[2018] Abel's Revenge

by Ross Greenwood

  ‘I feel guilty already.’

  ‘I wouldn’t if I were you. Olivia asked me if you were having an affair. Said she didn’t know where you were half the time.’

  ‘Really? What did you say?’

  ‘I did what mates do. I lied. Said I often meet you at the last minute. You don’t want to confess to anything, do you?’

  He has a strange look on his face. However, the question is forgotten as the girls return looking like they’ve spent five minutes plugged into the national grid. It’s going to be a long night.

  ‘So, you’re Dan.’

  ‘That’s right. Nice to meet you, Charlotte.’

  ‘I thought you’d be younger.’

  ‘I thought you’d be older.’

  ‘My dad’s your age.’

  ‘Excellent. You win.’

  Once they come down from planet Mars, I enjoy their company. Charlotte’s hair is tied back and shows off an elegant neck. She’s willowy in a way I’ve never been. She resembles Phoebe from Friends, when I was always more of a Rachel fan. Although that’s like saying if you prefer free money to free holidays, when either will do.

  ‘What makes you want to travel?’ I ask Kathy.

  ‘We’re both twenty-five and if we don’t do it now, we might never. I loved living in the city and being at the centre of things, but it’s changing. I’m not sure I like it here anymore. The crime statistics are off the chart. You can’t even go for a jog without worrying if you’re going to make it home in one piece.’

  Charlotte chips in. ‘I bet you two have loads of stories, being so ancient and all.’

  And, of course, we do.

  As the night carries on, I could be drinking in my front room because I have no idea what’s occurring around me. Tonight, I’m twenty-five again. Every time Kathy speaks, Ian gets a look on his face like Tiny Tim when they wheeled in the turkey. However, the booze demands its ransom. I’ve resisted any drugs and I’m feeling leaden-headed. Charlotte’s knee touches mine when the others disappear the way of the bathroom.

  ‘How does it feel to be old?’

  ‘Great. To be wise, is to be happy.’

  ‘You’re funny.’

  ‘Thanks, I think.’

  ‘What age does your bum go south?’

  ‘Twenty-six. Instantly.’

  She gets out of her seat and squeezes her cheeks.

  ‘You squeeze them. Are they still firm?’

  I suppose it’s rude not to help a lady out. She bends over and backs into my waiting, cupped hands. I have the same look on my face as Grace did when she woke up last year and realised it was Christmas Day. I assure Charlotte everything is perfect and don’t even have to lie.

  ‘What’s the worst thing about getting old?’

  ‘Honestly?’

  ‘Yeah. Tell me the truth.’

  ‘For me, you feel jaded. It’s summed up by films. They keep remaking classics, like Clash of the Titans and Robocop, and you wonder why. You become nostalgic without noticing. Life was better years ago. When you’re young you only remember your embarrassing mistakes. Later, you recall being free in a way you’ll never be again.

  ‘You start to think you’ve seen it all before. That’s why it’s so amazing for children. Everything is new. How fucking fantastic is an elephant if you haven’t seen one previously?’

  ‘Or a hippo. Or a giraffe! So funny.’

  ‘Exactly. Instead, as you age, there are no more first snogs or shags. Most jokes you’ve heard. The news feels repeated. The latest songs mean nothing, yet old ones trigger memories of special times. You don’t give a shit about the drama of sports, because it doesn’t surprise you. Even sunsets get boring. Finally, people you know start to die.’

  ‘Wow. That’s depressing.’

  ‘Life can be miserable when you understand it. I can’t see a meaning in it all, can you?’

  ‘The purpose of life is to get wasted and have fun. Travel!’

  I smile. I, too, felt like that. This place has changed me. Something has shifted inside and the gloom smothers me. Maybe travelling again will reawaken my interest in living.

  ‘Why don’t you come with us? You and old droopy balls Ian.’

  ‘Talking of droopy balls, he’s been gone ages.’

  ‘They’ve gone home, dopey.’

  That’s not an unusual trick for Ian. It was nice of Charlotte to stay.

