The Last Weekend

by Julie Morrigan

‘Wait a minute!’ said Monkeyboy. ‘I’m not sure we should be giving up just like that!’

  ‘We aren’t, man,’ said JacktheRiffer. ‘We’re pressing on and hoping we find something soon. Maybe in half an hour we’ll be able to see lights, or hear traffic – something that makes it worth our while to keep going, even though we’re losing the light.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ said BlackWidow. ‘The sooner we make tracks, the better. I sure don’t want to go back to that house for another night if it can be avoided, not now we’ve made it out.’

  They walked on, picking up the pace in their hope of finding something, some sign of habitation, however small, but there was nothing – just a seemingly endless single-track road that they wandered along in a ragged crocodile, craning their necks and peering into the distance. Rain had started to fall, gently at first, then more heavily.

  ‘There aren’t even any sheep,’ complained JacktheRiffer. ‘It’s like we’ve fallen off the planet into some strange dimension where only we exist.’

  ‘Not just us,’ said Monkeyboy. ‘Us and him.’ He was limping, starting to lag behind a little.

  ‘What’s up?’ asked Indigo.

  ‘Blister, I reckon. Not much I can do about it.’

  ‘Here, let me see,’ said BlackWidow. ‘Maybe we can put some padding or something on the bit that’s rubbing.’

  Monkeyboy grabbed Indigo’s arm to steady himself then, wincing, eased off the shoe that was hurting his foot, then the sock beneath it.

  ‘Oh, my,’ said BlackWidow. ‘That does not look good.’ Monkeyboy’s entire left heel was covered in a blister, and the constant chafing had taken the skin off the top of it. It was red, raw and angry looking.

  ‘I don’t think I’m going to be able to put that back on,’ he said, nodding at his shoe.

  ‘Here,’ said JacktheRiffer, handing him a steak knife, ‘cut the back out; that should stop it rubbing, at least.’

  Monkeyboy sawed at the shoe and cut away the part that was causing the problem, then cut a hole in his sock, too. He put the sock back on, then put his foot back into what was left of his shoe and tried a few steps. ‘Thanks,’ he said to JacktheRiffer, ‘that should be okay now.’ He looked at the others. ‘Shall we press on?’

  Indigo put his hand on Mayfly’s shoulder. ‘It’s time we faced facts, people. We’re going to have to turn back.’

  ‘No,’ said Monkeyboy, ‘we can’t. It’s suicide! If we go back there, he’ll kill us.’ He pushed wet hair out of his eyes as twin red spots appeared on his pale cheeks.

  ‘Well, he hasn’t got us yet, has he?’ said Indigo. ‘Come on, man, it’s all about being in the least dangerous place.’

  ‘The least dangerous place? I reckon that’s probably out here, to be honest.’ Monkeyboy’s breathing became shallower, his eyes wider. ‘I can’t go back. Let’s just give it another half an hour. We could be so close—’

  ‘If we keep going for another half an hour and find nothing, then we’re in trouble for getting back,’ said Indigo.

  ‘Oh, fuck!’ said Monkeyboy. ‘We’re all going to die. Fuck!’ He was struggling for breath and the two red spots on his cheeks were spreading across his face.

  BlackWidow gripped him by the shoulders. ‘Look at me,’ she said. ‘Come on, look at me.’

  Monkeyboy did, and he looked terrified.

  ‘Now breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Look at me. Breathe in …. and out. And in …. and out … good, that’s better.’

  ‘Thanks. I’m sorry, I just lost it there for a minute.’

  The rain turned to hail, vicious chips of ice that stung where they hit flesh.

  ‘Right,’ said Indigo. ‘We stick together. We take the least dangerous option. We go back.’

  Chapter 34

  Almost four hours later, tired, cold and despondent, the group limped back to the wrought-iron gates of the house. The hail had been replaced by rain, and then it had faired up, although the wind had got wilder, reducing the temperature even more.

  They had been walking in darkness for over an hour. Luckily there was a full moon; it provided the only illumination they had to see by. They saw no lights, either house lights or vehicle headlights, in any direction. There was just darkness.

