Persona - A Disturbing Psychological Thriller

by Horn, Marc

  Dave pulled the covers tight against his skinny body. How could this have happened? As if a broken heart had not been enough, Ryan had then voluntarily subjected himself to a life of hate and misery. How could it satisfy him to waste his life in such a way? Dave understood that Zen would blunt the pain, but he couldn’t last forever…Or could he? Maybe Zen would torment her for the rest of his life, just to distract Ryan and quell his pain. That couldn’t work - there wouldn’t be enough victims to use against her, and he couldn’t generate terror while old and weak. Dave popped his head out of the sheets. He felt mad too, his mind concocting absurd, illogical thoughts.

  The thought of Ginger raised his spirits. Ginger heavily influenced Ryan. Jesus, Ryan - who despised druggies - let him smoke pot in his room! If Dave and Ginger worked together it would be easier to undo the damage. Dave managed to smile. It was a positive, refreshing thought that eased the burden of responsibility. Ultimately, it was up to him to save Ryan, but Ginger might help. But where would Dave find him? Ryan had never mentioned where Ginger lived, and had been arranging a get-together for Ginger and Dave for a long time. And every time Dave had visited Ryan, Ginger had just…left.

  Dave shuddered as if Satan himself had appeared before him.

  Not again…

  Oh my God, not again!

  44

  A fresh bed of snow, over a foot thick, lay on the ground.

  Andre had destroyed the footprints marking his entrance to the Black Forest woodland.

  Newspapers had been a useful source of information, detailing the police report made ten years ago. They had helped Andre piece together what actually happened…

  Zen had abducted Geoff Stringer near the closest public phone to twenty-five Pinewood. To conceal himself, Andre reasoned, Zen must have hurried to a deep, winding valley one hundred metres ahead and to the left. The valley bent back on itself two hundred metres further along, so Zen would probably have climbed out of it, and then tackled a steep incline. After that, bar keeping clear of occasional houses, there were several routes he could have taken.

  One mile inside the woods, facing away from his entrance, Andre was sitting against a fir tree. The evergreens formed their pyramid shape after ten feet of bare, robust trunk, so Andre was unable to entirely conceal himself. He took out his binos and used them to scan his surroundings.

  Somewhere around here, Zen had completed his first act of vengeance. Dragging a man and his luggage over this terrain would have required considerable strength. Zen’s rage would have helped him.

  Zen would return there now.

  Zen had known John-Paul would visit Knoll Wood, the scene of his survival, because that’s where he’d found a new respect for life. Similarly, twenty-five Pinewood was Zen’s ‘womb’. There, Ben Salks had died and Zen had been born. In these dense woods, he had established himself as an unstoppable force, destined to avenge himself.

  Andre continued checking the trees through his binos. This shrine offered a good point of attack - reasonably isolated with cover from trees. When Andre had researched Colorado, he had at first considered the snow to be a liability, but soon after, he’d realised it could benefit him – Zen would stick out like bollocks on a fish.

  Andre wore full Gore-Tex, tough enough to withstand spiky branches poking out of the snow, and which kept him dry while he waited. The woods were silent. Andre’s sunglasses were invaluable on such a bright day, eliminating the glare from the fallen snow. His track cut left towards this point, one hundred metres to the right. Even if Zen noticed it, he would not suspect they were the markings of his nemesis, since he’d be certain that no one could know he was here. Andre had the element of surprise on his side.

  Though feeling restless, Andre made no sound. Even when he found the tree, he made no noise. He kept his binos still, acknowledging the name ‘Zen’ scraped into the bark sixty metres away. Then he adjusted position.

  After waiting two hours, he heard the squeaky crunch of human footsteps behind him.

  He kept still. The figure moved closer, probably one hundred and fifty metres back and on his left side…

  The pace was slow, the steps coming in short bursts. Andre knew it was Zen, knew that right now the sick fuck traversed the route he’d taken ten years ago and many times since, praising himself for his supremacy. Here, he had been released and the environment nurtured the memories.

