by Mark Ayre
“Well, well, Mercury. I think the game might be up.”
Twenty-Three
Eyes-wide, bleeding profusely, Paul hovered, staring at his attacker. Gina smiled. Satisfied with a job well done.
An eternity passed in which Will watched the woman he loved and the man she was killing face each other, like lovers but with more blood and less affection.
At last, Paul stepped back. A man of action, his plan had likely been to extract himself from the knife before punching his attacker.
As a result of his blood loss, he collapsed. From his bum on the floor, he had no hope of incapacitating anyone but himself.
Will wanted to plead with his wife but was unable. Trapped within this facsimile might be the real, saveable Gina. Until he located the key to her cell, he was dealing with a stranger.
Unlike his wife, no one could reason with this Gina. Physical action was the alternative. As Gina approached Paul, hoping to finish the job she had started, Will shifted as far forward as his handcuffs would permit. Feet together pulled back, he fired them, hitting her legs and sending her sprawling across the living room with a cry of frustration and humiliation.
“William,” she called.
He wasn’t looking at her. To Paul, he said, “I need your help.”
Gina was on her feet, face burning, knife tight in her grasp. Earlier, she had claimed nothing could move her to murder her husband. Will planned to test that statement.
Paul rose as Gina approached. She came at him with the knife, and he grabbed her arm, throwing her towards Will. As she stumbled, Will caught her with his legs, stopping her from chasing Paul, who rushed to the sofa, keeping his head bowed as though to avoid low flying aeroplanes.
“Off,” shouted Gina, stamping on Will’s foot.
Recoiling out of instinct, Will allowed Gina free. She turned to glare at him. When she returned to Paul, he was bringing the doorstop dog in an arc.
Crashing into the side of her face, it sent her spinning twice in a pirouette, before collapsing. Blood from her face splashed the wall. The knife span into the room’s corner.
For the second time, Gina had been rendered unconscious by the dog. After her previous quick recovery, Will and Paul should have jumped to ensuring if she woke again, she would be unable to do further damage.
Gina’s blood on the wall, winding its way down the paintwork, proved too great a distraction.
Steam rose from the trail as the paint began to peel. As well as rolling down, the blood was sinking into the wall as it burned through plasterboard.
“Told you,” said Paul, and collapsed.
With no distractions, Will might have stared at the blood for an hour. Except, it couldn’t be his wife’s blood. Acid, maybe, sprayed from a bottle. A setup. A cruel trick.
Paul hitting the deck recalled Will’s focus to his predicament. Chained to a radiator, he was trapped. At any second, Gina might wake. Still bleeding, without immediate medical attention, Paul might die.
Gina lay on her side. The doorstop dog’s bite had drawn blood from her nose and mouth, as well as the carpet facing side of her forehead. Defying Will’s bottle of acid theory, the drip, drip, drip of blood was disintegrating the carpet and getting to work on the boarding.
If something or someone had changed Will’s wife, they hadn’t only warped her personality.
Unable to analyse the situation effectively while chained to a radiator, Will called to Paul several times but got no response.
There was nothing acidic about Paul’s blood. Will was watching him die.
Will had to break free to save Paul. If freedom was achievable, he had to find it before Gina woke or Heidi arrived. If he’d had a magic eight ball, it would have called his chances bleak.
On the front lawn lay his mobile, well out of reach. From this distance, he couldn’t tell if the impact had cracked the screen.
If, upon examining his surroundings, he had found a saw, he could agonise over whether to chop off his hand. As he would never find the courage to start cutting, let alone finish, it was for the best the option was unavailable.
Gina lay just out of reach, along with any mobile she might carry. Even further was bleeding Paul.
In crept despondency. Unfairly, since Paul had first taken out Gina, they were back to square one. Will chained to the radiator, Paul on the executioner’s block. There had to be a route to freedom.
Thirty seconds of slowly sinking into despair passed before the answer popped into his mind, as if from nowhere.
