Dead Water

by Tim O'Rourke

  Potter caught me looking at him, and raising an eyebrow, he said, “What?”

  “Nothing,” I whispered, turning away and sliding open the van door.

  Potter brushed past me as I climbed inside, his hand deliberately coming to rest against my thigh. As he went, he leaned in close to me and whispered, “You may hate me, sweet-cheeks, but you just can’t stop looking at me.”

  “Dream on,” I muttered under my breath, yanking the van door closed in his face. I caught sight of Potter smirking to himself as he climbed into the seat next to Murphy. I so badly wanted to wipe that smile from his arrogant looking face. I clenched my fists and sat on them.

  “Looks like we’ve got company,” Murphy suddenly said from the front of the van.

  I glanced up to see a car heading down the narrow lane towards us. Although it was just black in colour, we knew it was an unmarked police car, because of the removable blue light attached to the roof. “Real cops or Skin-walkers?” I breathed.

  “Either way, we’re fucked,” Potter said. “It isn’t going to take them too long to figure out we’re the ones who ripped up their friends back here yesterday. I knew it was a bad idea coming back to this field.”

  “You never said,” I reminded him.

  “Would you have listened?” Potter remarked, glancing over his shoulder at me.

  “Let me do the talking,” Murphy said, swinging open the van door once more and climbing out.

  Leaning forward in my seat, I watched Murphy stand in front of the van. The other police vehicle crawled slowly down the track, its thick tyres throwing up snow and slush. I peered ahead and could see four cops wedged into the unmarked patrol car.

  “There’s four of them,” I told Potter.

  Without saying anything back, Potter pushed open the van door and climbed out.

  “Where are you going?” I hissed. “Murphy said to leave it up to him.”

  Potter slammed the door shut and joined Murphy in front of the van. Here we go again, I thought to myself, sliding open the van door and jumping out. I joined Murphy and Potter as the car came to a juddering halt in the snow. Murphy and Potter gave each other one quick, knowing look. It was like they had some kind of telepathic link. But despite their constant bickering and sniping at each other, they were a team – a partnership. Both were able to anticipate the other’s next move and both had each other’s back. It seemed that no father and son or any two brothers had the loyalty these two men showed one another when they were in trouble. Their friendship was unbreakable.

  The driver’s door to the patrol car slowly creaked open. A giant of a man climbed out of the vehicle. His police cap was pressed flat on the top of his huge, round head, the beak pulled down too far; the rim almost touched the tip of his long nose. He was dressed all in black, his police uniform immaculate – something Murphy would have been proud of. From the passenger’s seat climbed another cop. This one was smaller than the first, but carried in his hand a long, black rod which hissed and spat tiny blue sparks. The back doors opened on either side of the vehicle like a set of wings. The last two cops climbed out, and I could see that one of them was female. The four cops came forward.

  Standing before us, the huge cop looked bigger, like some kind of freaky giant. The other swung the Taser in his fist like a club. The last two hung back.

  “Who are you?” the giant cop asked, his dark eyes peering out at us from beneath the beak of his cap.

  “We’re cops,” Potter said.

  Now I don’t know if Potter was being a wise arse, but all the same, it seemed like a stupid thing to say.

  “I can see that,” the cop growled, his voice sounding deep and throaty.

  I saw the two silver pips on each of his shoulders. He was an Inspector, and he outranked Murphy.

  “You’ll have to forgive Constable Gabriella,” Murphy cut in. “He is still young in service. He obviously didn’t understand your question.”

  “How many ways have I got to tell you, Sarge – its Gabriel! Gabriella is a freaking girl’s name!” Potter glared at Murphy.

  The Inspector looked at both Murphy and Potter in disbelief as they stood and argued. “Listen here, you couple of morons, I couldn’t give a crap what your name is. You need to get your act together and smarten up. Just look at yourselves. You’re a complete mess.”

  “See, Gabriella, I told you you’re untidy and need to smarten yourself up,” Murphy grunted. “But oh no, you wouldn’t listen to me. And now the Inspector has seen you looking like a sack of shit, and we’re both in trouble.”

