The Manx Cat Guardians Boxed Set

by J P Sayle

  Joe shook off his thoughts, resigning himself to the fact he couldn’t fix it. He could move forward, and let go of the shit with Joel so he could show Stuart his real feelings. He sat up straighter, he could do this, no, he would do it, in fact he would waltz right over there now and tell Stuart how he felt.

  His mind made up, Joe gingerly transferred Max back on to the other chair, careful not to drop him down. Worried the other chair would collapse at any minute under his sheer size. He sighed in relief before he could stop it. Joe gave Max a reassuring pat on his head as he moved away. It was only then he noticed Aaden wasn’t in the room any longer. Joe’s brows furrowed, when had he left? He really must have been out of it to miss that.

  He headed to the bottom of the stairs listening, trying to figure out where he’d gone. Shouting up the stairs, “Hey, man, I’m just going to head back over and talk to Stuart. I have a few things I need to say to him in private. So if you could give us about thirty minutes I’d be grateful.” Joe hesitated, when he got no response, he assumed Aaden was maybe using the bathroom. Positive he would have heard him in the empty house he headed for the door.

  A loud bellow from above was followed by a deafening growl from the living room, freezing Joe in place. “What on earth was that for, dear God you two are going to make me deaf. I’m sure my ears are ringing.” Joe tentatively touched his ears, realising his head was pounding. It was only made worse when Aaden’s size twelve feet thundered down the bare wooden stairs, the noise echoing throughout the house. Followed by loud creaking seconds before Max’s large frame sprinted past his legs towards the door.

  The animalistic snarl Aaden gave him as he pushed past had goosebumps rising up, causing a shiver to run up Joe’s body. Hesitating for a second, Joe tried to figure out what was going on, watching Aaden fly out the door closely followed by Max.

  His mind eventually acknowledged something was very wrong, thoughts flew instantly to Stuart. His heart simply stopped beating at the possibilities.

  “Oh Christ. Stuart!”

  His jumbled mind had his heart kick-starting, making it pound so fast his chest ached. Fear ate at his rationality, stealing his breath, gasping when his lungs struggled to pull in enough air. His legs no match for Aaden’s long strides as he chased after him.

  Aaden hit the path to Stuart’s home seconds before him. His mind barely registering the speed at which Max was moving to keep time with Aaden. His gaze never wavered from Stuart’s door which hung open. His arms pumped, fists clenched, as he leapt the last few steps up the path, prepared to fight.

  He felt the emptiness of the house immediately, moaning in despair why, why, why, did I leave Stuart on his own? Joe caught Aaden and Max moving to the bottom of the stairs. His blood turned cold at the sight of Princess’s lifeless body.

  Dropping to his knees, “Oh dear God, is she dead, look at all that blood, dear Christ what caused this?” Joe’s stomach churned, bile burned the back of his throat, swallowing he prayed he wouldn’t be ill. The strong odour of congealed blood was overwhelming his senses. Having never been a fan of blood he fought against his weak stomach.

  The dark stains on the wooden floor painted a grim picture. What the hell had happened here and where was Stuart? Princess’s motionless body had him trying to focus past his worries for Stuart. Joe ignored the tears falling unaided dripping down his face on to the floor. Searching for anything he could use to help, his mind raced, he swiped at the tears when he saw them mix with the blood, making it run.

  Shuddering in disgust, he struggled to think. They needed a vet, he was sure Brad had given him information for one.

  He remembered Brad’s laughter as he’d spoken. “You won’t need this as Princess hates the vets, and I do mean hate. I think that’s what keeps her healthy. Anyway, it’s a just an ‘in case thing’, cause I like to cover every eventualities where Princess is concerned. She is my baby.” Brad’s chuckled words had him wanting to hide away.

  How the hell was he going to explain this to Brad, never mind if she died? Fuck, he’d never forgive him.

