by Jim Goforth
Relinquishing his grasp on Desiree who moved to sit on the couch near Melissa, Corey trotted to the wall-mounted telephone which continued to shrill like an unmusical bird.
Intending to snatch it up and blare 'what the fuck do you want Pete?' he instead answered the call with the much milder,
"Hello?"
"Hello Somerset, you little fuck!" snarled a harsh voice he didn't instantly recognise.
A split second later he realised who the crass person on the other end of the line was and icy breath punched its shock into his lungs.
"H...how did you get this number?" he stammered, a stupid query, but the best his stunned brain had been able to muster up.
"You're in the directory you fucking idiot!" Errol Haskell sneered, a mocking overtone prevalent in his voice. "Forget about that?"
"What do you want?" Corey asked, trip hammers of dread beginning to beat an apprehensive tattoo upon his heart.
He glanced around the lounge room as he held the receiver to his ear, seeing a lot of expectant querying faces.
'Who is it?' Lee mouthed, having obviously reached the conclusion that it wasn't Peter and the gang who'd caused Corey's face to blanch white.
"I'll tell you what I want fucker," Haskell continued, his voice grating and full of gleeful scorn. "I want to tell you a few things and ask you a few questions."
"Like what?"
"Like...ah I don't know...like did you realise that you and me share some mutual acquaintances? Maybe acquaintances who share the same hatred of you that I have? Did you realise that?"
If the deranged lunatic on the other end of the line was referring to his thuggish band of criminal cronies which formerly included the late and unlamented Greg Scanlon then certainly Corey realised that particular breed of vermin did indeed share Haskell's dislike for one Mister Somerset. Other than that Corey wasn't entirely sure he and Haskell had any mutual acquaintances, especially ones who didn't like Corey.
"If you are talking about your dumbass friends then sure, I know those pricks share the same hatred of me. Does this conversation have a point?"
"Sure does. And let's say I'm not talking about the boys." said Errol Haskell. "Which I'm not. I'm talking about girls."
"Girls?" Corey echoed.
"How about not fucking interrupting me while I'm talking?" Haskell blasted. "See, I'm not done yet, not even close."
"Okay" Corey said shortly while around him Desiree, Lee, Melissa and co. continued to gaze in consternation, quizzical and bewildered expressions colouring their visages.
Lee persisted in mouthing 'who is it?' whilst raising his arms in a querying gesture. The girls also took to mimicking Lee's questioning poses, but trying to concentrate on what Haskell was saying Corey didn't concentrate on them. Instead he held a forefinger up to his lips to ensure they all remained quiet. Dutifully any minute noise they were making ceased though the varying array of expressions on their respective visages remained constant.
"Back to what I was saying, let's say these chicks happened to cross paths with me and along the way we discovered that we share a common interest. Or should that be, a common lack of interest? A lack of interest in you and all your dumb fuck friends remaining alive!" Haskell snorted with derisive laughter as if he found his own witty remarks alarmingly amusing. "Still don't know who I'm talking about Somerfuck? You are a fucking moron after all so I suppose I'll help you out, you know, 'phone a friend' and all that shit. Well does the name, say...Raven, jog your memory, you prick?"
CHAPTER 27
Corey could do little else, but clamp the receiver to his ear, feeling the short hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up in trepidation, that great frozen hand of fear curling its frigid fingers around his palpitating heart and squeezing unrelentingly tighter.
The very instant Haskell mentioned 'crossing paths' with these girls he referred to, Corey immediately began to suspect that the crossing of paths occurred in the vicinity of the lake and therefore the alleged women could only be Raven's murderous posse on the warpath.
Yet instead of dispatching Errol Haskell they’d befriended him and formed a disturbing alliance.
Playing dumb and pleading ignorance of Raven didn't seem entirely believable, though Corey had entertained the notion.
"I know Raven," he said as calmly as possible, trying not to let Haskell, or even his own company of friends know how rattled he was.
