by Shaun Baines
Daniel turned to Choo. "And you helped Crash?"
"I always help," Choo said with a smile.
"Why?"
What was wrong with these two, thought Choo?
His mother's voice answered for him. They weren't real men. They were users. They'd leave him whenever they got the chance, but Choo didn't get that impression. They seemed committed to finding answers and he admired that.
"I'm a good boy," Choo said.
Daniel and Viper looked at each other and he saw them smirking.
They didn't understand a child's responsibility. His mother was bedridden now. Duties included bed baths, changing the sheets and guiding her to the toilet. Old age and dependency had mellowed her.
As did her desperation. If she was ever curt or in any way ungrateful, he'd sometimes leave her to stew in her own filth for a while. Just to remind her what a good boy was and what being bad could mean.
"I have an idea," Daniel said, holding out his hand.
Sensing it was the same idea he had, Viper gave Daniel his knife.
"This is what's going to happen," Daniel said, cutting the ties binding Choo's wrists.
"You're letting him go?" Viper asked. "I thought we were going to kill him."
"You don't like it here, do you?" Daniel asked Choo. "I can tell."
There were always men like Daniel, thought Choo. They prowled the streets, but not in the way Choo did.
Choo was bait. He was the spineless worm at the end of the hook. Men like Daniel used their perception to catch their quarry. He would use a spear with a barbed tip, piercing and trapping unsuspecting victims. Daniel was a hunter accountable to no-one.
And Choo felt the barb sliding between his ribs.
"I need to go to my mother," he said.
"Proud of you, is she?" Daniel asked.
"Does she know how you make money?" Viper asked.
His cheeks blushed and Choo gave a half smile. He'd started work as a delivery boy when he was fourteen years old. His job came with long hours and his schooling suffered, but his mother called him a provider. He saved and bought his own van. By the time he was eighteen, his mother called him an entrepreneur and spent his wages for him.
"What would you like?" Choo asked.
The bell he'd heard previously rang again. It was muted and came through the walls.
Daniel opened the door of the storeroom to reveal the glimmer of a sweet shop. A fat man with oily hair stood at the counter, his stomach resting on the counter. Two children meandered through the shelves, pointing at the sugar, their smiles as hungry as their eyes.
"You live here now," Daniel said. "In this cupboard."
Choo scanned the tubs on the shelves. The sucrose smell bled through the plastic. His mouth watered and he gulped, fearful he might be ill.
"Okay," he said.
"You'll help Charlie, your new boss, to do whatever he wants you to do," Daniel said.
At the mention of his name, Charlie waved and Choo waved back.
Daniel grabbed Choo by his thin, cotton shirt and lifted him into the air. "There'll be no breaks, no complaining. You'll work and you'll sleep."
"I'll sleep?" Choo asked.
Viper laid a hand on Daniel's arm and Daniel lowered Choo to the ground.
"Are you sure about this?" Viper asked. "He could run the first chance he gets."
Daniel opened the storeroom door wider and pointed through the shop to the pavement outside. Five teenagers peered through the window, vaping pens clouding their glares in smoke.
"Your daughter's gang have agreed to keep an eye on him," Daniel said.
"Hannah should be in school," Viper said.
"Maybe, but I have high hopes for her," Daniel said. "We're going to be partners in Pelaw."
Viper closed his eyes. "I can't stay. I can't stand by and let her ruin her life. I'm leaving, that's all there is to it."
"Spoken like a true father," Daniel said.
With the doors open, the sugary scent was thick in Choo's nostrils. It made him gag and he coughed gently into his hand. "I can't go home?" he asked.
The other men ignored him, continuing to hiss at one another. Choo knew the answer was no.
A customer entered the shop. A young woman with a toddler in tow. The woman looked harassed, her long hair hanging in oily strands. The toddler's eyes were gilded in rapture. He was released and he tottered around the shelves, pulling down packets of sweets and hoarding them in his pudgy arms.
