by Jacob Rayne
Alfred tried not to look scared, even though he was shitting himself.
‘You ’arrassin’ my girl?’ the bouncer grunted.
‘No. Just having a drink and taking a look at the talent.’
‘He was eyeing me up,’ Kelly said. ‘Couldn’t take his eyes off my tits.’
‘Come on,’ Alfred said. ‘She’s a good-looking girl. I couldn’t help but look.’
‘Right, get your fat arse out of my pub now,’ the bouncer said. ‘Or you and me are gonna be fightin’.’
Shit, Alfred thought.
Loathe to draw more attention to himself, he decided to leave. The fact that he’d avoid a kicking was a good incentive too. As he walked out, the bouncer gave him a dig in the belly for his cheek.
‘Nice one, Deano,’ the super-fake-tanned girl laughed.
‘I see you in here again, I’ll cripple you,’ Dean said.
Kelly kissed Dean then turned and spat at Alfred. ‘You hear that, you freak?’ she scowled.
Alfred laughed despite the pain in his belly.
Dean, Kelly and friends were a little freaked out. No one laughed off one of Dean’s punches.
They went back inside, leaving Alfred in the gutter, eager to continue the night’s revelries.
‘That’s the last we’ll see of him,’ Kelly laughed.
But it wouldn’t be.
Chapter 79
Luke counted four decaying rodent corpses before he looked away in disgust. The small bodies were laid in an arc on the floor. Some of the bodies had bite marks in their flesh. Others had been mashed to a pulp, presumably by the blood-covered half of a brick that lay a few feet in from the array of dead vermin.
Luke suspected what he was going to see when he moved the torch further up the basement, but it still didn’t lessen the shock when his suspicions were confirmed as reality.
The corpse was sat hugging its knees, its hands were chained to a large metal ring on the wall. He gasped when he saw it, scaring a rat away from the ear on which it was feasting.
Time had not been kind to the chained body. Its flesh was discoloured and sagging away from the bones like wet wallpaper.
Feeling the contents of his stomach starting to rise, he closed his eyes. Swallowed hard.
When he opened his eyes, he forced himself to look at the body. It did little to reassure him when he saw that it was that of a girl with long blonde hair.
He looked at the tattered clothes and realised that it was the same outfit Norma had said that Bryony had been wearing the last time she’d been seen.
Tears started to drown his vision. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. Forced himself to concentrate on the body.
He knelt next to it, in his panic not caring that his knee crunched into the mangled remains of one of the rats.
He shone the flashlight on the face, hoping and praying that it wasn’t Bryony. The features were unidentifiable, thanks to putrefaction and the feasting rodents.
The flashlight hit something shiny, causing the light to wink at him. He moved closer, squidging his knee further into the rat’s corpse.
He recognised the heart-shaped necklace that hung from the neck of the dead girl. Luke had bought it for Bryony as a present last Christmas, but had never plucked up the nerve to give it to her. His heart slamming, he reached for the necklace. The silver locket felt cold to the touch.
Tears again filled his eyes. He blinked them back. Pulled the necklace open. There, inside, was the message that Luke had paid to have inscribed: ‘My heart belongs to you, my love. Forever. Luke XXX’
Chapter 80
There was a sliver of doubt in his mind that the body was Bryony but still he let out a scream that echoed around the dark basement. Tears flooded down his face, making tiny sounds as they hit the floor.
The love of his life was dead. Only God knew what horrendous acts she’d endured.
Then it sunk in why the dead rats were there; she’d been eating them to stay alive. Showing such courage in the face of utter hopelessness.
Somehow that was worse than the fact of her death. She must have been waiting for me to save her, he thought.
He fell to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, cradling her corpse. Her flesh was cold and hard and pocked with tiny teeth marks from where the rats had been at her.
No way was he going to let her be eaten by vermin!
He kissed her lifeless face.
As he sobbed, he heard a shuffling sound behind him.
He spun, startled by the sudden noise. A heavy piece of wood smashed into the side of his head. Stars flew across his vision and his legs wobbled.
The wood hit him again, accompanied by an animalistic, but unmistakably female, cry of rage.
The wood slammed his head a third time. The haze of tears still blurred his vision, but he could see a pale, dirt-smeared face framed with lank blonde hair.
The wood swung for his head again. He was still too stunned to react but this time the wood stopped an inch from his jaw.
‘Holy shit, Luke, what are you doing here?’
Luke stood, dumb-founded.
‘Luke, it’s me, Bryony. How did you get out of the hospital?’
Luke’s mouth moved but the words wouldn’t come. He couldn’t believe she was still alive. He sobbed, tears of relief.
‘I’m here,’ she said. ‘Thank God you came. He’s had me here for a few days now.’ She burst into tears, the salty fluid cutting paths in the dirt on her face. He held her and they both sobbed for a moment, until Bryony came to her senses and said, ‘We’d best get out of here, before he comes back.’
They snuck out of the house the way that Luke had come in, taking the time to replace the drawers over the trapdoor so that the clown wasn’t immediately alerted to her escape.
