DISCLAIMER: Arrow Child and the Amazon Diaspora Story Universe are the sole intellectual property of Patrick O’Callaghan A.K.A. ShadowedSin. Any reproduction or posting of this work anywhere outside of this blog without the author’s permission is prohibited.
Once again Liam took to a brisk pace as he set out for his car. The docks were a boring place anyway. As he strolled towards his parking spot ideas flung wildly in his brain. Plans were being laid for his upcoming review and his upcoming payment. The boss had always said Liam was good worker. He had offed the right people and had provided the necessary bombs for key attacks. Whatever, the boss had planned Liam had partaken in it rightly so he was owed a due payment. So perhaps he would ask for something special.
The walk ended without much happening. Walking past the long row of warehouses and loading equipment he pulled back the cut he had made in the fence earlier that night. A few yards away hidden in the shadow of one of the buildings was his Audi. A silvery creation bought out of italy the year before. With all the new electronic toys he could stuff in it with his payment. The car was also armor reinforced and the tires were kevlar laden. It was overall a miniature tank made to look pretty.
Getting in and gearing up the car, he watched as the thing notified him with an annoying blink that he was located somewhere in County Dublin. Liam took a moment to lean back and readjust his seat as the headlights turned on to illuminate the nothing that stood before him. Empty space, deserted. Everything was silent. That meant that deal had gone well.
Once upon the road, Liam spent the several untold minutes heading back to a safe house in the northern borders of the city. He was tired, and well he wanted to sleep. Liam took a swig of coffee as his eyes drooped. A few members of the Irish Police were standing on a street corner talking in the aging night as he slowly passed by. Good thing they were complacent. Members of the Police or “Guards” had usually been a bit uppity. Something about bombs and killing children. When the new order ever comes, I’ll spit on their faces. The Irishman’s sentiment was borderline Irish Republican Army. Though he didn’t share the near obsessive insane fixation with uniting the Island as his former comrades did he did hate protestants. Liam even partook in confession when it fitted him of course that was usually when he was drunk.
The safe house was set on a plot of land surrounded by dull grey high walls. Inside the glass of the windows was reinforced and supposedly bullet proof. Liam put little faith in them. His faith fell upon his own ability and the weapons he carried with him. His fingers were cold. Winter was still in the air. Cold grasping numbness climbed his arm as he fought to find the keys in his pocket. The truth was his mind was elsewhere. Thinking of soft wanton amber eyes that were denied to him.
The door protested little as he used the key to open the locks. A minute later he was inside and redoing the locks to prep the place for his oncoming bout with sleep. When one lived in a country where the police ran random checkpoints with heavy machine guns you learned to be careful. The last lock was in place when Liam turned around and began to look for some food. Usually he would go to small local pub or diner. However, at this point in his life Liam found public walking to be a hazard to his life. Recently he had pissed off several important men and women and they were still gunning for his head.
Finding some food in the kitchen he found a pot and set it down upon the burner. The safe house was more of a place of convenience than actual living. It was a small cottage out in the country side with a small bunker built into the foundation. If the Army came a calling the former soldier would hunker down and probably die in a hellfire of bullets. But he would take a few of them with him. The small cottage had perhaps one or two rooms. Walking into the bathroom he cleaned up before heading towards the bedroom. By the bed on a stand he found the rosary beads he had left. Taking them in his hand he began to start his prayers.
After several minutes of prayer the retired Army man kick off his shoes and settled into his bed. Little dreams came to him that night as the container was loaded and prepared. All of the captives were gathered up Those that refused to do as ordered were beaten till they were unconscious or obeyed. The captors didn’t give a shit for their existence. The bloodied inked skin of one teens was nearly bruised enough that it was nothing but splotches of purple and blue. Jimmy stopped the strongmen only when the captives’ lives were threatened.
“Barcodes or RFID tags would have made shite easier,” Jimmy said. Violence prevailed upon the night as Liam slept soundly like an altar boy away from the prying eyes of the priest. Jimmy’s hands tightened around the arm of one girl as he as he smashed his fist into her face. The one who had spoke out against Liam earlier watched in horror. She like many present had been taken from American, or even Ireland itself. They all members of a scattered people calling themselves the Stormcrow. And as her sister was broken before her eyes the girl sent a silent prayer to the Spirits.
“Shu-” she tried to utter a word, but one of the strong men caught her. He took his boot and kick her hard in the stomach. The violence was result of the captive’s refusal to move and thus resulted in a brutal crack down. As the so called members of the IRA beaten youth near death the young girl who stood out against the Armymen rolled onto her side. Sweat and blood mixed with the filth of the floor. The night of hell continued on as the Irishmen slept in his safe room. The day came and both sides were ready.
Arrow Child, A Net Novel By ShadowedSin 