When Darkness Falls, Book 2

by Ryan Casey

  “We have to go take a look. We have to—”

  “Oh there’ll be no need for that,” a voice said, right behind her.

  She spun around.

  And when she saw him, Sarah wasn’t sure what to think.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  I walked inside the camp, Paul by my side, and I saw the heads turning and looking at me.

  I knew whatever happened, this conflict was coming to an end. Soon.

  The darkness was growing thicker and more intense. The rain had started to fall heavily once again. I could feel the ground beneath my feet slushing as I waded through it, getting closer to the man who had killed my son, getting closer to the truth. And I felt guilty, for sure. Guilty that I’d left my friends behind to go on this mission. Guilty that I’d left my wife to lead them.

  But at the same time, I couldn’t shake that urge for vengeance. The urge to just look my son’s killer in the eye.

  Whatever I did next… I didn’t know.

  But I was close to finding out.

  I saw Jon’s people looking at me as I walked right through his campsite. Some of them were armed with the guns that I’d dropped. It was like they were prepared for me, waiting for me. Paul was pointing towards a caravan right at the back of the camp. Initially, I thought he was leading me there. But instead it looked like he was diverting. Making a turn for somewhere else.

  A small cabin.

  It was barely big enough to fit inside. Looked like one of those portaloos you shit in when you’re at a festival. I remembered my struggle to find one that wasn’t smeared with excrement back when I’d gone to the Kendal Calling festival with Sarah and Bobby. It’d been a great weekend. A weekend I’d never forget.

  And a weekend that I’d never have again…

  I swallowed a lump in my throat, pushing away those dark thoughts once again.

  I couldn’t let them control me.

  I couldn’t let them suffocate me.

  The closer I got to this cabin, the more my concern grew. I’d seen enough from Jon to know that he was a rational man. An organised man. And he had me outnumbered and surrounded, no doubt about that.

  But there was a reason he was leading me through here. There had to be.

  Paul stopped, right by the cabin. I took this as my cue to stop too.

  And as I stood there in the silence, hearing nothing but the falling rain, I waited for something—anything—to happen.

  “It’s not too different, you know. What happened to you and me.”

  The voice seemed like it came from nowhere.

  Then I saw movement.

  Movement, in the darkness, right beside the cabin.

  Jon walked from beside it. He had a waterproof coat on, but didn’t have the hood up, his hair long and soaked.

  He walked up to me, slight smile on his face. Made me hate the bastard even more.

  He stopped right in front of me. And then he was so close that I could reach out. Punch him. I could stuff my thumbs into his eyes and gouge them out for what he’d done to me, what he’d taken away from me.

  “Hi,” he said. “I wish I could say it’s nice to finally meet. But—”

  I stepped forward. And for a second, just a split second, I felt like I could choke him to death.

  But then I gritted my teeth together. I held my breath, tensed my jaw.

  And then I stepped back.

  I had to keep my cool.

  I had to play this right.

  Jon’s smile seemed to widen then. It was then that I realised that no matter what he said about us being “similar,” he was wrong. Because he was enjoying this. Maybe not all of it, but a part of it at least. And that made us different. That set us apart.

  “I lost someone too,” he said.

  “I don’t give a shit about what you—”

  “My boy,” he said. “Just like you did. My poor boy, Charlie. He… he was so innocent, you know? Such a good kid. Kept me good, in a way. Whenever I felt like I was getting mad… I’d just think of him and everything would seem okay again. Whenever I felt like I could damned explode with rage at something… he’d always be there to keep me sane.”

  He looked away. Kept on pacing around in front of me.

  “What happened to your son was an accident. And it wasn’t something that I wanted. It’s not something I’d ever want.”

  “I don’t care about what you want. I just want to know who killed him. Which of your people killed him. And I want to look them in the eye.”

  Jon sighed. He tilted his head to one side. “After my wife Julie was killed, my son was raped in front of me. He was strangled and looked into my eyes as he died. And all I could think about was… was that look of confusion. That look of desperation. Because he didn’t understand what was happening to him, in those final moments. He didn’t understand why it was happening, or why I couldn’t do a thing to help.”

  I saw tears rolling down Jon’s cheeks. He wiped them away with his sleeve, and looked back at his cabin.

  “The men who did it. It was just one of them. The others, I could see they weren’t into it. But… but I managed to hunt down the guy who’d done it. I killed him. But it was too quick. It was too quick and I…”

  “Felt like you needed someone else to punish.”

  Jon looked into my eyes and nodded. “See. Maybe we aren’t so different.”

  I didn’t honour that with a reply.

  “The thing is, Alex… this all started because you killed one of our people.”

  “You’d exiled him.”

  “He was still one of our people. And things… they went from there. Now, I’m happy to say your family isn’t with us any longer. Your friends aren’t with us. And that should give you great peace. But we still have a chance to resolve our differences. An opportunity to move on, if you will.”

  He walked over to the cabin. I tensed my fists, clung onto my knife.

  When he opened the cabin door, I saw the flies.

  There was a smell in there. A stench unlike anything I’d smelled before.

