‘Thank you,’ she said, and took a sip. She kept her expression neutral, holding off a grimace, but knew instantly why the prices here were so cheap.
The chatter between the drinkers soon picked back up. Beth kept her ears open, listening for anything that could lead her to Josh, or something relating to what was going on outside.
It didn’t take her long.
Beth's attention was quickly drawn to the group of men at the bar, where her thuggish admirer was holding court.
‘I heard it was a mess. Guts everywhere.’
‘Can’t believe they still don’t know who it was that got cut up,’ another added.
The ringleader smiled and shook his head. ‘Police know who is dead, I reckon, it just won’t be common knowledge yet. They certainly ain’t told the press. I was speaking to the reporters outside and they don’t seem to have a clue yet.’ The man speaking then looked over to Beth once more and, with a smug grin, added, ‘So they won’t know who the killer is, either.’
Beth didn’t look back at him—didn’t allow herself a reaction—even though she felt a deep sense of dread building. Evidently someone had been killed, and in a rather gruesome fashion, it would seem—though the group of men were talking about it with such glee that they could have just as easily been talking about a game of football.
Was it Josh? Was that why he called this morning, because he was in fear for his life? Or, if not him, was he somehow involved in a murder? Was that the reason he had sounded so panicked?
Despite his troubles in life, Beth would have never thought Josh was capable of killing. But his message, begging Beth to come to the place, coupled with the apparent murder she was now learning about, couldn’t have just been a coincidence.
Could it?
She took another sip of her wine… a sip that turned into a long mouthful of the vinegar-tinged drink. Then the glass was empty.
‘I’ll have another,’ Beth said to the boy behind the bar. His eyebrows were raised in slight surprise at seeing how quickly she’d finished her drink. But he dutifully prepared her another and set it on the table, again taking her payment and giving change.
This second wine was a mistake, Beth knew, and would likely put her over the limit to drive, but she felt her dread rising further, threatening to turn into full-blown anxiety. She needed to calm herself to think clearly. Perhaps alcohol wasn’t the best thing for that, but it was all she had on hand.
‘Christ, you’re a good drinker, aren’t you, love?’ the thug with the gold chain said to Beth. ‘That went down so quick I don’t think it touched the sides of your throat.’
Beth gave a well-practiced and stern smile. One that showed no humour and simply said: fuck off and leave me alone.
He didn’t get the hint. Or, he just ignored it. ‘I like your eyes,’ he said, stepping around the old man that separated them, then leaning against the bar next to Beth. ‘A real strong blue, ain’t they?’
Yes, you fuckwit, Beth thought. They are a strong blue. Is that really your best line?
Beth was readying herself to let him down, and not particularly gently, when a side door to the bar area opened, and another older man walked in. He was wet from the rain and flanked by a dog—this one a black-and-white Border Collie.
This man was broad and relatively tall for someone his age, with grey hair that was brushed back. He bore a long, flat nose and square jaw that was softened slightly with sagging jowls. He walked with a stick, the brass bottom of which tapped on the timber floor as he entered.
‘Afternoon, Jim,’ the man, who now stood next to Beth said, thankfully averting his attention from her. ‘Don’t often see you in here anymore. Thought you’d kicked the drink?’
‘I need one today,’ the old man said. Beth took note of the name the thug had used.
Jim took off his waterproof coat, then approached the bar and ordered a pint of stout, which was served thick and black, like tar. He grabbed his drink and moved to a seat along the opposite wall. The sleeping Terrier awoke and, upon seeing the Collie, started to yap and bark. The larger dog simply responded with a quick growl, shutting the Terrier up instantly, and continued with its owner. The dog then lay at Jim’s feet as he sat down.
‘You’re looking a little peaky, Jim,’ the man next to Beth said. She could smell his sharp aftershave. ‘You not feeling too good?’
‘I’m fine, Pete,’ Jim replied. ‘Just wanna have a drink in peace.’
