Deep Water

by Mark Ayre

  "Think I overheard you telling my friend your name was Abbie?"

  "Wrong."

  The guy was only stumped a second. He was far more confident than Charlie. The charm was insincere but well-practised.

  "Your name's not Abbie?"

  "No, it is."

  Blink. There was frustration. Here one second, gone the next.

  "But you said 'wrong'?"

  "Ah, yes," said Abbie. "You said 'friend'. But it was Charlie to whom I divulged my name."

  "Charlie is my friend."

  Abbie smirked. "If you say so."

  The frustration again. Abbie's new friend wasn't sure how to take her. Good.

  "Pleased to meet you, Abbie." This was the girl. She offered a hand. "My name's Ellie, and this is Dean."

  Abbie took the hand. After all, manners were important.

  "What about the other two?" she asked. Raising her voice, she said, "What are you guys called?"

  Ellie glanced back. Dean once again fought frustration. They had intended Abbie to believe it was only her and these two idiots. Unfortunately, lumbering feet revealed the second couple's position to anyone paying attention. And Abbie was always paying attention. To everything. They were a little way behind, couple two, close enough to close the gap in a few seconds, should the situation require such action. Four against one meant Abbie needed every advantage she could get.

  "That's Francine and Howard," said Ellie. "Friends of ours."

  "Actual friends or friends like Charlie?"

  Neither Ellie nor Dean answered. The trio kept walking, moving ever closer to the crack in the stone. Abbie could almost feel their nerves rising as they neared the destination.

  "Shy, are they?" asked Abbie. "That why they're hanging back?"

  After clenching his fists, Dean tried a smile. "Abbie—"

  "That's Miss King to you."

  "Okay, Miss King—"

  "Actually, I think I do prefer Abbie."

  "Fine—"

  "Or perhaps Hottie. Or Fittie. Oh, I just don't know. What do you think?"

  Dean took a breath. The kind an adult might take halfway through a debate with a toddler about whether or not it is appropriate to throw paint across the telly. Ellie simply looked stunned. Approaching Abbie, the couple's minds had been whirring. They had imagined multiple ways their impeding of Abbie could go. Neither had imagined this. That was Abbie's intention. They were disoriented. On the back foot. This gave Abbie the advantage should physical action be required.

  "We'll call you what you want," said Ellie. Her teeth weren't quite gritted. She was trying ever so hard to keep them apart. It was commendable. "Why don't you come get to know us?"

  "If you like," said Abbie. This answer they found surprising enough that both Ellie and Dean were temporarily stumped, and Abbie got to go again. "In a minute, though. First, I have to go inside that little cave thing between the rocks."

  Behind Abbie's back, Dean and Ellie shared a glance. Abbie rolled her eyes but let them get on with it. They were perhaps thirty seconds from the crack.

  "Why would you want to go in there?" said Dean.

  "I'm looking for something."

  "What's that?"

  "An answer."

  "To what?"

  "A question."

  As though his frustration was a jagged stone, jutting from the sand, Dean seemed to stumble, to almost trip. He might have lashed out. Abbie could sense he was close. Maybe Ellie did too because her following words came in a jumbled rush. Abbie had to ask for a repeat.

  "What question are you looking to answer?"

  "Oh, simple," said Abbie. "I want to know who's in the cave."

  Dean was going to speak. His words would have been neither friendly nor reasoned. Luckily for him, Ellie had kept her head.

  "I can tell you that," she said. "Two of our friends are in there. They're up to something for which, uh, they needed a little privacy."

  "You mean they're getting hot and heavy?" said Abbie. "And being good friends, you're trying to protect them from peeping Toms. Or Tinas.”

  "Right," said Ellie. She was smiling. She looked relieved.

  "That's pretty good," said Abbie.

  "Pretty good?" The smile disappeared. "I don't know what you mean."

  "The lie," said Abbie. “Nine out of ten for content. You've introduced the perfect deterrent to me entering the cave while keeping the untruth within the realms of believability. You have no idea how many people screw up even that simple step. Your boyfriend here—" she jerked her thumb at Dean "—would no doubt have cried unstable nuclear warhead or invented a race of evil gnomes who bear a grudge against humanity. You might laugh, but I hear that kind of crap all the time."

