by Park, J. R.
‘It’s time to put an end to this,’ Taal exclaimed as he stood over his wounded combatant.
A girl’s scream cut through the air.
Taal turned, distracted by the noise. Scullin thrust his hand forward, gripping Taal’s throat and squeezed.
Black dripped from his wounded eye and poured down his face. He spat the strange liquid as he spoke with a grin.
‘Yes. Yes it is.’
The strain on the dress had proven too much and tore away in Jake’s hands. Laura screamed as she felt herself fall.
Running to their aid, Aimee looked over the edge to see Jake grasping hold of his girlfriend’s arm. Her brother had leant forward in desperation and caught his lover, whilst at the same time finding another secure handhold with which to steady them both. Stretched and strained to his absolute limit, Jake was unable to turn, let alone find a way back up.
‘Hang on Jake, I’m coming,’ Aimee called out.
Taal would have to wait, Aimee thought as she climbed towards them.
Reaching out she took hold of her brother’s hand.
‘Thank you sis,’ he said as their fingers entwined.
‘We aren’t out of this yet,’ she warned. ‘Keep hold of Laura. Laura, when I pull, you kick your feet against the rock. Try and walk yourself up. Jake, you pull and do the same, okay?’
The pair listened to her instructions and slowly they began to drag themselves out of the hole.
Laura clambered to the top, scratched and filthy but smiling to be safe in her boyfriend’s arms.
A frail voice called out, making Aimee turn. Taal lay on the ground, his eyes milky white and bleeding.
‘Special Constable Forrest,’ he called out, weakly.
Panicked for the whereabouts of Scullin she scanned the landscape. Although badly wounded and leaving a trail of thick, almost black blood in his wake, she saw him staggering across the construction site, towards the briefcase.
‘Don’t you think you’re getting away from me, you fucker,’ she spat as she got to her feet and sprinted towards him. ‘Jake,’ she called back to her brother. ‘Get yourself and Laura up to the squad car and stay there. There’s a radio in the front. Call for back up. If it doesn’t work the first time, keep trying.’
Briefcases, keys, neither of these mattered to the Special Constable. What mattered to her was this man had been responsible for the deaths of many good people, and he was not getting away with it.
‘Not so fast, asshole,’ she shouted as she approached him, standing between him and the case. ‘You’ve got a lot to answer for. You’re under arrest.’
‘Ha ha ha,’ Scullin laughed her off. His voice burbled as he bled, but his injuries looked less than before, as if his wounds were already healing. He looked stronger, threatening once again. ‘Your laws do not concern me,’ his voice boomed.
‘Stay away from-’ Taal’s voice was too weak to carry over the thunder claps that erupted in the sky.
Rain began to fall in torrents as the storm finally broke, soaking them all within seconds. Aimee lunged forward, kicking Scullin in the place guaranteed to make any man drop. He was no exception. Gasping in pain, he fell to his knees.
Holding her hand flat she drove the base of her palm into the side of his neck. His skin felt like granite as she made contact, but despite the pain that shot up her arm, she was relieved to see him wince.
The ground around them was quickly sodden, turning the dusty landscape into a muddy bog. Its sudden slippery surface took Forrest by surprise, and as she blocked a swing by Scullin she lost her grip underfoot and fell.
Taking the advantage he rose to his feet and punched her in the stomach, then to the face. Aimee tried to stand, but another blow to the cheek sent her crashing back down. The pain surged through her body and her head span. She crawled around in the mud trying to find her balance and evade Scullin’s powerful assault, but a kick to the thigh stopped her escape and sent her writhing in agony.
Dragging her free from the mire, Scullin lifted her above his head.
‘You have bothered me for the last time,’ he growled.
Walking towards the briefcase he held the Special Constable aloft, crushing her between his hands. She screamed as she felt her left leg snap, the bone being unable to withstand the pressure exerted on it by the abnormally strong Scullin.
With each step he took closer to his goal he squeezed that much harder. Aimee screamed again as her right arm gave way, snapping at the forearm in his terrible grip.
She tried to fight, but the pain was too much, her stubborn resolve had, at last been destroyed. Scullin had beaten her.
Special Constable Aimee Forrest looked to the heavens and wondered if it was all true. When death laid its claim on her would she discover an afterlife? Would she meet with PC Osborne again? She prayed she would.
As he approached the briefcase, the material from Scullin’s jacket began to unthread. Holes ripped in the fragmenting fabric, revealing cuts that etched across his skin. He clenched his jaw as he watched the wounds appear, slicing into his arms and chest from some unseen force.
The Eolhx was at work once again.
Bearing the pain, he stopped for a moment and flexed his muscles, allowing the blood to pump faster from the growing gashes.
He threw Aimee to the ground and she screamed in agony as her flesh met with the same fate. Skin peeled from her body as she tried to crawl away from the enchanted circle. She slipped in the mud and fell face first, but clawed at the boggy earth, finding purchase and slowly pulled herself free. Feeling the assault abate as she reached safe ground, she turned to view her enemy.
A half smile spread across Scullin’s face as he watched his lacerations slowly begin to disappear.
