by M W Foolster
An explosive bang suddenly fills the air, and has them all cowering with fear.
"DONT ANYBODY MOVE."
Gulping loudly, the zombie raises his hands above his head. The others do likewise on seeing a gun being waved around in front of them.
The masked female points it towards the grim reaper shouting, "YOU!"
Throws a clutch bag across to him,
"PICK THEM UP."
Now on his hands and knees, he duly obliges.
"THE REST OF YOU, GET OVER HERE… NOW!"
Waving the gun menacingly, she indicates that she wants them all sat on the floor in front of the bar. Having already bolted the pub doors, she makes a quick sweep of the pub before checking that the grim reaper is doing as instructed. The psychotic laugh that erupts from her as she struts along in front of the trembling staff, and customers, leaves them all fearing for their lives.
"NOW. GET THE MASKS OFF. I WANT TO SEE YOUR FACES!"
Identities now revealed, most seem of little interest to her other than the two sat at the end of the line. She visibly tenses on noticing that the couple are holding hands.
"RIGHT, ALL OF YOU, GET YOUR HANDS LINKED ABOVE YOUR HEADS… NOW!"
But she is still unable to tear her eyes away from the couple sat on the end, and moves towards them. Pointing the gun menacingly at Jason's head, she leans forward and whispers,
"Hope you believe in God because you and your bitch are about to meet him."
"Selena?"
"Yes, fuckwit, it's me. And this is just an added bonus. Life can be so sweet. Just knowing that my voice is the last one you'll ever hear has really made my day."
"You don't have to do this, Selena. Please. This is crazy. What do you want me to do?"
"Do?"
Having run the barrel of the gun down the bridge of his nose, Selena rests it against his mouth, bursting into an evil laugh on seeing him flinch. She applies pressure to the gun, forcing it between his lips, and leans into him.
"I want you to start praying, you arsewipe. Not that it will do you any good. Have dreamt of this moment and, well, my only regret is that it has to be so quick, because I had so many slow and painful ways of killing you in mind. For months it was a tossup between burying you alive in Addlington cemetery, or dumping you in a beer vat in the old brewery, but both would of presented logistical problems. And then I had a brainwave. Sulphuric acid in a bath, nice and slow, and it disposes of the evidence. Yes, that became my personal fav. As it happens, you've got lucky, the diamonds take priority. Disappointing, but c'est la vie. This will have to do."
A noise from behind her has Selena turning to check on the grim reaper, Jazz leans towards Jason whispering,
“What’s she saying?”
He’s about to reply but is cut short as Selena’s eyes come to rest on Jazz.
“Shut it, bitch.”
"Leave her out of this. Please Selena, I am begging you, it's got nothing to do with her."
Cocking the gun, she points it at his temple,
"Ohh, but it has."
Is about to pull the trigger when she's suddenly distracted by growling to the side of her. The gunfire has them all shrieking in panic, closely followed by the agonising screams of a female. On seeing the gun fall to the floor, DS Fuller is the quickest to react and scrambles towards it, but a vicious kick to his ribs sends him reeling backwards. The DS looks up to find the woman wrestling with Satan, her wrist clamped between his jaws. Without thinking, the DS Fuller lunges forward and rugby tackles the woman, bringing her crashing to the ground with an almighty thud. But in doing so, Satan loses his grip. Vicious nails narrowly miss the DS’s face as the woman retaliates. She shrieks at him as he kicks out at the gun, sending it sliding out of her reach. But the woman is unrelenting, her vicious talons now raking at his arm as she attempts to get to her feet. That is until a female's shoe comes crashing down on her hand.
“That’s for my Satan, you horrid woman.”
DS Fuller then kicks out at her, sending the shocked woman sliding across the wooden flooring. DI Jordan now seizes the opportunity to leap into action. Well, maybe not leap but he does crawl across to her and with the stunned woman now spread-eagled on her stomach, raises himself off of the ground before performing a belly flop on top of her. Now pinned to the ground and gasping for air, the DI thinks he can hear her pleading for respite,
“Can’t breathe.”
But he decides to ignore it. His eyes are then drawn to the clutch bag now filled with diamonds. If only he could. But then the pub doors explode inwards.
