by Shaun Hutson
He whispered her name under his breath, his eyes finally alighting on the piece of paper propped up on the draining board beside the sink.
He strode across and snatched it up, examining the large, almost child-like, letters. As he read the words he felt his body beginning to quiver.
COME TO THE SCOOL
COME AND GET YOUR
FUCKING WIFE.
Ninety-one
Why hadn’t the alarm gone off?
It was a curious thought, but one which nevertheless occurred to Hacket as he paused by the main door of the school, peering through the glass into the gloom beyond.
He could see smashed glass inside where his wife’s kidnapper had broken in, but the alarm obviously hadn’t gone off. He must have disabled it first, the teacher reasoned, pushing the door tentatively, wincing as it creaked slightly on its hinges. He slipped inside and stood in the entryway, ears alert for the slightest movement. The silence was chokingly oppressive. Like the darkness through which he moved, the solitude seemed almost palpable, holding him back from his quest.
Sue was in the building somewhere, along with the man who had abducted her. At least Hacket assumed it was a man. Just who it could be he didn’t know. All he wanted to know was that she was alive. The questions could come later.
He gripped the carving knife he’d taken from the kitchen and made his way down the corridor to his left, peering into each darkened classroom in turn.
There was no sign of her.
He paused for a moment, aware of the burning pain coming from his wounds. But then he pressed on, checking the next corridor.
It was also empty.
Sandwiched between the two was the library.
Hacket pushed open one door and stepped inside, glancing around, squinting through the blackness.
He passed through the library quietly, as if preserving the usual reverence for a room normally silent. There was no sign of Sue in there either.
He wandered back up the corridor towards the dining room.
As he wandered around it the questions began to fill his mind.
Why had she been taken?
When?
By whom?
For what purpose?
Hacket leant against a door frame and sucked in a weary breath. There were so many questions. His head was spinning.
Was she still alive?
Was the child still alive? …
The child…
He shuddered as he thought about it, about what had happened at Curtis’ house.
A noise from above him interrupted the whirlwind of questions spinning around in his head.
He pushed open the double doors which led through into the assembly hall. Hacket hurried across the varnished floor towards another set of double doors.
Beyond these were the stairs that led up to the first floor of the school.
He heard the sound again and slowed his pace, gripping the carving knife more tightly.
Hacket ascended slowly, eyes fixed ahead of him. He stumbled as he reached the half-way point, cursing when pain from the wound in his forearm shot through him. He turned a corner, trying to control his harsh breathing and the thudding of his heart.
He reached the top of the stairs and pushed the next set of double doors.
Four rooms faced him.
He checked them one by one.
Through the window in the door of the third room he saw Sue.
She was naked, tied to a chair, a gag stuffed unceremoniously into her mouth.
Hacket tried the door and, to his delight found it was unlocked.
He blundered in, tears filling his eyes.
She looked up and saw him but the look was not one of relief but one of horror.
Her eyes bulged and she shook her head.
‘It’s all right,’ he whispered as he crossed to her.
She continued to shake her head, nodding towards him.
Towards him?
Her eyes were not on him but on something behind him.
As he reached for the gag he heard a metallic click.
The sound of a hammer being thumbed back.
‘I’ve been waiting.’
Hacket spun round as he heard the voice.
‘Drop the fucking knife.’
Hacket obeyed, watching as Ronald Mills stepped from the shadows, the .38 aimed at the teacher’s head.
Ninety-two
‘Get over there,’ Mills snapped, motioning to the desk opposite Sue.
Hacket did as he was told, his eyes on the large man who held the pistol on him.
Sue moaned beneath the gag as another particularly powerful stab of pain lanced through her.
‘Who are you?’ Hacket wanted to know, watching as Mills moved towards Sue.
The big man removed her gag, pulling it free roughly.
‘Tell him who I am,’ he snapped, the gun still aimed at Hacket.
Sue hesitated, her words choked away by sobs.
‘Tell him,’ rasped Mills, pulling her hair.
‘You bastard,’ snapped Hacket and took a step forward but Mills levelled the pistol at arm’s length, drawing a bead on a point between the teacher’s eyes.
‘Tell him who I am,’ Mills repeated. ‘Tell him what I did.’
‘He killed Lisa,’ Sue sobbed, tears running down her cheeks.
‘Oh Christ,’ murmured Hacket, his voice low.
‘Does the name Peter Walton ring a bell?’ Mills said.
Hacket didn’t, couldn’t answer.
‘I’m talking to you, cunt,’ Mills snarled. ‘Peter Walton. Do you remember him? What happened to him?’