  Except I had.

  I knew what it was.

  A dead body.

  “This was Eddie. One of the people who were responsible for what happened to my boy,” he said. “One of the people who left me to watch him die right before me.”

  I couldn’t see anything other than flies buzzing, and I could smell the stench of blood and death.

  “And now you’ve got a chance for your own revenge.”

  He turned around. But he wasn’t looking at me.

  He was looking behind me.

  I looked behind me.

  Paul was standing there.

  His eyes were wide. He had big bags underneath them. Mousy blond hair.

  Then it clicked.

  It clicked, and I understood.

  Some of Jon’s men came over to Paul, grabbed him by his arms.

  “No,” he said, trying to struggle free. “No, please—”

  “This is the man who killed your son,” Jon said, as Paul was dragged towards the cabin.

  “I didn’t—I didn’t mean—” A gag covered his mouth. He kept on struggling, but to no avail, as the mouth of the cabin got closer for him.

  “This is the man who ended your son’s life. Who disobeyed our orders. And who crossed the line one too many times.”

  Paul continued to cry out from behind his gag as the men put him right in front of the cabin.

  Jon walked over to me. He put a hand on my shoulder, then looked down at the knife in my hand. “You do what you need to with him. And then we’ll discuss the next step. Let’s end this madness, once and for all.”

  He patted my shoulder, then walked away.

  The two men threw Paul into the cabin.

  And as I walked over to the door, I looked down at Paul as he sat there in the rotting remains of a corpse, fear in his eyes.

  The killer of my son.

  The man who’d taken Bobby’s life.

  And
a knife in my hand.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  I looked into Paul’s eyes and I felt the rage burning through my body.

  It was quiet outside. Quiet but for the falling rain, for the wind pummelling against the side of the cabin. I could smell the rot. It wasn’t getting any more bearable, that was for certain. But I was finding a way to push through it. I was finding a way to be present with it.

  Mostly because I knew that the man who had killed my boy was sitting right in the mess of the corpse.

  I looked at him. Looked at the tears streaming down his cheeks. Looked at that gag, applied so messily to his mouth. He was whimpering, making sounds that didn’t sound human—more like an animal that knew it’d misbehaved.

  And I didn’t know what to feel about those sounds. I didn’t know what to feel about any of this.

  All I knew was that this was the man. I was looking him in the eyes.

  And I had an opportunity to put everything right.

  I wanted to pull his gag away, as I held onto the knife. I wanted to give him a chance to defend himself, only to take his hope away right at the very last minute.

  But at the same time, I didn’t want to remove his gag, either. Because removing his gag was giving him a chance to speak. And I wasn’t sure if I gave this man a chance to speak that I’d like what he had to say.

  I had to keep on believing that he was the monster I’d been telling myself he was.

  I had to keep on believing that he was… less than human, somehow.

  Only that way could I make sure he duly suffered for what he’d done.

  Because that was what he deserved. To suffer.

  No matter what excuses he had.

  No matter what reasons he gave.

  And no matter how much he tried to apologise.

  He had to suffer.

  “He was only nine, you know?” I said. “And… and he was unlike any other nine-year-old I’d ever known. He was kind. He was thoughtful. He was… he was older than his years. And you took him from me. You took him from me.”

  Paul shook his head. He let out another whimper. I could tell that he knew. That he was facing up to what was going to happen to him. And that he wanted me to remove that gag.

  But I couldn’t.

  I just couldn’t.

  “It would’ve been his tenth birthday this year. He was looking forward to it so much. The whole idea of turning ten. Of being in double figures. You’ve no idea how excited he was about that.”

  More mumbling. More head-shaking.

  I looked at the knife in my hand. I felt a few flies buzzing around me, landing on me.

  “But it’s okay now,” I said. “It’s okay because now there’s a chance to change things. Now there’s a chance to put things right.”

  I looked up at him, and I knew that he knew what I was referring to.

  I moved towards him with the knife. Part of me just wanted to end it. To get it done with. But another part of me wanted to make it last. Because it’d last for me. I’d have to spend a lifetime of pain without my son.

  “Whatever happens. Just know you did this. You did this.”

  I moved the knife to his neck.

  He let out a cry then. And it reminded me of something. Took me right back to when I was younger, and when I’d let out a similar cry on one of those dark days I’d been through.

  And that cry sparked something inside me. It awoke something within.

  This man was human.

  He was a person.

  And he deserved his opportunity to speak.

  I lowered the knife, my breathing heavy. I heard Paul whimper with relief, sweat pooling down his forehead.

  And then I pulled the gag away from his mouth.

  “Please,” he said. “Please.”

  “Shut up,” I said, pressing the knife back to his neck.

  He looked me in the eyes. He looked like he was going to carry on speaking. Then he didn’t. He stopped, adhering to what I’d asked of him.

  “You’re going to listen when I talk. And when I ask you a question, you’re going to answer, okay?”

  Paul nodded.

  “I asked you a question. Okay?”