They paused by the side of the house, hearing footsteps on the gravel outside the gates. The sound soon passed.
They both let out a sigh of relief as they fled the house, heading home as fast as their aching limbs would carry them.
Part Two – Hunter
Becoming: to suit or give a pleasing effect or attractive appearance, as to a person or thing
Chapter 81
Once home, Bryony collapsed as the events of the last few days hit her like a speeding juggernaut. Luke cradled her, stroking her hair.
‘I kept praying that someone would come,’ she sobbed.
‘And someone did,’ he said, kissing her forehead.
‘It had to be you too. It’s fate.’
‘Your mam told me you’d gone missing. She helped me to break out.’
Bryony nodded.
‘What did he do to you?’
The question made her break down again. Incapable of speaking, she let him hold her as she cried.
When Bryony finally stopped crying, Luke stared at her bruised, dirty face.
‘What are we going to do about this? Luke asked. ‘Do you want me to call the police?’
‘No. They’re fucking useless. Look how they’ve let the Marshton Eight off time and time again.’
Luke said nothing. He knew what he wanted Bryony to say next, but he didn’t want to be the first to bring it up.
‘You are gonna kill him, right?’ she asked.
‘I only wish I could kill him twice.’
‘You’ve got to make him suffer.’
‘Oh, I fucking will.’
‘And those pricks who attacked you too. It was one of them who chased us to the Murder House.’
Luke snorted at the thought of the gang. ‘Every last one of them,’ he said. ‘I promise they’re all going to fucking suffer.’
She nodded, a final tear cutting a path through the grime and dried blood on her face. ‘You’d best get on with it,’ she said. ‘Before they realise you’ve gotten out.’
‘I don’t want to leave you on your own after what’s happened.’
‘Please, I need to be alone for a while. I need to try and come to terms with all of this.’
<
br /> ‘I really don’t think—’
‘—LUKE!’
‘Are you absolutely sure?’
‘Yes, I am. I love you for wanting to stay with me and I’m grateful for you rescuing me, but I need to get my head straight. And I need a fucking drink.’
Luke nodded. He pulled her into him and kissed her forehead.
‘Now get out there and kill someone already,’ she laughed.
He took in her face a final time. His mournful expression made it look as though his heart was broken. He sniffed and wiped his eyes then left the room. ‘I’ll see you later,’ he called over his shoulder.
‘I love you, Luke. Thank you so much.’
‘I love you too,’ he shouted.
Now that Bryony was alone in the house, she went downstairs and poured herself a wine glass full of vodka.
She slung it back without pausing, grimacing only slightly at the fire that grew in her belly and made its way up her throat. Gasping in appreciation, she poured another glass. She slung back a mouthful of this one too. Paused. Gulped the rest down.
She found two more bottles in the cupboard underneath the sink. Plenty to be getting on with, she thought with a sad smile.
She wanted to drink until she couldn’t feel.
Chapter 82
With most of his face hidden beneath his hood, Luke took to the streets. He wasn’t sure if the news of his escape would have been released yet, so he wanted to be careful.
Sneaking through the back alleys, his anger rose as he passed the place where the gang had beaten him and Tom.
He pushed the feeling down for now, knowing that he needed to think clearly. The time to use his growing anger and hatred for the gang would come.
Until then he needed to stay focussed and avoid anyone who might be trying to catch him.
He tried to remember everything about that night from eighteen months ago.
The feeling of being helpless flooded into his head.
The darkness inside the bag as he was bundled into the car.
His sense of terror as they had tied him to the chair.
Wait! There was something in between, a dim recollection that struggled to make itself known.
That was it! The smell of curry on the way into the house. He couldn’t remember fleeing; that was all a blur, but he remembered that the house was on the same street as the only curry house in Marshton.
His grin widened. The scarred skin by the sides of his mouth ached with the grin, but he kept smiling.
He made his way to the curry house, knowing that he was drawing closer to his prey with every step.
Chapter 83
Bryony swayed as she slung back the dregs of the first vodka bottle. The liquid burnt its way down to her stomach, filling her with warmth from belly to throat.
Drops of the cold liquid ran down her chin, soaking into her top. It didn’t matter. The blood, dirt and semen that already stained the garment were enough to ruin it.
She swallowed the last of the vodka and hurled the empty bottle against the wall. It showered her with broken glass. She cared not. Her body was already broken, abused. A few small cuts weren’t going to make any difference to her.
She uncapped another bottle of vodka and took a long pull.
The alcohol was kicking in nicely now, her head was warm and fuzzy, her vision beginning to blur. Encouraged by the feeling, she slung back another mouthful.
The curry house was a blackened husk. Marshton didn’t take kindly to foreigners, or anyone who was slightly outside the boundaries of normality.
Luke tried to remember out of which house he’d ran. He knew it wasn’t the one next to the curry house. But it could have been the one next to it, or possibly the one next to that.
