Journey from Darkness

by Gareth Crocker

  Joe sat up and again peered through the gap in the wall. He watched as a man carrying a lantern stepped into the hut. The light formed a bright halo over his arm but faded out over the rest of his body. But even so, Joe recognised him immediately.

  ‘What took you so long, Requin? Where’ve you been?’

  Requin, Joe thought, his mind flicking through the sparse pages of his French wordbook.

  ‘Shark?’ he mouthed to himself.

  ‘I stopped at the bar for a while.’

  ‘I told you to stay away from there.’

  Requin lowered his head and, with it, his voice. ‘I forgot. I wasn’t there long.’

  Xavier stood up and launched his bottle across the room. ‘Do not insult me! You did not forget.’

  Requin remained quiet; he knew better than to argue the point.

  ‘What’s wrong with you lately?’

  ‘Nothing. It won’t happen again.’

  Xavier stared intently at his brother before reluctantly resuming his seat. Requin shuffled to a nearby chair and quickly put himself on it. He placed the lantern on the floor between them.

  ‘I’ve decided how I want to do it,’ Xavier finally said, folding his arms.

  ‘How?’

  ‘At night. One by one.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I’ll come to them in their sleep. I want them to open their eyes and see me standing over them.’

  ‘Who will you do first?’

  ‘The young one. The peacemaker. I’m going to remove his face and deliver it to the other two.’

  ‘And then? The big bastard that attacked me?’

  ‘No, he’ll be last. I’ve planned something special for him.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Later,’ Xavier replied, edging forward on his chair. ‘I first want to show you what I plan to do with the other detective.’ He reached for the lantern and rose to his feet. As he adjusted the wick, a bright light flared over them. He walked to the side of the room and bent down into the shadows, his arms reaching for something beyond Joe’s view. Although he couldn’t see what Xavier was lifting, judging by the taut lines on his arms, it was something substantial. As he moved back into view and twisted around in the light, Joe recoiled at what was revealed.

  It barely seemed real.

  Cradled in Xavier’s arms was a large crucifix. Two thick tree branches, trunks almost, nailed and bound together with rope. ‘I’m going to burn him on this. Outside the police station.’

  Requin leapt to his feet and clapped spontaneously. ‘Beautiful! Bravo! But why a crucifix?’

  ‘Because,’ he replied, propping up his creation against the wall and then draping his shadow over it. ‘He said he had always wanted one on his body. An ordinary man on a crucifix. Now I will see that it happens.’

  As Xavier’s voice reached him, carrying impossible words, Joe stopped breathing.

  How could he know that?

  50

  As bloated storm clouds advanced over the horizon, bringing an early nightfall to the bush, Requin dropped onto his haunches to light up his lantern. He watched as a blue flame licked its tongue against the glass.

  ‘I’m coming, baby bird,’ he whispered, raising the lantern to his face. ‘I’m almost there.’ He was only a few hundred yards away from his special place and already he could feel the familiar longing in his groin. As the first drops of rain began to fall, he turned his face to the sky and opened his mouth. He closed his eyes and imagined entering Vicky from behind, her hands still tied above her head. He knew that as much as she would plead with him to stay and continue their lovemaking, he would have to disappoint her and fulfil his brother’s wishes. Xavier was growing increasingly suspicious of the time he spent away from the cabin and he couldn’t allow his hidden refuge to be found. Xavier would not understand. He would not be happy at all.

  Licking the rain from his lips, Requin lowered his chin and broke into a run. Thrusting his arms at his side, he tried to remember what the girl looked like but had almost no memory of her face whatsoever. It was always that way. Not that it really mattered. In a few hours she would be dead and likely faceless anyway.

  As he reached the entrance to the stone house, thunder shook the ground around him. He stepped inside, holding his lantern out in front of him. ‘Are you awake, baby bird? Did you miss me?’ he asked, the light from his lantern glowing faintly on her back. She was hanging in the middle of the room, some twenty feet from him, her body shrouded in a haze of dripping rainwater and shadow.