Hearing the name of the traitorous bitch that’d sparked the massacre of their friends sent panicked whispers around Corey's lounge room like wildfire, querying expressions remaining on visages, but this time touched with terror. Desiree and Lee even got up from their respective seats and edged as close to the telephone as possible without crowding Corey in order to hear what they could from the other end of the line.
"Oh you do, do you? Good, I thought you might. She sure fucking remembers you Corny, you stole her girl didn't you fucker?"
"Her girl?"
"Yeah, or mine if I get her first. She's the fucking tastiest dish I've ever seen that one, but you know that 'cause you've already tasted her dish haven't you?"
"None of your business."
"Haven't you?"
"Fuck off idiot. What do you want?"
"Well if you know Raven you'll know her sister and the other chicks," Haskell carried on as if he hadn't heard Corey's question. "And I bet you know the weird fuckers too. Those bastards have got a real appetite for blood, let me tell you. They helped clean up that little mess you and your fucking bitch friends left behind. And they're gonna help me clean up a few other messes too. That'll be you and the tribe of whores with you. Oh, and fucking Hunter too. Can't forget the hippy fuck who killed Greg. By the way, talking about messes, where the fuck is my fucking van you sonofabitch? See, it's not in your driveway."
Upon that horrifying note the huge icicle laden fist crowding Corey's chest squeezed so alarmingly tight he could barely breathe.
"It...it's at Tim's place," he lied, the only suggestion he could manage on the spur of the moment. Saying Tim's place was his only viable option for both of Tim's parents lived elsewhere; his alcoholic mother abandoning him at age seven to live on the other side of the country while his father, a recidivist robber was currently residing in prison for a string of armed hold ups involving banks and service stations.
"See, I know you are fucking lying Somercock!" Errol Haskell snarled, a grating angry edge to his voice replacing the sardonic humour which had previously been lurking there. "And how do I fucking know that? Because fucking Hayworth is dead isn't he? And why the hell would some big dumb dead ass need my van when he's dead? He wouldn't need it so it's not there is it, Somerprick? So where is it, considering it isn't in your driveway where I thought it'd be?"
"How do you know it isn't in the driveway?" Corey asked, struggling valiantly to keep a fearful shake from overwhelming his voice. He knew how Haskell knew alright; the psychopath was, or had been in the neighbourhood. It was Corey's guess that he still was, probably staring at Corey's driveway at the very minute.
"Because I have fucking eyes now don't I? I see it ain't there. In the garage is it?"
"No, it isn't," Corey replied, which was the truth. "But try and get in there and you'll get blasted."
"Oh I know you have plenty of guns Somerbutt. That doesn't particularly faze me see, since the lovely Raven and her galpals were kind enough to loan me a couple of theirs. Nice girls hey? So now I know you're in that house fuckface I'll be waiting for you to come out right? How's that grab you?"
"You know this call is being traced by the cops don't you?" Corey tried a last ditch attempt to warn Haskell off, but the freak merely collapsed in gales of scornful laughter.
"Like fuck it is. You call the cops? Not fucking likely. You stole my fucking van and you're going to go tell the cops? Why don't I believe that crap? Somercunt, here's the scoop. You, Hunter all the whores and anybody else with you are completely fucked. Me, Raven, the gals and the mutant freaks are comin
g to get you! See you soon numbnuts!"
With that Haskell emitted another nasty harsh chuckle and hung up the telephone he'd been using, leaving Corey with the beeps of a broken connection.
Corey slammed the receiver into the cradle so hard it almost cracked the set, his hands shaking like he was suffering an especially bad case of delirium tremens.
"Bad news?" Lee asked the bleeding obvious, evidently having not heard as much of the conversation from the other end of the line as he would have liked to.
"Very bad news," Corey replied though he was fairly certain the ghostly white pallor of his face would have been confirmation enough.
Nobody was sitting down any longer, the whole congregation was on their feet, hovering around Corey, waiting to hear the bad news.
"Was...was that Raven?" Asked Britt, her eyes as wide as saucers, her face all screwed up in apprehension.