Trying to contain hope which expanded like a balloon, Will twisted and got to his knees.
The radiator to which Gina had chained him was attached to the wall beneath the living room window. Each of the openable windows had push buttons on the handles, and each of these handles contained a keyhole.
No keys in sight, but the closest window was unlocked.
Swinging it open, Will could lean into the fresh air, taking a refreshing blast which cleared his head and moved him closer to freedom.
Across the street, a level up, Xyla’s bedroom window remained lit. Inside, presumably, Kayla sat with her baby, persisting with the futile pursuit of soothing the mite to sleep.
With Edie, Gina and Will had taken shifts. Kayla was alone. Despite his predicament, Will felt a wave of pity for his ex-colleague.
She wasn’t in the window.
In arm’s reach, Will had nothing he could throw at the door or windows across the street. Should he find something, he had neither the strength to accomplish the distance nor the accuracy to achieve the target.
Only time was available to him, and little of that.
With no options, Will waited, leaning out the window, eyes on the house across the street, searching for any hint of movement. All the while, he kept an ear behind him; afraid Gina might rise, afraid Paul never would.
Though he had little else to occupy his mind, Will tried to refrain from considering his wife’s condition. The acidic blood; whether he could revert her to the love of his life.
Ten minutes that felt ten times as long passed.
Kayla came to the window.
In her arms, Xyla continued to cry. Forcing himself as far through the window as he could manage without breaking his arm, Will waved in ridiculously large arcs, madly, as though having a fit.
Eyes on her baby, at first it seemed Kayla would never look out the window to which she had walked. Having seen plenty of movies Will was sure she would notice his movement in the corner of her eye, but turn a second after Gina had pulled Will from sight. While Kayla told herself she imagined the sight, Gina would slit Will’s throat, proving herself a liar as well as a cheat.
Spooked by these thoughts, Will had to fight to resist looking at his wife. Though his arm ached, he continued to drag it through treacle-like air.
Kayla began to turn. Will couldn’t believe she wasn’t going to see him.
Shoulder to the window, she stopped. Twisting her head, she caught sight of waving Will. Stared.
So relieved he could cry, Will stopped waving. Changing from a gesture that said, Come over here, he tried for something more complicated. Please leave the comfort and warmth of your home to bring your crying baby to the place of a man you dislike at the behest of a man you do like but hardly know.
Worry in her eyes, Kayla disappeared from the window.
Knackered, Will collapsed over the sill, head towards the grubby dirt and dying grass below. No sound of movement behind. In all likelihood Paul was dead, Gina preparing to wake.
When his stomach began to ache from being draped across the windowsill, Will forced himself up and began to recede into the house of doom. As he did, the door across the street opened, and Kayla appeared.
Turning to the two still bodies in the living room, Will realised, to someone who believed he had come here to confront his cheating wife and the man she lay with, this might not be the easiest setup to explain.
Too late, he heard the ajar front door swing bac
k, and Kayla step inside.
Twenty-Four
Either experience or her unwanted guest had sharpened Mercury’s reflexes.
As Leon was revealing to his comrades that Mercury was not Heidi, she was withdrawing the car keys from her pocket. As Yassin was smiling, telling her the game was up, she was pressing them into Edie’s hand while grabbing Leon’s shirt.
By the time Yassin shut up and started thinking about action, Mercury was stepping forward and to the side, putting herself between Edie and the rest. With a yank, she lifted Leon off the ground and swung him in a smooth swoop while using her free hand to nudge Edie in the small of her back.
“Car. Across the road. Number plate ends in HFR. Run.”
Like a battering ram, Leon crashed Imran into Yassin who stumbled into Sammy.
Yassir’s shoulder only nudged Sammy, but the teenager disappeared into the kitchen like a magic trick. This answered another question.
Like Mercury, a demon had possessed Yassin.
