by Park, J. R.
The Special Constable wiped Knight’s blood from her splattered brow as she watched his head slump to the side, lifelessly dangling from his neck.
‘Got you, you fucker,’ she yelled at the corpse, before letting the room fall into silence.
The air felt strangely thinner, the darkness free of the invisible terrors that had filled its crowded space. The only sound was that of Aimee, panting as she caught her breath.
The calm was fleeting, broken by the grotesque twisting of limbs, as slowly Knight’s arms and legs began to contort; curling round at strange, jagged angles, like the legs of a dead spider. Forrest jumped back and watched as the corpse shrivelled and constricted in a chorus of snapping bone. Its skin stretched and pulled as the movements beneath the flesh flexed causing Knight’s features to form broken shapes. Slowly the corpse writhed around the chair legs it was impaled on, bending and twisting, until eventually its limbs fell still, knotted and broken, leaving a sight so foul and unnatural it could no longer be described as human.
Shocked by the sight the Special constable edged backwards, feeling around the walls until she found the stairwell and made her way back to the ground floor. Reaching the top step, Aimee tried wiping his blood from her face, but her attempts resulted in smearing it further round her skin like some kind of barbaric war paint.
The craziness that took over Knight’s corpse played on her mind, but it did nothing to dampen the fire of determination that burned in her stomach. Her battle in the dark with the crazed Knight had proved she was capable. Andy Osborne was right to have faith in her. Aimee was a cop, and a born fighter.
Making her way back outside, she squinted as her eyes adjusted to the daylight. The sun was hidden behind the overcast sky and although the day was darkening with the black clouds of a brooding storm, it was positively bright in comparison to the dark recesses of the blood filled basement she’d just emerged from.
Aimee had to get her brother and his friends to safety. She’d already broken her promise to PC Pritchard and done more than simply observe. There was no back up coming. And even if it did arrive, it would be too late.
Action needed to be taken urgently.
She needed a plan.
Crouching behind a large piece of sewage piping, yet to be laid, Aimee looked out over the construction site. At the centre of the large basin-like dip was the scene of the trade off, only it was empty.
Where had they gone?
Thunder rumbled overhead. It was getting louder. The storm was building; moving closer.
Her temple grew cold as the cool metal of a gun barrel was placed against her head.
Holding its broken chain delicately between her fingers, Kayleigh dangled her pendant in front of her eyes. Her crying had faded and her mind, as fragile as it felt, had calmed, pushing the emotional torment from the spotlight of her consciousness. Kayleigh knew the terrors were still there, she could feel the hole they had left in her thoughts, an impact crater so toxic she refused to fill it with anything else.
Cuddling her own legs in the front passenger seat of the police car she rested her head against her knees and watched the pendant gently spin. It looked like a silver drop, a precious teardrop, twisting as it fell from a light, summer breeze. Engraved across the liquid-like surface were intricate patterns that interlocked and double-backed, like a complex, confusing lattice. The smooth contours were sporadically broken by irregular, jagged spikes. The rise into these peaks seemed natural, as if the pendant had no other choice but to configure into its bizarre shape. Kayleigh smiled as she regarded the way it looked, its lines brought about a feeling of pleasure.
The chain had been snapped after it had been pulled from someone’s neck, and could no longer be worn, but that was no bother to the seventeen year old, she’d get another chain. She had so many of them at home, ill-gotten rewards from her shoplifting activates. Kayleigh felt no guilt about her history of petty crime. If the shopkeepers insisted on making it so easy then it was up to her to teach them a lesson.
But she’d been so stupid this morning, making a grab at an open display in Meredith’s the jewellers. It was a rushed snatch, nothing covert about it, and she certainly didn’t check to see the coast was clear, otherwise she would have certainly seen the two police officers walking their beat.
Her dream had played on her mind, muddled her thoughts, but it was more the meeting of Ollie, the desire to impress him, that had egged her on to act so impulsively. She’d hoped they’d meet up with him and Jake when Eleanor had said she could hang out with her and Laura this morning.
