Kill All Kill All

by Craig McNish

  “I have no right to ask anything of any one of you, but I would say this. If others had not been quick to think so badly of me because I behaved in a way they did not like, even though I hurt no one, or because I was a lowly servant and considered to be no good for anyone above my social standing, Jane, John and Elizabeth Brass might have lived long, successful lives. I beg of you not to let such small-mindedness ruin the lives of others.

  “You should do your work now, servant of God. I will not resist, you have my word.” Mills closed his eyes, trembling slightly as he lay on the ground, bracing himself for his existence to come to an end.

  *

  No one knew quite what to say, so simply waited for Reverend Boyd to take the initiative. He stepped forward, a solemn look on his face, and removed the lid from the small vial of holy water in his right hand.

  “Andrew Mills, I cast the Devil from thee! Be gone, all evil spirits who reside in the body of this child of God, so that his soul might finally be allowed to rest in peace!” Water spilled from the vial in the Reverend's hand over the chest of a now unmoving Mills, all eyes cast upon him to see what would happen next. Although she was handcuffed, Lomas was still giving a running commentary of events with the camera trained upon her and then Mills in turn. Roach, back in her muddied pair of heels, just shook her head and wished she could give the woman a decent slap across the face.

  “Nothing's happening” Smith commented, sounding disappointed. Boyd held up a hand to signify that he should be patient. It took a few minutes, but finally a faint mist began to rise up from Mills' body where the water had been spilled. With no one brave enough to venture too close and see what was going on, it was up to the all-seeing camera to capture events.

  “The material on the jacket is starting to bubble a little bit, where the water was” the cameraman commented. “I don't think it's going to catch fire or anything, but you can see the scorch marks.”

  “So is that it?” said Roach. “Did we cast the Devil out? I didn't know what to expect but I have to say that I thought it would be more than this.” She also sounded a little put out, which was almost justifiable given the trouble they had gone to for a result.

  “Hang on, something else is happening” said the cameraman.

  “Well you better be getting all this on tape Rob because I swear down I'll fucking kill you if you haven't” Lomas threatened her colleague. Rob looked at her, shrugged and went back to what he was doing. He knew Lomas was only fuming because he'd taken the lead role in reporting the most crucial part of the story. In fact, she probably hated him for it. Rob allowed himself a smug grin before concentrating again on the prostrate body of Mills.

  “Looks like he's starting to crumble away. Woah, what the hell is that?” Everyone took a couple of steps back as Mills' body began to bulge, bend and contort in a wholly unnatural way. Bones could be heard cracking and snapping as, it appeared, something inside of him was trying to fight its way out. Hawkins considered himself to have a strong constitution but even he thought that he was going to throw up. Somebody heaved at the sound of tearing flesh; Roach thought it was Smith but was so transfixed by what was going on in front of her she didn't bother turning round to check.

  “There's something starting to come out of his gut!” Rob shouted out. “Holy crap, it's a...” He didn't get time to finish his sentence. There was a few screams and expletives as Mills' body dissolved away into ash, leaving behind the most hideous of creatures in his place.

  *

  Both parties stood silently, regarding one another for a while. This 'thing', that had freed itself from Mills' body; a huge, black bird – a crow or raven, possibly – that stood maybe four feet tall. Its sheer size was oppressive, but instead of its usual legs and feet there was a pair of legs looking like that of a horse, only much smaller but in a proportionate size. Its beak was wet with blood, and the large, black eyes had a slight red mist behind them. Nobody dared move. And, then, in a rasping but ominous voice, it spoke.

  “You are to be commended for your wit and your guile” it said. “There are few who would dare go against me, yet you find yourselves victorious in hunting me down and banishing me from the body of the human who was Andrew Mills. I will not survive much longer while I remain on holy ground, and with many of you I have no quarrel, but there is one here who must be punished for her sins.” The creature went quiet, watched by the crowd as its gaze settled on Rachel Lomas. Rob took a few steps backward to get both Lomas and the creature in shot.

