Joe Coffin [Season 4]

by Preston, Ken

  Chitrita opened the door and ushered them through. They were in a communal living space. Easy chairs and coffee tables were dotted around the large room. Paintings of landscapes and dogs and cats hung from the walls. The wallpaper was an elaborate flower design and there were lamps on tables.

  It might have looked nice but for the blood splattered over the walls and furniture, like Jackson Pollock had been asked to decorate using an open artery instead of a paint brush.

  Sitting in a wingback chair, looking like she was pretending to be a queen, was Steffanie. She was wearing an old wedding gown, its trail winding out in front of her. At her feet sat Michael. His hands were scarlet with blood and his face splattered with it. He was playing with a toy car on the carpet.

  He didn’t even look up as they entered.

  Sitting in another wingback chair next to Steffanie was Leola. She had been tied to the chair with strips of bed sheets, wound around and around her torso and arms and legs so that she was completely immobile. Another strip of bed sheet had been wrapped across her mouth and around the back of the chair, tying her head in place. Her eyes were wide and round but not with fear.

  With utter fury.

  Emma was fighting again, struggling against the vampire’s grip.

  ‘Let her go,’ Steffanie said in a bored voice.

  The vampire released Emma who jumped away from him and began rubbing her arms where he had held her.

  ‘You should tell toothy there he needs a bath,’ she said. ‘That man stinks like a mouldy old chicken carcass.’

  ‘Easy,’ Coffin said, holding out his hand to placate Emma.

  ‘It’s good to see you, Joe,’ Steffanie said.

  ‘Really?’ Coffin replied. ‘How come I always get the feeling I’m the last person you want to see?’

  Chitrita laughed as she sauntered across the blood flecked carpet to a third wingback chair next to Steffanie.

  On Steffanie’s other side, Leola continued to stare at Coffin.

  ‘You never told me he was so funny,’ Chitrita said.

  She sat down, placed the tip of her finger to her lip. Her lips were full and scarlet, looked almost like they were swollen with blood and about to pop. Her fingernails were long and curved.

  Steffanie reached over and took Chitrita’s other hand in hers. ‘It’s good to see you, because that means I can watch you die.’

  ‘Charming,’ Emma said. ‘You always attract such a high class kind of girl, Joe?’

  Steffanie flicked a hand at Emma. ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘Hey, you don’t remember me?’ Emma said. ‘I’m the reporter you talked to about sending your husband up shit creek without a paddle. You remember, all those lovely chats we had in country pubs, somewhere you wouldn’t be spotted.’

  Steffanie gazed at Emma for a couple of moments.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t remember you at all.’

  ‘Shall we kill her?’ Chitrita said.

  ‘That would be fun,’ Steffanie replied. She looked down at the boy sitting at her feet. ‘Why don’t we let Michael do it? He needs the practice.’

  Steffanie stroked the boy’s cheek, and he looked up at her. Bending down, she whispered in his ear and pointed at Emma.

  His eyes grew large and round, and his mouth opened in a smile.

  ‘No,’ Coffin said, taking a step toward Steffanie.

  A vampire stepped in front of him. The flesh on his face was saggy and wrinkled and his hair had been combed over his scalp in thin wisps. Despite his appearance he radiated power.

  Coffin stayed where he was.

  Michael stood up.

  ‘Steffanie, don’t do this,’ Coffin said.

  Michael had started growling, and his lips were contorting into a snarl, baring his pointed teeth.

  ‘Oh, fuck,’ Emma whispered.

  Chitrita leaned forward in her chair. ‘This is going to be fun.’

  ‘Steffanie, do not do this thing,’ Coffin said.

  ‘Go get her,’ Steffanie hissed in Michael’s ear.

  With a full throated snarl, Michael leapt to his feet. He immediately squatted down again, getting on all fours, and scuttled across the carpet towards Emma. She turned and sprinted for the door, to be stopped by the tall, thin vampire. He grinned at her.

