by Horn, Marc
‘Your medical diagnosis is broken ribs, nose, wrists, ankles and jaw. Teeth are missing. You must stay conscious because I’ve got something lined up. You’ve had a shot of morphine for the pain, which will take effect in a few minutes.’
John-Paul’s eyes were swimming in his head and the pain was intense. Zen cut the noose free from his legs, threw him over his shoulder, grabbed the bat and axe and then carried him to the Rover.
‘Slim Jim,’ Zen croaked, as he walked beside the vehicle, thinking John-Paul might be curious why the glass wasn’t broken. ‘Couldn’t have the cops sniffing around. Where are the keys?’
John-Paul twitched an arm at his right side. Zen reached into that pocket, took the keys, opened the boot, dropped John-Paul inside, then slammed it close, opened the driver’s door and jumped into the seat. He smiled to himself as the engine sparked into life and then he drove out of Knoll Wood.
Tossed around by Zen’s erratic driving, it wasn’t long before John-Paul felt the painkiller kick in. The pain numbed considerably, but he hadn’t the strength to attempt to escape. He felt drowsy, and being thrown around like a rag doll increased his dizziness. At the same time he felt light-headed and nauseous.
He found it hard to make sense of his many thoughts and vomited violently. ‘What a fucking idiot,’ he repeatedly whispered, sobbing.
What more would Zen do to him? He’d broken his bones – was that not enough? He rested his forehead on his limp wrist and wiped tears on the back of his hand.
Was this the end? He thought of Jen, his family and friends, his job, the lake where he fished, the heath where he ran. He wanted to breathe that air again, wanted to kiss Jen and hold her tight, drink with his friends. He prayed he would see everyone special to him again.
Zen had said he might live to tell the tale. He felt a glimmer of hope when he remembered that and knew that to survive he must be strong and positive. A dejected, pessimistic man wouldn’t last long if hanging onto life. He had to accept that his survival instincts would be honed and that he’d have to fight for his life. He’d done it before and he’d do it again. It was either that or wave goodbye to life, to his loved ones. ‘I won’t do that!’ he whispered.
Zen broke sharply. The boot opened and John-Paul squinted at the afternoon light.
‘Enjoy the ride?’ Zen asked.
Zen pulled him onto the ground, observing John-Paul’s pinpoint pupils that confirmed the morphine had circulated properly. Landing on a slope, John-Paul felt totally disorientated. Lifting his head, his blurry vision registered the lake about forty metres away at the bottom of the hill. Terror swept through him. He was going to be drowned!
‘Yeah, you’re right, I didn’t come for the scenery,’ Zen said flatly, dialling a number on John-Paul’s mobile phone. Seconds later his call was answered.
‘Hi, Jenny, it’s Zen.’
‘Oh my God!’ she screamed… ‘Why have you got John-Paul’s phone?’
‘Excellent.’ Zen laughed. ‘I hoped you’d have caller I.D. Yep, John-Paul’s with me. We’re at Danson Lake, north-east corner. Take this grid reference down…’ He waited five seconds. ‘Five, three, four, seven… two, eight, seven, six. I repeat five, three, four, seven… two, eight, seven, six. That’s on a one in fifteen-thousand Ordnance Survey map, and it’s the exact point where John-Paul will be drowning in his vehicle. If you’re fast, you’ll save him. You’re twelve minutes away. I’m rolling the Rover in exactly nine. Goodbye.’ He pressed ‘off’ on the phone and threw it into the lake.
John-Paul choked back tears, plagued with guilt at the pain he’d caused Jen. She’d be hysterical. She’d lose her mind. ‘Jen, I’m sorry,’ he whispered and heard Zen laugh. He looked up at him and his hatred flared. ‘You fucking cunt,’ he slurred, rolling over onto his knees.
‘John-Paul,’ Zen exclaimed. ‘Some spine. I’m impressed.’
‘I fucking hate you…you fucking slag,’ John-Paul droned, feeling exhausted and restless at the same time. ‘I’m going to fuck you…you slag.’
‘You’re in no position to threaten me, with or without broken bones.’ Zen kicked him in the face and he smashed onto the ground.
‘Stay awake, cunt, or you’ll die,’ Zen warned him.