  Ellie could not have looked further from laughing. Now it was Dean who looked stunned. Abbie half expected him to pinch himself and proclaim he had to be dreaming. That was good.

  "So, content great," Abbie continued. "You fell down on delivery—five out of ten. Expression, tone; it wasn't convincing. Work on those. Deceit is a valuable skill if you can nail it."

  Dean had had enough. Jogging ahead, he turned and placed himself in Abbie's path. Raising his hand, he pressed his palm into her chest, ceasing her progress.

  Sighing, Abbie turned to Ellie. "Your boyfriend's touching me up. Please ask him to remove his hand from my chest and his person from my path."

  Ellie was still next to Abbie. She was pouting.

  "I'm not lying. Our friends are in that cave. Why can't you just leave it alone? You some kind of pervert or what?"

  "I'm not the one practising inappropriate touching," said Abbie. She turned to Dean. "Move your hand. Get out of my way."

  Dean shook his head. Ellie huffed. She hadn't expected it to go like this. Couldn't understand why it was going like this. Abbie got that. Anyone else would have turned away. Probably wouldn't have approached the crack in the first place. They wouldn't have heard the yell. But Abbie was attuned to the sounds of human distress. Years of experience, plus training provided by the company that paid her mortgage, had seen to that.

  "You have five seconds," she said.

  Still, Dean said nothing.

  "Four."

  "Why can't you just piss off?" said Ellie. "What's your problem?"

  "Three."

  The crunching feet of the second couple stopped. They were two metres behind. When Abbie acted, they would react. She would have to be fast.

  "Two."

  It didn't look like they were going to move.

  "One."

  Dean smirked. He wanted her to try something. That, he was going to regret.

  "Zero."

  There was silence. No one moved. Abbie only stared at Dean. Experience with plenty of people like him told her what would happen next.

  He laughed. Shook his head. Lost focus. Big mistakes.

  "Well—" he said.

  Abbie grabbed his wrist with her left hand and, with her right, unleashed a vicious jab to his nose.

  Ellie gasped, stepped back. The second couple reacted as quickly as expected.

  Abbie was faster.

  The moment she hit Dean's nose, Abbie was retracting her hand. She brought it to the wrist she already held. With both hands on Dean's arm, she swung him, twisting her body and using all her force to throw the yelling man into the approaching Francine.

  In a tangle of limbs, they dropped.

  Howard swung a punch. Abbie ducked, came forward, slammed her knee into his groin. Shoved him atop Dean and Frannie. Span to Ellie.

  "Remember," Abbie said. "Content good. Delivery bad. Work on the latter."

  Advice dispensed, Abbie floored Ellie with a perfect right hook and stepped over the collapsing woman, smoothing her hooded top as she went.

  "Right then," she said, focusing again on the opening in the stone. "Trouble, here I come.”

  Two

  The crack in the rocks was not the gateway into hell. The small cave was set to become a kind of hell for one unluck
y entrant.

  A guy stood just inside the cave's mouth. In his hands, a phone. A light blared on the handset's back, pointing into the cave. As Abbie approached the guy's rear, she saw he was filming.

  Beyond the cameraman was enough room for a tall woman and thickset guy to face each other. With their backs pressed to opposite walls, space remained for a slight teenage boy to kneel between them.

  The teen was shaking. Even in the dark, Abbie could tell he ,was fighting not to cry.

  "Ana," he said. His voice trembled. Before he could continue the woman, Ana, shushed him.

  "No more talk, Jacob. I've been clear. You service Gray, or I chop off your little tiddler and feed it to you. It's win-win for me. Either will make a great home movie."

  Abbie saw the glint of the blade in Ana's hand. The thickset guy, Gray, unbuckled his belt and undid his fly. Between meaty hands, he gripped his waistband, awaiting Jacob's decision.

  Now was the time for Abbie to act. As she stood behind Cameraman, the past waylaid her, assaulting her mind.

  Handsome Harry. His hand on her teenage shoulder. Smiling.

  "I wasn't going to drink."

  "Come on, Abbs. Just one. Do it for me?"

