Dare to Read: 13 Tales of Terror

by Jamie C. Pritchard

  “You just can’t keep a good guy down, can you?” John made a sarcastic face at the remark. “Something to ask or just mooching about?”

  “A bit of both.”

  Tip stopped leaning on the lamppost and knit his brow. “What is the asking part about?”

  “So the B’s are now interfering with Jarlo?” began John at a volume slightly lower than normal. Tip focused his intense, little face. “’Fraid so. On one hand you wonder just how much they have got their shit together. On the other you know it’s a matter of time before it all goes splat.”

  “How are they managing to sneak into Betson’s warehouse?”

  “Couldn’t tell you who but,” John had already started nodding, “a member of the Walker Cartel is helping Tez.”

  “Man, when he gets found out...”

  “But I think something more may be happening in the shape of a new gang.” John wasn’t expecting that one. “Tez has wanted to fry bigger fish for a long time now while some of Jarlo’s cronies aren’t happy with the cuts they’re getting. Put two and two together and suddenly it’s not the craziest notion.”

  “No, but a few clips are going to be emptied in the process.”

  “You’re right, and on that note I’d advise staying away from Morgan’s square for the foreseeable future, if you care about your wellbeing at all.” Tip smiled again. “So do tell me about this latest piece of unofficial police work.” A grin flashed inside the hood. “Terrorizing poor gang members at night?”

  “Who told you?”

  “Deacon said some crazy motherfucker kneed him in the balls. Nobody else would pull any shit like that.” Tip had a quiet moment to think. “But didn’t you once bust him when you were on the force?

  “Shit, I dunno. It’s not like there was time to take a picture while I was busting them.”

  “I see your concept of busting has become even looser.” Tip nodded back at that grin and begun to look around at all the conversations going on. “You know if I told some of the people here who you are they’d be lining up to, well, at the very least crack a rib?”

  “Yeah, but then I’d make sure to crack one of yours in advance. Maybe rip it out and use it as a stick.”

  “Easy tiger. Just promise me you won’t do that during the next ‘bust’.”

  “You know I can’t promise that,” said John and they both laughed. The ex-cop began to make his exit. Tip had a parting shot for him that may have come from a place of concern. “I really won’t be surprised if I don’t see you again.” John briefly stopped and turned. “Yeah, but the same goes if you do see me again.” He walked until laughter couldn’t be heard and burrowed his way into an alleyway.

  There may have been no direction to this walk but his mind was occupied. He wanted to know all the people involved in this new movement. It dawned that, as a consequence, every gang would be more vulnerable. If only somehow he could inform them of the backstabbing during another warehouse raid, oh how sweet that would be! He wouldn’t even need to do any busting as they’d happily kill each other. Charming himself with this John smiled at the ugly, fortress-esque buildings like he was looking at the rosiest of sunsets. A moment later it clicked this street was real familiar. Peering to his left he saw the place where he used to work - Grevden Police Station.

  This building was more attractive than the norm, if only just. It still had that fortress vibe to it but there were some nice touches with pillars and an engraving of a laurel ringing the scales of justice. John’s eyes moved from the main entrance up to the third floor where he office was, where he used to be briefed while chugging coffee. They were boring when he thought about it but it was a precursor to being let off the leash. Dave Carr was his main partner when on night patrol and boy did they have fun. He was specifically chosen to be the counter-weight to John’s break-an-arm-and-ask-no-questions style. They received awards that John didn’t care for but they at least proved he was, at one time, an effective cop.

  Following a shift he would eagerly check what areas the chief wanted him to prowl tomorrow before going home - back when home was cosy, back when Kristine used to come round and get banged silly. In fairness she was probably getting banged by half the force. A bit of skirt wasn’t the reason John felt low as he continued to reminisce. It was a simple case of no longer having any structure which underlined the shithole of a city he lived in. Not one to get teary he felt that anger which ultimately led to his dismissal.

  The brood ended when he saw a cop exit the building and light up. He looked at the uniform and realised he much preferred the rain coat he was wearing that now served its true purpose as a light drizzle came down. Thought returned to these new developments in the Grevden landscape. John felt a drive like never before to identify all those behind the warehouse raids. “You just don’t have any restraint or detective instincts!” the chief had yelled at him shortly before it was over. John was determined to show him otherwise, not to be taken back on, fuck that, but to shove it in his face. The officer stumped his cig and went back into the huge station. John walked away from it with a life-affirming plan.

  3

  Food shopping at Grevden was not the domestic experience it usually is. You tried to be quick about it, checked who was down each aisle. At Denlin’s Supermarket the aisles were long and wide. Most of the food was locked in triple-glazed fridges you had to open with a loaned key that must be given back if you were to buy anything. Trollies were heavy duty and needed a few coins to be released. That stopped people stealing them. It didn’t stop them being using as battering rams. Fortunately for customers, Denlin’s security guards had very short fuses who were currently eyeing a couple of youths lingering by the magazines. John opted for a basket and filled it with food that he promised himself to stop eating.

