The BIG Horror Pack 2

by Iain Rob Wright

  Stevie raised an eyebrow. “No shit! I heard you bought a little place in the country, but I didn’t realise it was a little chateau.”

  “Liz wanted to go bigger. This was a compromise. The original cottage was only two bed, but we had a couple more built and extended the kitchen. The room we’re in now is new as well. The original living room is at the back of the house.”

  Stevie looked around admiringly. “It’s nice; what you always dreamed of as a kid. You were always wanting to go exploring in the woods or fishing at the lake by yourself. You always did like the solitude. Me, I was always more interested in being where the people were.”

  Blake remembered how sociable Stevie was as a kid. People couldn’t help but love his cheeky smile and boundless energy. Ricky was a lot like him in many ways. Blake just hoped they were unalike in others. “I’m happy here,” he said. “We all are. I just need to get back into the groove of things and stop feeling sorry for myself.”

  Stevie waved a hand. “Don’t sweat it, man. You were never in this for the money, so what’s the rush? You used to write those awful bloody stories when you were in college and you’d make me read them. They sucked, but you were always so proud of them. Writing is something you do for you, not the money. When you want to write again, you’ll write. Just please don’t turn into that clichéd writer that constantly moans about writer’s block. Don’t be that asshole. You’re a lucky son-of-a-bitch, so wear a smile and wear it well. Anything else is ungrateful.”

  “You’re right. I am lucky. You just caught me at a bad time.”

  “I know that, big bro. That’s why I’m here. I know I’ve been a burden in the past, but I do give a shit, you know?”

  “I know you do.”

  “Then let me know what you need.”

  “I need to be here for Liz and, right now, I’m not sure your being here is conducive to that.”

  Stevie’s face fell. “Oh…right. Okay, I guess I’ll call a taxi and head back home, then. You mind if I leave after lunch? It’d be nice to spend a little time with Ricky before I go.”

  Blake nodded, already feeling wretched. “Of course.”

  Stevie got up and strolled around the room with his hands on his hips, examining the wall art and furniture like he was trying to make a lasting impression to take with him.

  “Look,” said Blake. “I’ll see what Liz says. If she doesn’t mind you being here, then perhaps you can stay for the night. Don’t you have work tomorrow, though?”

  “I’ll call in,” he said. “I can get a couple days off. Thanks, big bro.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Stevie looked at Blake and gave another of his cheeky grins. “So, when are you going to get rid of this dining table and get a snooker table in here?”

  “Ha! Have you been spying on me? That’s the exact thing Liz and I argued about when we first bought the place. I wanted this to be a games room, but it ended up being a ‘family room.’”

  Stevie cracked an imaginary whip at Blake.

  “No, no, Liz was right. She usually is. We spend time together, eating or watching TV, it’s nice. A pool table would just end up gathering dust. Who would I even play with? Ricky prefers football.”

  Stevie turned a circle before heading to the side table full of picture frames. “You could always play with yourself. You used to enjoy that, remember?”

  “It used to beat playing with my annoying little brother.”

  “Beat is the word, like how you used to beat off to badger porn.”

  They both chuckled.

  Stevie picked up a picture frame from the side table. “Didn’t think you were one for antiques.”

  “I’m not. Ricky found it with the metal detector in the field.”

  “No shit? That’s really cool. Thing looks ancient.”

  “I don’t think it can be that old. It has a glass front. Maybe it’s twenty, thirty-years-old.”

  Stevie turned the frame over and examined all the carvings. “Maybe the original owner of the cottage made it.”

  “Why bury it?”

  “Dunno. Do you know about the history of the cottage?”

  Blake shook his head. “I had a building survey done. That’s all I cared about. I’m not really one for history.”

  “You should be, man. Places have a story to tell. You being a writer, I would’ve thought you’d be interested in stuff like that.”

  “I prefer make-believe. Nobody gets hurt in made-up stories.”

  Stevie shook his head. “God, you’re a cheery soul. You’d have made a better alcoholic than I ever did. Anyway, who chose the picture in here? It’s nice. You’re actually smiling in it.”

