Should Have Killed The Kid

by Frederick Hamilton, R.

  ‘YOU CUNT!’ The words boomed throughout the hotel, unmistakably Marcus’s and Dave dropped the phone again, whimpering as they were abruptly followed by a long drawn out shriek that made Dave want to curl up and sob.

  Dimly he could hear the operator chirping away through the phone but he made no effort to pick it up. He suspected his hands would be shaking too badly to hold it now anyway.

  Got to get out of the hotel. Got to get out of the hotel, the loop repeated endlessly in his head, blotting out everything and Dave started a shambolic run for the door. It felt like an eternity passed before he reached it. An eternity measured by the slow beat of the thumping. Dave almost wept when he reached the hall and realised that he’d left his keys in the bag in his room.

  Although no more than a couple of seconds were wasted as he dashed back to retrieve them, every step of the way felt like he was dooming himself to some horrendous fate.

  The thumping cut off as he went for the stairs. The dead silence that followed was even more oppressive. To his own ears, his footsteps were unbearably loud; his breathing alone enough to alert anyone that he was there. He went down the steps two at time, nearly tumbling in his haste, certain that at any moment he’d see Monty emerge through the plastic drop sheet and turn in his direction.

  He didn’t, though, and Dave stumbled to a halt in front of the drop-sheet, desperately trying to control his harsh gasps as he cracked the plastic sheet and peered through.

  Monty was heading his way, weaving between the tables with a dripping hunk of fire wood in his hand. But that wasn’t what forced the whimper from Dave’s lips. That was what he saw behind the advancing man.

  Bruno lay canted awkwardly across the bar. Dave only recognised the body from the clothes that Bruno had been wearing earlier. The head was unrecognisable. The front collapsed and cratered in until it looked more like a puddle of wet mince than anything vaguely human. At his feet, the younger Gallo lay, mercifully half obscured by a table so that Dave could only see his legs sticking out into the rapidly expanding puddle of blood that flowed from the bar like a torrent.

  Is it heading for the old man? Dave couldn't believe his eyes as the red river ran across the floorboards hot on the heels of Monty as though he were a magnet attracting it.

  Dave gagged and almost vomited as he spun away from the drop-sheet seeking another exit. He couldn't seem to stop whimpering as he shot a quick glance back upstairs but immediately decided that would be a bad idea and headed for the opposite drop sheet instead, his brain reeling, still trying to catch up with the sudden change in events.

  He flailed through into an office of some kind. He took in a couple of desks mounded high with paperwork but apart from that the room was only a blur as he spun three sixty...

  ...Then almost collapsed with relief when he saw the large window. He dashed for it, waiting for the crinkle of plastic behind him, waiting to turn and see Monty glaring at him. Fumbling with the latch took an eternity as Dave started at every creak and groan. The sound of footsteps briefly sent him into overdrive. Even though they sounded like they were heading upstairs Dave had no idea if that was the case.

  Just open the fucking window! he internally roared after his third or fourth glance back.

  He resisted the urge to shatter the glass and after another second of fumbling the latch relented and he slithered through. He tumbled and sprawled awkwardly on the damp ground as his foot caught on the sill. Dave barely felt it though and was on his feet in a second, wheezing as he spun in a quick circle, trying to get his bearings. But the panic didn't give him enough time to even complete one circuit. It demanded motion and Dave obeyed. He took off around the nearest corner of the house, head down, arms flailing, running for all he was worth – although even that still seemed pathetically slow. He just wished it was darker. Wished that the black would swallow him up and give him somewhere to hide.

  He emerged into a vista of trees and as the crunch of gravel sounded beneath his feet he realised he'd gone the wrong way. Realised that he was at the back of the house now. That it lay between him and the Tiida.

  'Shit!' he hissed under his breath, his voice crackling with panic as he tried to think. He ground to a halt a few metres from the flailing sack as the whimpers it was emitting joined his own.

  Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shit... Dave tore at his hair as he spun in a circle, nearly jumping out of his skin as the sack gave a particularly violent kick.

