyes closed and he thudded his head back against the metal.

How did David phrase this? Done fucked it up.

*

They took everything I shouldn't need off me. Everything in my pockets, and my jacket. They found the flip knife. I was in even more shit. It was put into a separate plastic sealy bag, then I was put into a holding cell.

That cell was my nightmare. Narrow and claustrophobic. Floor, walls, and ceiling all the same white. I sat myself on the bench and buried my head into my hands. I was in pain. My face hurt. I had a cut from my temple, down my cheek, and it was swollen.

I hurt inside, too. Everything was wrong. David was hurt. I might've killed my parents. I was probably going to prison. Life as I knew it was over.

I was exhausted. I was hungry. I couldn't even cry. It was there, in my throat, in my nose, but no tears came.

I don't know if there was ever a time where I felt worse. In that moment, as far as I was concerned, I had nothing.

Scenes replayed in my mind. It wasn't the first time I'd felt that recoil in my hands. Mum had trained me. Yet all I wished was that I was a better shot. That I had actually killed Driscoll. Then, maybe, none of this would be happening.

I curled up on the bench, buried my head into my arms, and passed out.

*

I slept all through that night, until afternoon the next day. Nobody came in to wake me, or if they tried, they didn't succeed. Was it neglect? Leaving me there to rot?

I came to at one point, aching and stiff, with a dead arm. In my drowsy state I pulled my top off, scrunching it up to use as a makeshift pillow, then I was out again.

The door opening startled me to consciousness the second time. My body bolted sharply awake in typical fashion, while my mind took a little longer.

Darren stepped into the room, and the door shut behind him. He almost looked sinister. There was darkness around his eyes from lack of sleep, and the shadows from his heavy brow enhanced it. To put it less dramatically, he looked like shit. He took one look at me, then averted his gaze to the floor.

I swung my legs over the side of the bench and pulled my top on. I will always wonder why a bikini is seen as decent, and a bra isn't.

"What's going on?"

"Getting you out of here," he replied.

I rubbed my eyes, then looked back at him. "What? What's going on?"

"They're letting it slide."

"What?"

"Everything."

I tilted my head, curled my lip. "What?"

"You need to come and make a statement." He perched on the bench beside me, and his eyes searched mine to make sure he had my attention. "For simplicity's sake, you didn't fire a single shot in that room."

"What? No, I-"

"No."

"What? You're taking the blame?"

"No. There's no investigation into specifics. Police reacted to a threat. We were fired at, that is all."

"Driscoll?"

"He would've died before reaching hospital. They're letting it slide." He spoke in his business voice. It was unsettling. "Now, the knife."

"Err."

"I gave it to you. It belongs to me."

I frowned at him. "What's going to happen to you?"

"Nothing."

"Why?"

He smiled as if it hurt his face. "Perhaps fortunately in this situation, I'm one of the government's pets."

I stared at him for a long second. I'd done it. I'd climbed the ladder.

"Okay," I finally replied.

"The police have successfully shut down an underground operation. They're quite content. There's no need for any extra work for them." He got to his feet and knocked on the door. I followed him out to make my statement.

I was led to a room by a sandy-haired man called Lawrence, who was apparently my lawyer. He told me exactly what to say. My statement covered details of how I had been the owner of the phone tracked, my involvement in everything, and an explanation of what happened at the building. Driscoll died in the crossfire.

And then it was over. Darren and I were just dumped outside the station, stranded in the middle of London. My phone was dead. Darren had literally nothing on him. All we had was Lawrence. He and Darren walked towards a car, so I followed.

They didn't sound happy with each other. Lawrence's voice carried on the breeze from in front. "... Digging up this fucking case again."

"Digging up?" Darren repeated. "I'm sorry, have all these events been false?"

Lawrence unlocked the car and gave me a look, but his words weren't directed at me. "You seem to have a habit of getting involved with the wrong company."

Darren snorted. "I don't see it that way."

I got into the backseat and kept my mouth shut.

"You wanted a Driscoll, you got a Driscoll," Darren said.

Lawrence let out a loud sigh. I didn't think he was a lawyer. Something undercover, more like. "There's one left now. They're a dying breed."

"Good. What hospital are Ty and David in?"

"I don't know yet. Just get you home, and I'll call you."

"No, my fucking car."

"What?"

"It's left in the middle of nowhere."

Lawrence drove us out of London and located the street. Darren's car was right where he'd parked it, and hadn't been broken into. Lucky, I guess. He got out and beckoned for me to follow, so I did, tossing a final glance at Lawrence, who barely made eye contact with me.