  “It was a good day. Torquay, I think. Ricky put a picture of Bailey inside initially but, after what happened, Liz changed it. Now, after what’s happened to Val, we might have to end up changing it again. Tell you the truth, the thing is starting to give me the creeps. Seems like all our bad luck started the moment Ricky dug the thing up. It was buried with some old chicken bones. How creepy is that?”

  Stevie scrunched up his face. “Chicken bones? That’s a bit grim. Wonder why somebody buried it with bones? I’d get rid of it if I were you. Sounds a little funky.”

  Blake shook his head. “I can’t, Ricky would be upset.”

  “There’s much worse things a kid can go through than having a picture frame thrown in the bin. Just tell him it was ugly and buy him a videogame instead. He won’t even remember this time tomorrow. Besides, there’s a big old smudge on the glass anyway.”

  “Really?” asked Blake. “Show me.”

  Stevie held the picture frame up. Sure enough there was a blemish on the glass. It was right over Val’s face. Blake wet his thumb and rubbed at the mark, but it wouldn’t come away. “I think it might be on the photograph,” he said.

  Stevie turned the picture over and rubbed at the glass with the cuff of his sleeve. “You might be right,” he said. “Here, let me slide it out and then you can chuck the thing away.”

  Stevie fiddled with the top of the frame and tried to pinch the photograph with his dirty nails. He turned it over in his hands, checking each side. At one point he even went at the thing with his teeth. Eventually he gave up with a huff. “I can’t for the life of me work out how to get this bloody photograph out, man.”

  Blake took the frame from his brother. “Liz said you just slide the picture out the top from behind the glass. I struggled with it too, yesterday, when I tried to change the picture.”

  “Huh? Weird.”

  Blake fiddled at the edge for several minute, but he too failed to remove the photograph. “Sod it. It’s not that nice a photograph. I’ll just have to chuck it along with the frame.”

  Stevie chuckled. “Come on, let’s get rid of it now while we have the chance.”

  They headed into the kitchen where Blake went straight to the bin. He stepped on the pedal and lifted the lid, then tossed the picture frame into the rubbish. He covered it with cardboard and old lettuce. Ricky would kick off about it, but Blake couldn’t deny how much better he felt throwing the thing away. He’d never been a superstitious person, but the more he thought about the old picture frame, the more he was sure it’d brought bad luck to his family. He was glad to see the back of it.

  “Good riddance,” he said, as he slammed the bin’s lid down.

  10

  “What is your brother doing here?” demanded Liz once they were alone in the kitchen.

  “He just turned up out of the blue.”

  “He could’ve called. Would’ve given us time to hide all the booze.”

  “Look, I was as surprised to see him as you are, but what could I do? He’s my brother. You always seemed to get on with him fine in the past.”

  “I got on with him fine ten years ago, when you and I were still young and irresponsible. We have a son now. We can’t have your train wreck of a brother hanging around and drinking himself silly on our couch. Just look at the state of him. Has
he even taken a bath in a month?”

  Stevie cleared his throat, appearing in the doorway. “Hey, Liz. I’m sorry about your mother.”

  Liz went red in the face and started fidgeting. “Oh, yeah, hi Steven. Thank you. I’m finding it quite hard at the moment, but thank you.”

  Stevie nodded. “I know, and I shouldn’t have just turned up. I’ll get out of your hair right after lunch, if that’s okay? I’d like to spend a little time with Ricky. Last time I saw the kid, he was still a toddler. I’ll be good, I promise.”

  Liz cleared her throat and swallowed audibly. “Maybe you should go play kick-about in the field. Ricky would like that.”

  Blake knew how his wife operated. The suggestion was designed to keep Stevie out of the house and away from the family room’s bar.

  Stevie seemed happy enough to comply. He nodded and smiled. “Thanks, Liz. It’s good seeing you again. I’m sorry it’s under such shitty circumstances.”

  Liz nodded curtly, but she did manage a thin-lipped smile that made her look just like her mother.

  As soon as Stevie disappeared again, Liz turned back to Blake, scowling. “How much of that did he hear?”

