Call to Witness

by Coleman, Spencer;

  ‘I’m calling the cops,’ the steward announced, and reached for his two-way radio.

  Michael looked at Terry. For once, he couldn’t find the strength to disagree with the man.

  ***

  A thin shaft of light allowed her a split-second to judge the situation, and make something of this hell on earth. They had been moved to another room. A door had been opened, just enough. She blinked, the tape over her eyes now thankfully removed. A split-second was all she had; then the darkness returned to smother all hope.

  She now knew that Antonia was seated beside her, her head down, possibly from exhaustion or the bash to the head. Her breathing was shallow, so shallow that she had thought she was alone in the room. Not so. Somebody else was with them. Kara listened. Silence. Her hands were still bound but it dawned on her that she was sitting freely on her seat, not tied to it. This gave her hope. Had her attacker made an error? Was this the chance to fight back? Did she have the strength of will to do so?

  The tiny hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end as panic engulfed her. She felt warm breath on her face. Fuck! Was that the eyes of Satan starring at her in the blackness of hell?

  Then a rasping voice split the air: ‘You cunt!’

  Kara jerked.

  ‘I have you now…’ Then the light from a torch shone in her face, dazzling her. Beyond, she could just make out the outline of a blood-stained mask staring at her: a shiny white mask with ruby encrusted decorations. The dream. Slowly, the mask was removed. Oh God! No! Surely not… then Lauren’s face came into view! She wanted to throw up.

  ‘Look at me, cunt!’

  On the left side of Lauren’s ruined face Kara saw the hideous scar that reached from her eye line to her chin. Her eyebrows were missing. The skin below was taut and sickly yellow, pulled together in tight knots from the burn marks. Her teeth and gums were exposed on this side too as her lips curled up into a grimace. Strangely, the right side of her face was untouched and retained its former exquisite beauty.

  Kara shivered as their faces almost caressed.

  ‘I wanted him,’ Lauren hissed. ‘He was mine, all mine, until you had to interfere, didn’t you bitch?’

  Lauren ripped the tape from Kara’s mouth.

  Kara almost spat the words out: ‘I worked for him, for Christ’s sake, that was all! He and I were never lovers…’

  ‘Shut the fuck up!’ Lauren snapped. ‘I’ve been watching you, following you, seeing you with him…you disgust me! Why did you have to take him from me, you selfish little cunt?’

  ‘I didn’t, you crazy fucked-up freak.’

  That did it. Kara recoiled as the clenched fist tore into her cheek and a hand grabbed her by the throat. Her tirade was not the best move of the night so far.

  Lauren almost spat the words. ‘Michael loved me, cherished me. Look at me! I’ve lost my lover, I’ve lost my looks! He said I was history. Well, now he will lose everything that is precious to him. We were meant to be together. I could have won him back, I just needed time to heal myself…but you interfered with my plan, alongside that greedy shitty little boyfriend of yours…’

  ‘Marcus?’

  The hand on her throat tightened. There was no reasoning with this mad woman. She had to do something…

  She kicked out. Then again, harder this time. She put her full weight behind the second kick. Her heels tore into something…was it flesh? The roar of pain reached her ears and lay testament to this hopeful claim. She kicked again and sensed Lauren fall at her feet. Kara stood and brushed past the stricken figure and reached the door, which was still ajar. The small light led her way. The metal door was heavy and she struggled with the handle, her back turned, until her groping fingers swung it open. She stumbled into the corridor. Momentarily, she was free and felt utter elation…then gasped as a hand grabbed her ankle, sending her plummeting to the ground. This time the blood on her hands was her own.

  ***

  Michael raced down the labyrinth of corridors, his shirt soaking wet from perspiration. He kicked open doors on the right side as he went, calling out Kara’s name. Terry followed, mimicking his friend’s actions on the doors to the left, this time shouting the name of Antonia. It was stiflingly hot. They were searching blindly, aware of just what mayhem Lauren was capable of creating.

  They reached another deck level.

  We need to split,’ Terry said.

