Torment

by Leanne Wood

  Spatters of rain began to hit his face. Exhaustion dragged at him, and he feared he couldn’t go on. The ground became slippery underfoot. He needed to rest. And while he hadn’t heard his attacker for some time, they could still be close. Hide. That’s what he needed to do. Hide and rest. He found a large log and collapsed to the ground. He smeared his face, arms and legs with mud and dirt and pulled at the thick bushes, snapping off branches, twigs and leaves – anything he could use as camouflage. He pressed his back against the rough bark and prayed no snakes lay waiting to strike. On his side he lay perfectly still, head resting on his cold and throbbing hands. He listened.

  The bush was filled with incidental crackles and pops, creatures buzzed and chirped. He knew his attacker was still out there, hunting him. He huddled next to the log and hid the best he could. His attacker could be anywhere, and that induced a fear he’d never before felt.

  In the darkness, rain hammered down and Pierre shivered. Maybe the rain would cover the sound of his trembling. He closed his eyes and fell asleep surrounded by the creatures in the night.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  D

  uke Sharpe stomped up the front steps to his verandah, swearing and cursing, annoyed at his failure. He kicked off his muddy boots and yelled for his wife. Dekota followed closely behind. Both were drenched. Both were cold and hungry. They’d been buddies for over nine years – the two went everywhere together. They appreciated each other’s company. Duke was somewhat of a loner; a resilient type who loved a good challenge. Besides his wife and Dekota, he didn’t have any friends. Some people believed he was a little crazy, but he didn’t care what people thought. Dekota was a gentle giant, protective and loyal, at times bull-headed. Duke appreciated his company. Without Dekota farming life would be extremely lonely.

  Releasing a loud sigh, Duke threw his hat onto the backrest of the rocking chair and tugged at his long jacket – it was soaked and heavy. It hit the wooden floorboards with a slap. Water pooled around it. Dekota shook and watched then walked back over to the top of the stairs and peered through the pelting rain and out into the darkness.

  Duke glanced at him wondering what was going through his mind. Something wasn’t right. Dekota took a step back, and Duke joined him, staring out into the night. He could see nothing. The steady thrum of rain battering the corrugated roof filled his ears. He inhaled the purity in the air. Dekota lowered his head and cautiously stepped forward next to his friend. Wild wind whisked up the valley, and cold rain lashed their faces. Both retreated under the awning closer to the front door. Something was definitely out there in the dark. Duke wrapped his hand around the door handle and yanked the screen door open. He was relieved to be home. He would eat, change into dry clothes and head back out after some rest.

  “Jan, can you grab us some towels,” he yelled, as he stuck his head inside the door.

  Dekota stood trembling to the right of him.

  “Are you there Jan?”

  Jan popped around the corner and appeared flustered. Her brown hair was tightly pulled back from her flushed cheeks. A bright floral apron protected her flowing pink dress. Flour covered her hands. She dashed towards the front door, fear in her eyes. Duke knew they’d been due back hours earlier.

  “Oh my, what’s happened? Are you okay? You’re saturated! You’ll catch your death,” she said in a panic. “Take your clothes off… hang on, just let me clean my hands and grab you some towels.”

  She returned moments later with two towels then quickly retreated inside so she could serve them dinner. Duke dried himself off then limped down the hallway and flopped onto the lounge in front of the fire. Watching the flames was mesmerising. Focusing on the golden flickers, he began to calm. The warmth wrapped around his body. His stomach growled, as he inhaled the aroma of rich beef and vegetable stew. Dekota stayed outside on the verandah. His focus was still on the dark. Duke shook his head as he recalled their evening. He couldn’t be bothered with Dekota. He was tired and hungry. The only thing he wanted was a nice hot meal followed by an early night to bed. Dekota ate his dinner alone. Duke ate with his wife. Both licked their bowls clean.

  “I think I might have an early night,” Duke said to Jan. “I have a lot to do in the morning. Dekota and I will have an early start. Have to check the pump at the dam is still working and the tractor needs an oil change. I also want to take a stroll over towards the old quarry. I’m not sure but something doesn’t feel right. I think I’ll take my gun tomorrow,” he said, as he reached forward and placed his hands closer to the flames.

  “What do you mean?” Jan asked, as she stuck her head into the lounge room.

  “It’s nothing to worry about,” he told her. “I just think I’ll take my gun, so if you hear some shooting you know it will be me.”

  “Oh, okay dear. Well, I’m going into town tomorrow, so I probably won’t hear much of anything. I have my quilters club luncheon and I probably won’t be home till near dinner time.”

  Duke smiled. He liked it when Jan went to town; she always bought back special treats. They had been happily married for nearly twenty years and although he wasn’t a social person he knew she enjoyed her quilters club, weekly catch-ups with her friends from croquet and all the gossip her ears could absorb.

  Walking into the kitchen, he gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek and said his good night. Jan was a night owl. He would be fast asleep by the time she made it to bed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  P

  ierre woke to a cracking noise. His body was cold, wet and aching. The ground that had appeared soft when he had taken rest, was now hard and unforgiving. His left hip ached and his legs felt stiff. Cautiously, he stuck his head up from under his covering of twigs and scanned his surrounds. He was unsure how much time had passed – it was still dark. He couldn’t see any movement. Lowered his head, he closed his eyes and tried to gather his thoughts. At least the rain has stopped.