  “I don’t know. Why are you angry at me because he may have heard you being nasty about him?”

  “I wasn’t being nasty, I was being truthful. Your brother is a train wreck. Remember our 10th anniversary? He got so drunk that the police were called. He got behind the wheel of that rickety old truck of his and started burning around the car park like a maniac. Lucky he didn’t kill anyone.”

  Blake laughed before he could stop himself. “He was just trying to impress a girl. He’s always been the same, likes to have a good time.”

  “Even if it means ruining everybody else’s.”

  “Our 10th anniversary was five years ago. You should let it go.”

  “Should I now? That girl he was so interested in was my friend, Wendy, and we haven’t spoken since. He went back to hers and puked everywhere and broke a lamp. Then he stole money from her purse in the morning so he could get a taxi to go collect his bleeding truck.”

  Blake sighed. “As I recall, Wendy was a bit of a state herself that night. Besides, Stevie got married less than a year later. We were at the wedding.”

  “Ha! I’ve never seen a bride and groom as drunk as they were. She’s as much a mess as he is.”

  Blake was losing patience. What did she want him to do, eject his brother the moment he’d seen him coming down the driveway? “Look,” he said. “If I catch Stevie taking a drink, I’ll tell him to sling his hook. I don’t want Ricky around excessive drinking any more than you do. To be honest, I don’t even like how much you drink around him.”

  Liz’s face darkened. “What?”

  “I think you’ve been drinking a lot lately. It’s started to worry me a little. Last night…”

  The look on Liz’s face was thunder, with lightning ready to leap from her eyes. “How dare you. If I want to have a drink after looking after your son, your home, or putting up with your moods whenever you’re having a ‘bad day,’ then that’s exactly what I’ll do. Who do you think you are?”

  Blake put his hands up. “Fine, you’re right. I’m just saying to take it easy.”

  Liz shoved him aside. “Get out of my face. God, I can’t believe you. My mother is dead and you’re giving me crap.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

  “You’re a bastard, Blake. Just leave me alone, and get your goddamn brother out of my house.”

  Liz stomped out of the kitchen.

  Blake placed the heels of his palms against his head and hissed. “God damn it,” he said. “When did I get so bad at dealing with life?”

  He exited the kitchen and headed out the front door. The cold air immediately made him feel calmer, and he was once again glad to live in the country. In the city, there was nowhere to collect your thoughts in silence.

  Blake headed for the field, listening out for sounds of Ricky and Stevie playing; but what he heard did not sound like playing.

  Stevie came rushing around the corner of the cottage. His weathered face was completely pale. “Blake! Ricky’s hurt.”

  Blake’s stomach turned. “What? Where? Take me to him. Take me to him now.”

  Stevie nodded. “This way.”

  Blake’s body tingled with adrenaline as he ran. Nothing got the muscles pumping like fear.

  Ricky was at the bottom of the field, screaming in agony. Tears flooded his cheeks and blood covered his left leg.

  Blake whirled on his brother. “What the hell happened?”

  “A fox attacked him.”

  “Are you joking?”

  Stevie looked like a frightened child. “Blake, I swear. I kicked the ball over by the hedges and when Ricky ran over to get it he must have disturbed a fox. It leapt right out and bit him.” He pointed to the edge of the field, but there was nothing there.

  Blake shoved his brother aside and knelt beside his son. There was a lot of blood. “Ricky, are you okay? What happened?”

  He was crying so hard that it took him a few seconds to catch his breath. “A…a fox. A f-fox b-bit me.” A fresh bout of tears took hold of him.

  Stevie was almost in tears as well. “I know it sounds crazy, man, but it’s the truth.”

  Blake shovelled his son into his arms and hurried back towards the house. Ricky sobbed the entire time and buried his head against his father’s chest, just like he did when he was four-years-old after a nightmare.

  Stevie raced after them. “Blake, I’m so sorry. There was nothing I could do, I swear.”

  Blake said nothing. He didn’t want to hear it, he just wanted to make sure his son was okay. He ran as fast as he could towards the cottage and started thinking about what he was going to tell Liz. She had enough to deal with right now, and she was already in a bad mood.