He did a quick check around him, then strolled up the path of the first house and pressed his hands to the glass. The front room was in darkness but he made out nice furniture and toys strewn about the floor.
This wasn’t the place.
He hopped the fence, ducking out of sight as a car’s headlights illuminated the stretch of darkness by the road.
He paused for a minute, making sure the car wasn’t looking for him, then stood up. The need to get this done quickly had been reinforced by the car’s passing.
Peering through the window, he saw bare floorboards and multi-coloured walls.
This was undoubtedly the place.
He smiled.
Tried the door.
Cursed when he discovered it was locked. Best go round the back, he was way too exposed out here.
He snuck round into the back alley and pushed the gate open, wincing when the hinges squealed. He ducked down behind a wheely bin when lights came on in the upstairs window.
Luke saw the silhouettes of at least three lads. Somehow he knew that they were members of the gang who had attacked him and threatened Bryony.
He glanced up as Johnny T came to the window, a double-barrelled shotgun broken over his arm.
‘Fuck,’ Luke hissed.
His heart was pounding fit to burst. He felt every beat in his head as the blood rushed through.
Maybe this was a bad idea. There must be a better way, he thought.
An idea formed in his mind. In the few minutes it took for the light to extinguish he had explored the possibilities and decided that it was the best course of action.
He waited behind the bin for another minute in case the gang had switched it off to trick him out of hiding. Then he snuck out of the yard and made his way down the alley into town.
Chapter 84
Alfred checked his watch. Half past one. The King’s, the pub where Dean worked the door, was open till two.
After that, he knew that the doormen from the King’s worked the doors of the Lounge until closing at half three. At least that’s what used to happen. He’d been out of town for a long time but he hoped the times hadn’t changed.
Not much changed in Marshton, so he was relatively confident that this wouldn’t have either.
He figured Kelly would go home with Dean at the end of his shift and decided to just wait in the alley until the Lounge kicked out. Better that than get another punch from Dean when he caught him in the Lounge.
Then fortune smiled upon him.
Dean and Kelly were leaving the King’s, heading for the car park across the road from him.
Kelly was paralytic, Dean realised with a smile. Even by her standards she was drunk.
Dean liked to make sure she got home safely. If working the doors in Marshton had taught him anything, it was that there were weirdos everywhere. He didn’t want to run the risk of anything happening to her when she was in such a vulnerable state.
Dean tried to lead Kelly along towards the car but her legs were shot. He realised it would be quicker if he carried her and pulled her into a crossing-the-threshold-style carry.
Though Dean was fit and strong, he moved slowly. Kelly was practically unconscious and was a dead weight. It had been a long night, too, so he wasn’t feeling particularly energetic.
Dean was so focussed on getting Kelly to the car that he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him.
Chapter 85
Upon reaching the car, Dean swung Kelly high onto his chest while he scrabbled in his pocket for the car keys.
Kelly stirred.
‘Hey, babe, just getting you home,’ he said.
She nodded and slumped back over his shoulder.
He found the keys and got the door open. Put Kelly on the back seat. As he did so she leaned out of the car and opened her mouth.
A stinking flood of wine, vodka and red bull gushed out onto his trousers and shoes.
‘Jesus Christ, Kelly,’ he said.
She looked up and let out a cry.
‘Just sit up and try not to be sick,’ he said, ignoring her protests as he slammed the car door shut on her.
She hit the window, but he didn’t acknowledge her. He was too pissed off about his clothes. His legs were too big
for regular trousers, so he’d spent a week’s wages having these specially made. Now they were ruined.
He pulled the boot open and found the bag of clothes he’d stored for later.
Kelly screamed.
While he struggled into his clean pair of trousers, he heard a voice behind him.
‘Remember me, fucko?’
He turned to see the man he’d punched earlier. Something sharp was clutched in the fat man’s hand. Before Dean could do anything, the man had punched the blade into his belly.
The pain was like nothing Dean had ever felt.
While he looked on in disbelief, the man stabbed him twice more and shoved him into the boot. His head thudded into the wall of the boot then the lid slammed down, leaving him in darkness.
Alfred got into the driver’s seat and pulled away. The girl was in the back, too drunk to do anything.
‘Told you we belonged together,’ he smiled.
He drove to a quiet road and turned and looked at the girl. She looked terrified and he knew she was too drunk to defend herself.
He devoured her with his eyes, and, unable to wait for some time alone with her, climbed into the back of the car and took what he wanted.
Chapter 86
Bryony was officially fucked-up.
The last mouthful of vodka she’d guzzled seemed to have been the one that tipped her over the edge.
But instead of the oblivion she craved, the memories of the torments she’d been forced to endure in the grimy basement re-surfaced.
Without anyone to comfort her, she felt unable to cope with the feelings. She sobbed uncontrollably, her tears mingling with the mass of stains on her shirt.
She moved over to the neck of the broken vodka bottle that lay in the corner. The weight of it felt comforting in her hands.
‘Let’s not do anything stupid,’ she muttered, setting it down on the bench.