Gemini: A Psychological Horror

by Stuart Keane

  Steve beckoned to a nearby table. “Would you like to join me?”

  Shay nodded, impressed at delicate manners, and grinned. “Sure.”

  VII

  On her way out of the building, Odette made utter silence her temporary best friend and tiptoed past Mr Heathcote’s front door with almost comical precision. The last thing she wanted was to arouse his prying suspicions or garner his unwanted attention for the second time in as many hours. Lifting her feet high, and holding the Tesco bag in front of her by two fingers, she navigated the spiralling hallway without so much as a sound.

  Her stomach dropped at the fact the neighbour had already spotted her coming home, a foolish error, and she cursed herself for not being more subtle. Their confrontation was a stupid risk in hindsight, and could put a huge crick in her plans for a seamless getaway, but there was nothing she could do about that now.

  Don’t fret what you can’t change, she thought.

  By the time they find Gavin, you’ll be miles away.

  I hope so.

  As she glided down the stairs without incident, she slipped out into the cool, post-midnight air and stood on the cracked pavement. The chill of the October evening made her shiver. She glanced left and right, watching the empty street with caution. Lifting her coat from the Tesco bag, she quickly slipped it on and buttoned it closed. She shifted a pair of jeans in the bag to hide the stacks of money.

  In front of Odette, parked at the kerb, was her black Audi A5.

  In two minds, she stared at it, taking it in. Knowing she would never drive it again, lest the technological marvel betray her location in the aftermath of Gavin’s murder, she simply turned and walked away, leaving the vehicle behind. She casually walked three streets over, barely noticing a soul as she traversed the darker realms of her neighbourhood. She passed streetlights and beaten telephone boxes, several homeless people and multiple parked cars. She saw shuttered shops, their metal protectors emblazoned with messy graffiti, and more than one doorway had a dark yellow pool spreading from its base, the whiff of urine rigid on the cold breeze. A fire engine drove by, its sirens silent in the night. She eventually reached a wide cross road, one that was unfamiliar to her.

  Turning left and walking for another three streets, the details much of the same minus the cruising fire engine, she emerged from a narrow road and onto a main thoroughfare, an empty road that split into two, with one branch disappearing down the side of a bridge and merging into a duel carriageway. To her left, much to her relief, was the local railway station.

  The old signal house that occupied a third of the empty platform had been refurbished into both an independent taxi rank and a Chinese takeaway restaurant. A duel neon sign crudely positioned on its roof, neither of which were lit up, read Happy Friar and Cabs4Go. The smell of fried food warmed her nostrils, and her parched mouth filled with saliva. She made a mental note to eat as soon as possible. The silent night welcomed her with open arms as she walked towards the two-storey building.

  Glancing left and right at the long strip of concrete that was used as a parking lot, she realised that only one vehicle was present; a Ford Focus that had seen better days. She immediately hoped it wouldn’t be her ride within the next few minutes.

  She paused and assessed her surroundings. The car park itself ran past the large signal house and parallel to the railway tracks, their silent danger only separated by a thin, wire fence. In the distance, the darkness of the night illuminated in brief, sporadic interludes provided by the sparking of the twin rails, and that’s when Odette heard an incoming train. She walked over to the taxi rank’s entrance, wiped her now sweaty brow, and rang the buzzer.

  As she waited, her eyes scanned the length of the platform that was visible from her position, and she realised it was empty. Not one person stood on the wide expanse of concrete, the yellow caution line clear and uninterrupted in the gloom of the evening.

  Maybe I should get a train?

  With the cameras, ticket inspectors and check points? Too much of a risk.

  She sighed, knowing her inner voice was right.

  Yeah, you know I’m right.

  Yes, okay, don’t get coc –

  The buzzer clicked loudly. “Hello?”

  “Yes, hello, I need a taxi, please.”

  “Where to, sweet cheeks?”

  Odette closed her eyes and groaned at the man’s lecherous response. Great, she thought. Of all the drivers.