  “Me?” Lomas blurted out, aware she had been singled out for this apparent punishment. “I haven't sinned! What have I done!”

  “It has been said that Andrew Mills committed the most heinous of crimes when he slaughtered the three Brass children, but there is one far worse that you are guilty of. You chose to kill your own flesh and blood, and only an infant! A child of only mere months in this world, not knowing of any evil, and wholly unable to defend itself! It could not even speak! The shame you bear is immeasurable!” Hawkins, in his own twisted way, couldn't help but take satisfaction from the accusations the creature was levelling at Lomas. The reporter looked frail, ashen; she had no clue how to respond to the allegations.

  “But I don't even have any children. How could you possibly think I'd be capable of such a thing?” Rob kept his camera trained on Lomas and the enormous black bird she conversed with, thoughts of what this could do for his career creeping into the back of his own mind. For everyone else, it was merely a case of waiting to see how this stand-off would culminate. Looking into Lomas' distressed eyes, even Roach began to feel sorry for the woman. The creature began to speak again; this time its voice was softer, and in a voice more familiar.

  “Mother, why did you kill my sister?” came the soft whisper. The creature had adopted a sad, forlorn expression. Its eyes became shiny and glazed, with a large tear falling from each. In that moment, it seemed almost human with its vulnerable and emotional state. Hawkins felt the slightest pang of guilt that events had come to a head like this, and he wasn't the only one.

  “I didn't kill anyone, I swear...”

  “How is it possible to keep hidden from the world such a monstrous act? Did my father know of this?”

  “I don't know what you're talking about” Lomas persisted. “I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing.”

  “I understand that you were frightened, had a justified fear of being shunned by everyone you know, but if you were not able to keep her then why not leave her on the steps of a church, or at an orphanage where she could have been cared for? You took her life and she had no say in the matter!” The creature's voice was dark and threatening once more. “Now you are responsible for the death of both of your offspring! What say you?”

  “Oh shit, here we go” Roach whispered to Hawkins when the creature's eyes turned a blood red colour. Rob zoomed in on its face and was shocked to see the reflection of a noose in its left eye.

  “I killed nobody!” Lomas screamed. “I'm no murder, unlike you! Burn in hell, Andrew Mills!”

  “Not until the death of my sister is avenged! It shall be my final act upon this earth! You think to have slain me, but I will return much stronger and more fearsome than you could imagine, and I will have my run of this place as it erupts into flame and burns into ash! There will be vengeance!” The creature went quiet, but only for a moment. “Mary Manners, for perpetrating the death of your weeks-old daughter and Mary Mills, for overseeing the demise of your son of eighteen years, Andrew Mills, I take from thee your ability to bring more life into this world. Unless it be a child of pure evil, and know of nothing but hatred and cruelty and malevolence, it shall be no more than a lifeless slab of ice cold flesh.” And then, the creature's strength was no more. It expired with a shrill scream, consumed by flames that emanated from within its body. In a matter of seconds, nothing but a couple of charred black feathers remained. They were caught on a sudden breeze, crumbling away into nothing as they lifted from the ground.

 
“Is that it?” Smith asked tentatively. “Is it over?”

  “So it would seem” said Reverend Boyd, sounding unsure of his response. “I need to collect the ashes of Andrew Mills. Please, excuse me.” Roach and Hawkins looked to where Mills had lain; only a small amount of fine white ash remained, completely undisturbed by the breeze that had destroyed the final vestiges of the devil that had resided within him, given him life. Lomas had reverted to her usual self; she shouted instructions to Rob as he filmed Boyd scooping up the ashes of Andrew Mills and sealing them in a small but ornate wooden box, its edges smothered with melted candle wax.

  “I guess we go back to the station and write our reports up now then, Guv?” Sykes asked Hawkins.

