by Ian Woodhead
Dominic heeded the big man’s advice and gently clicked the door shut. He discreetly watched his friend slowly ease his frame out of the vehicle. Dominic honestly felt as though he was observing a different person. His big, cuddly teddy bear had run for the hills, leaving a huge scary man in his place. Dominic found the situation a little disquieting yet it also excited him too.
His friend had always stated that he preferred the rather boring heterosexual way of living. Douglas would often describe his latest conquest to Dominic, he’d lost count of just how many pretty girls that he’d taken to his bed. It always made Dominic so jealous. According to rumour, his friend was big everywhere. He imagined this huge, scary stranger pulling him back into the off roader and driving him somewhere dark and quiet before ripping off his clothes and bruising Dominic everywhere.
“Control yourself boy,” he muttered. He ought to be ashamed of himself. His friend could be dying and he was having erotic thoughts. “I think I need a cold shower.”
When the driver’s door clicked shut, he rushed around the beast in the hope that he could offer assistance. Not that he would be much help. He tried to imagine the mess Douglas would make of poor Dominic if he collapsed on top of him and shuddered.
He watched Douglas drop the packet of painkillers on the floor.
“Please don’t tell me that you’ve swallowed them all.”
His friend nodded.
“Oh no, are you insane? That was one super big packet, are you trying to kill yourself?”
Douglas started to laugh that quickly turned into a coughing fit. Dominic gasped and slapped him on the back.
“I’m okay! Jesus guy, stop being so brutal.”
Dominic placed his hands on his hips. “Are you going to tell me what you found to be so amusing now?”
Douglas leaned against the car door and took a deep breath. “I just wondered if you’ve ever nearly killed yourself by trying to swallow a big packet.”
Dominic tutted, “That’s rude.”
His friend grinned back at him then shrugged, “Maybe just little bit.”
He was super pleased to see the old mischievous glint back in his eyes. He hoped that his friend would be soon back to his old self.
“Come on, Domino,” he said, smiling. “You’ve got food to prepare. Don’t forget that its zombie night. So make sure that blender is on stand by in case any of the nearly dead forgets to put in their false teeth.”
He saluted Douglas and hurried across the carpark. One person who he was glad not to see was that carpark cleaner, Lester. That man made Dominic’s skin itch. Which is ironic as Lester had said exactly the same to him along with a number of equally horrible comments. According the Lester, all homosexuals were blasphemers to God, any men fancying other men ought to be put against a brick wall and shot.
He’d never told anyone else what that homophobic dickhead had said to him, unlike Lester, Dominic considered himself to be a nice guy and wouldn’t want to see him get into trouble. Even if he did deserve it.
The club door stood open, it took a little worry off his shoulders, knowing that somebody had got here before them. He hoped it would be Marlene. Douglas may be acting more like himself but he’d still feel better if she could persuade the big man to see a doctor.
Walking into the familiar surroundings of the club’s lobby just had to be the favourite part of his day. His co-workers never understood his why he relished the first few minutes of his shift. They repeated the same old phrases day in day out, like ‘it was back to the old grindstone’ or ‘same shit, different day’ Marlene muttered that one at least once a week.
They saw their jobs as a chore, a task to be endured, a boring job that just paid the bills and gave them a bit of spending money at the end of the week. His view differed, he saw each day as a fresh challenge, yet another opportunity to tickle the taste-buds of another fresh customer. Dominic knew that his menus rivalled any of the big hotels in the area for variety and quality and not forgetting value for money. The exotic choices on his menus may not have been as popular as he’d hoped but Dominic had never received any bad comments from anyone so far.
His big hope was that one day; a wandering food critic would find their way to the club and gasp in pleasant surprise when Dominic’s delicious food was consumed. Deep down in his heart though, his chances of being ‘discovered’ were pretty slim, he’d been here over twenty years and it hadn’t happened yet.
Dominic traced his finger along the framed Charles and Diana portrait that had been in that position since he’d first started here. He gazed at his still clean finger, the club may be in dire need of a revamp but at least it was clean and tidy. That was another reason not the drop that queer hating little man in the shit, at least he kept the club sparkling clean.
Douglas tapped him on the shoulders, “I see you’re admiring out future king. Charlie’s changed a bit since that was taken.”
Dominic nodded, “Unlike our lobby.”
“Well, if Charlie chose tonight to make a surprise visit, he’d fit right in. I love zombie night you know, it’s the only night in the week when I don’t get much trouble from the punters.”
He wished the others wouldn’t call them that, it was so demeaning. Speaking of surprise visits, if his food critic chose tonight to sample his wares, Dominic just knew he’d be super impressed. The older folk weren’t so keen of the exotic but that didn’t matter as he made the best steak and kidney pies in Yorkshire. He didn’t mind dampening down his creative tendencies for them, at least they gave him some appreciation. Unlike a certain other older person currently sat at home and waiting for her fish and chips.
He pushed open the door leading into the lounge and all thought of food preparation flew out of his head when he saw the scene in front of him. Dominic grabbed the edge of the door to stop him from collapsing.