  Coffin planted his hand on the old vampire’s chest and shoved him out of the way. Before Coffin had even taken two steps the vampire was on him along with a second one and they were pulling him to the ground.

  ‘Keep hold of him!’ Steffanie yelled. ‘But get him on his feet again. I want him to watch.’

  Michael was circling Emma, growling continuously. His lips were pulled right back, showing his teeth and his gums. He looked more like a crazed animal. Emma kept her eyes on him constantly. At the moment she let her guard down and looked away, the boy vampire would be on top of her.

  She moved slowly across the room, stepping sideways away from the vampire blocking the exit. Perhaps she could escape through one of the windows. But would she have time to open it before Michael was on top of her?

  Emma doubted it.

  But right now that was the best idea she had.

  Coffin was on his feet again, a vampire standing either side of him, their hands on him.

  ‘Michael, Michael,’ Coffin said. ‘Look at me son, look at me, it’s Daddy.’

  Michael ignored Coffin. He only had eyes for Emma. A long strand of saliva drooled from his bottom lip.

  Emma’s thigh hit a table. She stopped moving.

  This was no good. What did she think she was doing? Where was she going?

  On the periphery of her vision she could see a vase with some wilted flowers on the table she had walked in to. Slowly she reached out her hand and placed her fingers around its neck. She picked it up, turning it upside down to empty out the flowers and the water.

  Michael watched, fascinated.

  ‘Michael,’ Coffin said again, raising his voice.

  The boy ignored him.

  His growling grew in intensity and then he leaped at Emma.

  She swung the vase at him, connecting with the side of his head. The vase shattered and Michael hit the floor and rolled over. He jumped up onto all fours again and shook his head.

  Emma had run to another table, another vase of flowers.

  Coffin hung his head. He had to look away even if just for a moment.

  Michael was growling again.

  Steffanie and Chitrita, still holding hands, watched intently.

  Emma held the vase out like a weapon. It was a long, thin glass vase. The boy eyed it uneasily. Being hit over the head with the other vase obviously hurt him.

  ‘Joe, you got any ideas?’ Emma said.

  Coffin looked up.

  ‘Try smashing the vase,’ he said. ‘You can use the broken end as a weapon. Go for his eyes, his mouth, his throat.’

  Emma stared at him horrified.

  ‘He’ll kill you, unless you kill him,’ Coffin said. ‘You’ve got to at least disable him.’

  ‘I don’t think I can do that,’ Emma said. ‘He’s just a child, he’s your child.’

  Michael’s growling was growing in intensity again. He was getting ready to attack.

  ‘You’ve seen what he can do,’ Coffin said. ‘He’s not my boy anymore, he’s a monster.’

  Michael sprinted across the room. He was squealing and waving his arms. Emma knocked the end of the vase against the table, but it simply bounced off.

  Michael jumped on Emma, clawing at her clothes and her hair. They both staggered and almost fell over. Emma hit Michael on the back of the head in an attempt to dislodge him. Coffin could hear the sickening thump of glass against bone across the other side of the room.

  The boy let go of Emma and scurried away, behind her. She spun around, trying to keep him in her sights at all time.

  The boy ran away and behind the wingback chairs, whimpering and rubbing his head.

  Steffanie rolled her eyes and sighed. ‘Tha
t boy is such a disappointment.’

  Chitrita let go of Steffanie’s hand and stood up. She lifted a hand and curled her fingers in a come here gesture. More vampires appeared from the shadowed corners of the large room. Coffin hadn’t realised they were there.

  Any ideas he’d had about fighting his way out of here disappeared. There were too many. His only hope was to wait it out, see what Steffanie and Chitrita were planning. If they had intended killing Coffin and Emma, surely they would have done that by now.

  No, Coffin had an idea that Steffanie in particular wanted to see Coffin suffer.

  ‘Take them,’ Chitrita said. ‘Tie them to the chairs.’

  Coffin saw Micheal peeking out from behind the two winged back chairs.

  Steffanie and Chitrita stood up.

  Two vampires each guided Coffin and Emma to the chairs. More vampires appeared, carrying lengths of ripped bed sheets.