That had gone to plan. Everything else hadn’t.
The whole thing had been futile anyway. She’d dropped the necklace during the chase with the police and couldn’t have embarrassed herself further in the face of the man she’d sought to impress. The sound of the shopkeeper screaming after her whilst he flagged down the officers still made her cheeks burn with shame.
The pendant in her hands now, was a spoil of more mysterious events and had come from somewhere in the tussle outside the bank. They’d nearly given the police the slip, but turning a corner onto Market Street, they collided into the corporately dressed group with the briefcase. They must have been mistaken for muggers as the confusion descended quickly into a wave of panic, fists and gunshots.
A van driver, Ollie’s friend Sam, was waiting at the traffic lights on the same street and had called out to them. Her hands clawed at people, desperate to keep up and not be left behind as they all dived into his vehicle. It was then, as they sped off through the red light, she’d found the charm in the centre of her closed palm.
Kayleigh stared out the window of the police car and watched the angry clouds as they jostled for position overhead, creating a patchwork of blacks and greys. Their edges drifted on the wind, producing disturbing trails, like tendrils, that flailed around in the afternoon sky. The sun was slowly shrinking against the power of these dark, vapourous leviathans.
She watched the clouds twist and break, moving into new patterns against the influence of the wind. A flowing mane melted into creation as a cloud passed over one of the last few gaps of clear sky left in the celestial canopy. The mane was followed by an eye, then a nose, then a long, protruding horn. Kayleigh was momentarily mesmerised as a pair of rearing hooves broke free from the cloud, finally extinguishing the last rays of sunlight and casting unsettling darkness across the construction site and surrounding city.
The spectral unicorn snorted with fury as its eye glowed red, like the fire of a thousand burning grudges. It looked down at Kayleigh as the sky dissolved, evaporating into a void, eclipsed by the fiery orb that dominated the skyline. The gaze pulled at her soul, unravelling the binds that held her to this earthly plane. Her lungs scorched as the unblinking anger penetrated deeper, turning from fiery red to an all-consuming black and drowning her in flame.
Kayleigh screamed through fear and agony, breaking the vision and freeing the sky from the monstrous apparition.
She looked at the pendant in her hand. Its jagged edges suggested the shape of a mane, wild in the wind, leading to a great horn resting between two eyes.
‘Are you okay?’ PC Pritchard tapped on the window.
Kayleigh wound it down and tried to regain her composure as she looked at the Constable’s friendly face.
‘I’m fine, Officer,’ she forced a smile.
‘Please, call me Paul,’ he smiled back and held the radio to his ear. ‘I can’t tell if I’m getting through or not.’
Paul tried again, speaking over waves of feedback and static in an attempt to signal for help. He held the radio close as he listened hard, trying to pick out voices in the dirge; searching for a sign they’d been heard.
‘…fire reporte…medical…North street riot repor…lightning strikes o…’
Fragments of distress calls filtered through the interference, a barrage of voices littering the airwaves, each one with a desperate urgency in their tone.
‘…please
respond we need hel. . . armed response requi…’
As Kayleigh overheard the broken sentences rising and falling against the distortion, they momentarily sounded like the chanting of monks in prayer.
‘It’s chaos out there,’ PC Pritchard muttered to himself.
Looking down at the eavesdropping teenager, he clocked the worried expression that creased her face.
‘Don’t worry,’ he reassured her. ‘They’ll hear us real soon. Probably already have done and are on their way. Until then, how about we keep you safe. If you close the window I’ll lock the car. Without this key no one’s getting in.’
Kayleigh looked behind her to the back seat where Sergeant Byrne was still gently rocking, mouthing inaudible words whilst his eyes looked up at the ceiling.
‘Don’t worry about him,’ Paul clocked her concerned expression. ‘He can’t get through the grid. That partition is just like a cage.’
Kayleigh smiled back in response and as Paul jangled the key in front of his face, she pressed the control on the inside of the door. As the window closed he pressed the button on the key, locking the doors and making her sanctuary complete. Paul’s voice was muffled but still audible through the glass.