  Andre slipped his hand into his pocket, felt for the trigger. Soundlessly, he withdrew the pistol, held it to his chest. The steps continued…

  Ten years ago he had dragged the cunt along this ground, pulling him to a spot one hundred metres ahead. Zen increased his pace.

  He was so close. Soon he’d be parallel, but Andre would wait till he walked past before firing. Zen would instantly react to any shuffling of position, so it had to be minimal.

  He estimated Zen to be fifteen metres to his left, well within range. All that could identify Andre was his breath, but it was too quiet to be heard. Forefinger resting on the trigger, he craned his neck slightly left so he’d see Zen draw level. Many trees obstructed his line of fire, but the spaces between them offered enough clearance to lodge a bullet in the bastard when he appeared.

  The heavy crunching echoed through the woods. Andre watched Zen casually pass by twelve metres left, dressed in black - snow boots, waterproof bottoms, coat and sunglasses. Andre slowly raised his pistol, bringing his other hand up to help support the weapon. He aimed at a clearing two metres in front of Zen’s path, waited for him to enter the killing zone…

  Zen walked behind the tree immediately before the zone. Andre focused intently with his right eye, waiting, just waiting for him to step into range.

  He didn’t.

  Why had he stopped?

  Zen spun round the other side of the tree with a pistol. Instinctively Andre fired two shots and Zen dropped to the ground. Andre took cover behind the tree, rolled onto his side.

  Had he hit him?

  Was he dead?

  Zen’s sudden backtracking had surprised Andre and he had shot in defence, without taking aim. But there was still a good chance he’d taken him out.

  ‘You missed, cunt,’ Zen said coolly.

  Andre gritted his teeth. Fuck. Wasted opportunity. But at least now it would be fair, he thought – best man wins.

  ‘The next one won’t,’ he replied. Their voices echoed in the trees.

  Zen laughed. ‘It’s a vicious circle with you bounty-hunters – you can’t teach the danger of over-confidence to your kind, because you only learn of it the second before you die. The cycle continues and no one adapts.’

  Andre threw his bag behind him and shuffled right, aiming his pistol at the centre of the tree concealing Zen.

  ‘You stand out like an amateur,’ he shouted.

  ‘I didn’t expect an offensive here, but I welcome it. How did you find me?’

  Inch by inch Andre crept forward, his Beretta kept clear of the snow. ‘The same way I found the rest - you’re just as predictable.’

  ‘And your tactic to provoke me into leaping from this tree in anger isn’t predictable? Come on, open up. What’s your name?’

  ‘Will. I’m your father.’

  Silence.

  ‘Come on Ben, show daddy your face.’

  ‘I’m impressed,’ Zen said. ‘You might offer a challenge… I can hear your movements. I know exactly where you are – you’re in my terrain.’

  ‘No, you’re in my terrain - I served in the army. Your father taught you what you know. You don’t have first-hand experience.’

  Using trees to shield him from Andre’s vision, Zen dashed to a tree further back, then moved to another and then another.

  ‘You can’t run from me, you little cunt,’ Andre hissed.

  ‘I never run. I gain the advantage.’ Zen curled his arm around the tree and aimed his pistol ahead. A flash of white appeared and a bullet ricocheted off bark inches from Zen, forcing him behind cover.

  ‘White camoufl
age,’ he acknowledged. ‘I like that. It gives you the edge. You fucking need it.’ He retreated again.

  Andre got up, crouched down by a tree, and pressed the side of his body against it. He wouldn’t catch Zen by seal crawling.

  ‘Did you like your mother?’

  ‘No,’ Zen replied. ‘She was a bitch.’

  ‘Did you like Geoff’s cock in Jenny’s mouth?’

  Silence.

  Andre continued – ‘He exploded in her mouth and she swallowed all his cream.’

  Silence.

  ‘And you licked it off her tongue, you fucking idiot! She snowballed you!’ Andre laughed. ‘I should call you “Snowball”!’

  Zen sprang from cover, firing shots at Andre. The first two hit bark, but Zen ran in a wide arc, double-tapping every couple of bounds, forcing Andre to move around the tree to protect himself. Lumps of snow dropped from the branches above him, so Andre bent over his pistol to shield it. After six shots Zen stopped and took cover.