  Just let him try, the voice in her head uttered, the thought laced with an unfathomable menace. It could be a fun evening, two in one day, a new personal best.

  Suddenly, Odette felt a little better.

  Remembering the map she’d scanned on Google an hour earlier, she retraced her tactical game plan in her mind. She couldn’t request a drop-off at her actual destination, it would leave a paper trail, so she had to get out a few blocks away, where several cheaper hotels resided to throw any potential follower off her scent.

  Always thinking ahead.

  I think we’ll grow to like this Odette. She’s putting our best, sadistic interests at heart.

  The Primrose Hotel across London was her personal choice of abode – moderately priced with decent facilities and the right kind of people who kept themselves to themselves – so that was her destination, but leading people there? No, she didn’t want to do that. Retracing the map in her head, she smiled.

  So … three streets away, one right turn … yes, that’s it.

  “I need to go to West Street please.”

  “What number?”

  “It doesn’t matter, just anywhere,” Odette finished.

  “Be right out.”

  She stepped away from the building and scuffed the bottom of her shoes on the kerb, her mind wandering. She folded her arms and breathed out slowly. A small plume of mist erupted into the chilly air. A low throbbing hum filled the night as the train pulled into the platform, the carriages gliding effortlessly along the tracks. After a moment, the doors of the carriages slid open, but no one departed and no one boarded. Reversing the process, the train slowly pulled away and continued on its way, heading off into the dark night.

  A second later, the taxi rank door opened behind her. A bulky man with long greasy hair and a bulging stomach, one that protruded from beneath his grimy t-shirt, waddled over. He coughed violently, hacking phlegm in his throat. “West Street?”

  Odette nodded. “Please.”

  “Hop in.”

  He pointed to a beaten black Ford Focus as expected, and Odette groaned inwardly. She stepped around the vehicle, opened the door and climbed into the back, dropping her small frame onto the battered leather. Positioning herself behind the passenger seat, she groaned as the whiff of stale body odour and French fries made her nostrils itch. She got comfortable and closed the door.

  The driver climbed in, his heavy bulk tilting the car to the right. After a few shuffles and high-pitched squeaks from his suffering seat, he sat still. He readied his keys and flicked on the meter, filling the cab with a faint red hue. The display read 3.80.

  Odette felt for a seat belt, her hands slapping the leather, but failed in her search.

  The thud of the electronic door locks made her flinch.

  Slowly, the car turned a half-circle and pulled away.

  The silence was palpable in the car. Odette ran her hands along the leather seats and stared out of the window, her mind still dazed, taking in the infinite darkness, the pitch black occasionally peppered with multi-coloured lights in the distance. Off to the left, as the car descended the ramp to the duel carriageway, a misty purple glow illuminated the sky. Her mind wanted to work, to evaluate the events of her day and make sense of it all, but the clarity just wouldn’t come.

  “So where ya off to, love?”

  Odette jumped. The man’s voice was deep and distorted behind the glass partition. Composing herself, she slapped on a nervous smile. “Sorry?”

  “Where ya off to? Anywhere nice?”

&nb
sp; Odette shuddered, and remained quiet. The decision to get a taxi was supposed to make things easy and anonymous, to cover her tracks somewhat while she escaped a bloody murder scene. She closed her eyes, wishing she’d put on a hat and gotten the train instead.

  “Oi, don’t be so rude.”

  Odette opened her eyes in surprise and stared at the taxi driver. His bloodshot eyes were watching her via the rear-view mirror, their piggy appearance buried above the slabs of pockmarked fat that were his cheeks. She made reluctant eye contact, and soon realised it was a huge mistake. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re in my taxi. The least you can do it converse, huh. Where you off to?”

  “Just to see … a friend,” she said.