Hacket exhaled deeply, the feelings of frustration, helplessness and fear filling him in equal proportions.
‘He was killed. Fell under a train,’ Hacket whispered.
‘No. You murdered him. I saw you. I saw you chasing him. Saw you push him.’
‘He slipped. I didn’t touch him.’
‘You wanted to.’
‘Fucking right,’ snarled·Hacket. ‘And if I could I’d have put you under that fucking train with him, you animal.’
Mills tugged hard on Sue’s hair, the gun still aimed at Hacket.
‘You better shut your fucking mouth, Hacket,’ he rasped.
‘What are you trying to do to us? It’s me you want. Let my wife go.’
‘Fuck you. If she suffers, you suffer. You’ll get your turn, don’t worry but I want you to see her die first. Just like I had to watch you kill Walton. He was the only friend I ever had. The only person I ever trusted or cared about. Who cared about me.’ He shouted the last sentence. ‘And you murdered him.’
‘The police will come,’ Hacket said, desperate for any idea which might save them. ‘You’ll be caught, perhaps even killed.’
‘What do I care? At least you’ll have died before me.’
‘Just tell me one thing,’ Hacket said. ‘Why did you kill Lisa?’
‘She was there. If it hadn’t been her it would have been another girl. We broke in to rob you. Finding her was just a bonus.’ He grinned broadly and, with his free hand, began unfastening his trousers. ‘Now you watch me, Hacket.’
Sue looked imploringly at her husband, realising that he was as helpless as she to stop this madman. If he rushed Mills then he would either shoot Sue or the teacher himself. There was a chance he might just wound Hacket but, from such close range, Sue was as good as dead. Hacket could do nothing but watch as the big man tugged the rope from Sue’s legs. He saw the red welts where the hemp had cut into her flesh.
‘Open your legs,’ Mills told her, unfastening his trousers to reveal a large erection.
Hacket understood.
‘She’s pregnant for God’s sake,’ he yelled.
‘Shut up, fucker,’ roared. Mills, moving towards Sue. He grabbed her ankles and pulled her forward. He had to bend at the knees to manoeuvre his penis towards her vagina, all the time keeping the gun pointed at Hacket, who sucked in a painful breath.
He began to thrust back and forth.
Sue felt him inside her and she sobbed helplessly, looking at the moon face before her but then she felt more contractions, a movement deep within her belly. Movement which seemed to transfer itself to her vagina.
Hacket looked on helplessly, clenching his fists until the muscles ached.
Dear God, just for one second . . .
Just one clear run at Mills.
Sue moaned aloud.
'I think she's enjoying it,' said Mills, still thrusting hard into her. He grinned again but the smile suddenly dissolved into a look of surprise.
Hacket looked more closely at him.
No, not surprise.
It was pain.
Mills thrust deeply once or twice more then tried to pull away.
But he couldn't.
Pain began to grow around his penis, spreading across his groin.
Sue had stopped crying.
She was smiling now as she watched the pain on the rapist's face.
He tried again to pull away and this time he screamed in agony.
His penis felt as if it were being squeezed inside her vagina. As if her inner muscles were contracting, closing like a fleshy vice. But the pain was sharper than that.
Mills pushed against Sue as the pain grew more intense.
Hacket looked on, mesmerised.
Sue merely continued to smile.
Mills shrieked uncontrollably as he felt the grip inside her vagina increase. As if he was being held by small hands.
The hands of a baby.
He felt pain unlike anything he'd ever experienced. An excruciating agony which almost caused him to faint.
Blood began to pump from Sue's vagina but it was not her blood. Mills was frantic now, desperate to be away from her, from that grip which was mutilating him. His knees buckled and he began to fall.
He fell backwards.
The scream which he uttered was like nothing Hacket had ever heard before. A bellow of absolute suffering torn from the depths of his soul.
As Mills fell onto his back Hacket could see that where the big man's penis had once been there was now only a spurting stump of shredded flesh. The big man put his hands into the wound as if trying to stem the flow of blood and recover his mutilated manhood.
He screamed and screamed, the sound echoing around the classroom, drumming inside Hacket's head as blood spurted from the savage wound. The teacher felt his own vomit clawing its way up from his stomach as he staggered towards his wife, stepping past the writhing shape of Mills but, as he drew closer, Hacket saw the final act of horror and, this time, he could not control himself.
The lips of Sue's vagina slid open and the torn off shaft of Mills' penis was pushed out to drop onto the floor amidst the puddle of blood which had formed there. Like a child spitting out a distasteful piece of food, the vaginal opening yawned wide to expel the remnants of Mills' manhood.