  ‘You missed, cunt,’ Andre said.

  ‘I’m warming up.’

  ‘Don’t like to hear of your inadequacy, do you?’ Andre mocked. ‘You fuck Jenny and you’re so crap that the next morning she has to beg your mate to show her what it should feel like.’

  Zen shook with rage. ‘You have a family?’ he asked.

  ‘No. If I’ve offended you you’ll have to find the courage to punish me directly.’

  ‘You must want to die,’ Zen said. ‘I hope Jenny paid you well to come here – it will cost your life.’

  ‘What about opening up to each other?’

  ‘I’ll open your skull.’

  Andre laughed. ‘See what happens when Zen doesn’t get his own way? He throws his teddy at you. Ahh, bless…’

  Zen slid down the tree and forced himself to relax. The cunt was affecting his temperament, which could compromise him.

  ‘Ben, Zen, Ryan, or whatever your name is, when are you gonna fight like a man and stop being a pussy?’

  Zen sucked in deep breaths and exhaled steadily. Gradually he was regaining his composure. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘I told you – Will. I fucked your mother.’

  ‘Yeah? I bet she was wild.’

  ‘Nah, as shit as you were with Jenny. Did you know they fucked while you were out that day?’

  ‘I know. Can’t fuck anymore, can he?’ Zen smiled.

  ‘She meant everything to you. It must have really hurt when you realised she was fucking Geoff behind your back.’

  ‘Are you gonna move?’ Zen asked. ‘Or are you just going to hide?’

  ‘I think I’ll wait here and wind you up. I know it’s firing up that nasty temper of yours.’

  ‘It’s counter-productive. Now I’ll mutilate you and Jenny will suffer worse.’

  ‘Prove it.’

  Zen stepped from cover and walked towards Andre’s position. ‘I’m coming to kill you,’ he whispered, aiming his pistol at the tree. ‘If you don’t act you’ll die.’

  Andre rolled from cover and fired a shot, but Zen dived behind a tree in time. Andre shifted right and fired another shot, the round tearing through Zen’s sleeve. Zen cursed and retaliated instantly, breaking from cover, taking aim, and firing two shots. The first bullet missed as Andre dived for cover, but the second hit him in the chest, spinning him onto the ground. Zen smiled, taking aim again. His enemy was concealed behind a tree, writhing. Time to close in… Zen heard clothing being removed and imagined the cunt struggling to stem the flow of blood from his arteries… Then something was thrown towards him…Body armour! He leapt for cover.

  ‘Still alive, cunt.’ A bullet shook the tree concealing Zen.

  ‘If you fought like a man, you’d be dead by now,’ Zen said.

  ‘That’s the difference between you and me – I’m a professional, not a pretender.’

  ‘Armour can’t save you now – the next bullet bursts open your heart.’

  ‘Take a shot then.’

  Zen released his magazine and applied a new one. Andre did the same.

  ‘Better conserve your ammo, cunt,’ Zen hissed. ‘That Berretta holds ten, this Walther P99 sixteen.’

  ‘Police! Drop the weapons!’ Zen and Andre looked up, incredulous. There were no cops in sight, but Andre could hear their footsteps closing in. The voice had come over a loudspeaker. Air support would have been requested, so he had to leave the area fast. He heard Zen run off and did the same himself, heading in the opposite direction.

  45

  Andre paid the charge to change his flight times, so he could take the first available flight home. He was concerned that police enquiries may identify him, and didn’t want the attention.

  He boarded direct flight 1964, which would depart at 2300 hours and arrive at Gatwick at 1700 hours on Sunday 25 November. They had processed him just in time – an airline representative had called out his name twice on the Tannoy before he reached the gate.

  Ten minutes later, the plane moved off. Andre was sitting beside a window and the two seats beside him were vacant. The plane increased speed and took off. Andre watched the land shrink beneath him and shook his head. Zen had eluded him. Unfortunately, he had no positive news for Jen, but he would have soon. The hunt went on.

