Love Lies Dying
Page 59
He stopped in front of her.
“Oh, Helen,” he whispered as he reached out and touched her cold, bloodied face.
She was tied to the X-frame in exactly the same position he had been on Monday night. Her bruised arms hung above her, stretched across the top of the X, and her cut and burned legs were tied at the bottom. John could see the damage done to her breasts by the fire poker; dark, ugly burn marks where Helen’s nipples used to be. They made the skin look as if it had melted on her body before drying into a putrefying black mass.
He could only imagine the pain she must’ve gone through.
Helen’s head looked different, out of shape; a large piece of skull near her forehead was compressed in an unnatural way. Her hair was matted and full of dried blood, and in some places missing completely, having been pulled out at the root.
Her face was turned to the side, looking away from him. Her eyes were shut and her mouth was open in what looked like a half-scream. John thought he saw tears rolling from her eyes, but he realised it was just the rain, rolling from her body.
Zoe must have dragged her from the shed.
He stepped closer, reaching out to touch her.
Oh, Helen, I’m so sorry.
But he couldn’t do it.
He lowered his head in shame.
I can’t even touch you. Not now.
His eyes looked lower.
Between Helen’s legs.
And he saw the silver ladle sticking out from Helen’s vagina.
No! No, Zoe…you didn’t!
Fuck!
No! No, how could you?
Oh fuck! No!
Lightning struck, reflecting off the silver handle.
He fell to his knees.
Nooooooooo!
The rain fell heavier, bouncing from the gazebo roof in a deafening cacophony of sound. Thunder rolled in.
You won’t do this, he thought as he reached out for the ladle. You can’t do this to her! It’s not her fault!
He grabbed hold of the cold handle with shaking hands. It was sticky – just like it was all those years ago.
I won’t have you treat her like this!
Slowly, he began pulling it from her body.
It came down slowly, streaked with blood and mucus and melted skin and darker specks of something.
John wiped the tears from his eyes.
Lightning struck as he continued to pull.
This is all my fault! But I wasn’t to know. I didn’t know then that all this would happen! How could I fucking know?
You deserved better, Helen, so much better.
I’m so sorry. I’m the reason you’re here!
And there’s nothing I can do about it now.
Thunder rolled.
And Sherrie screamed.
The thunder got louder.
Even louder.
The ladle slipped out of Helen and through his hands, falling to the floor with a clatter.
There, it’s done…
The thunder continued.
John sighed deeply, turned around and looked out to the tennis court.
Sherrie was yelling at him, frantically waving her hands in the air.
He couldn’t hear her.
“What?” he called.
The rain was too heavy on the roof.
The thunder too loud.
But then he realised it wasn’t thunder.
It was a motor he could hear.
Revving.
Getting louder.
He turned to his left just in time to see the tractor speeding towards him.
With Zoe at the wheel.
Seventy-seven
John had little time to react. He felt frozen as he watched the red tractor charge straight at him, bearing down on him with seconds to spare. The sounds of the tractor’s motor filled his ears and shook the gazebo as it sped closer. The front loading scoop was positioned high enough for its teeth to spear right through John’s chest if it made contact with him. The teeth were large and sharp; mud, grass and tree branches were stuck between some of them.
John turned to Sherrie. She was waving at him still, pleading with him to jump.
He looked back to the tractor. Zoe was smiling at him.
He turned and reached for Helen, fumbled with the straps holding her legs to the X-frame.
Gotta get her out of here.
Gotta!
His fingers wouldn’t work. They couldn’t undo the straps.
Come on, John, concentrate. You can do this!
His forehead furrowed. Sweat rolled. He concentrated hard.
The rain and thunder and motor noise were deafening. The gazebo was shaking.
Come on!
Concentrate!
He could feel the enormous size of the tractor looming behind him.
“No time, John,” he heard Sherrie’s voice in his ear. He looked up at her, but she was already pulling him backwards.
He grabbed at her. Tried to stop her.
But it was no use.
She pulled and they tumbled.
They fell down the steps together, stumbling backwards and hitting the ground hard, sliding through the clay and the water. John’s back jarred as he hit the ground, a pain sliced through his hip and his head bounced on the wet clay.
The rain poured into his face as the tractor roared past him, smashing into the gazebo with force and speed. The teeth from the front scoop bit through the sides of the gazebo like paper, tearing at the timber and sending fragments flying. The tractor rolled forward, its wheels stopping as they reached the floor of the gazebo.
The motor revved.
For a moment, all was still. Nothing moved.
The motor revved again and the scoop came crashing down on the floor, breaking through the wood and shaking the whole structure.
The gazebo held for a second or two more.
But then it folded under the weight of the tractor. It buckled and fell in on itself. The tractor rode up on the crushed floor and charged through two of the poles holding the roof in place. The roof teetered and then fell backwards, taking the other two poles that held the X-frame and Helen’s body with it, crumbling back into the old wooden seats behind the gazebo.
