The Year's Best Australian Fantasy and Horror 2013

by Angela Slatter

  Harry laughed. “I thought that he just had a thing about me.”

  “He’s a nasty piece of work.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about, dear Harry.”

  * * *

  The shop was empty when Harry returned. He switched the sign on the door from back to ‘OPEN’ and then stepped into the adult books section. Harry pulled his nose up at the smell and cleaned the room. He arranged the magazines so that each shelf was neat and ordered again. Each book, every title, had a proper place and Harry was never happy until they were correct. He replaced the cover on the small double couch and went to pick up the money left on his desk. They always paid well, and it kept his business afloat, no matter how uncomfortable he felt.

  He had a lot of customers and the men would always give him a wink if they saw him down the street. Sometimes the occupants lost track of time and they left more money, while the women buttoned their business suits again. It was another reason why he was uncomfortable about the school kids going near the room. Some of the boys must have known what went on and this only made the room more of a challenge to get into whenever they visited.

  The front bell went off as the usual group of boys returned after school—minus Gilbert. His stutter returned. He sat in the corner with a book and struggled to quell his anger when the taunts commenced.

  “Got to go,” said one of the boys.

  Harry stared into his book and listened to the boy’s footsteps, waited for the door alarm to beep.

  “Yeah, sorry about your poodles, Harry. I heard Snoop’s tag was real gold too!”

  Shocked by the comment, Harry stood. Like a percussion bolt closing on a smoothly oiled revolver, his hand flashed across the bookshop counter. The boy didn’t have time to move. Harry’s hand tightened around the boy’s school tie, lifting him up onto the tips of his toes. Snoop’s ‘tag’ had never been found. Harry had bought the medallion for Kim when they got engaged. He’d put it on Snoop to remember her. Only Snoop’s killer would have known about the gold medallion. “W-W-Who told you about Snoop’s gold t-tag?”

  “Take it easy,” the boy pleaded, in a high-pitched voice. He tried to free Harry’s vice-like grip on his tie. “Everybody knows.”

  “W-Who told you?” Harry didn’t give any ground and squeezed tighter.

  “Gil told me. I don’t know if it’s true or not.”

  “Gil S-S-Smyth?”

  He nodded.

  Harry let go of him and sat down.

  “Don’t tell,” he pleaded and ran from the shop.

  Harry nodded absently. The accusation didn’t make sense. Gill was Harry’s next-door neighbour, and always offered to help look for the dogs each time they went missing. One evening as Harry was walking home after work he fell. Snoop’s body tumbled out of the icebox onto the footpath. Gilbert had turned up out of nowhere, and helped Harry put Snoop away before anyone saw. He couldn’t have been wrong about Gilbert all these years.

  Harry sensed a change stirring deep within him, not anger, more like before he went into battle. He would confront Gilbert.

  * * *

  Harry stopped at the Symth’s house after work. The small ramshackle house had seen better days and fallen into disarray after Lyn Smyth and her son moved in years before. The lawn needed mowing, and weeds grew between the cracks of the heavy flagstones that led to the porch. Harry stepped up and banged hard against the side windowpane. While he waited, he could hear a radio, and then footsteps creaked on the wooden floorboards inside. He took a deep breath and smiled as the door opened.

  Lyn Smyth opened the door and glared at him as she wiped flour from her hands.

  Harry’s stutter returned immediately. “H-Hello L-Lyn.”

  “Hello, Harry,” she said eventually. “You surprised me. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  Harry nodded. Lyn Smyth didn’t step outdoors very often. Nobody saw much of her; let alone Harry, her closest neighbour. She was a short dour woman. It was common knowledge she believed that life had dealt her an unfair hand. Harry had contributed to that. “I’ve been r-renovating the back room,” he said. “Keeps me inside most of the time.” He paused and gave her another smile. “Um, is G-G-Gil in?”

  “I think he’s in his room.” She frowned at Harry. “What’s he done this time?”

  Harry disarmed her with a smile. “Nothing, everything’s g-good.” He watched her relax.

  “Gil! Visitor!” She hollered and waited by the door until Gilbert arrived.

