by RR Haywood
His breathing slowed, his heart rate relaxed as his unconscious slowly steals the light from his mind.
‘Ssshh,’ he nudges the dog with his leg, rolling onto his side. She growls again, louder this time snapping him awake instantly.
He sits up, the moonlight creeping in through the window and offering some illumination. Head cocked to one side listening intently. His heart already going like the clappers. He scoots off the bed, standing up slowly and creeping round to the other side. He rests his hand on the dog’s head quietly shushing her so he can listen. She ignores him, eyes fixed on the window and staring hard into the night. He moves over to the side of the window, slowly poking his head round and peering out into the darkness. Nothing there, no movement. The moon is bright and his eyes well-adjusted to the gloom. He sweeps his gaze along the perimeter. All the houses are the same, he can see out beyond them to the surrounding area.
‘What is it?’ He whispers to the dog. There must be a reason why she’s growling. He eases himself through the small chalet, checking out of windows and examining the view he’d already committed to memory. Everything looked the same.
He cracks the front door open and listens. Again nothing. He opens it wider, peering out but keeping his hands firmly on the handle ready to slam it closed.
The dog squeezes past his legs, standing in front of him and growling at the entrance lane. Something must be out there. The monsters, they must be coming down the lane after following his stinky armpits and fetid arse across the valleys and hills.
He tenses up, ready to flee. Monsters are coming; they’re coming to eat the flesh from my bones. Monsters carrying flashlights. No, that’s not right. They don’t carry flashlights, do they?
He stares harder, watching the pinpricks of light getting larger; a dull roar reaches his ears. An engine. Vehicle headlamps shining down the lane. The relief is palpable, other people, other survivors. But it’s the middle of the night, why are they driving in the night when it’s most dangerous? Unless something is chasing them.
With the thoughts whirling through his mind he urges the dog back inside and closes the door quickly, dropping down and crawling into the bedroom to watch through the window. The dog, recognising the sound of the vehicle felt it could relax but the man’s fear went up. He’s scared and hiding. She stays alert watching Paco as he gradually lifts up to poke his head above the windowsill and watch the lights coming in.
The vehicle pulls into the gravel lane, the lights sweeping across the houses until it does a full loop, stopping by the entrance.
After ducking down and hiding from the lights going past, Paco again peers out the window and watches as the mini-van comes to a stop. Two people get out, both male by the looks of their size and build. They stand talking and looking about, the moonlight bathing them in an eerie glow which just increases the tension Paco feels.
One of the men lights a cigarette, causing Paco to break out in panic at the smell it will produce. Knowing the monsters can smell and track them from a great distance. One of the men says something, the other laughs. The sound is weird, not just laughing but drunken guffawing. They both laugh as one lifts a bottle to his lips and takes a big swig. The one without the bottle goes to the back of the van, opening the doors and leaning inside. He drags another person out. A woman with her hands tied behind her back. She screams and cries out, both the men laugh again and push her roughly to the floor.
Between them, the men manhandle the woman to the centre of the grass, near the fire pit. After dumping the woman on the ground they stand talking and sharing the bottle, passing it between them and tilting their heads back taking long gulps.
Paco watches with a feeling of dread growing in his stomach at the sight of the woman writhing on the ground. These men must have known this place was here. He curses himself softly, knowing it was too good to be true. Why can’t they go somewhere else? Everyone has been turned into goddamn monsters, there’s loads of empty houses. Why here?
The men laugh noisily, the sounds easily drifting over to Paco and the dog. He watches as they start breaking up a wooden chair, smashing into smaller pieces and piling the bits into the fire pit. Great, Paco thinks, they’re settling in for a sing-song round the campfire, fucking toasting marshmallows.
One of the men goes back to the van, coming back with another bottle. He screws the lid off and pours some of the contents over the broken wood, lighting a match and flicking it down. The liquor ignites instantly, showering them in the golden glow from the flames.