  “I don’t look like a sack of shit!” Potter snapped back at Murphy, taking a cigarette from his coat pocket and lighting it. “I wear my uniform with pride. Anyway, you’ve got no room to talk – you’re wearing carpet slippers, for fuck’s sake!”

  “Is this some sort of a joke?” the Inspector roared. “I don’t believe what I’m hearing and seeing. How dare you stand there and smoke...”

  “Shit! I’m sorry, guvnor,” Potter said, taking another cigarette from his coat pocket and offering it to the Inspector. “How rude of me – I should have offered you one, too.”

  “If you don’t fancy a cigarette, I’ve got a pipe you can have a suck on,” Murphy cut in, fishing his pipe from his coat pocket.

  The Inspector looked at both Murphy and Potter as if dumbstruck. Then, as if noticing me for the first time, he said, “And who are you, the sidekick?” Unlike my friends, I wasn’t dressed in police uniform.

  Before I’d had a chance to say anything, Potter cut in and said, “This is our prisoner. We’ve arrested her.”

  “For what?” the Inspector scowled, and just for a moment, I saw a spark of yellow glint in his dull eyes. Potter had been right. We were fucked.

  “For killing all those cops out here yesterday,” Murphy said, now puffing thoughtfully on his pipe.

  The Inspector eyed me up and down, then looked back at Murphy. “You seriously expect me to believe that this young girl was responsible for killing all those police officers yesterday?”

  “Yep,” Murphy said, blowing smoke casually from between his lips.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw the two cops at the back reach for their long Taser sticks.

  “I know she doesn’t look like much, but you should see her in action. Believe me she can be a real tiger when she wants to be,” Potter smiled at the Inspector. Then winking at me, Potter added, “Isn’t that right?”

  “Sure is,” I said, swinging my arm at speed towards the Inspector. Without even having to think about it, my razor-sharp claws sprang from my fingers and buried themselves in the Inspector’s throat. A jet of hot, black blood shot back at me, splashing my face. The Inspector threw his hands to his throat. They gripped my wrist, trying to pull my claws from his jugular. His blood pumped over my fist and down my arm in hot, sticky waves. He made a gargling sound in the back of his throat as he tried to scream. Blood sprayed from his open mouth and coated Potter.

  “Now my uniform is a mess,” he groaned, tearing the coat from his back as he sprang into the air. In a flutter of black shadows, his wings were free. He clasped the head of the nearest cop in his claws. With one sudden and blindingly quick twist, he tore the cop’s head clean off. The head came away from the neck so clean and fast, that the body stood momentarily in the snow, until it toppled over.

  The Inspector stopped struggling and fell still. I slid my claws from the jagged hole they had made in his throat. He collapsed backwards into the snow, where the blood pumping from his throat turned the road crimson. I ran the back of my hand down the side of my face, wiping away the splashes of blood that were there. With my stomach leaping at the sight and smell of the blood, and knowing that the Lot-13 was close to running out, I closed my eyes and licked my fingers clean. The Inspector’s blood felt hot and tasted sweet in my mouth. I swallowed hard and felt the blood warm the back of my throat. It felt more than good, but I didn’t want to come to enjoy that sensation.

  I op
ened my eyes to see the last two remaining cops pulling their uniforms free as their bodies bristled with fur. I stared at the female officer in fascination and with morbid curiosity, as her body began to twist and stretch out of shape as she took the form of a wolf. Her fur was white and sleek, covering her long, slender body from head to toe. An elegant-looking tail snaked from her hind quarters as she leapt into the air, her jaws foaming. Was there something like that hiding deep inside of me? I feared, ripping my coat free. With my wings springing from my back, I lunged at her. We met mid-air, clattering onto one another. She howled, her giant jaws spraying foam just inches from my face. The little black claws at the tips of my wings grabbed for her as we spun around and around in the air. Her fur felt like silk as I raked my claws along the length of her back. She barked and yelped in pain as we fell through the sky. As the ground raced up towards us, I saw Murphy removing his uniform and folding it into a neat pile on the driver’s seat of the police van. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry.

