by Max Hardy
‘You might not have noticed, but one of your contact lenses came out when you fell down into our pit. Your false teeth dropped out too and for some reason, you appear to have some latex prosthetics on your face. So Annie Tait, would you like to tell me who you are?’
‘I think you know the answer to that Pastor Bentley.’ Eve slurred, movement coming back into her body as she stretched against her restraints.
‘Oh father, she is feisty. Can I play? Please, please can I play?’ Dessie pleaded, bouncing up and down on the opposite side of the bench.
‘Alright, but just a little, you know how excited you get.’
‘I am already dripping Father, already ready for you.’ Dessie’s voice went deep and sensual as she picked up a small bone saw from the instrument table. ‘You might want to answer father’s question directly, rather than with another question. I will stop sawing when you do.’ Dessie finished, looking manically and smiling wildly down at Eve, who just looked back calmly and said nothing.
Dessie’s face filled with fury. ‘Alright Miss Smarty-pants, see how you like this!’ She thrust the saw into the flesh of Eve’s arm, just above the binding securing her wrist and started to cut fervidly, watching Eve’s face as she did. Eve’s features didn’t flinch, not even when the rough serrated saw tore through the tendons and started gnawing into the bone, shattered splinters bursting into the muscle. All she did was perspire and purse her lips. Dessie became even more furious at the lack of screaming and at the lack of an answer and at the new sensation of not being in control. She forced the saw through the bone even more vehemently, breaking all the way through, blood spurting all over Eve’s naked body, all over Dessie’s dress, pools of it collecting in the indents around the bench. The saw screeched on the stainless steel bench, the whole hand flopping away from the arm, amputated.
Pastor Bentley wheeled the bowl of tar around to where Dessie stood and picked up the severed hand as Dessie grabbed Eve’s arm and thrust it into the liquid tar. Eve groaned, biting her lip until a single drop of blood oozed out. But she didn’t scream, and after a second, as Dessie placed her tarred stump back on the bench, her face once again wore serene.
Dessie was furious, her features incandescent with rage. Pastor Bentley passed her the severed hand and spoke to her calmly. ‘Settle down Desiderata. This one is special. She is something different. Taste her, feast on her, let her body become yours and you will know her.’ he said, looking directly into Eve’s eyes.
Dessie took the hand from her father and lifted it to her lips, sucking the blood off the severed stump, then pulled the raw sinewed flesh off the bone and chewed it heartily as she too looked down upon Eve.
‘Thank you Pastor Bentley for showing me who you are.’ Eve said, her voice measured with a slight edge of intimidation. ‘You know who I am. I am Eve. He will have told you all about me. And if he has told you who I am, then you will know there is nothing you can do to me that I will ever fear. But you should fear me. You should fear me because you have shown me who you are: and now that I know who you are, I know what you fear. Before my moons denouement tonight Pastor Bentley, the world will know what you fear.’
Chapter 37
A gentle breeze wafts the salty sea air into my nostrils as we walk along the stony shoreline just around the corner from the North Queensferry Peninsula, underneath the Forth Road Bridge. Battery Road, where Bentley’s house sits perched on top of the peninsula is visible across the small harbour. There are still police cars sitting outside, their quietly flashing blue lights still signifying activity in the descending gloom of the evening. The full moon shines through the ruddy steel of the Forth Rail Bridge with its three huge spans impressively brooding over the calm, lolling waters of the Forth.
Bentley stands beside me, taking in the view, his countenance reflective, his demeanour a little lost. ‘I’ve lived in this bay all my life. Mrs Perkins at the White House over there, at the end of the harbour, brought me into the world. She in her eighties now. She told us about the tunnels when we were kids. Before they built the rail bridge there was a rail tunnel that ran from here to Rosyth. It’s long gone now, and unless you know where to look, you’ll never find the entrance. It’s linked to more tunnels that were hewn when they were taking stone for the bridge. There’s some natural caverns underground as well. It’s where Dessie always goes when she is in a mood. I haven’t been down there for years. She left me alone once when I was a kid, in the darkness, in the damp, in the silence, all alone. Didn’t go back in after that.’