Dominic pressed the palm of his hand into the edge of the door and silently hummed the theme tune to the Magic Roundabout while his eyes fed him images of all that blood, the body, and his workers huddled around it. Douglas pushed past him and rushed over to the boy lying on the two round tables. Dominic knew the boy was dead, he just had to be, alive people don’t look so grey and they certainly don’t have dents like that in his head, it looked as though someone had smacked a galia melon with a hammer.
He edged along the wall towards the toilet. Whilst watching Douglas search for a pulse on the body. His stomach had just decided that it didn’t want his last meal of porridge followed by strawberries and cream. He briefly wondered what it would look like when it shot out of his mouth. Douglas moved away from the boy’s damaged head and Dominic knew exactly what it was going to look like.
The sanctuary of the gents were now just a few metres away. He thought of pretty flowers and plain brown cardboard. He thought of anything that would stop the urge to vomit.
Douglas still had his hands on the boy’s skin. That was just too disgusting for words, how could he even contemplate going near it? His friend moved again and Dominic got his first clear view of the boy’s face. Oh dear lord, he’d seen him before, just a few days ago. Dominic had caught the lad going through the food bins in the compound. He’d rushed back into the kitchen to grab a piece of leftover chicken pie for him but the lad had scarpered by the time he had returned.
“Dominic? Could you join us, please?”
He jerked his head up, Dominic had been so focussed on the kid, he had no idea that the others were staring at him.
Bernard coughed loudly, “In your own time of course.”
Oh heavens, his boss actually wanted him to get close to that body. Bernard had his ‘I will not be defied’ hat on. His legs moved on their own volition. He silently chanted ‘I’m a brave soldier’ and went with his lower limbs.
“Before you query, we didn’t do it, this dirty sack of shit was found here.” he said. “So now, Dominic, all of us as a group now have a little problem to resolve.”
He heard the words but struggled to
make sense of them. His eyes were still on the body. due to his chosen career path, he had become rather ‘intimate’ with the qualities on dead flesh. If he leaped over his psychological repugnance to dead people, he knew that meat was meat, it didn’t matter which animal it came from. This lump of ‘meat’ just didn’t look dead to him, he couldn’t explain why.
When he looked up, Dominic saw that they were still staring at him.
Marlene was the first to look away, “We need to call the police.”
“You mean they haven’t been called yet?” asked Dominic, he licked his dry lips and stared at his boss, “Bernard, why not?”
Bernard shrugged and opened his hands, “I just want you all to dwell on the consequences first.”
“What the fucking hell are you talking about?” shouted Marlene. “Jesus, Bernard! It’s a dead body, we just have to call the cops, it’s what you do.”
Dominic had never heard Marlene swear before, tonight was turning into a series of firsts. First dead body, first time he’d heard Marlene use the ‘f’ word.
“Have you any idea of the damage it would cause to the club if it got out that a body had been found here? Christ lass, haven’t we had enough shit this week? Why should I let some stupid fucking smackhead kill off what little custom we have? It’s not our fault that he chose our club to die in is it?”
Dominic watched Marlene’s face change as the ramifications of what he was proposing sunk in.
“Have you lost your mind Bernard?” she uttered.
Dominic noticed that Marlene already had a phone in her hand.
“If the police are called, they’ll shut us down. Come on, Marlene, you help me with the books. You know as well as I that just one night of no trade will ruin the club. We’ll all be out of a job, it’s as simple as that.”
Dominic tried to imagine what he would have done if he’d have got here first, apart from scream and probably faint. “Was he lying here when you got to the club?”
Bernard shook his head, “No, the boy found it in the cupboard.”
Thomas turned bright red as everyone directed their gaze at him. Why was Dominic not surprised that he would be the one to find the body?
“Listen to me all of you. All I’m asking is a little support, it’s not like you’ll be taking any risk, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s my club, my responsibility. All I ask is for someone to help me put the body in the boot of my car. Come on, are you honestly prepared to lose your job just because some homeless druggie chose my club to pop his clogs?”
How on earth would he be able to look after his mother if he lost the job? The chances for him to find work in another kitchen at his age were from slim to zero. There was no way that he’d be able to feed her, not with her fussy ways. They’d lose the house, that was a certainty. Oh heavens, he’d have to put her in a nursing home and he’d have to find a flat or bedsit. That upheaval would probably kill them both off.
“I’m in Mr. Crowley but there’s no way that I’m going to touch that body.” He said.
Dominic turned away to avoid that look of hurt and betrayal etched upon Marlene’s face, he’d have to sit her down later on and explain a few facts to her, maybe then she wouldn’t be so quick to judge him.
Chapter nine
Dean Middleton replaced the lid back on his blue pen, he popped it back into the colour coded stationary holder and sat back in his office chair. It had taken him just over nine minutes to compile his list of twenty three activities he could do whilst his wife, Marie, was over in Halifax visiting her mother.
She wasn’t due back until tomorrow morning, she’d even taken their two children. Having the house to himself was such a rare opportunity, it opened up so many possibilities.
