The Left Series (Book 4): Left In The Cold

by Christian Fletcher

  “Let me help you up, sweetheart,” Maddie said and took hold of my right elbow as my arm was crossed over my torso.

  All I could muster was a grunt in reply. I spat a grisly lump off my lips and tasted blood in my mouth. I glanced at Mrs McMahon’s corpse and saw her head had completely exploded under the impact of the shotgun blast. A gory stump of spinal cord protruded from the back of the torso and the lower part of the jaw bone remained intact, still attached to the neck. Pieces of skull and brain and blood spatters covered the wall, countertop and floor around me. I was also drenched in the remains of Mrs McMahon’s shattered head. The thought made me physically retch and I leaned forward to spew out a belly full of hot stomach bile. The process of throwing up caused my shoulder pain to remind me it was still there with renewed eagerness. I felt incredibly weak and my head thumped as though a bunch of construction workers were building a bridge between the inside of my temples. The dying option would have been far simpler.

  “Aw, you poor baby,” Maddie cooed, as though I was a toddler who’d fallen out of their stroller. “We need to get you cleaned up. I’ll take you to the washroom.”

  I frantically shook my head, making the pain lurch through my body again. “I don’t want to go in there,” I mumbled, fighting to hold on to consciousness. Every time Maddie took somebody into the washroom, they ended up as sliced and diced as a chicken in a high-class restaurant. I tried shrugging off her grip but I didn’t possess the strength to get her off.

  “Oh, come on,” Maddie groaned. “Don’t be shy, I won’t bite. I’m not a zombie.” She giggled in a high pitched tone like a school girl and led me slowly towards the doorway. I was too weak and disorientated to resist. “Don’t fret, pet. That nasty old Mrs McMahon can’t hurt you anymore. I blasted the old bastard’s head off with the shotgun.” She glanced back to the corpse behind us. “I never liked that snooty old cow anyway.”

  We shuffled past Jimmy, who cowered against the wall, while slumped on the floor. He whimpered and covered his head with his arms when Maddie looked down at him. The poor kid was really spooked by her presence and he genuinely looked petrified.

  The flashlight beam shone directly against the back of mine and Maddie’s heads and we both inwardly turned into the light, blinking against the glare.

  “Put the shotgun down and leave Brett alone, you mental bitch,” the voice behind the light commanded.

  I gasped when the flashlight beam lowered slightly and I saw Chloe holding my M-9 handgun and pointed it directly at Maddie. I sincerely hoped Chloe had the balls to carry out what she’d started.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Maddie still had the shotgun tucked under her arm but raised it slightly so the barrels pressed against my stomach. I grunted under the strain of the gun metal depressing into my guts.

  “Put the gun down, Maddie,” Chloe demanded. “I’m not going to tell you again.”

  “Shut up, you stupid little girl,” Maddie hissed back. “You just want him for yourself, don’t you? Well, I’ve just saved his life and he’s mine. I’d rather kill him now than let you have him, you frigid little bitch.” Her voice rose in volume as she spat out every word.

  “Brett has a girlfriend, Maddie,” Chloe countered. “He’s with Cordoba. Why can’t you understand that?”

  “He doesn’t really like her,” Maddie roared. “It’s nothing serious, he already told me that. Tell her, Brett.”

  She glanced at me with a steely glare, as if I was going to concur with her. It was true, I had told her me and Cordoba weren’t currently planning a white wedding and spending the rest of our lives together but I wasn’t exactly going to elope with Maddie either. I used my unfortunate predicament to my advantage to deflect the awkward situation.

  “Girls, please…I’ve just been stabbed and I’m bleeding all over the place,” I groaned. “Can I please just sit down before I fall down?”

  “We need to patch him up,” Maddie said, with a little more clarity to her tone. “We’re going to back up into the dining room where he can sit at the table.”

  “Okay, but remember I’ve still got this gun pointed at you,” Chloe said.

  I had to hand it to Chloe. She had managed to compose herself really quickly and wasn’t showing any signs of backing down against Maddie.

