Dead Flesh kh2-1

by Tim O'Rourke

  I threw some items into a basket, junk food mainly, and went to the cash register with it. The spotty youth who was working began to process my groceries. Once he had placed everything into a bag, Potter asked for a pack of cigarettes.

  The guy working the cash register threw them into the bag and said, “That will be thirteen pounds twenty, mister.”

  Potter rummaged through his jeans pockets and pulled out a roll of twenties. At the same time I took my warrant card from my jacket pocket, opened it, and realised that I hadn’t any money. I looked at the cash in Potter’s fist. My savings? I wondered and looked at him. Potter shrugged his shoulders at me with a guilty grin.

  I looked at the spotty youth behind the counter and I could see that he was eyeing my badge “Sorry, but my boss says I can’t give discounts to the law anymore — not since one of you guys issued him that ticket for running a red.”

  “What?” I asked surprised. “I don’t expect any discount.”

  “You can’t be from around here, then,” he said back.

  “No, we’re not,” Potter cut in.

  What kinda police department are they running down here? I wondered. Potter handed over the money and looking at the CCTV camera above his head, he looked back at the clerk and asked, “is there any chance we could take a look at the CCTV footage for yesterday?”

  “No, you can’t,” he said.

  “How come?” I asked him.

  “Doesn’t work. It’s been broken for months,” The clerk explained. “The boss says it costs too much to get fixed. He’ll be screwed if we ever have a robbery, insurance company will never pay out.”

  “Do you have any other cameras in store?” I asked.

  “Nope, just that broken one. Why you want to know?” he asked, looking at me, then at Potter.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, picking up the groceries and leaving the store.

  I threw the bag onto the backseat of the car and slammed the door shut in frustration. Potter popped one of the cigarettes between his lips, lit it, and inhaled deeply.

  “When are we going to get a half-decent break?” I asked him.

  Potter looked at me and blew a lungful of smoke into the air.

  “We’re running around in circles,” I said, more to myself than him.

  “Something will turn up,” he said, leaning against the side of the car and enjoying his smoke.

  “And what if it doesn’t?” I snapped, sounding more frustrated than cross. “Kayla is inside that school, werewolves are free to take children at will, we’ve got a young woman who has suddenly vanished or worse, and the local cop couldn’t give a crap because he’s too busy screwing the local Seven-Eleven for a discount!”

  Potter didn’t say anything back, he just puffed on the cigarette and squirted jets of smoke out through his nostrils. When he had finished, he flicked the cigarette into the gutter and got into the car. I climbed in next to him, feeling more frustrated than ever. Potter started the engine and it spluttered and wheezed to life.

  “We need some petrol. We’re nearly empty,” he said.

  On the other side of the road, there was a small petrol station with two pumps on the tiny forecourt. “Over there,” I said, jabbing my finger in the direction of the petrol station.

  Potter swung the car out of the car park and crossed the road to the petrol station which stood opposite the Seven-Eleven. He drew level with a pump, got out, and began to fill the tank. I watched him through the car window, and it was then that I saw it. There was a CCTV camera attached to the underside of the petrol station canopy facing out across the forecourt.

  While Potter finished filling the tank, I climbed from the car and walked over to where the camera was fixed. I looked up at it and studied the position it was facing. I turned my back to face it and looked out at the view that the camera had. I could see the whole of the forecourt and beyond, where to my delight, across the street was the entrance to the Seven-Eleven.

  “I wonder?” I whispered. “I wonder?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Kiera

  We went into the kiosk and Potter paid for the petrol in full from my savings. I didn’t show my badge before the petrol had been paid for, as I wasn’t sure if this was something else Banner and his merry men expected discount on. The girl behind the counter was chewing obnoxiously on a piece of gum. I showed her my badge. She raised her eyebrows as if to say ‘What now?’ and then said, “What can I do you for?”

  “I’m investigating a missing person enquiry and I was wondering if I could view your CCTV footage for yesterday.”

  “How’s that?” she mumbled, removing the gum from her front teeth with her tongue.

  “How’s what?” Potter glared at her.

  “Why do you want to watch the CCTV?” she asked him.

  “Because we’ve had information that she may have been in the area yesterday, so we need to check it out,” he said bluntly.

  “What, she came in here did she?” the girl asked.

  Potter sighed and managed a false smile as if he was fast losing his patience. “I don’t know. That’s why we need to view the CCTV.”

  She eyed us momentarily and blew a large pink bubble from between her lips. It popped and she sucked it back into her mouth.

  “Sure, it’s all in the back,” and she nodded towards a door that had PRIVATE — STAFF ONLY written across it.

  “Thank you,” I smiled and headed towards the door.

  The backroom was poky and smelt strongly of stale tobacco smoke. There was a table and a rubbish bin that was overflowing with empty cans of Coke and cheeseburger wrappers. The table was littered with crumpled magazines and newspapers. Fixed to the wall was a TV monitor which showed the gas station forecourt. I watched it and could see a car pulling in. In the distance, I could see across the street and customers entering the Seven-Eleven. It wasn’t the clearest picture in the world but it would do. I guessed that if Emily Clarke was in that store yesterday, I would be able to make her out on the footage. After all, she looked just like her sister, Elizabeth. On the wall beside the monitor was a shelf which housed a bunch of discs in plastic CD cases. I ran my fingers along their spines and stopped when I had found the previous day’s disc. I plucked it from the shelf and placed it into the DVD player beneath the TV.