"No, it wasn't Raven," Corey managed to get out before the rest of the group drowned each other out with a rapid-fire chain of chattering questions directed at him. He didn't hear any particular words, just an incessant roar of noise.
"Shut up!" Desiree shouted over the hubbub, her voice strident with an authoritative clarity. Immediately the constant string of queries died away to an abrupt silence.
"Go ahead Corey," Desiree urged him, her order fulfilled.
"Errol Haskell's here in the neighbourhood or has been here, either right now or any time between when Blaise and the others left," Corey said sombrely.
"What?" Exclaimed Lee. "How do you know? Was that him on the phone?"
"Yep, that was him. He knows his van isn't in the driveway that's how I know. He didn't actually say I'm standing in your driveway though he easily could be."
"Blaise and the rest left a couple of hours ago," Melissa said. "So any time between now and then he's been here?"
"Yeah."
"So the Plebs didn't get him then?" Serena whined, sounding both disappointed and scared. "He's the guy from the lake isn't he?"
"That's him. And no, the Plebs didn't get him. Worse. He's formed an alliance with Raven and the Plebs," Corey said.
"What?" Lee blasted again, bug-eyed in disbelief. "He said that? How do you know he's not lying?"
"Well he knows Raven's name, he knows about the Plebs, he even knows that Tim is dead. I think it's safe to say he isn't lying."
"Ah Christ," Lee moaned, the nightmare beginning all over again.
"You think he's brought them all here?"
"That's a possibility we better not ignore," Corey advised.
"Shit, Corey where's your gun?" Lee asked.
"Oh fuck! Upstairs under my pillow!"
"Good place for it," Melissa said scathingly. "Go get it. In the meantime girls, lock all the doors and windows in the house. That alright Corey?"
"Yes. Very wise. Lee, put the alarm on."
"It's not on already?"
"No! Fucking put it on!"
That said Corey took his leave of the company and bolted for the staircase. Leaping up the stairs three and four at a time he would have bet any one of his useful appendages, or even all of them, that a championship winning greyhound would have been hard pressed to beat him to the top.
He'd needed no further motivation to speed his way up, but a chilling remark made by one of the women -he thought it may have been Caroline- as he departed hastened him right along.
"What if he's already in the house?" She'd said. "What if Raven is in the house?"
Corey sincerely doubted either one of them, or any of the unwelcome visitors, were lurking inside the house, but it was an alarming little notion he could do without thinking about.
Killed inside the sanctuary of his own residence by Haskell, Raven or anybody else would really have taken the cake and Corey definitely did not want to be that cake-taker.
He ran into his bedroom, dashing to the bed and flinging the pillow aside. The nine millimetre pistol was still there right where he'd left it. He must have been dead tired after the evening and then the couple of sex romps with Desiree for he'd slept with his head on it for hours with no discomfort.
As he stooped to snatch up the weapon he was struck by another terrifying thought.
Haskell alluded to the fact that Raven had given at least one firearm to him, maybe more.
The absent quartet of Blaise, Peter, Ryan and Jess were completely oblivious to the latest developments in the saga.
Assuming that Haskell was still in the area he'd been where he had a clear view of Corey's driveway, say maybe directly across the street perhaps, armed with a high-powered rifle something like the night vision scope equipped piece of weaponry which had accounted for the girl Janet in the woods, the clueless foursome would walk blindly into a lethal ambush.
As soon as the van pulled back into the driveway the four would be instantly marked for swift death. Errol Haskell would recognise a vehicle of that size entering the Somerset property as his own purloined automobile no matter what alterations and adjustments had been made to it, and he'd blast away accordingly, dispatching anybody in sight.
Corey seized the pistol with renewed fear seeping cold into his bones. He was no longer worried about the likelihood of any enemies already being inside the house for he didn't really see that as viable. He was now more convinced of the Haskell as a sniper possibility, watching the house from somewhere close by, ready to open fire.
Corey thumped back down the stairs.
"They wouldn't really try and come into the house would they?" Serena was asking, visibly shaking. "I mean, they know there's guns here right?"