  The sound of breaking glass had him whirling to face the rear of the hotel, his eyes darting up to the window of the upstairs room he'd just abandoned.

  For a brief second, shock keep him pinned to the spot.

  Monty soared down from the second floor, his coat flapping and glass showering around him. The lump of wood – strangely clear of blood now – held up high above his head.

  As he hit the ground and headed toward him, Dave only had time to blink and then think: did that really happen? And then the lump of wood blotted out everything.

  A sickening crunch reached his ears as fireworks exploded throughout his head and Dave crumpled down to the ground next to the squirming sack.

  11.

  He was lying on something hard. That was the limit of what Dave divined when the loud bang of a slamming door woke him. He started and his eyes darted open but only further darkness met his gaze. After that, other things rushed in to occupy his attention. First a pounding throb started up in the base of his skull and he let out a yelp, then the horrendous smell closed around him and Dave struggled to his knees as vomit exploded from his lips. It spattered wetly across the ground while he knelt gagging, the acrid taste of bile in his mouth somehow preferable to the horrendous stink that surrounded him.

  What the fuck is that?

  Dave stayed on his hands and knees, gasping while he tried to think but with the smell and the throbbing in his head, his brain just kept misfiring. He had an image of Monty rushing in, swinging the chunk of wood but beyond that there was nothing.

  Dave reached up his hand and winced as it made contact with his head. Just back and to the right of the forehead, his hair was slick with wetness. A gentle push showed that it felt strangely springy too. The pain that followed almost made him pass out again.

  'Motherfucker!' he hissed and then decided to leave further exploration till later.

  After a few seconds of hawking and spitting in a vain attempt to remove the coating the stench had lent to his throat and sinuses, he staggered to his feet and stood unsteadily swaying in place.

  What the fuck happened? He finally managed to get his brain into gear as the surrounding smell dropped back a few notches. Whether that was from the change of position or just his sinuses finally overloading, Dave didn't know.

  He took a cautious step forward, swayed and almost fell. He'd never tried walking through such complete darkness before. It was like stepping into a void that seemed to throw his balance completely off. Dave held out his hands as he moved forward. The ground squelched a little beneath his feet and Dave winced as his mind, bereft of other stimuli, started to hurl up options for what might be out there lurking in the dark.

  Waiting to rend him limb from...

  'Gah!' Dave barely managed to hold back his scream as his fingers dug into something wet and soggy. It felt like pushing through wet cardboard and Dave quickly recoiled, his heart thundering. He took a step back and shook his hand. A gobbet of something slid free and splattered to the ground and Dave whimpered.

  He could feel that something wet and filmy still clung to his fingers.

  Automatically he brought his fingers to his nose and sniffed. He knew it was a mistake the second before he did so but seemed powerless to stop himself. His sinuses hadn't melted down. That was obvious as the rank stench seared down them, obliterating everything with the sheer strength of its foulness. Dave vomited again, whimpering between gags. As each one rocked his body, his thumping headache jumped up another notch.

  Where am I? What's happening?
<
br />   As if in response to his thoughts, abruptly, everything exploded into bright light.

  Dave did scream this time. He pressed his hands to his face, unconcerned by the muck that coated his fingers as the light seared its way into his brain. The agony it triggered felt as though it would make his head explode and it was a good couple of seconds before he could risk removing his hands again.

  When he saw what lay in front of him, Dave almost wished the sudden light had killed him.

  It was beyond nausea. It was beyond shock. What gripped him as he stared around the strange room was beyond anything Dave had ever felt before. Dimly he heard the creaking of hinges from behind but he barely even focused on it, too riveted to the scene of horror in front of him.

  The light revealed a strange room. One whose walls, floor and roof all appeared to be constructed from bluestones, but Dave barely even spared them a second glance. It was what the modern bay of fluorescents fixed to the roof revealed that held him transfixed.

  Suddenly the horrendous smell started to make a whole lot more sense.