‘You see? No one’s getting in there. Even the windows are locked now,’ he said with another comforting smile. ‘I’ll keep watch out here, okay? I’ll stand guard and try the radio, all the while keeping my ear out for when the cavalry arrive.’
Paul walked a few metres away from the car, berating himself for letting Kayleigh hear those radio messages. Snippets of troubling scenarios from across the city had been steadily emerging through the white noise since he’d been wrestling to make contact. Even without the communication problems the police force would have been stretched, with them, well it was already pandemonium.
The concerned officer looked across the construction site. He was unable to see Forrest and thankful she had kept her surveillance covert. There was no need to take any rash action just yet, but how long did they really have?
PC Pritchard looked at the blackening sky and sighed, his hope for any help was fading fast.
Special Constable Forrest fell to the floor, her face slamming into the gravel and dried mud as she was thrown by her gun totting captor.
With the barrel of a Beretta handgun pointed at her head, Aimee had been marched back towards the entrance of the building she’d just left, where she was currently being exhibited like a trophy from a big game hunt. The hunter gave a little smirk of satisfaction, no doubt her expression of glee was much more telling behind her Jackie Ohh II Ray-Ban’s. She pushed the point from one of her high heeled shoes into Aimee’s back, forcing the Special Constable’s face further into the dirt. White teeth began to gleam behind thick red lips as her smirk widened into a smile.
‘Aimee!’ Jake called out as he watched his sister being humiliated in front of them all.
She lifted her face out of the dirt and scowled at her brother.
‘You’ve really fucked up this time, you little shit!’ she said, openly berating her brother. ‘Why did you run? Didn’t you see it was me?’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Jake’s voice quivered; his head hung in shame.
Cross lifted her foot from Aimee’s back, allowing her prisoner to straighten upright and kneel alongside their other captives.
Both Cross and Scullin had their guns trained on Aimee, Jake, Eleanor and Sam. Laura was beside them, her hands still tied and awkwardly carrying the briefcase. The Special Constable glanced over, her face screwing up with a mixture of disgust and anger as she clocked Sam’s mangled hand.
‘King, report,’ Scullin ordered as his colleague emerged from the gloom of the dilapidated building.
‘Knight is dead, sir,’ King replied in military fashion.
‘Sure is. So’s the other gorilla you sent to get me,’ Aimee spat in defiance.
‘But where’s the key?’ Scullin asked his subordinate, his calm tone sounded strained with impatience. ‘Knight and Duell had their duty, you do too. We need that second key.’
‘I have not been able to find it,’ King ground his teeth back and forth in anger, before snatching the briefcase from Laura’s hands and knocking her to the ground. ‘There was a corpse in one of the buildings,’ King continued with his report. ‘At least, bits of one. Knight had made quite a meal of the dissection. It was a male, that much I’m certain of.’
‘Ollie! Oh my god!’ Jake buried his face in his hands whilst the others turned white with the news of their friend’s demise.
‘I’m sorry, Jake,’ from afar, Aimee could do nothing to comfort him.
‘But no key amongst the mess,’ King concluded.
‘Then where is it?’ Scullin cast his gaze, inquisitively across the youths that stood before him, eyeing them thoughtfully for a moment in silence.
He turned to face his team. Cross and King looked at him expectantly.
‘Wasn’t there another girl?’
‘Yes sir,’ King shouted through the growing wind, ‘I believe there was.’
‘She’s the one,’ Scullin’s comment almost sounded like a question. ‘She must be the one. I know it’s somewhere close by. I can feel it. I can feel her. Somewhere in the wind.’
‘I did not locate her on my reconnaissance,’ King confirmed.
‘But she’s here. She’s close. These cretins are of no use to us now, we’ll hunt her down ourselves.’ He gestured towards the captives, ‘You may kill them at will.’
‘Quickly?’ Cross asked, with a tone of disappointment.