  Rage churned in her stomach and rushed up her throat like bile. She choked on it. It seemed to flood her mind and cloud all judgement. Without thought, she acted.

  Jacob was shifting. Twisting on his knees, he faced Gray's crotch. No longer could he refrain from crying.

  As a grinning Gray began to lower his jeans and boxers, Abbie took hold of Cameraman's head, twisted it to one side, and smashed him face-first into the rock.

  A torrent of blood.

  Cameraman collapsed. As the still recording phone bounced onto the sand, Gray and Ana spun to face Abbie. As he turned, Gray's hip floored Jacob.

  "What the fuck?" said Ana.

  Gray was pulling up his boxers and jeans, hurriedly zipping his fly.

  Driven by volcanic, apoplectic fury, Abbie burst into the cave.

  Gray's hands were on his belt. He released the buckle, leaving it undone.

  Abbie arrived. She kicked rock-solid abs and smashed a fist into his thick skull.

  Ana came with the knife. Gray swung a punch.

  Amateurs. Neither had received combat training. Gray's bulk and the strength he could put behind his fist had always been enough to stop any opponent. But his moves were clumsy and slow. With his eyes, he signposted every shot.

  Dodging the oaf easily, Abbie ducked and planted an elbow in Ana's stomach, collapsing her at the waist before shoving her to the ground.

  This done, Abbie ducked beneath another pathetic swing from Gray. The move sent him off balance. Abbie watched him teeter and came in hard. Smashing his nose with an elbow, his gut with a knee. Getting a foot behind his leg, she toppled him like an ancient, crumbling statue.

  He landed on his back. Abbie was above him.

  "What did you want?" she asked. "Oh yeah, servicing."

  As Gray opened his mouth, Abbie stamped a boot between his legs.

  Took a breath.

  Stamped again.

  The thug's eyes bulged. He gasped. Grabbed his crotch. Rolled over with a whimper.

  Ana was rising. Snatching the knife.

  Abbie closed her left hand around the blade-holding fist. With her right, she grabbed Ana's throat and shoved the monster against the rough stone wall.

  Abbie began to squeeze.

  More memories. They surrounded Abbie like mosquitos. She couldn't swat them. Ana occupied both her hands.

  "There see, that wasn't so bad—just one drink. Now, let's see if we can't loosen you up a bit. Have you met the guys?"

  Abbie closed her eyes. Shook her head. Could she feel Harry's breath on her neck? No, impossible. But she saw him lead her to his group of grinning pals. Within minutes she had felt funny. Wrong. Soon after, Harry led her upstairs, lay her in his bed, told her not to worry. Some of his friends had entered. After that, it became a blur.

  "Rapist," Abbie said to Ana, and new waves of fury washed over her.

  Ana choked, spluttered. This only made Abbie squeeze harder. Ana's face began to change colour. Memories continued to race through Abbie's mind.

  Ben, the representative of the company that paid Abbie to follow her prophetic dreams, to save lives. He'd trained her to fight. Had given her much advice.

  What did he say when he caught her tearing herself apart over the murders she was committing?

  When people think of monsters, they see emotionless sociopaths. Such people are rare. Those who feel no emotion rarely need to kill. Passion, hatred, fear, guilt: these drive murderers and create serial killers. As long as you remove emotion from your decisions to end lives, you will never become a monster. Kill only to save the lives of others or in self-defence, and you will never lose your humanity.

  Something cracked. It took a second to realise the sound had originated from beneath Abbie's left fist.

  Abbie's fingers unclenched, pulled away. The knife clattered to the floor. Ana's hand was misshapen. Two of the fingers crossed unnaturally.

  Ana's eyes closed.

  Behind Abbie, Jacob took deep breaths. Cameraman was still. Gray was groaning.

  The teen was no longer in danger. If Abbie killed Ana, it would not be to save a life or in self-defence, but because she wanted to. A decision driven only by emotion.

  Abbie saw Harry, laying her on the bed.

  Ben, comforting her.

  Finally, Bobby, smiling.

  With a raw, desperate moan of internal pain, Abbie released Ana's throat. Watched the bitch slump to the ground. Maybe alive, maybe dead.

