“Not really.” Paul took a breath out and could hear voices, but couldn't make out the words that were being spoken.
He and Joanne were leaning against the windowsill, and could see Vince, Karen and Pickle standing in the middle of the street. A black Audi was parked a few yards from them, and four men were standing by it.
“What do you think that Drake guy wants?” Joanne questioned Paul.
“No idea.” Dickson exhaled noisily at Joanne's irritating questions. “If he was going to hurt the camp, I'm certain he would have done it by now. I mean, why would he keep most of his men behind the gate? It doesn't make sense.”
“I thought he'd be a bit more...” Joanne never finished her sentence and was now lost in thought.
“A bit more what?” Paul asked her.
“I dunno.” Joanne hunched her shoulders and was unsure whether she should say the next sentence, but she did anyway. “I just thought he'd be more scary.”
“What?” Paul bit his lip, trying to stop a snigger. “What were you expecting? A huge scar down his face? A metal hook on the end of his arm? Two heads?”
“Alright, don't take the piss. I'm just saying ... he's not as scary as I thought he would be.”
“It's not about his look, it's about what he can do.” Paul Dickson turned and gazed at Joanne. “Manson and Hitler were hardly scary to look at, both small guys, but they certainly left their mark in history.”
Joanne groaned and put her hand in her pocket. She pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and took one, then threw the packet on the nearby dressing table. She took out a lighter and asked Paul if he was okay if she smoked.
“You can burst into flames for all I care,” Paul snickered. “Lung cancer is not really something I worry about these days.”
“I can't watch this.” Joanne sparked up and moved away from the window as she took a puff on the stick of poison, whilst Paul continued to stare out. She took another drag and decided to inspect her bruised face with her free hand, by gently prodding the tender area with her fingers.
She left the bedroom and paced up and down the landing, leaving Paul alone.
Paul could see that Karen and Pickle were having an argument. Karen then fell silent and now looked upset. What the fuck is going on?
Paul could feel his heart slamming the inside of his chest. He liked Pickle and Vince and wouldn't want to see the men harmed in any way, but Joanne and Karen were the only people that Paul cared about. Seeing them upset made him upset.
Joanne returned from the landing and asked with a quiver in her voice, “Anything happened?”
“Yeah,” Paul sighed and dropped his head. “Drake has just stabbed Pickle.”
“What?” Joanne ran to the window and could see that Harry Branston was fine and was talking to Drake.
“Sorry.” Paul held his hands up as soon as Joanne flashed him a hard stare. “Bad joke.”
“Arsehole,” snapped Joanne. “This isn't the time or the place, Paul.”
“No, it's not. I apologise.”
They both stood next to one another and Joanne took a small bottle of water out of her pocket and passed it to Paul. He took it and sarcastically asked, “Does that mean we're still friends?”
“For now,” she giggled nervously.
Paul took a swig of the water and screwed his face as he swallowed the liquid down. “Jesus,” he groaned. “Has that been filtered?”
“Yeah.”
“Properly?”
“I dunno. I didn't do it.”
“Christ.” Paul pulled a face once more and added, “I've drank straight from a stream before and it didn't taste that bad. You sure you didn't piss in it?”
Joanne huffed, “Now you're just being silly.”
“Wait a minute.” Paul pushed his head forward a few inches to get a better look at what was happening.
“What is it?”
“They're all looking this way.”
“Oh shit. Do you think some of those guys were part of the group that jumped the wall when you pulled out that shotgun?”
“Even if they were, fuck 'em.” Paul hunched his shoulders. “All I was doing was protecting the camp. They can't be bitter about that, can they? Did they think we were just going to bend over and take it up the arse?”
“I don't really like your choice of words, Paul. Or your tone.”
“Yeah, well, if they come in here, I'll be ready for them.”
Joanne moved away from the window and paced nervously around the bedroom, hoping that these talks would finish on a peaceful note.
Paul could now see Pickle waving at him and signalling him to join them in the street.