Despite her fear and nervous temperament, Edie followed Mercury’s instructions and bolted across the tarmac, heading for the car as Sammy disappeared and Imran crumpled.
Too fast, Yassin regained his balance.
With a hop, Mercury was outside. Knowing Yassin would be after her in a split second, she slammed the door. Knowing, to him, the thick block of wood would be like a sheet of paper, she didn’t trust it’s protection.
No sooner was it closed, she lifted her foot. With all her might, she kicked the door, dead centre.
Hinges snapping, it crumpled under the power of her kick, disappearing into the house. Surprised, Yassin and the door’s remains flew backwards, landing at the foot of the stairs.
Turning, Mercury bounded across the tarmac, dived over the bonnet and swung into the car.
A clever girl, Edie had opened the driver side door and put the keys in the ignition.
Not so bright, Mercury had left the car pointing towards the dead-end of the cul de sac. To escape, they needed to be pointing in the other direction.
Yassin appeared from the house. A hard-wood chair exited through the kitchen window. Followed by Sammy.
Mercury started the car.
Behind Yassin, Imran appeared, then Leon.
Yassin started to run.
Fearful of stalling but terrified of capture, Mercury put the car in reverse and spun the wheel. Due to a lapse of judgement, she had never trained as a stunt driver for action films. As a result, the move was clunky, taking far too long.
Like an arrow, Sammy, Leon and Imran approached with Sammy as the point. None would reach her in time, and none were the main threat.
Appearing from her clunky manoeuvre, Mercury faced the street’s exit. With reckless abandon, she slammed the accelerator. In response, the engine roared.
As if asleep or having forgotten what Mercury’s actions and the sound of the engine meant, the car failed to move.
Worse, a horrible grinding came from underneath. The wheels span. Mercury pushed harder on the pedal, struggling to fathom what had happened.
Then, the back of the car rose from the ground. Edie and Mercury jerked forward. Edie jolted in her seatbelt and Mercury smashed her head off the steering wheel.
Cackling, roaring with glee, the infected arrived. Banging on Edie’s window, Imran yanked the handle, drawing a scream from Edie. On Mercury’s side, Leon already looked exhausted from the exertion of much the same action.
At the car’s front, a calm Sammy placed his hands on the bonnet, stared at Edie. Longing and lust in his eyes.
The frightened teenager cried, “What are we going to do?”
Because she didn’t want to answer, Good question, Mercury ignored the girl. She shoved the car into reverse and slammed the accelerator again. Nothing happened. Before she looked, she knew Yassin was behind the car, holding it two feet from the ground.
The situation was not conducive to reflection and careful thought. A shame, as this was what Mercury needed.
She didn’t fear for herself so much as for Edie. If Mercury were knocked unconscious during a fight she would be leaving the teen with two demons and three infected maniacs. One of whom, if allowed, would do to her unthinkable things.
Even if Mercury didn’t become Heidi, it would only take a second for something to happen to Edie. It couldn’t be allowed.
Enemies on four sides. None mattered but Yassin.
Still, she had to deal with them, or leave Edie at their mercy.
Or did she?
To Edie, Mercury said, “I’m going to unlock the doors.”
Edie greeted this suggestion with a terror filled stare. Ignoring that, Mercury continued, “When I do, you must press this button—” she indicated the switch that would lower Edie’s window. “Think you can do that?”
Edie shook her head. With a fist, Yassin smashed the back window.
“We don’t do this now,” said Mercury, “they’re going to get in. Please, tell me you can press this button when I say go.”
A little longer, Edie waited. Yassin swept his arm across the back. He called to Sammy, who abandoned the car’s front. Mercury knew, any second, in would climb the demented teen.
“Edie?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
“Good girl.” She gave Edie a second to get her composure then, “Go.”
Mercury pressed unlock, grabbed her handle, and shoved her door open with such force the hinges buckled.
Metal smashed Leon’s stomach. He shot back, denting the garage door of the poor unsuspecting family at number sixteen.