‘Your tricks don’t work on me, old man,’ he called out to Taal. ‘You are weak and dying. Your incantations have lost their strength. They are fading.’ He laughed as a bloody slash opened across his cheek, only to seal back up again. ‘These pitiful attacks are no match to the speed with which I heal.’
The brutish figure bent down and took hold of the briefcase.
‘The Calling shall succeed,’ he roared into the storm. ‘The great ones matter little where the ceremony takes place. Here is as good as any. I even have my sacrifice,’ he glanced towards Aimee. ‘We shall welcome our first masters, and then you will understand what it truly means to fear the dark!’
Taking the key from his hand he placed it into one of the ornate locks. The small spikes that covered its surface filled the grooves and held snugly into position. With a sense of victory he loosened his collar and pulled out a small chain that easily snapped, freeing the second key from its hiding place. Holding the case at eye level he aimed the silvery charm towards the lock, lining its raised edges to the correlating, decorative pits.
The apocalypse was mere moments away and all Aimee could do was watch; an enforced witness in her own broken body.
Scullin let out a scream.
But it wasn’t the sound of triumph.
As he dropped both the key and case, the cry was that of blood curdling agony. A red patch of liquid seeped through his shirt before his chest erupted as something exploded through his ribcage; driven through from the other side.
He stumbled forwards, onto his knees, pawing at his own bleeding body and crumpling with pain. As he fell to the ground he revealed a young woman stood behind him. Her hand dripped with his life juices and in her clenched palm was a pointed, jagged object.
The weapon’s gnarled, boney structure was familiar to Aimee’s eyes, as was the girl’s face, but it took a moment for both to register.
It was the unicorn’s horn.
And it was Kayleigh!
The girl smiled at Aimee before she took the horn in both hands, reaching above her head then driving it down, hard into Scullin’s neck. It parted his flesh with unnatural ease as Kayleigh buried her weapon along his spine and deep into his skull. His lifeless shell slumped further forward, collapsing ont
o the ground with a large thud.
There would be no healing from these wounds. Not with an object from his own dark realm.
‘They never teach you to check for a pulse at cop school,’ Kayleigh quipped with a wry smile.
‘Kayleigh!’ Aimee shouted with joy as the pair met in an embrace.
‘Careful.’ Kayleigh winced as she pulled herself free from the smothering hug. ‘I’m still a bit tender.’
Taal lay on his back, struggling for air, listening to the chatter of the two heroic women. An uncharacteristic smile spread across his face as he drew his final breath, his sightless eyes staring at the dawning of a starless night.
Disobeying his sister’s command, Jake ran to the centre of the construction site, tired of waiting at the wreck of the police car and worried about Aimee. She always could take care of herself, but this was different, Scullin was no ordinary idiot on a Saturday night.
For the first time in her life, Aimee was pleased he hadn’t listened. His worried, but warm smile greeted her as he ran toward the Special Constable and Kayleigh.
They hugged, and as Aimee’s chin rested on his shoulder she noticed something, half trodden into the mud. Digging it from the earth, she discovered it was a car key; the Audi logo giving her a clear indication of which car it belonged to.
As Kayleigh and Jake headed back to the police car, Aimee staggered across the construction site.
‘I’ve just got to check something out. You guys head back up to Laura and get help. I’ll be fine,’ she reassured their worried expressions.
By the time the teenagers reached their destination Laura had good news; she’d managed to reach someone on the radio. Despite the immense damage done to the car, the radio was working perfectly. Police and ambulances were being dispatched and would be with them soon.
Jake set the briefcase down, using it as a stool whilst he studied the two, strange shaped keys he’d salvaged from the site of the massacre.
Thunder gently echoed from far away, blown from the city skies by the powerful winds.
‘Don’t be fooled,’ Kayleigh said as she eased herself onto a seat of the smashed police car. ‘That storm may be heading off but the rain will be here for days.’
She sat, hypnotised for a while, as she watched the rain drops lightly splatter the windscreen in front of her. The sound of them hitting the roof gave her a pleasing sense of security.
Breaking free of her trance, Kayleigh turned to Laura as they sat together.
‘You okay?’ she asked.
The Audi stood, untouched, next to the blood soaked limousine that had acted as a prison to her and a crypt to her colleague.
‘Osborne,’ Aimee muttered remorsefully as she walked by, stopping for a moment to gaze once more on his face; peacefully blank in its eternal slumber.
She allowed a minute of silence as a mark of respect before leaving her moment of mourning. Forrest stood by the black Audi and took another look through the tinted windows. She could have sworn she’d seen movement from the other side of the glass earlier today. Everything had happened so fast she hadn’t time to check properly. But now she could.
The Special Constable pressed the unlock button. Yellow sidelights flashed and a whirring mechanism indicated the doors had unlocked. Aimee cautiously gripped the door handle and clicked it open. Gently she pulled it free, but as she got halfway the door was suddenly pushed wide by a heavy force. Something large fell from the backseat, thudding onto the ground.
‘It unnerves me how you do that,’ a voice rasped down the phone. ‘I received word you were dead.’
‘Consider me the proverbial cat,’ the blonde haired woman replied, with a chilling calmness. She placed her sunglasses back onto the bridge of her nose.
