At The Edge of Night - 28 book horror box set - also contains a link to an additional FREE book

by Bray, Michael

  “Yeah, why not. I have time for one more.”

  “Well go ahead and take a seat,” Ferguson said, gesturing to the empty barstool next to him. Charlie sat as Ferguson ordered beers. The two sat and drank for a few minutes, watching the football game on the big screen TV above the bar.

  “So,” Charlie said. “What are you up to these days man?”

  “Apart from work, not a hell of a lot.” Ferguson shot back as he took a great swig of beer.

  Charlie looked at his former classmate in profile, and now that he was a little closer, he was again struck by how little his appearance had altered. He was still skinny, he still wore glasses, although those were more modern now than the huge black framed ones that he used to wear at school. The thing that really seemed to have altered was his confidence, and unlike when they were in school, Ferguson could now look Charlie in the eye when they spoke.

  “What about you?” Ferguson said with a grin. “How is life treating Charlie Brooks these days?”

  “Not bad,” Charlie said, managing to fake a grin.

  In truth, life of late had developed a habit of kicking Charlie in the balls on what felt like a daily basis. He was working a shitty job, just managing to make ends meet and was in the middle of what was looking increasingly likely to be a very messy divorce. He took another drink and swallowed away his problems.

  “Are you married? Kids?” Ferguson pressed, and Charlie felt a slicker of the old anger towards Ferguson and was starting to wish he hadn’t walked over to say hi.

  “No kids, and although I’m married, I won’t be for long.”

  Ferguson sucked air through his teeth and shook his head.

  “I’m sorry to hear that Charlie,”

  “Me too.”

  “What happened?”

  “She decided to screw around behind my back.”

  “That can’t be easy to live with.”

  “Damn right it ain't. She just came clean out of the blue one day. Confessed everything. You can guess the rest.”

  “Look I’m sorry, really I am.”

  I bet you are, you fuckin’ asshole.

  Charlie’s thoughts were taking a decidedly dark turn, which was all just a little too familiar, especially where Ferguson was concerned. However, he reminded himself that those days were behind them, and they were adults now. He sipped his beer and turned the tables, curious to see if his former classmate was faring any better than he was.

  “What about you Ferguson? What have you been doing since school ended?”

  He was bitter and didn’t hide it, but if Ferguson noticed, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he shrugged.

  “Well, I got married, have a son and a daughter.”

  “Yeah? Good on you man. I’m glad to hear it.” Charlie said, almost able to hide his jealousy.

  “What are you doing for work?” Charlie pressed, keen to know as much as possible about the kid he used to bully.

  “You heard of Trans Ex?”

  “The export guys? Sure, I heard of them. They run from down at the docks right?”

  “Yeah, that’s them,” Ferguson said as he finished his drink.

  “That’s good going man, how long have you worked there?”

  “I don’t work there. I own it.” Ferguson said and flashed a grin that was half-sincere half smug.

  The news enraged Charlie, who was finding himself bitterly jealous of his former classmate.

  “Holy shit, you own the place? Man, you did well.”

  Ferguson shrugged. “I did what I could to make something of myself, that’s all. As you remember, school was... tough.”

  “Yeah…” Charlie said, knowing that the subject would come up. “Look, about that… I’m sorry man. I’m sorry for being such a dick to you all those years. I was just a kid. I didn’t know any better.”

  He held Ferguson’s gaze, because, despite his jealousy, he was sorry for what he had done.

  “Forget it,” Ferguson said with a smile. “That’s all in the past. How about another beer for old time’s sake?”

  “I should be going,” Charlie said, not wanting to admit that he couldn’t even afford another beer.

  “Come on, one more, on me. Just to show there are no hard feelings.”

  You patronising son of a bitch.

  Charlie dismissed the thought, wondering how little Fergie had managed to get under his skin so easily.

  “Ah, hell with it. Maybe just one more then I really have to go.”