Pete held his hands up defensively, though he didn’t look away from Jim, and the smile he wore was practically a sneer. ‘Fair enough, old man.’ Jim didn’t respond, so Pete went on, ‘Heard the news? About what they found over at Hollows Cove?'
The old man didn’t make eye contact with Pete, but Beth noticed Jim’s body stiffen up. He then shifted slightly in his seat and it was clear to Beth that he knew something.
The young bar-boy then leaned over towards Pete and whispered something Beth was just about able to make out. ‘I heard it was Jim that found the bodies. He was the one that called the police.’
Pete’s eyes widened, so much so that they threatened to pop out of his head. ‘No fucking way!’
Beth was also a little taken back. Not because the old man was the person who had called the crime in, but because the boy had used the plural. Bodies.
Just what the hell was going on here?
‘What?’ one of the other men asked. ‘What did the lad tell you, Pete?’
Pete strode away from the bar with an arrogant swagger as he stepped towards Jim. ‘Is that true, Jimmy? You the one that found that mess this morning?’ Jim didn’t answer or make eye contact. But that was good enough for Pete. ‘You did, didn’t you?’ The thuggish man let out a bellowing laugh. ‘Shit, Jim, you gotta tell me about it! Did you recognise any of the poor fuckers?’
‘I’m not in the mood to talk about it, boy,’ Jim said sternly.
‘But I am,’ Pete replied, pulling a stool up to the table close to Jim. Pete took a seat, set down his drink, and laid his meaty forearms on the table's surface. ‘And I want all the details.’
Chapter 8
‘I got nothing to say, Pete,’ Jim replied before he took a drink of the thick, black liquid from his glass. The frothy head left a white, bubbly layer on his upper lip.
‘Come on, Jim,’ the younger man pressed. ‘Spill it. What was it you found? I heard the bodies were all cut up. Jeff over there,’ Pete pointed to one of his friends, ‘was told there was three of them. Is that right?’
‘It was a mistake coming here,’ Jim said, clearly agitated. He started to get to his feet and grabbed his glass. Pete shot out a hand and took hold of Jim’s arm. The pub fell silent.
‘No, don’t leave. Just sit and talk to me, old man. No need to run off.’
‘Leave me be, Pete!’ Jim snapped, baring his teeth. His dog was now up on its feet and gave a low growl. Beth felt like the situation could spiral out of control at any moment. This older man clearly didn’t want to talk about what he’d seen, but Pete didn’t appear to care.
But Beth was interested to learn what Jim knew. Part of her wanted him to give in to Pete and divulge, if only for her own benefit. It was all far too much of a coincidence to not have anything to do with Josh’s call.
‘Better stop that mutt growling at me, before I kick its face off,’ Pete said, curling his top lip. His own face was a picture of anger, and he glared at the snarling dog.
‘Let go of my arm and she’ll stop,’ Jim said. He didn’t wait for Pete to comply, however, and simply yanked his arm free, surprising the younger man with his speed and strength. ‘Leave me be,’ Jim stated, then squeezed himself past Pete and walked away towards the emptier restaurant area. His dog followed dutifully behind.
‘Suit yourself,’ Pete said, scowling. ‘You miserable old cunt.’
Jim, with his back to them all, stopped suddenly. Beth expected him to turn around and stride back over to Pete. Thankfully, the old man eventually continued on, avoidin
g any further conflict. Beth sensed Pete and his friends would be quite happy escalating things to violence if they felt their fragile manhood was ever threatened.
Jim wandered to an empty booth and sat down. His dog crawled under the table. The bar area was still silent, everyone waiting to see how Pete would now react. Pete got to his feet, downed what was left of his drink, and returned to the bar. He slammed the empty glass down and barked out his order.
‘Whiskey. Double.’
