The Bone Architect

by Ian Woodhead

  She arched her back, forcing him deeper into her, as excruciating agony finally detonated, plunging every pain receptor into a pit of fire. Her eyes bulged in her sockets, the anguish crashing through her in wave after wave as he twisted, pulled, and brought out his bloodied fist, holding up her squashed intestine, the warm rope sliding over her breasts.

  Barbra found the numbness wanting to reach through this receding curtain of white pain. She shut her eyes, forcing out the picture of him and allowed the soft embrace of death to finally claim her. Somewhere, a thousand miles distant, she made out the sound of a car engine and of her murderer releasing a soft laugh.

  ***

  She so wanted to knock that smug grin off his dozy face. Mavis Longheart give Nigel Bard a single icy glare before pressing her nose against the side window. Only the headlights gave Mavis any clue as to what lay beyond this supposedly broken down car. The yellow light showed her more tarmac with low growing weeds changing colour to black and shadow the further she moved from the beam.

  “Well?”

  Her new boyfriend’s eyes told volumes. She’d had way too many male friends play the old broken down trick on her to know that this moron hadn’t expected the car to just stop.

  “Don’t give me that look, love. I don’t know what the bloody hell is up with it.” His hand reached for the door handle. “Let me see if I can sort something out.”

  Nigel left her alone, stewing in her own juices, her temper struggling to rise from where she locked it two hours ago. Back in Radfield her best mate, Trixie, would be laughing her tits off if the bitch could see her now. Of course she would; after all, it was Mavis who stole the male dish right out of her arms when Trixie rushed off to the toilet in the Seven Cocktails nightclub.

  Oh, back then her mood had been as sweet as a jar of honey. Back then she hadn’t realised that this lump of manly muscle was such a fucking moron. “What’s wrong with it?” she asked winding down the window.

  “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be looking at,” Nigel admitted, slamming the car bonnet. “As I said earlier, this is our Brian’s motor. It’s never been that great a runner. Thing is, he swore down that he had it fixed.”

  “You said it was your car!” She waited until he climbed back into the driver’s seat before reaching over and pulling him by the lapels towards her face. “Nigel, we’re in the middle of nowhere. Sitting in a shitty car and now I’m beginning to get cold. Pray tell, how do you intend to fix this?”

  His look of bafflement turned into a leer. “I think I can suggest a good way to warm you up, love.” Nigel licked his lips. “And when we’ve finished, maybe the car will start again?”

  Mavis pushed him back, reached for the door handle, and climbed out of the tiny Ford Fiesta. “Are you having a laugh? Nigel, I wanted your bed. If you think you’re having your way in some metal coffin, then you’re so mistaken!” She slammed the door shut and tightened her long coat around her body. God, some good night this was turning out to be.

  She waited until the big lunk had squeezed his body out of the narrow gap before she gave him another withering glare. “Come on, Einstein, I’m still waiting for you to tell me; how you are going to fix this mess?”

  His sullen expression gave her his answer. Had she honestly expected him to do anything else? Mavis might have only known him for just over two hours but already she’d found out his only two talents were football and sex. Neither of those would be of any use in this situation.

  “We’re only a couple of miles from our house, honey. It should only take us about half an hour to get there. I promise.”

  Their journey from town to here told her otherwise. The car’s milometer hadn’t rolled past that many numbers.

  “He held out his hand. “Mavis, I really am sorry about this. Believe me, breaking down in the middle of nowhere wasn’t what I had planned either.”

  For the first time since the car coughed out its last emission, Mavis felt a little of her mood soften. She allowed him to wrap his thick arms around her waist, snuggling into his chest. “I really hate walking, you know.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Who said anything about you walking?”

  Mavis let out a surprised squeal when Nigel picked her off her feet.

  “Wait on, maybe there is another solution.” He pointed to her left. “I can see a light.”

  “Oh god, you’re right, there’s a house over there.” Through the screen of foliage Mavis saw over a dozen yellow lights. “Carry me over there, Nigel. They’re bound to have a phone we can use.” Their lighthouse blazed a trail through the wilderness. Mavis felt her libido returning as this hunk gently carried her over the rough ground. She wondered if they had any spare beds.

