by Jacob Rayne
Luke saw his intent and cried out in frustration. He wanted Johnny T to suffer. This was far too painless for him.
The roar of the shotgun filled the tiny bathroom then the top of Johnny T’s head hit the ceiling in a raging torrent of blood and chunks of brain and skull. The blood pissed out of the remains of his head. His eyes glazed over instantly, then he slumped back, spilling blood down behind him into the bath.
‘Well, you can’t win ’em all,’ Alfred said. ‘But still, that was pretty fucking impressive.’
Luke glowered – he’d wanted the pleasure of cutting Johnny T up and feeding him the pieces – but he couldn’t help but appreciate the gore that dripped down from the ceiling and the seemingly never-ending crimson deluge that gushed from Johnny T’s shattered skull.
‘We’d best get out of here,’ Alfred said. ‘They’ll have heard those gunshots for miles around.’
Luke nodded, but his eyes were fixed to the river of red that flooded into the bath and swirled down the plughole.
Alfred climbed out of the window and disappeared across the roof.
Luke watched for a few seconds more, relishing the bloody gaping hole in his enemy’s skull, then he turned and ran downstairs.
He left Johnny T’s corpse in the bath. There was only Tommy left from the Marshton Eight. The chances of him getting caught now were slim.
Chapter 125
Louie’s eyes were dazzled by the sudden brightness. He had lost track of the amount of time he had spent trapped in the darkness in the boot of Hirst’s car.
Blinking his eyes, he tried to adjust them to the glare. When he managed to focus, Hirst was standing over him.
‘I think your friend Johnny T has finally got what was coming to him,’ Hirst said. ‘There was a call to the emergency services to say that gunshots were fired at his address.’
Louie groaned beneath his gag.
‘It’s ok, Louie, this is almost over with. It’s nearly time for you to play your part.’
Hirst slammed the boot shut on Louie and picked up his radio.
‘I am proceeding to the address. Do not send anyone in, I shall handle this alone.’
He got in his car, pressed the button to open his garage door and drove to Johnny T’s address.
Chapter 126
Tommy watched the masked man who had killed most of his friends leave Johnny T’s house.
He knew that Johnny T was dead. Had heard the struggles and screams and gunshots.
A very small part of him had wanted to charge the killer and make him regret killing seven of the infamous Marshton Eight.
But Tommy’s mother didn’t raise no fool.
He knew self-preservation was the best way forward. So he hid in Johnny T’s back yard, round the side of the house. From this position he had not seen the clown running along the roof.
The lunatic who had butchered his friends walked right by him, seemingly in a trance.
He didn’t notice Tommy, which was good, as even with the advantage of surprise Tommy doubted he could have moved to fight the killer.
Tommy couldn’t make out the features very well, but the killer’s face looked wrong. Kinda dead.
He remembered Otis’s words. Looked like a fucking zombie. Shuddered. They’d all laughed at Otis and now he was dead, mutilated, just like the rest of the gang.
Well, not Tommy.
He still hadn’t decided on a course of action, but he knew he’d either pluck up the courage to kill Luke, or he’d flee Marshton and never return.
One way or the other, he’d end this.
He flinched as the psychopath glanced over his shoulder, seeming to stare right at him. Tommy shrank back, willing himself to disappear into the wall on which he leant.
After a long couple of seconds (and at least ten heartbeats) Tommy watched the masked man turn away and leave the yard.
Tommy held his breath, fearing his sigh of relief was going to be loud enough to wake the dead.
He decided to follow Luke and think about his plan of action on the way.
As Tommy left the sanctuary of the shadows, he heard footsteps in the alley.
He flinched and ducked back into the gloom, certain that the killer was coming back for him.
Chapter 127
Hirst reversed his car into the back alley outside Johnny T’s and dragged Louie out of the boot. He undid the handcuffs around Louie’s legs and marched him into the house.