  ‘I promised you I’d be back and here I am,’ he said, prowling towards her. ‘You see, I didn’t forget about you.’

  He set down the lantern and was about to reach up and put his hands on her, when Vicky spun around. Letting go the rope she stepped forward, grabbed his arm, and shoved a gun in his face.

  Only it wasn’t Vicky.

  ‘Neither did I,’ Joe said, his face without expression.

  ‘Y–You’re that policeman! That f–fucking detective,’ Requin wailed. ‘Where’s my baby bird? What have you done to her? If you’ve hurt her … you will regret it.’

  Joe’s instincts had been right from the start – the man was out of his fucking mind. Tucking his gun into his belt, Joe leaned forward and punched Requin so hard that his front teeth snapped in their gums. ‘Do you know what you are?’

  Requin howled in agony. ‘W–What’re you doing? You’re–you’re … the law. You can’t do this!’

  Joe leaned forward and head-butted him on the bridge of his nose, obliterating bone and cartilage. ‘You’re cancer. An abomination.’

  The fear in Requin’s eyes was suddenly replaced by a dark anger, a flash of madness. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a hunting knife – a blade he had intended to use on Vicky. Crying, he lunged at Joe.

  But Joe saw it coming. He feinted to his right, easily avoiding the blade, and drove his elbow into Requin’s throat. The knife immediately dropped from his hand and he collapsed onto his back, clutching his neck. As he writhed around on the floor, gasping for air, Joe pushed his knee down into Requin’s chest and pressed the barrel of his gun into his left eye. ‘How many elephants did you butcher? How many people have you murdered?’

  Requin, struggling for breath, managed a faint shadow of a grin and then did something entirely unexpected. He began to sing an old, yet familiar, lullaby.

  But after a few verses, he stopped abruptly and his stare hardened. ‘Go ahead and arrest me, ghost … my brother’s going to cut off your fucking head!’

  Joe smiled at the misshapen face under his gun, the man’s features contorting further in the flickering light. ‘You think I’m here to arrest you?’

  Requin’s grin faltered and then collapsed entirely. His eyes snatched at the darkness around him, looking for a way out, searching for help that wasn’t there. ‘You’re a lawman. Y–You can’t kill me.’

  ‘Why not? Did you really expect us to sit back and wait for you?’

  ‘But the law … the law … you can’t–’

  ‘Where was the law when you cut open those elephants? When you raped and killed those girls?’

  ‘Fuck you! You can’t do this! Where is my Vicky?’

  Joe lowered his head and then slowly whispered in Requin’s ear. ‘Hey, Shark … tell the Devil I’m sending your brother down.’

  And then he pulled the trigger.

  51

  Xavier was sound asleep, lying as always with his rifle across his chest, when the sound of breaking glass woke him. He bolted upright. ‘Requin,’ he called out. ‘That you?’

  There was no response.

  He quickly rose to his feet, hoisted up his rifle, and kicked open the bedroom door. Glass from one of the small side windows lay strewn on the wooden boards. Unperturbed, he headed to his brother’s room and slipped through the doorway.

  The room was empty, still empty.

  He spun around and moved to the front door. Snatching it open, he swung his rifle from si
de to side, his finger poised on the trigger. But there were no obvious targets to aim at, nothing to take down. There was only the night and a faraway bank of trees in his sights. At a glance, everything appeared as it should be.

  Everything, except for the glint of a distant light flickering against the darkness.

  A campfire?

  Keeping his rifle raised, he charged towards it. Reaching the base of a large fever tree, he dropped down and held his breath, listening for any signs of movement ahead of him. Tightening his grip on the Mauser, he plunged deeper into the bush. Branches, like the scalloped hands of scarecrows, clawed at his face and arms. A knot of tangled roots threatened to upend him, but he was able to maintain his footing. He was an expert at night hunting and knew how to balance his weight during a blind run. Reaching a ridge of tall grass, he dropped to his knees and listened again.