  “What’s he doing here?”

  “Gilbert, don’t be so rude.”

  Harry began to blink and his stutter worsened. “I-I-I’m g-getting another p-poodle!” The lie was aimed at piquing Gilbert’s interest. If what he had been told was true, then there might be a reaction.

  “That’s nice,” said Lyn and stepped away. Her eyes widened.

  Harry noticed she looked uncomfortable. Gil just stared into space disinterested.

  “Yes I spoke to the b-breeders the other day, and they said I might be able to have one of their n-next litters.” Harry watched Gil continue to stare into space. “Anyway I came over to let G-Gil know I have that b-book he w-wanted.”

  Gil frowned. “What book?”

  “W-W-One of the boys m-mentioned you wanted it while they were in the s-shop this afternoon.” Harry handed Gilbert a novel. “It’s alright, I d-don’t want anything f-for it.” He looked at Lyn Smyth and gave her a smile. “I thought Gil might like to h-help me clean out the s-storeroom one day?” The storeroom was the name on the adult’s book section door. Harry could tell that Gilbert had cottoned on because he raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. It was enough. “B-B-Better go.”

  Harry walked away and Gilbert followed.

  “Here,” Gilbert said when they were out on the roadway out of earshot. “I didn’t ask for this. What’s going on?”

  “N-N-Nothing’s going on, Gil.” Harry shook his head. “I’ll keep the b-book then.” Harry took the book from Gilbert and blinked nervously. “I just w-wanted to thank you for keeping an eye out for my d-dogs over the years, and hope that it can c-c-continue with my new one.”

  Gilbert’s voice was strained. “Sure, I’ll keep an eye out for your new dog.” He licked his lips.

  Harry noticed the subtle change in Gilbert. It was enough. “I wanted to thank you for keeping quiet about Snoop in my icebox. Come around to the shop just before closing this Friday and I’ll let you take any books you like.”

  “Sure.” Gils’s voice was monotone.

  “J-J-Just keep quiet about it. I don’t want to g-get into any trouble!”

  “Whatever. Don’t come around again. I don’t want you near my mother!” Gilbert swaggered off without another word.

  Harry shivered and rubbed his hand through his hair to stop the tingling sensation. Something twisted in the pit of Harry’s stomach. He felt uneasy. But one way or another he’d get to the bottom of it. Mackenzie deserved that much.

  * * *

  Gilbert came in right before closing; he wore his usual sullen expression, eyes downcast.

  “Anyone s-s-see you c-come in?” Harry closed and locked the door.

  “Of course not.” Gilbert curled his lip, defiant.

  “Anyone know you’re h-h-here?” Harry pressed the question, eager to know whether anyone knew Gil was there?

  “Think I’d tell anyone I was spending an evening with you?”

  “R-R-Rooms all y-yours then.”

  Gilbert smirked. He marched straight over to the adult’s book section. “Keep out until I’m done, or I’ll tell everyone what’s in your icebox!” He slammed the door shut.

  Harry put the “CLOSED” sign up. He walked over to the icebox on his desk and took off the lid. He smiled down at Snoop’s withered body. “Hello old girl.” He reached in and moved her, pulled out one of his favourite butcher’s knives. He slipped it behind him, between his belt and trousers. He pulled out a meat cleaver.
His eyes sparked as he felt the weight of the sharp cleaver in his palm; he felt alive.

  Harry strode to the adult’s section and pulled open the door.

  Gilbert turned in surprise and dropped a magazine. “Shit, you scared me . . . ”

  Harry had his hand around the boy’s throat before Gilbert could utter another word. He raised the meat cleaver high in the air, and glared at Gilbert. His hand trembled as it hovered near the boy’s head. “T-T-Tell me how you found out about Snoop’s g-gold tags. Don’t think about l-l-lying.”

  “Let go of me, stuttering freak!” Gilbert tried to pull away.

  Harry’s vice-like grip tightened.

  “I don’t know anything!”

  “L-L-Liar. N-N-Nobody ever knew about the g-gold tags except Snoop’s k-killer!”