"I don't think Raven would be rash enough to," Desiree said. "She's too cunning for that. And maybe this Haskell might not either. But they will use the Plebs like suicide bombers."
"I thought of that," Melissa nodded solemnly with her. "But would they be so stupid enough to have brought the Plebs into town? They don't want to be conspicuous and it's still pretty much daylight out there. A bunch of freaks would stand out."
Corey blundered into Desiree's unpleasant take on the scenario with his own nasty possibilities.
"Guns..." he panted for breath, having descended the stairs in precisely the same manner he'd charged up them, a million miles an hour.
Both Desiree and Melissa favoured him with expressions of agreement though what they were visualising was not what he was making reference to.
"Good idea Corey," Melissa spoke. "It is about time you showed us these guns you have."
"No," Corey replied, shaking his head though it was a wise suggestion, one which hadn't yet occurred to him. "But that too. What I'm trying to say is that Raven in all her infinite wisdom has given guns to Haskell. Which could mean anything from a single hand gun to an armoury of assault rifles. Say, worst case scenario, Haskell is sitting up on the roof of one of the houses across the street armed with an assault rifle with a scope and night vision goggles. As soon as a vehicle pulls into my driveway, regardless of how it has been altered, those people inside are sitting ducks. They step out and Haskell will just open fire, picking them all off one by one. Maybe Raven and some of the others are up there with him. Blaise and the rest won't stand a chance in hell no matter how clever they've been with his van."
Corey's disturbing suggestion of how things might pan out sent shockwave ripples of fear through the congregation, obliterating the previous notion that Raven and co would very possibly launch the Plebs as attack weapons on the house. Lee rejoined them from securing the back series of doors in the house and his eyes widened at the prospect Corey relayed.
"Oh no!" Rachel wailed. "We have to warn them!"
"Can they be contacted by phone?" Melissa queried.
"Has Pete got his mobile phone on him?" Corey asked of Lee.
"Uh uh," Lee shook his head. "Nope. He lost it last night."
"Fuck! Call Ryan's shop," Corey urged. "I'll put the alarm on. You haven't done it yet?"
"No, I was locking up the back. What's the number for Bodyworx
?"
"It's in the speed dial. Number six. Quick, do it."
Lee hastened to the phone while Corey headed for the control panel containing the workings of the alarm.
While Lee snatched up the telephone receiver and proceeded to punch in speed dial number six for Ryan's mechanic shop Bodyworx, Corey set about alarming the house and its boundaries. He was tempted to study the video monitor for signs of Haskell and their enemies, but suspected that none of them were actually on the premises. Probably hidden elsewhere, maybe on neighbouring roof tops.
Lee was standing with the receiver pressed to his ear, waiting expectantly. It was taking too long, they should have answered by now.
"Shit, no answer!" Lee babbled. "Nobody's picking up."
He waited another long couple of seconds, the Bodyworx telephone continuing to ring and ring with no result.
"Maybe they've left already," Caroline proposed, though that was not an attractive option. If the quartet had departed Bodyworx already there was no way of warning them of the peril they could be in.
"Maybe they just can't hear the phone," suggested Rachel helpfully.
"Damn it!" Lee hung the stubborn phone up with a savage flourish and punched the wall in angry frustration.
Tim was already dead and he sure as hell didn't want Ryan and Peter to join him amongst the ranks of deceased in early graves. The women wouldn't want Blaise and Jess to become part of the decimated either.
"What are we gonna do?" Serena wailed, literally wringing her pudgy hands in desperation.
"Somebody's gotta go there," Corey decided. "Hopefully intercept them if they've left already or maybe catch them before they do."
"Who can go?" Lee asked. "Only me or you know where the shop is. One of us?"
"Yep. I'll go," Corey affirmed.
"How?" Melissa wanted to know.
"I'll take my car. It's in the garage."
"If this freak is watching the driveway how do you plan on getting out of the garage without getting yourself killed?" Melissa asked, stunned by what Corey was proposing.