by Ryan Casey
It surprised Anna herself at first. She wasn’t one to cry willy-nilly. Didn’t get anybody anywhere.
Which could strangely work in her favour in a situation like this.
James shuffled from side to side when he saw Anna crying. His eyes wandered back over the mob and into the distance. “Anna, I said am sorry. There’s nowt I can—”
“I want to know why they went against me. Why they betrayed me. I…I need to hear it. I need to hear it from them first-hand before anything happens. Or I can’t support whatever it is you’re planning with them, James. I can’t support it until I hear it myself. I just need a minute with them. Just one minute. Please.”
James sighed. He rubbed his chapped, dry lips together, shuffling on the step even more uncomfortably.
“Just a minute, James. That’s all I need. All I need to—to hear it for myself. They owe me that much. They—”
“Make it fuckin’ quick,” James said, whispering right into Anna’s face. He reached for the handle and pushed her inside, checking to see nobody was paying any real attention.
The tears stopped the second James’s hand rammed her through the door, but fortunately it was too late for him—or for anyone—to notice.
She stood in the front room of the caravan.
Claudia and Chloë were sat on the floor, duct tape on their mouth, staring back at her. Their hands were linked to the cabinet handles with handcuffs. Tears poured down their bruised, resigned faces.
“I—I don’t have long in here,” Anna said. She walked towards them and crouched down right in front of them. “So I can only say this once—to both of you. We’re getting out of here. I’m going to set you both free and we’re going to get out of here with you. Riley and Pedro are working on a way to distract the people outside this caravan. When they’re gone—and only when they’re gone—you run down that hill as fast as you can, get into the woods as soon as you can, and head towards the metal fences. You’ll see them as soon as you hit the woods.” She pulled out the paperclip in her shaking hand and stuffed it into the side of Chloë’s handcuffs. She twisted it, just like Riley said, then twisted in the other direction, making a key-like shape. Easier said than done, this was.
All the while, she continued talking: “We’ll meet you out there and then we’ll go. I’d take you myself, but it’s too risky. We only have one shot at this. One shot to get out and away from here. And trust me—I don’t care what Mike or Rodrigo or Father fucking Christmas told you for that matter—the only way we’re going to be safe is if we get out of here.”
Chloë watched Anna with wide, understanding eyes as Anna’s shaking fingers twisted the paperclip even more. Fuck. Why wasn’t it working? Why was none of it working?
She heard a bump outside. A bump at the door that made her freeze, right there on the spot. She spun around. Just a stone or a rock or something like that. Nobody was coming inside. She still had time. She still had a shot.
“It’s…I’ll unlock your cuffs,” Anna said again, twiddling the paperclip around Chloë’s handcuffs, her heart racing. “Then you wait until it’s all clear out there. Which it should be very soon. You just—”
Her speech was cut off by a large snapping sound. She heard it before she felt it, and felt it before she saw it.
But when she looked in her hands, she understood.
The paperclip had snapped in Chloë’s handcuffs. It was wedged inside the lock. What remained in her fingers was nothing more than a stub of metal.
She looked up at Chloë and then at Claudia. Chloë looked confused, but Claudia’s face hadn’t really changed. She had that same defeated look in her bleary eyes.
The paperclip had snapped. More footsteps outside the door. Fuck.
“I…I’ll just need to—” Anna started to speak, not quite knowing what she needed to do, or what she could do.
That’s when Chloë pulled her hand from the cuffs.
The cuffs dropped back against the cabinet.
Her wrist was free.
Anna stared at her for a few seconds. Claudia’s eyes widened, hope flickering up inside them.
“That’s…that’s right,” Anna said as she moved Chloë’s hands behind her back. “Now just wait here. We need—I need to find a way to get your mum out. I need to find a way.”
Anna looked around the living room of the caravan. Her head spun. There had to be something in here that she could get Claudia free with. Chloë’s hands were free—that was a start. But she had to finish the job. She couldn’t just save one of them. Saving one of them wasn’t enough. They couldn’t leave anybody behind.