It didn’t take him long to find Johnny T’s body still bleeding in the bath tub.
‘You’re going to get the blame for that,’ he said, uncuffing Louie’s hands. ‘Grab hold of that gun. I want your prints on it.’
Louie hesitated but the cold hard tip of Hirst’s gun jabbed him in the back and stirred him to action.
He grabbed the shotgun cautiously, as if it was red hot to the touch. The clammy warm feel of his friend’s blood made his stomach churn.
‘Good lad, I might let you live after all,’ Hirst smiled.
He called the station on his radio. ‘I have apprehended a suspect at Johnny Taylor’s house. He was in the act of removing evidence from the scene after he’d blown Johnny’s head off with a shotgun. He was trying to make it look like a suicide. I’m bringing him in for questioning.’
‘I would say I’m sorry for this, but I’m not going to lie,’ Hirst said, shooting Louie in the knee, sending splatters of blood flying onto the wall and the floor.
Louie screamed and collapsed to the floor, holding his bleeding knee.
‘Any shit from you and your head will look like Johnny T’s,’ Hirst said. ‘Now get up. I’m taking you in.’
Nodding to show his understanding, Louie inhaled short, panicked breaths as he struggled to his feet.
Hirst cuffed him again and hauled him out to the car. He radioed ahead, to say that he had deemed it necessary to shoot Louie, as he was resisting arrest.
After a brief second of thought, he added that Louie had managed to escape and bundled him back into the boot.
Chapter 128
It hadn’t been the killer, Tommy was pleased to note. It was Louie, along with the cop who they had thought was killing their gang.
So the bastard had captured Louie before he could complete the kill.
The cop was probably letting the killer get away with murdering them, some twisted streak in him getting revenge for the crippling of his son.
Again, self-preservation triumphed over morality. He’d remained hidden in the shadows until the cop left with Louie, flinching at the gunshot which tore through the still night.
His mind reeling, he took deep breaths of the cold night air and tried to figure out his next move.
Chapter 129
Luke had left the house, still savouring the memory of Johnny T’s gushing blood, and went home.
He sat on his bed, staring at Bryony’s head, wondering if he had made the right decision. Soon he knew that he had.
The room was starting to smell as Bryony’s body decayed. Luke found the scent intoxicating.
He crawled into bed, enjoying the feel of the dried blood on his skin, and went to sleep.
That night he had an extremely vivid dream about Bryony. She appeared as an angel in a beautiful black dress.
He woke with a start, still seeing her floating above his bed, her pale wings appearing bleached in comparison to the darkness of the room and the dress she wore. She told him that she couldn’t wait any longer for him to finish his killing spree.
‘One more day,’ he screamed. ‘Just one more day.’ The phrase echoed around in his mind for what seemed like forever.
He fell into a fitful sleep.
Chapter 130
Tommy had been there when the gang had put Bryony’s windows through, so he knew where their killer lived.
He didn’t want to break in – as that had been Otis’s forte, and also he knew it was not wise to face the killer on his home turf.
Instead, he waited outside the house for Luke to
leave. He was cold, terrified, and on the verge of giving up and going home when Luke finally left the house.
He tailed Luke, giving him a good head start. With dread, he realised that they were heading to Peth Vale. He knew never to go there, had heard the stories from when he was a kid.
Only someone with a death wish would go there.
Or perhaps a masked psychopath taking out anyone who had ever screwed him over.
Tommy waited in the dying bushes at the side of the house, not daring to set foot in the grounds of the notorious Murder House.
He started as the gates creaked open. The noise was like the tines of a fork being scraped across a plate and made him want to cover his ears, but he was loath to move and risk making a sound.
The masked man fully opened the gates and got into the car, taking a cursory glance around him.
Tommy got a quick view of the sinister mask he wore, but thankfully the car’s courtesy light went out after a second, hiding the obscenity from him.
The car pulled away.