Down rolled Edie’s window.
Sammy was coming around the back of the car. Paused to see his father fly.
Imran’s hands came through the window to grab Edie. As she screamed, Mercury reached over and grabbed Imran.
Shocked, eyes widening, he attempted retreat.
Too late.
Mercury yanked him into the car, over Edie. Twisted his body. Since Yassin had smashed the back window, her plans had changed, she knew what she had to do. The space was tight. It would be almost impossible.
Over the shock of seeing his father disappear, Sammy moved to stand beside Yassin.
Like a spear, Mercury lined Imran up between the front seats, even as he flailed, making it complicated.
“Hey,” said Yassin, as though Imran was doing it on purpose.
Mercury threw the young man with as much force as she could manage in tight quarters.
Had Yassin stayed still, Imran would have crumpled against the demon.
Instinct took over. The demon raised his hands to grab the flying man.
Imran had been Yassin’s son. Now the demon in Yassin’s body cast the infected Imran over his shoulder like a litterer dispensing of an empty water bottle.
Satisfied, Yassin returned to the car and realised what he’d done.
As Imran sailed through the air, the car fell with a crash. Hoping it would still go, Mercury slammed the accelerator.
She had forgotten to take them out of reverse.
They hit Yassin. Though he had the strength to lift the car, taken by surprise, it still sent him spinning, tumbling to the concrete, too far to reach the bumper.
Mercury slammed the break, forced the gearstick into first.
Already, Yassin was rising.
Once again, she hit the accelerator. It had to work. There would be no chance for third time lucky.
The second attempt had luck enough. With a roar, the car shot from Edie’s home, towards freedom.
Mercury checked the rearview, watching with satisfaction as Yassin grew smaller and smaller.
Until Sammy’s head appeared, blocking her view.
Edie screamed again.
When Mercury had reversed, Sammy must have grabbed on.
Grim determination and child-like excitement on his face, he began to climb through the shattered window.
At the top of the road, where a T-Junction presented two rou
tes of escape, Mercury slammed the breaks and spun the wheel.
When the car stopped, she was at an angle. The back of the vehicle in line with number one’s front door.
The spin had jolted Sammy. He slid, almost fell but clung on, half in, half out.
Mercury had no desire to cause potentially expensive damage to the home of innocent strangers. Already, she felt guilty for damaging number sixteen’s boot.
Checking the rearview, Mercury saw Sammy once again clawing into the back. Eyes fixed upon Edie.
The look recalled to Mercury Sammy’s dead mother and sister, lying in a bed in the family home. That decided her.
Putting the car in reverse, she slammed the accelerator.
For a couple of seconds, Sammy didn’t realise they were going backwards.
When he did, when he looked from Edie to Mercury and saw grim determination in her eyes, he gulped and turned for a sneak preview of what approached.
A wood door covered in chipped blue paint, housed in dirt-smeared red brick. In frosted glass, the car, with Sammy affixed to the back, grew larger every second.
Before he could pull himself in or throw himself clear, car hit door with Sammy the meat of the sandwich.
Glass shattered. Sammy screamed. A sickening crunch tore through the night as bones from his toes to his waist twisted, snapped, shattered.
The scream died fast in his throat. Pale skin encircled wide eyes of shock.
When Mercury put the car in first and accelerated, Sammy slid noiselessly from the back of the car, dropping to the tarmac.
Sensing the fear in Edie, Mercury put a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“Right. Shall we go find your father?”
Twenty-Five
This time, it was Vicious.
In burst the door as though someone was trying to use it to smash through the wall. Before Trey could react; could begin to rise and clear his bleary eyes, two thick hands grabbed the duvet and Trey within.
Head covered, body tangled, he came to the floor. Panic arriving like lightning, Trey clawed at the sheets, desperate for release.
Sensing Trey’s distress, Vicious spied the head within the duvet and around it clamped his hands.