  Lying in the dark, he questioned why everything was happening. Doubt began to peck his mind. Was he right in assuming it was Bridget Tilner? His attacker wore boots and a coat, but boots and a coat could be worn by anyone. He had screwed over so many people, and had countless enemies. But would someone hate him so much they wanted him dead? And what had happened to Samuel and Arthur? Was it their screams he’d heard? Their cries for help that had fallen silent? Jesus. Were they dead? Would Bridget Tilner go that far? Or, could it be someone else?

  His terrifying predicament forced him to reflect over his life and the wrongs he had done. He’d used his large build to intimidate people into submissiveness. He’d threatened and bullied, harassed and harangued. Samuel Easton and Arthur Fuller had been his strongest allies, his henchmen. He’d used their support to back up his allegations. The three were united, a force to be reckoned with. What if someone had decided enough was enough?

  Pierre hadn’t been able to clearly identify the voice. They’d whispered. What had they said? Hear no evil, see no evil, and speak no evil. And they’d referred to him as an evil ape. Pierre closed his eyes and wracked his brain. Fuck. His attacker could be anyone. It was common knowledge the three friends went away for a mate’s week. They also never mentioned where they went. And their week away was always at the same time of year.

  Darrell Dawson immediately popped into his head. He worked with all three, and had recently threatened that he’d make them all pay. Pierre had been assigned to work on a job that would see him finish his shift later than he desired, and he hadn’t wanted to miss out on his drinking time. He’d approached Darrell and asked if he wanted to swap shifts. Darrell had declined, saying if he accepted the swap, he’d have to pay additional childcare he couldn’t afford. Darrell was a single dad. Arthur Fuller then spoke to Darrell, suggesting it would be in his best interest to accept the swap. Darrell stood firm and insisted he would not. In the end it didn’t matter what Darrell insisted. The three attacked his work performance, threatened Darrell would lose hi
s job if he dared cross them again.

  “We’re going to have a vote of no confidence,” they said.

  Management directed Darrell to change with Pierre. The reason behind their decision was, additional training required. Samuel Easton was the workplace-training officer. He submitted false evidence to support his claim. Darrell Dawson didn’t stand a chance. It was three against one. They always won. A single person couldn’t argue against the word of three. Maybe this was the payback. Darrell had requested annual leave.

  Then there was Stephanie from Accounts Receivable. Pierre had plied her with alcohol at a recent work function. He had sweet talked her and convinced her to go outside with him. He had fucked her in the car park against the cold hard metal of his car. He looked at her as just another notch on his belt. She had told Pierre that her partner had found out. She said he had forgiven her, as she had been drunk. Her partner blamed Pierre and held him responsible. Pierre had coerced her outside. Samuel Easton and Arthur Fuller had been there. They had stood as lookouts. Stephanie was upset. She insisted it wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t had been so drunk. She believed her drinks had been spiked, and said her partner had threatened he would have their guts on a plate.

  There were so many more people from Wolf Industries they had collectively wronged. Then there were family members.

  Arthur’s soon to be ex-wife could have held them responsible for Arthur’s cheating. She had accused Pierre and Samuel of condoning his actions. Pierre knew she’d seen the photos, and said she would make them pay. She’d told them she wished they would all disappear off the face of the earth.

  Samuel Easton’s daughter Sharon was a rebellious teenager. Teenagers were resourceful. Sharon despised her father and his mateship mentality. She openly expressed feelings of hatred towards her father and his mates. She claimed Pierre and Arthur were responsible for corrupting her father, said they had a warped sense of how women should be treated. They had polluted her father’s mind with ridiculous claims that males were the superior sex. She’d said she wished they all died, and claimed women no longer needed men.

  Closer to home was his partner Judy. Two weeks ago she’d insisted he make her the sole beneficiary of his superannuation. Had she insisted on the change so she could kill him off and walk away a free and rich woman?

  And what about the big man himself? Sitting high on the top of the capability scale was Edward Wolf, owner of Wolf Industries. Rich and powerful, the man could do just about anything he wanted. If you had money you could buy anything, even the services of a hit man. Edward openly loathed Pierre. The two had had many heated confrontations. Edward had stared Pierre in the face, had threatened he would take him out. The Union had protected his position, but the Union could only protect him so much. Maybe Edward had hired a hit man. A man of Wolf’s standing didn’t get where he was by being a nice guy. Could he be considered dangerous? With the three of them gone, the slate would be clean. Edward could ensure compliant replacements were hired.