Anna rose to her feet and yanked open a drawer above the cabinet that Claudia was still tied to. She looked inside. Nothing but cloth, medicine—all kind of equipment like that. She opened the next drawer. Her head pulsated with tension. She had to get this done. She had to be quick.
And right there in the next drawer, Anna saw exactly what she needed to see.
It was a long, thin needle. Thicker than the paperclip, but with enough luck it should pry Claudia’s wrist free from the cuffs. She held it in her hand. Let out a shaky breath and shut the drawer of the cabinet.
“Okay, Claudia. Just you now. Just…”
Her speech trailed off. It was the way Claudia’s eyes were staring at the door. The way Chloë was rooted to the spot, trying her best not to show her freed hand.
It was at that moment that Anna felt like she was being watched. She felt somebody else’s presence in the room, right there with them.
She turned around slowly. Tension built up in her stomach. Sweat built up on her forehead and under her arms and all over. She held her breath. Kept on turning. Slipped the needle behind her back and out of sight.
James was standing by the door. He had a gun in his hand. He was looking right at Anna, eyebrow turned, serious frown on his face.
“I gave you a minute,” he said. “Wanna tell me what you’re doing in that drawer or are we gonna ‘ave to ‘ave a chat with Rodrigo about this?”
Chapter Five
Pedro kept his head down as he walked back from his caravan. He’d found the Fluothane by the side of the sofa. Must’ve dozed off after slipping some in his whisky, or something like that.
Speaking of whisky, he’d been sure to sneak a bottle along in his rucksack. Wasn’t gonna be all pretentious and pretend he knew the type—whisky was whisky at the end of the day. If it got him hammered and kept him warm through the night, then it was alright by him.
He’d packed a few other bits and bobs too. Tinned food, a toothbrush—even though his teeth had felt furry as fuck ever since these flesh-eating goons started walking the earth. He rubbed his tongue against his teeth and wondered if he was ever going to have a fresh mouth again.
Whisky did a good job of making up for the lack of freshness, too.
He saw Riley sitting on the concrete steps in front of the main Heathwaite’s leisure centre. What they were gonna do was risky, but it was the best shot they had. There were only four of those gate guards now. Pedro figured they could put them to sleep without much fuss, open up the gate, then cause a panic with the remaining guards at the caravan Claudia and Chloë were in. It wasn’t his ideal choice. Really, he’d rather have just put his feet up here for the winter. But yeah. Claudia and Chloë were friends. Couldn’t leave friends behind, and all that.
Well, you could, but probably best not to in these circumstances. Might get people suspicious.
He tugged his bag further over his shoulder and walked towards Riley. He was so close. They were so close to getting this done with. It’d be a shame to see the back of Heathwaite’s, but leaving places always was a shame. Hopefully this bunker over the Knott would be good enough.
If not, there’d be somewhere else. When you were trying to survive, there always was a somewhere else.
As he went to tak
e his next step down the road, he felt himself stop. It was as if someone had brought down an invisible barrier right in front of him. He tried to walk again, but again, he couldn’t move.
That’s when he realised that somebody was holding onto his bag.
Pedro turned around right away.
Rodrigo was the one holding his bag.
“Al—alright boss?” Pedro said. A little speck of spit spat down his bearded chin. Fuck. Keep yourself cool, Pedro. Keep yourself cool.
Rodrigo held on to Pedro’s bag. He stared him in the eyes with an intensity like Pedro had never seen, not since he’d been at Heathwaite’s. Then, after a few more seconds that felt like forever of this staring: “Going somewhere?”
Pedro gulped. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Think quick. Just need to get to Riley. Rodrigo knows nothing. Nothing at all. Play it right. “Havin’ a drink with Riley. He needs it with all this shite goin’ on with Claudia and Chloë.”