  We stumbled slowly backwards. Maddie still held onto my elbow and guided me through the kitchen doors into the dining room, with the shotgun still pointed at my stomach all the while. Chloe plodded forward at the same pace, never quivering or showing any sign of weakness as she aimed my handgun at Maddie. Jimmy launched himself to his feet when Chloe drew level with him and we all shuffled into the dining room.

  “I need to sit down, Maddie,” I gasped, as we stood next to the table in a kind of stand-off. My legs shook at the knees and the clear sight of blood flooding down the front of my jacket made me feel nauseous.

  She guided me to the table and perched on a seat, then pulled me down onto the chair beside her so I was between her and Chloe. We sat sideways on in the chairs and Maddie pressed the shotgun barrels into the small of my back. One minute she was saving my life from the crazed attack by Mrs McMahon and proclaiming I was her heart’s desire and now she was holding me as a kind of hostage. I guessed passion was a strange thing.

  To her credit, Chloe circled wide across the room, rounding behind me so she could still cover Maddie with the handgun. Jimmy stared intently at my wounded shoulder, breathing deeply and constantly rubbing his hand over his face. He still looked shaky but seemed to be attempting to pull himself together.

  “Listen, guys. Yer man is in a real bad way, right now,” Jimmy said, nodding at me. “I learned a wee bit of first aid when I was in the big house. I reckon I should have a crack at stopping that bleeding. Besides, he’s pissing the red stuff all over the floor.”

  I nearly sniggered but knew the pain would be too much to cope with. Jimmy pronounced ‘floor’ as ‘flur.’ I loved this guy’s accent.

  Chloe gazed at Maddie for approval.

  “Go for it,” Maddie muttered.

  Jimmy opened my jacket and shirt carefully but I still winced in pain. My clothing was caked in blood and some of the material was stuck inside the gash in my flesh. Jimmy took a clean napkin from the table and wiped away the excess blood around the wound.

  “Jesus, yah really ghat chibbed thur, big man, eh? Tha’ steaky plug musbe loupin,” he muttered, as he studied the gash.

  I had to admit I didn’t understand a word he’d said. I grabbed a napkin and wiped the blood and brain matter off my face. Jimmy pulled the pieces of material from the slash, causing me to smart in pain once more.

  “Yah need some antiseptic or it’ll turn manky,” he said, moving to the drinks cabinet beside the table. “I have nae’ got a first aid kit on me so we’re going tae have tae improvise a wee bit here.” He took a bottle of Scotch from the cabinet and unscrewed the top.

  I knew what was coming but under the current state of affairs, the inevitable was unavoidable. Jimmy soaked another clean napkin in the whisky then wiped my wound. The alcohol stung like a bitch and I groaned and gritted my teeth against the pain. He even splashed a little more Scotch from the bottle straight onto slash, first on my front and then on my back.

  “Give me the bottle, Jimmy,” I croaked.

  He looked slightly confused but complied. I took three long swigs, nearly downing the remainder of the bottle. I coughed and retched at the burn but I wanted to feel slightly intoxicated to numb the pain.

  “Yah’ll be right steamin’ if yah carry on like tha,’ byraway,” Jimmy said.

  I could already feel the Scotch working its magic healing properties. My guts felt warm, my headache vanished. For a few wonderful seconds I forgot my shoulder had been skewered like a Shish kebab and Maddie held a shotgun against my spine.

  Jimmy tore a strip off the table cloth, padded my wound with more napkins at the front and rear of my shoulder. Then he tied the strip under my arm to keep the
napkin padding in place. I winced as he tightened the knot and took another slug of Scotch when he was done.

  “That should keep the wound from smarting for a wee while,” he said.

  “Thanks, Jimmy,” I muttered, nodding my head in approval. “That feels much better. You did a good job there.”

  He looked suitably pleased with himself and his first aid skills.

  “One question,” I said.

  “Fire away.”

  “What is a Ned?”

  Jimmy sniggered slightly. “A Ned is like what you’d probably call a bum in America.”

  “Like a tramp?”

  “Nae, no’ like a diddy. The English call them chavs.”

  I shook my head. I was still none the wiser but fascinated all the same. “I only lived in England for a few years, a very long time ago. I didn’t keep up with the terminology.”