  “Good man,” Ferguson said as he motioned to the bartender. This time, when he took out his wallet to pay for the drinks, Charlie couldn’t help but look to see how much cash he had, and wished he hadn’t, the array of notes stuffed into his wallet fuelling his jealousy.

  The drinks were served, and Ferguson held up his bottle.

  “To forgiveness.” He said.

  Charlie hesitated, then picked up his own bottle and clinked it against Ferguson’s.

  “And to apologies.” He added.

  The two men grinned and took long drinks from their respective beers. Charlie thought that if he buttered Fergie up enough, he could maybe manage to wrangle himself a job down on the docks and stave off losing the house for another month or two. He took another sip of his drink and wondered how long it might take him to drink Fergie unconscious and maybe help himself to that wallet full of cash. The two drank, and when they were finished, Ferguson ordered more beers as the two talked about old acquaintances long past and off the radar, but never about the bullying. That, it seemed was still taboo and that suited Charlie just fine. He drained his fifth beer and wondered just how much more he could fleece out of little Fergie Faggot before he realised he was being played.

  ***

  Charlie woke face down to the hazy hangover headache that had become all too familiar in his life of late. His mouth was dry and had the distinct taste of old carpet and stale beer. He was stiff and sore, and tried to force himself awake. Memories of the previous night were hazy, half-remembered snatches of conversations and drinking more and more and more.

  “You awake Charlie?”

  “Fergie?” Charlie mumbled as he forced his eyes open and rolled onto his side.

  “What the hell did we do last night I-”

  It was then that Charlie realised that his hands were taped together behind his back. He tried to move his legs but discovered that they too were taped.

  “What the hell?” He mumbled as he tried to make sense of everything. He forced his eyes open, allowing them time to focus.

  Ferguson was sitting on a chair at his feet, hands flat on his knees as he watched Charlie struggle to come around.

  “You just take your time Charlie,” Ferguson said. “It will all come back to you soon enough.”

  “ Whattimeisit?” He grumbled as he tried to organise the soup that seemed to have replaced his brain. “Is this your place?”

  “No, this isn’t my place. Not exactly. This is your place. Or at least, now it is.”

  Something in Fergusons tone of voice alerted Charlie to the fact that not all was well, and he forced himself to focus on where he was – which appeared to be on the floor of a shipping container. As best as he could tell from his prone position, its walls and roof were red painted steel. Sunlight streamed through the open door on Fergusons back, as Charlie’s former classmate watched in fascination as the pieces started to fall into place.

  “What’s going on Fergie?” Charlie asked, watching Ferguson from the floor.

  A breeze stirred the air in the shipping container, and Charlie’s disorientation was shattered by the awful stench that was pushed towards him by the air. He retched, and for a moment thought he was going to be spared the indignity of throwing up, but his stomach churned violently, and he vomited onto the floor, the ejecta pooling around his face as he struggled for breath.

  “What the hell is that smell man?” He spat around stringy lumps of his own vomit.

  Ferguson stood and strode towards Charlie, c
rouching on his haunches by his head. Charlie squinted up at him, the side of his face encrusted with the spoils of the previous night’s binge drinking.

  “What are you going to do with me Fergie?” He whispered as Ferguson looked on, a wide grin on his face.

  “I’m not going to do anything to you, Charlie. Not in comparison to the hell you put me through at school that is.”

  “We were just kids… I already said I was sorry.” Charlie spat.

  “Do my eyes deceive me? Or is big, tough Charlie Priestley crying?”

  “No man, I ain't crying, it’s that smell, its making my eyes water, it fucking stinks in here.”

  “That would be because of Ringwood and Schofield,” Ferguson said as he grabbed Charlie and lifted him into a seated position, then dragged him towards the wall, propping him in a sitting position. He crouched and leaned close, glaring at Charlie from inches away.

  “I have been waiting for this day, Charlie. I have been waiting for you, just like I waited for Ringwood and Schofield.” He rolled his eyes towards the back of the container. Charlie followed his gaze and saw the two bundles of rolled carpet. Although he couldn’t see it, he knew what was inside and also that the carpets were the source of the stench which had made him throw up. His suspicions seemed to be confirmed by the haze of flies which circled above the rugs, and the disgusting infestation of maggots which covered the cheap blue pile.