  “Let go of me, shithead.” Gilbert tugged at Harry’s hand.

  “Tell me. I’ll k-kill you if you don’t.” Harry raised the meat cleaver higher.

  “All right.”

  Harry waited, eager for a confession, an apology.

  “Shit, they were only dogs!”

  “D-Dogs?” A chill ran through Harry. “You k-killed them? C-Cut their h-heads off?”

  Gilbert shrugged an admission.

  “W-Why?” Harry blinking worsened.

  “They barked all the time. They kept me awake.”

  “That’s your excuse?” Harry was bewildered.

  “And they crapped over our lawn.”

  Something twigged and he frowned at Gilbert. “What about the string of animals behind my back fence? All of them decapitated, mutilated over the years. That was you? Why?”

  Gilbert shrugged. “Seemed like fun at the time.”

  Harry felt himself go cold as he framed the next question.

  Gilbert followed the cleaver as it rose above his head.

  “T-Think c-carefully. W-What about-t M-M-Mack-ken-zie?”

  “She deserved it. She was useless and wouldn’t put out.”

  Disgust ran through Harry like a tidal wave. He closed his eyes as his throat tightened. A sob sprang forth and then tears poured from him over the senseless loss of his daughter, sweet wonderful Mackenzie. He opened his eyes and stared at Gil. “The police, you know they’ll lock you up forever.” He stepped closer, waved the cleaver around. Harry put his fists to his head. “Ahhh. How could you?” He shook his head. “You’re going to pay for this.” Harry let the meat cleaver fall to the floor as emotions overwhelmed him.

  “It’ll be your word against mine, and we already know what a freak the police think you are.” Gilbert bent down and picked up the knife from the floor, tested the weight in his hand. “Not bad.”

  “W-Why d-do you d-do it?” Harry stared at Gilbert, numb.

  Gilbert shrugged. “Because I can.” His lip curled. “I feel good. I tell you what. I’ll keep this knife.” He looked around the room and pointed. “And I’ll take those magazines. If you even think about calling the police, I’ll use this knife on your Alice next door. What do you think of that?”

  Harry nodded, sickened, and disgusted. All of his dogs were dead. Mackenzie had been slaughtered the same way at this animal’s hand. The boy was right; nobody would believe him. He looked up at the light swinging gently, and glanced over at the wall to the shadows images that danced. He took a deep breath, and blinked away the dark spectres that swam across his vision, but stopped. Mackenzie! Then he let them come.

  Harry snapped. A primordial cry burst from within him. Humanity needed protection from monsters like Gilbert. He pulled the knife from behind his back and lunged before Gilbert had a clue. It was as if he was back in the desert, fighting for his life once again, butchering the animals that killed their own kind in the name of war. He threw Gilbert down onto the ground and stood over him, lifted his head back like the animal at the slaughter yard he was, and twisted the knife in deep.

  “That’s for my daughter Mackenzie, and Snoop, all my dogs, and whatever you did to Alice!”

  Harry held Gilbert down, felt years of tension slip away. Blood sprayed everywhere, covered the books, and spurted over the soiled two-seater couch where the mayor had frequented. Blood ran between the cracks of the wooden floor and then slowed, pooled around Gilbert’s still body.

  When it was done, Harry picked up the meat cleaver and hacked off both of Gilbert’s legs below the knee, and then each thigh. His arms were next and then the head. This wasn’t a person, this was a monster. Everything was placed neatly on top of Gilbert’s torso; if nothing else Harry was still an excellent butcher.

  There was a knock at the door.

  Harry froze. He wiped the blood from him in a panic and strode over to the door.

  Alice stood at the door.

  “Alice, you can’t come in. I’m busy.”

  Alice held up the buckets in her hands. Each was filled with gloves and cleaning liquids. She shrugged. “I heard everything through those thin walls. If I’d have been quick enough, I’d have helped you use the knife.” She was trembling. “Let me in.”

  Harry unlocked the door and let her enter. “What did he do to you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. He got what he deserved.”

  He watched as she walked into the small back room.

  She faced him. “You go and get rid of him. I’ll clean up here.”