  Act Six

  He lost more fabric from his smart black jacket. Joshua examined the pear shaped hole situated just below his breast. It didn’t shock him to see his original clothes beneath, only the condition of his jacket confused him. Vivid colour no longer stood out in the material. It looked like it had been through a thousand washes or left out in a desert sun, the heat and light bleaching it to grey.

  “You know the significance of this, don’t you?”

  His other companion watched him wearily from his position in the far corner of the bar. He too had pieces missing from his suit. Unlike Joshua, his attention centred on the glass on the round metal table standing between them. He’d woken up in this room, occupied by a drinks bar, two tables, a dozen stools, plenty of liquid refreshment and two locked doors. Conner had made sure Joshua knew that he couldn’t escape.

  The glass held in his own hand reflected the bastard’s smug grin. Joshua jumped off the stool and approached Conner; his apparent lack of concern infuriated Joshua. The glass left his hand, shattering against the wooden surface. He dropped down and scooped up the largest shard.

  “Do you wish me to furnish you with a fresh glass?”

  He roared, swept the table aside, and dived on Conner, pressing the piece against the side of the man’s neck. His adam’s apple bobbed up and down. Joshua pushed the shard harder, feeling vindicated when a droplet of bright red blood surrounded the point. “Open that fucking door right now, or I’ll slice off your bastard head and get the keys from your cooling body.”

  “Your beloved still lives, Joshua,” he whispered, turning to face him, seemingly oblivious to the glass held tight against his throat. “She took one of the others. Perhaps she made her first mistake? With her out of the way, your connection with the others is tenuous at best. Now I ask myself if your mind would finally fall through the thin ice if I thrust my head forwards.” He yawned. “I do not doubt your will to carry out your threat, Joshua. Even though you fantasised about climbing into Barbra’s undergarments, your strong bond with Clarice wouldn’t allow you to cross that line.”

  “Shut up!” Joshua squeezed his fingers tight. “Give me that key!”

  “You’re trapped in a maze where walls, time, people, and floors shift to serve her purpose. Without my help you’re only going to end up tied to her pole in the cellar. Once you’re down there, her chosen host will gut you, pull out your bones, and make them into a fucking chair! It’s inevitable. Stay here and live, Joshua. You can always get another whore to fuck.”

  Conner reached out and closed his own hand around Joshua’s fist. “Go on, do it, man. Murder me. Be just like her, become a killer.” Conner growled deep then jerked forward, still holding onto Joshua’s fist.

  The glass shard slid easily into Conner’s neck. His body fell forwards, hot blood gushing from the wound when the glass slipped from Joshua’s hand. He screamed out in horror, falling backward onto the other fragments as the man’s body followed him down, landing over his shoulders and head.

  The man’s blood filled his mouth. He gagged, panicking arms pushing the corpse off him. Joshua scrambled to his feet, staggered to the other side of the room, fell to his knees, and threw up. “I’m so sorry,” he spluttered, wiping the back of his hand acr
oss his mouth. “I didn’t want to make you dead, Conner.” He stood up, facing his crime. Accusing eyes glared at him. “You made me do it; I wasn’t going to hurt you, not really.” The lake of blood spread across the floor, creating glass islands in a sea of scarlet. The spill stopped before the gloss touched the tip of his boots.

  His aching guts had not stopped their protests. He swallowed down what remained, determined to finish what he set out to do the moment Joshua woke and discovered the green eyed man’s intentions.

  He lifted his foot, hesitating, not wishing to defile the man any further by stepping in what just minutes ago was flowing through Conner’s still living body. Joshua jumped to the left, and climbed onto the table, crawling across the surface, until his hands gripped the edge.

  As he leaned towards the man’s pockets, his eyes shifted back to his face. Joshua shrieked and fell back into the blood as Conner winked. “No, no fucking way,” he cried, splashing back to the door. He crashed against its surface, crunching himself into a ball, imagining that corpse crawling through his own blood, holding the shard that Joshua used to murder him. He moaned in soft tones, fearing that Conner’s prophecy that his mind had tilted was coming to fruition.

