Mother’s Boys
__________________________________________________
Daniel I. Russell
BLOOD BOUND BOOKS
Copyright © 2014 by Daniel I. Russell
All rights reserved
ISBN 978-1-940250-04-5
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Artwork by Andrej Bartulovic
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition
Visit us on the web at:
www.bloodboundbooks.net
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Fallow Ground by Michael James McFarland
To the whistling man at the crossing between McDonalds and the Ormskirk park, one evening back in 2005. Sometimes the smallest of seeds creates a whole novel.
Preface
Real monsters lie within the hearts of men.
By candlelight, he turned the pages of his brother’s book. Water had swelled the volume, warping the spine and crinkling the paper. The cover, barely visible through a layer of mould, showed a rugged, aged captain pursuing a white whale across the ocean.
He closed the book and gazed up at the low, brick ceiling.
The monsters walk above, he thought, not in the dark, hidden places.
Movement in the shadows drew his attention, yet he sat still, clutching the book.
The city remained oblivious to the secret it harboured deep below the crumbling, neglected streets. He wondered what dramas would be played out on its tarmac stage, under the street lights and the stars.
The shapes in the darkness separated from the murk, and two squat figures darted towards him. Claws and teeth glinted in the flickering light from the candle.
He closed his eyes, thoughts full of men and monsters.
PART 1
1.
Samantha cocked her head, smiled and glanced up at the hair of her new drinking partner. “Has it always been that colour, Johan?” she asked. The lights of the bar shone through his stark white spikes, like frosted glass growing from his scalp. “I mean, do you dye it or anything?”
He swept a hand through his hair and it sprang back up after his fingers passed.
“People always ask me about it,” he purred, his voice clear and confident, matching his ice-cold exterior. Heat blushed in Samantha’s face. “It’s natural, every strand. Well, when I say natural, I mean I haven’t changed it myself. Something happened to make it like this…”
Samantha stirred her drink with her finger, mouth hanging open. “Really? What happened? What could do something like that? It must have been terrifying.”
Her new companion picked up his beer and took a swig. He finished with a satisfied sigh and returned the glass to the table. He looked up with pale, grey eyes.
“It might be terrifying.”
“What do you mean?” pressed Samantha.
“Well,” he said, gazing past her, “I came in here for a quiet beer, and then I saw… I saw the most beautiful girl sitting alone at the bar. I had to speak to her, and the mere thought of this goddess refusing my company horrified me to the core! Turned my hair white.”
Samantha’s intense gaze shattered. She beamed and punched him playfully on the arm.
“Hey!”
“Hey nothing,” she said.
Johan smiled and glanced over her shoulder again. “But yes, my hair has always been white. Used to get so much hassle at school…”
Samantha sipped from her wine and turned to follow his gaze. Behind her, three guys raced to chug down pints of beer while banging on the table with their free hands. The coasters trembled and moved around the surface with the heavy vibrations. Two of them, one with shoulder length blonde hair and the other with thick glasses, struggled to keep up with their chubby friend. He swallowed the last gulp and held the glass on top of his head.
“Howzat!” he cried, flecks of beer shooting from between his sausage lips.
The guy with the glasses choked, spraying beer back inside his pint glass. The blonde quit and shook his head, smiling.
“Are they bothering you?”
Samantha looked back and found her new acquaintance studying her. “Not really,” she said. “They might be a little loud though. The barman doesn’t look so happy.”
“Probably just worried about them making a mess. Some people have no class. Unlike the two of us.”
Samantha raised an eyebrow. “Two of us, eh?”
“We’ve been drinking together a good hour now,” he said, licking his lips. “I think we can qualify as a twosome.” He winked and took another sip.
Samantha fought from shuddering in delight. She’d seen Johan come in and thought her prayers had been answered when he walked over. She didn’t normally go all girly over meeting men, but those eyes! Combined with the hair, he looked so different, so mysterious. Like a traveller from a far off galaxy who had stopped off on his intergalactic trip for a quick drink.
I’d climb aboard his spaceship anytime, she thought, loving the way his misty gaze lingered on her face.
“Maybe you’re right,” she said, raising her glass. “Maybe it would be nice to be a two instead of a one.” She tilted the wine to her mouth, keeping her eyes locked on his.
“Glad we’re on the same page,” he said, slowly reaching for her hand that rested on the bar.
Samantha snatched the drink away from her mouth as something struck her from behind. Red wine sloshed over the rim of the glass and fell onto her lap, staining her miniskirt.
“Damn it!” she cried, turning around.
The blond guy from the table staggered to the side while his friends laughed. He’d obviously bumped into her, a result of too many beers judging by the state of him.