I stayed silent and simply tagged along behind Darren, worried that saying the wrong thing might piss him off and get me abandoned on the street. He sat himself behind the wheel and I cautiously got into the passenger side.

For a minute, there was silence. Darren leant back in his seat and closed his eyes. If he'd had some guard up around Lawrence, it disintegrated now, into exhaustion. My gaze shifted around, from him, out the windscreen, out the side window. I gave an awkward fidget.

He sat forward to lean against the wheel, massaged his brow, then held a hand out. "Would you pass me..."

Oh, right. I opened the glovebox and handed his wallet and phone over.

"Thank you."

He checked through his phone and there was another minute of silence. When the engine started it almost made me jump.

He drove himself home, taking me with him.

The entire drive was silence.

*

It was evening when we passed the gates and crunched over the gravel. My most prominent thought was that I was hungry. My stomach felt like a hole where innards were supposed to be. Amongst our silence, we also didn't look at each other. He parked and I got out first, but let him go ahead of me to open the front door.

I figured he was just keeping me with him because it wasn't particularly moral to dump me off on the street. He'd pawn me off on Amelia and Zack as soon as possible. I dawdled with taking my boots off in the foyer. Nothing seemed to mean anything at that point, and I saw no reason to hurry with my useless existence. So I almost startled when I looked up and saw him stood there, staring, like he'd been waiting for me to notice him.

"I'm going to shower."

"Okay, err. Can I... make some food?"

"Yes, take whatever you want, whatever's there. Don't make anything for me. I'm not hungry."

He disappeared upstairs and I found my way to the kitchen.

I think it was about an hour until he came downstairs again. I'd washed up and put away everything I'd used - I didn't leave a trace of my presence. I hoped sitting on the sofa and watching the TV wouldn't be taken as rude. I'd hide silently in a corner if he wanted it, and keep out of his way.

He passed the lounge into the kitchen, not giving me any looks or saying anything. His voice sounded out and I looked in its direction, but he came into view on the phone.

"Yes, ask Lawrence... No... No. Not really... Yes, she's here with me... Yes, I'm fine."

I was pretty sure it was Amelia. He moved back into the kitchen and kept talking for a while longer. When he re-appeared, he had a bottle of wine and a glass in his hand. He sat the opposite end of the sofa to me, poured himself a glass, and drained it. Then a second one. And drained that too.

He was gonna get pissed. I guess we all have our methods.

Once he was on the third glass, the silence was finally bothering me.

"Darren, I'm... I'm really sorry. About everything."

"I'll let you know if I'm angry once I've had time to think about it."

"... You're not thinking now?"

He took another sip of his glass. "Nope."

I snorted and finally looked in his direction. "Are you gonna have the whole bottle?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"You want some?"

"No thanks."

He finished the third glass and poured himself a fourth.

"Don't worry about it," he said after the pause. "I wanted to thank you for what you did."

I picked dirt from beneath a thumbnail with the nail of the opposite thumb. "I wasn't fast enough. He still shot Tyler."

"Yes, but Tyler moved. Could've been worse." He took another sip. "Did you have the gun on you the whole time?"

"Zack gave it to me."

He frowned into the depths of his glass. "Right."

The TV was simply a collection of moving images, where my ears didn't process the sounds. "Why did you pick David?"

"Because Tyler moved."

His response was sharp and fast. I almost wondered if it was some sort of sarcasm. Honestly, when I look back, I have no idea why I ever asked. My moral compass was extremely fucked up.

"If the worst came to it," Darren continued, "David still has his life to live." He gave me a curious look, as if also wondering why I found his decision so hard to understand. "So once again, thank you. For potentially saving Tyler's life."

"You're a horrible actor," I said. "All you had to do was keep Driscoll busy, keep him talking. Just go along with his stupid business deal. Nothing was gonna matter when the cops came. You pissed him off. You nearly fucked everything up."

Darren smirked and poured himself his fifth glass. Sweet Jesus, I wanted to tell him to stop. "Yes. I lost my temper. I think I might have sunk to the lowest I've ever been."

I stared at the TV and didn't reply.

He let out a deep sigh and massaged his brow. "I don't know why I shot him."

"Because he was a massive cunt?"

"Do you have any idea what his family has been doing to me, since I was about your age?" He downed the glass alarmingly fast, but didn't immediately reach for the bottle to ready his next. "I think I ruined a chance at some answers."

"What answers?"

He shook his head, hand touching at his brow again. "I'd have to start at the beginning, and I'm not in the mood. I had this stupid idea, going in there, that maybe, we would be having some sort of personal conversation. Of course not. It was just business."