  Michael didn’t answer. He just took off in the direction in front of him, unaware of what his companion had elected to do. When he finally turned and looked back, he was alone. In front, he saw an object on the carpet. A woman’s shoe. And droplets of blood leading further ahead.

  ***

  Kara regained consciousness and felt the surge of power to fight back. A rage boiled up inside her. Twisting, and using her shoulder to climb to her feet she once again lunged with her foot. Her heel dug into skin and bone. As she pulled away, she recoiled in horror as her shoe dislodged from her foot and remained as a dagger sticking out of her attacker’s neck. Blood pumped from the wound. But still the beast staggered, yelped and reached out in defiance. Kara kicked off her other shoe and ran as fast as she could. She didn’t dare look back for fear of what the walking dead actually looked like. All she knew was that this thing was following hard in her footsteps, and her stride was getting slower.

  ***

  Gently he opened the door. In the gloom he detected a figure slumped on a chair propped against a far wall. It was some kind of storage room. Michael lifted Antonia’s head and checked her pulse. It was weak but she was alive, blood congealing down her face from a head wound. She needed urgent medical help. He untied her arms and cradled her body as he gently lowered her to the floor. He called her name but she just murmured. He removed his cloak and draped it over her body. A noise reached him and he froze.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Terry said.

  Michael was utterly relieved to hear his friend’s voice.

  ‘I’ll take over here, you find Kara.’

  He didn’t need further persuasion. He fumbled through the cupboards and found a wooden mallet, a weapon nonetheless. He then moved into the corridor, looked both ways and weighed up his options. Lowering his gaze to the floor, he picked up the blood trail and followed, quickening his pace to the frantic beat of his heart.

  ***

  It was like the dream. The god-damn fucking dream, only this time she was stuck on a ship and not down the mystic alleyways of Venice. But the feeling was the same. Utter terror.

  In the darkened corridor, she could smell the acrid breath of the demon, it was that close. She shuddered. Behind her, a shadow followed. Ahead, a wide staircase beckoned. Her hands were still tied, but the tape had loosened. She twisted her wrists and gained leverage. At last she was free of the restraint as she yanked her hands apart. She was no longer defenceless. Beyond the staircase was a set of glass double-doors…and beyond that the night sky! Her heart thumped. It was her only chance of escape. She hesitated, then listened to a distant roar

  It was the scream that did it; a scream not of this earth…a deep guttural sound that first reached into and then echoed around her brain with an intensity that ensured madness to anyone who witnessed or heard such a notion of evil. The sound abated. And then from somewhere very close, it started again, reaching an even higher crescendo.

  Kara ran. She ran for her life. And in her panic, she could see visions from her past…vivid scenes from her dream which intermingled with the reality of what was happening right now.

  Gripping the iron railings, her clenched fists turned knuckle white with fear. She peered tentatively into the black water…

  She reached the upper deck and momentarily stood over the unlit swimming pool, holding onto the handrail. Her ghostly face was reflected back in the mirror-like water. She could hear the distant throb of music. She turned and searched the shadows, desperate for someone –Michael – to appear and miraculously rescue her.

  She hesitated on the precipice of the s
ubconscious world and thought of…well, murder, and the consequences of her own demise. It scared her witless…

  Then an unimaginable horror: Her attacker staggered from the top of the staircase, bloodied and howling from the wound in her neck. Rage engulfed her as their eyes locked.

  For Kara, the bloody violence of the history between them was a burden too great to carry. Was she capable of a cold-blooded killing, when it really came down to it? Her own life was on the line. She had to be prepared to forsake it. A tooth for a tooth…

  The attacker approached in a stagger and slowly removed the velvet hat from her head. Red hair tumbled down onto her shoulders. Kara gasped, reeling again from the sight of the hideous scars that disfigured the woman’s face and neck. And in that instant, she knew too that the living curse that Lauren endured during every waking hour was focused upon avenging those who inflicted such terrible damage.