  They had formed a tight group, taking turns to be in the middle, checking behind and to the sides regularly, listening for the slightest sound, and their nerves were frayed. All they had heard was an occasional bird flying past or the scamper of tiny feet in the undergrowth, which made them even more afraid. What if he was there? What if he was so good at tracking, at hiding, that they simply couldn’t detect any sign of him? After all, he had been pretty smart when it came to taking SpeedKing, that morning.

  BlackWidow looked up at the gates. It had taken it out of her to scale them earlier, when she was fresh, and now she had to do it again when her muscles ached, she was tired, the wind was blowing a gale and the metal was covered in thick frost. Her heart sank. Then she remembered that they had left the door unlocked and wondered if that would turn out to have mattered. Probably not, she reasoned. The killer seemed to be able to come and go at will. He probably just dematerialised and then popped up again wherever he chose to.

  Indigo was considering the order in which people should climb the gates. First and last ones over were the most at risk, he reckoned, and so they should probably be him and JacktheRiffer. BlackWidow would need help and encouragement, and Monkeyboy would most likely need a hand, too. He looked at Mayfly and got a lump in his throat. Had things gone as originally planned, they’d both have been dead by now. As it was, he hoped to God they made it through to morning.

  Indigo snapped his attention back to the task at hand. ‘Okay, folks,’ he said, ‘let’s get back in. JacktheRiffer, will you go first, please?’

  JacktheRiffer climbed the gates for the fourth time that day and dropped down safely on the other side.

  ‘Now you, love.’

  Mayfly scrambled over, then watched Indigo anxiously, sure he would wait until last and determined not to lose sight of him.

  BlackWidow followed Mayfly.

  Come on, girl, you can do it, she told herself. You’ve done it once, you can do it again. Easy, now. She got to the top and climbed over. Once on the other side she relaxed a little, and started to hurry to get down and join the others on firm ground. In her eagerness, she missed her footing and fell the last couple of feet, landing heavily on the ground.

  BlackWidow was shocked and winded, eyes beginning to tear up.

  Mayfly knelt down beside her. ‘Don’t try to move just yet,’ she said. ‘Give yourself a minute to get your breath back.’

  ‘Oh, my!’ she exclaimed, when she could speak.

  ‘Can you stand?’ asked JacktheRiffer.

  BlackWidow tried, but her ankle gave way beneath her. ‘I’m sorry, people,’ she said. ‘I’ve just made things worse. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Indigo. ‘You just sit tight. When we’re all over there, we’ll help you back to the house.’ He turned to Monkeyboy. ‘You next. Do you think you can make it?’

  ‘I should be able to,’ said Monkeyboy. He went over to the gate, took hold of the bars and hauled himself up. As Monkeyboy was climbing over, Mayfly kept her eyes on Indigo. This was when he was at his most vulnerable – when he was alone in the road. Indigo’s eyes were glued to Monkeyboy, and the instant his feet touched the ground on the far side of the gate, he began to climb. Mayfly held her breath as he scaled the gate and swung first one leg and then the other over the top, then he was standing next to her and they were all together again, ready for the long walk up the tree-lined drive to the front door.

  ‘Okay,’ said Indigo, ‘let’s get back inside.’ He considered for a moment. ‘Jack, you and I will support BlackWidow. Mayfly, hold hands with Monkeyboy and hang on to my coat. No one is to let go until we’re inside and the door’s locked.’ He had no idea what difference that would make, but reckoned he would
feel a whole lot better with a locked door at his back.

  Slowly and deliberately, they made their way back up the drive. As they got closer, they saw that the front door was wide open.

  ‘Jack and I will go in first and make sure the coast is clear,’ said Indigo. ‘You lot wait here a minute.’

  Mayfly and Monkeyboy stepped up to support BlackWidow and the two men went inside, flicking on the light switches as they moved between the downstairs rooms and had a quick look in each. Once they knew it was safe, they shouted to the others to join them.

  Once inside, they shut the door behind them.

  ‘I can’t find the key,’ said Indigo. ‘I posted it back through the letter box, and it’s gone.’

  ‘Just be grateful the door wasn’t locked against us,’ said Monkeyboy. ‘Now that really would have been a pisser.’

  Chapter 35

  Deep in the shadows at the side of the building, Glasgow and Slayer watched them all trudge up the driveway and into the house.

  ‘See?’ said Glasgow. ‘What did I tell you?’

  ‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw them all fuck off over the gate.’