  “A friend, huh? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

  The image of Shay slammed into her brain like a falling cinder block, the velocity of the sudden thought making her gasp. First, she was smiling in the diner, normal and chatty, but then the image contorted in her mind’s eye, to Shay riding Gavin’s dead corpse, his flaccid penis rubbing her blood-soaked clitoris. Her hands squelched and slid across his mutilated chest, failing to find purchase with all the blood. She howled like a released animal, her orgasmic throes shuddering every inch of her sweaty, bloody body. She slipped two fingers into Gavin’s exposed anus, chuckled, and climaxed hard, thrusting down onto his genitals. Minutes later, and spent from watching Shay have her way, Odette would lick her own slippery fingers clean, adjust her crotch-less panties – all the while remembering she bought them for his pleasure – and castrate the body herself.

  “A girlfriend,” she finally replied, crossing her legs. The thought of Shay fucking her dead ex-boyfriend and her watching as she feverishly masturbated knocked her for six, especially with the driver staring at her. A cold ripple of disgust crept up her spine.

  “So no boyfriend, huh?”

  “Yes … well, no. We broke up,” she uttered.

  “Shame. Looking at you though, it’s his loss, I suppose.”

  Odette nodded. Said nothing.

  “So why the taxi?”

  Fuck, he’s insistent. Can we kill him? Please? Pretty please?

  “No,” Odette blurted, cupping her hand to her mouth. The driver looked at her, and his eyes narrowed. “Sorry,” she continued. “Different train of thought. I just needed a change of scene, is all. I needed time to think, and you can’t do that behind the wheel.”

  “A change, huh? Taking a taxi, way to push the boat out.”

  “Whatever works, I suppose?” she said, averting her gaze to the window once more.

  “Really? Lass like you, I thought you’d be able to afford the finer things in life. A limo or a helicopter. Hell, I had you down as one of those prissy types, one who has seventeen servants and uses a nigger for a footstool. Am I right, huh?”

  Odette laughed at the absurdity of his offensive claim. “No, you’re well off base.”

  “So why the taxi? It seems you have a good reason for getting a taxi at this time of night.”

  Odette nodded. “My car’s in the garage.”

  “Yeah? What car do you have?”

  Odette shivered. Stop talking already, just leave me alone.

  “A BMW,” she lied.

  The driver snorted, rubbing his chunky forearm across his face. Odette saw a slimy sliver of snot smear along the crumpled sleeve, his arm disappearing below the partition and out of sight. She heard him wiping the arm on the passenger seat, and thanked her stars that she’d sat in the back.

  “A Beemer, huh? A black man’s willy?”

  Oh good Lord!

  I know, that lame reference hasn’t been relevant since the ’90s.

  “You prefer a bit of black meat, eh?”

  Odette stared at the driver incredulously. “I beg your pardon.”

  “You drive a BMW, so you must prefer the darker shade of skin.”

  Odette laughed, unsure if this conversation was actually happening. “How does my choice of car even dictate my choice of preferred sexual partners?”

  It doesn’t. The guy lacks logic and social understanding.

  The guy is a fucking moron. Please, let’s unzip his guts all over the fucking floor.

  “You come from money?” he asked, changing the subject.

  Odette shook her head. “No, and this conversation is over.” She continued to look out of the window, hoping he would take the hint. She felt a hot flush, and sweat started to dribble down her temple. She suddenly realised the taxi was unnaturally warm.

  “I bet you do, love. I bet Daddy gives you whatever the fuck you want, huh.”

  If he says huh one more time, one more fucking time, I think we’ll have to rip open his skull and violently insert a new fucking vocabulary.

  Odette shook her head, and found herself staring at the driver. “I just said this conversation is over, okay?”

  “No, this is my taxi, my rules. I say when the conversation is over, no one else.”

  Odette fumbled for the handles of her Tesco bag. She realised the taxi was currently gliding through an empty industrial estate. The lack of life was ominous. “If you could let me out, please. You can drop me anywhere here.”

  “I don’t think so,” the man snapped. “We haven’t reached your destination yet.”

  “I don’t mind. I’ll walk the rest of it, or get on the Tube.”

  She reached for the door handle, but realised it was useless. She dropped her hand back. The yellow lock light was on, and she clearly remembered the thud of the electronic locks. She stared at the driver, watching him for a clue. For some strange reason, he obviously enjoyed her company. Odette sighed. “What do you want?”

