“That’s what naughty boys get,” he said, making his way down the darkened passageway. Before starting his ascent to the higher floors, Klaws opened the doors to all the cells on his floor. “I can be naughty, too!” he said, sniggering. “Ho-ho-ho, Merry Christmas!” he bellowed before making his way up the steel steps.
He heard other prisoners shuffle out of their cages behind him – some whooped and cheered as they opened their doors to freedom. “Thanks, Santa!” one called. “That’s just what I wanted for Christmas!” another yelled.
“My pleasure, children!” Klaws called back. “Just remember to be good alllll year round!”
On the second floor, which was still way below the surface, Klaws killed both guards and freed the prisoners housed there before making his way upward once again. When he approached the third floor, a heavy door barred his way, but that was of no problem – he still had the set of keys.
Once through that door, familiar sounds filled his ears, along with blaring sirens in the distance. Frantic distress calls for guards, nurses and doctors came flooding over the Tannoy speakers, which caused Klaws to giggle. “What an exciting Christmas Eve,” he said, watching hospital personnel dash around in utter panic.
Looking up the long corridor, Klaws spotted a nurse being pinned to the floor by three escapees. As one held her, another ripped her uniform off. This left the third man to dispose of her shoes, tights and knickers.
“Ho-ho-ho!” Klaws cried. “Merry Christmas!” he concluded, before stalking off. When he came to another locked door, he used the keys once again. As he neared the main door, two armed guards pounced on him.
One of them managed to press a taser device to his back whilst the other started clubbing him with a baton. They forced him to one knee before he managed to grab the arm holding the shock gun. He yanked and forced the one guard to taser his colleague, who yelped and collapsed to the floor. As he rolled around holding his guts, Klaws set on the other man.
“Please!” he had time to say before Klaws rammed the stun gun into the chubby man’s mouth. Klaws triggered the gun, and the man’s whole mouth lit-up. Smoke billowed out his nostrils and the air filled with a charred, fleshy smell.
When the man became floppy in his grip, he let the body hit the floor with a cataclysmic thud. Before leaving the building via the main entrance, Klaws stamped on the other guard’s throat, thus crushing the man’s windpipe, causing him to die within minutes.
Once outside, he stood in the night breeze for a full five minutes before moving on. It felt good to have the wind tousle his hair and lick his skin.
It wasn’t hard to find the limo, which was parked in the visitor’s car park. The car was huge, black and sleek. The moonlight radiated off the paintwork in a mesmerizing way. Where are my deer? he wondered.
Going to the driver’s side of the limo, Klaws noticed the window glide down a crack. “Get in!” a voice demanded.
He didn’t care for the arsehole’s tone. He wanted nothing more than to punch a hole in the glass and break the driver’s neck. But he knew he couldn’t do that – he needed this person’s help to get him to where he was supposed to go. Begrudgingly, he went to the back door and got in.
Klaws sat in silence as the car pulled away. Before him, on a shelf, was a line of alcohol bottles. Pulling a gin bottle free, he uncapped it and started downing the hard spirit. When the bottle was empty, he threw it to one side and grabbed the letter that was taped to a whiskey container. “Klaws” was written across the plain white envelope.
Pulling the letter free, he read it with disinterest. Finishing it, he crumpled it into a ball and threw it – it bounced off the screen which divided the front and back of the expensive car. “That fucker better know where he’s going!” Klaws slurred. “I have a lot of presents to deliver this evening.”
When the car broke hard, Santa Klaws woke up and wiped the drool out of his beard. “Where…where am I?!” he yelled, then became startled as the car’s intercom burst to life.
“You’ve reached your destination. If you could kindly get out, that would be most appreciated!” the driver barked.
Through foggy eyes, Klaws looked out his window. He could see the café. All the lights appeared to be on inside, but there were no cars in the car park, apart from one. Probably Hob’s, he thought.
“Get out!” the voice boomed over the intercom again.