  We thudded into the snow. With my huge black wings arrowed out behind me, I sat astride the wolf as it kicked wildly out with its back legs, trying to scratch at my face with is giant front paws. The wolf’s bright yellow eyes rolled in their wet sockets. The thought that somewhere deep inside of me was a wolf just like this one terrified me. With fear and dread consuming me, I clawed and ripped frantically at the fighting wolf. My claws sliced and slashed open giant wounds. Slick-looking entrails and tufts of blood-soaked fur shot up into the air as I tore the wolf to pieces. Somewhere inside of me, a voice was urging me on. It was as if by killing this wolf, I was killing the one I feared hiding deep within me.

  Suddenly, I felt a firm hand grip my shoulder. “That’s enough,” I heard a voice say.

  Covered in blood, flesh, and fur, I opened my eyes. Murphy was leaning over me and looking into my face. “The wolf is dead, Kiera. The wolf is dead.”

  Slowly, I stopped clawing and tearing. Gasping for air, I clambered off what was left of the wolf. Murphy helped me to my feet. I stood in the scarlet snow, panting and sighing, my face, arms and wings dripping with blood.

  “What have I done?” I panted, looking at Murphy.

  “What needed to be done, if any of us were to survive,” he said flatly.

  “I tore it to shreds,” I said, blood dripping from my claws and spattering the snow at my feet.

  “And it wouldn’t have thought twice about doing the same to you,” Potter said, suddenly appearing beside me.

  His long, black tattered wings hung from his back, the tips of them trailing in the snow. He was naked to the waist, and his well-defined body was splashed with blood, as were his claws and forearms. I had to fight the sudden urge to be held by him, to be pressed against him. To feel that warm, sticky blood and his body moving against mine. I looked away.

  “I killed the last of them, Sarge,” Potter breathed deeply.

  “Not the last of them,” Murphy grunted. “Just the start of them. There are plenty more where they came from.”

  I looked at Murphy.

  “Let’s clean this mess up and get on our way,” Murphy added, heading back towards the road.

  Chapter Six

  Kiera

  Together we carried the remains of the wolves down the lane and hid them beneath the snow-covered bracken and thistles at the edge of a ditch.

  “What we can’t find, the foxes will eat,” Murphy said.

  I felt soiled and dirty somehow, and although earlier I had enjoyed the taste of the Inspector’s blood. I now just wanted to be rid of it. I wanted to shower and scrub the blood of those wolves from my body. I was desperate to wear some clean clothes. We trudged back up the road, towards the police van and the unmarked patrol car. It was then I spied the female officer’s uniform scattered along the lane wear she had pulled it free during her transformation into a wolf. Bending down, I gathered up the clothes. I went to the back of the van, climbed inside, and closed the door.

  Alone, I began to undress. The passenger side door suddenly flew open, and Potter was looking in at me. I crossed my arms over my breasts.

  “Do you mind?” I snapped at him.

  “What are you doing?” Potter asked, staring at me.

  “Getting out of these blood-soaked clothes, what does it look like?” I hissed.

  “Okay, but hurry up. The Sarge wants to get going,” Potter shut the door, leaving me alone again.

  I screwed my dirty, torn clothes into a ball and stuffed them under the nearest seat. Then, almost bent double in the confined space at the back of the van, I put on the female officer’s uniform. As I buttoned up the shirt, I couldn’t remember the last time I had worn a police uniform. It must have been back in the Ragged Cove, I thought. That seemed like a whole lifetime ago now. Once dressed, I clambered from the van and back out into the cold. Potter was leaning against the van, smoking a cigarette. He looked me up and down. I closed the van door and headed towards the unmarked car where Murphy was removing the blue emergency light from the roof.

  “Hey, tiger,” Potter said gripping hold of my arm and spinning me around to face him.

  “What?” I said, looking into his dark eyes.

  “Seeing you dressed like this again reminds me of why I fell in love with you,” he smiled at me.

