by Mark Ayre
Then, from nothing, the crunch of a boot in hard sand. Something else, was that a whisper? Then another boot.
Once she'd identified the boots in the sand, Abbie heard them consistently as Blondie and Baldie crept towards the cave entrance. It was still difficult to judge how far away they were and therefore judge when she would need to strike. She hoped they would do something else to reveal their location before they spun into the cave.
The footsteps stopped. Over the wind, Abbie heard a rustling and knew hands were going into jackets. The plan was not to assault Abbie and Tony with bare fists alone. Baseball bats would not fit in their coats. The men were probably withdrawing knives. Knuckledusters or guns were also possible, though the latter was the least likely.
Be ready for anything. Always.
A final whisper. A command.
If Abbie and Tony had sold their little act, Baldie and Blondie would believe the duo were towards the back of the cave, hands all over each other, possibly partially undressed. If so, they would risk a peek into the crevice before charging in, hoping to pinpoint their targets' exact locations before striking. Tense but ready, Abbie twisted a little, waiting for a head to appear. If she had to guess which, she'd go with Blondie. Baldie seemed to be in charge and, Abbie reckoned, the kind to lead from the back.
Five long, tense seconds passed, during which time Abbie tried to ignore the creeping fear that Tony would grow too agitated and would rush forward from the back of the cave to join her.
Tony didn't.
At the end of the five seconds, Blondie's head appeared.
Abbie didn't hesitate. Her first swung like lightning, smashed his mouth, shook his jaw, sent him reeling.
Before he could go too far, Abbie leapt forward, grabbed the back of his head, and smashed his face into the rock.
A couple of teeth flew loose as blood exploded from his nose. Something dropped to the floor.
Releasing Blondie's head, Abbie raised a foot and smashed a boot into his chest, sending him tumbling into the sand.
Having witnessed blood explode from his colleague's face, shock had taken Baldie. Shaking it off, he dived forward, appearing in the mouth of the cave with his knife raised.
By the time he appeared, Abbie was already dropping, having thrown herself to the ground.
The move surprised Baldie. For a second, he didn't get it. Then he looked to his foot and saw the glint of Blondie's lost blade.
His eyes widened. He moved his foot, hoping to trap the blade and kick it away.
Too late. Abbie's foot was on the knife a second after Baldie noticed it, dragging the weapon towards her outstretched hand.
Baldie had to act. His best shot at victory was diving to the ground, putting himself on top of Abbie and aiming to rip her torso to shreds with his blade. Too afraid Abbie would lift her knife and skewer him as he dropped, he instead sent in a vicious kick.
Abbie could have scampered backwards and avoided the worst of the blow, but only if she sacrificed her chance to get Blondie's blade, while to roll away from the strike was to risk impaling herself.
She grabbed the knife hilt.
Took the kick.
Baldie's foot, clad in a steel-toed boot, smashed Abbie's behind. With a scream, she tried to rise, to escape the range of his feet.
He came again. Abbie swung the knife left and right, trying to deter him with eight inches of steel. But he was bright. Rather than try to kick and risk Abbie slicing his ankle, he aimed to stamp, using the base of his boot as a shield when he brought it down.
Still not standing, Abbie was retreating. Baldie missed once, missed again. Abbie sliced his outer ankle, drawing blood, and he found her stomach with a stomp. Pain shot through her middle, and instinct forced her to fold over. The move almost led to her impaling her own leg.
She was on her side now in a half foetal position. Baldie's next stamp found her hip, the one after that her shoulder.
Sensing a chance, Baldie sent a steel toe at Abbie's stomach. To block the foot, Abbie had to catch the boot with both hands.
She slowed the attack. Still felt steel hit her stomach and another shot of agony through her middle. By now, her behind was throbbing with constant waves of pain.
To catch the boot, Abbie had been forced to drop the knife. As soon as Baldie felt the connection with Abbie's stomach, he yanked his boot from her hands and trapped the blade, whipping it away and towards the mouth of the cave.
He smiled.
"Oh, don't," said Abbie. "You look hideous."