  Staggering back, Abbie almost tripped over Jacob. From the cave entrance, someone said, "Ana."

  Later this morning, Bobby would text her. He always did. For the last three weeks, that first text of the day had sent a thrill across her body.

  This morning she would have to cancel their date and tell him she had been a fool. Normal pursuits of happiness were for normal people. Not for the likes of her.

  "What did you do?" It was the same person who had spoken Ana's name. Ellie.

  Abbie bent down, collected the knife. When she rose, she kept her head bowed.

  "I would step out the cave and away from the entrance if I were you," she said. "To get out of here, I'll have to look up. If I see your face, I'll know immediately if you were aware of what was happening here. If I think you were, I don't know what this hand, holding this knife, will do. My suggestion is none of us wants to find out."

  Keeping her head low, Abbie turned to Jacob. He was, on his knees, staring at the cave's exit.

  "Come on," said Abbie. "Get up."

  It was not only Ellie standing in the way of Abbie's exit. Another woman spoke. This had to be Francine.

  "Did you kill Ana?"

  Jacob was rising. Abbie offered her hand. Looking confused, dazed, he took it.

  "Come on," she said to the boy. To Francine, she said, "I've no idea if she's alive or dead. Step back from the cave entrance. Once I'm gone, you can check for yourself."

  Abbie thought Ana was alive. The air supply hadn't been cut off long enough to kill the monster, though she might have to visit hospital. Currently, Abbie still half hoped Ana would die. Later, if death was the outcome, hopeless self-loathing would no doubt become Abbie's companion.

  "Whatever happens to Ana," said Francine. "You're dead. Count on it."

  To this, Abbie said nothing. Jacob was up, at her side. Those in her way waited. Abbie refused to look at them. She knew their minds were whirring. They were afraid to attack, having seen what Abbie could do. But they feared having a coward's retreat on their record also. Somehow, they needed a get out of jail free card.

  Abbie wouldn't provide one. If she had to deal with them, she would.

  "We should leave." It was Ellie who spoke. Abbie waited for the excuse to land. "Ana would want to deal with this herself. If not Ana, her family. You know that."
/>
  That was what they needed. Ellie's delivery was improving. It was a mark of Abbie's black mood that she didn't comment.

  "Good point," said Francine. "You better watch your back, bitch. Not that it will help."

  There was low chuckling from the cave's mouth. Then Ellie, Francine and whoever was with them retreated, stepping out of the cave and into the hard sand, moving from harm's way.

  At least temporarily.

  Once they were gone, Abbie looked up, out the cave, at the dark sky. Looking to her side, she met Jacob's eye. She took his arm in her hand and pointed towards the cave exit.

  "We better go," she said. "Before I kill someone."

  She glanced back at Ana. Then to where Ellie and Francine and whoever had exited the cave.

  "Before I kill everyone."

  Three

  They made their way up the beach—Abbie’s hand on Jacob’s arm. Images flashed through her mind—blurred footage. Harry’s hands were on her teenage skin. Someone else was dragging off her clothes. They took it in turns. By morning, Abbie would hate herself. No, despise herself.

  “You’re okay now,” she was muttering, dragging Jacob along. Shoving away the memories. “You’re okay.”

  Was she talking to him or herself? She couldn’t tell. Bobby’s last message rolled across her mind.

  Looking forward to it. Good night. x

  Soon she would break his heart. Hers as well. What remained of it.

  The trio of beer can hurling morons had departed the beach while Abbie dealt with Ana and crew. Both couples and one of the passed out partiers had also disappeared. Two unconscious drunks and a nervous, pacing Charlie remained. The pacing stopped when Abbie arrived. Releasing Jacob, she punched Charlie in the face, sending him sprawling into the sand.

  “You tried to hold me up,” she said. “Did you know what was going to happen? Did you know what that bitch wanted to do?”

  On the floor, his head twisting this way and that, Charlie glanced to Jacob, to Abbie, then looked away from both. He couldn’t meet either person’s eye. Too guilty. His cowardice only incited Abbie to further rage.

  “Pathetic coward,” she said. Bending, she grabbed Charlie’s shirt. Hauled him up.