Rodrigo held Pedro’s bag. He actually looked at this green rucksack once for a number of seconds as if his eyes were X-Ray scanners and he could see right through. He knew. He was going to ask to look. He was going to find the Fluothane and all of this plan would go right down the shitter.
“Aye, it’s…I just wanted a private chat with him. Like, no offence. Just figured it’d be good for us to—”
“You’ve all day for a private chat,” Rodrigo said. He let go of the bag. Pedro felt like running away right now. “Why don’t you let me have a drink with you, huh? Clear the air about all the shit that’s been going on today. I know I could do with one.”
Pedro’s stomach sank even further. He had no choice, really. He had to say yes. He just had to. Or it’d look even more suspicious.
Pedro nodded once. “Yeah, alright. I’m sure Riley’ll be alreet about—”
“Lead the way,” Rodrigo said.
Pedro felt a little uncomfortable turning his back to Rodrigo as he walked in Riley’s direction, every step a heavy, lumbering one. Not that he was threatened by Rodrigo—he’d dealt with bigger, more pumped up yanks than him in his time. But there was a look in his eyes. Like he was one step ahead. And Pedro didn’t like that one bit.
He walked slowly in Riley’s direction, every step torturous, like stepping across hot ashes.
When Riley turned around, for a split second, there was a smile on his face.
For an even shorter moment, that smile dropped, and he blinked rapidly as he focused on Rodrigo, right behind Pedro.
And then the smile returned. This time forced. This time stretched.
In other words, Riley knew just as well as Pedro that they were fucked.
“Seriously, you better tell me what you were doing in that drawer, love. Lot of people out there who might not ask as nicely as me.”
Anna stared back at James. He’d closed the door behind him now. The look of pity at Anna’s tears that he’d shown just minutes earlier was completely gone now, replaced by a furrowed-browed look of suspicion.
He was on to her. He knew something was wrong.
“James, I—I was just finding them some water. Something to—”
“Bullshit,” James shouted. Saliva sprayed out of his mouth. His cheeks flushed, like an old man who’d drank too much booze. “You’d go to that bottle if you were after water. Bullshit were you giving ‘um water. So what is it?”
Anna was completely still. Claudia and Chloë were still, too. The plan was falling apart. They were surrounded. James was going to report this to Rodrigo. He was going to report this and the whole escape plan was going to crumble, piece by piece.
“Just show me yer hands,” James said, smiling now. “Come on. Show me yer hands so I know you ain’t holdin’ anything or doing owt wrong.”
Anna’s stomach filled with tension. “James, I swear—”
“Show ‘um,” he said, sternly. “Show ‘um, or I’ll come look at ‘um myself.”
Anna felt like a kid who’d been caught stealing sweets from a shop. Only very expensive sweets. Sweets that cost you far more than a grounding for a week.
Her cheeks burned. Her fingers clenched.
Then, she let go of the needle and lifted her hands.
A part of her hoped that James would miss the needle as it fell from her hands. A part of her hoped that he’d just watch her open up her hands and hold them up.
But no. Stupid idea. He watched the needle drop to the floor behind her. He watched it, and his eyes widened as he stared at it.
He sighed. Shook his head. “Anna, I always thought you were a feisty girl. But I didn’t have you down as a dumb bitch.”
“James, I swear to you—”
“Shut the fuck up you filthy little slut,” James said. His gun was raised and pointed right at Anna. “Thought you’d be able to set ‘um free, did you? Thought a fucking needle would release them cuffs? Bitch. Who else is in on this? I bet Riley’s in on this, isn’t he? Bet you all planned on letting your two sluts out of here and stabbing us in the back on the first chance—”
“They’re good people!” Anna shouted as James walked towards her with his handgun raised. Fuck. She could’ve attacked him if it came to that. She could’ve attacked him with the needle but now that was on the floor and her chance was gone. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
James smiled. “Slut showin’ her true colours when a gun’s pointed in her face. What d’you reckon ladies? Shall we have a foursome later? Nice punishment foursome? Make a slutty video? I think we should. I think we definitely should. Now step the fuck aside.”