Choo would never see his mother again. She would come to regard him in the same ill manner she saw his father. He hoped not. He hoped she'd regain her independence, become more of the mother he had needed for so long. But if she didn't, her struggle would be a brief one.
The toddler looked in Choo's direction, dropping his stash of goodies. He staggered on the spot, squishing marshmallow flumps underfoot. His face contorted, as if he was about to bawl and Choo quickly smiled. The toddler paused, weighing him up before matching Choo's grin in toothless mimicry.
"I'm free?" Choo asked, sitting straighter in the chair.
"Yes," Daniel said, "but only if – "
Choo finished his sentence for him.
"If I tell you where to find Crash."
Chapter Forty-Three
The car park to the Bull and Cart was unusually empty. Weeds wrapped themselves around discarded cans of beer. A breeze made them dance to the music of passing traffic. The door to the pub was open and the darkness beyond was unwelcoming.
Viper walked away from his motorcycle, his boots grinding on the tarmac. His time with Daniel had taught him a lesson. There was no going back. His mission for some time had been self-flagellation. He'd consorted with people he didn't like and learned things he needed to unlearn.
Viper hoped the universe might see his suffering and reward him with his daughter.
But he'd been wrong.
The smell of stale beer reached him as he stepped inside. The main lights were off, but the neon signs glowed behind the bar, infusing the air with a red wash. The mechanical bull was dead on its side, its horns lowered to the ground.
"Anybody here?" Viper shouted.
"Just me," Simon said from the corner.
Viper jumped. "Why are you sitting in the dark?"
"I'm ruminating."
"Where is everyone else?"
"They're out looking for my wife." Simon stood, the chair scraping on its feet. "I'm worried."
Viper searched the bar, suddenly thirsty. "Perhaps a job came in," he said.
"The Sheriff doesn't go on drug runs anymore," Simon said. "She has staff for that."
"I came here to tell you something," Viper said. "Something you need to know."
Simon tapped a manicured finger nail against his teeth. "Sounds serious."
On the bar was an open can of beer. Viper shook its contents, revealing there was a mouthful of liquid remaining. He downed it in one, wincing at its flat flavour.
"Do you still have it?" Viper asked.
Simon raised a questioning eyebrow.
"The invoice I gave you," Viper continued. "The one I found in the Sheriff's office."
"It's been filed away."
"Where?"
Walking to the rear of the mechanical bull, Simon rolled up the cuffs of his shirt, inserting his arm into a cut serving as an artificial rectum. It had been a joke at the time until Simon found a use for it.
Retrieving his hand, he waved the paper like a flag. "All present and correct."
"Get rid of it," Viper said. "Whatever it is, that invoice has nothing to do with what's going on now."
"How can you be sure?" Simon asked, staring at the crumpled paper.
"Because the Sheriff thought I was behind the kidnappings." Viper adjusted the fringes on his leather jacket. "I'm sorry if I caused you to doubt your wife. The Sheriff isn't involved. I thought if you knew that it might bring you some peace."
Dropping his hands, Viper made a step to the open door. "And there's some
thing else. I'm leaving."
"Something we said?" Simon asked.
He let the invoice fall from his grip. It swam in the air, finding a hidden current and sliding under the toilet door. Simon strolled to the bar and pulled out two bottles of beer, offering one to Viper, who nodded his thanks.
"So the Sheriff is missing?" Viper asked.
"The last I heard she was following you."
Viper struggled to swallow. "Why would she do that?"
Simon peeled his label from the bottle. "She didn't trust you. She didn't know why you were here."
A breeze touched Viper's shoulders and he sensed rather than saw the door behind him. He was leaving. A new life in a new town. He'd decided to learn how to read and write. He'd send a letter to Hannah explaining everything. She'd have moved on herself by then and he didn't know if she'd even receive it, but he had to try.
Viper had failed to save her from her abduction. Maybe he could save her from repeating the same mistakes he'd made.