  Was Pierre the ultimate target? Were they all on the hit list? Or was he simply collateral damage? Tears welled in his eyes. He’d been an arsehole, a total arsehole. He was bloodied, black and blue. Where would his nightmare end? Maybe it was a case of mistaken identity or they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The possibilities were endless.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  D

  uke Sharpe’s eyes fluttered open. The bedroom was dark, and he could feel the warmth of his wife as she snuggled next to him. She was asleep, snoring like a wood saw. Checking the time, he couldn’t afford to stay in bed. Today he was on a mission. He wiped the sleep from his eyes, stretched and yawned, then slowly pulled himself out of bed ensuring he didn’t fluff the covers. He slipped his feet into his slippers and stretched again. His body ached. The timber floorboards were always cool in the morning, and as he snuck out into the hallway, he tried to avoid spots on the floor he knew would creak. Every morning he followed the same routine.

  Before Jan went to bed she would ensure the kettle was full of water and his mug contained a teaspoon of coffee. All he had to do was flick on the kettle, have a shower and get dressed into the clean clothes she had laid out for him in the lounge room. Then he would sip on his coffee and place his empty mug in the sink. Clean boots would meet him at the front door, as would Dekota. Dekota was always ready and waiting.

  Only this morning Dekota was missing. Duke wondered if he had wandered down to the dam. He was annoyed he hadn’t waited. He crept back inside and opened his gun safe, snatching out his rifle and grabbing his ammunition. Yelling for Dekota would be ridiculous; Jan needed her rest. She had a busy day ahead. Duke was happy she would be out for the entire day. Her socialising appeared to energise her spirits.

  With Jan gone, Duke would go about his business undisturbed. With his rifle over his shoulder and a torch in his hand, he headed down the dirt track towards the back of his property. It was vital he start his day early before heat filled the sky. He was pleased the rain had stopped. And he was sure he would meet up with Dekota along the way.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  A

  twig snapped behind the log. Pierre feared the worst. He tried to lower himself to the ground, but he could get no lower. His heart raced, and he searched through the darkness for an escape route. If he left his move too late, he could be caught.

  Another snap. Closer this time. Branches and twigs cracked. Leaves crunched. Pierre swallowed hard. It had to be his attacker. He had to leave. Now or never. He lifted his body slightly and lent on his elbow. He pumped his fingers back and forth. They were cold and riddled with pins and needles from the weight of his resting head. He wriggled his numb feet and tried to get the blood flow to his cold and stiffened legs. He feared making a noise would alert his attacker to his exact location. Three, two, one… Pierre leapt to his feet and took off running as fast as he could.

  The hunt was on.

  Branches smacked into his face, and he held out his hands in an effort to protect his eyes. The overgrown shrubs blinded him. He staggered then fell. He struggled to his throbbing feet. It felt like he’d been running forever. But he couldn’t afford to stop. His head collided with a low-lying branch, and he was knocked to the ground. Pain throbbed through his forehead, but he couldn’t give up. He had come too far to give up now. Reaching out, he wrapped his bleeding hands around a rough tree trunk. Steadied himself as he forced himself back to his feet. The world spun. The trees began to close in around him. The air became thick, and Pierre struggled to breathe. He staggered towards a break in the trees, catching a glimpse of the morning sun.

  Something caught his foot, and he tripped. This time his fall was unforgiving. Pierre’s outstretched hands failed to grab anything, as his body hurtled down the steep slope. He tumbled for what felt like an eternity. His cries were brief as his body thumped into protruding rocks and broken branches. Half way down the earth gave way and he was sent plummeting through the air.

  Bones snapped. His knee popped. His head smashed into the rocky ground with a loud thud. The air was forced from his lungs, and his left leg extended in a direction it was not supposed to go. He gasped then released an agonising scream.

  Blood seeped from his ear. He could not move. A strained and heavy wheezing echoed. He was sure he was alone but strange noises and a trembling fear surrounded him. His breath became ragged. His toes went numb. A deep and aching cold filled every part of him. The world began to dim.

  Sucking in dust and dirt, he saw something or someone move in the distance. But his fight was over. His body was a mass of abrasions, lacerations, contusions and shattered bones. He closed his eyes and prayed he would be rescued.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  T

  he sun was beginning to rise when Daniel’s mobile phone vibrated in his pocket. He shoved his hand in to retrieve it, hoping it was Bridget. It was not. Although, it was a phone call he had been waiting for.

 
“Dr Taylor, thanks for getting back to me.”

  “Good morning Daniel, I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time. I just read your e-mail about Bridget Tilner. I have to say I’m not in the position to take on any new clients. In fact, I’ve had to close off my books to new clients. It seems the publicity around mental health has created an influx of people seeking help,” he said.

  Daniel sighed and rolled his eyes. It wasn’t the response he had wanted to hear. Without a new therapist, he would not be able to move forward with Bridget.

  “I understand what you’re saying, Simon. Maybe we could work together on this. Maybe, I could take on one or two of your clients to free up your books. Bridget needs someone. I’ve been seeing her for years, but I’m just afraid I’m too close to make the progress she needs,” he pleaded, as he paced.

  There was only silence on the other end of the call. Daniel could hear Simon breathing on the other end of the line. He closed his eyes and prayed the man was giving his proposal great consideration. They’d known each other for years. Both had attended seminars together, and had an easy friendship.

  Finally, he spoke. “I’ll tell you what, let me go through my books and check my client list. I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll see if there’s something we can work out."