He kicked again. Abbie blocked again. Again, he still got her stomach before yanking away his foot.
He kicked again. Abbie went to block. This time he pulled out, turned the kick into a stamp, and used it to force her onto her back. To keep her pinned, Baldie put one foot on her hip and lifted the other from the ground.
He raised his knife.
His foot was on her left hip. Abbie lifted from the right and slammed a palm into Baldie's inner thigh, compromising his balance and forcing him to remove his leg.
Freed, Abbie tried to sit. Baldie dropped knee first onto her chest, sending her crashing back to the hard floor. His knee pinned her, his bodyweight crushed her.
"Uh oh," he said.
"What, didn't wet yourself, did you?" asked Abbie. It would have been funnier if his knee on her chest hadn't ruined the strength of the delivery. His eyes gleamed.
"Stop."
It was Tony, standing back, hand out like a policeman halting traffic. "Leave her alone."
Simply charging Baldie might have been the smarter play. Tony could have aimed to knock Abbie’s assailant over or to rush past and snatch the knife. Abbie didn't point this out, lest it ruin Tony's mood when he thought he was helping.
Baldie also knew Tony's course of action was sub-optimal. Combined with his trembling voice and the context suggesting Abbie had attempted to keep him away from the fight, Baldie decided Abbie was still the threat. He kept his eyes on her, even as he spoke.
"Back off, mate, I'll deal with you next."
"No," said Tony. But there was no power to the word, and he made no move to help. Abbie's hands were by her side. Baldie had the knife pointed her way, and his knee on her chest sapped her strength. She'd need her hands for when he struck. She wanted the power to throw him off.
She hoped Tony would still charge Baldie but wasn’t counting on it.
A pained groan entered the cave ahead of a stumbling man. Abbie turned to see Blondie pick up his knife. Though he still looked awful, his face bloody, his mouth missing a couple of teeth, the steel seemed to lend him strength.
"Cut up the boyfriend," said Baldie.
"He's not my boyfriend," said Abbie.
Blondie released another pained moan but stumbled towards Tony.
"Name," Abbie said.
Tony was staring at Blondie, who was getting closer and closer, but said nothing.
With his free hand, Baldie stroked Abbie's hair.
"You're beautiful," he said. "But not for much longer."
Tony still wasn't speaking. He had backed up to the rear wall of the cave. His foot hit the coffee cup and the lid spilt off. He went down beside it, pulling his knees towards his chest and throwing his arms over his head, which he turned towards the floor.
"Damn it," said Abbie, her voice half choked by Baldie's knee. "Anthony Rayner. Anthony Mitchell.”
"What?"
"Anthony Rayner nee Mitchell.” This wasn't quite right. She guessed Baldie would catch her drift.
Blondie had passed them and now stood above Tony. Tony had removed his hand from his head and suddenly seemed distracted. He reached for the ground as Baldie registered what Abbie was saying and looked across the cave.
"Shit," he said. "Just keep him there, don't hurt him."
Blondie turned back towards Baldie, frustrated, bordering on angered. Ignoring his colleague, Baldie turned to Abbie and held the knife in front of his chest.
"No get out of jail f
ree card for you," he said. "Now, where should we start? Think I'll cut out an eye."
He raised the knife, the tip hovering over Abbie's right eye. Though afraid, she would force herself to wait for the last second. When his arms swung, he would be easier to toss from her chest.
Assuming she caught his wrists in time.
At first, Blondie watched Abbie and Baldie with excitement. Hearing something on his other side, he turned in time to see Tony put a bullet between his eyes.
In the small space, the shot was deafening. Baldie's eyes flicked to the gun. His attention stolen; Abbie grabbed his knife hand in both of hers and swung it in an arc, ramming the blade into his stomach.
Now Baldie's eyes returned to Abbie, who bucked her hips and twisted while keeping hold of his knife hand, throwing him to his back and swinging astride his waist in the same move.
Abbie could feel Baldie trying to remove the blade, but his strength was fast deserting him. His other hand rose, grabbed at Abbie's shoulder, then flopped back to the cave floor.