  At the frozen section he was torn between fish and beef. Who was he kidding? It was all crap. As he reached for one of them he noticed another guy park up beside. They did the customary thing and leer at each other. The stranger reached for something which lifted the sleeve of his coat revealing a tattoo. John frowned. It was the second time he’d seen it today and in the same location - on the inside of the forearm. The design was small and neat. John’s guess was a Nordic rune. It probably deserved more attention but the pressing issue was to return home with his food.

  Back at his flat, John kicked the door shut and unloaded. Food was not the only thing he had bought. The latest issue of The Grevden Adviser was thrown on the table. After making himself fresh coffee he sat down and wrestled with the wonky table – something he forgot to tell Patrick. The paper was Grevden’s sole one after the others capitulated from threats. A lot of the content was controlled by The Walker Cartel but there were still a few dedicated journalists who felt it their duty to inform. What was usually front page news would in fact be two thirds in as a small column between adverts. John kept an eye out for this trick and was rewarded on this occasion.

  Two Bodies Found

  “Two male bodies were found last night, one on Pimdon Street and one in Morgan’s Square. Early speculation believes both were members of the Killa B’s. Nobody claims to have heard gunshots and the bodies were in plain view.”

  John started glugging the coffee. So the retaliation had begun. Jarlo had had enough of the cargo going missing. Clearly the bodies were left in the open to send a message. If they weren’t knifed or throttled then it was probably some kind of powerful Taser. Now if only John could enlighten more cartel members that they were being ripped off. Create more suspicion in the ranks and then boom! Spill the beans with evidence about how one of Jarlo’s men was helping the B’s. All hell breaks loose and then the police sail in to cuff those who are still alive. Okay, so it was a kamikaze plan, but it had the distinction of being one in which John didn’t get violent.

  Of course he needed to find out exactly who it was helping and that was easier said than done. John pulled out some files of Jarlo’s men and tried to see who the likely candidates were. The old and ve
ry young could probably be written off as you needed both experience and speed to do this. If there weren’t so many members that may have narrowed things down but it left him with a choice of nearly a hundred. Regardless, with his coffee at hand John studied these now out of date profiles till his eyes hurt, and by that point his crummy bed looked good. He slumped into it and felt like he could nod off quickly. He started to drift when a drilling noise went off above. About the third time this week John made it. Why the fuck would you do DIY in a place like this? he thought. As with most things he found the funny side of it and eventually dozed off.

  Just like that a new day began. John had not slept much but this plan of his had him wide awake in no time. With that morning clarity he realised another meeting with Tip was needed. There was an interesting human truth and that is if you came across as knowing more about a subject he would be loose-tongued about the details of it. If John gave the impression he knew which cartel member it was and that he was on the brink of action Tip might give some advice which may inadvertently spill who it is. John nodded to himself and secretly felt proud. That could actually work!

  First thing was first and that involved leaving home shit home. The rain was coming down heavier today. John flung his hood up and walked in the direction of Café Black. From the other side of the road he could see Patrick munching away. Stopping for a chat would have been nice but he didn’t need to. Instead this morning’s copy of the Adviser was bought from a newsagent’s (similarly reinforced like the supermarket). He protected it from the rain until he slipped into an alleyway where a tramp lay. John thumbed past the shite and got to the section where there might be something of interest. His gaze widened upon seeing the headline.

  Five More Bodies Found

  “Less than a day after two bodies were discovered on Pimdon Street and in Morgan’s Square respectively, five more have been found in various parts of the city. The chief of police, Dan Benton, has confirmed they are from different gangs. What contradicts the idea of gang warfare is the circumstances in which they were found – one lying in a supermarket, another slumped beside a cash machine (with money still in their grasp). Early reports on the first two victims claim them to have no visible injuries. Toxicology tests are underway. In the meantime the Adviser urges citizens to stay home. If you must food shop go in the morning.”

  The first thing that struck John was the locations. Had there been a scene in a supermarket there would have been eye witnesses. Toxicology tests may tell a different story but then what was the chance of simultaneous poisonings in different areas? That didn’t make sense. John really needed to speak with Tip again. Before carrying on he saw the tramp struggling to get comfy and offered him the newspaper to add to his cardboard couch. It was about as nice as he got.

  The rain came down harder. John felt like it was interfering with his brain waves. He walked with his head bowed. While going past alleyways he made sure to glance to the side as ambushes were the real danger. He did see another tramp down one of them…wearing jeans and a bomber jacket? That wasn’t a tramp. John went into cop mode and approached carefully. There was no movement. The body leant against a bin. He did what needed to be done and pulled on a shoulder to reveal a blue face. What would make your average Joe scream made John frown. A bit further up was a door that required a password. He checked for weapons and found a Colt 45. A brief check of its empty clip and he shifted his eyes to see a tattoo of a dagger on his fist – that’s right brain, a tattoo! The right sleeve was pulled up and he saw what his instincts were shouting. There was that Nordic-like rune again. No need to report this one. Did Tip know anything about these tattoos? That was the question.

