Richard began to squeeze the trigger. Any second now and Adam’s wretched life would be over.
Just do it, goddamn do it.
The revolver lowered to the ground and Richard howled, suddenly sounding like the old man he was. “Damn the day she ever met you, Adam.”
“Richard, just pull the trigger. You’ve already killed people tonight, so what’s the problem?”
“I have killed no one, unlike you!”
Adam frowned. “What? What about Kevin? What about Margaret?”
“I never killed them. We weren’t supposed to kill anybody but you. The rest of you swine were only supposed to get a warning. I thought that, after barely surviving the night, they might stop taking their lives for granted. Only you were supposed to die tonight. He went too far. This isn’t what I wanted.”
Adam took a step forward, certain that his father-in-law wasn’t going to shoot him. “Richard, no one else has to get hurt.”
“I’m sorry, it’s too late. He’s crazy. All of you are going to—”
Richard flew sidewards and hit the tarmac. Adam raced over to him and rolled him onto his back, but the old, strong as an ox, ex-police officer was gone. A red cauliflower of blood spread from directly above his heart. Katy’s father was dead, the last of her family. The last of who she was.
And it’s because of me and what I did.
Adam stood and faced the woods. “You fucking piece of shit! Why are you doing this? What the hell are you trying to achieve? He was an old man grieving over his dead daughter, his dead wife, his dead grandson. What the hell do you want?”
Costa stepped out of the shadows, cradling a long wooden-stocked rifle. He pointed it straight at Adam. “I want you, bitch!”
Adam turned and sprinted towards the community centre, certain he would be dead before he even made it halfway.
Adam had limped more than a dozen metres to meet with his father-in-law, which meant he would need to beat a full-on sprint across the car park to make it back to safety, but it was impossible with his various injuries. Every painful stride he took was punctuated by the wet tarmac erupting at his feet as a bullet hit the ground. He didn’t know if Costa was missing his shots on purpose or if each was a near miss.
What relationship does Costa have to Katy’s father?
Why is he doing this?
Adam felt a bee sting the back of his right leg, and suddenly he was falling, crashing forward onto his hands and knees. The community centre was right in front of him, but he knew he would never make it. There was something else to his left, however, that might just offer him a sliver of safety. The low brick wall around the old elm tree was only a few feet away. If he could just get behind it.
Adam picked himself up on one leg and threw himself at the brick wall. There was another crack and another bee sting, this time at the back of his arm already troubled by a badly bruised elbow. Fortunately, he was already airborne, and the momentum took him up over the wall and onto the other side. There he took cover, panting, moaning, sobbing. Bleeding.
I’ve been shot.
Twice.
“Why are you doing this, Costa?”
“Because you deserve it.”
“You don’t even know me.”
From behind the wall, Adam couldn’t see Costa, but his voice was close. Frighteningly close. “I’ve been listening to you unburden yourself every week for six months. I know everything there is to know about you. You’re a selfish piece of shit who killed his family.”
Adam was losing his temper. As much as he loathed himself for what he had done, he was sick and tired of having it thrown in his face. He’d offered to let Richard kill him, but his father-in-law had failed to take advantage. No way was he going to take this shit from some younger man he barely knew.
“Fuck you, Costa. You’re an alcoholic too. You should understand what it’s like.”
A laugh whipped through the drizzle. “I’m nothing like you, Adam. I don’t have a drinking problem. I barely even touch the stuff.”
“Then why the hell have you been coming to our group?”
“BECAUSE YOU KILLED MY SISTER!”
Costa appeared on Adam’s left, aiming his rifle and pulling the trigger. Adam rolled aside just as the bricks behind him exploded. His right leg cramped like it was made of cement, and he could only drag it along behind him as he hurried desperately for the safety of the foyer. There was another crack of rifle fire, but the bullet lodged in the brickwork of the community centre. No other shots followed, and Adam considered – and prayed – that Costa might have run out of ammunition. Rifles didn’t fire forever.