  “You’d probably term Neds as people who live in trailer parks, Brett,” Maddie hissed behind me. “Now, this is all very cozy, discussing cultural differences but we can’t sit here all night pointing guns at each other. Now your new pal has patched you up, are you coming with me, Brett? Or are you staying with Sugar Tits here?” She flashed Chloe a reproachful glare.

  I was stuck. If I went with Maddie to the washroom, I’d end up like Janet Leigh in the movie, Psycho but if I said I was staying with Chloe and Jimmy, she’d blow me in half with the shotgun.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  I took another swig of Scotch, playing for time, trying to eat up a few more seconds in the hope that some miracle was going to happen. Maybe Maddie wouldn’t kill me in the shower. After all, I hadn’t spurned her yet. I could tell the others I was staying with her. Then sneak out of the castle after they’d gone and catch them up. We’d laugh about what a ruse it all was and what a lucky escape I’d had. I could see us all, arm in arm skipping over the snowy Scottish landscape as squirrels and lambs crossed our path, just like a jolly TV commercial.

  As I lowered the whisky bottle, I caught sight of my reflection in the glass and malt colored liquid. I didn’t know if it was the effects of the booze, but my reflection wasn’t me. It was my alternative self leering back at me from the side of the bottle. He wore a black top hat and his face was whitened. He also had a stenciled black moustache, matching eyebrows and blackened eyes. He/I looked like a Victorian ringmaster from a circus.

  “Roll up, roll up, ladies and gentlemen to view the latest episode of the hit disaster show of Brett Wilde’s life. Never a dull moment with this boy, oh no! Our latest installment sees our intrepid hero in another dilemma, ladies and gentlemen. He has two lovely women fighting over him and neither of them are his girlfriend. How about that for showbiz?”

  “Ah, shit,” I muttered. “It’s happening again.”

  “Will the dashing Mr Wilde choose to go with the gorgeous, murdering psychopath, Maddie, or opt to stay with the luscious Chloe? Either way, he and they will all be screwed in more ways than one.”

  I heard a peal of fake laughter and a rapturous round of applause. I glanced up and everybody else watched me in silence, staring into the bottle.

  “I’m waiting for an answer, Brett,” Maddie said, tapping the back of my chair impatiently with her foot.

  I shook my head to clear my mind of the vision of my own face and placed the whisky bottle on the table. I had no choice; I’d have to go to the washrooms with Maddie.

  “Okay,” I said, pushing myself up from the chair. “Let’s go.” I glanced at Jimmy and Chloe in turn. “Get the water for Smith. He needs it. You can tell the others what’s happened down here.”

  “Yeah, tell that Cordoba bitch that Brett doesn’t want to see her anymore,” Maddie said, flashing a smug grin at Chloe. “He’s with me now.” She stood up behind me but still trained the shotgun at my back.

  Chloe and Jimmy both looked worried and backed away towards the kitchen door. Chloe still kept my M-9 pointed at Maddie. Life for her was going to be short and unbearable if she stayed in the castle, now that she’d pissed Maddie off.

  “Get the water and stay with the others,” I muttered.

  Chloe and Jimmy nodded slightly and we began to back away from each other. I noticed a tear running down Chloe’s cheek.

  “I’m sorry, Brett,” she whispered. “I should have…”

  I didn’t hear Chloe’s last words.

  A burst of semi-automatic rifle fire ripped through the dining area. Whoever was doing the shooting wasn’t a particularly good shot. Rounds sprayed all around us, the wine bottles and glasses, plates and dishes exploded into small chips, sending a shower of broken glass and ceramic through the air. Chloe and Jimmy disappeared from my view amidst the hail of debris flying around.

  Maddie roughly pushed me from behind and I fell face first onto the floor. The pain erupted in my shoulder once more and I screamed in agony. She dived onto the ground next to me, still clutching the shotgun. The firing ceased for a couple of seconds, as I guessed the shooter was reloading. Another burst of gunfire ensued, with the rounds whizzing over mine and Maddie’s heads. A few rounds ricocheted off the stone walls and some zipped into the fireplace, sending a cloud of glowing hot embers showering into the room.

  The gunfire ceased a second time and I listened to the sounds of the broken plates and glasses that were left on the table tinkling to the floor. The stench of cordite, wood smoke and fire embers burned in my nostrils as I lay still on the ground, trying to block out the pain in my shoulder. I glanced to my right and saw Maddie staring straight at me.