  4

  John made his way to the park, hoping it would not lead to more questions. He had to watch out for ankle-deep puddles as well as gang members who prowled in groups of around ten. On the road rain water poured into gutters. One of them had an issue that resulted in the brown stuff being regurgitated. John was glad he was a safe distance away. He turned his attention to the knuckles on his left hand. They had all healed up now. It was a very mild injury in the first place. He rotated his right arm which made its habitual clicking noise, and that reminded John of his closest shave.

  About three years ago he was with his amigo Dave Carr. They had been assigned to monitor a place where drugs and money changed hands. Nobody was going to get busted for that in Grevden. The idea was just to take note of who the clientele was, if there were any new faces. There was also the possibility of violence if there was a disagreement. As they rolled up with the lights off, Dave noticed John looking overeager.

  “Hey, relax okay? We’re just here to watch things unfold.”

  For ten minutes they did just that. Unfortunately a nearby door opened and shone light onto the car which caught everyone’s eye. Quick as anything bottles were hurled at the vehicle. Dave slammed his foot on the gas but, as ever, John had other things in mind and got out to head towards the action. His pistol was removed and he began to kneecap whoever wanted some. Most had run away. He got the last person and saw if there was anyone else. There was, and he didn’t see him coming. Another door opened and out came a baseball bat thug. John received a blow on his right shoulder blade and heard the damage. Knocked to the floor he caught a glimpse of the thug winding up with his head being the next target. That’s when a gun shot went off and the thug hit the deck. John looked up and saw Dave using the roof of the car to steady his aim. John gave a thumbs-up with that crazy smile but Dave just shook his head with a lost expression.

  Yeah, that may have been the last straw, and maybe he was wrong, but revisiting the past had done him zero favours. Besides, what he was doing now was something of a new leaf. John stopped clicking his shoulder and cut into the alley that lead to the park. Cars razzing down the main streets was still audible.

  Nobody was by the lamppost but that was understandable with the weather. He walked over a muddy slush and peered into each dugout. People stopped talking to see who it was. John chuckled at the prospect of that lad he kneed in the balls being here. Tip was in one with someone, giving him advice about what’s a good price for protecting a kebab shop. When he saw John he hurried his answer, speeding up his already fast delivery, and said goodbye with a fist bump.

  “A lot of weird shit goin’ on.”

  “Weirder than you think,” replied John. “Guess what I found on my way here?” Tip waited for the answer. “A fresh body.”

  “Shit. Where was that?”

  “In an alleyway connecting Friars and Pimdon Street.”

  Tip nervously juggled his phone. “No sign of anyone, anything?” A knowing look came over John’s face. “Actually, yes, I did find something, something on the inside of his forearm.”

  “A tattoo?”

  “Exactly!” John realised that was a bit too loud. “Yeah, so what, I take it you’ve seen them?”

  “Some kind of symbol. Maybe-”

  “Do you reckon it’s exclusive to this new gang?” John cut in.

  “No, erm, well.” Tip obviously hadn’t thought about it. “If it is that means there’s many members, but then I guess I’ve seen it a lot of people with it.” John was nodding, willing this version of events along. “The only problem is not all of them seemed like gang members.”

  “We both know not everyone looks like an obvious member. What if all these bodies are discovered to have the tattoo!? There’s the chance the bodies and tattoos coincide.”

  Tip didn’t scoff at the idea. “If that was the case then Jarlo must have nipped this new movement in the bud.” John gave a milder nod while thinking. His face became increasingly engrossed. “Right!” he started, “What if Jarlo had issued someone to do these tattoos for the new gang, like some guy suggested it, when really it was just to mark them like cattle so they could identify and pick them off later!” Tip thought about that then smiled.

  “Well I’ve definitely heard nuttier things from you. Maybe they did do something like that
, but, you’d have to wait and see if the dead wear the tattoo.” John nodded in a reserved but confident manner.

  “And you haven’t heard of any more hijacking at Betson’s warehouse?”

  Tip shook his head then apologised because he had to answer the phone. “No problem,” said John. “See you later.” He started walking back with a spring in his step.

  It was annoying there was only one newspaper. If The Grevden Gazette was still around then he’d definitely know what’s going on. Real informative they were, that’s why they there were the first to go. John suddenly realised he hadn’t eaten today. For a second he was hungry. Then he remembered what was waiting for him. That moggie he used to own didn’t even like it. He also thought if that bastard starts drilling again he’s going to go up there and slap him, more palm than fingers.

  One day followed another. John bought every paper, each time with the feverish hope that it would have the information he needs. Then again, if a journalist of the Adviser knew Jarlo was behind this extermination then would he/she really spill that? Not unless they were due to get whacked. Not impossible but unlikely. John continued to purchase the Adviser until he saw something that deepened the mystery.

  Bodies Linked With Small Tattoo

  “As more bodies were found last night it came out they have the same symbol in the same location (inside of the forearm). We presume this is for a gang, one whose uprising is ending before it’s begun, but that still does not explain how these people died. The autopsy results of the first two are inconclusive. No sign of drugs or any kind of internal damage while the number of dead rules out sudden heart failure.”