  Piles of bodies were stacked around the room. There must have been at least a hundred. They ran the gamut from near mummified to almost liquescent to what looked relatively fresh but all of them shared one trait: their size. Though his reeling brain did not want to contemplate it, as soon as Dave’s eyes fell on the bodies stacked up like cordwood he knew what the small stature meant.

  Fuck, they’re kids… His brain finally managed to latch onto a coherent thought and he tried to look away. There was no reprieve though. Bodies were everywhere and when he looked down, Dave found the reason for the earlier squelching. Puddles of foul liquid, a pus-like, greenish-crimson colour, oozed forth from the decaying mounds, forming an elaborate tributary system in the cracks of the floor.

  Strangely enough it was the sight of the mess on the floor that got his mind onto the muck on his fingers. There was no holding back his gorge as he realised what that meant.

  I put my hand in one of… Dave’s eyes shot back up to the crater he’d formed in the mottled black belly of a body that decay had reduced to a sexless thing. If there’d been anything left in his stomach he had no doubt he would have vomited once more. As it was he merely gagged as he raised his hand in horror and stared at the muck coating the ends of his fingers.

  Over and over and over. Endless gagging that Dave thought would never cease.

  ‘Oh goody, you’re awake.’

  The lisping voice sounded from behind him and as Dave placed it, he realised that he’d been wrong. That there was one thing that could stop his gags in an instant.

  As the image of Bruno Gallo’s head pulped across the bar seared through his brain, the flood of rage that gripped Dave had him abruptly whirling, roaring in anger as he turned to attack the old man.

  He caught a brief glimpse of the same crumpled suit and the blazing eyes then the anger left as quickly as it arrived. As soon as he glanced down and saw the glittering blade in Monty’s hand, a switch flipped in his brain and his charge died out into nothing more than a sagging step forward, his eyes widening as the roar on his lips died out into a meek squeak.

  The blade drew his eyes like a magnet. Closer and closer until it looked as big as a sword though in reality it couldn’t have been more than six or seven inches. Dave was so focused on its shining length that it took him a long time to realise that Monty wasn’t alone. Even when he did, Dave barely managed to spare a second glance at the naked boy that stood next to Monty, held in place by a hand at the back of his neck. Just a brief glimpse of pale skin, tousled brown hair and saucer eyes, then it was back to the metal blade.

  Monty moved forward, pushing the kid ahead of him. Dave whimpered and took a matching step back.

  Then another. And another, seeking to put a little bit of distance between the two of them.

  ‘Don’t move.’ Monty’s lisp suddenly rose in volume as he raised the knife. Instantly Dave froze in place. His breath hitched in his throat even though he realised the old man was just gesturing at something over his shoulder. ‘Behind you,’ Monty added in a softer tone and Dave couldn’t resist craning his head around.

  His brow furrowed in confusion as he did a quick double take. On the wall above a stack of fairly fresh looking corpses – fresh enough that Dave could still discern gender – a strange thing had happened to the bluestones. It took a couple of glances to decipher exactly what it was.

  And even then Dave wasn’t certain he got it correct.

  The stone appeared to be swirling, as though a whirlpool had formed in the centre of the wall, turning it into a black, swampy soup that roiled and churned even as it spun around and around in circles. Within the darkness, something else seemed to lurk. Something that Dave couldn’t quite make out, just catch the occasional glint of as it darted to and fro like a knife flashing through a darkened alley.

  Dave felt something run up the entire length of his spine as he watched the whirling for a moment and then somewhat unsteadily took a cautious step back away from it, the knife in Monty’s hand suddenly forgotten. Even the horrible stink of the room seemed to drop down a level or two as his reeling brain tried to comprehend what he was seeing.

  Monty pushed the kid forward another step and Dave stared at the boy dumbly only realising how cold the room had grown when he saw the way his bony frame shivered. Though the kid wasn’t making any noise, the wide eyes were red-rimmed and it was clear he’d recently been bawling. Even as he watched, Dave could tell that the boy was trying to hold in more tears.