  The driver chuckled. “Me? I just want to have some fun, huh.”

  There he goes again. Huh, huh? Grrrrr, lemme at him!

  “I’ll double your fare if you let me out right now,” she spluttered.

  “Oh, darling, you’re so stupid. This isn’t about the money.”

  “I’ll report you to your supervisor. You can’t just kidnap a passenger, a paying customer.”

  “Go ahead. Taxi rank shut down six weeks ago. I hear the rats in that place are quite the fuckin’ listeners, though.”

  Odette gulped, the sweat now sheeting down her face. Shit.

  Yes, shit. You didn’t think to check the place out first?

  I didn’t fucking know.

  Clearly.

  Fuck you.

  Everyone checks the taxi plates, everyone!

  “What do you mean, it shut down?” Odette couldn’t think of anything else to say. She glanced out of the window, panic rising deep within. She didn’t recognise her surroundings anymore. The stench of body odour suddenly heightened, the sour smell bringing tears to her eyes.

  “Same ol’ story. No money to pay the staff, no money to pay the rent. The place has been deserted for a few weeks. They stiffed me on my final wages and I lost my house, so I thought I would live there. It’s free of charge and the rats? Well, they’re harmless if you feed them once in a while, huh?”

  The car swerved into a bend, rocking Odette to the side.

  “So … you kidnap fares?”

  “I do. I kidnap fares, have my way with them and then off them. Sometimes, I feed them to the rats back at the rank. Means they don’t take a bite out of me.”

  What is this?

  London is a hovel for serial killers, who’d have thunk it?

  “I’ll be honest, love. You’re the first person who’s come a knockin’ in seven days and three Sundays. Usually, I go out and find people to keep me entertained. I couldn’t believe me luck when you rocked up. I nearly exploded when you didn’t even check the car, for official taxi insignias and plates.”

  Told you!

  Fuck off.

  Wait, seven days and three Sundays?

  That doesn’t make any fucking sense.

  The guy’s delusional.

  The guy’s something alright.

  Another swerve. Another rocking
motion.

  “You got in voluntarily. My, my, the new generation really needs an IQ test.”

  Odette looked around, trapped and helpless. She glanced at the driver, his pale face flickering with dancing shadows from the passing street lights. Outside, she noticed nothing but empty derelict buildings and bare streets, no sign of activity in sight. The moon stood lonely, high in the night sky.

  “You need to let me go,” Odette said bluntly.

  “I don’t need to do shit, lady.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Look at him? A lifetime subscription to Dunkin Donuts, more chins than a Chinese phone book, and the sublime essence of vein-deep chip fat. He’s hardly fighting them off, is he?

  Shut up!

  “There isn’t really a why. It’s more of a … what’s the word? Oh, because I fucking can.” The man laughed, his pale jowls bobbling in the glow of the moonlight. His enormous flabby hands turned the steering wheel easily, guiding the vehicle beneath a canopy of trees. The sound of the low branches scratching at the roof made Odette tremble.

  Nice one, Shakespeare. Check him out, he thinks he’s the Bard or something. Useless fat cunt couldn’t talk his way out of a convention for the dumb.

  Shut up!

  “You’re abusing your position of power,” Odette uttered, her panic increasing. Despite knowing the outcome, she tried the door handles several times. The plastic thudded back in its slot as the door remained closed. She rubbed her temples, her vision blurring.

  “I know, love. But, then again, that’s what power is for, huh.”

  “You need to let me out,” she said, her heart pounding in her chest.

  “Fuck off, love. You know the rules.”

  “But … I can’t … I can’t breathe…”

  “That’s the least of your fucking worries,” the driver said, laughing.

  “You need to let m –”

  Odette was cut short by a sudden flash of excruciating pain, one so unimaginable it rocked her violently to the side, spilling her into the seat. She groaned, immense white brightness flashing before her tired eyes. For unknown reasons, she placed a hand on her Tesco bag for support. After a long second, her vision cleared and all returned to normal. She blinked, and resumed her seated position.