This enraged Klaws, who sat up and put his fist through the glass divider. The driver shrieked as he was pulled back as far as his belt would allow. “Not nice, not nice, not nice!” Klaws repeated over and over again as he crushed the man’s head between his enormous hands.
Bones crunched, and blood trickled out of the driver’s ears and nose.
When he stopped thrashing, Klaws pushed the man away from him before getting out of the car. He closed the door with a heavy thud, which rocked the limo on its chassis. I’ll take the car later, he thought.
Smiling, he stepped up to the door of the café.
A bell jingled as he entered.
When he saw the limo pull into the car park, Hob had felt slightly relieved because he knew this whole situation would be over and done within the next thirty or forty minutes. But when he saw the car rocking violently, an icy nest of vipers settled in his guts.
All was not well.
This was further stressed when Hob latched his sights on the man dubbed ‘Santa Klaws’ – his hands looked as though they had been dipped into a bucket of red paint. The crimson trails climbed his arms to his elbows, with patches of the stuff all over his hospital fatigues.
“He looks like a mountain!” Hob uttered, watching the man approach the door. He’s that tall, Hob thought, that his trousers look like hot pants. The closer he got, Hob could see a line of bloody freckles across the bridge of the man’s nose.
When the doorbell chimed, Hob came out of his trance and smiled. “You must be Santa?” he said, putting his hand out for the man to shake. When the offered hand was taken, Hob instantly regretted it. The blood was still fresh on the man’s hand, which engulfed Hob’s hand and left a sticky, gooey mess. The grip was vice-like, and Hob thought his bones would fold under the extreme pressure. “Nice to meet you!” he said between gritted teeth.
Klaws grunted in reply.
“Well, I’m sure you’re eager to be on your way. There’s a plate of food for you over there, along with a letter. Once you’re done, I’ll show you were you can get cleaned up.”
This time, Klaws said nothing, just looked straight through Hob.
“If you’d like to sit down…” the café owner tried pushing.
But still Klaws didn’t move, just continued to stare, unblinking.
Slowly, Hob backed away. His vision caught sight of Rosie. “I’ll be in the back if you need me,” he said, continuing to retreat.
The mist seemed to clear from Klaws’ vision, and so he nodded before turning to go to his table.
A sigh escaped Hob. Thank God for that, he thought as he retreated into the kitchen. From there, he watched as the big man sat at one of his tables and grabbed the letter. He tore it open with such viciousness that Hob thought there would be nothing left, just confetti.
The contents of the letter didn’t appear to grab his attention, as he looked at it briefly before throwing it to one side. Shaking is head, a smile spread across his face – this one’s a right fucking weirdo, Hob thought.
But the smile was short-lived, as he watched Santa Klaws eat his food with his bare hands. He rammed bacon and sausages into his mouth like a wild animal. Once the meat was gone, he picked the plate up and angled it. He then let the beans slide off it and into his mouth. With the plate empty, he threw it against the wall.
This caused Hob to jump back. That’s it, he thought. This freak is leaving now! Storming out of the kitchen, Hob grabbed Rosie and the rest of Santa Klaws’ belongings. “I think it’s time you were on your way, pal,” he said, tossing the bag onto the table where Klaws sat.
“Hey, dickhead!” Hob said, jabbing the big man with the end of the clubbing instrument. “I said it’s time to leave! Get up and start walking, pal. Everything you need is in that bag.”
Still the man didn’t move.
“Look, I’ve tried to be as decent as I can with you, but I’m starting to lose my rag!” Hob said, giving the man a few extra hard pokes in the arm with the bat. “You come in here, take my food, then start smashing my stuff – uh-huh, I’m not having it. Up!” Hob barked.
Santa turned his head to one side and looked up at Hob. A low growl formed in his throat. Slowly, he got up. Hob backed away.
“Don’t come any closer!” the restaurateur said, fear evident in his tone. “I’m not afraid of taking you down,” he threatened.
The jukebox kicked to life as Hob’s back found it. He held the bat out in front of him. “Please, get back!” he shouted, swinging the sports instrument.