  Joe endeavoured to not let the panic get a grip. He pushed thoughts of Brad away for now, ignoring the revulsion that sat inside his chest. Rising quickly, “Brad gave me information on Princess’s vet. I think he runs an emergency service. Well, I hope he does, otherwise he’s going to get a rude awakening.”

  Joe rushed to find his phone. His fingers shook as he dialled the number. It seemed to ring endlessly before a crabby voice croaked through the phone asking what his emergency was, he explained as best as he could.

  Joe spoke while watching Max and Aaden focus on Princess. Aaden moved his large hands slowly across her tiny body.

  It took a few second to realise Aaden had spoken. “She has a bullet lodged in her abdomen.”

  The low husky words barely penetrated as the word bullet lodged firmly in Joe’s brain.

  Joe felt his words stick in his throat, looking down at Aaden. “A bullet?” He hardly recognised his wooden voice, the stiff words sounding so unlike him.

  Aaden’s decisive nod his only response. The voice on the other end of the phone explained what they needed to do and where they needed to go. Relaying the information, his mind still fixated on that one word, “bullet.”

  Aaden’s sharp tone had him focusing, but the chill he’d felt earlier was taking a firm hold, limbs shook and made his teeth chatter. The seriousness of their situation confirming it could only be Joel. There was no way Stuart would have gone out without letting him know, fuck, as much as he bitched about Princess, he would never willingly leave her to bleed to death. The thought had his breath hitching. Joe concentrated on not thinking about how unwillingly Stuart would have been about leaving or what Joel was or would do to him.

  His earlier worries of being watched gave little solace. Why had he gone after Stuart and Princess, why not him? Worrying his lip, he went to get the blanket Aaden had requested. He searched the house even though he knew it was futile, the quiet didn’t lie. Running back once he found no other signs of a struggle or blood.

  “Here you go, Stuart isn’t here.” His reaffirming words had the reality hitting home. Trembling, his eyes begged Aaden to make it better.

  Aaden’s warm hand grabbed hold of his. “He’s alive, don’t ask how I know, but he is. You have my word. Joel is going to pay for this, this time it ends, and you won’t stop me.” Aaden’s menacing intent caused Joe’s body to freeze.

  He had to remind himself of his earlier regret at stopping Aaden the first time. He knew there would be no leniency this time. He just prayed to God that he didn’t have to witness whatever happened this time. The waking nightmares Joel’s screams had given him still haunted him.

  Joe resigned himself that if Joel harmed even one hair on Stuart’s head, he’d not only help Aaden, but he would do it willingly, regardless of what Aaden might do to Joel. This time it was different, this time he had the love of his life, his soul mate and that, Joe realised, changed everything.

  Drawing in a breath, he took Princess from Aaden, feeling the slight movement of her chest rising. Taking that as a positive sign, they headed out. The journey a blur as Aaden raced down near-deserted streets. The engine barely stopped as he jumped out, coming to get Princess, Max right there with him. Following suit, he raced behind him, listening to him talk confidently to the dishevelled vet.

  Christ, I hope he knows what he’s doing. Eyeing him up, he looked closer at his trousers, was that shit stuck to the side of his leg? Trying not to be conspicuous, he moved a little closer and sniffed, turning his nose up at the whiff of manure. Seeing his face, the vet gave him a friendly smile.

  “I know what I’m doing. I can assure you I’ve been looking after Princess a long time. Though, she has never been shot before, this is a first.”

  The vet shuffled into the back of what appeared to be a well-stocked theatre. “You’ll have to wait outside, the rest of the team are on their way. I’ve been stuck out at a farm with a
tricky birthing cow. Hence why I stink like a cow pat.”

  His warm chuckle and kind smiling eyes made Joe feel like an errant child, as if the vet knew what his thoughts were.

  Shooed out of the room, the door was firmly shut in their faces. Joe heaved a sigh of distress, moving to sit on the uncomfortable plastic chairs that seemed to be in all the waiting rooms he’d ever visited. Glancing about, he spied the obligatory years old magazines too. “Do you think that the people who create waiting rooms, all get together designing them in stepford type of way cause it’s a place people have no choice but to visit?” Joe was distracted when Aaden let out a little chuckle, breaking the tension.