  Harry frowned in surprise. “This isn’t your problem.”

  “It would have been.”

  Stunned, he nodded. “Alright.”

  “Then we have to talk.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  * * *

  Harry went home and buried Snoop. He returned three times that night and filled his icebox.

  Machines could be heard all through the night at Harry’s, which was nothing unusual for the former butcher. Everyone had become accustomed to the noise of his bandsaw and mincer.

  The following morning Harry went back to the shop. He took down the adult section. Put the sofa on the back of his trailer and took it to the rubbish dump. He removed the boards on the windows and let more light into his shop. He rearranged his books and placed stories of animals where the adult books were with a sign that read ‘Snoop’s Corner’.

  * * *

  “Harry, what a surprise to see you,” said Anne when Harry went to visit again. “You understand that it’s not personal Harry. I’m only thinking of my dog’s welfare. I still won’t change my mind about giving you another poodle!”

  “No Anne, it’s okay. I brought you a gift.” Harry threw her a big smile. “You can have my icebox. I don’t want it anymore.”

  “No, I don’t think I can take it.” She hesitated and put her hand to her mouth.

  “It’s not for you.” He encouraged her with another smile. “It’s for your dogs.” He put the icebox down.

  “I heard that you sold your bookshop, Harry, and you got a new job with Stripes Meat.”

  Harry watched as Anne’s eyes darted down to the icebox. He nodded. “It was about time I sorted everything out. I start at the new butchers on Monday. I’ve moved in with Alice, too.”

  “Good for you, Harry, good for you. But I don’t know if I can take your kind gift of the icebox.”

  “Of course you can. I’d better be off. Don’t let the icebox stay in the sun too long, Anne.”

  “Any news on Gilbert Smyth’s disappearance, Harry?” said Anne.

  Harry shook his head.

  “I heard he ran away,” said Mavis.

  “He’s probably off tormenting other people. Nothing good will come of that boy.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, Anne.” Harry threw her a smile and strode to his car. It was true that the town didn’t seem to care about Gilbert.

  He stood by his car and watched while Anne stared at the icebox. Both women’s voices were clear.

  “Open it up for goodness sake, Anne.” Mavis insisted. “Let’s find out what his secret is, once and for all.”

  Mavis rubbed her hands together while Anne slowly lifte
d the lid.

  “Oh Mavis, look. That Harry is such a nice man,” she said. “It’s full of mince for the dogs.”

  “Not like any mince I’ve ever seen,” said Mavis.

  “No, it’s probably chicken or pork, but I’m sure that the poodles will love it all the same. All this time I was worried about this icebox.” She laughed.

  “I was too.” Mavis admitted.

  “I thought I’d find one of his poodles in it! After all that, it’s just mincemeat that he has been carrying around while he pined over his lost dogs.”

  “Harry’s a good man,” said Mavis.

  “The dogs will enjoy it.”

  “Did you notice that Harry looks taller all of a sudden? His nervous blinking is gone?” said Mavis.

  Anne nodded in agreement. “His stutter’s gone too. Whatever he’s doing he should keep it up!”

  Harry chuckled as he drove off.

  The Camp Follower

  Trudi Canavan

  Contrary to what the soldiers said, it was not after battle that Captain Reny enjoyed the services of the whore in his tent. After battle, he was too exhausted to do more than wash off the blood and gore, even if he only ever fought when the king decided to join the fight, or to protect his leader. Reny was too old for the victorious lustful celebration the soldiers imagined their commanders enjoyed.

  It was during the time between battles, after long meetings to discuss strategy, that he made use of the woman. Aside from the physical release and the sensual pleasure, he gained something even more valuable—a time in which he was free from thought and care. The past and the future did not penetrate his mind.

  But all too soon he would be lying awake, his mind starting to dwell on matters best forgotten or ignored. As he was now.

  To delay the return of those memories, he looked down at the woman sleeping on the floor beside his narrow stretcher-bed, and thought about her instead. She’d told him her name was Kala, but he doubted that was her true name. It was too common among the camp followers. Apparently it meant ‘lucky charm’, which was far too appealing a name in a time of war to be a real one.