‘Remind me to never underestimate you, Cross,’ came the retort. ‘Do you have the prize?’ The phone crackled, struggling to hold its connection.
‘Not yet,’ Cross reclined into the soft leather of a luxury swivel chair, whilst a sigh emanated from the speaker. She heard the rain gently tap against the window of her office, overlooking the city. The storm was returning. ‘But there’s still time… Yes,’ her patience sounded strained as she replied to a question, muffled by the weakening signal, ‘we have an agent in the field. Sheppard is in position.’
‘It works!’ Jake shouted in amazement, startling the two women.
Laura and Kayleigh both looked to see the keys inserted into the briefcase, the spiky points fitting perfectly into the slits and grooves of the decorative locks.
‘Jake, you stupid idiot, that’s evidence. Aimee will kill you!’ Kayleigh warned him, but he was in no mood to listen. Curiosity had taken hold.
He flicked the catches and the locks sprang open.
As Jake gripped the case the wind began to howl with an increasing ferocity.
Cautiously he raised the lid, but was shocked by the sudden spring action that took hold. It burst open, falling from his lap as he jumped in surprise.
The case fell on its side. Jake and Laura scrabbled to rescue its contents, but were too late. A large, solitary envelope, fell to the floor. Laura’s hands reached to grab it, but the wind took hold of the curled corners and carried it across the construction site.
Aimee gasped as she looked down by her feet at the foul surprise that was wrapped in a familiar denim dress. A head of long, brown hair half covered a sunken face; shrivelled and lifelessly grey in colour. Their eyes were a muted blue, locked in an expression of terror and devoid of the spark of life.
‘Laura,’ Aimee whispered, her brain racing to understand what she was seeing.
Looking further up the site she could make out the three figures of Jake, Kayleigh and Laura.
Her mind cast back to the shooting outside the bank. The numbers of people in suits and sunglasses. There had been another woman in their group.
But how…?
The words of Maja drifted through her mind, Each of the Dark Guard has a unique way in which their powers manifest…
In the distance the Special Constable saw the girl in the denim dress stood behind the others as they crowded round the empty briefcase. Aimee ran towards them as the girl raised her hands above her head, clutching something long and pointed whilst stepping closer to Kayleigh and Jake.
As the gales grew stronger the envelope lifted, high into the air. Over the fence and across the city it sailed, past the fountains and through the centre until it fell with grace, landing in a dark, grimy alleyway. As the sodden package drifted downwards it dislodged a pile of rubbish, knocking used condoms, empty cigarette packets, even a battered old memory stick into an ephemeral river, created by the blocked drains.
The envelope itself was next to be caught by the current and followed the stream of filthy flood water until, exposed to the prevailing winds once more, it took flight. Soaring into the air, it danced one last time with the rain before it pirouetted earthwards and fell through the crack of an open window.
The resident of the flat had slumbered all afternoon in front of the television, and was rudely awoken by the soggy envelope, slopping its wet mass, squarely in their face.
Startled at first by the damp encounter, the woman sat up and rubbed herself dry. Intrigued, she made her way to the kitchen table, placed her glasses on the end of her nose and opened the sealed flap.
Her muscles contracted as her body stiffened, shocked by the sight before her. She stumbled backwards and fell against a worktop, holding her hands out to try and steady herself. Something slithered just out of the corner of her vision as growing circles danced in front of her eyes, shimmering with an oil-like vibrancy as they swirled through the air in wild rotations. The walls of her flat crawled towards the ceiling, allowing off-green vines to force their way into her abode like a swarm of inquisitive tentacles.
She held her stomach as she felt it protest, gurgling from the enforced nausea. The circles in her vision span faster and faster until suddenly they collided together, exploding like static fr
om an old television.
Euphoria gripped her heart, saturated with an intense awakening of abject terror. Her eyes remained wide open, unable to even blink at the sights before her.
It was as if all of creation had stopped still, frozen in microcosm before her eyes; a picture postcard of eternity that hung from invisible hooks in all its terrifying beauty.
Thunder cracked loudly in the sky as she held her hand to her mouth, almost obscuring the words of her native language as she exclaimed in disbelief, ‘O Boże!’
Every tale must have a beginning.
This is where we will start.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J. R. Park is an author of horror fiction and co-founder of the Sinister Horror Company. His books have received critical praise; enough to encourage further scribblings on the dark and macabre.
He resides in Bristol, UK. An avid music fan, he can often be found watching live music in various venues across the city. If you see him nodding in approval to a wave of white noise with a faraway look in his eye, then chances are another book is on the cards.
The following preview contains the introduction and first chapter to J. R. Park’s next novella.
MAD DOG
J.R Park
Introduction
Darkdale prison was subject to a second serious incident in as many months. In order to understand the events that took place a series of interviews were conducted. What follows is the compiled testimonies of witnesses to this second atrocity.
Chapter 1
Hannah Miller (University Student): You know I wasn’t there, right? I had no intention of visiting, even before that bastard Mooney got sent down. Sure, you could say I met Mooney. Encountered him, would be more appropriate. Mad Dog, they called him, right? Jimmy used to say that in his letters.