  “I have no fucking clue, but then I have no fucking clue where you come up with these questions, either, man. Martin used to warn me about you and your never ending endless questions. Though, I must say, this one has to sit up there with the most random.”

  Joe sat next to him the plastic chair, making it squeak had both of them chuckling when it sounded reminiscent of a fart machine.

  Aaden’s large hands gripped his, stopping him from worrying the seam of his jumper. Only noticing the hole that was growing where he’d pulled at the threads.

  “What do you think he’ll do to him, Aaden?” His voice cracking but the question seemed to need to be voiced. Images of what Joel had previously done to him had plagued him on the car journey here.

  He hadn’t even looked at the time. How long had he had him? Was he still alive? That was the hardest question to ask, frightened of what Aaden would say. Joe’s earlier conviction at Aaden’s words were now gone. How could he know for sure he was still alive?

  Jumping up, he shrugged off Aaden’s hold, needing to move.

  “Are we going to involve the police, Aaden? If so, we need to do it now, it can’t wait.” Nerves had Joe’s hands trembling but he pushed them aside, he had to do something, fuck, anything.

  He gave Aaden a pleading look.

  “Yes, Joe, we need to ring the police, but you have to remember they will class this as a missing person and he hasn’t been gone for twenty four hours.” Aaden held up his hands halting him. “I know we have a cat with a bullet wound. But they will argue a kid could have borrowed his father’s gun, messing around, they shot her by accident and she then managed to drag herself home.” The pity he could hear hammered at Joe’s self-control.

  The reality of his words had him seeing the truth. Blinking back the tears, imploring Aaden to make it better, to give him back Stuart whole and in one piece. The scorching intensity on Aaden’s face offered some assurance but he knew deep down that every minute Joel had Stuart, the unharmed part was reducing.

  Stuart

  Stuart tried to get his mind to focus, on what, he wasn’t sure, it seemed impossible when the fussy grey coating his world wouldn’t lift. His eyelids felt like fifty pound bags had been placed on his face making it excruciatingly hard for them to open. He lay still, hoping that would help with the bizarre way he was feeling. He tried to push past the groggy feeling to recall what he’d been doing to feel this shity. Gingerly moving his head, the scrape of a hard surface beneath his hair had him attempting to lift up.

  “Arghhhhhhhhhh oh…. my…. fucking…. God,” panting, Stuart tried to force his mind to think past the pain covering his mind in black spots of emptiness. Why can’t I move my limbs? What the hell happened to me? Where the fuck am I?

  Gasping past the burning panic in his throat, Stuart struggled to move his limbs. Pain radiated throughout his whole body as his mind screamed to be set free. His sweat soaked T-shirt stuck to his back due to the hard unyielding surface he was trapped against, building his terror. His pounding head felt like it would burst open at any minute to relieve the pressure from his racing pulse banging against his ears. Stuart struggled to swallow the burning nausea that was choking of his air supply.

  Grunting and coughing, Stuart felt tears leak on to his frozen skin, warming it for a second before they fell into his hair. Struggling to pull in air into his screaming lungs, his befuddled brain searched for answers, anything that would help him understand the cloying terror seizing him. The pounding in his head increased tenfold, adding to the torture he was only just starting to comprehend. His strangled breath burned his chest while a name hit like a ton of bricks knocking him for six, his whole body juddered in horror, Joel.

  Joel, the one name ground through the clouds in his mind chasing away the grey, only now he wished it would come back, take away the reality. Stuart froze when another more urgent thought exploded in his mind. His body strained to keep quiet and listen for anything that would tell him if Joel was there somewhere, hiding in the dark.

  His eyelids struggled to obey his command and open to see where he was. The effort made his eyes stream, blurring the total darkness that shrouded his surroundings. A whimper escaped before he could suck it in, the urge to shout made him bite his lip.