  ‘There’s nowhere to go. They only ever had two options: come back here or get in the van if and when we sent it along the road for them. And then we’d have just taken them to the lodge a few hours earlier than planned.’

  ‘I know. I just … you know.’

  ‘How’s it been?’ said Glasgow, wanting to change the subject.

  ‘Very worthwhile. One of them killed himself before I got to him, which is disappointing, but I’ve picked four off, five with the organiser. Reaperman, ha! He’s the one that got reaped! I even got one off the road when they were checking things out earlier to see if they could work out which way to go.’ He remembered how it had felt to peel the scalp from the man’s head and shivered with pleasure. ‘I still have work to do, though. I’m not done yet.’

  ‘Good for you. You’re a natural. You’ll have to think about doing it again, eh?’

  ‘Already am. Well, I’d best get back in. Last few hours …’

  ‘Go on, enjoy yourself. Now might be the time to be bold. They’re tired and dejected. They’re already cold and, with the door standing open for so long, the house will be freezing. Might be worth taking a wee chance, eh?’

  ‘As well as leaving the front door open, I turned the heating off. Bit of punishment for fucking me about.’

  ‘Good man!’ Glasgow watched Slayer creep back into the house by the side entrance. It was obscured by trees; if you didn’t know I was there, you’d never find it. The Last Weekend just had a few hours to run now and then it would be clean-up time. It had all gone well, better than he could have hoped. When word got out about the experience in certain circles – those populated by wealthy and privileged people with dark appetites – he would be inundated with requests. He’d already decided to run specials: events with just young women or just young men. He was still working out how to run a chicken hunt; he desperately needed some contacts in children’s homes.

  He’d also decided that next time they’d just pick people up off the street, same as for the hunts. All the palaver and the costs associated with selecting people the way Philip had were a waste. Besides, Philip was dead, and he certainly wasn’t going to spend time listening to people moaning on about how tough they had it. Less food, less drink, less fuss – just a bunch of people waking up in a room in a house in the middle of nowhere, with no idea where they were, how they’d got there or why. Although the ‘why’ would become clear soon enough.

  Chapter 36

  It was eight o’clock, and Indigo, Mayfly, BlackWidow, JacktheRiffer and Monkeyboy were gathered in the front sitting room. All the lamps on the ground floor had been lit. As they no longer had a key for the front door, they had heaved the old reception desk across the hall and pushed it up against it.

  ‘I think we should all stay here in this room, together, tonight,’ Indigo said. ‘If we need to go out for any reason, then no one goes anywhere on their own.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Monkeyboy.

  ‘We’ll need to go up to the bedrooms and bring down whatever bedding and other stuff we all need. We’ll also need to go to the kitchen and sort some food out. Other than that, we sit it out, stick together, and wait for help to arrive in the morning.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’ll be a great deal of use to anybody,’ said BlackWidow. She was propped up in an armchair, her foot on a stool. Mayfly had found some bandages and strapped up her ankle, which they believed to be sprained, rather than broken. While that was a bonus, she still wasn’t very mobile. She couldn’t climb the gates again, or even walk far; she certainly couldn’t run, should it prove necessary.

  ‘That’s okay,’ said Indigo. ‘You, Mayfly and Monkeyboy stay here together.’ Monkeyboy had also had his foot bandaged, although his discomfort didn’t prevent him from moving, and quickly, if needs be. ‘Jack and I will go up to the first floor and get what we all need for the night, then we’ll do a raid on the kitchen for food and drink.’

  ‘Bring extra blankets,’ said Mayfly, ‘it’s freezing!’

  Before they went upstairs, JacktheRiffer and Indigo pulled a side table over to the door that led into the hall. ‘When we get through,’ he said to Mayfly, ‘push that a bit closer. Just enough so the door won’t open wide enough for anyone to get in without banging against it.’

  The men stuck together as they went up the stairs, turning lights on as they went. It didn’t matter what they were; table lamps, floor lamps, overhead lights, they all went on. The place was soon burning more lamps than Blackpool at the height of the season.

  BlackWidow had asked for a shawl, a wrap that she had knitted herself, to be brought down, along with the book she was reading. Monkeyboy wanted his contact lens paraphernalia and his glasses. They gathered those things up first, then loaded up on bedding, and took their bundles downstairs.

