[2018] Abel's Revenge

by Ross Greenwood

  ‘We have a meeting in ten minutes, Daniel.’

  ‘What for, Kenneth? No one told me.’

  ‘We’ve had two more guys from the blue team call in with this virus. They’re struggling and are way behind target.’

  ‘That’s because their team leader thinks the only method to motivate them is to continuously feed them chocolate. Coaching, training, monitoring? No chance! Shovel in more sweets, lollies, and ice creams like a demented fireman on a steam train. That will do the trick. They aren’t ill, they’re sick. Anyone would be. Either that or too fat to get through the entrance doors. Tell him less carrot is needed and more stick. Better still, make them eat carrots, give me the stick, and I’ll educate him.’

  My right eye squints as I finish the rant.

  ‘Are you okay, Daniel? You seem a little highly strung. We can cope, it’s not a problem. We’ll move some staff around until they’ve caught up.’

  His spotty neck reddens and the master plan is revealed.

  ‘Ah, I see. By some staff, you mean my staff.’

  He grins at me. My heart speeds up again.

  ‘Well, yes, in a word.’

  ‘Then, I’ll be behind.’

  ‘You’ll catch up. You’re a performer. We rate you, Daniel. You never let us down.’

  ‘Fabulous.’

  I give him what I hope is a dirty scowl, but most likely looks like I need the toilet, and carry on to my desk. The air-conditioning in our office is always on, it just doesn’t work. The team leaders bought fans. Mine has been stolen as usual. I check the rota to see who’s on the late shift and then steal hers.

  She has sweetly written her name in correction fluid on the base, so I’ll need to use a coin to wipe that off before she gets to work. In the summer, it’s an incinerator in here, and people are less forgiving. Today, she will laugh it off and steal someone else’s when they go to lunch.

  I glance at my emails and find there are surprisingly few. Sometimes it’s lunchtime before I’ve actioned them. I swivel in my chair. Celebrating small wins is necessary in this hell. There’s a posh Parker pen dropped on the floor near my desk. They must want me to have it. Double result.

  Olivia thanked me for sending her flowers this morning. I had no idea what she was on about. I sign in to online banking and check the payment history for my credit card. There’s no floral entries at all, just the usual recreational items for my own needs. I smiled when she mentioned it. It was weird as the way she laughed made me think it wasn’t the first time. Hopefully she’ll never find out who’s been sending them and I’ll be able to retain the brownie points.

  Ken pops his head out of the sea of desks.

  ‘Daniel. The meeting is cancelled.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  ‘Blue team leader has rung in sick. You’ll need to cover his guys as well as your own.’

  Chapter 14

  Abel

  The next day

  My father died a long time ago. He seemed pleased to be going. I realised over the following years I missed him. I should have spoken to him when I had the chance. Did he know the black dog of depression or did he have issues like mine?

  I don’t have shadowed thoughts because during bad times I feel absent. We live amongst millions of people, yet I’m isolated. I walk the streets at night or first thing in the morning, and I see others who have had enough. We never acknowledge one another as that would be the same as facing the truth.

  The sickness I repressed all that time ago, is stronger. For many years it was only a memory. However, now, it pulses. Without treatment, it has grown and multiplied. A cancer needs no observation to blossom. Although what was there has been corrupted further by the dark.

  I’m not sure what will happen. Does it now need to kill? I understand it wants control and action. I’m too weak to withstand its desires, and I will gradually cave.

  I smile with a shrug. I am the sickness. Why do I resist? Ultimately, unequivocally, and with dread, the world will remember me.

  Another jogger runs past. They look so similar they might as well have a uniform. They neither nod nor smile. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m invisible. Is this a dream?

  In this stone place, we are a rotten race. We do evil things to each other seemingly without consequence. Royal families, the politicians, the rich, they keep us so repressed that I doubt they know we’re alive. We could be robots, made to serve them. They need us to pump their petrol, mix their drinks and serve their food. We are necessary, but unequal.