The young boy jumped to action and gave Pete his drink. Beth noticed the boy didn’t take any money. Pete took a sip, then turned around and leaned his elbows back on the bar. Beth could feel the anger radiating from him. But Pete then cast a confident smile. ‘Fuck the old clown,’ he said with a laugh. ‘We’ll find out what happened soon enough. Nothing ever stays secret in this town. Not for long, anyway.’
There were a few chuckles, then the bar seemed to come to life again. People began to talk, though at a lower level than before, as if Pete’s relatively lighthearted comments were permission for them to carry on with their conversations. It was clear to Beth that the man held quite a lot of sway here, likely through fear, and was probably best avoided if she could help it.
Then she thought again of Josh. Had he got caught up with Pete somehow? And was the thug, who at that moment cast Beth another glance, actually involved in the murders he claimed to want to know more about?
It was all conjecture, of course, but she did not return his admiring glance. Beth didn’t want to be anywhere near him. The one person she did want to talk to, however, had just moved away from them, and didn’t seem in the mood for chit-chat.
She considered her options as she took a mouthful of her drink, forcing herself to keep from shuddering. It truly was awful stuff. Though, in truth, the second glass had been more palatable than the first.
If she went over to Jim’s table to start a conversation, in all likelihood he would tell her to get lost. But, more than that, Pete and his friends would no doubt take an interest, and she really didn’t want to draw their attention. However, she couldn’t let the opportunity slip. It was all she really had to go on, even if she couldn’t be one-hundred-percent certain the apparent murders had anything to do with Josh.
So, if she couldn’t talk to him here in the pub, then she needed to do it somewhere else.
An idea formed.
The steady rat-a-tat-tat of rain on the windows had eased, indicating the heavy storm was coming to an end outside. And Beth figured Jim would leave the pub soon. Given what the man had seen earlier, Beth guessed that he had only come in for a drink to help calm his nerves—just like she had. That hadn’t gone well for him.
Beth simply could wait outside, watch the pub, and bide her time until Jim came out. She could then either speak to him, or even watch and wait, to see where he headed. It was better than sitting here all night, and her instincts were screaming at her to act.
She quickly finished her drink, and part of her dearly wanted to order another. The taste was becoming more and more bearable now, and it had given her a pleasant buzz, but she pushed that craving to one side. Keeping her eyes away from Pete—who she could feel was still staring at her—she got up.
‘Not going anywhere yet are you, love?’ Pete asked. Beth just ignored him and left, walking through the restaurant area. She heard Pete mutter ‘Bitch,’ but ignored it, even though it was a struggle to do so. There were more important things at hand. As Beth walked, she passed Jim. The poor old man looked ashen, his eyes forlorn. He was over halfway through his drink already.
She kept going and strode outside into the open air, that smelled damp from the recent rain. There was a chill to the breeze now. The falling rain was merely a drizzle. The cobbles underfoot were damp and shiny. Only one or two stragglers remained looking out at the beach. The news crews were still huddled inside their vans, despite the weather easing.
Even with clean and brisk air in her lungs—a change from the smoky interior of the pub—Beth still felt a little fuzzy-headed. Two drinks had been a mistake, and Beth chided herself for succumbing so easily. She had to focus and try to figure out where the best place would be to wait for Jim.
She knew there were at least two entrances to the pub: the one she just left through, and the side door she had seen Jim use to enter. But the size of the building meant that watching both exits at the same time would be impossible. So, she had to pick one.
Given Jim had moved away from the bar area—and away from Pete—Beth figured he would likely follow her out of the main door she had just left through. That would mean he wouldn’t have to pass Pete again, either. It was as good a guess as any, and it that way she could wait in the relative comfort and warmth of her car while scoping out the large, rendered building.
She started to walk over to her vehicle, her feet wobbling slightly on the cobbles underfoot. Hadn’t anyone in this town heard of asphalt? Beth was certain the locals here must have had to spend a fortune each year on fixing the suspension to their cars.
The police presence was still on the beach, she noted, and the activity looked as muted and low-key as when Beth had first spotted it.