But this didn’t stop Klaws. He caught a hold of the bat in mid-swipe and ripped it out of the café owner’s hands. He then threw the bat to one side, grabbed Hob by his hair and shoulder, and then spun him in a circle.
“Hob, what’s going on down there?!” a voice called.
“Bella! Help! Call the police!”
“Hob?!” Bella called back, her voice frantic.
Hob heard footfalls drawing closer to him.
“Don’t come down here, Bella! Please, stay…Aaaargh!” Hob bellowed as his face was driven into the jukebox once, twice, three times. Glass exploded as the machine, along with Hob’s head, was destroyed.
“Jesus! Hob!” Bella cried, which was followed by the sound of her rushing footfalls.
With Hob’s head inside the player, he stayed upright – shards of glass held him in place. Blood pooled at his feet as it pissed out the bottom of his trouser legs.
Klaws couldn’t help but watch the body until it stopped twitching. Like a fish on a hook, he thought, smiling.
It was only when the woman started to shriek that Klaws managed to break his gaze. Turning, he saw the fat woman run for the kitchen. He stalked after her and cornered her by the stove.
She had a cleaver in her fat, shaking paw. “You get the fuck away from me, or I’ll cut you in two! Bastard!”
Klaws avoided the woman’s pathetic attempt at slicing him open, as he grabbed her wrist and broke it. She yelped, but screamed when her elbow and shoulder both blew from his roughhousing.
“P…P…P…” she tried to speak between staggered sobs. “I…I…Arrgh!” she yelled when her ruptured arm was forced behind her back. She instinctively stood on her toes as she tried to pull away from the pain.
But he had her pinned like a bunny in a snare.
“No…” she pleaded on seeing Klaws lift a pot from off a lit hob. The water within the cooking utensil bubbled with heat. Piss ran down the inside of her legs and splashed the white tiles that helped make up the kitchen’s pristine flooring.
All she had time to do was gasp as her face was drenched with scalding water. Bella could hardly thrash, either, as he had her squashed against the kitchen worktops. After a couple of seconds, Klaws tossed the pot to one side and threw the fat bitch across the kitchen.
Little of her face remained. The flesh had fallen away, dissolved. She screamed and screamed, but this did little to stop the wannabe Father Christmas, as he grabbed a rolling pin off a worktop and took to her with it.
Blood spewed up the walls as he clubbed her about the face and body. He savagely grunted and growled as he put the work and effort in. After beating her to within an inch of her life, the dough pin snapped in two, forcing him to stop.
Enraged, he turned all the oven hobs on before scooping her up and throwing her down onto the naked flames. Bella didn’t react, as she was practically dead.
As he walked out of the kitchen, he heard her go up with a whooping sound. Going back to where Hob ‘stood’, Klaws picked up the baseball bat and his bag from off the table.
By the time he reached the limo, Hob’s Café was engulfed in flames and black smoke. The windows blew outwards, casting the car park in tiny shards of glass.
Klaws smiled as he opened the door and pulled the driver out. I’ll just leave the cunt here! he decided. Getting behind the wheel, he threw the bat and bag onto the seat beside him. He didn’t have time to look through things just yet – he could already hear sirens in the distance.
By putting the limo into gear, Klaws pulled away from the crumbling café. He smiled as he looked in the rear-view mirror and saw sections of it fall to the ground.
“Ho-ho-ho! Merry Christmas,” he said before turning the radio on.
THE FIRST ARRIVAL…
When the bus finally pulled into the depot at Porthcawl, Sam felt massively relieved. She hadn’t expected such an unhampered journey, what with her escape from Castell Hirwaun.
Surely they know I’m gone by now? Where are the roadblocks? The armed guards?
Nothing.
The trip from Hirwuan had been peaceful. When she’d first got on the bus, nobody had occupied it apart from the driver. Having chosen the backseats, she’d lain down and drifted off into a peaceful, relaxing sleep – the nightmares, thankfully, had stayed away.
When she’d awoken, the bus had been leaving Bridgend, a town situated a few miles outside of Porthcawl. The sun had been high in the sky, with most of the seats on the bus filled.