Rebecca is standing at the other side of Bentley, dressed in blue jeans, walking boots and a North Face jacket, watching his features, reading his emotions. She looks over at me and shakes her head gently, looking perturbed. I know what she is thinking. Bentley seems so genuine, it is hard to think that he knows anything about what his father and sister might be doing. But we have to be realistic. He could know everything about what they are doing and this could very well be a trap. I know Adam isn’t too far away from us and just hope that he can keep up with us when we go underground, because he won’t be able to track us.
‘Come on, let’s get going before we lose all of the light.’ I suggest.
Bentley sighs heavily, then turns and heads towards a large copse of trees at the edge of the Forth as Rebecca and I follow a pace behind, letting him have space, letting him reflect.
‘Just through here.’ Bentley instructs, ducking under the rotting trunk of a dead oak and falling onto his stomach at the foot of an outcrop of rock covered in foliage. I look down and see the narrowest of gaps hidden by the overgrowth.
‘Don’t worry, it’s only this narrow for a few feet, then it opens up to head height.’ he says as he shuffles into the gap, disappearing from view.
I look at Rebecca and see concern in her eyes. ‘Just be careful. Remember this guy could be a killer. We have to trust what Eve thinks about him. We have to be strong for Eve.’
‘It’s not that. I feel for him. I feel his world is about to be blown apart. I know how that feels. We are pawns again John. I’m still uncomfortable.’
‘I know, and I am too, but we are in this now. We are in it to find out who we are and why we are here. Come on, we will either find out, or die trying.’
Rebecca drops down onto her stomach and slithers into the gap. I follow suit, feeling the damp cold rock wrap itself around me, the shadows rushing to my body, consuming it in darkness as I slide though the narrow space, light visible at the far side, from the torches held by Bentley and Rebecca. I stand up once through and dust my jacket and jeans down, noting Rebecca doing the same. Bentley stands and watches us belligerently, leaving the dirt on his already filthy clothes.
‘There is a large cavern about half a mile to the east. The tunnels veer around the harbour. Your footing should be fine, but watch out for slippery stones and rats.’ he says, heading off down the narrow, enclosed, roughly hewn tunnel, his torchlight dancing on the walls up ahead, making puppets playing in the shadows, being controlled by the erratic beam.
We walk in silence, the only sound the crunch of feet over stone, intently listening for any noise, Bentley in front, Rebecca in the middle, me at the rear. Rebecca reaches a hand backward, searching for me as I offer mine, hands clasping and squeezing tightly. She is shaking slightly. I would guess she is worried, I know I am. We don’t really have any idea about what to expect. One thing’s for sure, they won’t just be sitting down, having a cuppa and partaking in idle banter. I just hope that Adam is able to keep tabs on us and that there is some backup if we need it.
Bentley turns a corner up ahead and we lose sight of him for a moment, the way ahead falling dark. A brief surge of panic overcomes us both, I can feel it in Rebecca’s squeeze, before we have a chance to lift our torches upwards in front of us. I see the bend and we walk around it. Bentley is standing dead still in front of us, his torch now off. I see why and motion for Rebecca to switch hers off as I do the same.
Up ahead there is a
door in the wall. A stainless steel door. A door with a rim of light emanating from its edges. A door from which the sound of singing surges.
A song from ‘The Sound Of Music’.
Chapter 38
‘The hills are alive, with the sound of music, with songs they have sung for a thousand years.’ Dessie sang, pirouetting around the room holding Eve’s severed hand, waving it as she twirled and swopped with the ululations of her voice.
Coleen was whimpering in her cage, facing the wall, not wanting to look at what was happening in the room.
Pastor Bentley was sitting on his small wooden seat to the side, his trousers around his knees. His penis was erect and one of his hands was circling it, tugging gently. He lewdly glared at Eve, who was looking straight up at the darkness in the vaulted void above. Her legs had been prised open and a metal beam with semi circular grips on each end had been wedged between her knees to stop them closing. Blood was dripping from her exposed vagina.
‘The hills fill my heart with the sound of music, my heart wants to sing every song it hears.’ Dessie continued as she spun all the way around the autopsy bench, arriving back at Eve’s open legs. She took Eve’s lifeless severed hand and stretched three fingers out on it, squeezing them together before thrusting them forcefully into Eve’s parted vagina lips.