  She was standing outside the front door as they came around the corner. Her hands were on her hips, but as soon as she saw Ricky, her arms fell to her sides. “Oh God, what’s happened?”

  “He was bitten,” shouted Stevie.

  “Bitten by what?”

  Blake shoved past his wife and went inside. “A fox,” he mumbled.

  Stevie and Liz chased Blake into the kitchen, where he plonked Ricky down on the breakfast bar, spilling the contents of a fruit bowl everywhere.

  Ricky had managed to find a rhythm for coping with the pain and was no longer crying, but whimpering and panting instead.

  “Let’s get your trousers off,” said Blake, already tugging at them.

  “I’ll get the first aid kit,” said Liz, rushing off.

  “What do you want me to do?” asked Stevie.

  Blake looked him in the eyes. “Just stay out of the way.”

  Stevie dissolved into the background.

  Liz came back with medical supplies. Without needing to be asked, she handed over the alcohol wipes.

  Blake began cleaning the wound, ignoring Ricky’s hisses of pain. Most of the blood was sticky, already clotting, and came away easily. No more replaced it. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” said Blake. “It’s already stopped bleeding.” It wasn’t entirely true, but he saw Ricky relax immediately.

  Blake tore open another alcohol wipe and continued dabbing at the wound. As it became clearer, it did indeed look like a shallow bite, from jaws a little smaller than a dog’s. The puncture marks weren’t deep and were likely caused by a startled snap than a vicious bite.

  “We need to take him to hospital,” said Liz. “He could get tetanus.”

  “He’s been vaccinated. It’s not that bad. We just need to make sure the wound is clean and he’ll be fine.” Blake picked up a tube of antiseptic gel from the first aid kit and spread it liberally on Ricky’s shin.

  Ricky hissed. “It’s cold.”

  “That’s good,” soothed Liz. “It’ll numb it and stop it hurting.”

  “Daddy’s not going to kill the fox, is he?”

  Blak
e and Liz looked at one another. “Why do you ask that?”

  “I don’t want him to hurt it. I scared it, it was just frightened.”

  Liz stroked his forehead. “Don’t worry about that now.”

  The truth was that Blake did want to go out with a shotgun right then and take the animal’s head off. He didn’t own a shotgun, though, and he was an outspoken critic of fox hunting. He’d be a hypocrite if he killed an animal that was just acting on instinct. ‘Animals commit no crimes and deserve no punishment,’ he had written once in an article opposing blood sports.

  Liz handed Blake a cotton wool pad and a bandage, which he placed over the wound. By the time he was done dressing Ricky’s leg, the boy looked like a wounded soldier.

  “You alright there, bud?”

  Ricky nodded. “Can I have ice cream?”

  Everybody laughed, except for Stevie, who remained at the back of the room looking like a man condemned.

  11

  Ricky was in his bedroom, laid up with ice cream and video games. Before Blake left him, his son once again pleaded for the fox to be left alone. “We’ll see,” Blake had said. “I don’t believe in hurting animals, but I won’t put you in danger either. Maybe I can find a way to move it on.”

  In the kitchen, Stevie and Liz were already arguing. “How could you let this happen, Steven?”

  “There was nothing I could do. It just happened in an instant.”

  “If you weren’t such a drunken mess, you would’ve spotted the fox sooner.”

  Stevie winced. “I haven’t had a drink. I’m as sober as you are.” He glanced at the half-finished glass of red wine in Liz’s hand and corrected himself. “More so, actually.”

  Liz’s upper lip curled. “How dare you. You come into my home, injure my son, then have the audacity to comment on my behaviour?”

  Stevie raised his hands. “I wasn’t, Liz. I’m just saying I haven’t had a drink today. I know I haven’t seen you guys in a couple years, but I’m here because I care about you all. The last thing I would ever do is hurt Ricky.”

  “All you ever do is hurt people, Steven. Why are you really here? Do you need Blake to bail you out again? How much is it you need this time? We already paid for yours and Cindi’s wedding. Don’t you think we’ve given enough?”