  “Is that?... Did you?…” Charlie couldn’t get the words out. His brain was overloaded with fear as he stared at the rolled carpet which he was certain contained the corpses of his old school friends.

  Ferguson stood and returned to his seat, placing his hands palms down on his knees.

  “I feel like hell. What did you do to me?” Charlie snapped.

  “Rohypnol. Knocked you clean out.”

  “The date rape drug? What the hell did you do that for Fergie?” Charlie said, unable to hide the panic in his voice.

  “I had to so I could bring you here.”

  “And why am I here?” Charlie whispered.

  “You are here Charlie because I have a few things I need to get off my chest.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “Things like the way you made my life hell you bullying son of a bitch.” Ferguson spat, the smile melting off his face.

  “I thought that was behind us, you said…”

  “I told you what I had to in order to get you here.”

  “And what about them?” Charlie said, nodding to the maggot infested carpets at the back of the container. “What did you do to them?”

  Ferguson smiled and shrugged. “Look, we are getting ahead of ourselves here. This is about us, not them.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “I want to know why? Why out of all those kids, you chose me as the target? Why chose my life as the one you would make hell?”

  “It wasn’t like that man, I was just a kid, I didn’t know any better.”

  Ferguson went on as if Charlie hadn’t spoken, the wide, fixed grin still firmly in place.

  “There were other kids, of course, I know you and those asshole friends of yours always gave Paul Jennings a hard time, but I was always your favourite wasn’t I? It was always me who would be the target.”

  “Look, man, I get it,” Charlie said, his voice shrill. “I owe you and I promise I'll make it up to you, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what?” Ferguson said, tilting his head.

  “Money, I can give you money. I have savings. Just let me go and you can have it all. No questions asked.”

  “Oh yeah? How much are we talking here?” Ferguson said, pushing his glasses back up his face.

  “Twenty grand, all yours if you just let me go.”

  “You swear you will behave and give me the money if I cut you free?”

  “I swear man, I promise!” Charlie said, nodding for effect. “I’ll take you straight to the bank and get you the money, right now, today. Just set me loose.”

  “Okay then, it’s agreed. Twenty grand buys you your life. Deal?”

  “Deal man, deal,” Charlie said, just waiting for the first opportunity to get his hands free so he could pummel the shit out of his captor.

  Ferguson stood and fished a knife out of his pocket, unfolding the blade as he approached Charlie.

  “Now lean forwards whilst I cut your restraints free.”

  “You got it Fergie,” Charlie said as Ferguson crouched beside him. “I just want you to know that there will be no hard feeling here, we will just-”

  Sharp, hot agony surged through Charlie’s finger, and he squirmed away from Ferguson, rolling on his back as Ferguson returned to his chair.

  “You cut me, you fucking cut me!” Charlie yelped as he rolled in his own blood.

  “Actually, I cut your finger off. Look.” Ferguson said as he dangled Charlie’s severed little finger between his own thumb and forefinger.

  “We had a deal, why?….”

  “Even now you haven’t changed,” Ferguson said as he tossed the severed finger towards Charlie, who was still rolling on his side in pain.

  “I always knew when you were lying to me back at school Charlie, and age hasn’t made you a better liar.”

  “But I have the money, I’m good for it!”

  “I would be careful what you say next unless you want to lose another finger.”

  Charlie stopped rolling and touched his forehead to the ground. He was sobbing now, a mucus bubble in his nose contracting and expanding with every ragged, snorted breath.

  “I don’t have it as such, but I can get it. Every penny. I give you my word.”

  Ferguson laughed. It was incredibly loud as it rolled around the container walls. “Twenty grand to me is nothing. It's pocket change. It just goes to show that even with assholes like you, Ringwood and Schofield riding my ass and making every waking moment of my school life hell, I still made more of myself than you ever will. And besides...”