John watched as Helen’s body flipped backwards with the X-frame. He saw her face once more, for only a split-second, before she was gone from his sight, lost under the twisted metal roof that fell on top of her.
The tractor continued its slow course of destruction. It used the crushed roof as a ramp, driving up and over it. The metal screamed through the night as it was crushed under the weight of the tractor.
Helen!
The gazebo crushed lower, splitting and spreading. Timber and metal popped and bent, gave way to the greater force.
Noooooooo!
John wiped the rain from his eyes and backed away across the court on all fours.
“Come on.” Sherrie was pulling his arm. “We have to get away from here!”
The tractor stopped its forward movement.
John watched its wheels churn on what was left of the gazebo.
Helen! No!
He shook his head.
After everything, I couldn’t even save you this one last time.
Damn it! I couldn’t do it!
He didn’t want to know what the tractor had done to her. But he could imagine.
And from underneath a pile of rubble to the side of the gazebo, John spotted her right arm sticking out into the night.
Oh my God…
He could see her forearm and her hand, sticking out between two pieces of metal. Her palm was reaching up to the sky.
Almost reaching for me…
Thunder rolled and rain pelted down.
The tractor’s motor moaned and then coughed.
John’s eyes darted back to Zoe.
She was looking over her shoulder, staring at him.
She smiled.
And threw the tractor into reverse.
“Run, John!” Sherrie called.
“What?”
“Stay here, don’t move!”
He got to his feet as the tractor’s tyres reversed on the rubble below it.
Now or never!
He sprinted for the tractor.
“Are you crazy?” Sherrie called after him.
The tractor continued reversing over the crushed gazebo, gaining speed now.
Zoe’s eyes were concentrating on driving as she made sure her path was clear behind her.
Lightning filled the night.
The tractor drove back down the partly-demolished steps and bounced heavily onto the tennis court, sending mud and water and clay splashing backwards.
Zoe turned from looking over her shoulder.
But it was too late.
He was already there.
Thunder rolled as John jumped onto the tractor. He climbed upwards, reaching for her.
He slipped on the greasy step. Fell suddenly. But managed to hang on to the sidebar with his left hand.
Zoe looked surprised.
“Johnny, no!” she said as she reached out with one hand.
John regained his footing, used the step for leverage and stretched higher.
The tractor continued rolling slowly backwards.
He grabbed her throat with his right hand and squeezed hard. He could feel the tight cords in her neck swelling. He could feel her voice trying to escape.
He squeezed harder.
She tried to fend him off, but she couldn’t get a tight enough grip. Her face started to change colour. He could see she was in pain.
“This has gone far enough!” he spat at her through clenched teeth.
She took her other hand from the wheel and sat forward in the seat, trying to claw at his eyes.
He swung his hand backwards with every ounce of energy he had left, taking her with it.
Gravity and momentum were on his side.
He threw her from the driver’s seat.
She flew through the air and landed in a large pool of water on the court. She skidded for a few feet, her body gouging through the clay, the breath knocked from her.
He jumped from the tractor and landed nearby.
Before she had a chance to move, he was on her.
Pinning her down under him, he noticed she was wearing jeans now, and her old sneakers. She was wearing her black top too; the one with all the animals and the words Natural Selection printed underneath. Her wet and clay-covered hair was held back in a ponytail.
“You’ve gone too far, Zoe. There’s no saving you now.”
“You got here too early, Johnny,” she replied, smiling up at him as she tried to regain her breath through the rain. “The security lights signalled your arrival. Sloppy of you to forget about them, Johnny. I hadn’t finished digging your grave though. You would’ve been quite at home next to your wife.”
“Shut up!” he yelled at her.
“Yeah, that’s it, Johnny. Be a man. Be a man finally. For the first fucking time. You tell me how it’s going to be. Pin me down and yell at me! Yeah, Johnny, do it. It’s a real fucking turn on!”
Zoe tried to struggle from his grip.
John held her down harder. His hands on her arms, his body on her chest, one leg across her hips.
“Wanna fuck?” she asked him. “Right here? Right now?”
He stared into her dark evil eyes.
I thought you were so beautiful and so innocent once…
“Don’t get too excited, Johnny,” she continued as lightning flashed. “Don’t want your girlfriend to know you’re thinking of fucking me again. Anyway, is your shredded cock up to it?”
“Shut the fuck up!” he shouted.
I have to think…
She continued to writhe under him.
“Killing Helen wasn’t going to fix the past, Zoe,” he said to her. “One death can’t fix what happened to you.”
Zoe laughed in the rain. “One death? Oh, Johnny, do you think you’re only worth one? You’re the cause of many! Don’t you get it yet? So many, you have no idea!”
He looked at her, puzzled.
Thunder growled around them. The rain hit hard.
“I don’t understand,” he said in a low voice.