Tommy decided to wait. If the gates were open, that probably meant the killer was coming back. Besides, he could hardly follow the car on foot, could he?
Chapter 131
Roughly ten minutes later, Tommy watched the car pull into the grounds of the nightmare house again. He felt a twinge of fear, heightened by the sound of the gates slamming shut.
Luke seemed to be carrying a bundle of rags. Judging by the shape of the bundle and the way it was being carried, the rags contained a body. By the way Luke moved, Tommy could tell it was someone dear to him, a friend, or possibly a lover.
He watched Luke go up to the house and decided to leave.
No way was he setting foot in the grounds of the Murder House.
Fuck that.
Chapter 132
Luke knocked on the door. Alfred answered, looking pleased to see him until he saw the blood-soaked, body-shaped burden that Luke held in his arms.
‘My girl,’ Luke explained.
Alfred didn’t want to know. The kid was seriously fucked up.
The sooner they killed the last one of the asshole gang the better. He’d happily claim the pretty blonde girl and leave town, go somewhere the crazy freak couldn’t find him.
Luke moved past Alfred and laid Bryony’s body on the bed in Peth Vale’s main bedroom.
The sun was just starting to peek out from behind the clouds. He would wait with her remains until dark then head to the house of Tommy, his last tormentor.
While he waited, he and Alfred discussed their plan.
Chapter 133
Tommy knew that Luke would come for him, but he was forewarned.
He’d be ready.
A few phone calls later, Tommy’s backup was arranged. A few of the Marshton Eight’s hangers-on were up to sorting out the problem.
Maybe Tommy would let them join the gang, rebuild with him as leader.
Yeah, that’d be good.
Don’t jump the gun, his mind warned him. This guy will bury you if he gets chance.
There was no room for error.
He knew Luke would make a home visit to take him out and hoped he’d be tired and careless, given that after Tommy his rampage would be done.
The three lads he’d called – Charlie, Ivan and Stan – were all tough lads. He knew they’d put up a good fight. They were due any minute.
Chapter 134
Hirst also knew that Luke would be visiting Tommy to complete his slaying of the Marshton Eight.
He was parked across the street, hunched low in his seat, watching Tommy’s house. He figured Luke would show up when darkness descended upon the town.
A car pulled up a few hundred yards in front of him, its headlights low to draw as little attention as possible.
He recognised the driver as Charlie, a known associate of the Marshton Eight, who Hirst had personally put away on more than one occasion. So Tommy was getting backup, was he?
Naughty, naughty.
‘Time for a reunion,’ Hirst muttered, getting out of the car.
His hand ready on the butt of his gun, he sauntered over to Charlie’s car. Charlie groaned as he spotted the man who had put him behind bars.
‘Well, my old friend,’ Hirst smiled. ‘How are we tonight?’
Charlie said nothing.
‘We ain’t done nothing wrong, cop,’ said Stan, Charlie’s accomplice.
‘Really?’ Hirst beamed. ‘Then I suppose you’ve had your license re-instated, Charlie?’
Charlie grimaced.
‘And I’m assuming you’ve got insurance for this bucket of shit?’
Charlie said nothing.
‘What are you doing here?’ Hirst said.
‘Helping Tommy,’ Stan piped up.
‘Shut up, Stan,’ Charlie spat.
Hirst nodded. Just as he’d thought. ‘Well, I’m willing to overlook the fact that you’re driving without a license and insurance. And I’ll even turn a blind eye to the baseball bat and kitchen knife in the floor well there, if you piss off out of here and don’t come back.’
‘We can’t let Tommy down,’ Stan said.
Charlie looked up at Hirst’s unflinching gaze. Nodded.
‘Good lad,’ Hirst said. ‘You don’t want another five years inside, do you? Just get this heap of rust out of here.’
Charlie put the car in gear.
‘What are you doing?’ Stan asked, incredulous.
‘I ain’t going back inside,’ Charlie said. ‘Not even for Tommy.’