  ‘Do you think I’m attractive?’ she says.

  ‘Of course. Young is beautiful whether you’re attractive or not. Although you won’t understand that until you’re old. In your case, your features are in the right place and you look reasonably healthy, so I suspect most men would find you acceptable, and suitable for the rearing of their descendants.’

  ‘Ah, smooth. Are you chatting me up?’

  I concentrate on her mannerisms and deduce she’s at the border of merry and steaming. It suits her. Oh, to be young and giggly again.

  ‘I considered it, but then gave up when you told me I was older than your dad.’

  ‘I see. Maybe that’s why I’m keen. You’re not trying. I find you amusing, and I feel safe with you.’

  ‘Brillia-’

  And, suddenly, we’re kissing.

  Chapter 43

  The police

  The next morning

  Detective Sharpe trudges along with Detective Inspector Jordan. He hates door knocking, especially in these posh roads. At least in the flats or the slummy areas you can knock and move fast from door to door without walking up a long drive. Jordan offered to come along. She said she wanted to get a feel for the area and how people were behaving. Sharpe suspected she only wished to leave the dejected office.

  Progress in finding Abel has faltered. In fact, it never got off the ground. The surge in lawbreaking was breath-taking. It was as though committing a crime and then blaming it on Abel had become a city sport. It wasn’t just in this place either. The phenomenon had repeated itself up to fifty miles away. At least there had been no more religious elements to it all. They decided to keep that part of it quiet. Or there really would be a panic.

  The atmosphere and general negativity had dragged everyone into the doldrums. Managers recruited civilians to answer the police phones, but the volume of cases drowned any progress. No one even knew if Abel was a real name. Their databases revealed no fresh leads. To start with, Sharpe and his colleagues loved the challenge and the overtime. Now, nobody wanted either. Sickness and stress infected them all.

  He’d become run down himself, caught a virus, and spent the last ten days at home fighting sleep as he might soil himself if he lost consciousness. He was defeated in both those battles. Before he was off, it had been so manic that recording the crimes was hard enough, never mind investigating them.

  ‘Your turn to knock next, Sharpe.’

  ‘Great.’

  They haven’t spoken to anyone for ten minutes, which is odd. They can’t all have left town, or perhaps they are slumped in their chairs, riddled with bullets. She recalls earlier and turns to him. ‘Cheer up. Did you know something strange is happening?’

  Sharpe scowls. ‘I have a pretty good idea.’

  Jordan is privy to the most recent crime stats and they made good reading today. She was surprised as she knows the police haven’t done much different. This reminder of the positive news inserts a spring in her step. Working under such awful conditions had become unbearable. She laughs and decides she feels positive about getting the city into shape again. This is unexpected.

  Sharpe gives her a strange look.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Never better. I can let you in on the latest info. Since you’ve been away the last week or so, reported crime has halved. This week it halved again. Across every single category, in every borough, incidents have dropped. Management can start to lay off the temporary staff. The chief fire officers have reported their quietest period for twenty years. Hospitals are dealing with low levels of violent injuries.’

  �
��That’s odd. Why does my desk have two towers of Pisa on it then?’

  ‘That will be piles of historic stuff. We haven’t even begun to process most of it. Soon a decision will be made not to bother. Resources can then move to fresh cases where the leads are hot and there’s still a chance of solving them.’

  ‘You think Abel and his friends have gone to ground?’

  ‘I suspect Abel, alone or otherwise, is only responsible for a few incidents. There’s no way he could have committed a fraction of the things he claimed, or other people blamed on him. What he created was an environment of fear. The city lost its mind.’

  ‘That’s true. Which crimes did he commit though? It was like we were living in the wild west, or even the middle ages. Revenge was the order of the day. I heard that Judge who they suspected was crooked and disappeared, wasn’t on the run after all. Someone kidnapped him, and he was found tied up in a tent in a field. Minus his balls.’

  ‘Yes, I did hear that. Many wrongs were committed over the last six months, but doesn’t it make you think some were put right? Or at least they settled the score.’

