A/N: Yay! I got my chapters titled, because I decided they were pretty dull
without titles. I also re-rated the story PG-13-sorry guys, but after this
chapter I think you'll know why I rated it that way.
This chapter is written a bit differently from the first two, and you will soon see why. Since I can't use eclipses (three little dots in a row, is that what you call them?) on this site, I use dashes instead, so just bear with me on that part. Without further ado I give you-Chapter 3!
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CHAPTER 3
"G'night Mum. I love you. See you in the morning." But Ella wouldn't see her Mum in the morning. That was the last time Ella MacCallin ever said those words.
Amazing how little she knew then.
"G'night Ella." Helen MacCallin planted a soft kiss on her daughter's forehead. She leaned in closer to Ella. "You should think about what you want to do for your birthday. It's only a few weeks away."
"Ok, Mum. I will." Ella smiled broadly as she said this. She knew Mum and Dad would give her the moon if she asked for it.
"Yeah, maybe we'll take you riding on the back of a garbage truck for your birthday," Dad joked, also coming in to kiss Ella good night.
"Da-ad," groaned Ella, but she was giggling. Helen giggled too, and soon, all three of them were doubled up in laughter, clean, pure laughter that cleanses your soul of any grief. How long it would be until Ella and her dad would laugh again.
"Well, good night, sweetheart. I'll make you popovers for breakfast tomorrow." Dad could actually cook as well as Mum. His popovers were the specialty of the house.
Ella's father kissed her, and both parents crept out of her room and closed the door, leaving Ella to visit Dreamland for several happy hours before it was all over.
Helen and Sean tiptoed down the long hallway and into their master suite. They changed into their pajamas, and both brushed their teeth. Sean climbed into the high bed and picked up his book, but Helen stood by her dresser for a while, looking at new and old snapshots. There was her, Sean, and Ella about a year ago, in Dublin on holiday. There was her, Sean, and Ella as a little girl. There was a picture of her and Sean's wedding day. And there-Helen shut her eyes, but forced them open again. This was the hardest picture of all to look at. There was the whole gang, all of them grinning. They were at a picnic of some kind. Helen sighed. Ryan had his arm around her in the picture. God how she missed him-
Would I still be here if none of it happened? Helen thought to herself. No, definitely not. Certainly not. No Sean, no Ella. She shuddered. Helen couldn't imagine life without the two people she loved most-
"Did you deadbolt the doors?" Sean muttered from the other side of the room, pulling her out of her reverie.
Helen jerked around. "I think I did." She shrugged unconcernedly. "It doesn't really matter."
"You can't be too careful these days," Sean mumbled. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He set down his book and sleepily shuffled into the hall. He was back 5 minutes later. "I turned all the locks," Sean announced. "And I set the alarms. You forgot to do that." He sent an appraising look her way.
Helen laughed softly as she climbed into bed beside him. "I keep telling you, Sean, there's nothing to worry about anymore. We have the upper hand, and they seem to have accepted it. True, our numbers are pretty evenly split overall, but the war is long over, and Patrick Kilkeney is in power. With him, we will prevail. There is nothing to worry about. They won't think to start a rebellion, because they know they would be crushed. There is absolutely nothing to worry about," Helen repeated for the third time as she leaned over and switched off the light.
"I don't like it. I don't like it," Sean muttered, lying down. "They're getting restless; don't care much for our way of thinking anymore. They never did, to tell the truth. I have a bad feeling about this."
"We can discuss it tomorrow," said Helen, as though the matter was settled. "But right now, we should try to get some sleep."
"Right, then," yawned Sean, and both were soon lost in sleep. But horrible nightmares soon invaded the blissful peace of sleep. These were nightmares of rebellions, shootings, and people they had never dared to fear before.
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The digital clock in Sean and Helen's room read 3:02 AM, and it was an uncouthly hot night--most unusual for County Cork, Ireland, even in July. Dark clouds were steadily piling up in the sky, promising a thunderstorm. But most of the people in the area were sleeping soundly, and they had no way of knowing that two thunderstorms would soon occur, one nearly as deadly as the other.
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"Sean."