  He had felt alive in the woods. The preparation, anticipation and then the duel itself had stimulated in him a thrill he’d not experienced since the Gulf War. Zen was a formidable opponent and Andre respected that. They would confront each other again and one of them would die.

  Seconds after the seatbelt sign blinked off, someone sat down beside him. He looked at Zen’s smiling face…

  He won’t have a weapon and if he does he won’t use it: they were Andre’s first thoughts.

  ‘Andre McGrath.’

  There was nothing either of them could do. Both were incapacitated until they left the plane. Any action would encompass arrest when they landed.

  ‘You realise the potential consequence of this?’ Andre asked him.

  Zen smiled. ‘You could turn me in, but you won’t.’

  ‘You sound certain.’

  Zen placed his hands behind his head. ‘You won’t cower away from your instincts.’

  ‘Instincts are careless. I’ll do what’s appropriate.’

  ‘What’s appropriate?’

  Andre felt constricted. Zen was convinced that his desire to kill him deprived him of rationality and that was frustrating. He knew the sensible option would be to contact the police in England from this plane – they would wait for the bastard to land and then throw him inside for life.

  But he knew how to tap into Zen’s psyche and exploit his weaknesses – he’d done it in the woods and lured him into the target area. He would do that again and blow him into hell. Zen could taunt Andre till the end of the flight, but soon after he would truly understand why Andre had made the decision.

  ‘Your death is what’s appropriate,’ Andre replied. ‘I told Jenny I’d provide her with a photo of your dead body.’

  Zen nodded. ‘Nice. You’ve failed once.’

  ‘I didn’t fail. I learnt how vulnerable you are.’

  ‘Really? I recall hitting you.’

  ‘I took the blow. You couldn’t take the truth.’

  Zen chuckled. ‘I like your strategy – it’s kept you alive.’

  ‘Was the trip nostalgic?’

  ‘Always is. Happy memories.’

  Andre sighed. ‘Always running away. You deal with problems by hiding in someone else. I’m surprised ‘Zen’ has lasted so long.’

  ‘I’m the perfect creation. Nothing penetrates me.’

  ‘That’s convenient, because normally the slightest upset crushes you.’ Andre glanced at Zen’s seat. ‘I can’t see ‘Reserved for Snowball’ so why are you sitting here?’

  ‘Your tactics are painfully obvious.’

  ‘But they work, because you’re easy to penetrate. You live in a fantasy world. You’re nothing.’

  Zen stared at him. �
��I’m disappointed. I thought you’d accord me respect. I thought you were different.’

  ‘I think you’re pathetic. You’re fucked in the head, but it doesn’t matter, because you won’t be here much longer.’

  ‘You’re an old man,’ Zen said. ‘Sure you’re up to another contest?’

  ‘Most definitely.’

  ‘The chase can’t go on much longer, can it? You’re desperate to feel that buzz before time runs out.’

  Andre ignored him.

  ‘You should be digging the garden, or sticking your impotent dick into some old bitch, not subjecting yourself to a rigorous fitness schedule so you can kill. Both of us live in the past – I’m avenging it, you’re clinging to it. Fifteen years ago you might have defeated me. Now you’re out of your league.’

  ‘We’ll see. How did you kill the other hitman?’

  Zen laughed. ‘The plan was relayed to one of his colleagues by mobile phone. I heard it all, even managed to synchronise my watch with his.’

  ‘How will you know when Jenny is psychologically dead?’

  ‘Because she’ll be sitting in a psychiatric ward, playing with her hair and pissing on the floor.’

  Andre tutted. ‘You have nothing, Zen, do you? There can be no redemption.’

  ‘I demand her redemption.’

  ‘For fucking someone else? Any normal bloke moves on and forgets about it.’

  ‘Because he doesn’t have the balls to pursue justice.’

  ‘Justice? Death for infidelity? Wake up! You’ve thrown away ten years of your life. The only injustice is self-inflicted. What have you actually achieved?’

  ‘A considerable amount.’

  ‘John-Paul’s in a wheelchair. Nathan’s dead. Big fucking deal. She’s alive and she mourns like a normal person. And like a normal person she’ll get over it. You’ve made no difference, you fucking idiot.’