‘Father likes the hands. He likes me fingering our girls with their own hands. Look at the pleasure on his face. He is enjoying it so, so much, and that makes me happy, happy, happy!’ Dessie purred, forcing the hand in and out of Eve, harder and harder, blood from the severed end flying everywhere. She pulled it out quickly, and danced over to Pastor Bentley, sticking the glistening fingers into his expectant open mouth as she arrived, pulling her dress up and straddling him at the same time.
The door burst open, Fenny Bentley barging through, his face determined and angry. The anger dissipated in a second, to be replaced by utter and complete terror as he saw his sister astride his father. He froze, looking on in shock.
Saul was behind him and bumped into his large frame as he tried to get into the room. He sidestepped the large man, for the first time able to see what was happening. Rebecca was following him closely and swore when she saw the vista in the room. She saw Eve on the autopsy bench, looking back over to where she stood. She strode purposefully towards her.
‘Nooooo. Leave her alone!’ screamed Dessie as she climbed off her father and careered towards Rebecca, ducking as she approached her and forcing the whole weight of her quite considerable frame into Rebecca’s midriff. Rebecca went sprawling over the floor, Dessie’s hands wrapping around her waist as they both fell.
Saul, surprised by the stealthy intensity of Dessie’s attack reacted. He crossed the floor quickly to where the two women were scuffling, Dessie trying to get purchase around Rebecca’s throat. Saul grabbed Dessie’s wrists and tried to pull them away, but she was strong.
Behind him, he felt a whoosh of air and then a second later a fist slammed into the side of his head, knocking him off balance. Pastor Bentley hurled his ample, half naked body into Saul, not caring that his erection was scraping on the floor as he landed on top of him.
Bentley was immobile, his gaze transfixed on the scuffles happening on the floor in front of him but his body not moving at all.
‘Help them Bentley.’ Eve shouted. ‘I know that this had nothing to do with you. Please, help them. Look at what they have done. Look at Coleen, look at me, look at my hand. I know this has nothing to do with you Fenny.’
‘Don’t listen to her Fenny, you will help your father boy.’ Pastor Bentley roared as he wrapped an arm around Saul’s neck, pulling it tightly around his throat. Saul flailed his arms backwards, trying to make contact with Pastor Bentley’s head.
Dessie had Rebecca pinned to the floor and was climbing astride her, but Rebecca managed to raise a leg and furiously kneed her in the genitals. Dessie screamed and toppled to one side, allowing Rebecca to scramble from underneath her and scrabble to the stone wall, pushing her back against it, breathing in fast noisy pants. She scanned her surroundings, looking for something to grab and use as a weapon. A glint of metal above caught her eye and she looked up to see a machete on the wall. She started to push her aching body up the wall, stretching out her hand to reach it.
Saul’s legs were pumping furiously as his neck was being crushed by Pastor Bentley. He was trying to free wheel, to push himself around and slide out of the neck hold or at least to get traction to thump his assailant. One of his feet caught the edge of the autopsy table, and gained purchase. Saul pushed hard, forcing Pastor Bentley back, forcing him to lose balance, forcing him to loosen the grip around Saul’s neck.
‘You can help them Fenny. I know you think you have been helping all of those women over the years, but you haven’t. Your father and sister have been mutilating and killing them. But you can help John and you can help Rebecca and you can help Coleen.’ Eve pleaded, her face ingrained with the pain of seeing him standing there, doing nothing.
Rebecca’s fingers scrambled for the edge of the blade as she forced herself upward, not quite able to reach, her legs weak and shaking, not able to raise her body any higher. Dessie rolled over and onto all fours, snarling at Rebecca as she sat hunched, sneering at her, ready to pounce.
‘This is my family, they are all I have ever had.’ Bentley whispered as he looked down upon his sister and father viciously fighting on the floor, his features alive with disbelief.
Pastor Bentley kicked his legs up as Saul stopped pushing, forcing the bare skin of his legs around Saul’s midriff, squeezing the thighs tightly around Saul’s chest. Saul started banging his fists off Pastor Bentley’s legs, trying to dislodge them, trying to ease the increasing tightness in his lungs. His face started to turn red, his eyes bulging as Pastor Bentley forced the air from his lungs.