  The stain from her past almost touched her now, so much so, she could even detect the stench from the breath of the beast who was now upon her …

  Suddenly, the strength of her resolve evaporated. Sheer terror crept up and began to render her defenceless against the impending onslaught.

  This was it. In a moment of lingering defiance, Kara met Lauren’s flaming eyes with the same intensity, just to finally demonstrate her contempt for such brutality. It wouldn’t save her, this she knew.

  The glinting blade came down upon her throat with lightning speed. This vision was death itself…

  Kara wobbled, and felt her legs buckle beneath her.

  ***

  Michael had just one chance to react. He charged across the deck and flung himself at Lauren as she held the knife aloft. Grabbing her around the waist, the momentum of his thrust pushed all three of them headlong over the handrail into the murky depths below. The impact of the icy water filled his lungs as he gasped for air. He surfaced, gulped, and felt his legs being pulled down by unseen hands. He lashed out to free himself as the clawing fingers pulled him deeper. In the swirling tumult, Michael tried to make sense of who he was fighting against…it was impossible to judge. What he did know was that Kara couldn’t swim. Was it her desperate grip which pulled him down? He had to somehow get to the surface and regain his strength. He kicked out as his body somersaulted from the weight of another pulling on him, sending him spiralling downward again. His head cracked against the bottom. He spread his arms to gain leverage and touched an object. He grabbed it. The mallet. He pushed against the tiled floor and soared upward, breaking the surface in a rush. He looked around as the waves settled. Christ, where was Kara?

  He dived and swivelled, searching frantically the bottom of the swimming pool for signs of her stricken body. Then he saw her dangling legs at the edge, next to the metal steps. He swam and caught her as she began to sink from exhaustion. He pushed her from below as she regained consciousness. Holding her tight, he helped as she instinctively climbed the steps to safety. He regained his strength and slowly followed her until they slumped beside each other, completely spent. Where was Lauren…?

  He lifted his head and turned to peer down into the red water. He put his hand to his head and felt blood oozing down his neck. He still held the mallet tightly with the other hand, just in case…

  But it was quiet. The water slowly flattened. It was over…

  As he turned toward Kara, he was suddenly aware of a movement out of the corner of his eye, a rush, a flash of steel. His eyes suddenly widened involuntarily, horror contained within.

  They affixed upon the impossible and breathtaking speed with which Lauren resurfaced and propelled herself from the water as she ascended the steps beside them. He had neither the strength nor the opportunity to react as she hovered above him, brandishing a knife above her head. In the gloom, he saw the angry scars which had ravaged her once stunning good looks. For a fleeting moment, he sensed a kind of pity behind her manic stare. All he could do in his panic was to scream her name and lift the mallet to protect himself and Kara, offering a feeble last line of defence.

  ‘Lauren! Lauren!’

  Startled, she hesitated and then uttered a howling scream that seemed to reach beyond sadness or rage. It was the final calling of a woman who only knew torment and torture; and a sound that signified the closure of her anguished past…and the prospect of a pitiful future. Alone.

  Michael saw this futile moment and acknowledged the deep sorrow in her eyes as she looked down at him… for the last time.

  The bullet ripped through the air and slammed into her head, sending her body in a backward arc as it first smashed into the water, sunk momentarily and then settled on the surface once more, a crimson stain widening around her as she gradually turned full circle in the centre of the pool. Then there was silence as the echo from the gunshot vanished into thin air. Michael and Kara turned and stared disbelievingly behind them.

  The man with the gun stepped out from behind a gantry.

  Michael dragged himself to his feet. Terry suddenly emerged behind the unexpected but welcome saviour, a soldier of fortune if ever there was one.

  ‘What the fuck?’ Terry yelled, approaching them, the moonlight illuminating his craggy face. Gemma too arrived on the scene and, in shock, held a hand over her mouth.

  Michael raised his arm. ‘It’s fine, Terry, everything is just fine…’

  Martin Penny helped Michael lift Kara to her feet and between them they shuffled her away, away from this forsaken place…a place for the dead. A final resting place that not even Lauren was ever going to return from. There was no coming back this time.