Tasha was in the foyer calling for him. Adam reached out for her and she grabbed his arm, yanking him inside. She hurried him through the double doors and into the hall, then slammed them shut. The doors rattled as a gunshot struck the other side. The wood cracked and bulged, the bullet lodged within. They were too flimsy to withstand an assault.
Tasha held Adam as he collapsed. “You’re bleeding all over.”
Patrick was holding his head in his hands. “I’m now banning anyone from going outside.”
Adam tried to stay standing, but he couldn’t. He slumped to the ground and lay there, his body useless. “My father-in-law is dead. Costa shot him. He’s insane. I think he took this a lot further than he was supposed to.”
Patrick moaned. “But why?”
“He said I-I killed his sister. I-I don’t know what he meant. Katy had no s-s-siblings.”
“You’re freezing,” said Tasha. “Christ! Patrick, get me something to warm him up. Fetch me that blanket.”
“What? It’s covering Kevin.”
“Adam needs it more. He’s losing blood.”
Patrick muttered under his breath, then moved towards the large mound nearby that was Kevin’s body. He reached down and tugged the corner of the blanket. “I’m sorry about this, Kevin.”
He pulled the blanket away and then screamed.
John turned his head, half-conscious, and smiled somewhat deliriously. “Guess we found Betty.”
Adam had to squint to see because Patrick’s torch was wavering all over the place. Eventually, he realised that Betty’s corpse had been laid next to Kevin’s beneath the blanket. His bulk was so colossal that she was nestled against his side without making his silhouette any larger beneath the blanket. A transparent plastic bag covered Betty’s face. She’d been suffocated.
Tasha bent over and vomited. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”
Patrick teetered on the spot, looking like he might pass out. Adam went to get up off the floor, but he was too tired. He just needed a minute. A minute not to be in pain.
Another window shattered and Costa looked in at them, a maniacal grin on his face as he lifted his rifle into the gap. “Anybody up for shots?”
There was nowhere to take cover. Adam was a broken mess on the floor. Patrick was a trembling mess. And Tasha was standing right in the middle of the room. The only one who seemed unconcerned was John. “Costa,” he said, “if it was you that messed with my Range Rover, expect a bloody bill.”
Costa smirked. “What’s the price of a battery these days? I’ll consider it worth it. I’ve been planning tonight for more than six months. You people know there’s a first aid kit in the kitchen, right? There’s no need to be bleeding all over the place like this. To think I had to let that old bitch wrap my arm with her dirty old tights because no one had the brains to look for bandages.”
“Did you cut your own arm?” asked Tasha. “You’re insane.”
“I didn’t cut myself. My dear old dad did that. We had to make it look real.”
Adam flinched. “Your dad?”
Costa glared at Adam. “I’m surprised you haven’t worked it out. I’ll give you a minute to think about it. Then I’m going to kill you.”
Adam considered what he knew about Costa. He had recently lost his mother to cancer and had left the army to care for her. On her death bed she had told him about his
…
Birth father.
Costa leant through the broken window, a smirk on his face. A face that was ever so slightly familiar.
He has Katy’s eyes.
Adam shook his head in disbelief. “Richard was the father your mother told you about before she died.”
“You got it, buster. Mum told me about the married police officer that used to come see her on the estate, about how he used to pick her up and drop her whenever it suited him. When I first tracked him down, I was going to kill him for how he treated her, but when he learned who I was, he was happy. I hadn’t expected that. Apparently, he had always felt bad about my mother, and he was genuinely sad to hear that she had died. I gave him a pass.”
“He’s lying dead outside. Is that a pass?”
“I said I gave him a pass, not a pardon. I was always going to deal with him eventually, but when I met him, I learned all about the lovely sister I never even knew I had – and a beautiful young nephew. My whole life opened up as I realised I wasn’t alone in the world. I had a family. I was a brother. I was an uncle. The only problem was that they were both dead. My sister’s drunk-ass husband had burned them to death in their beds. My father was a broken man when I found him, but he lit up during those first few months as he showed me pictures of Katy and James. He told me all about them until it almost felt like I had known them myself. Like I had lost them.”