  “Are you all right?” she whispered.

  I nodded, wondering why she was so concerned about my welfare after holding a shotgun to my spine for the last twenty minutes or so. Maddie rolled onto her back, nudging my injured shoulder as she did so. I gritted my teeth, trying not to cry out as the pain erupted through my left side.

  “Sorry,” she hissed.

  “Maddie? Are you okay over there?” a deep voice boomed from the stairway.

  “Aye, I’m all right, Davie,” she yelled back. “What the hell was all that shooting about?”

  Maddie sat up and became more visibly relaxed. I struggled to twist around but I wanted to see what the hell was going on. Davie had nudged himself against the wall at the top of the staircase and had fired from that position. He sauntered into the dining area with the M-16 held into his shoulder. Mo appeared from the passageway, which led to the recreation room. He held his rifle at his hip and a smug expression crossed his weasel face. The bastards had been firing into the room from different positions without aiming properly.

  “We saw Chloe was holding a gun at you and figured you needed a little help.” He looked down at me. “What happened to this wee shite? He attack you, did he?” Davie prodded me with his boot.

  “Nae, he’s okay,” Maddie said, rising to her feet. “Just that wee girl got ideas above her station.”

  I was worried for Chloe and Jimmy. I still couldn’t see or hear them as they were still out of my viewpoint. Mo stood where I had last seen them positioned and he was glancing down at something with a smirk across his face.

  “Help me up,” I gasped, holding out my good arm.

  Davie and Maddie both hauled me to my feet. I staggered but remained standing. Davie pointed the M-16 barrel at my guts as I wobbled, trying to steady myself. The combination of blood loss and booze were taking their toll. I stumbled around the side of the table towards where Mo stood. My heart sank when I saw the blood soaked body laying on the carpet.

  “Ah, no,” I groaned, as I gazed at Chloe’s sprawled, prone body. Her eyes remained open and her arms and legs looked as though she was attempting to run while still on the ground. Several gunshot wounds had pierced her stomach and abdomen. Blood pooled beneath her and spread across the front of her white dress.

  “You didn’t have to shoot her,” I bellowed.

  “Aye, shame she had to go,” Davie sniffed. “She was a right little cracker, that one. But she’d turned traitor. We
can’t allow that to happen in here. You guys killed Trevor, Rory and Joan. An eye for an eye. Dog eat dog.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” I seethed, taking a step closer to Davie and glaring into his face. Davie raised the rifle and pointed it at my chest as I approached him.

  “You better stay back, pal,” he warned.

  “Rory killed Joan and we didn’t kill Trevor it was…” I was about to tell them Jimmy stabbed Trevor in retribution for all the abuse he was dishing out but stopped myself in time.

  I suddenly wondered where Jimmy was. His body wasn’t in the immediate vicinity and there were no blood trails around the table. I noticed my M-9 handgun that Chloe was holding was also gone.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “What is it with you guys?” Davie asked me. “Did you come into the castle and want to take it over so you started murdering us all, one by one?”

  I shook my head. “You got this situation all wrong,” I sighed.

  “We knew what you were doing, so we took your guns from your rooms,” Mo chipped in. “You can’t outsmart us, eh, Davie?”

  I turned to look at Mo and grew angrier at the stupid, smug look on his face. “You just shot an innocent girl who was trying to protect me,” I spat.

  “Aye,” Mo said, nodding. “She was a traitor, like Davie said.”

  Mo obviously hung on Davie’s every word. The guy was a total asshole. My headache returned with a vengeance, probably brought on by the anger pulsing through me. What a waste of a life. Chloe was a good person, concerned about other people’s welfare and now she’d been mercilessly gunned down by two brutal thugs.

  My head spun and I felt giddy. I gripped the edge of the dining table to keep myself from falling down. My hand brushed against the stem of a broken wine glass with a extremely jagged point at the tip. I glanced around and nobody saw me swipe the glass stem from the table. A crude plan formed in my mind.

  I turned back to Davie. “We didn’t start all this, you did. Why did you lock those girls in the cellar?”