  ‘I suppose. Although you can’t condone such horrific violence?’

  ‘No, of course not. We, the police, are here for a reason. But the vigilante groups and even the general public have chased and harried criminals out of neighbourhoods. The streets where dealers worked and prostitutes touted their wares are nearly empty now. Hundreds of criminals were killed. Thousands maybe.’

  ‘And many innocent people.’

  ‘Yes, that too. Yet, eventually, you run out of people to target. Everyone’s dead, or fled. Vengeance is taken. Scores are settled. Nobody wants to live in a permanent state of wrath, so things calm down. We may have even caught a few of the wrongdoers.’

  ‘You’re saying crime is dropping, because payback has been taken? All the bad people are gone, mostly at each other’s hands? Society is cleansed, and now we can rebuild?’

  ‘Yes. Abel was a one-man epidemic. A plague that’s now burnt out.’

  Sharpe looks around him, puzzled.

  ‘Sounds far-fetched to me. People have probably just stopped reporting it as we are clueless. Besides, don’t you think it’s anything to do with them calling in the armed forces to maintain control?’

  ‘That would have helped.’ She smiles as he frowns at another unopened door.

  ‘Jesus, where the hell is everyone?’

  The sound of a vehicle approaching grabs their attention. A shit-coloured vehicle bumps up the drive next to them. Jordan rolls her eyes as Sharpe steps forward and opens the door to let an attractive woman in her mid-forties out of the car.

  ‘Hi, Mam. Do you live here?’

  She looks perplexed by the question which isn’t promising.

  ‘I used to. I’m going to be renting it out. Why?’

  ‘There are numerous reports of people missing. Disappeared, if you like. The crimewave in the city has reached here as well. We’re door knocking to see if anyone’s seen or heard anything.’

  At that moment, a creepy looking postman bounds over and gives the lady a letter. He couldn’t have been any slimier unless he’d run his leathery tongue up the side of her face. She shivers, and ignores him.

  ‘Mam, have you noticed any strange people in the vicinity?’

  ‘It would be much quicker if I listed the normal people I know here.’

  Both the officers nod in agreement. They stand next to the woman at her front door and are confused when she knocks.

  ‘My ex still lives here.’

  Jordan glances at Sharpe.

  ‘We might as well have a word with him while we’re here.’

  Chapter 44

  Dan

  The weak morning sun peeps between the gap in the curtains. Is that a tap running, or the last drop of liquid in my body trying to escape from my poorly brain? I’ve never been run over before, but this would be similar. The guy who lost the chariot race in Ben Hur suffered like this as the horses galloped over him and away.

  My right hip hurts so much it can only be dislocated, and someone must have removed both my knee caps. The numbness in my hands and feet worries me, but thirst dominates my mind. I hear a slight gasp next to me. My back creaks as I roll onto my side where I see Charlotte sleeping.

  A guilty feeling washes over me as her young skin reminds me of Grace. My memory gently arranges last night’s jigsaws. Charlotte was slaughtered, and I had to hold her up on the way home. Her singing could have woken the dead, never mind the sleeping. I recall seeing Mike the neighbour in his dressing gown, standing in his doorway, smiling a victorious smile as we passed by.

  Then, a kaleidoscope of advanced sexual positions flickers through my subconscious. I’m lucky to be alive after all that! So, I guess it’s expected that I can barely move. As I admire her lean body and pert breasts, I must say it’s a shame. My memory is so fuzzy, it feels as though it happened to someone else. I do remember thinking this is how I used to have sex. When it was new and exciting. It was fast and frantic with Olivia at the beginning, I recall.

  I slide out of bed and stream treacle into the toilet. My squinting eyes only able to move in slow painful jerks. I’m disorientated but make it back between the sheets. Charlotte wakes and smiles at me. She whispers.

  ‘Have you got a toothbrush?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Go and use it.’

  I assume that’s a slight on my breath which could split atoms at this moment in time, but I grasp she has other ideas. She will need a defibrillator if she thinks she can get me going again. I stagger off, she follows and stands behind me. As I brush, she fiddles. She takes the toothbrush off me and then cleans her own with it. I think her doing that is what perks up the old boy.