Tasha started edging towards the doors, but Costa aimed the rifle at her and she shook her head.
“Just let us go,” she begged. “This is madness.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have got involved then, sweetheart.”
Tasha flinched.
“Didn’t think I knew about that, did you?”
Adam could barely move, but he looked at Tasha. “What is he talking about?”
Costa chuckled. “You were all quick enough to suspect me, I’m sure, but why did no one cast a suspicious eye on the girl who just happened to join the group tonight of all nights? Don’t you think it’s suspicious?”
Patrick glared at Tasha. “I knew I didn’t like you. What did you do?”
“Nothing! I have nothing to do with this.”
“Bullshit!” said Costa. “Tell them the truth.”
“Yes,” said Patrick, moving towards her with his fists clenched. “Tell us the truth right now.”
“I know Richard,” she blurted out, “but I didn’t know he was the one doing this tonight. I-I didn’t know…”
The shock gave Adam a burst of life and he pulled himself onto the nearest chair. Covered in rainwater and blood, he was dizzy, but still conscious – which he saw as being somewhat miraculous. “Tasha, how do you know Richard?”
“Because I interviewed him for the local paper.”
Adam frowned. “What?”
“After my brother died, I got a job at the local newspaper. I interviewed him about the fire that killed your family right after it happened. I followed your trial too, Adam, but I was just doing my job. Two weeks ago, Richard called me up and told me you were out of prison and going to these meetings. He paid me to join up and report the things you said tonight. I was supposed to find out whether or not you felt remorse.
“He wanted justice for Katy and James,” said Costa. “He was going to murder Adam and have you report the whole thing – the theatrics, the terror, all of it. It would have gone viral, and the whole world would have known what Adam did and what he was killed for. You weren’t here to report on Adam’s alcoholism. You were put here to report his agonising death after an unjust system gave him too light a sentence. Richard wanted his last act to be one of a good father protecting his daughter’s memory.”
Patrick moved towards Tasha. His fists were still clenched. “You took advantage of our group. You invaded the privacy of our members. Did you poison the brownies, too?”
“No, that was me,” said Costa. “Little trick I picked up in the Paras. Thought it would be fun to start with an unexpected death.”
Adam’s pulse was pounding in his eardrums, but he heard enough to confuse him. “You said you were in the Signals.”
“I was, but then I got my wings and learned how to kill better. Sorry, I wasn’t honest about that earlier, but, you know, I planned on killing you.”
Adam nodded. “Yeah, fair enough. So what are you waiting for?”
Costa looked at his wrist. “It’s only quarter past four. No need to rush.”
“Just put an end to this,” said Tasha. “If you’re going to kill us then do it, but don’t drag me into your little plot. I had nothing to do—”
Patrick swung his fist and hit Tasha in the side of the head. She yelped in surprise and toppled into the semi-circle of chairs before crashing heavily to the ground. Adam couldn’t tell if she was out for the count, but Patrick followed up his brutal sucker-punch with a vicious stomp.
“Oh, that’s got to hurt,” said Costa gleefully, his rifle hanging lazily over the windowsill.
“Hey, stop that,” said John, in a voice so weak it was almost a whisper.
Adam was a wreck, but he couldn’t sit by and do nothing while Patrick beat a young woman. He glanced at Costa and saw that the young murderer was focused on the violence. It was possible that Adam might be able to make a move without getting shot.
Take advantage of the distraction.
Patrick kicked Tasha again but she didn’t moan, which suggested she was unconscious. “You fucking whore. You think you can come into my group and make a mockery of me?”
Jesus, he’s lost it completely. I need to do something fast.