“What does he possibly want with me?” Paul mumbled.
Paul decided to ignore Pickle's beckoning and continued to glare at the seven individuals. All seven were still looking up at him, and going by the body language of Vince and especially an upset-looking Karen, it didn't look good.
Paul moaned, “What the hell is going on?”
“What?” Joanne took in a long drag of the cigarette and stubbed the rest of the cigarette out into the ashtray. She raised her head and blew the smoke in the air before returning to the window and stood next to Paul.
She asked, “What is it? What's wrong?”
“They want me down there.”
“What?”
“Pickle wants me to go down.”
“What the hell do they want with you?”
“I have no idea.” Paul could now see Pickle waving at him again, beckoning him to come down and join them. “I need to go out.”
“You can't go out.”
“I don't really have much of a say in the matter.”
“What do you think they want?”
Paul sighed, “I'm off to find out.”
Chapter Forty Four
Karen, Pickle and Vince watched as Paul, still dressed in his blue jeans and black T-shirt, left Joanne’s place and slowly made his way over to the three of them. He gave them a smile, despite being aware that this wasn't a good situation, and stopped when he was standing next to Karen. He could see she was close to tears and felt her hand touch his shoulder. He then gazed at the four men that were standing outside the Audi.
“Paul, I'm so sorry,” she said.
“What's up?” Dickson asked. He looked at both Pickle and Vince, but neither one could look him in the eye.
“Your arse belongs to me now,” growled Drake. “That's what's up.”
“Pickle?” Paul gazed at Harry Branston and the pair of them finally looked at one another.
“I'm sorry, Paul,” Pickle began, “but we've been left with no choice.”
Paul Dickson folded his arms and said, “One of you lot is gonna have to explain. And quick, because I'm getting a little bored with this already.”
“Your antics yesterday cost me a lot of men,” Drake began in his husky voice.
“I didn't kill all of them single-handedly.”
“No, you didn't. In truth, I don't know who in here killed whom, and I don't know what men of mine killed your residents, but I know all about you. You stabbed the driver of the pickup in cold blood, and then you ran down two others and shot my cousin. You're responsible for four deaths, maybe more.”
“I was protecting the camp,” Paul protested softly. “What was I supposed to do? Stand and watch?”
“You had no choice, I get that.” Drake nodded. “But I have grieving people back home, wanting justice, revenge. Like I said before, I don't know which cunt killed whom. I don't know who did Shane, Derek, Gaz, Rich and the rest, but we know who killed Simon and Brian, because you were seen, and you shot my cousin Gerry.”
Paul glared at Drake and never gave him a response. He wasn’t sure if Drake knew that he had also killed one of the captives as well.
Drake said calmly, “You're not denying it.”
“So what are you gonna do?” Paul created a wide smile and Drake noticed not a single quiver of nerves could be seen on
Paul's face, something that Drake wasn't used to. “Are you gonna put me on the naughty step? Spank my bottom?”
Karen rubbed her head and started groaning, temporarily breaking up the conversation.
“What's up with yer?” asked a concerned Pickle.
“Migraine,” Karen groaned. “Sorry, guys. Be back in a sec.”
They watched as she entered the house where they kept the medical supplies, and Drake never continued with his talk until Karen could be seen leaving the house. He found her behaviour incredibly rude and disrespectful, but he managed to swallow his anger. She headed back over and told Pickle that she had to take a couple of aspirins.
“Can we continue?” Drake said sarcastically. “Or does anybody need to take a shit before I carry on?”
Nobody answered.
“Anyway, where were we?” Drake snapped his fingers and pointed at Paul. “Oh yeah. You were about to say cheerio to your friends and get into the back of this black Audi.”
“Really?” Paul looked unimpressed but he tried not to let it bother him. “Because I was protecting the camp?”
“Some of our grieving people need some closure, and I promised to give them that closure. I always keep my word, Paul.”
“And that involves killing me, right?”
“Yes it does.”