Sean MacCallin rolled over, pretending not to hear his wife. She probably wanted him to turn the air conditioning up or something. Well, she could perfectly well get up and do it herself. He was almost asleep again when the whisper came once more.
"Sean."
The obvious panic in Helen's voice made Sean sit straight up. Helen almost never panicked-so when she did, usually something was very wrong.
"Helen?" He found her in the darkness. She was trembling, and a cold sweat was engulfing her body. It startled her husband. "What is it? A nightmare?" God knows he had had plenty of those himself that night.
"No, Sean." The panic in her voice was even more pronounced than before. "I heard something downstairs."
"Oh," replied Sean. He wasn't sure what to think-it could have been merely the house settling, but it could be something far more serious. "What did it sound like?"
Helen shuddered, and Sean felt his heart twist in nervousness. "It didn't sound-well-it didn't sound normal."
There was an urgent note in Sean's voice when he spoke again. "Helen, what exactly did it sound like? Tell me, now."
"It-" Helen whispered into the night. She quaked. "There was a soft beeping, like.the burglar alarm sounds when we turn it off." She rushed on. "And there was a click of the lock, and soft thumping, and-"
"No," whispered Sean fiercely. "It can't be."
At that moment, a loud BANG! came from downstairs, followed by quiet cursing.
"I never," began Sean, turning pale. "I never, never thought they'd come here-after all this."
Helen sat up in bed, frozen in horror.
"It's the Believers," hissed Sean.
Abruptly his manner became rough, almost angry. "Helen," he growled, heading for the door, "you're to take Ella to the hidden panel. Stay there until I come and get you. Don't leave there for anything."
"Do you hear me?" Sean cried, when Helen didn't respond right away. "Get Ella and get to the panel!"
"No." It was a whisper, yet it had more power than Sean's soft yell. Helen stood up and headed to the door. "I'm going too."
Sean shook his head furiously, but there was no time to argue. Every second wasted put their lives in more danger. He ran back to his closet and grabbed something he had bought fifteen years ago and never used-a gun.
He and Helen fled the bedroom. They bolted down the stairs into the entrance hall to find a horrifying sight-a tall, stocky man holding a pistol to Ella's head. Ella was trying to kick, scream, get away, but the man was at least two hundred pounds heavier than her, and he held on firmly. Helen and Sean had come too late.
Helen's tongue unloosed at once. "No!" she cried. "You'll not hold a gun to my daughter's head while I'm alive."
The man spoke, and his voice was a low, vehement hiss-rather like that of a cobra. "I'll do as I like, thanks very much, Helen MacCallin."
Sean came forth with his gun. "Let go of her!" he roared, waving his shotgun in the man's face. "We know who you are, and we're not afraid of you! You're the most famous one of all!"
"Happy to oblige," hissed the man in a drawing voice. "Your daughter will be honored to be killed by the most famous man in Ireland."
Helen stepped closer. Sean shot her a warning look, but she ignored him. No one threatened her daughter like that, not even the Snake. She would die for Ella if she had to. As Helen spoke, she tried to sound fierce, but the merest tremble in her voice gave her away. "What do you want?"
"I was wondering when you'd ask," laughed the man-if you could call his cold chuckle a laugh. "Ah, but I think you know what I want, Helen dear."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Helen knew how to make her voice a block of ice, just like her husband did.
"Well, I'll remind you, in case you've forgotten, shall I?" The man leaned close to her ear. "I want the plans."
Whatever remaining color there was in Sean or Helen's faces left it. Ella's eyes grew wide and she shook her head vigorously.
"Come, now," taunted the man. "What will it be? Your daughter-or the plans?"
It was at least a minute before anyone spoke. A taunting, malicious smile played on the man's lips as he watched the MacCallins. Sean and Helen seemed in a kind of trance. It was Ella, fighting to get away from the man, that woke them up at last.
"You let her go," said Helen, glaring, "and I will go get the plans."
"I will let her go as soon as you give me those plans," snarled the man, his taunting smile gone now.
"Why should we trust you?" demanded Sean, aiming his pistol at the man's head.