Adam crouched and tried to stay out of the light of Patrick’s wind-up torch. He crept behind Patrick, close enough to grab the man in a chokehold or shove him down to the ground. Costa was still watching the violence from the window, cackling like a maniac.
He is a maniac.
Adam got even lower, moving on his hands and knees, not wanting to be seen. If he didn’t stop Patrick in the next few seconds, he might kill Tasha.
It’s now or never.
Adam made his move, springing up on half-dead knees and throwing out a fist, but instead of going for Patrick, he leapt towards the broken window. His punch landed clean and square on Costa’s jaw, knocking him loopy. He hadn’t seen the attack coming or prepared for it in any way.
Got you, you fucker!
Adam threw his entire weight on top of Costa’s rifle, trapping it against the window ledge. Costa’s grip on it had loosened, but it was attached to him via a neck strap.
Damn it, no! I need to get this rifle away from him.
He was desperate, and knowing that once Costa recovered he would probably knock Adam out cold and shoot him, he did what he always did in a panic – whatever he could think of.
He gouged at Costa’s eyes with his thumbs.
Costa screamed and tried to retreat, but he was caught in the strap of his rifle. Adam continued pushing with his thumbs, trying to blind the young man who had earlier been just another drunk in the group with a sad story.
With no other way to keep his eyesight, Costa had no choice but to drop to the floor and roll away. His head slipped free of the strap, allowing Adam to yank the rifle inside the hall. Having never held a firearm before, he pointed it awkwardly out of the window and pulled the trigger.
Thunder boomed.
Adam staggered backwards, trying to stay on his feet but losing his balance and falling onto his backside. He kept hold of the rifle, but the stock hit him in the mouth, cracking against his upper teeth. He felt something come loose and spat a small amount of grit onto the floor. His shoulder felt like he had just been playfully punched by Mike Tyson.
But I still have the rifle.
And Costa is gone.
The broken window was empty. Perhaps Adam had managed to shoot Costa, or just scared him into running.
Please let this finally be over.
Patrick had stopped beating on Tasha, jolted by the loud gunshot that was still echoing o
ff the rafters. He looked around now in confusion, then back down at Tasha, who was out cold on the floor. Finally, his eyes settled on Adam. “My God, are you all right?”
“I think I broke my goddamn shoulder. Help me up.”
Patrick hurried over and pulled Adam to his feet. “You did it! You finally put a stop to—”
Adam lifted the rifle and smashed the stock into the side of Patrick’s head, knocking him cold. Then he stood over the fallen counsellor, a sneer across his lips. “Some people never change, sober or not.”
“He’s going to feel that in the morning,” said John quietly.
Adam reached down to Tasha and tried to stir her. “Hey, are you okay? It’s over.”
For now, at least.
Every one of them was a broken mess. Patrick had dragged himself over to the wall and now clutched his head in silence. John lay in the middle of the hall, unable to get up. Tasha was slumped over a chair, trying to recuperate from her vicious assault. Finally, Adam was in the kitchenette, searching for the first aid kit Costa had mentioned. He found it on top of the fridge, a small green box packed with bandages, plasters, and little else.
I still can’t believe I have not one but two gunshot wounds.
The first gunshot had nicked the back of his calf, slicing a V-shaped divot in his muscle. The second had embedded in the back of his arm, causing him agony every time he moved. The only way to cope was to let his arm dangle like a hunk of meat.
I have to be dying. I’m bleeding all over.
If not for adrenaline, I think I would be unconscious.
Katy had a brother she never even knew about. James had an uncle.
Costa is my family.
Adam pulled some bandages from the first aid kit in the kitchenette and began wrapping his various wounds. By the time he was done, it looked like he was transitioning into becoming a mummy. He took the remaining bandages out to use on the others, as well as some tape and gauze.
Back in the hall, John was miraculously still awake. “Seems our pasts never stop haunting us,” he mumbled.
Adam huffed. “I think mine will follow me to the ends of the Earth. I deserve it.”
12 Steps Page 11