“And if I refuse to go with you?”
“Doesn't matter if you refuse or not, it's not up to you, cunt. Your ... friends,” Drake began to chuckle, “are giving you up.”
“I see.” Paul looked hurt and swallowed hard.
“Ah, don't be like that.” Drake patted Paul's shoulder mockingly. “It was either that or we kill every cunt in the street, pretty much. I didn't give them much of a choice. So you'd die anyway.”
“So what're you going to do?” sighed Paul. “Kill me in front of these grieving people you're talking about?”
“It's what they want.” Drake lost his smile and adopted a more serious face before adding, “Don't get me wrong, I rule that place, and I rule it with an iron fist, but if I have half a dozen people who want revenge and I can't give it to them ... well, it makes me look kinda weak, don't you agree? And I'd also lose respect. Things like that can start an uprising.”
“Fine,” Paul had a look of defeat on his face, “I'll go, no hassle.”
Drake pulled a face and thinned his lips, like DeNiro used to in his mob films, and was impressed with Paul's behaviour and said, “If you're willing to go, then we'll make your journey as comfortable as possible. Just don't start anything.”
Paul said softly. “What's the point? It's either me, or all of us, and I certainly don't want anything to happen to Karen, Joanne, Pickle and Vince. There's also a nice family that live here, with two kids.”
“Right, cunt!” Drake said loudly, making Karen jump, and clapped his hands. “Ready when you are.”
“Let me say goodbye first.”
Drake groaned and reluctantly agreed. “Okay.”
Paul nodded at Drake and turned to his three friends, Pickle, Karen and Vince.
Karen said tearfully, “You wanna say goodbye to Joanne?”
“Better not.” Paul winked and added, “Don't want her to cause a scene. Better make this quick, cos she's watching.”
Karen smiled. “I bet the whole street is watching.”
Paul smiled thinly and looked at the three of them.
Vince was the first to step forward and give Paul a hug. He said in his ear. “I'm sorry, buddy.”
“This is breaking my heart,” Drake snickered. “Hurry this shit up.” He then turned to his driver and began to converse with him whilst Paul said his farewells.
Paul broke away and said, “Don't be. You had no option.”
Paul then turned to Pickle and gave him a quick hug. Both men broke away and Pickle placed both hands on Paul's shoulders and stared at him with teary eyes. “God be with you.”
“It's okay, Pickle.” Paul released a sad breath out. “It's not your fault.”
Paul turned to Karen and could see that tears had already fallen. He smiled at the pretty young woman and said, “You know what we haven't had for a while?”
“No. What?”
“A cuddle. On the bed.”
“Like the Sandy Lane days.” She laughed, wiped her eyes and gave him a hug. She placed her hands in his back pockets and whispered something in his ear. Paul nodded and understood what she meant. They broke from each other and Karen wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands.
Paul turned and could see that Drake was still talking to the driver, Mac. Paul cleared his throat to get his attention, making Drake stop in mid-sentence and turn to see that Paul was ready to go.
“Ready then? Good.” Drake pointed at Mac and said, “Show this cunt to the back of the car. I wanna get back before it gets dark.”
Mac stepped over to Paul and grabbed him by the arm, but an incensed Paul shrugged the man off. “I can walk to a fucking car without a guide, you know.”
“Come on.” Mac tried to grab Paul again, but this time Dickson pushed Mac away with both hands.
“Fuck off!” Paul snapped.
Mac, clearly embarrassed, ignored the chuckling from the two men behind him, and went over to Paul with his fists clenched.
Mac grabbed Paul by the throat; Paul held onto Mac's jacket and both men fell and began to roll around on the floor.
Drake could see that Paul's three friends were unsure whether to step in or not and said to them, “Leave it. They're adults.”
They watched on as the men continued to roll along the floor, throwing weak punches at one another. Mac was now on top of Paul and threw another punch in Paul's face. Paul jabbed Mac in the jaw, then grabbed his head with two hands and pulled Mac down to his face.