The reverberation of the gunshot seemed still to be bouncing around the cave. There was no one nearby. The cavern might have contained the sound. Even if someone had heard, they might have thought it was a car backfiring or dismissed it altogether.
Abbie didn't believe in taking chances. That meant not sticking around a second longer than necessary.
If she kept the blade in Baldie's stomach, he would eventually die. Not quickly enough. She released his hand, and he tried to pull the knife free but couldn't.
After prising Baldie's hand away, Abbie yanked the knife free, looked at Tony. The gun hung limply in his hand. He had been staring at Blondie but was now focused on Abbie. His eyes were wide, his face white. Like a boa constrictor, the shock was crushing him.
"Close your eyes," she said.
He continued to stare; didn't speak. He didn't have it in him.
"Tony, close your eyes. Do it now."
For a few more seconds, nothing. Then, slowly, Tony nodded. His trembling hand barely keeping hold of the gun, he did as told. Closed his eyes on the sick and sorry scene.
Abbie looked at the knife, the shining steel now dripping with blood. She met the eye of Baldie, who was staring at her, though he struggled to keep focus. Opening her mouth, Abbie prepared to say something witty, something to do with how she couldn't use the blade to make him hideous because he was born that way. Yeah, that would be film-worthy.
But Tony hadn't covered his ears and was already freaked out. Abbie cast him a quick glance to ensure he wasn't peaking, then carved open Baldie's throat and watched him bleed to death.
It did not take long.
Seventeen
The moment Baldie was dead, Abbie stood and removed her jacket, dumping it on the floor.
"You can open your eyes now," she told Tony while placing the blade with which she had killed Baldie atop her jacket. "It's going to be okay."
The situation might be. Tony was going to struggle. That much was plain to see.
Crossing the cave, Abbie removed her phone from her pocket, dialling the number she had years ago memorised while extracting the second knife from Blondie's dead grasp. As the call was answered, she dumped the second knife with the first on her jacket.
"Hello.”
"It's Abbie. I got a mess that needs cleaning up. You have someone nearby?"
"Of course. What's the situation?"
Crouching in front of Tony, Abbie prised the gun from his loose clasp and dumped it with the knives before folding her discarded jackets over the weapons.
"Two bodies," she said. "Two knives. One gun. I guess you're tracking me?"
"Always. Bit cold for a walk on the beach, isn't it?"
"There's a split in the rocks, a tiny cave," said Abbie, ignoring Ben's joke. "We'll leave everything here."
"Fine. How did the bodies become bodies?"
"Slit throat and bullet between the eyes. Single gunshot. We're pretty secluded here, but I can't guarantee no one heard."
"Let me worry about that. Are you alone?"
Abbie glanced at Tony, considered lying. Never a good idea where the seemingly omniscient Ben was concerned.
"No. There's one other."
"Will they be a problem?"
"No."
Silence. Ben considering, letting his mind churn through the options. Reiterating her point would seem desperate and make her look like a liar, so Abbie kept quiet.
"You sure?" said Ben.
"Yes."
"I'm trusting you."
"As well you should. Is there anything else?"
More silence as Ben calculated the next few steps.
"I'll have a team there exactly six minutes after we disconnect," said Ben. "You must not be there when they arrive. Everything else is standard procedure. Need I go through it?"
“Think I've got it by now."
"Fine. Must I give you any stern warnings about this—“
"No," Abbie cut in. "You must trust I know what I'm doing."
"And I do, Abagail. Now get moving. Your six minutes start…"
Ben hung up. Abbie turned at once to Tony, looked him over, then began to undress.
While Abbie had been on the phone, Tony had seemed to zone out. When she took off her hoody and then her top, revealing a plain bra and plenty of flesh, he stared. When she unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs, he began to shake his head.
"No, no. Not here. We can't here. You cannot be serious."
"Don't be stupid," she said, kicking off her boots and stepping out of her jeans. "Take off your jacket, put it on top of mine."