‘There’s a good lad,’ Hirst beamed.
Stan opened his door.
‘Get back in the car or I’ll do you for carrying an offensive weapon,’ Hirst said.
Stan stared at him for a second then looked away. He shut the door and settled back in his seat. His eyes locked on the dash, not wanting to look at Hirst again.
‘Now, get out of here,’ Hirst said.
Charlie pulled away.
Hirst smiled and rubbed his hands together. ‘Come on, Luke. Where are you?’
Chapter 135
Luke and Alfred had watched Hirst chase away the hired hands that Tommy had called.
Alfred said he’d follow Charlie’s car for a while, to make sure they were leaving town.
Luke nodded at the plan. He couldn’t think straight, so eager was he to get his hands on Tommy and finish the final member of the Marshton Eight.
‘I’ll see you back at Peth Vale if I miss you here,’ Luke said.
‘Yeah, don’t kill him without me this time.’
Luke nodded but he didn’t hear what the clown had said.
Alfred hung back a few hundred yards, so they didn’t realise he was following them, although he doubted they would notice if he crashed into them – they both seemed as thick as pigshit. He followed as the car made its way towards the edge of town.
Chapter 136
The nerves were getting to Hirst.
Cursing his nervous bladder, he got out of the car to relieve it in the untended garden across the road from Tommy’s place. The thick bushes hid his view of the house.
While Hirst was emptying his bladder, Ivan showed up. Ivan was middle of the three guys Tommy had called – tougher than Stan, but softer than Charlie. He was armed with a lump of scrap metal and a jagged broken bottle.
‘Let’s sort this fucker out,’ he grinned as Tommy opened the door.
‘No sign of the other two yet,’ Tommy said.
‘They’ll turn up, probably just scoring one last line of gear.’
‘Aye.’ Tommy tried a laugh, but he was too nervous.
It died in his throat.
Chapter 137
Hirst got back in the car and resumed his watch on Tommy’s house.
He was sure he saw an extra body in Tommy’s front room, but he was certain Luke could handle two. Still, he’d wait and see if Charlie came back for more.
Luke stretched away his sleepless night, then strolled onto Tommy’s street.
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He looked around, noticing Hirst sitting in his car. He nodded a greeting to the policeman – who shuddered at the brief glance he had of the grisly face beneath Luke’s hood – then he started slashing the tyres of the cars in the street.
Stopping them from running, Hirst thought with a smile.
Luke knocked on Tommy’s door, his foot tapping an excited beat on the floor.
Tommy answered with a sleepy look on his face. Luke grabbed him and pushed him back through the door.
‘Remember me? I’ve come back for you, like I did with all of your friends,’ Luke shouted in Tommy’s face.
‘Whatever happened, it was nothing to do with me,’ Tommy pleaded.
‘You kicked me in the head while I was on the floor. You waited till I was down, you fucking worm.’
Tommy’s hand fumbled in his pocket.
Luke saw a flash of light, then felt a sharp pain as the knife slashed across his face. Bryony’s skin tore, so Luke peeled it back.
‘Remember me now, you fucking coward? Remember me now?’ Luke’s rage-contorted face screamed, visible through the split in the death-mask.
Luke didn’t wait for an answer; he smashed a head butt into Tommy’s face.
Tommy shrank away from him, minus two splintered teeth. His broken nose oozed blood and snot.
Luke advanced, fists clenched, his true face showing from beneath Bryony’s lifeless features. His face was a blood-soaked vision of insanity. His eyes looked dead as they stared out from behind the mask.
Tommy was scared for his life; this madman was like something out of a violent, death-filled nightmare.
He was doubtful he and Ivan would survive. What the hell had he been thinking? He should have just run.
He clutched the knife to his chest, then swung it at Luke.
As Tommy slashed at him, Luke thrust his knife, sticking it through Tommy’s forearm. He twisted it, so the blade wedged against the bone, then pulled it free.