“Armed police. Don’t anybody move.”
DI Jordan stands with his hands in his pockets, now looking thoroughly dejected. Watches as Selena Trott, the attractive, friendly and seemingly cultured woman he’d spoken to earlier in the day, is led off in handcuffs. She’d certainly had him fooled. Following the incident in the Comfort Zone, he'd approached her, they'd returned to the car and shared a rather pleasant conversation. Her reasoning had seemed plausible, her tears genuine, and her actions justifiable, after all, it had hardly came as a surprise to discover that she'd previously been sexually harassed by Jason Sinclair. Not considering his previous misdemeanours. And far from feeling any sympathy for the sleazy creep, he'd congratulated her for executing such an ingenious ploy. The DI can but shake his head in disbelief as she turns and spits at him, before screaming obscenities at the library staff. Sighs heavily as the clutch bag containing the diamonds, is carried off the premises by the armed response unit. So close, and yet so far.
He then wanders across to Mabel, who’s being attended to by a paramedic. Having been pounced on by Satan, Selena had stumbled but had still managed to fire the gun, the bullet striking Mabel's arm. He grimaces on seeing the nasty flesh wound but the paramedic assures him that she’ll be fine.
“Hello Detective Jordan.”
Di Jordan smiles down at Mabel, and gently takes hold of her hand
“Yah awright, Mabel? And it’s Angus tae yah.”
“Angus? What a lovely name.”
“Jist dinae go telling everyone. How are yah feeling? It wis extremely brave, if a wee bit foolish o' yah tae tackle that psychopath."
“Don’t you worry, Angus, I won’t go telling anybody. And as for me being foolish. Tut.. Tut… My dear. Am sure that anybody else would of done the same. And all things considered, I'm feeling fine. But I really could do with your help."
"My help?"
"Yes, dear. This lovely young man tells me that I need to go to the hospital and have the wound seen to, but they won’t allow Satan in the ambulance. I am terribly sorry to have to ask this of you but would you be so kind as to look after him for me?"
“Me? I… I... But I dinae think that he likes me very much, Mabel.”
Looking down at the now docile dog laying at her feet, he feels a sudden sense of apprehension on seeing the mischievous glint in its eyes.
“Nonsense, dear, of course he does. Satan, you will be a good doggie for the nice detective, won’t you?”
As if in acknowledgement, the dog barks up at her.
“Would you be a love Angus, and pass me my bag?”
A now resigned DI Jordan hands her a hessian bag.
"Have yah nae got a relative, or a neighbour who could look after him? After all, it'll only be for the night."
"Oh no, dear. None of them live close enough, besides which, I very rarely hear from them, let alone see them. Not anymore. And as for my neighbours, they're all far too scared of my little Satan."
"Cannae think why."
Somewhat reluctantly, he takes hold of the dog’s lead that Mabel fishes out of her bag.
“And one other thing, dear.”
“Aye, Mabel?”
“I think they must have missed this one.”
Mabel smiles up at the bemused detective as she drops something into his hand. The DS look down at the small diamond resting in the palm of his hand, and clenches his fist.
“And thi
s is my address dear.”
Passes him a scrawled note before being helped from the pub by the paramedic. A now somewhat desperate DI Jordan scans the pub looking for John, fully intending to delegate the responsibility of looking after Satan to the hapless DS. But…
Having checked on the well-being of Jason, Tammy and Jazz, a still shaken Susie makes a point of looking for DS Fuller.
“That was real brave of you.”
Blushing profusely, and with his usual gormless expression, the DS grins at her
“It’s nothing, Miss French. Just doing my job.”
Susie takes hold of his arm,
“What's with the, Miss French, it's Susie to you. Still, to take on an armed nutjob. You saved my friends you know, and well, I think you should get a medal or something.”
"Thanks, Susie. And I would do it all over again, for you that is. Would do anything for you."
Susie turns and look up at him, the DS cringing, hoping that hasn't said too much.
“That's really sweet of you, and I still haven't thanked you for earlier. In the riot, I mean. Look, Carlo is like, having a few drinks back at his and, well, after all the madness, guess we could all do with one. Do you, well, want to come back with me, as in like my guest?”
“Me?”
She giggles nervously,
“Yes, you.”