  The monitor went blank then flickered into life and once again I was viewing the gas station forecourt from the previous day. It was like going back in time. In the right-hand corner of the screen flashed yesterday’s date and time. It read 07:13 hrs. I held my finger down on the fast-forward button and whizzed through the next few hours of footage. Banner had told me that Emily’s credit card had been used in the Seven-Eleven store at 10:30 am, so I let the DVD run at normal speed from 10:25 am just to make sure and take into account any timing discrepancies.

  We stood in the staffroom and glanced anxiously up at the screen, both hoping that we would see Emily. The clock on the film ticked round to 10:30 am and we still hadn’t seen her.

  “Come on,” I breathed, hoping for just one break.

  “Take it easy, tiger,” Potter said, sensing how anxious I was becoming.

  By 10:31 am there was still no sign of her. The minutes seemed to take an eternity to pass. Now 10:32 am — nothing. Then, as the clock turned to 10:33 am on the screen, I saw something. I quickly pressed the pause button and the image froze. I moved closer to the screen until my nose was almost pressed against it and I screwed up my eyes and stared at the screen. I didn’t recognise the person leaving the store a few moments after Emily’s credit card had been used but it definitely wasn’t Emily Clarke. Even through the grainy black and white image on the screen I could see that it was a man. He was tall, with black, swept back hair, wearing a black suit.

  “Who do you think that is?” Potter asked me.

  I had never seen McCain, but from the grainy picture on the screen, the image of the man looked just how Elizabeth Clarke had described him.

  “McCain,
” I said, unable to take my eyes from the TV.

  “How can you be so sure?” Potter asked, peering over my shoulder.

  “I can’t,” I told him, taking the disc from the DVD player. “Let’s just hope that Isidor has done his homework in researching this McCain.”

  “Let’s hope,” Potter said, sounding unconvinced.

  “But one thing’s for sure,” I said, looking at him. “Emily Clarke didn’t use her credit card yesterday. So where is she now?”

  “Beats the shit out of me,” Potter said, heading back through the kiosk.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” the girl with the gum called out as we headed out of the door.

  “Maybe,” I smiled, leaving the kiosk.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Kayla

  We waited for lights-out, and for the school to fall into silence before we dared leave our rooms. With his head bent low, and crouched over like a crab, Sam made his way down the narrow staircase at the end of the corridor. I followed him down the spiral stairwell and into the bowels of Ravenwood. The school was in darkness, and I felt my way down the staircase by brushing the tips of my fingers against the stone wall, listening to the snap-snap sound of Sam’s shoes ahead of me. Reaching the ground floor, Sam crept through the passageways which stretched throughout Ravenwood. I followed.

  Ahead, oblong shards of moonlight fell through the corridor windows and lit our way. I could hear the sound of Sam’s racing heart and it was almost deafening in the desolate corridors. My stomach tightened and I felt sick. Back in my bedroom, the idea of searching out Emily Clarke’s bedroom seemed exciting, but Sam hadn’t mentioned anything about how creepy the school was during the night and in the dark. Every shadow we passed I eyed with dread, fearing that a Grey would appear from within the gloom and come racing towards me, sizzle-stick in hand, its end pulsating with shocks of electric blue light.

  The hallway windows looked out across the grounds of the school. As we neared each one, Sam would flap his hand in a downwards motion, signalling for me to drop. Crouching as we passed beneath the windows, the white light from the search towers flooded the hall then swooped away again. Standing, with backs arched, we moved off again. Ahead, the hallway veered to the right and I followed Sam down it. Not once did Sam falter or stop to wonder what direction he should take. He seemed to know where he was heading. As we rounded the bend, I stopped, threw my arm out against Sam’s chest and pressed him to the wall.

  “What?” he said, looking startled.

  “Shhh!” I hissed. “Can’t you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Sam whispered.

  Then, the sound of crying — no pleading — that I could hear, seeped up from below.

  “That!” I said, my eyes wide like saucers.

  The sound came again. But this time it sounded more like whimpering than sobbing.

  “Where’s it coming from?” Sam asked, taking one of my hands in his. It felt nice to be holding his hand, but his flesh felt cold like a corpse. Sam glanced to his left and then to his right, as he tried to find the whereabouts of the noise in the pitch blackness of the school.

  It came again, but this time words could be heard between each sob and whimper.

  “Nooooo….Pleeeaaassee stop! I beg you!” The voice sounded like the person was being strangled. Whoever had muttered those words was in complete agony.

  I followed the voice in the darkness and it led us to the top of a narrow wooden staircase fixed into the corridor wall. The stairs led down beneath Ravenwood.

  “I’ve never seen these stairs before,” Sam whispered behind his hand.

