Read Online The Last Sunset by Bob Atkinson - Free Book Online Page A

their
surroundings.
    “Get yer ass outtae ma face,” growled Rae.
    “Aw, Ah wondered where the draught was coming
from.” Ferguson rose gingerly to his feet. “What is the story here, by the way?
Where are we?”
    “Aw no…” Macsorley’s voice was full of anguish.
“There’s dung on ma clothes. This floor is all covered with dung. What is going
on here?”
    “There’s a horse in here with us!” Ferguson cried,
his voice edged with panic.
    “Look, sharrup the lot o’ yez!” yelled the
corporal. “It’s no’ a horse, it’s a cow. Now gerra grip of yerselves ’til we
find out what the score is.”
    “Aw naw, Ah’m all covered in cow dung.”
    “Where the hell are we…?” Macmillan murmured.
The walls of the byre consisted of rough, dry-stone blocks, the low sloping
ceiling of dried bracken. Its windows were little more than vertical slits.
    “Looks like we’re in some kindae prison,”
Ferguson observed, casting an experienced eye around him.
    “And what’s Morag been jailed for? Shitting
without a permit?”
    “Ah wouldnae be surprised,” grumbled Macsorley.
    Macmillan indicated the weapons and ammunition
at their feet. “Well, we’re definitely not in prison.” He gave Rae a long
withering look. “Not yet, anyway.”
    “Aw Gawd, that’s right,” Ferguson remembered. He
backed away from his friend. “Aw hell, you’ve done some daft things in the
past, but you’ve really screwed it up this time. You’re gonnae get us all
shot.”
    “It wasnae ma fault,” the big man cried, “you
saw what happened. Ah wasnae aiming at him, Ah was aiming at yon… yon…”
    “And what about that explosion in the sky?”
Macsorley put in, dabbing straw at his uniform. “What the hell was all that
about?”
    The images were coming back to them now in
sporadic bursts.
    As Macmillan retrieved his rifle he became aware
of a faint glow edging a portion of the wall to his left. He realised he was
looking at a doorway, concealed behind a shabby curtain. He snapped into
action.
    “Mac, put one up the spout, keep the safety on.
Rae, Fergie, stay here ’til we recce this.” He nodded at Macsorley, who’d moved
to cover the exit. “Follow me through, okay?”
    Cautiously the non-commissioned officer probed
the makeshift curtain with the point of his rifle, before pushing the material
to one side. The faint glow became a dull reddish light, and for the second
time that day he smelt the aromatic tang of peat smoke.
    The cow smelt it too and waddled towards the
opening. Rae and Ferguson jumped out of its way as if they’d been ambushed by a
predator. Macmillan allowed the cow to squeeze through the doorway and then
followed on behind.
    Man and beast emerged together into the smoky
depths of what appeared to be another, larger cattle shed. To his left he could
see daylight through a small window and around the edges of a badly-fitting
door. In the middle of the floor a smouldering fire gave off equal amounts of
smoke and flame. As Macmillan’s eyes adjusted to the gloom he could make out
pieces of rudimentary furniture. From the blackened rafters hung an assortment
of fish and game, curing naturally in the sweet smoky air.
    The building appeared to be uninhabited. The cow
knew differently, however. Lowing softly, it lumbered towards a little recess
at the far end of the building, where Macmillan could hear hushed voices
shooing the animal away.
    “On your feet, whoever’s there!” he yelled.
    Immediately the whispering ceased.
    “Come on, out with ye!” Macmillan barked, his
rifle at the ready.
    Still there was no movement from the shadows, other
than the contented swishing of the cow’s tail. Macsorley added his voice then,
in words that were lost on his corporal. Moments later four nervous figures
began to emerge into the smouldering glow of the peat flame, clinging together
like hinds cornered by wolves. The cow moved forward with them, as though it
too were part of the family group.
    Leading the