One is big and fat. Standing over six feet in height with a great big gut straining against some kind of English football shirt. The other is skinny, wearing a vest and shorts and covered in tattoos. They both look like tough men as they stand there smoking and laughing.
Watching them, Paco almost forgets about the girl until the fat guy reaches down and drags her to her feet. She tries to pull away but he grabs at a length of rope dangling from her bound wrists, laughing as she tries to pull away and yanking her round in circles until she falls to the floor. Both men find this hilarious and quickly get the woman back to her feet and make her do it again, running round and round until she falls down crying and sobbing.
The fat man pulls her up again, this time he doesn’t spin her round but pulls her into him. Turning her round so her back is pressed against his fat stomach. Paco’s own stomach drops as his hands come round her front, roughly squeezing her breasts. The skinny guys laughs, egging him on. The fat man carries on for a few seconds, the girl writhing and begging them to stop. He laughs as he takes both his hands and rips her top off, tearing the material and exposing her breasts.
The atmosphere charges instantly. Paco’s heart sinks as he realises what they’re going to do. Right in front of him too. She screams as the fat man grabs at her naked breasts, squeezing them harder and harder until her knees give out and she drops down. He laughs and pulls her head into his groin, bucking back and forth as the skinny guy clutches his sides laughing at the sight.
An image of the girl in the trailer flashes through Paco’s mind. On her knees in front of him. Just like that girl. The thought makes him feel sick. Overwhelmingly disgusted at himself and mankind for what they do.
The fat man pushes her away violently. Taking the bottle from the other guy he takes a long glug and spits it down onto her face.
‘Oi you cunt, don’t fuckin’ waste it,’ the skinny man shouts.
‘She’s thirsty ain’t she? ‘Ere love, you thirsty are ya?’ The fat man leers, taking another mouthful and spraying it down onto her.
‘I’ll get another one if you’re spittin’ it about,’ skinny man shouts.
‘Go on then, not like we ain’t got enough is it,’ the fat man roars back, clearly showing who the leader of the pair is. The skinny man walks off, heading back to the van. ‘Take ya pants off darlin’, things are gonna get interestin,’ the fat man nudges the woman with his foot.
‘She’s got her fuckin’ hands tied ain’t she,’ the skinny man shouts, walking back with another bottle.
‘Oh yeah,’ the fat man laughs, ‘she still looks thirsty to me, she look thirsty to you?’
‘I reckon she does yeah,’ the skinny man replies.
‘Hold her ‘ead, we’ll give her a drink…go on take her fackin’ ‘ead will ya, fackin’ ‘ell, that’s it, hold her tight, ‘ere are love, go on have a drink on me,’ they both laugh as the fat man holds the lip of the bottle to her mouth and gently upends it. The liquid pouring into her mouth as she chokes and gasps. They keep going, giving her a second to breath before doing it again. After a few minutes they get bored as the fat man’s hand drops to her breasts, kneading and rubbing away, forgetting about the bottle.
‘You gonna do her?’ The skinny man asks excitedly.
‘Course I fackin’ am, get her pants off will ya,’ the fat man staggers back, drunkenly pulling his football shirt off and shrugging his shorts down. His erect penis looks tiny against the bulk off his stomach and
fat thighs.
‘Oh no,’ Paco whispers, his heart breaking at the sight. He wants to turn away but he remains rooted to the spot. Cursing himself for being a coward and not doing something.
Skinny man twists the girl round and starts pulling her jeans off, she tries to wriggle but he pushes one foot down onto her stomach, lifting her feet up and laughing as he tugs the material at her ankles. She tries fighting but the jeans come off.
‘She ain’t got no knickers on,’ the skinny guy shouts, ‘you ‘ear that? The slag ain’t got no knickers on.’
‘She fackin’ wants it she does,’ the fat man shouts, his voice now low and hoarse with the flush of excitement at the naked woman lying in front of him.
‘Please…’ she says the first clear word since arriving, her voice soft and terrified. Paco winces at the sound, his eyes screwing shut, his hands gripping the windowsill. The dog senses his anguish and growls softly.