Had the bodies already been removed? It seemed likely.
As Beth got closer to her car, however, she heard something on the wind that drew her attention. A series of murmurs seemed to be coming from beyond the low stone wall which separated the parking area from the beach beyond.
Beth furrowed her brow and started to walk over to the wall that came up roughly to her knees. The drop beyond was a little more substantial, but only by a couple of feet or so, and whatever was making the sound was hidden from view. There was something about the noises that troubled her. Her concern rose the closer she got—the sounds rising and becoming more and more clear. A knot formed in her stomach as Beth realised what that noise was.
But it couldn’t be.
The sound of crying children—babies—was now unmistakable, though apparently it was loud enough for only her to hear, given no one else was as close. Panic rose as Beth ran up to the wall. The cries turned into distressed screaming.
What the hell is happening to them?
Beth reached the wall and quickly leaned over to look down the short drop to the stony beech below. A shriek of horror escaped her.
This can’t be real!
They weren’t children. Not quite.
Though the bodies of the writhing, purple things that glistened red were of a similar size to babies, and they had roughly the same shape and appendages, it was clear they were something else entirely. Their bodies were smooth, with fingers and toes fused together, but it was the faces of these horrific monsters that so terrified Beth.
The eyes were two little black orbs, like small shark eyes, positioned on the side of the heads. They had no nose, and the only other feature on the faces was a round mouth that sat central. It stretched and contracted like the suckers on a leech. Small, jagged teeth were visible just behind the rubbery edges of the puckering maws. The child-like wails emitted from the creatures were growing louder and louder.
Beth backpedalled, unable to make sense of what she had seen.
Can’t be real, can’t be real, can’t be real.
The image of the knocking figure in the second-storey window from earlier sprung back into her mind. What the hell was going on here?
Beth backed up into a car behind her, and she let herself slump to the floor in horror while clutching her head in her hands. She pressed her palms over her ears in an attempt to drown out the horrific sounds. That was when she realised she was crying.
What the fuck were those things?
She didn’t feel safe being so close to the wall… and what was beyond it. She had to get away from this madness. And only when safe could she try to make sense of it all. Beth forced herself to her feet, and then noticed it…
The awful cries and shrieks of the monstrous infants had ceased.
The only sounds Beth could now hear w
ere the natural ones of the town: cars, seagulls, and the waves of the sea. After a moment’s hesitation, she slowly made her way back over to the wall. Beth was sure—absolutely certain—that what she had seen was real. And she had heard them.
But now, with everything silent, Beth was reminded of her fall earlier after seeing the thing in the window. It had vanished quickly. And, sure enough, as Beth cautiously peeked over the wall again, all she could see was the shiny stones of the beach, and a small, skittering crab that ran over them.
No twisted, nightmarish versions of babies wriggling around together in a terrible, writhing mass.
Beth shook her head, unwilling to accept what now seemed obvious—that she had been seeing things. Twice in the space of a short time, no less.
No.
She didn’t believe that. Couldn’t believe it. Those things weren’t just in her head. They couldn’t have been.
Her heart was still racing, and she backed up again, still sobbing slightly. Something was wrong here in this town. Something was very wrong.
‘You okay?’
The voice startled her. Beth spun around and saw that some people were gazing at her with puzzled expressions. A worried-looking old man stood closest, only a few feet away, and he had a black dog in tow.
It was Jim.
Chapter 9
‘I’m… I…’ Beth had no idea how to answer Jim’s question. Her mind was struggling to make sense of what she had just seen.
Jim frowned, seemingly sceptical of her, yet his face still carried a look of concern. ‘You look a little unsteady. Why don’t you sit down?’ he offered, gesturing to the wall behind her. The one that Beth, only moments ago, had looked over and seen those horrible deformities. She didn’t want to be anywhere near that wall.
‘I’m okay,’ she said finally, forcing herself to sound strong.
The Extreme Horror Collection Page 47