  They were prepared, they’d thought this through. Planned it.

  The vampires shoved Coffin into the chair and began winding the ripped sheets around him, tying them together until he was completely immobile. His wrists were tied together and then his hands pulled up and behind his head where another length of ripped sheet was tied to his hands and then pulled down behind the chair and underneath it where the other end was tied to his ankles.

  He felt like a turkey trussed up for Christmas.

  They tied Emma’s arms to the chair armrests and left her feet free.

  She twisted her head and looked at Coffin.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘We’re going to get out of here.’

  Steffanie laughed, flicking her fiery red hair off her face. The ruined side of her face was in shadow, but Coffin could still see the empty eye socket, the holes in her cheek and the chipped, ruined teeth.

  She drew closer to him, bending down over him. She ran her fingers up his thigh.

  Coffin felt completely exposed.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he said.

  ‘Having some fun,’ Steffanie whispered.

  Her hand left his thigh and travelled up his abdomen, up to his chest. The touch from her long fingernail was soft. Steffanie’s hand hovered at his throat, her fingers barely touching his flesh. She looked into his eyes, and Coffin could see nothing in that gaze.

  Nothing human, at least.

  Steffanie drew closer. Behind the chair, Michael squirmed to get a better view of what was going on.

  Steffanie was close enough now that Coffin could feel her breath on his cheek. His arms and his back were starting to hurt from the position he had been pulled in to. Steffanie’s hand left his throat and began travelling down his torso again, her single finger tracing a path down to his abdomen.

  ‘How would you like to be one of us, Joe?’ she whispered. ‘You and me, back together? Michael, your son once more. We could be a family.’

  The stink of decay filled Coffin’s nostrils. He could smell death on her breath, on her flesh. Her empty eye socket was crusty with dried blood. The torn edges of her flesh where the shotgun pellets had ripped her cheek apart were green and rotten.

  ‘I’d rather try fucking a lion,’ Coffin said. ‘I’d fancy my chances more.’

  Steffanie chuckled. Her hand had reached his trouser belt now. She undid the buckle and slipped the belt free.

  ‘We’ll see,’ she whispered.

  One handed she popped the button undone at the top of his trousers and then pulled his zip down.

  She slipped her hand down inside his pants.

  Coffin inhaled sharply.

  ‘Hmmm,’ she murmured.

  Coffin twisted his head away. There was a cold fire in the pit of his stomach, burning bright. He closed his eyes and ground his teeth together as she slowly massaged him.

  ‘Do you like this?’ Steffanie whispered.

  Coffin said nothing, the stink of death in his nose, at the back of his throat. He could feel her crawling through his mind, opening him up, exposing him.

  Steffanie withdrew her hand and Coffin gasped.

  He opened his eyes, saw her gathering up the wedding dress, folds and folds of it bunching in between them.

  She straddled him. Placed her hands on his shoulders and her forehead against his and lowered herself on him.

  Coffin turned his head away again, trying to avoid the rancid smell of death.

  He grunted as she slid herself on to him. She was cold, so cold.

  Steffanie began moving up and down on him, her hair falling over his face, her foul breath caressing his cheek.

  Coffin screwed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw so hard he thought he might fracture his teeth. There was a scream building inside of him, but he couldn’t let it out.

  He couldn’t.

  why do you always have to spoil it, joe?

  Archer and Choudhry had to crouch and run to get through the mass of bats.

  The bats nipped at their scalps and their hands, any spot they could find that was bare flesh. At times the air was so thick with the bats that Archer and Choudhry were running blind, relying on their memory of the road and the house ahead of them to get them there. Archer panted with the effort of running. It was hard to breathe. His leg hurt and his limp hindered him, but he couldn’t stop. Not now he was in the thick of all the bats.

  Archer collided with Choudhry who had stopped, doubled so far over his head was almost between his knees.

  ‘I think we’ve gone too far!’ he shouted.