She gestured to where she was chucking her jeans, shirt and hoody. His words made her think. How depressing; she reckoned she had spent more time undressing to dispose of evidence after a killing than before jumping into bed with a guy. How many people could say that?
It was a cold afternoon. The wind whipped into the cave and seemed to settle, making the small space feel like a walk-in fridge. Even if Abbie didn't have a hard deadline, now only four minutes away, she would have no desire to stay undressed within the confines of this rock.
Pulling her boots from the wall, away from Baldie, she opened her drawstring bag and removed her change of clothes. A second pair of jeans, another tee, and a thin jumper. This one not hooded and no good at keeping out the cold.
Whatever. It would have to do.
Tony still hadn't moved.
"Oi, jacket off. Now."
Tony looked at her again, watched as she pulled up and buttoned the new pair of jeans. Seemingly satisfied she didn't want to make love to him on the bodies of their dead victims, he pulled himself to his feet and slowly removed his jacket, which he held in a limp hand, as he had the gun.
Abbie had pulled her tee over her head and had the jumper in her hands.
"Here," she said, nudging her discarded clothes pile with a toe. As Abbie pulled the jumper on over her head, she heard Tony approach and drop the jacket. Jumper on, she saw him shivering in front of her.
"Spin for me," she said.
He gave her another gormless look, and she sighed. Rather than asking again, she circled.
"You're fine."
He looked confused. That was okay. He didn't need to know Abbie was looking for visible evidence of their murderous acts. He probably wouldn't have noticed the blood droplets on his jacket. Abbie had. Even the tiny specs were enough to make ditching that item of clothing worthwhile. The rest of his outfit appeared clean.
Abbie grabbed her boots, gave them a quick examination. They looked fine. Good; she shoved them on. Checked her phone. They had about fifty seconds.
"Come on," she said, taking Tony's hand. "Time to go."
Thankfully, Tony offered no resistance as Abbie led him to the cave mouth. In the past, she had dealt with first-time murderers who flopped over their victim's body and howled, refusing to be moved. There would have been hell to pay if that had happened here after Abbie had told Ben he ha
d no need to worry. That he should trust her.
From the cave's mouth, Abbie looked east. There were still a few people enjoying a cold day out. None were coming Abbie's way. Perfect. To the west, there was nothing but empty sand, rocks, two sets of stone steps leading up from the beach, and Tony's house, looking out over the sea.
She could hear neither sirens nor voices. She tugged on Tony's hand.
"Let's go."
Abbie made her way along the rock wall, Tony following like a lobotomised man with no will or mind of his own.
A hundred metres from Tony's home, they reached the final set of stone steps and made their way up to the pavement.
A car sped past. Tony whimpered. Giving his hand another squeeze, Abbie led the damaged man home.
There were no cars in the driveway. Given who Tony's family were, they were unlikely to call the police even if the lot of them were inside playing board games and immediately gathered what Tony and Abbie had done. Still, Abbie didn't fancy a confrontation with Angel or Ariana. Alice would be okay, but Abbie hoped they would find the house empty.
They were in luck. Upon crossing the threshold and closing the door, Abbie asked Tony to call out. When he wouldn't, Abbie shouted upstairs and into the kitchen. In the thirty seconds that followed, they heard not a whisper.
"Bin bags," she said to Tony. "Where are they?"
After some prompting, Tony showed Abbie to the cupboard beneath the kitchen sink. As Abbie removed a single bag from the roll, Tony remained a couple of metres away, clutching his right arm in his left hand and staring at the wall. Abbie felt a rush of pity. Despite being born to a criminal mother and having a ruthless older sister, Tony grew up to be an ordinary, kind-hearted guy. Seeing him now, it was astounding he had ever thought he could kill Louis in cold blood, even if he genuinely believed the crook had murdered his sister.
Putting the bag over her shoulder, Abbie went to Tony, took his hand, squeezed again.
"Show me your room."
There were seven bedrooms upstairs: two for guests, the master for Alice, then one each for Alex, Tony, Ariana, and the recently deceased Aurora. Angel and Adam both had houses nearby, though Adam hadn’t needed his for almost a decade.