“Sorry, love,” he said, holding a hand up in a quick apology.
She jumped from the bar stool, placing the glass on the bar and holding the damp fabric of her skirt away from her legs.
“Jesus Christ! Look at this!”
Johan climbed from his stool, examining the deep purple stain.
“I only bought this yesterday…”
“I’m sorry,” said Johan.
“It’s not your fault,” she replied. “You shouldn’t apologise. It’s those arseholes over there!”
Johan placed a gentle hand onto her shoulder. “Go and get yourself cleaned up as best you can. I’ll get you that apology.”
Samantha shook her head. “Don’t. Please. It’s not worth it.”
He smiled, and she almost forgot the drying stain in her new skirt.
“Don’t stress over me. I’m not about to take them on, merely…appeal to their better sides. Go on, I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Really?”
Johan winked. “Count on it.”
Samantha scrubbed with a wet paper towel and cursed as it ripped. The stain remained, spreading out from the very centre of the front of the miniskirt. It looked like the menstrual equivalent of Old Faithful and no tampon had managed to stand in its way.
“Great,” she said, grimacing at her reflection. “Really going to impress Johan now…”
Excited as a horny schoolgirl, Samantha left her reflection behind and pushed open the door leading back into the bar.
“Sorry I took so long, I…”
Her words drifted to a stop as she looked around the bar. He’d gone, leaving behind a vacant stool and empty pint glass. The table, which previously hosted the three lager louts, had also been vacated.
She gripped her handbag tightly and approached the barman.
“Erm, excuse me,” she said. “I was just sat here and was wondering—”
“It’s okay,” he interrupted, throwing his cleaning rag into a small sink. “It’s taken care of.”
Samantha frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Your friend paid, him with the weird white hair.”
“Do you know where he went?” she asked, hoping he was in the toilet. A ball of dread started to form like a large pearl in her stomach.
The barman nodded towards the door. “He left.”
“He went out?” she asked, feeling the ball within pop from a kick to the midsection.
This can’t be happening.
“Afraid so,” said the barman, crossing his arms. “Just after those three jokers left. I’m glad to be rid.”
He turned his back on her, attending to another task.
I don’t believe this, she thought. He just left me?
She sighed.
At least it stops me having another drink. A wine after work is enough with me driving. I would have needed to get a taxi back if I’d carried on.
Slightly happier with avoiding a cab fare, she headed for the door.
Why do they always have to be like this? Surely a lonely waitress in the city should be allowed a little happiness? Even one night would do for now. Why do all men turn out to be… cunts?
She swung her handbag around her shoulder, curses swirling around her head. Her sudden rush of anger cleared the buzz from the wine and conversation.
The night felt fresh, but not too cold. Samantha took a deep breath, enjoying the freedom from the stale atmosphere of the grotty bar. Accepting her fate of another night alone, she exited the doorway and headed for the small car park at the end of the street.
Above her, the buildings loomed like mountains of brick and crumbling cement. She tried not to look at the dark windows as she passed. Made up of mostly derelict buildings, this part of the city had always been sinister to Samantha. It wasn’t the undesirables who she sometimes saw huddled in abandoned shop doorways or loitering under bridges like trolls, but the place itself. It waited with a dark purpose all its own, a kraken ready to awake. The empty windows were its eyes, the echo of the quiet streets its ears. The thought of all these buildings standing empty with only wildlife and ghosts occupying their silent rooms made Samantha want to run.
Get a grip, she thought. You’ve walked this way hundreds of times on your own at night. Nothing’s ever happened.
But doesn’t that mean I’m overdue?
She quickened her pace.
She’d be glad when the renovations finally began in this area of the city. A well-lit car park would be welcomed for her after work drinks.
Samantha looked up and down the empty street and crossed the road. On the other side, she turned right and nearly walked into the thin figure waiting around the corner. She snatched in a breath and stepped around him, trying not to show she’d been spooked. Looking straight ahead, she carried on.
“Hey,” said the stranger. “Leaving already?”
Samantha glanced over her shoulder.
The glare of the streetlights reflected in the lenses of his glasses.
“You were in the bar,” he said, his voice high and whiney.
“Yeah,” she said, carrying on walking.
“So, where you going?”
Samantha ignored him, biting her lip. Her heart had sped up, and she gasped on the night air. The guy had scared her, even though he appeared too skinny to actually do anything. Samantha believed she could take him if he decided to get physical. She wasn’t particularly muscular, but could hold her own, especially with a nerd as thin as him.
A gust of wind might blow him away.
She felt a little better, until a more threatening thought sneaked into her head.
What if he has a knife? Or a gun?
She lowered her head and walked faster, gripping onto her bag so hard her palms grew sweaty.