James stopped right in front of Anna. She could smell onions on his breath, and it made her feel so, so sick. This was it. He was going to take the needle and he was going to tie her up with Claudia and Chloë. He’d made his decision—Claudia and Chloë were enemies in his eyes. And now, so too was Anna.
“James,” Anna said. Her voice was shaky. The tears were genuine this time. “I swear to you, none of us mean any harm. They’re friends. People. Just like us. People who don’t mean to hurt anyone. And yes, they might’ve got mixed up with Mike, but they were scared. Just like we were. They were scared.”
James’s gun hand began to wobble. So too did his hard smile. Anna could see his defences breaking down. Her heart raced. Her body felt like it had turned to stone. She was pretty sure that if she hadn’t already pissed herself, she would do very soon.
“Please,” she said. “Please.”
James nodded his head. Blinked a couple of times. Looked at Anna, then Claudia, then Chloë. “Sorry,” he said. “I was just working out which one of you I’m going to put my dick inside first. Now step aside, you bitch.”
All hope drifted out of Anna’s body with those words. The last fragments of hope she had. She’d given it her all and she’d failed. She didn’t have anything left in the tank.
But she wasn’t stepping aside. The fucker could push her out of his way if he wanted to, but she wasn’t moving for him.
She stayed put. Kept her hands up.
“I said, step aside,” James said. He grabbed her by the hair. His eyes were bloodshot and furious. Onion breath coated Anna’s face. She could feel his bulging hard cock on the side of her thigh.
“I decided,” he said, sniffing at Anna’s sweaty neck. “It’s gotta be you first. If the boss lets me, it’s gotta be you. In fact—fuck. What’s stopping us right now, hun? What the fuck’s stoppin’ us going at it right here right now?”
Anna tried to shuffle herself free of his grip but he pressed her back, right above Claudia and Chloë. He started to undo his belt, then moved on to his flies, and the next thing Anna knew this man had his trousers and boxer shorts down to his knees and his cock was staring back at her, angry, desperate.
“Keep still, bitch,” he said, moving closer to her.
Anna had no choice. She saw flashes. Flashes of before the Dead Days of Damon and all the abuse, all the alcohol fuelled abuse.
All the times he’d pushed her down against the sofa and had his way with her. All the times, for all those years, she’d let it happen. She’d let it happen for four miserable years. She was frozen. She couldn’t breathe. She could feel James getting closer and closer, shoving his hand down the front of her trousers, tearing away the button.
She gripped her necklace—gripped it like she always used to whenever things got bad—as the tears came down her cheeks in full, real flow.
“Keep still,” he said, with his putrid breath. “I’ll make it quick—ARGHHH!”
Anna didn’t understand what happened next, not at first. All she knew was that James was screaming in her face. At first, for a split second, she wondered if this was part of him trying to frighten her—trying to psychologically rape her as well as physically.
It was only when she looked down at James’s erect sergeant that she realised what was happening.
Blood was spraying out of James’s dick as he fell backwards, stumbling across the brown—now partly bloodstained—floor of the caravan. There was a long, sharp needle sticking through the end of his dick, pierced right the way through.
Chloë stood to her feet. She pushed James down as he whimpered and screamed in pain, unable to fight back in his fit of sheer agony.
And then the screams were muffled, and then they were gone.
It happened like that to Anna. Like a video had been fast-forwarded. Except it hadn’t. She’d seen what had happened. She’d seen what Chloë had done, right there in front of her.
Chloë turned back to Anna, the glass vase from the coffee table covered in blood and pieces of flesh.
Blood from James’s bludgeoned head.
Chloë pulled the duct tape away from her mouth, revealing chapped, broken lips. She half-smiled at Anna, who was completely frozen to the spot still, her trousers halfway down her legs.
“What do we do now, Anna?” Chloë asked as she held the bloody vase in her hand, James’s bludgeoned, twitching body oozing blood onto the brown carpet of the caravan.