A smile spread across her face. “Think, Johnny. You don’t really believe I own all this, do you? The church and the Jeep and the tractor and everything? Do you? Are you that stupid? People used to live here, Johnny. People used to live at Redlingford! I know this church hasn’t been used often in the past few years, but I can guarantee the graveyard has been quite busy recently.”
John’s mouth opened. He tried to speak. Nothing would come out.
What?
Events clicked into place, his mind spun.
No!
“You’re responsible for it all, Johnny. Every death. Every hurt. Every pain.”
Noooooooo!
“All. Your. Fault.”
He shook his head. He tried to say something but nothing would come.
This isn’t real. It can’t be!
He looked up across the court. He needed Sherrie.
More than ever.
She wasn’t there.
Huh?
Panic sliced through him.
His eyes danced frantically, looking into the bushes for Sherrie. He moved his body across Zoe so he could view more of the court, his eyes searching the night for Sherrie.
“Oh yeah, baby,” Zoe spat. “Move lower. I like your body on mine. Fuck me hard.”
He ignored her.
He looked for Sherrie.
She wasn’t there.
No!
She was by the pole! She was!
But where is she now?
And then the pain split him in two.
It charged up his cock and balls, through his stomach and into his brain.
He rolled from Zoe, clutching at his groin, landing in a large puddle of rain and clay.
Shit, damn it!
He’d let his guard down, just for a second, and she’d struck.
“Nothing beats a man quicker than a good old knee to the balls,” Zoe said. “You should know that, Johnny. It’s always been part of the game.”
She smiled at him as she picked herself up from the ground.
“You’ve ruined my clothes,” she said as she wiped the clay and water from her jeans and shirt. She checked her ponytail, making sure it was still all in one piece.
He stared up at her. The rain fell hard against his face. The thunder shook the ground below him.
I just want to close my eyes, he thought. And make it all go away…
But he knew it wasn’t possible.
With his right arm, he dragged himself away from Zoe. Pain was digging into his hip.
“You won’t get far,” Zoe watched him struggling. “I won’t let you. Just remember, Johnny, you’re mine!”
He kept sliding away from her, through the water and clay and rain.
“And I’ll end this game my way!”
She reached into the back of her jeans and pulled out the revolver.
His eyes darted to it.
She pointed it at him.
“Don’t worry,” she smiled at him. “It’s newly loaded. I had plenty of time to change clothes and reload while I was waiting for you two to get back here.”
His back hit the tennis net pole and sent new pain through him. He stopped crawling, exhausted.
There’s no use.
He reached out his hands to shield his face as lightning struck.
This is it!
“You had your chances, Johnny!” she said as her finger started to squeeze the trigger.
She smiled at him.
Yes, I did…I had my chances…
Then she turned away from him, pointing the gun to her left.
He followed her aim.
She was pointing at the tractor.
It was speeding towards her now, the engine revving.
/> Sherrie was at the wheel.
NO!
John climbed up and sprinted towards Zoe.
NOOOOOOO!
She pulled the trigger.
Once.
Twice.
Before she could fire a third time, John cannoned into her, knocking her from her feet.
He heard a cry and looked up at the tractor for a split second as he and Zoe flew through the air.
Sherrie was falling from the tractor’s side, a splash of blood shining in the security lights.
Sherrie! No! Jesus, no! Not you too!
John and Zoe tumbled in the wet and the clay, rolling over and over again.
Pain charged along his shoulder and through his hip.
The gun jarred from Zoe’s grip. It clattered and sloshed nearby.
John held on to her tightly, rolling with her, determined not to let her go.
They slid to a stop near the demolished gazebo. Side by side, they lay in the water, clay and mud.
“You fucking psycho bitch!” John yelled in her face.
The rain fell around them, striking like bullets.
“How dare you!” Zoe spat back, slapping a palm across his face. There was real hatred in her eyes. “Who was the one who took a young girl and warped her? Who was it who delighted in publicly embarrassing her every chance he got? Who was it who stood by and watched as two guys raped her and shoved a fucking silver ladle up her cunt? Huh? Who turned away from me when I pleaded, when I begged, for help? Who’s the fucking psycho, Johnny? Who? You tell me!”
He shook his head.
“Who’s the fucking psycho?” she screamed. “Who ruined my fucking miserable life?”
John reached out and rubbed some of the clay from her forehead. He ran his finger across the scar in her eyebrow. He traced the outline of the scar on her cheek.
He didn’t know what to say.
He had no energy left to try…
And she didn’t give him the chance.
She smiled at him and then dug her fingernails down through the wound in his left arm. She pushed hard, her fingernails scraping through his shirt and digging in deep. The pain sliced through him and he could feel the stitches popping one by one as she dragged her fingers down through the wound. Almost immediately, blood began to soak his shirt once more.
His scream split the night and his head felt light and his stomach churned.
He lost control of his arm and she escaped from his grip.
Before he knew it, she had staggered away from him.
“You don’t win that easily,” she said. “You can’t win by charm anymore, Johnny.”