  “I think we should head back…” I started, just wanting to contact Kiera and tell her what I had discovered. But what had I discovered? Not much. No proof yet of what had happened to Emily.

  A splash of light from the search towers illuminated the corridor. It fell across our face. And seeing the fear in Sam’s eyes, I knew what he had meant when he said I looked as if I were about to shit myself. We dropped to the floor and lay on our stomachs. I could hear a scratching sound from beside me and I rolled onto my side.

  “What’s that noise?” I whispered.

  “What? The scratching noise?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s me,” Sam said.

  “What are you doing? Someone will hear!” I groaned.

  “Shhh!” Sam said. “I’ve found something.”

  “What?”

  “The reason why I’ve never seen this stairwell before,” Sam told me.

  “How come?”

  “They’ve had it hidden behind this bookcase,” Sam whispered. “They just slide it aside when they want to go down…”

  “You’re hurting me,” the voice from below came again, and it sounded weak and petrified. “I don’t know anything about any….no! Pleeeaaassee stop!”

  “I think we should get outter…” Sam started.

  “No — wait. I want to listen to this,” I whispered, my head tilted towards the top of the stairwell.

  “Are you out of your tiny mind?” Sam whispered.

  “Shhh!” I told him, putting a finger to my lips.

  “…I don’t know what you’re talking about…” the voice echoed up from below again and this time I got the sense that the voice belonged to a woman. “…Just let me go…I promise I won’t say anything!”

  We were so intent on listening to the woman’s pitiful voice that neither of us heard the sound of footfalls climbing the stairwell which led up from the basement. Searchlight flooded the corridor again and poured down the stairwell. In the flash of brilliant white light, I saw a shadow creeping along the wall of the stairwell as someone came up from the depths of Ravenwood towards us.

  “Go!” I cried, scrambling to my feet.

  “Say what?” Sam asked, sounding surprised.

  “Someone’s coming!” I hissed.

  And then, as if being kicked in the ribs, Sam jumped to his feet and raced away down the corridor, as I clambered at his heels. I glanced back over my shoulder, but the searchlight had swept away, and all I could see was darkness. I didn’t know what was worse, not being able to see what it was that had come from beneath the stairs or the terrifying images my mind would create later while I lay in the dark on my own.

  Without warning, Sam stopped ahead and I nearly crashed into him.

  “How much more noise are you planning on making?” Sam groaned in the darkness. “You’ll have the whole goddamn school awake in a minute!”

  “Oh stop your moaning. It wasn’t me who was moving pieces of furniture about back there! Anyway, why’d you stop like that all of a sudden, its pitch bla-”

  “Cos we’re here, that’s why,” Sam whispered.

  “Where’s here?”

  “Miss Clarke’s room,” Sam whispered, and as he swung open the door, a burst of searchlight splashed against the corridor walls again. Sam grabbed my hand again, and pulling me into the room he closed the door behind us.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Kayla

  The searchlights swept back and forth across the lawns outside Emily Clarke’s bedroom window. I glanced around the room and in the odd flashes of light from outside I could see that the room was furnished very similarly to my own. There was a single bed in the corner, a wardrobe, desk, and a bookshelf, which looked like it was going to collapse under the weight of the books crammed on its shelves.

  “That was close,” I sighed, looking into Sam’s eyes.

  He stared straight back. His breathing sounded shallow and I could hear his heart racing in his chest again, but something told me that it wasn’t through fear this time. Feeling a little embarrassed by his gaze, I pulled my hand from his, and stepped away.

  “So what are we looking for exactly?” Sam asked.

  Not wanting him to know that I was looking for the camera that Elizabeth Clarke had told Kiera her sister had hidden, I stepped towards the wardrobe and said, “I’m not sure.”
>
  The room lit up again as the searchlights swept passed the window outside. It was then that I saw the blood. It looked like someone had gone crazy with a paint brush that had been dipped in red paint. Dried blood stained the walls, the ceiling, and the wooden floor in thick streaks and splashes.

  “What the fuck…?” Sam breathed in horror seeing the blood for the first time.

  I had seen enough of the red stuff to last me a lifetime, but the sight of it made my stomach knot as I thought of how good it tasted. For just the briefest of moments I felt dizzy and swayed backwards, as part of me wanted to start licking the walls clean.

  Sam caught hold of me in his arms and held me close. I could hear his heart again and I could tell that he enjoyed holding me. “Are you okay?” he whispered. “I don’t like the sight of blood either.”

  If only he knew, I thought to myself as the dizziness faded along with my cravings. “Yeah, it’s something like that,” I told him, glancing around the room at the blood. I wished that Kiera was here, because within moments she would be doing her thing — crawling around the room on her hands and knees, seeing stuff that no one else could. Kiera would have been able to tell me exactly what had happened in this room. Just by glancing at the amount of blood that had been spilt, I knew that someone had died in here — they had been butchered. I could guess that it had been Emily Clarke who had died here, but how and who had murdered her, I didn’t know.

  “Are you okay?” Sam asked again, as he watched me looking around the room at all the dried blood.