  Still there was nothing, only the familiar sounds of the night. Moving carefully now, he crept towards what was now clearly a small fire. As he got within a hundred yards of the spiralling flames, he realised what he was looking at.

  Buried in the middle of a clearing was the crucifix he had made, burning a bright amber. And then, before his mind could contemplate anything further, a figure stepped out in front of the flames.

  Xavier’s eyes widened and he broke into a short sprint. There was a natural path through the trees and he was almost through it when he forced himself to stop. The figure appeared to be waiting for him. It had to be a trap, he knew. Why else would the man expose himself? If it was one of the policemen, which he was certain it was, the other two had to be hiding in the trees, waiting for him to step out into the open. He leaned against the back of the final tree before the clearing and scanned the branches above him, looking for signs of huddled forms.

  ‘Think I’m a fool, ghost?’ he shouted.

  Joe turned to the sound of Xavier’s voice. He was naked from the waist up, his neck and arms flecked in blood. ‘I believe you’re many things.’

  ‘Where’re the other two ghosts? Hiding in the trees? Do you think I’m a goddamn imbecile? Think you can just lure me out with a few breadcrumbs?’

  ‘My partners aren’t here. They know nothing about this. This is between you and me. They think you should be arrested. I disagree.’

  Xavier stole a glance at him from behind the tree. ‘Where’s your gun?’

  ‘I’m not armed,’ he said, then pointed to his bare chest. ‘I wanted you to see that.’

  ‘Really? And where’s my brother?’

  ‘In a happy place,’ Joe shot back, looking down at the blood on his arms. ‘Well, happy for me at least.’

  ‘That’s not an answer.’

  ‘I found your brother in an abandoned stone house a few miles from here. Do you know that he used the place to rape and torture women?’

  Silence.

  ‘I discovered one of his victims there, hanging from a rafter. A young girl by the name of Vicky. Does the name mean anything to you?’

  ‘What did you do to him?’

  ‘What do you think?’ he said, and then paused. ‘I ended his life.’

  Xavier nodded, cleared his throat. ‘Tell me, ghost, what is stopping me from shooting you right now?’

  ‘Nothing really,’ Joe shrugged. ‘Other than that you don’t yet understand what’s happening here.’

  ‘If your partners are hiding in the trees, do you really think they can bring me down before I put a bullet in your face?’

  ‘I told you. They’re not here. This is between us.’

  ‘If you’re alone, then you’ve come here to die. I’m interested to know why you would do that. Are you that afraid? Just want this to be over with?’

  ‘Actually, it’s all very simple. I’ve come here to send you to your brother. It’s your time to go. That’s just how it is.’

  Xavier laughed and then felt his teeth lock together. His instincts were telling him to use his rifle, but knew he couldn’t. Not yet. Not until he knew more about what was happening. What was he missing? There had to be something.

  ‘So you’re telling me you’ve killed my brother … brought me to this place … unarmed … and that you’re here to kill me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And how the fuck is that going to happen?’

  Joe reached slowly behind him and withdrew two hunting knives from his belt. ‘You like to work with blades, don’t you?’ He held onto one knife and tossed the other into the sand less than ten yards from where Xavier was standing behind the tree.

  ‘C’mon, let’s see what you’ve really got when you put down the rifle. Let’s see if you have the stomach for a knife fight. Or are all your prey defenceless women and animals? Have you ever fought like a man? Ever cut a man when his back wasn’t turned?’

  Xavier stepped out from behind the tree and widened his stance. ‘I could cut off your arms with that knife if I wanted to.’

  ‘But you’re not even going to try, are you? Because the truth is you’re nothing without your rifle. You were a deserter in the war and you’re still a fucking coward. The only reason you don’t want to pick up that blade is because you know you will lose.’