Mac produced a loud shriek, and he quickly got off of Paul whilst holding his nose that was pissing out blood.
“He bit my nose off!” Mac screamed. “He bit my fucking nose off!”
Drake grabbed Mac and pulled him back and watched as Paul stood to his feet. His mouth and chin were covered in blood and he turned and spat to the floor, revealing the tip of Mac's nose that he had bitten off. It was only half an inch, but it was enough to make a hard man like Mac scream in agony.
Drake turned to the two men who had travelled in the back of the Audi and told them to tie Paul up and put him in the back, as he couldn’t be trusted now. They did as they were told and the man called John tied up Paul and drenched his face with water before throwing him in the back.
“Apologies,” Drake turned to Pickle, Vince and Karen, “but I can't trust the cunt anymore. You understand, don't you?”
Neither one of them answered him.
Joanne came running out of her house and demanded to know what was going on.
“Get back inside,” Pickle said to her, but she ignored him. Vince held her back, told her that Paul was going away for a while and said that he would tell her what was going on once Drake had left.
Joanne reluctantly went back inside, leaving Vince, Pickle, Karen, Drake and a bleeding Mac in the middle of the street. Paul was in the back of the vehicle, sitting inbetween the two WOE men.
“Mac, come here,” Drake beckoned him over.
Holding his nose and groaning in pain, Mac shuffled the five yards over to Drake and had his head lowered, like a dog that had just been told off by its master.
Drake and Mac were now facing the other three and Drake had his arm around the bleeding gang member. “Remember the talk we had before coming here?”
Mac nodded and now had some material on his nose that he had taken out of his pocket, trying to soak up the blood.
“And what did I say?”
“Show restraint unless...”
“Unless what?”
“You say otherwise.” Mac tried to explain himself, “But Drake ... he bit my nose, man.”
“Yes, but you made the first move, didn't you? You didn't need to grab him. He was going willingly anyway.”
“But you said take him into the car.”
“No, I said, show this cunt to the back of the car. I didn't say anything about man-handling the guy. Then the pair of you cunts roll around the floor like a couple of schoolboys, embarrassing the hell out of me. By the way, that has to be the worst fight I've ever seen.”
Mac lowered his head and told Drake that he was sorry. Drake thinned his lips and nodded, giving Mac the impression that be had been forgiven.
“How's it looking?” Drake asked Mac, gesturing towards his injured nose.
Mac turned to Drake and slowly removed the material and showed him the bloody deformed nose.
“Looks like a sore one.” Drake took a step forward to get a better look.
“It is,” Mac whined.
“As soon as we get you back, we'll get the doc to look you over.”
Pickle, Vince and Karen glanced at one another and were all thinking the same thing: They have a doctor?
Mac placed the material over his bleeding nose, but it had bled that much that the material was soaked. Mac told Drake that he needed some more material to stop the bleeding, and Drake seemed to agree with him.
Drake said, “I've got something for it.”
Mac produced a thin smile. “What?”
Drake then palmed Mac at the wounded area and the injured man fell to the floor, screaming and writhing.
Drake took a step back and kicked Mac at the side of his head, then booted him once more, this time at the top of his skull. Mac groaned as he received another kick, and by 'kick number five' he had stopped moving and making sounds.
Pickle, Karen and Vince watched on in horror as Drake continued to kick a lifeless Mac, and only stopped once he was beginning to get tired. His last strike was to bring the heel of his boot on the back of Mac's head and then Drake was finished.
Mac had taken sixteen blows to the head altogether. He had been kicked to death.
Drake bent down, panting, and wiped the blood that was on the palm of his hand, on Mac's shirt. He then stood up straight and gazed at Pickle whilst trying to get his breath back. Seconds passed and Drake apologised for 'the mess'.
“We'll take him away,” he said. “I'll need three men to enter the street. Two to take him away and I'll now need another driver.”
Snatchers Box Set, Vol. 4 [Books 10-12] Page 46