"Why did you join the Nottinghams?" Simon asked.
"I told you when I found the invoice," Viper said. "I suspected her of running a trafficking outfit."
Simon's knuckles whitened around the neck of his bottle. "I should have gone straight to the Sheriff after what you said."
"If you had, I'd be dead," Viper said, "but you didn't, did you? Because you knew there was something off about her."
"She had a way of hiding things in full view. Making you doubt yourself." Simon ran his fingers through his hair. "Yes, she would have killed you and she might have killed the messenger, too."
Viper finished his beer, placing the empty bottle on the bar. "I didn't agree with her on much, but the Sheriff was right to keep clear of the Daytons. They're preparing to take down the Motorheads. I know if I stay, I'll be dragged into their drama. Who knows if I'd ever get back out again?"
There was no clock in the bar. It kept the punters drinking, but the sunlight from the open door had moved from Viper's left to his right.
"I have to go, Simon. I hope you find your wife."
The sunlight dimmed as a slim silhouette glided into the bar.
Viper raised his hand over his eyes. "Hannah?"
"I followed you from Pelaw." His daughter stepped into the shade, her eyes darkened by smudged mascara. "Daniel said you were leaving."
"It's for the best."
The lump in his throat was like concrete. Viper swallowed repeatedly, but it wouldn't shift.
"I spoke to Mam, too," Hannah said. "Why did you both lie about the birthday cards?"
"It was the only way I could be close to you."
Hannah traced her boot in a line across the floor. "I got rid of them. The cards. Said I was glad you weren't around. I should have been told the truth then."
"You were going through a difficult time," Viper said. "Apparently, it was a rebellious phase. Lord knows where you got that from."
Viper wasn't sure, but he thought he saw the flicker of a smile.
"I wasn't there for you, Hannah," he continued, "and we didn't want to add to the pressures of growing up. I wanted you to have a good start in life. The same as any parent."
Hannah smoothed down her fringe with shaking fingertips. "But I'm grown up now."
"What about your gang?" Viper asked.
"They'll be okay on their own," Hannah said. "They've got Daniel. He'll look after them."
They stood staring at each other. Viper listened to the thud of his heart.
"So what are you saying?" he asked.
"There's nothing here for me," Hannah said. "If I stay, I'll end up in prison or worse, but…"
"But if you come with me…" Viper said, failing to finish his sentence too.
Hannah pushed the door wider, allowing sunlight to flood the room. "I might find out you're a total tool and going with you was a big mistake, but…have you got room for one more?"
Viper grinned, a joyous firework exploding in his chest at the same time as a beer bottle exploded against his head. He staggered forward, broken glass dripping from his hair. The bottle had come from the direction of the bar and Viper turned to face it.
Simon's white face burned red in the neon glow, his eyes compressed to slits.
In his hand was a pistol.
"What a beautiful scene," Simon said. "Honestly, I'm touched."
Viper's eyes went to the weapon. "What's going on?"
"I know it was you," Simon said. "I know you killed my wife."
A shiver ran across Viper's skin. "I can explain."
"When you walked through that door, I thought it was an act of contrition. I thought you were here to beg for forgiveness, but you're still the same old snake. You killed the Sheriff. That's the real reason you're back on the run."
Viper's hand went to his tattoo. Pulling his fingers away, he found them damp with blood trickling from his scalp. "It was an accident," he said. "I only wanted to talk."
"I got a call from the owner of the skatepark. The Sheriff followed you in and never came back out." Simon raised the pistol, sliding his finger over the trigger. "You had to get rid of her before she found out you were looking into her history."
"What's going on, Dad?" Hannah asked from the doorway.
It was the second time Hannah had called him Dad, but it was sweeter this time because she meant it. The word rolled around his head, cushioning his fear. They were about to take a journey together as father and daughter. He didn't know where they'd end up or whether they'd still be together when they got there.
But for once, Viper was finished with being a failure.
"Leave her out of this," he said to Simon.