  With these thoughts, I recognise my task. As the sun climbs, my role becomes obvious. I will rise up. They will acknowledge Abel, and those like me. They too must know fear. Gone will be the days when their main concern was vacancies at their favourite restaurants. This city is criminal already, they need to be made aware. All shall suffer. It’s the start of something different; an age of dread and suspicion.

  I slow down in the location I selected. An unlucky woman with poor timing and a bouncing ponytail strides around a steep bend in the path. The streets are hushed and empty. The arrogant cow has sunglasses on despite the early hour.

  She edges to her side of the track as she approaches. Does she suspect in that cocoon of music and Spandex? Are her eyes straight ahead, dreaming of her fat promotion, or are they darting for escape routes? Is she aware her life will be different now?

  At the last second, I step into her path. Both her hands come up to prevent us colliding. I grip both wrists and smile.

  Chapter 15

  Barbara, the jogger

  Two days later

  Barbara recalls as soon as she steps into the police station that she hasn’t been in one since a school visit fifteen years ago. She’s nervous, and has been for two days. It’s a pleasant morning, yet she pulls her coat around her. With a shudder, she approaches the counter. The floor behind is raised and the big man peers down, giving her a tired smile that fails to animate his face.

  ‘I’m here to report a crime.’

  ‘Okay, what sort of crime is it?’

  She realises she doesn’t know, and feels foolish.

  ‘I rang earlier. Detective Constable Sharpe said to come in and speak to him.’

  The desk sergeant picks up a phone and makes a call, gesturing for Barbara to wait on a row of wooden seats attached to a wall. A man younger than Barbara’s twenty-nine years comes out of a door and gestures for her to follow him through a detector. It beeps, but he ignores it. They enter a bright room with sharp furniture and both take a seat. A lady enters the room and sits next to him.

  ‘Barbara Evans, I’m Detective Sharpe and this is Detective Inspector Yvonne Jordan. You said on the phone you wanted to inform us of a crime. A man attacked you.’

  ‘That’s right. It happened a few mornings ago.’

  ‘Why did you wait to report it?’

  The details of the incident have furred up in her memory, but the shock of seeing the police tape in the park on the way home that night is vivid.

  ‘I heard another girl in the same place was tripped up and beaten. I thought they may be connected. That park is near where I live, and I use it most days.’

  The inspector interrupts.

  ‘Do you want a coffee or a glass of water? I’m sorry for the harsh room. We have other places to talk but they’re busy.’

  ‘It’s okay. My incident wasn’t as horrible as hers.’

  The police officers frown. The older woman takes control. ‘Please tell us what happened. Give as much detail as you can.’

  He opens his notepad, and Barbara looks up and begins.

  ‘As I said. I jog there most mornings. Lots of people do. I’m a lawyer and it helps clear my head. I was near the end of the route and a man I ran past stepped in front of me at the last second.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I placed my hands on his chest and pushed to get him to move, but he didn’t. Then, he grabbed my wrists.’

  ‘Okay, can you describe him?’

 
‘Not well. He was approximately my height, five ten, fairly average build. It was still dark, and we were under trees, so I couldn’t see him. He wore a sweatshirt with the hood pulled down over his face and a black snood, and I think he had a beard.’

  ‘What’s a snood?’

  ‘Like a scarf.’

  Sharpe stops himself rolling his eyes. He wonders why Barbara didn’t say scarf.

  ‘What happened after he grabbed your wrists? Did he hurt you?’

  ‘No, he held them firmly but not painfully. He stood in front of me and mumbled a few words. Then, I kneed him in the groin. Hard. I kickbox. I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘Good for you. Then what did you do?’

  ‘I ran away. He toppled over as you’d expect.’

  ‘Did you see anyone else at the time? Other joggers you knew?’

  ‘You understand how it is living here. It’s best not to talk to strangers, so I listen to music and avoid eye contact.’