  “That can wait, Sykes. I don't know about you but right now I could do with a bloody good drink. God knows we deserve it, and it's not every day you get to celebrate a wedding and funeral on the same day, is it? And I don't want any of that 'but there wasn't a wedding' crap from you.” Hawkins raised a finger to Roach, who had opened her mouth to speak but closed it again.

  “To the pub, then!” Smith said gleefully, his joyous mood crushed in an instant at the yelling and screaming that had broken out behind him.

  “What the hell was that?” Hawkins peered over his shoulder to see Lomas doubled over in agony. If it was an act to try and get out of being arrested then it was a damn good one, Roach thought as she dashed over to the stricken woman. A couple of quick questions had Roach calling out to Hawkins.

  “Boss, we need an ambulance here – now.”

  “That woman is trying to ruin my bloody life” Hawkins moaned to Roach in a whisper, the pair sat waiting for news on Rachel Lomas' condition in the A and E department at Durham University Hospital. “I bet there's nowt even wrong with her. She just wants to wriggle her way out of justice is all. Well not if I can help it.”

  “She didn't look too good on the way here” Roach countered. “It is possible she's telling the truth.” Hawkins looked at his colleague, wide-eyed and incredulous. He looked ready to launch into a tirade when Roach spotted a doctor approaching them. She nudged Hawkins and pointed him out. They both stood, readying themselves for what he had to say.

  “Detective Hawkins?”

  “That's me” Hawkins replied. “This is my colleague, Detective Roach. So, what's the story with Miss Lomas?”

  “I'm Doctor Sutton” he introduced himself. “Maybe we should talk somewhere more private.” Hawkins raised an eyebrow as he indicated for Roach to go first. The three of them sat down in an empty room off the reception area. Not much bigger than our stationary cupboard back down at the station, Roach thought silently.

  “I won't beat about the bush” Sutton began. “Miss Lomas is very poorly. It's just as well she got here when she did.”

  “So what was it, a burst appendix or something?”

  “Hardly, Detective Roach. Miss Lomas has just given birth.”

  “She's what? I didn't even know she was pregnant!”

  “And so, it seems, neither did she. I've checked her medical records, and there's no mention of any kind of pre-natal care, scans, not even a word from a midwife. So either she wasn't aware of the pregnancy or chose to ignore it. If it were the latter then poor decision-making almost cost Miss Lomas her life, but given the condition of the foetus I find it very difficult to believe she had no distress or discomfort before now.”

  “Care to elaborate, Doctor Sutton?” asked Hawkins, still not entirely sensitive to Lomas' condition.

  “Well, I use the word 'foetus' in the broadest possible sense of the word. What it actually was is, well, something of a mystery.”

  “Deformed?” Sutton shook his head slowly at Hawkins' assertion. He looked mildly shocked, even disturbed.

  “Technically, I suppose it was. Factually, it was hardly fitting of the description of a foetus. You could just about make out where a head had started to form, with the beginnings of a nose and mouth present, and there was evidence of limbs but essentially it was little more than a mound of skin, flesh and developing muscle. From size and weight it should have been at an advanced developmental stage, yet it had barely even started. Without an autopsy it's impossible to say what's even inside of it. What I can tell you is that in twenty-four years as a doctor I've never seen anything remotely like it.”

  “I know it's early days, Doc, but do you know if Miss Lomas will still be able to have children?” Roach cut in, recalling the threat passed on to Lomas at the church. Hawkins too had latched onto this and was happy for Roach to take the lead.

  “Why do you ask?” Sutton wanted to know, almost sounding suspicious.

  “Because Miss Lomas was threatened by an individual a short time ago regarding the well-being of any children she might have, and if this is a direct result of that threat then we'll need to take action against the perpetrator quickly. If there's any permanent damage this could even turn into an involuntary manslaughter charge.” Hawkins was impressed by her quick thinking. They both waited for a response.

  “That's something else we find perplexing” said Sutton, sounding genuinely confused. “The delivery was...difficult, to say the least. After it was complete, we did an ultrasound to check for anything that might have been left behind, you could say.”