  “It’s not real. It’s not real, it’s not real.” His mantra gave him the courage to turn his head to witness that the man hadn’t moved, and the shine of life had left Conner’s eyes. The corpse looked as menacing as that table.

  None of that mattered, there was no way he would go near the body. He was doomed to stay where he shivered, his suit continuing to degrade as the killer took more bodies. Joshua roared out in frustration before smacking his head hard against the wood.

  The door clicked, swung silently open, showing him the interior of the hallway, two pairs of wet footprints leaving the outer door heading up the staircase.

  ***

  The warmth, and dry towel wrapped around her shivering body did not compensate for the impulsive urge to flee from this house right now. Mavis couldn’t give a hoot if she was naked under this fluffy green towel, or that the heavens had opened moments after spotting the house. All she wanted right now was to feel safe again, to not expect some calamity to occur at any moment.

  “What the hell are you grinning at?” Nigel, like herself had shed his clothing after finding these towels placed on the huge circular polished oak table that dominated this room. Bookcases reaching up to the ornate ceiling surrounded them, all full of spines written in some strange language; even the alphabet looked alien. She turned back to her stolen date. “Come on, spill it. You haven’t stopped smirking since we undressed.”

  He sat in one of the dining chairs. It surprised Mavis that the frail looking thing didn’t collapse under his weight. She’d never seen chairs look so thin.

  “Am I not allowed to smile now?” He spread his legs and leaned back, placing his thick arms around the back of his head and stretched. Just look at this place, girl. The house is obviously empty, yet it has everything we need to be comfortable. Reminds me of that house made of cake that Hansel and Glenda found. Yeah, just like that.”

  “It was Gretel, you moron, and can you remember what happened to them?”

  Why couldn’t this idiot see the obvious warning signs? No way could this house be empty. The owner was probably having a bath or something. She dare not imagine what they’d do to the pair of them after discovering she and Nigel had broken in and made themselves right at home, apart from blowing off their heads with a shotgun. The folk who lived in these big houses always had shotguns, and dogs. God, Mavis hated dogs almost as much as she hated spiders.

  “Sorry, doll. I was never into fairy stories. The only reason I remember that bit was because of the cake. Didn’t a bunch of bears chase them through some woods? Look, does it really matter? We’re out of the pissing down rain and comfortable.” He chuckled. “As well as naked. It’s obvious what should happen next.”

  “Yeah, we get the hell out of here before the owner comes back and finds us using all of his stuff.”

  Mavis picked her sodden white top from the back of another chair; the heat from the open fire made the cloth warm to touch. It would take more than a few minutes to dry this and her other garments. She couldn’t stay here for another second, never mind another minute. She loosened the towel and let it fall to the carpet.

  “Yeah, baby,” purred Nigel, “come and sit on my knee.” He pulled back his own towel, exposing his rigid manhood. “See anything you like?” He winked, wrapping his fingers around the thick shaft.

  “Cover yourself up for crying out loud.” Mavis turned her back, shrugging on the wet top. She wasn’t going to bother with the panties and bra, figuring the walk home with her skin next to one layer of clothing would be torture enough without the scaffolding making her sore. Christ, if only she could turn back the clock.

  She yelped out as Nigel’s hands found her breasts. She twisted her hips away from his erection. “Get the fuck off me, you idiot. This isn’t the right time.”

  “Enough of the hard to get routine, baby. Of course it’s the right fucking time.” His rough fingers played with her nipples through the wet fabric. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

  Mavis reached down, her fingers grabbing his shaft.

  “Oh yeah.” His breathing quickened. “Wanna suck me? God, that so turns me on.”

  She tightened her grip, ensuring her nails dug into the tender flesh. His hands whipped back, closing around her fingers. Already she felt the organ softening.

  “Get the fuck off it, you manic bitch. Ow, that really does fucking hurt!”