The gun didn't waver.
"Do you love her?" Simon asked.
The lump in Viper's throat dropped into his churning stomach. "She's just some waif I picked up. She's nothing to do with me."
"You don't have to lie," Simon said. "I can see what she means to you."
"She's a stupid kid I'm trying to get rid of."
Simon slowly shook his head left and right, his eyes boring into Viper's. "You love her as much as I loved my wife. You took that love from me. Now there's nothing left but to return the favour."
Viper held up his hands. "Please."
"I always wondered how it might feel to kill a man in hate," Simon said, his voice catching.
The shot rang out around the Bull and Cart pub. A force, similar to a heavy punch, slammed into Viper's heart. He was lifted from the floor, barely registering it when he landed. His eyes rolled around his head and Viper forced them to focus on the wound in his chest. He struggled to breathe as his body grew ice cold.
There was a scream. Hannah's scream.
He'd been a terrible father and a terrible man. His efforts at reconciliation had been futile. Nothing had gone to plan and he was dying inches from what he wanted most in the world.
His heart was a dead weight, his shirt like a red bib and the room sank into darkness.
As his eyelids flickered closed, he heard another scream. His daughter again.
And then came a gunshot.
Chapter Forty-Four
Crash had been patient. He'd bided his time, watching silently as his victims were stripped down to their bones. They were broken, twisted into slavering pet dogs. He used them to fulfil contract work with business owners desperate to cut corners. Weeding out trouble makers kept his own business profitable.
"Is this some sort of joke?" Karin asked.
But this girl was different. He'd let her off her lead for too long.
The other teenagers trembled on the floor. Karin remained standing. She was trembling too, but not from fear.
"I thought you were my friend," Karin said. "You lied to me."
The guards lingered in the doorway, their lips moist in anticipation.
"Sit," Crash said.
Karin looked to the chair, to the blood on the headrest and backed away.
Crash reached into his shredded pyjamas to a secret p
ocket. He pulled out a motorcycle chain he'd fastened to a wooden handle. "Don't disobey me."
"I thought you were one of us," Karin said, standing behind the chair.
There was a knock on the door and Adrian stepped inside. He glanced at Karin and looked to the floor. He was wearing a sheepskin coat.
Crash rattled the motorcycle chain. "Bring the buckets in. I want to be able to use this room after I'm done here."
Adrian had been working for Crash long before he'd realised it. His need to survive, his cowardice, made him the perfect patsy. Adrian passed whispered secrets to the guards, who fed them back to Crash. It was a fool proof system maintaining Crash's control, until the girl turned up.
"Why do you need the buckets?" Adrian asked. "Hurting her will bring too much attention."
"You know why," Crash said. "You were the one who told us who was obeying, who was planning an escape. You put these kids in the chair as much as I did."
Crash shot him a look and Adrian scurried into the warehouse.
"Where's Choo?" Karin asked.
"He was abducted," Crash said.
The teenagers stirred at Karin's laughter. They had the audacity to look in Crash's direction until he stared back.
Crash shook the chain, making it sound like a rattlesnake. "He was making deliveries one night and accidentally knocked me off my mother's bike." He waved his severed arm in the air. "He did this to me and he is easily replaced."
"And the other two?" Karin said, pointing at the guards.
"Hired hands," Crash said. "They're just people who like hurting people. Now stop trying to buy time. Get in the chair please."
Karin edged closer to the older woman. Crash knew she was called Liz Dayton. She'd screamed it in his face when they'd first met, as if that was supposed to mean something. He was glad she was there to witness the proceeding mess. Liz looked like a fighter and it would steal some of that out of her.
"Why would I get in the chair?" Karin asked.
Crash shook the chain again. "Because if I hit you with this, it will leave a ragged wound. It will probably get infected. When it's time for you to be released, you'll be too far gone. You'll die on the journey home."
"You don't let people go," Karin said. "You never let Rachel or any of the others go. You kill them."