‘Please…no….please…don’t do this to me….’
‘Shut up you fackin’ slut, you want some cock don’t ya? Yeah that’s why you got no panties on’ the fat man drops down onto his knees, his stomach wobbling with the impact sent juddering up through his legs. He grabs her ankles and draws her towards him. Skinny guy half laughing and watching with clear excitement.
‘I’m begging you, please…oh my god! Please…’ She screams in pain as the fat man thrusts into her. The muscles in Paco’s arms bulge from his grip on the windowsill. Dropping his head he prays this is a nightmare, end this now. Please end this now.
‘Oh god please no!...’ She screams out as the fat man ruts away, his swollen gut crushing her as he props his props his body up on his arms, sweat dripping from his chin onto her writhing face.
‘Please…Mummy…’ she yells in such terror that something in Paco snaps. The poor girl calling for her mother is too much, and he stands up, striding towards the front door.
‘Get your hands off her,’ he bellows, wrenching the door open and striding outside. Skinny guy turns stunned as the fat man slowly twists his head round, poised mid thrust.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ the fat man asks belligerently. The fear hits Paco again, suddenly realising what he’s doing. Standing and confronting two tough looking men. This isn’t the movies Paco; they don’t just stop when you yell something.
‘I said…get off her,’ he yells again but the power has drained from his voice, his legs feeling suddenly weak and shaky.
‘Fack off,’ the fat man shouts, ‘wait ya turn, fackin yank cunt, sort him out Steve.’ He carries on thrusting away, laughing at the look on Paco’s face as he stands there bewildered and clearly shitting himself.
The sound of glass smashing snaps Paco’s head to the skinny guy, stood there holding the remains of the bottle by the neck. The jagged ends facing towards Paco as he starts advancing.
‘You want some yank do ya? Come on then…come on you fuckin’ yank cunt…’
‘Hey guy just take it easy,’ Paco steps back raising one hand to wave at the man. Steve speeds up, waving the bottle left to right as he shouts goadingly at Paco.
‘Big cunt like you backin’ away like a pussy, come on you fucker,’ the skinny man shouts louder, his voice harsh and brutal.
A black shadow flits past Paco’s legs as the dog charges the man down. Hearing the aggression in his voice she doesn’t hesitate, crossing the grass within seconds and using the same method she learnt with the things. Slamming her body weight into his chest, knocking him flat over before sinking her teeth into his throat and ragging her neck violently, tearing his jugular to pieces. Skinny guy’s screams end abruptly as his windpipe is severed.
‘Jesus,’ Paco says stunned.
‘Fack me,’ the fat man shouts, rolling off the girl and crawling away towards his shorts. The dog releases the skinny man after shaking him about like a rag doll. She backs away growling at the body as though daring it to get back up. She turns slowly, fixing her eyes on the fat man crawling away.
‘Ere mate, sort your fackin’ dog out will ya,’ he screams in alarm, getting to his feet to pull his shorts on, his penis already flaccid from the sudden turn of events.
Paco walks forward as though in a dream. Looking down at the remains of the skinny guy and the dog stalking towards the fat man.
‘Have her for fuck’s sake, we’s only ‘aving a laugh…Jesus mate…call your fackin’ dog off will ya.’
‘It’s not my dog,’ Paco replies stupidly, ‘I don’t know her name.’
‘Well whose fackin’ dog is it then?’ The fat man shouts.
‘I don’t know,’ Paco can’t believe he’s having this conversation. His eyes flicking back to the wound in Steve’s neck. He’d seen the bodies in the house and the one the dog took down in the street but they were monsters with red eyes. This was a normal man; he was speaking just a few seconds ago. His eyes fall on the girl, lying there naked and staring at him in shock. Her legs still bent from the position the fat man forced her into. She looks young, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old at the most. Her fingers twitch as though reaching out for him. His mind flushes with the very recent memory of her screaming for her mother, the instinctive calling for the protection of the one person who has always cared for her.
His eyes rise slowly, settling on the fat man. Something on Paco’s face sends a signal, causing the fat men to freeze.