  Eight minutes later, my ruined body straddles the bed. It was weird, but exciting, as she manhandled me into each position and more-or-less rode me like a pony. Maybe sleepy seaside donkey is more accurate. The number of times I had to think of Ian or Bailey to stop myself peaking early is too many to remember. Life is weird. I had sex with a stunning young woman and spent the majority of it thinking of my best friend and a dog. Her youthful confidence is shocking.

  ‘That was brilliant.’

  ‘You didn’t do too bad yourself, old man.’

  ‘Please, that’s too much. Lay off those heavy compliments.’

  ‘What you lack in stamina and agility, you more than make up for with enthusiasm. Anyway, I’m off home. We’re all meeting next Saturday at The Blue Brick Bar. I’ll see you there. We can plan Brazil.’

  She doesn’t notice the look of horror on my face as she glides into her jeans. My body will need to be kept in an oxygen chamber for a month to recover from the previous twenty-four hours. Did we agree to go to Brazil last night?

  ‘Where’s the Blue Brick Bar?’

  ‘I’ll send you a link. It’s banging. You’ll love it.’

  I hope banging means it’s cheap, quiet, and has many comfy seats. I know from experience now is not the time to think about anything new. Mind numbing television and the hair of the dog are what I need. A movie I’ve seen a hundred times would be perfect. She rubs her head searching for her bra. I have a flashback of seeing it downstairs.

  She shrugs and pulls her top on without it. ‘No worries. Bring it Saturday.’

  She looks in the mirror next to me. Last night the difference was twenty years. This morning we are two species separated by generations of evolution. I’m the one which sank back into the mud. There are scratches on my chest too, like I’ve been in a bar brawl. I can’t recall if Charlotte did them or I received them elsewhere.

  ‘Come and wave me off, point me towards public transport, and I’ll get out of your way.’

  I find my boxers, but nothing else. So, grabbing a T-shirt from the pile on the landing, I pull it on and follow her down the stairs.

  Next to the door she creases up. My T-shirt fits like a second skin. It’s bright pink and says, ‘Tonigh
t’s forecast, 100% prosecco’. She kisses me on the lips, squeezes my cheeks, and, as she places her fingers on the handle, the doorbell rings.

  I pray to a God that’s never loved me. Please, let it be anyone but the police or Olivia.

  Of course, it’s both of them. I expect to hear a booming laugh from the heavens. The first face I see is Olivia’s. Perfect. The yawning door reveals a pair of serious faces above suits. It’s the female one of these who talks. She frowns at my T-shirt as she does so.

  ‘I’m DI Jordan. We’re doing door-to-door enquiries. Have you seen anything unusual around these parts? Suspicious people, that sort of thing.’

  My pickled brain is unable to perform. I can only grin like a fool. I glance at Olivia as I talk.

  ‘Nope. I love it here.’

  ‘How about your daughter?’

  Charlotte bursts out laughing, and winks at me.

  ‘No, sorry, nothing. See you, Dad.’

  She bounces out of sight. Olivia scowls.

  ‘She came over to get a travel book.’

  I’ve never learnt that it’s sometimes best to keep your mouth shut. They aren’t detectives for nothing, and immediately pick up on the tension.

  DI Jordan smirks at me and shakes her head. The male suit repeats my words. ‘She came over to get a travel book?’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  Bailey chooses that moment to join us with a red bra in his mouth.

  Chapter 45

  Olivia

  The sound of the police laughing stops as they knock on the next house’s door. I’m sad and angry, but do I have any right to be? Dan and I stare at each other as if we’ve never met.

  ‘Are you going to invite me in?’

  I think he’d rather work in an old people’s home for a year, but he steps back to let me through. God knows what that girl’s done to him, but he looks drained. I follow him into the kitchen and watch him hastily shove discarded clothes into a cupboard. How lovely. We can talk where it looks like he’s been doing the dirty deed. In my house!