For an instant, the man's face tensed. Then it relaxed. "Why indeed?" he hissed, his smirk returning. He shoved Ella over to her parents, who embraced her. "But mark my words-if you fail to hand over the plans, I shall kill all three of you. And drop the gun," he added to Sean, who was still brandishing the pistol, "or your daughter goes, and your wife as well."
Sean hesitated, but with a pleading look from Helen, he lowered his arm and let the pistol fall to the ground. The man quickly collected it and stuffed it into his belt. "Go," he hissed to Helen. "Go get your plans. And I warn you, if you do not return, your daughter and husband-"He mimed slitting his throat, "go down."
Helen fairly flew up the stairs, tripping twice in terror. The entire time she was gone, the man kept his pistol held on Ella. Sean shot him a cold glare that could not have possibly showed more hatred. Ella was so angry, she was turning redder by the second, and looked liable to explode at any moment. Once she was about to speak, but a warning glance from her father stopped her. Although no one saw it, there was more than anger in her eyes. There was fear.
Two minutes later, Helen returned, breathless and shaking. With an epileptic hand, she slowly presented a sheaf of papers to the man. He snatched them as though he couldn't have them fast enough. The smirk on his face was permanent now, and his gun started training Helen.
"There," whispered Helen venomously. "You have your plans. You have everything you ever wanted, Snake. Go." She pointed to the door.
The man she had called Snake ignored the last word. "Everything I wanted?" His cold chuckle rang out again. "Oh, I think not Helen. I think not. But one thing's for sure-I will make sure for certain that you never, ever, help your sinister organization succeed again."
"What makes you so sure?" whispered Helen.
"Oh, I have my ways, Helen," hissed the man.
Ella heard the bullet before she saw it, and even then, it was so quick that she didn't even remember what it looked like flying though the air. The image that would stay with her as long as she lived would be that of her mother-a combination of shock, hurt, anger, disbelief, and-strangest of all-relief on her face. That picture was frozen into her brain for life.
It was hours before Helen fell. Everyone, even Snake, was immobilized, staring at her as she fell. The force of the bullet knocked her backward, and her body stood upright for an instant before crumpling in a heap at Sean's feet.
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Reviews please! The more reviews I get, the faster I get the next chapter done!
This chapter is written a bit differently from the first two, and you will soon see why. Since I can't use eclipses (three little dots in a row, is that what you call them?) on this site, I use dashes instead, so just bear with me on that part. Without further ado I give you-Chapter 3!
+ - + - + - + - + - +
CHAPTER 3
"G'night Mum. I love you. See you in the morning." But Ella wouldn't see her Mum in the morning. That was the last time Ella MacCallin ever said those words.
Amazing how little she knew then.
"G'night Ella." Helen MacCallin planted a soft kiss on her daughter's forehead. She leaned in closer to Ella. "You should think about what you want to do for your birthday. It's only a few weeks away."
"Ok, Mum. I will." Ella smiled broadly as she said this. She knew Mum and Dad would give her the moon if she asked for it.
"Yeah, maybe we'll take you riding on the back of a garbage truck for your birthday," Dad joked, also coming in to kiss Ella good night.
"Da-ad," groaned Ella, but she was giggling. Helen giggled too, and soon, all three of them were doubled up in laughter, clean, pure laughter that cleanses your soul of any grief. How long it would be until Ella and her dad would laugh again.
"Well, good night, sweetheart. I'll make you popovers for breakfast tomorrow." Dad could actually cook as well as Mum. His popovers were the specialty of the house.
Ella's father kissed her, and both parents crept out of her room and closed the door, leaving Ella to visit Dreamland for several happy hours before it was all over.
Helen and Sean tiptoed down the long hallway and into their master suite. They changed into their pajamas, and both brushed their teeth. Sean climbed into the high bed and picked up his book, but Helen stood by her dresser for a while, looking at new and old snapshots. There was her, Sean, and Ella about a year ago, in Dublin on holiday. There was her, Sean, and Ella as a little girl. There was a picture of her and Sean's wedding day. And there-Helen shut her eyes, but forced them open again. This was the hardest picture of all to look at. There was the whole gang, all of them grinning. They were at a picnic of some kind. Helen sighed. Ryan had his arm around her in the picture. God how she missed him-
Would I still be here if none of it happened? Helen thought to herself. No, definitely not. Certainly not. No Sean, no Ella. She shuddered. Helen couldn't imagine life without the two people she loved most-
"Did you deadbolt the doors?" Sean muttered from the other side of the room, pulling her out of her reverie.