Dean leaned over and looked at the top item on his things to do list, he’d underlined the title with a red felt tip pen that belonged to his daughter. Dean really shouldn’t have stolen it in the first place but he really needed an alternate colour. She wouldn’t miss it, he drew little comfort in knowing that Jasmine wouldn’t even realise that it had gone missing. His daughter, just like her mother was such a messy individual. He’d seen land fill tips that were tidier than her bedroom. Thankfully at least his son, Sebastian had inherited some of his father’s obsession with keeping an orderly life.
The top item on the list was to set up his 360 in the living room. Just the thought of playing Call of Duty on the fifty six inch television made him go weak at the knees. He could even invite Bill and Adam over. Have a few drinks, play a few games and generally have a bit of a giggle. Just like they used to do before he was married.
He got up to put the kettle on. One of the disadvantages of being home alone was that, he had nobody to make him cups of tea. As he gazed out onto the manicured lawn, he thought back to before his days of domestication. He couldn’t actually remember one occasion when he was able a have a bit of a giggle with his two friends without him becoming stressed over how much mess they were creating. Those two had still to find a couple of nice girls and settle down.
He poured boiling water into his cup. Those two found girls every week but he doubted that they were very nice or wanted to settle down. Come to think of it, they’d probably be getting ready to go out on the pull even now. Somehow he thought that his offer of watching him destroy all his online friends wouldn’t really be good enough to tempt them over.
Maybe he could go out with them instead. Dean hadn’t written that option down on his list. It had been years since he’d been out with his friends, Marie wasn’t really the type to want to go clubbing, she was happy with her soaps and her knitting. It was odd how married life changed people, before he met his darling wife, she went out to the nightclubs at least twice a week.
He sighed and carried his cup of tea over to his chair; perhaps he should continue assessing his activity list. Number two on his list showed plenty of promise. For nearly five years, he’d been promising himself to climb up into the loft and give the place a real good tidy out. He knew that activity would take him all night. Dean doubted that he get that much tidying done though, his vast collection of marvel comics was up there. Once he’d dug them out, he just knew that he’d have to skim through at least one copy. One would inevitably lead to another, and before he knew he’d be reading the all, nothing would be able to move him.
His cup nearly slipped through his fingers when he heard the thunderous staccato banging on his front door. He carefully placed the cup down on the table and hurried through the hall. Whoever it was, it sounded urgent, perhaps it was the police. His heart beat a little faster. He knew how easily distracted his wife was whilst driving. She was always turning around to shout at the kids in the back seat. One mistake would be all it took.
Pray it isn’t them, he thought.
They banged on the door once more. He could almost see the wood bouncing in the frame. Dean fumbled with the key in the lock, his racing mind kindly showed him a few more images of what his wife and kids could look like after a head on collision with another car.
When he did finally get the door unlocked and open, Dean was rather taken aback to find a large gentleman wearing a very smart suit stood on the porch and smiling at him.
“Greetings,” he said. “My name is Talbot Field and this is not your lucky night.”
“I’m sorry,” spluttered Dean, “but whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.”
He tried to shut the door but the big man had wrapped his hand around the handle. He couldn’t budge it an inch.
“Look, could you let go of the door please? Like I just said, I don’t want to buy anything.”
The man pushed open the door and stepped into his house. “Your ordered mind drew me here, Dean, like a moth to a flame. You should thank your lucky stars that you cannot hear the others. They pollute the airwaves with all their disordered chaos.”
Dean saw the insanity in the man’s eyes, he also saw his own demise if he didn’t do something. He took his eyes off the ma
n for one moment and looked over to the coat hooks just behind the stranger. The third hook from the left hung Marie’s umbrella. His old army overcoat covered it but he knew that it was still there.
Dean left go of the banister and crept a little closer to his target. What the hell was the man doing? He appeared to have lost interest in Dean, like he’d zoned out or something, he just stared through the open doorway into the kitchen.
His hand brushed against the overcoat, he could feel the object through the thick material. That metal spike on the end of the umbrella would do a lot of damage. The man then jumped as if he’d just been given an electric shock. He slowly turned his head, that grinning madman began to laugh. Dean felt like a little kid with his hand caught in the biscuit jar.
Dean felt an itch at the back of his head. The itch grew in intensity until he thought the inside of his skull was on fire. Then the pain abruptly vanished, leaving him feeling as sick as a dog.
The madman nodded, “I ought to stick that brolly up your fucking arse.”
His arm shot forward, the man’s palm smacked into Dean’s chest and he flew back against the stairs.
“Take a pew.” Said the man.
The nausea was mild compared to the bruising that his back and arms must have sustained when he hit the sharp edges of the steps.
“There are people are dying just a mile from here, yet those dead people refuse to lie down.”
He jerked his head up; the movement reminded Dean of a lizard about to catch an insect. The man barked out braying laughter, Dean shrank back against the steps, he wished he had a gun.
“Oh dear, that’s priceless, it really is. The authorities think they have the infection contained.”