The Torchbearer ✓

Chapter 2

"For fuck's sake"

Jackson could only groan and roll over, still mostly in sleep's grasp. "Lee, your phone."

The annoying default Apple ringtone started to invade his slumber faster and faster as he squinted with one eye at the digital clock on his bedside table.

5:16.

He quickly shifted onto his back, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and rose wearing a dazed expression. He pushed his hands into the small of his back to stretch away his weariness. 'Dusting off the cobwebs', as his dad often said. 

The phone had stopped ringing so he grabbed it to check who could be doing their best to piss him off.

5:17

Andy(2) - Missed Call

Andy - Text Message

Give us a bell asap will you.

"What's up," came a muffled query from the bed. That was indeed the question. 

"Dunno love, Andy wants me to ring him; I'll be a sec," Jackson said between yawns. Stepping out onto the landing in the pitch-black winter gloom, he swiped across to find out.

This better not be one of those cruel tests they do to see who can't be arsed to answer their phone at stupid o'clock, he mused as the dial tone began to ring out. 

The last time Chief Superintendent Andrew Shaw had called him late at night like this he had almost had Jackson charging along the M62 before conceding that the whole damned thing was a test. After three rings a click signalled that he had picked up.

"For Christ's sake what?" Jackson demanded morosely, planting his elbows on the wooden banister.

"Lee yeah hi, erm, right, so basically you need to get to the train station at Morley straight away, you know, near Leeds." Andy replied with a dark tone to his voice which may or may not be hiding a grin, Jackson noted, suspicions raised.

"Yeah what's it this time, drag me out of bed so I can do your shopping or something. I answered the phone pretty quick, didn't I? Stop doing this please mate." Jackson went to end the call and his thumb was stopped by only the savage tone in Andy's voice he could hear despite the phone already being a distance away from his ear.

He lifted the phone back to his ear timidly.

"What's that sorry?" Jackson asked meekly.

"People have died here Jacko you moron!"

Andy quickly regained his temperament with the only semblance of his usually affable self being the use of his nickname for Lee, which was a shortening of his surname and perhaps an ode to Michael Jackson.

Or not, Jackson thought, somehow struggling to focus even though something disastrous had clearly taken place. 

"A train has derailed somewhere north of Morley in the last hour or two, 15 dead, plenty more injured. It's big. Just get yourself here quick will you, I'll meet you and the others at the station for a full briefing at 0600. See you soon." Andy informed him.

A beep signified the cessation of the call. Shit, Jackson half muttered. 

He snapped into life after a moment's hesitation and a quick shake of the head. Dashing back into his bedroom Jackson pulled on his uniform which gave way to his limbs as if the material had a memory of its own for the shape of him. 

Lee Jackson was six feet on some days, five eleven on others. But six feet is what he told people. I'm not going to sell myself short am I? He giggled at his own pun and regarded himself in the mirror as he dressed.