"Will there be dancing? Only I have two left feet and, well, am a crap dancer, and I wouldn't want to disappointment you."
Smiles up at him,
"Anybody ever tell you that you're quite a sweet guy, John? And be a shame not to make use of the Halloween costumes we've bought, right? Besides, didn't say anything about dancing, did I?"
"No… Ok… That’s a relief. Not that I wouldn't but... Well, I…"
She pinches his arm playfully, giggling as she replies,
"Unless that creep Kouch appears that is, and then I might have to grab hold of you in a seriously tight smooch and well, snog the lips off your face. That ok?"
Susie bursts into laughter on seeing the surprised and now scarlet DS nearly fall over his own feet.
"I hmmm. Well yes, whatever you want. Of course, I..."
"Shut up, John."
She hooks her arm through his, and directs him towards the pub door.
Having watched the DS wander from the pub with a demented grin plastered across his face, a hesitant DI Jordan clips the lead on to Satan's collar. He's expecting the dog to attack him at any moment but is pleasantly surprised to find him being very cooperative. In fact, Satan even wags his tail and licks the DI's hand before contentedly walking alongside him as they exit the pub
"Well, that's a first. Maybe Mabel wis right. Looks like it's jist yah and me now, right dug."
Cape and skeleton mask now discarded, he squeezes the single diamond that is now safely deposited in his jacket pocket.
"Have had worse days, mind. Fancy a savaloy and a bag of chips then duggo?"
The dog barks excitedly.
"Aye, me an all, that's settled then."
Stomach rumbling and with only one thought in mind, the DI pays little attention to the Voodoo witch doctor sat on the wall fiddling with a mobile phone.
The tears have barely dried on his cheeks, when Gabriel feels the mobile vibrating in his pocket. But it can wait. He'd watched on in horror as Louise had been dragged from the pub, screaming and shouting abuse, hands handcuffed behind her back. Even with her hair now dyed red, there was no mistaking her, but why? None of this makes any sense. The lump in his throat as she'd been forced into the police car, and the quick glance across at him as they'd sped by. Not that she'd of recognised him, not wearing this costume. The incessant vibrating from the mobile has him reaching into his pocket, a one worded text from Butner. 'WELL'
He types his response, but just can't bring himself to hit send. And is still dithering when he's suddenly distracted at having spotted DI Jordan leaving the pub. Looks at him cautiously, the DI now passing within several inches, that psychotic dog from the cemetery trotting along beside him. And barely has time to move before the dog cocks his leg, the steaming jet of pee only just missing him. An unsympathetic DI chuckling as he snaps, "The dug has tae piss, laddie." Before continuing on his way.
Gabriel can almost imagine the dog chuckling too. But to call it Satan. Who in their right mind would call a dog by that name? And as for the Walrus, he's got away with this kind of shit for years. Just isn't right, but he'll get his come-uppence one day, and Gabriel hopes he’ll be there to see it.
Looks down at his mobile. Knows he's little option other than to inform Butner that the police now have possession of the diamonds, but is dreading what the consequences might be for Frenchy. Yes, the text message was typed over ten minutes back, but he still can't bring himself to hit send. A guilty conscious as he now watches Yassi exiting the pub, accompanied by a small group of people. He so wants to speak to her, but if he does, he knows that the anger would drain from him. And he needs that hatred to be raw, needs the rage burning within him if he's to deal with Dyson. As for the diamonds. Damn Butner. Should have refused to be his errand boy. But like he could though. So much for being a free man. Grits his teeth, whispering to himself “Sorry, Frenchy.” And hits send.