  ‘In summary.’ Sharpe checks his notes. ‘A man of average height, weight and build, and of indeterminate race, stepped in front of you. He wore dark clothes, and probably had a beard, but the snood made it unclear. He grabbed you resolutely on the arm but not hard enough to bruise. You incapacitated him and ran away.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You haven’t given us much to go on, and he hardly sounds like Jack the Ripper.’

  ‘If you weren’t going to do anything or take me seriously, why am I wasting my time?’

  DI Jordan looks as angry as Barbara feels. She addresses Sharpe.

  ‘Get me a coffee if she doesn’t want one.’

  When he’s left, she speaks in a quieter tone.

  ‘He didn’t mean to criticise your comments. We’re always short-staffed, and today we’re struggling to cope. The jogger assaulted in the same place as you is still in intensive care, and another woman was punched in the face this morning in a different park.

  ‘Sharpe is frustrated and at the back end of a long shift. We have no witnesses, or any idea what the perpetrator looks like. The last girl said the same as you. Average, non-descript, we don’t even know his skin tone. Can you recall his eye colour?’

  ‘No, but that’s what stayed with me. They were dark and emotionless. You recognise if someone means you harm, and he did. The adrenalin got me through the experience, but now I’m afraid. I’m too scared to go jogging, and I hate being alone. Even though I fought him off, it’s affected me.’

  ‘I understand. You feel helpless and vulnerable. Sadly, this type of crime is common. We get at least one a week. You said he mumbled something to you.’

  ‘Yes, but the last four words stayed with me.’

  ‘What were they?’

  ‘My name is Abel.’

  Chapter 16

  Olivia

  Two days later

  I see why Dan hates the school run. It’s a mile journey that regularly takes over half an hour in the car. It’ll be easier when Charlie’s older. Then, he can go on his scooter with Grace, and I’ll walk. It will take the same time but be healthier.

  A lorry belches diesel fumes into my window as it passes by, and my love for this place weakens. I’ve never been to California, but in my mind’s eye it’s blue skies and open spaces. I can’t desert my parents though. They have no one else to care for them.

  The squawking from the back seats is still below jet fighter level, so I leave them to it. My deceitful mind wanders to seeing Mike at seven o’clock. I don’t want anything to happen, but it will be nice to flirt. He’s the type of guy I always used to fall for. Blond hair, good-looking, generous. The first six months were often amazing, but as soon as we made it over that hump and I saw a future, they went nuts.

  It was as if they sought a new version of me. Some of them wanted someone younger as the years passed, but most missed the buzz of enjoyment from the mutual fantasy of having found one’s soul mate. When that ends, as it must, they crave the “high” and start the search again. That’s hard to take, when your clock ticks.

  One relationship lasted two years until I caught him in my make-up. I wouldn’t have minded, but he ruined my favourite lipstick and did a terrible job. Maybe Dan’s right, and all men are confused. Although, I imagine Mike would look good in drag.

  He knocks at seven sharp. I knew he would. I’ve spent an hour worrying what to wear. It’s a minefield. Something too tarty gives him the idea to do me over the range cooker. That might be okay as long as the oven isn’t on.

  Saying that, I’d prefer notice, so I could give it a quick clean. Otherwise, I could end up glued to it. That would take some explaining when Dan came home. I settle for the denim skirt he liked and one of Dan’s shirts. Even though he is taller than me, with my big boobs, they fit just right. It will be a barrier between us, and should keep me faithful.

  Strolling in, Mike resembles a mechanic from a washing powder advert. White T-shirt, blue jeans, and a dirty smear on his chest, that surely, he must have done himself. He has a fancy tool box too which is battered so it looks well used. I’m treated to a smile, and he waves at the kids. They shrink from his stare, as though a hungry dinosaur wandered in for supper. In his defence, they do that to most visitors. He rolls two kinder eggs across the floor to them.

  ‘Is the broken thing in the kitchen?’

  I’m tempted to say Dan’s at work, but instead I nod. Mike is slippery. Did I tell him those eggs are the best treat for kids because there’s only a small amount of chocolate, but also a toy. I hope he hasn’t drilled a hole through our connecting walls and been listening. I shut the door to the lounge to block out that bloody pig theme tune, and conclude that if he had overheard us, he’d not have come in. More likely, he would have moved house.