  ‘See? Do you understand a bit better now?’ Monty’s eyes burned into Dave when he glanced up from staring at the boy. There was a flicker of something that Dave could almost interpret as happiness in Monty’s gaze. ‘You do, don’t you. You do!’

  Dave was pretty certain he didn’t but he kept silent, swaying a little as he tried to think through his confusion and the pulse of his headache. It wasn’t really working though and the longer everything went on, the more blurry it started to get around the edges.

  ‘Fifty five years this has been my life,’ Monty continued, spittle flying with the intensity of his words. ‘Do you have any idea what that is like? All of this. Day after day after fucking day. The kids. The blood. This room and those things.’ Monty jutted a finger at the roiling whirlpool on the wall. ‘Do you know what that is like? No one. No, nononono no one should be forced to do the things I have to do. No one should have to see the things I see. It’s too much. Far, far, far, too much. It changes you. Look into my eyes. See that? That’s gatekeeper eyes. Eyes that have seen things that would melt your brain. Eyes that have seen the truth and know what to do.’

  Dave stared at Monty for a second as the man nodded.

  RUN! his brain abruptly screamed at him but Dave had barely done any more than flinch and immediately Monty was in action, moving with a speed that belied his obvious age.

  ‘Uh uh.’ The blade flicked up to rest against the naked boy’s throat while Monty shifted his grip, grabbed hold of a hank of hair and yanked the boy’s head back, finally forcing a whimper from the trembling child.

  Dave stopped dead in his tracks and held his hands up placatingly.

  ‘It’s not fair that I should have to do this.’ Monty’s voice briefly cracked and Dave realised that the man’s cheeks were wet with tears. ‘It’s not fairnotfairnotfairnotfair.’ He muttered away, his words dying out into a guttural murmur for a second. ‘It’s not fair that I should have to do this. All of you out there, you don't even know what I sacrifice. I've seen the way they look at me. They don't understand what I've done. What I do for them. Nononono they just barge in here and want to change everything. Never mind if there are reasons things are the way they are. Never mind that I've been out here alone ever since Klara died. Never mind that I've been standing between them and the destruction of everything they've EVER FUCKING KNOWN!' Monty's voice abruptly rose to a roar and Dave recoiled as spittle splattered his face. He almost took anothe
r step back before he abruptly remembered what graced the wall behind him.

  When Monty continued his voice had dropped back to its usual level.

  'Years now with no one to talk to. No one to confide in. Nothing but this slaughter...' Monty's words petered out while he shook his head side to side. 'But no more,' he whispered softly. 'No no no no no more. I can't do another one. I told them that. I told them I can't do another one but they wouldn't listen. Wouldn't send a replacement... You should do it.'

  Dave's heart thumped once, heavily then his blood turned to ice water in his veins.

  'Excuse me?' He was amazed how calm and polite his words came out. Inside he felt anything but.

  'Yeah, I want you do it.' A revolting grin spread across Monty's face. Not least because of the hope it conveyed. 'I can't do it so you need to.'

  The knife dropped away from the boy's throat though Monty still kept hold of the kid's hair, holding the head jerked back at the awkward angle. For a second Dave just didn't know what to do.

  'Yeah, come on.' Monty flipped the knife and caught it by the blade before holding it out to Dave. 'You do it.'

  Dave stood motionless. His brain only working in fits and spurts. Things were moving too quickly for him. It seemed like only five minutes ago he'd stood at his window in the Gallo's hotel, lighting up a cigarette. Yet now here he was standing in the middle of a strange room, surrounded by the corpses of a hundred children with a madman in front of him asking him to kill yet another one.

  'No... No I... cannot...'

  Monty waved the knife and the kid whimpered again. 'Come on now, hurry up. They're coming through.'

  Monty gestured with his chin and Dave glanced behind him.

  The whirling vortex on the wall now appeared to be bulging out, extending and tapering to a cone like point.

  'What the fuck is that?' Dave got it out calmly the first time. 'WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!' A calm that didn't last as the cone bulged out further and further and the glinting in its centre appeared more frequently.