John-Paul opened his eyes and groaned. He felt as if he was about to fall, as if the grass that supported him would give way.
‘Your survival depends as much on you as her. You have to stay alive until she rescues you.’
For a second John-Paul thought Zen was helping him, but quickly came to his senses, realising Zen wanted Jen to play God with him – John-Paul had to be alive for her to dictate his fate. Sick bastard! All John-Paul could do to quell her pain was stay alive. Even then, it’d damage her, and he didn’t know how much more she could take before she broke down permanently. But if he died it would all be over. She loved him and if she felt responsible for his death it would destroy her.
‘Anything you’d like to say? Because there’s a chance you could die here,’ Zen said, smiling.
‘Why?’ was all John-Paul could mumble.
‘What did the bitch tell you?’
‘She…slept with…someone else.’
‘And?’
‘That’s all.’
Zen laughed. ‘She doesn’t want to undermine your trust.’
‘What?’
‘Shut the fuck up, cunt!’ Zen screamed and then dragged John-Paul to the passenger seat. Throwing John-Paul’s body against the seat, he then grabbed some rope from the back seat. Zen must have put it there, John-Paul thought, as it wasn’t his. Zen tied John-Paul to the seat then grabbed his face and turned it toward him. ‘This could be it, boy! Remember to take a deep breath.’ Zen slammed the door closed, walked to the bonnet and sat on top of it. He kept his eyes on his watch.
John-Paul was immobilised. Only his head and legs above the knee were free. There was no hope of escape. He watched Zen’s wavering frame checking the time, and choked back the tears again. He had to be strong, but he was so scared. Last time, Zen had knocked him out, and when John-Paul had regained consciousness he was swinging by his neck, so there’d been no preliminary torture to endure, no heart-stopping anticipation like this – suddenly he had been there, struggling for his life, and he’d reacted with courage and resolve.
Now all he could do was watch Zen and pray that someone would intervene. He tried to move his whole body free, but only his knees lifted up a little and the movement intensified his disorientation. He stared at the dashboard, steering wheel and the gear stick, which were all out of focus due to the drug. He’d only just bought this car and now he was going to die in it. Stop it, he urged himself. You have to live. You have to live or Jen will die. That was something he wouldn’t allow. Whatever happened she must live.
Zen turned, winked at him and tapped his watch. Then he pushed himself off the bonnet, walked to the driver’s door, opened it and leant inside.
‘Might see you again,’ he whispered and then released the handbrake. The car rolled forward slowly and John-Paul heard the door slam close. It gained momentum and within seconds launched itself into the lake.
Zen watched it sink, rise and sink again, and then left.
Concealed in the copse, he waited for the dramatic scenes to unfold.
Hearing vehicles approaching, he wondered who else she’d brought along.
‘Bitch!’ he hissed when he saw the police vehicles roll over the hill. ‘Cheating fucking bitch.’ There were two patrol cars and a dog van. She’d pay for that. Badly.
Jenny and her father followed behind in their own vehicle. Zen didn’t know if he could watch now. It was fucked up, a failure. Digging his fingers into his face, he pulled the skin down hard, leaving bright red marks behind. She’d absolved herself of the responsibility – John-Paul’s life was in someone else’s hands. There would be no progress.
They parked thirty feet east of the location, but that didn’t matter - there was a diver with them who searched the water,
and a short while later dragged John-Paul’s body on to the bank. She ran up to him, but they kept her back. Zen closed his eyes as the diver pumped air into the cunt’s lungs. It should have been her doing it. This was so wrong. It was painful, a travesty, and it hurt him to watch.
The bitch’s father pointed to the trees where he was hiding, and moments later the dogs were released from the van and sniffed for his scent. Suddenly, the handlers detached the leashes and the dogs bounded towards him.
‘Shit!’ Zen jumped out of the tree and sprinted away. Hearing the little cunts barking, he cursed himself for the disadvantageous position he was in. He had to get out of these grounds and that meant running for a mile. He stopped and scanned the undergrowth around him. He needed a sharp stick. He couldn’t outrun the dogs – he’d have to kill them. The cunts were barking furiously – he had seconds to prepare himself.
‘Fucking hell!’ he yelled. ‘The bitch will regret this.’