  Xavier lowered his head and stared down the Mauser’s long barrel. ‘You took the gamble of your life coming out here tonight, unarmed … and you know what? You lose. I’m going to shoot you in the stomach and then nail you to that fucking cross. I was planning to use it on your partner, but that’s just the way life goes sometimes. Have you ever been shot, Detective?’

  Joe stood his ground, but did not reply.

  ‘It burns like a fire,’ he grinned. ‘Which you can then compare it to when I light up your skin.’ He took aim, shut his left eye, made sure of his shot, and then pulled back on the trigger.

  Click.

  Nothing.

  Click.

  Click. Click.

  ‘You know something, Xavier? You’re not the world’s lightest sleeper,’ he said, reaching into his pockets and pulling out handfuls of bullets. He held them up to the firelight before discarding them over his shoulder. ‘Maybe you misunderstood me. Passing on the knife fight was never an option.’

  Something approaching fear flickered across Xavier’s face.

  ‘Afraid, Legionnaire? You damn well should be.’

  Xavier threw down his rifle and stepped out into the open. ‘Let’s see what you say when I bury this–’

  But his words were cut short by the sound of metal shearing through skin. Suddenly, his right leg felt like it had been torn from his body. He looked down and saw something almost unfathomable. He had stepped into a gin trap. Hot ribbons of blood covered its steel teeth.

  Joe took a satisfying breath and walked over to him. ‘I even used one of yours. For the sake of irony. Do you like that?’

  Xavier tried to speak, but retched instead.

  ‘We reap what we sow, Legionnaire.’

  His face contorted as he tried to find a way to cope with the pain. He could feel a splintered section of bone jutting out through the front of his shin.

  ‘How many animals have suffered in your traps? Hundreds? Did you ever once think of what they went through?’

  ‘They’re just fucking animals!’ he spat back, finally finding his voice. ‘Fuck them! Fuck them! And fuck you!’

  Joe bent down and picked up the second hunting knife. He then walked behind Xavier and scooped up his rifle. He didn’t want him to have anything he could use to pry open the trap. ‘How many times did you return to your traps, only to find the animal’s severed leg? Did you ever wonder what that creature went through as it chewed off its own limb? Can you imagine how much that animal must’ve wanted to live, to do that to itself?’

  ‘I don’t care …’

  ‘Do you know what the worst thing was for me?’

  Xavier was beginning to hyperventilate.

  ‘How you hacked the elephants to death. How you butchered them.’ He dipped his hand into his back pocket and withdrew a flimsy rus
ted blade – an old barber’s cut-throat. ‘This is for you. If you have the stomach for it and you want to live badly enough, you can use this blade to free yourself. But know that if you don’t … and when the fire goes out … the animals will pick up the smell of your blood. And they’ll wait and watch as your strength drains away. Then, when you’re all weak and defenceless, they’ll come at you, snapping at your face and arms … at your bleeding leg. They’ll come to take you, just like you’ve taken them. And that, Xavier, to answer your question … is how I plan to kill you.’

  Joe then stepped behind him and, just as he had done with his brother, whispered in his ear. ‘Do you remember what I promised you the last time we spoke?’

  Xavier’s eyes rolled back in his head. He was battling to remain conscious.

  ‘I gave you my word that the next time I saw you … you would be pleading for your life. Don’t make me a liar.’

  With that, he dropped the small blade at Xavier’s feet, turned, and strode away. The paraffin that had been poured onto the crucifix had now burnt away and all that remained was the glowing flesh of the wood. Near-darkness fell over the clearing. ‘They’ll be coming for you soon,’ he warned, without looking back. ‘You know it’s true.’

  As he passed through the trees, he doubted that Xavier would have either the stomach or the strength to cut off his own leg. The bush would soon claim him. In a final irony he realised that at some point, perhaps by morning, the vultures – the true angels of death – would be hovering over his body.

  Making his way up to the blood hut, he stopped and looked back one last time. Already a pair of dark forms shifted low in the shadows, the dying glow of the cross reflecting on their mottled coats. Already, it was happening.