  “How come?” I asked.

  Leaning in close, Potter whispered in my ear, “I’d forgotten how damn good your sweet cheeks looked in uniform.”

  I eased myself away from him, sliding my arm from his grip. “We should get going,” I said. “Murphy’s right, more of those Skin-walkers could come back at any time.” Turning my back and leaving him alone by the van, I made my way down the narrow country lane towards Murphy.

  “Get in,” Murphy said, as I reached the vehicle.

  “What about the van?” I asked.

  “We’re gonna stand out in that,” he said. “If we’re going to reach the Dead Waters alive, we need to keep our heads down. We can’t afford to draw any more unwanted attention to ourselves. Riding around in a big white van with luminous yellow and blue squares all over it ain’t my idea of being inconspicuous.”

  “So, where to now?” I said, climbing into the passenger seat. I knew Potter always liked to sit up front, and I smiled inwardly as I took my seat next to Murphy.

  “We find somewhere to clean up and get some rest,” Murphy said. Then, without warning he blasted the horn three times. The sound was deafening and echoed back off the fields and rolling hills. Leaning out of the window, he hollered at Potter, “Stop standing there with your thumb up your arse! We need to be out of here already.”

  “I thought we weren’t meant to be drawing any attention to ourselves?” I said, the sound of the horn still ringing in my ears.

  Murphy grunted and started the engine.

  Potter mooched down the road, the tails of his long, black coat flapping around his legs, like his wings so often did. He looked at me sitting up front, scowled like a schoolboy, and climbed into the back, slamming the door behind him.

  “Everything okay?” I asked, trying to hide a smile.

  “Just perfect,” he sniped, shutting his eyes and leaning back in his seat.

  Taking great care in the snow, Murphy steered the car around the abandoned police van, and in silence, we headed down the desolate road and towards the hills in the distance.

  We drove for what seemed like hours across the bleakest land I had ever seen. The sky had turned from white to a dirty, washed-out grey, and I suspected that another storm was on its way. Conversation was non-existent between the three of us, and the atmosphere inside the car was as cold as the wind, which howled across the fields on either side of the roads we travelled. Every so often we would pass a derelict-looking outhouse, farmhouse, cottage, or barn. Murphy would slow and look at the building as it sailed past. I knew he was searching for some suitable place for us to stay for the night. The only places that looked semi inhabitable had smoke coiling up from the chimneys, telling us that
they were already occupied by their rightful owners.

  As the sky grew darker still, and the fresh flakes of snow began to swirl down from the sky, Murphy stopped the vehicle by a narrow lane, which wound away into the darkness to our right. Barely visible behind a clump of wild ivy, there was a sign sticking up out of the ditch which ran alongside the road. In red letters, the word ‘Campsite’ had been written. Without saying a word, Murphy turned into the narrow lane and headed up the hill.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Potter suddenly spoke up from the back of the car.

  “Got a better suggestion?” Murphy said.

  “I don’t want to piss all over your plan, Sarge, but this ain’t the weather for camping,” Potter groaned. “We haven’t even got a tent.”

  “They’ll have an empty caravan or two,” Murphy said, his eyes fixed on the narrow lane ahead.

  “What if they are all booked up?” Potter shot back.

  “In this weather?” Murphy snapped. “Give me a break.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Potter said. “We’re the only fucking Muppets dumb enough to take a camping holiday in sub-zero temperatures.”

  “Quit complaining,” Murphy said, as we passed through an open gate. “It might be quite nice.”

  “I wouldn’t describe freezing my freaking nuts off as being nice,” Potter moaned. “Or perhaps you’re planning on us all sitting around a campfire while you sing songs and pass around the marshmallows?”

  “One more wisecrack from you, Potter, and I’m gonna smash you in the mouth,” Murphy barked, pulling the vehicle to a halt outside a small cottage. Then, glancing at me, he added, “Zip that coat up and hide your uniform. We don’t want anyone here knowing we’re coppers. I don’t think they’re trusted in this world.”