  “Like a twin?” Sutton looked at Roach and answered her with a shrug.

  “Or a womb” he said finally. Hawkins furrowed his brow but said nothing. Roach, on the other hand, was mortified.

  “Excuse me?” Her voice had risen a couple of octaves. “You're saying she hasn't even got a womb? So how in the hell did she get pregnant in the first place?” Sutton just sat there, shaking his head.

  “Your guess is as good as mine” he conceded. “We'll have to do more extensive examinations to find out why but to answer your question concisely, then no, she will not be able to bear any children.”

  “Does she know yet?” Hawkins asked quietly.

  “Miss Lomas is conscious but like I said she's quite ill and therefore in no fit state to receive such news. She'll be told in due course, when I feel she's able to withstand the shock. And I must stress I want no police intervention at this time; if you want to speak to her then it'll have to wait.”

  “Absolutely” Roach agreed. “Thank you for your help, Doctor Sutton – we'll see ourselves out.”

  “So, the legacy of Andrew Mills the child murderer lives on” Hawkins said without a trace of humour as he and Roach drove away from the hospital back towards Ferryhill.

  *

  “Is it really necessary to do this now?” Smith moaned, the edge of his shovel struggling to break through the frozen ground beneath it. Sykes lent a few more blows with a pickaxe and the surface gave way. He then continued to use the tool as a prop and lit up a cigarette.

  “Reverend Boyd felt that this was the best time to go through with it so yes, it's necessary” said Hawkins, not entirely chuffed himself at standing in the middle of a pitch black field just off the Thinford roundabout half past ten at night, but he knew it was something that needed to be done and far better they got it over with now. “Sykes has broke the ground for you so it's not like it'll take forever. Now stop twisting and get shovelling.”

  “Damn spooky, this is. I feel like a wrong 'un.” Smith was making better progress now he'd reached slightly softer ground. “What if somebody sees us?”

  “That's what the tape's up for” said Roach, waving an arm around to indicate the cordon that had been hurriedly erected. Two police cars sat at the perimeter, no blue lights; Hawkins wanted to keep as low a profile as possible while they worked. “And it's easier that we do this now when there's nobody hanging around, as there no doubt would be during the day. An hour's time and you'll be back at home, tucked up in bed” she chided.

  “But why here, exactly? Could we not have buried Mills in the graveyard?” Sykes wanted to know, chucking his cigarette down and stamping it out with his boot.

  “Reverend Boyd says that back in the seven
teenth century, people who were executed either got buried beneath the stobs from which they were hung or at a crossroads” Roach explained. “Apparently their spirit got confused if you buried them near a crossroads so they figured if you want shot of a villain it was the best place to put them. So we dig a hole a few feet deep, stick the box in with Mills' ashes and chuck some quick-dry concrete over the top before filling it back over with soil. Problem solved.”

  “Would have been easier to jump on a ferry at Newcastle and chuck him in the North Sea on the way over to Holland I reckon, but what do I know?” A scathing look from Hawkins got Smith busy with the shovel again.

  It didn't take long for the shallow grave to be completed. Reverend Boyd, dressed in boots, jeans and a heavy winter coat, appeared from one of the patrol cars and made his way across to the burial site. Roach was touched by the respect he afforded Mills, but she would be hard pushed to admit that there was nothing at all she liked about the man. In his last moments, when he finally admitted defeat and readied himself for death a second time, he'd looked for all the world like a scared young boy, terrified of the fate about to befall him. It was the closest to humanity she'd ever seen Mills come and it was impossible not to feel the tiniest amount of sadness for what was ultimately a predicament unleashed upon him by a group of five students who could never have known the chaos it would cause. Now one of them was dead, another still in hospital recovering from his injuries and the lives of the other three were irrevocably changed. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. Roach wondered how Lomas was doing and if she'd yet been given her own devastating news to deal with.

  “You feel sorry for him, don't you?” Parkes said to Roach, her eyes unblinking as she watched Mills' grave being filled up with concrete.