Hacket swayed then turned to one side and vomited until there was nothing left in his stomach.
Sue continued to smile, gazing down at Mills who was still screaming, his yells becoming fainter as the loss of blood gradually sapped his strength and his life gushed away through his fingers.
Hacket freed her, wrapping her in his shirt which he hurriedly pulled off.
Bloodied and dazed they stumbled past Mills.
'We have to get the police,' Hacket gasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Mills' screams had degenerated into low burblings as they staggered out of the room.
Hacket didn't know how long it took a man to bleed to death.
They supported each other down the stairs and out of the school, heading back towards their house, sucking in the cold night air, as if wishing it could wash away the stench of blood and death from their nostrils.
Hacket shivered but he realised that it was not all a product of the cold wind.
Sue, bloodied and barely conscious, looked at him and smiled.
Hacket felt the hairs at the back of his neck rise.
They reached the house and blundered through the back door, Hacket slamming it behind them. Then they struggled through into the sitting room, the teacher slapping on lights as they went.
He froze.
Sitting in one of the armchairs, the stiletto blade held in his hand, was Doctor Edward Curtis.
Ninety-three
For long seconds Hacket couldn't speak, his eyes remained fixed on Curtis.
'My brother is dead, as you may have guessed,' the doctor finally said, his face emotionless.
'It has to end, Curtis,' Hacket said, leaning against the door frame to support himself.
'I agree with you,' the doctor echoed, rising to his feet, the knife held before him.
Sue looked first at her husband then at Curtis.
Then she felt the pain. So powerful she yelled in response
to it.
'Y ou've done this to her,' Hacket screamed. 'God knows what she's carrying. Something like your ... brother? Help her. Abort the baby. Now.'
'No,' Sue moaned, her face twisted into a mask of pain. 'Don't let it die.' She looked imploringly at Curtis. 'Please.' 'Kill it, Curtis,' Hacket snarled. 'It's unnatural.'
Curtis took a step towards Sue, dropping the knife on the sofa.
'I need it,' she said. 'Help it live.' She gripped Curtis' hand a pulled him closer to her.
Hacket stepped forward, pushing the doctor away, slamming him up against the wall, hands clasped around his throat. There was a look of hatred in his eyes. Hatred and something else.
Madness perhaps?
Curtis struggled against Hacker's grip, supported by his hands but dying because of them. His head felt as if it were beginning to swell, and he was fighting for his breath as Hacket dug his thumbs deeper into the doctor's windpipe, lifting him off his feet with the ferocity of his attack.
'Y ou've done this to her,' snarled Hacket, exerting yet more strength on Curtis' throat. 'I'll kill you.' He bellowed the words into the other man's face.
Hacket felt the pain in his lower back first. Like a punch in the kidneys.
Then it came again. Harder this time and he felt the coldness now.
The third time he realised.
Sue drove the stiletto blade into his back, severing his spinal cord.
He lost his grip on Curtis then dropped to his knees. As he did she brought the knife down again.
This time it powered into his neck, severing the carotid artery. A huge fountain of blood erupted from the wound, spattering Sue and spraying the wall of the sitting room crimson as surely as if it had been splashed with red paint.
Hacket turned and looked at her, tears in his eyes, then he fell forward, his body jerking slightly.
Blood filled his mouth and he blinked hard as his vision began to cloud both with pain and tears.
How long would it take a man to bleed to death?
He would have the answer soon.
Curtis looked down at him, massaging his throat, scarcely able to speak.
Sue continued to sob, the knife still in her hands, crimson dripping from its point like thick teardrops.
'Why did you want to kill it, John?' she sobbed. 'Why?'
Hacket tried to speak but the only sound he could make was a liquid gurgle. Blood spilled over his lips, he felt it run from his nostrils. He reached out towards her, wanting to touch her hand, knowing he was dying. Along with the pain there was fear too.
'The child will live, Hacket,' Curtis said, rubbing his bruised throat.
'My child,' Hacket gurgled, but the effort of speaking only brought fresh pain and a massive heaving within his body. He began to shiver.
Curtis smiled down at him.
'No,' he said softly. 'Not your child. My brother's.'
Even through her tears Sue was smiling too.
John Hacket closed his eyes.
Some wounds nev
er heal. Some pain
is never soothed.
Anon
Hatred shouldn't be forgotten. It
should be nurtured. And self-hatred
is the bloom which responds best.
Anon
I have looked into the mirror of madness
and seen my own reflection ...
May 16, 1988