She’d felt slightly silly, waking up with so many people looking at her. Drool had found its way into her hair, but she’d not wanted to clean it out with so many eyes on her.Thirty minutes after that, the bus had arrived at the seaside town, to which the driver announced, “If you’re going farther, you’ll need to change here, people!”
The morning sun was strong as she got off the bus. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so free, so at peace. The sea air filled her nostrils as gulls swooped and squawked above her. Whatever happens, I’m not going back, she thought. I’ll die first. And that’s more than likely going to be the outcome, if I’m going to be seeing Crystal later.
If I go down, that bitch is coming with me!
As she walked away from the depot, Sam headed for the seafront. From there, she was able to get her bearings.
Passing a clock, she noticed it was only eight o’clock – what am I going to do for the next twelve hours? I can’t very well lug this stuff around all day, she thought. I could check in to a hotel? Whoever sent me those letters also supplied me with cash. I could use it to get a room. I wasn’t told any different.
Once on the seafront, Sam looked about her. The streets were dead. The fairground was deserted. Apart from a few seagulls here and there, Sam was practically alone. Not many cars passed her, either. The place seemed like a ghost town. The thought made her shiver.
Pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind, Sam scanned the signposts and saw that the town of Porthcawl was to her left. Sam followed the directions and soon found herself in a small street crowded with shops, cafes and newsagents. Some had already opened for business, whilst other shops and windows remained dark.
Confused as to which way to go next, her eyes fell on a little coffee shop by the name of Almond Croissant, which was showing signs of life. Hmm, I could sit and have a coffee, she thought. I’m sure the owner or one of the staff members will know of a decent B&B or hotel.
Yes, good idea.
Moving quickly to the shop, Sam took a seat inside and waited for the young blonde waitress to come to her table. “A black coffee, please,” Sam ordered. The young girl smiled and nodded before turning on her heel and heading for the kitchen.
Sam could hear coffee pots, cups and spoons rattling in the distance. A thick aroma of coffee clung to the air. In that moment, she felt normal. Well, as normal as normal can feel, she thought as she took in the quaint décor of the coffee shop.
Whimsical paintings of boats at sea dotted the walls,
along with others depicting trawlers and such anchored at bays and harbours. Other portraits consisted of flowers and cottages, which were soothing to look at.
The paintings worked well with the calming colour schemes of the walls along with a flowery border. All the tablecloths, seatbacks and covers, placemats, cutlery and salt and pepper shakers matched – nothing seemed out of place.
As the staff prepped the drinks and food behind the scenes, they listened to a radio, which Sam could pick up on. The words and music were very faint over the sound of the general hustle and bustle of the working café.
“One coffee!” the waitress said, placing it in front of Sam. “Is there anything else I can get you? The sugar is here on the table.”
“Oh, er…No, that will be all, thank you,” Sam replied as she looked down at the coffee and complimentary biscuit, which was placed on the saucer next to the cup. Picking the offering up, Sam proceeded to open the foil packet which encased it. Before she put the treat into her mouth, it suddenly dawned on her – there was something else.
“Erm, excuse me?” she called after the waitress.
“Yes?” the young girl said, turning to face Sam. For the first time, Sam noticed a tiny croissant emblem on her polo shirt – the words “Almond Croissant” were written above it in an arch.
“Could you tell me if there’s a B&B close by?”
“Yes, there’s one just around the corner. Cheap, too!”
“That’s brilliant. Where can I find it?”
“If you take a left when you leave here, you’ll see B&M at the bottom of the street – walk to that shop and take another left. The B&B will be there on your left. It’s called The Anchor. You can’t miss it,” the waitress said, smiling.
“Thank you, you’ve been most helpful.”
“No problem!”
When the waitress returned to the kitchen, Sam was once again left with her thoughts. As she slowly chewed her biscuit, she thought of Crystal. I wonder if she’s here yet? The letter promised I’d come face-to-face with her tonight.
Escapees and Fevered Minds Page 7