Helen jerked around. "I think I did." She shrugged unconcernedly. "It doesn't really matter."
"You can't be too careful these days," Sean mumbled. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He set down his book and sleepily shuffled into the hall. He was back 5 minutes later. "I turned all the locks," Sean announced. "And I set the alarms. You forgot to do that." He sent an appraising look her way.
Helen laughed softly as she climbed into bed beside him. "I keep telling you, Sean, there's nothing to worry about anymore. We have the upper hand, and they seem to have accepted it. True, our numbers are pretty evenly split overall, but the war is long over, and Patrick Kilkeney is in power. With him, we will prevail. There is nothing to worry about. They won't think to start a rebellion, because they know they would be crushed. There is absolutely nothing to worry about," Helen repeated for the third time as she leaned over and switched off the light.
"I don't like it. I don't like it," Sean muttered, lying down. "They're getting restless; don't care much for our way of thinking anymore. They never did, to tell the truth. I have a bad feeling about this."
"We can discuss it tomorrow," said Helen, as though the matter was settled. "But right now, we should try to get some sleep."
"Right, then," yawned Sean, and both were soon lost in sleep. But horrible nightmares soon invaded the blissful peace of sleep. These were nightmares of rebellions, shootings, and people they had never dared to fear before.
+ - + - + - + - + - +
The digital clock in Sean and Helen's room read 3:02 AM, and it was an uncouthly hot night--most unusual for County Cork, Ireland, even in July. Dark clouds were steadily piling up in the sky, promising a thunderstorm. But most of the people in the area were sleeping soundly, and they had no way of knowing that two thunderstorms would soon occur, one nearly as deadly as the other.
+ - + - + - + - +
"Sean."
Sean MacCallin rolled over, pretending not to hear his wife. She probably wanted him to turn the air conditioning up or something. Well, she could perfectly well get up and do it herself. He was almost asleep again when the whisper came once more.
"Sean."
The obvious panic in Helen's voice made Sean sit straight up. Helen almost never panicked-so when she did, usually something was very wrong.
"Helen?" He found her in the darkness. She was trembling, and a cold sweat was engulfing her body. It startled her husband. "What is it? A nightmare?" God knows he had had plenty of those himself that night.
"No, Sean." The panic in her voice was even more pronounced than before. "I heard something downstairs."
"Oh," replied Sean. He wasn't sure what to think-it could have been merely the house settling, but it could be something far more serious. "What did it sound like?"
Helen shuddered, and Sean felt his heart twist in nervousness. "It didn't sound-well-it didn't sound normal."
There was an urgent note in Sean's voice when he spoke again. "Helen, what exactly did it sound like? Tell me, now."
"It-" Helen whispered into the night. She quaked. "There was a soft beeping, like.the burglar alarm sounds when we turn it off." She rushed on. "And there was a click of the lock, and soft thumping, and-"
"No," whispered Sean fiercely. "It can't be."
At that moment, a loud BANG! came from downstairs, followed by quiet cursing.
"I never," began Sean, turning pale. "I never, never thought they'd come here-after all this."
Helen sat up in bed, frozen in horror.
"It's the Believers," hissed Sean.
Abruptly his manner became rough, almost angry. "Helen," he growled, heading for the door, "you're to take Ella to the hidden panel. Stay there until I come and get you. Don't leave there for anything."
"Do you hear me?" Sean cried, when Helen didn't respond right away. "Get Ella and get to the panel!"
"No." It was a whisper, yet it had more power than Sean's soft yell. Helen stood up and headed to the door. "I'm going too."
Sean shook his head furiously, but there was no time to argue. Every second wasted put their lives in more danger. He ran back to his closet and grabbed something he had bought fifteen years ago and never used-a gun.