  She turned, her blazing eyes seeing nothing more than a small child encased in a suit of adult flesh. Tears filled his eyes. Mavis sighed; she let him go and stooped to retrieve her dropped shirt. “Be thankful that I didn’t put that in my mouth, my jaw is strong, and my teeth are very sharp.”

  “You’re insane,” he whispered, clutching his crotch and backing away. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why me, for God’s sake.” He gazed up at the ornate ceiling. “Why did I have to be stuck with such a cold hearted bitch?”

  Her own tears blurred Mavis’ eyes. “How dare you call me names!” She forced the top over her chest, the tears flowing even more when she saw the lust in his eyes returning; his gaze had not left her breasts.

  Nigel sank to the floor. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “It’s just that you really are beautiful and I …” he sighed heavily. “Well, I just thought you liked me too. I don’t want to hurt you, Mavis. He looked into her eyes. “I still don’t get why you want to leave this place, but if that’s what you want, then fair enough, we’ll get dressed and go.”

  She wrapped the towel over her top. “Don’t get me wrong, Nigel. I do like you. If I hadn’t thought you were a bit of a cutie do you think I’d have climbed into your car in the first place?”

  Mavis didn’t really think of herself as a complicated woman, not when it came to her notion of how a man ought to treat a lady. She looked back to that darkened corner in the club, feeling her emotions knot up at the sight of that hunky beefcake making her friend laugh and giggle. She should have known better, it had to be a combination of too much vodka and jealousy that caused her to react in such an undignified manner. All she saw approaching that wobbly table was the man of her dreams wining and dining her best mate – and not her.

  Somewhere in that distorted reality she saw Trixie and this hunk, sitting in some lush but quiet restaurant with his warm hands over hers, both deep in intimate conversation, with him more listening than speaking, empathising while she explained about her mum and dad breaking up, about how her older brother once tried to get into bed with her when he was drunk, about how her grades in uni have slipped. About anything at all.

  Her short-sighted grab had landed her with everything her best mate wanted in a man, more hormones than a drugged up stallion, with a cock to match. The best meal deal she would have got from Nigel would have been a portion of fish and chips, with a t
ub of mushy peas on the side, if she’d have let him take her from behind.

  Look, I’m really sorry about all of this, Nigel.” She took a deep breath, collected his soaking clothes and carried them over to his slumped form. “Please, take me back to the road?” She dropped the pile onto his ankles. “Look, it’s still early, Nigel. Why don’t I do you a deal? Walk me back into town and we can find Trixie. I’ll say that I had to get home or some crap like that and you gave me a lift. Whatever we say, she’ll swallow it.” Mavis chuckled, “She does swallow by the way.”

  The man sitting against the bookcase didn’t respond. Her smile fell away. “Nigel, are you okay?” She nudged his foot, jumping back in shock as he slid down, the side of his head smacking against the carpet. “Oh fuck, Nigel!”

  Mavis spun around and ran over to the open door, her towel falling away. She had to get to a phone! There must be one somewhere. “Help!” she yelled, “Oh God, please help!”

  “What the hell has gotten into you, Mavis? Is this just because I don’t know the names in some bullshit fairy story?”

  She looked behind her. Nigel was back on the chair, slouched in the same position, his towel over his legs.

  “What the fuck are you playing at?” She then saw Nigel’s clothes hung over the other chair, in the exact position as he left them. Mavis looked down, seeing her towel wrapped around her naked body. She picked up her own top, running the fabric between her fingers, knowing from the feel that this hadn’t been near her body since she first took it off.

  Mavis stood in front of Nigel and let the towel fall to the ground. “Tell me what you see.”

  The man jumped back, the chair tipping back. “Oh my, so that’s what you look like!” He pulled back his own towel. “Come on, you, let’s play.”

  She shook her head, grabbed her top, and pulled it over her shoulders, not allowing her gaze to drift from his eyes. “I shouldn’t have stolen you from Trixie. You belong to her, not me.” Mavis threw him his clothes, so trying not to let that hallucination to dominate her thoughts. Yet how could she not? It felt real, as real as this right now, but it couldn’t be. Nigel didn’t have enough intellect to lie convincingly. She stepped away from him and grabbed her trousers.