  I watch him attack the washer as if he is Grace tackling a twelve-piece jigsaw. There are a few squirts, hisses, and taps. A couple of beeps and an ‘Ahhh’. It reminds me of Dan having a beer and a ready meal.

  ‘Whoever topped the salt up didn’t screw the lid back on correctly.’

  Neither of us need to acknowledge who that was.

  ‘I should think that caused it to fizz up inside and then fluid will have gone in the overflow at the bottom of the machine. Too much water in there and it stops. It’s a safety feature.’

  ‘Can you fix it?’

  ‘I have. I’ve drained the pan. It might work straight away or give it a day to dry out and you’ll be good as new. I’m more than happy to pop over, Olivia. Don’t forget that.’

  There is something thrilling about a handy handyman.

  ‘Can I get you a drink? Tea, beer?’

  ‘I’d love a glass of vino?’

  My eyes stray to our empty wine rack. It used to be full. Dan emptied it as fast as I could fill it up, as if it was an unwritten challenge, so I don’t even try anymore. Perhaps Mike has been listening through the walls. He clicks his fingers.

  ‘You know, I have a few bottles already cool in my fridge. You enjoy char-do-nay?’

  The way he says it makes me think I would love chardonnay.

  I grab my oversized glasses and hand them to Mike when he returns. He pours me a judgement-dismantling measure and reveals a charming story of where the wine originated. I flick the radio on to a local channel and take a sip. He has good taste.

  Time flies. We’re only interrupted by a call from Grace’s school saying we had six items in the lost property box. It’s not surprising. Dan loses at least one thing a trip when he picks up or drops off the kids. Mike laughs when I tell him. He says he used to adore the school run, and the only way to do it is to count the items off when the children come out. I’d said the same to Dan.

  He tells me he’s a dentist. He mentions his family, why he left New York, and even the odd bit about an ex-wife and a boy he rarely sees. Reading between the now blurred lines, I can see he’s still bitter.

  I don’t hear a peep from the kids and, with trepidation, go to check they haven’t set up a meth lab. They’re q
uietly playing teachers and pupils. That’s unusual, maybe they smoked the meth. The house is peaceful and relaxed in a way I can’t ever remember since we had children.

  Nevertheless, the bedtime routine beckons, and I break the news to Mike. With his usual daintiness, an exhausted looking Dan chooses that moment to arrive home from work. He trips over the school shoes and falls on the carpet. My bad. I chuckle as I repeat Mike’s Americanisms. For a few seconds, Dan contemplates not getting up. He pulls himself to his feet with a disorientated expression. I have a vision of him stepping from an upturned vehicle in the same way.

  He shouldn’t be back for hours and I can’t help frowning at my watch, or the guilty glance I give to the two empty wine bottles on the table. Mike’s innocent easy-going visage has changed to one of challenge.

  ‘You’re home early, love.’

  ‘Not a moment too soon it appears.’

  Chapter 17

  Dan

  What a nasty sight to greet my eyes. It’s lucky I don’t wear slippers, or I’d be tempted to peek under the kitchen table to see if Mike was wearing them. Knowing him, he’s brought his own. Her shirt has a button missing too, and you get an eyeful from any side-on vantage point. No wonder Mike’s grinning.

  Now I look closer, his face has a sneer on it. It’s a challenging alpha male glare I have neither the energy nor the inclination to challenge. I explain my arrival as the silence roars in our ears.

  ‘Ken let me go home early as I fell asleep at my desk. I had a weird, long, mostly shit day.’

  ‘Mike’s leaving so I can put the kids to bed. Are they still in the lounge?’

  ‘They were both playing outside on the driveway when I arrived.’

  Olivia flies away as the children aren’t allowed out the front unsupervised. She’s gullible too. Mike stands next to me. His teeth smile, but his eyes glint.