He and Helen fled the bedroom. They bolted down the stairs into the entrance hall to find a horrifying sight-a tall, stocky man holding a pistol to Ella's head. Ella was trying to kick, scream, get away, but the man was at least two hundred pounds heavier than her, and he held on firmly. Helen and Sean had come too late.
Helen's tongue unloosed at once. "No!" she cried. "You'll not hold a gun to my daughter's head while I'm alive."
The man spoke, and his voice was a low, vehement hiss-rather like that of a cobra. "I'll do as I like, thanks very much, Helen MacCallin."
Sean came forth with his gun. "Let go of her!" he roared, waving his shotgun in the man's face. "We know who you are, and we're not afraid of you! You're the most famous one of all!"
"Happy to oblige," hissed the man in a drawing voice. "Your daughter will be honored to be killed by the most famous man in Ireland."
Helen stepped closer. Sean shot her a warning look, but she ignored him. No one threatened her daughter like that, not even the Snake. She would die for Ella if she had to. As Helen spoke, she tried to sound fierce, but the merest tremble in her voice gave her away. "What do you want?"
"I was wondering when you'd ask," laughed the man-if you could call his cold chuckle a laugh. "Ah, but I think you know what I want, Helen dear."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Helen knew how to make her voice a block of ice, just like her husband did.
"Well, I'll remind you, in case you've forgotten, shall I?" The man leaned close to her ear. "I want the plans."
Whatever remaining color there was in Sean or Helen's faces left it. Ella's eyes grew wide and she shook her head vigorously.
"Come, now," taunted the man. "What will it be? Your daughter-or the plans?"
It was at least a minute before anyone spoke. A taunting, malicious smile played on the man's lips as he watched the MacCallins. Sean and Helen seemed in a kind of trance. It was Ella, fighting to get away from the man, that woke them up at last.
"You let her go," said Helen, glaring, "and I will go get the plans."
"I will let her go as soon as you give me those plans," snarled the man, his taunting smile gone now.
"Why should we trust you?" demanded Sean, aiming his pistol at the man's head.
For an instant, the man's face tensed. Then it relaxed. "Why indeed?" he hissed, his smirk returning. He shoved Ella over to her parents, who embraced her. "But mark my words-if you fail to hand over the plans, I shall kill all three of you. And drop the gun," he added to Sean, who was still brandishing the pistol, "or your daughter goes, and your wife as well."
Sean hesitated, but with a pleading look from Helen, he lowered his arm and let the pistol fall to the ground. The man quickly collected it and stuffed it into his belt. "Go," he hissed to Helen. "Go get your plans. And I warn you, if you do not return, your daughter and husband-"He mimed slitting his throat, "go down."
Helen fairly flew up the stairs, tripping twice in terror. The entire time she was gone, the man kept his pistol held on Ella. Sean shot him a cold glare that could not have possibly showed more hatred. Ella was so angry, she was turning redder by the second, and looked liable to explode at any moment. Once she was about to speak, but a warning glance from her father stopped her. Although no one saw it, there was more than anger in her eyes. There was fear.
Two minutes later, Helen returned, breathless and shaking. With an epileptic hand, she slowly presented a sheaf of papers to the man. He snatched them as though he couldn't have them fast enough. The smirk on his face was permanent now, and his gun started training Helen.
"There," whispered Helen venomously. "You have your plans. You have everything you ever wanted, Snake. Go." She pointed to the door.
The man she had called Snake ignored the last word. "Everything I wanted?" His cold chuckle rang out again. "Oh, I think not Helen. I think not. But one thing's for sure-I will make sure for certain that you never, ever, help your sinister organization succeed again."
"What makes you so sure?" whispered Helen.
"Oh, I have my ways, Helen," hissed the man.
Ella heard the bullet before she saw it, and even then, it was so quick that she didn't even remember what it looked like flying though the air. The image that would stay with her as long as she lived would be that of her mother-a combination of shock, hurt, anger, disbelief, and-strangest of all-relief on her face. That picture was frozen into her brain for life.
It was hours before Helen fell. Everyone, even Snake, was immobilized, staring at her as she fell. The force of the bullet knocked her backward, and her body stood upright for an instant before crumpling in a heap at Sean's feet.
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Reviews please! The more reviews I get, the faster I get the next chapter done!