27 Not So Sweet Dreams
Jason rolls over and looks at the clock. 2am. So much for getting to sleep at a sensible time. Is tempted to go squeeze Robbie's nose, the incessant snoring is driving him insane, and it's not as though he'd invited him to spend the night on his floor. Had watched Jazz and Tammy leave, Jazz having promised to return the following morning, and wandered up to his flat to find Robbie stretched out on the floor. The cheeky devil had even helped himself to the last of his clean bed linen. His eyes stinging, and feeling exhausted, Jason looks down at Robbie enviously. But it's not just the snoring that's keeping him awake. He can still hear the music from Carlo's, can hardly begrudge any of them having some fun though, not after the ordeal Selena had put them all through. Reaches across for the glass of water, another look at the clock. 2:15. Gulps some down. That damned snoring. Throws his spare pillow at Robbie, watches as he just grunts several times, and turns over. That's better. Jason closes his eyes, the sheep counting didn't help, kept losing them and so will try visualising a relaxing scene instead. A gentle stroll along a tropical beach, white sand between his toes, gentle waves lapping over his feet. Hmmm... Ohhh not again... The sound of heavy metal vibrating throughout the bedsit now has him pulling the remaining pillow over his head. Bloody Kouch. He could go pull the main fuse to his bedsit, claim that there had been another power cut, it worked last time. But that would mean moving. Jason feels the anger rising inside of him as he thinks back to what Jazz had told him earlier. About the ordeal Kouch had put Susie through. That issue still needs to be resolved, and he’d personally see to it tomorrow. Swinging his feet over the edge of the sofa bed, Jason plods across to his bathrobe and fishes out a pair of ear plugs from the pocket. Now safely inserted, he thumps back down on the squeaky mattress, and stretches out. His thoughts return to Kouch. Should really of spoken to him earlier, at Carlo’s party. Not that Kouch had stayed for long. Having taken one look across at the DS, who’d had Susie’s tongue down his throat at the time, Kouch had promptly left. Susie hadn't seemed overly concerned by his presence, that's if she'd even noticed him skulking in the corner swigging from a vodka bottle, having been far too preoccupied with DS Fuller.
Right, back to the beach. Yes the clear blue ocean, warm white sand under foot, the taste of salt water on his lips, the smell of coconuts in the air, luscious green palm trees. And a hammock strung up between the two closest trees. Two naked bodies. Arghhhg. NOOO. He sits bolt upright. Susie and the DS's naked bodies on his beach. Really? Finishing off the last of the water, Jason sighs at seeing it's now 2:45. Stretches across and retrieves the pillow he'd thrown at Robbie earlier. With the pillows now plumped up, he takes a deep breath and gently lowers his head into them. Of course it's not really surprising th
at Kouch had backed off on seeing Susie with the DS. With his black eye, bruised face and fat lip, he'd looked surprisingly menacing. Perhaps that is what had appealed to Susie, because as to what else she'd see in that daft detective is totally beyond him. And judging by the sounds he'd heard coming from her flat, she really is into him. But on a hammock? He dreads to think. That aside, DS Fuller might just prove to be their knight in shining armour. Robbie and Jess had nearly suffocated the poor guy, having leapt on him, hugged him and even planted a few sloppy kisses on his cheeks when the DS had revealed to them that he'd overheard Fuker's conversation. And just what it had revealed. Jenny Forster at the Borrington Informer will have a field day with that story. Assuming the DS can find his mobile that is, thinks he dropped it in the DI’s car earlier.
Jason still has his suspicions as to whether DS Fuller had previously encountered Selena bloody Trott, because, despite his denial at never having seen her before tonight, he'd become extremely sheepish at the mention of her name. With his bottom lip quivering, and his hand constantly rubbing at his leg, the DS had barely spoken when they'd discussed the woman's psychotic episode in the Jolly Roger. Strange considering he'd emerged as a hero. Not that Jason had wanted to dwell on the subject for long, not with Jazz sat next to him, and had been so relieved Robbie didn't once mention the Comfort Zone. It was Tammy who'd explained to them that Selena had never forgiven Jason for rejecting her as a band member, in favour of Jazz. But just how anybody could harbour a grudge for that many years is totally beyond his understanding, and to have plotted such a gruesome revenge, well it's the stuff that nightmares are made of. With any luck she'll be locked away for life, and preferably in a mental institution, because there's no doubting that the woman is completely insane.
Still, all things considered, it's a minor miracle that he'd even survived the day. But survived he had. And as for the diamonds. Hard to believe he'd been running around Borrington with what, maybe a million pounds worth of diamonds concealed in a ghoul. Can't help but wonder what he'd have done if he'd known. Would most likely have handed them into the police, despite the obvious temptation. Feels his eyelids growing heavy, returns to his beach, a warm breeze. And then comes the darkness.