Echoes of The Past

  ~ Island – pacific ~

   

  The soldier who’d inspected the plane and discovered the countdown timer ticking down with ten seconds to go, was engulfed in a gigantic ball of flame before he managed to take five steps. As for Tom and the others, those in front of Tom stumbled a little as the shockwave washed over them, but Tom and those with him weren’t as lucky. He got flung across the tarmac, scorching heat searing through his jeans and shirt into his body. It took all his will not to attempt a morph in front of all these people. He twisted in the air managing to land in a roll that absorbed most of the impact, yet he still smacked his head on the solid ground with a resounding crack, seeing stars.

  His ears were ringing as he managed to sit up awkwardly and found himself staring down the runway towards the ocean. The men guarding him had not fared as well as he and were lying motionless amongst bits of the Cessna. Once his mind settled he felt himself being hauled up to his feet roughly, and shaken angrily.

  ‘The only reason I’m not going to kill you right now is-’ the guy never got to finish his sentence for at that very minute the first explosions began. Tom had set the timers lower and lower as he neared the start of the runway to keep up with those further back. It was an awe inspiring sight to behold. Huge tongues of flames shot out from the concrete parking spaces onto the main runway from where Tom had set his bombs, in succession with pauses in between each explosion. The explosions were accompanied by deafening booms. Bits of wing and plane tails spun into the air, arcing high, some curving dangerously low to the ground, flying across the surface like deadly frisbees.

   Giving and angry bellow of disbelief the man holding Tom dragged him back towards the complex making it as rough and painful as possible, whilst radioing rapidly into his microphone, calling for back up. No sooner had he ended his conversation, three armed jeeps span out onto the runway and accelerated towards the end to try and prevent any more planes from exploding. A few minutes later a sleek black quad bike towing a trailer roared past Tom, carrying a large group of armed men, their weapons dripping menace. It skidded to a rubber-burning halt halfway along the runway and the men sprang out as one, their movements perfectly synchronised and precise, they sprinted off towards the planes on the jungle side where Julia and Stan had been setting their timers to check the planes.

  Tom winced inwardly for he knew what was about to happen. No sooner than the first man arrived at his plane, than simultaneously the entire jungle side erupted furiously. Huge clouds of condensed orange fire and gas burst free from the ground ripping towards the sky, the heat was so intense it caused the nearby vegetation to spontaneously explode in giant flames that engulfed whole trees. The pilots who had run to check on their planes hadn’t had a chance, they were obliterated immediately.

  With an angry jerk, his captor led Tom, not to the prison, but to the tower standing in the middle of the complex. Puzzled by this, Tom asked the guy why he wasn’t going to the prison. If the guard was surprised that Tom knew there was a prison he hid it well.

  ‘I have special orders for you. The boss is very upset with what you’ve done and wants to punish you... personally.’ Tom couldn’t suppress a fearful shudder. It sounded extremely bleak. He held on to the fact he was not unarmed, he could still morph if the situation got really dire. Reaching the tower the guard opened an iron door, which creaked on rusty hinging and flung Tom inside.

  Behind him the door clanged shut with an ominous echoing ring. In front of him were a set of twisting stairs that curled around a tall concrete pillar. Knowing the door would have been locked, Tom was left with no choice other than to walk up the stairs. This was such a cruel joke. They were forcing him to walk unguarded and un-cuffed to what was sure to be his own death. At last he reached the top. He was on a landing that held one door.

  Taking a deep breath he reached out and turned the handle. He stepped into a cool office and was met with a breathtaking view of the bay and the ocean, that was disturbed slightly by the orange flickering of what was left of the fire the soldiers had managed to contain. Before him were two men, one was a slightly chubby man with plain brown hair and an ordinary face. Ben was sneering at Tom in a very unpleasant manner, which seemed to twist his face oddly out of proportion. The other man was tall, slim, a shock of white blonde hair hung about his head like a lion’s mane. He had his back to Tom and was studying the damage which he’d caused. He seemed to radiate power and authority like no-one else he’d met in his life before. Tom couldn’t help himself.

  ‘Pretty fireworks display, don’t you two gentlemen think?’ he smirked.

  ‘Why you little shit, I’ll teach you some manners,’ spat Ben as he reached for his gun. The man staring out the window made the barest movement with his hand, but it was enough to still Ben, who reluctantly replaced his weapon. Turning slowly, so he didn’t crease his dark suit, the man faced Tom, studying him closely. Tom saw how the man’s eyes lit up in understanding as he took in Tom. A quiet smile broke out on his slim face as he nodded to himself, obviously pleased by what he saw, his narrow eyebrows arching, one higher than the other, as he made his way around the table till he was standing in front of Tom.

  ‘My name is Mathew Smith.’ He paused as if thinking about something. ‘I’ll be entirely honest with you lad,’ here he paced around his office, ‘your little “party” out there might be pretty but it sure as hell caused me a lot of inconvenience. Do you know what I do with people who I consider a nuisance?’ He had a quiet voice, though it held all the menace of a snake and definitely contained the promise of a very deadly bite; his eyes appeared like reptilian slits. As he raised his arm to brush his brow, his sleeve slipped back revealing a dragon tattoo engraved on his wrist.

  ‘Umm, does my answer decide my punishment? Cause if it does then I’d say you give them a free ride off this hell hole you call and island, far away from your insane plan to destroy the world.’ He hoped he hadn’t pushed it and waited for the blow. Instead Smith laughed loudly.

  ‘I like you Tom. You have a great fighting spirit. You remind me of myself when I was young. Normally your body would be riddled with bullets for the way you just spoke to me. Consider yourself lucky. And I must say, it really is your lucky day, ordinarily I’d have you slowly fed to the sharks that like to inhabit a particular area just outside the coral atoll. It’s rather painful I’ve been told.’

  ‘So why then do I receive special treatment, and who told you this, seeing as far as I’m concerned the term “fed” means you die?’ Tom was genuinely puzzled by why he was being spared, and how did Smith know his name?

  ‘Well, what I just described is no way for a father to treat his son now is it?’

  ***

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