  Ferguson stood and walked towards the prone Charlie, who flinched as he neared. Ferguson helped his prisoner back to a sitting position against the wall and then whispered in his ear. “I know everything about you.”

  “Wha- what do you mean?” Charlie stammered as Ferguson returned to his seat.

  “Just that. I know you, Charlie. I know your life. I know that you are close to losing your home. I know you move from shitty job to shitty job because you don’t have the intelligence of the work ethic to make a go of life. I know you have a drinking problem, and that was one of the reasons why Sophia left you.”

  Charlie was staring open-mouthed, trying to make sense of what was being said. Ferguson saw his reaction and laughed.

  “You think our meeting last night was an accident? It was all planned. Nothing was accidental. You haven’t taken a shit for the last two years without me knowing about it.”

  “That’s sick! I always knew you were a weird one Ferguson. This just proves it.”

  “Sick?” Ferguson repeated, enjoying the show. “I’ll show you sick.”

  He stood and walked towards Charlie, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a bundle of photographs.

  “What are those? What you got there?” Charlie said, straining to see.

  “You know Charlie, watching you live your pathetic little life was fun for a while. Then I even started to feel sorry for how much of a waster you were. The only thing you had going for you, was that wife of yours. Now she was smoking hot. Credit where it’s due, you did well there.”

  “I swear to you if you have hurt her...”

  “Relax, I didn’t hurt her. She never did anything to me, and so I have no reason to hurt her. See I am a pillar of this local community, I contribute. All of this may seem sick to you, but it’s what you deserve.”

  Ferguson dropped the photos on the floor and spread them out with his foot so that Charlie could see them all, and when he did, his stomach rolled in disgust at what they contained.


  They were of Ferguson and Sophia.

  Charlie tried to tell himself as he looked at the photos that his wife had been forced into doing those things, but he could see by the look in her eyes and the way she was performing acts on Ferguson that she would never even dream of doing with him, that she was enjoying every moment of it.

  “You son of a bitch, it was you,” Charlie said, glaring up at Ferguson. “You were the one who was screwing my wife!”

  “It was,” Ferguson said with a smile. “More times than I care to remember. It took a while to worm my way into her life and get her interested, but once I did, she couldn’t get enough Charlie. She used to tell me how she hated you. Hated that you were a fat, washed up loser. Did you know that towards the end, she hated the feel of your touch? She said it used to make her feel sick. I used to make her call me your name while I did her in every single way you can imagine.”

  “I swear to god, I’ll kill you.” Charlie hissed.

  “Those threats won’t work on me anymore. I’m in control here.”

  Charlie desperately wanted to take his eyes off the photographs, but couldn’t help but look, his emotions a bitter cocktail of jealousy, sorrow, and fury.

  “Why are you doing this to me? You said so yourself, you have everything. A good job, a good life. Why bother with someone like me? Why screw my life up?”

  Ferguson didn’t answer at first. He paced the container, hands clasped behind his back.

  “Back when I was fourteen, I remember I was down by Goodson’s lake. Of course, we both know back then that I had no friends. You made sure of that. Remember Charlie? The way you made everyone afraid to be my friend in case you and your running buddies decided to turn on them. Do you remember that day?”

  Charlie shook his head. “No man, I don’t remember anything.”

  “Maybe it was lost somewhere in the shuffle. Easy to imagine when you made me miserable every damn day. Anyway, you remember how I had a thing for animals?”

  Charlie didn’t answer. He was staring at Ferguson, trying to look unafraid, and failing miserably. Ferguson went on.

  “Course you do, you used to ride me about it all the time. Fergie Faggot. Isn’t that what you used to call me? Anyway, I was minding my own business down by the lake. I remember I was collecting frogspawn. I always liked frogs you know Charlie. They were always my favourite. So I’m there with my bucket full of frogspawn because I wanted to take some home and watch them hatch into tadpoles and grow. I was always going to put them back of course, I just wanted to see the process. But then you turned up, remember? You and those other two assholes who were never more than an arm’s length away.”