  “Okay. Okay. Just—”

  “Okay. Now I want you to walk me through it. I want you to tell me exactly what happened to… to Bobby. Because that was his name. That was the name of the boy you took away from me. I want you to tell me what you did to him.”

  He shook his head, like it was all catching up on him, all getting too much.

  “Answer,” I said, pushing the knife further.

  He kept on shaking his head.

  I pressed harder. “Answer!”

  “It shouldn’t have happened,” he said.

  I stopped. Kept the same amount of pressure there.

  “It… it shouldn’t have happened and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “I… Jon told us to approach. To try and find an alternate way inside. Now I—I’m new to the group and I was scared. I was just scared.”

  “You’re still not answering my question.”

  “I went through the window. Climbed on the roof. Cut my hand on my way up, which caused some of the—the blood. And then I dropped on in. And I… I didn’t realise. I swear I didn’t realise.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Didn’t realise what?”

  “The boy,” he said.

  “Bobby. His name was Bobby.”

  “Bobby. He… he was right there when I landed in the room. I didn’t know he was going to be there. But he—I landed on him, heard him crack his head and I heard him gasping and I was scared.”

  Slowly, my image of what had gone down started to disintegrate. This didn’t add up with how I thought it had happened.

  “He—he was struggling. Struggling to breathe. But he sounded like he was going to scream and I guess I just… I didn’t want to fail. Because I was on thin ice already, you know? I was on thin ice. So I held his mouth. I covered it and… Oh God I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  As I listened to Paul’s words, something wasn’t adding up. This wasn’t the violent story I was imagining. It wasn’t the ruthless murder that I’d been anticipating hearing about; that I’d been bracing myself for.

  It was something else entirely.

  “But the blood,” I said. It was all I could say.

  “I hit him hard when I fell. So hard that I knocked him off the bed. And he—he banged his head. He banged it hard. And at that point I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know.”

  I still couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Still couldn’t accept that this was how it had gone down.

  I could feel my will for vengeance changing. Not disintegrating, not going away in any way. Just… changing.

  “I wish I could take it back. I wish I could change things. But I can’t, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never meant for what happened. I never meant it. Please.”

  I looked Paul in his eyes and I wanted to get my revenge.

  I could understand what Jon was talking about when he spoke of that urge not going away when you finally got it on the person who had hurt you. I knew what he was talking about, right away. Because I felt that now too. I felt it.

  “I’m not asking for forgiveness,” Paul said. “I’ll never accept it. I’m not even asking you to believe me because I know how strong vengeance can be. I’m just asking you to listen to what I’m saying. To hear me. Please.”

  I looked into Paul’s eyes. Looked at the tears rolling down their puffy bags underneath.

  Then I looked down at the knife in my hand.

  I wanted to do it.

  I wanted to finish him.

  I wanted to end everything.

  But then something else happened.

  I pressed myself right up to him, blade in hand. I pressed right up close, the knife at his chest, and I looked into his eyes.

  “I’ll never forgive you,” I said, my li
ps shaking, my entire body quivering. “I’ll never, ever forgive you for what you’ve done.”

  Then I sliced away the ties around his wrists.

  I put the knife in his hand.

  “But there is something you can do for me.”

  I leaned in. And with all the restraint I had to resist following my vengeful urges, I whispered in Paul’s ear. I whispered the words that I knew would change things. That would get me what I wanted.

  Then I stood up.

  “Thank you,” Paul said.

  I stood by the cabin door. Images of Bobby filled my mind. Images that made me want to change my mind. That made me want to turn around and change my mind after all, and carry out what I wanted to do.

  But I didn’t.

  Instead I just stood there, looking at the door, feeling the rage flow through my body.

  “Don’t thank me,” I said. “Not until you’ve done it. Only then. Only then.”

  I fought against every urge in my body and I opened the cabin door.

  I walked out into the rain, blood from the cabin walls on my hands.

  Then I walked past Jon’s people. Past Jon himself. Past them all.

  Jon looked at me, gun in hand, as I went to leave. I thought he might try to stop me. But instead, he just stood there, smiling.

  “Now you understand, don’t you?” he said. “Now you realise that it never goes away. Even when you’ve done it, it never goes away.”

  I looked into his eyes. Stared right into them, just for a few seconds.

  And then I nodded. I didn’t say a word, I just nodded.

  I walked past Jon, out of the caravan site gates, and out into the darkness.

  And when I was outside, I fell to my knees and I cried.

  I was going back to my family.

  I was going back to my people.

  I was going back.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Jon stood by the door of his cabin and he couldn’t deny a strange sense of satisfaction as he prepared to walk inside.

  It was late at night. He didn’t know the time exactly. He didn’t need to. Tonight was different. Tonight was the start of something. Something entirely new.

  A new approach.

  He listened to the rain hit the roof of the cabin, the silence inside it, and he remembered how he used to stand here and listen to Eddie whimper for hours on end. He remembered the temporary relief it gave him. The way it made him feel better, for just a short time. But how he could never quite satisfy that fix. How for every whimper, there was a long period of silence… a silence that needed filling by another whimper.