‘However you wish,’ Scullin casually remarked as he turned to walk back in the direction of the limousine.
Cross’s evil grin widened with a gleeful malice on hearing her leader’s command.
Jake closed his eyes as he felt King place a gun to the back of his head. Perhaps it was the cold touch of the steel barrel, or perhaps it was the anticipatory shock of what was to come that made his head grow heavy on his neck. A sudden numbness forced his thoughts to swim through a clouded consciousness.
A shot fired out causing his ears to ring with temporary tinnitus as he heard a thud on the ground next to him. Fearing for his friends, but powerless to help, he kept his eyelids sealed, awaiting his turn.
Shouts behind him erupted, and an unfamiliar voice cut through the din.
He opened his eyes, and as his vision cleared, he saw King nursing his own hand as it dripped with blood, almost black in the storm light.
Beside the wounded man, the briefcase lay on its side, metres from his feet, where he had released it in shock.
‘Drop your guns,’ the unfamiliar voice came again, clearer this time.
Jake followed the direction of sound to see a man in tan coloured chinos and a black roll-neck jumper holding a gun whose chamber was still emitting wisps of smoke. His thin moustache highlighted the scowl on his face as he surveyed the scene in front of him. Behind him stood two men whose bellies strained against their shirts, but their hulking biceps were evidence they were not strangers to the gym. They both gripped Uzi submachine guns and respectively held their aim on Scullin and Cross.
‘I said drop your fucking guns!’ the moustached man demanded. He nodded to the Uzis carried by his colleagues as he warned, ‘These bad boys throw out enough lead per second to tear you to pieces.’
Scullin eyed the weapons, considering his next move, but finally acquiesced, throwing his gun to the floor. Even he would not be able to shrug off the hail of bullets they were able to unleash.
Following their leader, King and Cross did the same and tossed their weapons to the ground.
The gunman allowed himself a satisfied smile as he watched his opponents comply with his command.
‘You thought you’d got away cleanly, huh? Not turning out to be your day,’ he continued. ‘You bastards stole something from us this morning. Grinch,’ he tilted his head so as to direct his voice towards his companions behind him, ‘keep those fuckers in your sights. If
anyone so much as twitches, smoke the lot of them. Barry, get the case.’
Sitting by the car, PC Pritchard reached into his pocket and pulled out a crushed packet of cigarettes. He placed one to his lips and savoured the moment as he lit the tip and took the first inhalation of much needed nicotine. It’d been a while since his last smoke, and he’d done well to cut down as much as he had, but a job like his was high stress, making it difficult to abstain completely.
Working as a cop he could always find a good excuse to light up.
Being unable to call for back up in the middle of a violent hostage situation when the rest of the city seemed to be going to shit as well seemed like as good excuse as any.
‘Who are you?’ Aimee asked the moustached man holding a Glock and barking orders.
He eyed her with a curious intensity as he smoothed his moustache with his index finger and thumb.
‘Who the fuck am I, princess?’ came the angry and hostile response. ‘I’m Jonathan Bones. I’m the man who woke up this morning thinking today was all my birthday’s rolled into one.’ His face reddened as his words flowed from his mouth. ‘I’m the man who after months of negotiation with some pain-in-the-ass mysterious stranger was going to be the owner of the most priceless and sought after object known to mankind.’ Bones’s voice strained under his anger, but still he spoke with an eloquence, ensuring each word was pronounced clearly, even if his speech had the subtly of a steamroller. ‘But now I find myself stood in this fucking dust bowl, and worrying if I’m gonna get my chinos splashed with blood.
‘Why do I find myself stood here?’ His question was rhetorical, leaving no pause for anyone to answer. ‘Because as I collect the combination to a safe deposit box, then head to the bank I’ve been told to go to in order to retrieve my treasure. My treasure, that I spent so long hunting for. That I spent so much of my own hard earned wealth on. As I pick it up from the safe deposit box of the city’s most secure bank, Mr Sunglasses and his fucked up friends somehow manage to walk in and pull a heist.’