The first dog leapt at him. Zen spun around and drove the stick into the canine’s throat. It slumped to the ground. He whipped the stick free and turned to the other dog, but it was almost on top of him and he couldn’t aim a strike in time, so he swung at it instead, hitting the dog on the side of its head. It went down, but jumped back up and bared its teeth at him. It hunched its body back ready to attack.
‘Come on then, cunt.’ He held the stick back.
The dog sprang from the ground and Zen growled as he drove the stick into its throat. It yelped and collapsed at his feet.
Zen threw the stick away and ran off. He could hear the handlers close by.
31
Stacey, Fay and Dave were sitting on the settee in Stacey’s living room, waiting for Ryan to turn up for the double date he’d arranged.
Dave felt uneasy. He’d always wanted to be in a situation where he could enjoy the company of both his best friend and his girlfriend, but not in these circumstances. Fay and Stacey were exchanging pleasantries as if all was well, which suggested to him that Fay hadn’t told Stacey what she’d learnt about Ryan. Did that mean Fay was saving her revelation until Ryan arrived? Beads of sweat formed on Dave’s forehead. Ryan would retaliate if she shouted at him, and if it turned physical he would have to intervene. This was a frightening prospect, given that Ryan would just have learnt that Dave had betrayed him.
Ryan had spoken in confidence to him and, trusting Dave as he did, would have expected the words to go no further. Dave had broken that trust. Where would that leave their friendship? How could life go on if, after twenty-one years, their special bond was broken? If that happened he would forever despise himself for putting someone else before Ryan.
His desperation to hold onto Fay had overtaken his loyalty, and right now he regretted it.
Dave fidgeted. Fay must be waiting to bollock Ryan, but why? Yes, she had a fiery temperament, but had she not considered him? Was she prepared to jeopardise his friendship with Ryan? Surely his feelings mattered to her, so what was she planning? Who would it benefit if she attacked Ryan? Stacey would have to suffer the heartache of self-delusion in front of them all.
Almost three weeks had passed since he’d told Fay of Ryan’s plans, and he’d assumed that since then she would have spoken to Stacey about them. He hadn’t asked her if she had, since it was a touchy subject. When Ryan invited Fay and him to join them at Stacey’s, it had surprised him, and he reasoned that Stacey had not confronted Ryan about the revelation. The alternative was that Stacey had confronted him and forgiven him, which he found unlikely.
Fay had seemed excited by the invitation. Conscious of appearing too weak, Dave had hidden his apprehensiveness from her. Now it appeared that her enthusiasm had been nurtured by a desire to attack Ryan. That scared him.
And then, Ryan entered.
‘Hello, everyone,’ he said. They all welcomed him. ‘I’ve got the scoff, so give me a minute to serve it up.’
As Ryan walked to the kitchen, Dave glanced at Fay. She was watching Ryan, but with a neutral rather than resentful expression. Part of him wanted to tell Ryan what he’d done, but a stronger part urged him to stand back and let things unfold.
Minutes later, Ryan returned with Chinese arranged on two plates. The others had moved to the dining room table. Ryan laid down the meals in front of Fay and Stacey, then fetched his own and Dave’s, and four bottles of wine.
‘Ryan – a gentleman. I’d never have imagined it,’ Fay said, staring at him. ‘Not after speaking to you at the pub that time.’
Ryan smiled. ‘Never judge by first impressions.’
‘I think drink makes us a little anti,’ Stacey added.
‘Let’s get anti then!’ Ryan opened a bottle of wine and filled the glasses. Fay grabbed hers and gulped down half of it.
‘How are you, Dave?’ Ryan asked.
‘Fine, thanks.’
Ryan laughed. ‘Listen to us – acting formal for the women.’
‘Don’t pretend,’ Fay said, finishing her wine and refilling her glass. ‘We want you to be yourselves, don’t we, Stacey?’
Stacey nodded.
‘Maybe you wouldn’t like who I really am, Fay,’ Ryan said.
‘I think I would. I’ve heard from the best source.’
Ryan glanced at Dave. ‘Yeah, I bet you have.’
Detecting hostility in Ryan’s tone, Dave felt a shiver. Because Fay knew the truth, she was patronising Ryan. That terrified him. He’d told her Ryan was mad. How could she be so foolish?