  They had to make two trips and second time around they felt slightly braver, although they were just as watchful as they approached the stairs again. All was quiet, nothing seemed out of place, but it was difficult, and potentially fatal, to relax. JacktheRiffer tried not to think about Scaredycat and DeadManWalking lying in their rooms, dead and beginning to decompose. The very thought gave him the creeps. Then there were the people in the attic, posed in the awful tableau. He reckoned SpeedKing would very likely have joined them by now and be lying under the bike. He remembered the detail about Astrid being scalped and shuddered.

  They went into Indigo’s room and he grabbed some candles and Mayfly’s music system, after which they headed to Monkeyboy’s room. When JacktheRiffer came out, he was carrying his guitar.

  ‘I find it relaxing,’ he said. ‘I’ll play, if no one objects.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Indigo. ‘I think it’ll be good for everyone.’ They finished picking up the things they needed and headed back downstairs again.

  Once the things they had brought from upstairs had been deposited in the sitting room, the two men headed through to the kitchen. Working quickly, they put a selection of canned and bottled drinks on the trolley, along with bread, cheese and cold meat from the fridge. JacktheRiffer found a box of biscuits and Indigo picked up a ginger cake, then they headed back through to join BlackWidow, Monkeyboy and Mayfly.

  ‘Right,’ said Indigo, ‘before we close this door, does anyone need a toilet break?’ It hadn’t been that long since the last one, but he didn’t want people to feel awkward or uncomfortable. They had enough to worry about. Having been assured that everyone was fine, he and JacktheRiffer pushed the table against the big door and he heaved a sigh of relief.

  Mayfly and Indigo made sure everyone had a drink and then loaded food onto plates and passed them around. After the exertions of the day, what they really needed was a decent hot meal inside them, but while there was certainly the means to provide one, the risks associated with spending that amount of time in the kitchen were deemed to be
simply too great. This room had one door and two windows, and all were securely fastened shut.

  BlackWidow checked her watch. ‘Half past nine, people. We should only have around twelve hours, max, to go. We can hang on for another twelve hours, right?’

  ‘I fucking hope so,’ said Monkeyboy.

  ‘Yes,’ said Indigo firmly. ‘We can.’ He slipped his arm around Mayfly and kissed her cheek, enjoying the closeness, taking comfort from her being there. She had set her music system up and Carole King had been singing quietly; it wasn’t so loud that anything untoward would go unnoticed, but it took the edge off the silence. Not that the killer made much noise, anyway. He seemed to come and go like a ghost.

  The album finished and JacktheRiffer reached for his guitar. ‘Anybody mind?’ he asked.

  ‘You go right ahead, honey. I’d really like to hear you play,’ said BlackWidow.

  JacktheRiffer tuned up and then played for them all. He chose his music well and played tunes that were relaxing and peaceful.

  Monkeyboy and Indigo sat together talking, trading stories.

  ‘I ended up here because I was living a lie,’ said Monkeyboy. ‘It had to end.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘I was married with a couple of kids. But I’m gay.’

  Indigo nodded. ‘Something similar happened to a mate of mine, he reckoned he just woke up one morning and realised that was what was wrong with his life.’

  ‘In my case, I’d always known, but I tried to ignore it. I was in a relationship when I was younger, but Chris – that was his name – and I got found out and we were punished. We weren’t allowed to see each other again.’

  ‘That’s harsh, man.’

  ‘It gets worse. Chris hanged himself. Then, about a year ago, I got a call from Chris’s mother. His dad had been killed in a car crash, oh, three or four years before that, so she was the only one left. I went round to see her and she told me she had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It’s a nasty one, that, doesn’t take any prisoners. She said she wanted to set things straight while she still had time and she gave me a letter, an envelope with my name on it. It was yellowed, a bit battered, and it was Chris’s writing. I knew it straight away.’ Monkeyboy ran his hands over his face. ‘It had been opened. I wasn’t the first one to read it. It was … it turned out to be Chris’s suicide note. It said that he loved me and that he always would, that everything he had written in his last two notes to me had been true. His father could beat him until his fists bled, but Chris still couldn’t accept that we had done anything wrong. He said that he understood that I had decided to live a “normal” life and to toe the line, but that he couldn’t live without me.’