“Suit yourself,” he muttered.
She chanced a second look over her shoulder and saw him lean away from the wall. Instead of coming after her as expected, he turned his back and disappeared around the corner.
Thank Christ, she thought, hurrying along. Oh, Thank Christ.
Trying to put the thoughts of the strange guy aside, Samantha rummaged in her bag for her car keys. She spied the car parked a little further up the street. Looking behind her once more to check and make sure the nerd on the wall hadn’t decided to follow her after all, she pulled out her cluster of keys. Gripping them tightly in her closed fist, the keys no longer rattled against each other. The noise might sound like a dinner bell to car thieves.
Samantha reached her small, white Ford. She inserted the key into the car door and swung it wide. Throwing her bag onto the passenger seat, she climbed inside and slammed the door closed. With her elbow, she hammered down the lock by the side window.
Here, she thought, closing her eyes and lying back against the headrest. Finally, I’m here.
Safe in her metal shell, Samantha shoved the key in the ignition and started the car. In the split second before it fired, she imagined the engine releasing a cry of strained coughs. The guy in the glasses comes running…
She pressed her foot down and the engine revved.
She exhaled a sigh of relief.
Samantha fastened her seat belt and clicked on the headlights. The dark street beyond the windscreen lit up, revealing grimy buildings and litter scattered on the pavement.
Why do you do this every Friday? Coming out here in the dead of night…? Either get yourself a guy, honey, or start visiting friendlier places to drink.
She knew she wouldn’t. The bars and clubs at the centre of the city had no character, no… individuality.
Checking her mirrors and indicating, Samantha pulled out and cruised down the empty street.
The five and six-story abandoned buildings fell away as she drove out of the derelict district. She passed the park and turned at the roundabout, still not seeing another car on the road. Samantha looked at the glowing green dial on the dashboard. It showed a quarter to midnight.
Never this quiet, but at least I’ll get home quicker.
The speedometer climbed to fifty as she made her way down the two-lane carriageway. After turning on the stereo and tuning to a local station, she drummed her palms against the steering wheel in rhythm.
Need to find a new job; there are closer restaurants to work at. Or move out of the sticks and further into the city. I wonder if Natalie wants a flatmate—
She squinted, pulled from her thoughts by a flash of light bouncing off her rear view mirror. Samantha blinked a few times, trying to shift the ball of colour drifting before her eyes. At the side of her car, an engine roared.
Arseholes, she thought.
She peered to the side and gasped.
Johan, his grey eyes on the road, drove alongside. With the window open, his white hair blew back.
Samantha felt her guts squirm.
He looked to her and winked. With another deafening rumble, his car shot forwards.
“No!” she cried, pressing her foot down on the accelerator.
His car, red and slender as a bullet, shot through the darkness ahead. In seconds, his rear lights had become two glowing red eyes in the distance, like a waiting dragon. He sped into the tunnel up ahead.
At least those guys didn’t get him. But why would he leave me, catch up a
nd then leave me again?
He must like games…
Her stomach fluttered and she grinned. The car approached sixty, and she eased it around the slight bend and into the tunnel.
With no overhead lights, the tunnel seemed to head deep into the earth rather than under a small river.
Her headlights lit up the motionless red car, parked across both lanes.
“Shit!”
Samantha plunged her foot down on the brake.
Her body dove forwards, but snapped to a sudden stop as the seatbelt locked. With the belt tight across her chest, she struggled to pull in a breath. She stared through the glass, her leg and foot throbbing with the tension of pushing the pedal. The steering wheel jerked in her hands, and the car began to slide. She turned the opposite direction.
Johan’s red car vanished from view as Samantha’s Ford spun away. Her headlight beams reflected off the approaching black wall of the tunnel.
“Shit!”
The car smashed into the brickwork.
The force threw Samantha back in her seat, and her head shot forwards striking the upper ridge of the steering wheel. She flopped back.
The engine spluttered and died, leaving her collapsed in silence. Samantha’s chest burned, and her head seemed to swell. Both headlights were smashed in the collision. She saw only darkness through the windscreen, like the car had been dumped in the ocean and had sunk to the sea bed. She trembled and drew in shaking breaths.
I’ve been in a crash. I’ve been in a fucking crash—
A car door slammed.
“Wow!” said a voice. “Look at that, guys.”
“I said it would work,” another voice said, cool and relaxed. “And you three thought she’d hit us…”
“Think she’s alive?”
“After all this, she had better fucking be.”
Samantha raised a twitching hand and rubbed her forehead. It came away bloody.
“H-Help… me…” she said. Her hand collapsed back into her lap.
Mother's Boys Page 1