Stacey rested her hand on Ryan’s. ‘How was your day?’
‘Okay.’
‘You been pumping those muscles?’ Fay asked him.
‘I train,’ Ryan replied.
‘I can see that. D’you put them to good use?’
‘Depends what that is.’
Fay smiled. ‘Rough and satisfying sex.’
Ryan smirked as Dave turned red. She was a bitch, but Dave deserved it for opening his big mouth.
‘Fay!’ Stacey protested. ‘That’s my boyfriend!’
‘That’s why I want to get to know him.’
‘You’re talking to him as if he’s some porn star.’
‘That’s hardly an insult,’ Ryan said.
Fay emptied her wine. ‘I didn’t think so either, but Stacey’s pretty sensitive.’
Ryan nodded. ‘We all have weaknesses.’
Stacey looked down. He’d gone back into his hiding place and was retaliating against the compassion she’d shown him.
‘What’s the matter?’ Ryan asked, noticing her dismay.
‘The usual things.’ She dug her fork into her food.
‘Care to share?’
‘I have nothing to hide, but maybe you do, so I’ll say nothing.’ Stacey chewed her food.
‘Whoah!’ Ryan dropped his cutlery on the table. ‘Stacey, we’re all friends here, our secrets should be exposed.’
‘If you grew up, there wouldn’t be any.’
Ryan finished his wine, refilled Fay’s glass, then opened a new bottle and spoke as he topped up the remaining glasses. ‘Well, you’re never mistaken are you, Stacey? So you must be right.’ He turned to Fay who had already emptied her glass. ‘Has she ever been wrong?’ he asked.
‘Are you trying to turn my friend against me?’ Stacey asked him. ‘That’s childish and spiteful.’
Ryan sneered at her. ‘Worried what you might learn about yourself?’
‘No. I know myself.’
He turned back to Fay. ‘Well?’
‘Of course Stacey’s been wrong about people before. We all have.’
Ryan beamed at Stacey. She said nothing, just placed her cutlery down and moved to the settee in the adjoining lounge.
‘Nothing to say about this, Dave?’ Ryan asked him. ‘I find that inconsistent.’
‘I don’t want to get involved.’
‘Fuck me, first time for everything.’
‘I think I’ve finished too,’ Dave said, and then left the table and sat down opposite Stacey
in an armchair that had loose, chipped armrests.
‘Must be us.’ Ryan grinned at Fay. ‘So, what if I am a porn star?’
‘Then lucky, lucky, Stacey!’
‘Fay!’ Stacey shouted. ‘Why are you flirting with him?’
‘I’m not flirting,’ Fay snapped. ‘I’m having a laugh. Maybe you are too sensitive.’
‘Well you could use some of it,’ Stacey said. ‘What about Dave? That’s his best friend!’
Fay exaggerated a sigh. ‘I’m getting to know your boyfriend, that’s all.’ She tipped more wine into her mouth and giggled when she noticed Ryan wink at her.
Dave felt confused. He knew they weren’t flirting - Fay would never do that to him. But he did think she was lulling Ryan into a false sense of security before she screamed at him. But why was she content to do that when it was upsetting Stacey? Soon, Stacey would learn the truth. Would that not cause her enough pain in Fay’s eyes? It didn’t make sense.
‘Shall we go and sit with the miserable gang?’ Ryan asked Fay, who nodded.
They left their unfinished meals beside the others and joined Stacey and Dave. Ryan passed them their glasses and sat down next to Stacey. Fay sat beside him.
Ryan stared at Stacey and then Dave. ‘Are we going to get over this, team?’
Stacey’s tone was sombre. ‘You’re the only one that needs to get over this.’
Ryan glared at her. ‘Stacey, I don’t want to hear any of your bollocks when I’m on the piss. In fact, I don’t want to hear it ever again, because it bores me.’
Stacey could fight no more. Not wanting him to hear her cry, she swallowed a mouthful of wine, hoping it would numb her pain. His false persona was back and as strong as it had ever been, and she couldn’t chip away at it now – they needed privacy for her to do that. Remembering the marks on her neck, she struggled to hold back the tears.