  As they gradually descended the gangway, each wrapped in a blanket and accompanied by the ship’s staff, the police sirens wailed from afar as the dockside became a scene of bedlam. Kara crouched down, exhausted, as the first ambulance arrived. Toby comforted her, unaware that Julius had arrived behind him and was watching anxiously as Antonia was laid on a stretcher, an oxygen mask attached over her mouth and nose.

  ‘Is she going to be OK?’ Julius asked, bewildered.

  An ambulance man nodded reassuringly. Together, they supported her as she was lifted into the rear of the vehicle. Then they were gone.

  Michael stood on wobbly bare feet, his head now bandaged, the blood flow stemmed.

  ‘How did you know?’ he asked, as Martin lit a cigarette and watched the smoke unfurl into the night sky. He passed it to Michael, who inhaled deeply. He was allowed this one moment.

  ‘It was Marcus who alerted me, so thank him for saving your life. He saw an image of Lauren leaving your apartment block, from CCTV footage that Terry had provided. I always believed that Maggie had an accomplice other than Theo. It was Lauren who killed Ronald. It was Lauren who lived above you, not Maggie as we first suspected. Her motive was not to hurt you…but to be close to you. She was misguided, truly believing that you could be together again.’

  ‘I can hardly grasp what you are saying. She lived above me..?’

  ‘After Marcus warned me, I searched the underground car park where you live, hoping to find something in the refuse block…’ He stopped and drew on the cigarette.

  ‘And?’ Michael asked.

  ‘I found an easel, and a discarded canvas…It was a painting of you, with her by your side. She hadn’t finished it, but I’ve kept it to show you.’

  ‘Why a painting..?’ he said, as he recalled the scraping noise above him as he tried to sleep one night. It was the easel being dragged across the floor, it had to be.

  ‘Because that’s how best she expressed herself, where her real talent lay and…she loved you, and even though she knew she couldn’t have you, because of her disfigurement, it was her way to make the union permanent. She wanted to be close...to be able to share something of her life with someone who ultimately wanted to help her when she really needed it. It was she who tried to save you in the barn, if you recall. While all else failed in her life, she ultimately believed in you. After she left the flat she holed up for a few days in a bedsit, which s
he originally shared with Maggie. I found hundreds of photos of you and Kara there. This was her lair.’

  ‘One thing that puzzles me,’ Michael said. ‘When you first took on the job, I understood that you put surveillance on my block of flats. Why didn’t you pick up on Lauren?’

  ‘We didn’t know who we were looking for. People came and went…you gave me a description of Maggie, not Lauren. As far as everyone was concerned, she was dead and posed no threat. Why would anyone be alarmed by a woman coming and going from the building? After Marcus spoke to me, I checked the cameras and found her…but it was too late. She had vanished. That is why I searched the refuse, to see if I could find anything to link her with you. And of course, I did.’

  ‘She was a fugitive, on the run…’

  ‘Exactly. Her world was tortured, and she had visions of recapturing her time with you…but that all altered when she overheard you on the phone to Terry. You said she was history, and that you bitterly regretted ever meeting her.

  Remember, she had your phone bugged. Kara was still around and then Agnes came back on the scene. That’s when she changed. She flipped. That’s when she sought revenge, and Ronald was the first to suffer her rage, because he was an easy target. Mitch too. It would have been Toby if he’d been working that day. It was her way of getting at you, to make you feel her pain. Kara was her next target, but Theo made a cock-up and she escaped with her life. But she would not be denied. If she couldn’t have you, no one would have you. Everyone was in danger.’

  Michael gathered the blanket tightly around him. He shivered from his wet clothes.

  Martin continued. ‘No one was safe. Julius and Antonia could go to hell as far as she was concerned. Agnes too. You had to understand her mindset. She was deluding herself, in self-denial, wrapped up in her traumatic past. She didn’t care much for Maggie in the end. After you escaped from the hut and her sister perished she had only one thing on her mind…she planned to exploit this moment as her final solution, if I can use the term.’