For days now he’s been living with fear. Terror has consumed him, driven all other thoughts from his mind. He’s been unable to function apart from the one urgent pressing need to survive and flee, believing he was just an actor and not capable of defending himself or fighting. But all those action films and every one of them had instructors showing him what to do, how to fight, how to drop a man, break his arm, break his legs, snap bones. He was taught how to punch, how to kick, what strikes to use. Pre-filming training kept him in the gym for hours every day, sparring with experts. He became adept at the close quarters fighting techniques so valued by the studios these days. His trademark moves used in nearly every film. He was strong, fit and despite the fear that ate him up, he was skilled.
Paco strides forward, his long legs eating the ground as he crossed the grass towards the fat man, the dog pacing with him at his side.
‘Ease up mate…fackin’ ‘ell mate…no hard feelings eh? ‘Ere, you’re that fackin’ actor ain’t ya, what is it? Paco Maguire, yeah…fackin’ hell.’ The fat man stops backing away, grinning like an idiot before clocking the intense look on Paco’s face. He tensed up, full of alcohol and bravado. A veteran of many pub fights and football ground melees. Waiting for Paco to get closer he suddenly lunges forward, yelling loudly and flailing his fists towards Paco’s head.
Paco’s guard is up, blocking the punches, striding in close he delivers several snappy punches to the fat stomach, driving the man back. Paco lashes out, hammering his fists into the man’s face. Stepping round his training kicks in as he goes for the trademark move of so many of his films. Slamming his foot down on the back of a knee, forcing the man down. Paco quickly wraps his left arm round the man’s head pulling him in close. With every ounce of strength he grips the head, twisting to the side while pushing down. The spinal column snaps, breaking his neck.
With anger driving his actions he thinks something is wrong, the man is still moving. He heard the bone break, why is he still moving? He twists the head again, back the other way and roaring with power as he wrenches it back and forth, killing the man over and again.
He drops the body, realising the dog has a firm grip of one fat calf and is busy tearing it to shreds, jerking the body round. As it drops to the ground the dog drives in, going for the throat and ripping it out before dropping back low and growling.
He just killed a man. Killed him with his bare hands. He looks down at his arms in horror and awe at what he’s done. The instant conflict raging through his mind. Murder. He wanted to kill the man and he did. That’s murder. He intended it to be done; he wanted to end the life of this man.
Staggering round he spots the woman sat up, holding her knees to her chest and staring at the ground. He remembers what the fat man did and the guilt goes as quickly as it came.
He walks over to her, unsure of what to do. Hesitating and flapping his arms. She stares motionless at the ground, seemingly unaware of his presence.
‘Hey, you okay?’ He asks, cursing himself for another stupid question. She’s naked, having just been raped. Do you think she’s okay?
He drops down, edging closer to the girl. She doesn’t flinch or shy away like they do in the movies. She just sits there, staring with wide eyes, unblinking, unmoving.
‘We need to get you inside,’ he says softly. She doesn’t move, not a flutter. ‘Listen, I’m gonna carry you okay? I’ll take you inside so you can clean up…I promise I won’t hurt you.’ He gently pushes one arm under her knees and wraps her other round her back, lifting her easily and carrying her across the grass to the house.
Inside he takes her to the bedroom, gently lowering her down onto the covers and pulling them over her. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t whimper. Not a single reaction.
‘I’ll get you some water okay?’ He moves into the kitchen, filling a glass and finding the washing up bowl, he fills it with water and grabs a cloth from the side. Rushing back into the room he puts the bowl down and gently lifts the girl up, pressing the glass into her hands.
‘Come on honey, have some water,’ he urges softly. She responds, grasping the glass and pulling it to her mouth, drinking quickly while staring at him with the same wide eyes.
‘You’re gonna be okay kid, they’re gone now…you need to clean up, there’s water and a cloth here…I’ll be right outside if you need me,’ his deep American voice seems to sooth the girl. Her hand reaching out as he goes to leave.