  Archer could only just hear him over the noise of the bats darting around and above them. The rustling of wings beating against the air was magnified to such a degree that it was a physical wave washing over them. And Archer was sure he could hear the clicking of the bats that was supposedly beyond human hearing.

  Archer grabbed Choudhry by the arm. ‘Which way? I’ve lost my bearings!’

  Choudhry got hold of Archer. They were almost embracing and doubled over still.

  ‘This way, I think!’

  They ran, keeping low to the ground, Choudhry pulling Archer along. It felt like they were in a black cloud of beating wings and hurtling bodies. Of teeth and claws. Archer thought he might go mad if he spent much longer here.

  Choudhry tripped and fell and Archer went with him.

  ‘It’s the kerb!’ Choudhry shouted. ‘We tripped over the kerb, we’re back on the pavement.’

  Archer hadn’t even realised they had left the pavement and been running down the middle of the road. On all fours they crawled forward until they got to a brick wall. Choudhry grabbed Archer again and pulled him close.

  ‘I know where we are!’ he hissed. ‘We need to keep moving down this way. The house is down here.’

  Archer nodded. Choudhry began crawling again and Archer followed him. Something warm dripped into Archer’s eye. He wiped at it. In the darkness created by the mass of swirling bats he couldn’t see what was smeared over his fingertips, but he was pretty sure it would be blood. The bats were attacking with increasing ferocity as Archer and Choudhry got closer to the house.

  Nothing was going to stop Archer getting in there. Not if Emma was in there, and potentially in danger.

  ‘Here!’ Choudhry motioned at Archer to follow him and they crawled through an open gateway.

  Archer thought he saw a glimmer of yellow light, from a window perhaps. His leg was on fire now where Michael had bitten him. Archer wasn’t even sure if he would be able to stand up again once they got inside the house and away from the bats.

  Choudhry crawled up a step and Archer followed him. They shuffled through a doorway and inside the house. The bats followed them, darting into and around the reception hall.

  Choudhry kicked at the door. It slammed shut. The bats outside slammed into the door, making thudding noises like a crowd of children were throwing tennis balls at the house.

  Archer gasped. It suddenly felt like he could breathe again. He looked anxiously up at the bats, but they were darting to and fro high up near the ceiling. They did
n’t seem to like being inside and came nowhere near Archer and Choudhry on the floor. They flew over to the window where the bats outside were gathering.

  The two men looked at each other.

  ‘You’re bleeding,’ Choudhry said, touching his forehead.

  ‘So are you,’ Archer replied, indicating his cheek.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ Choudhry said.

  ‘It’s the vampires, it’s got to be. They must have the bats under some kind of control.’

  Choudhry ran his hand through his hair. ‘I thought we were going to die out there.’

  Archer got up onto his knees and then onto his feet. His leg hurt, hot spikes of pain shooting through his thigh, but he could stand.

  ‘You all right, Boss?’ Choudhry asked as he stood up.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ Archer glanced around. ‘We need to keep our eyes peeled. We don’t know who might be in this place.’

  ‘What do you think it is, some kind of old people’s home?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Archer said.

  The two men jumped and turned as a drumming sound started up. The bats were hurling themselves at the windows. The glass panes shivered beneath each impact.

  ‘You think they’re trying to get in?’ Choudhry said.

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

  Movement, behind them. The two men turned their backs on the windows. A frail, old lady in a dressing gown stood by the reception desk. Her white hair was long and tied back, the ponytail draped over her right shoulder. She had a hand on the desk to steady herself. Her fingers were swollen with arthritis and the back of her hand covered in liver spots.

  Archer and Choudhry glanced at each other.

  ‘Don’t be frightened, we’re police officers,’ Archer said.

  He pulled his ID out and flipped the plastic wallet open.

  The old lady regarded him silently through watering, rheumy eyes.

  ‘Are you the only one here?’ Choudhry said. ‘Are there others?’

  The old lady hobbled a few steps closer. Her bony legs protruded from a pair of large slippers. The fronts of the slippers had big, yellow bobbles for eyes and fur underneath, like her slippers were a face with a moustache.