Dessie pounced, throwing herself across the short distance to where Rebecca was still scrambling for the machete. She hit her directly in the stomach, causing Rebecca to bend double and topple to the floor in agony, winded.
‘You are a very naughty girl and naughty girls need to be punished!’ Dessie screamed as she started to throw hard, hammering punches into Rebecca’s stomach, pummelling her senseless.
‘This is my family.’ Bentley whispered again, looking around the room. Looking at the autopsy table, Eve lying on it, her legs akimbo, her genitals bruised and bloody, an arm stump whose hand lay discarded on the floor. Looking at the cages, at Coleen cowering in sheer terror, trying to wrap non-existent arms around her ears to block out the horror. Looking at the walls, at the sharp and dangerous implements of torture and dissection. Looking at the cattle prod sitting above the cages.
‘This is my family.’ Bentley repeated as he moved for the first time, almost in slow motion, across the room and took the cattle prod off the wall. There was a psychotic glint in his bulbous eyes, his hands shaking furiously as he walked firstly towards Dessie and Rebecca, lowering the prod to where they were fighting.
‘Fenny, what are you doing?’ Eve cried, not able to turn her head enough to see him.
‘This is my family.’ Bentley repeated again, thrusting the cattle prod down as he continued: ‘I have to protect my family.’
Chapter 39
Dessie convulsed, her body going rigid, shaking agitatedly as the electric shock overwhelmed her, knocking her to the floor. Bentley stepped over her and strode directly to where Saul was gasping for air, his lips turning blue and puffy. He thrust the prod past Saul’s head, straight into the chest of his father. Pastor Bentley’s legs shot out straight, as did his arms, his whole body wracked with the electric shock. Saul started to cough uncontrollably as he collapsed on the floor beside Pastor Bentley’s twitching torso.
‘They are my family and I have to protect them from themselves.’ Bentley reiterated quietly as he stood immobile once more and dropped the cattle prod to the floor.
‘Fenny, you need to restrain them, the shock will wear off in a few sec
onds and they will attack again. Put them in the cages.’ Eve instructed, staring at his immobile back. ‘Fenny!’ she screamed.
‘I fucking heard you!’ he shouted back as he bent over and grabbed his father’s leg and started to drag him unceremoniously toward the cages, mumbling under his breath. ‘All the fucking grief you have given me over the years for wanking, and you are up to this. You fucking hypocrite, you sick, twisted fucking hypocrite.’
Bentley hoisted his father up a few inches, then swung him into the cage Eve had occupied, slamming the door shut and locking it. He slouched back over the room, to where Dessie lay on the floor, the twitching of her body subsiding.
Bentley stretched down to grab Dessie’s leg but before he reached it, her foot shot up and smacked him ferociously in his left kneecap, making his legs buckle, making him stumble to the floor. He screamed in agony, gripping the edge of the autopsy bench as he fell. Dessie pushed her arms down hard into the ground, forcing her torso into the air, sitting up and turning onto her haunches as she did.
Bentley was directly in front of Dessie and she snarled at him, baring her teeth as she spoke, spitting. ‘You always were weak Fenny. You always were a let down. You always were a waste of space. I should have killed you when I killed mother. It would have made life so much simpler.’
Then she screamed and leapt at him, fists flying as she started to pummel his head, forcing him to the floor. ‘Cleaning for you.’ she punched, hitting him directly in the eye. ‘Washing for you.’ she punched, cracking his jaw. ‘Cooking for you.’ she punched, breaking his nose. ‘Sharing our fresh meat.’
She pulled her arm back, ready to strike again and then stopped suddenly, anger dispersing from her face, to be replaced by surprise, then agony as she thrust her head back, howling. The screech became guttural as blood shot out of her mouth, bubbling down her chin as she jerked forward, the front of her dress ripping, the tip of a blood stained metal blade appearing through the rip. She jerked again as the blade exposed itself further, her head lolling to one side, limp as she collapsed forward, falling lifeless onto her battered brother, the blade just missing his chest. The handle of a knife was sticking out of her back. Rebecca sat on her knees just behind Dessie’s dead body, hands shaking with shock and with the exertion she had put into thrusting the knife through Dessie’s heart.