  Stuart fought to believe what was happening. Grief so sudden, hit like a freight train crushing him, allowing his rioting mind to take hold. Princess, oh my God he’d shot Princess while she had tried to save me. Sobs shook his trapped limbs, uncaring of the pain; Stuart let his grief pour out.

  He strained to grasp what had happened after the blow to his head. Had anyone seen what had happened? “Oh God, what about Joe? Is he okay?” Stuart cried out in frustration when he couldn’t answer his own questions. His blank mind, giving away nothing, added to the torment.

  Stuart felt the hysteria bubble up wanting to take hold and drive him straight into crazy town, where his mind could party with all the other wild ideas forming against his will. Stuart willed himself to calm, to allow his brain to function. Think for fuck sake, come on think.

  Stuart’s slitted eyes roamed the room, it took him a minute to comprehend that they had adjusted to the darkness and were able to see shadows. Taking his mind off his crazy thoughts, Stuart made a concerted effort to calm his frantic breathing and focus on what was around him.

  Where the fuck was he that there was so little noise? Well, with the exception of the wind, and as the island was always bloody windy, how that was going to help him was anybody’s business. His inane thoughts had a hysterical chuckle creep out past his gritted lips.

  Clenching his jaw tightly, Stuart refocused his efforts on the room and what he was lying on. Using his fingers, he scrabbled at the edge, feeling along the roughened surface, wood, it’s wood. Okay, sharp wooden edges are my friend, right? Stuart ignored the negative terror wanting to tell him he was being ridiculous. Shaking his head, trying to empty out the crap that was trying to take over, instead he tried to recall Bear Grylls’ survival programmes having watched them with such avid interest.

  A memory niggled at the back of his mind about fraying rope. Curling his fingers into his palm he tried to feel up the inside of his wrists, figuring out where the end of the knot was. Exploring the thickness, the plastic coating, and the quarter inch rope buoyed his spirits. How hard could it be to fray such thin binding?

  He worked at the rope, ensuring it rubbed against the sharpness. Concentrating solely on what he was doing, he battled to think past the pain as the wood cut his tender skin. Sweat beaded his brow, sliding down his forehead with the effort. Stuart felt the plastic coated rope slide against his torn bloody skin, the movement adding to the pain, making him struggle to keep going.

  Unsure how long he had been at it, Stuart curled his finger up to check the feel of the rope. Feeling a tiny amount of jaggedness to the previous smooth surface showing how slow his progress was, he puffed out his cheeks in frustration. The warm breath had goosebumps rising on his cold, sweat-slicked bare arms. Ignoring the chills, he worked feverishly. He was convinced he felt the ropes loosening, pushing him to continue past the aching and tiredness that was making his arms heavy.

  Stuart felt the trembles wrack his body, his bleary mind not sure whether it was tiredness or the wind that was rattling against the windows seeping in past the cracks. H
is thin soaked T-shirt no barrier, it all just added to his abject misery. The urge to give in and sleep battled with the need to escape what was coming. Stuart heaved at the thought of what Joel could do, the bile burnt his nose. Coughing as he gulped back the vomit that threatened to choke him. Exhaling past the weight of the dread inside his chest, he bit his lip hard trying to contain the screams building inside him.

  Stealing himself, he made a valiant effort to push it back, gulping in large gasps of air. “I can’t give up, I can’t. Joe is out there now, looking for me and I need to be ready for him. You hear me, Joe? I’m waiting for you.” Stuart couldn’t stop the words as he spoke to the empty room, he pretended not to hear the terror or his own lack of conviction. He clung to the hope somehow Joe or Aaden would find him and stop this torment.

  Stuart sniffed up, forcibly trying to prevent his snotty nose from running over his lip. The smell that greeted him had him balking. Underlying damp mildew mixed with something rather repugnant that reminded him of stagnant milk. Taking short shallow breaths he tried to let his mind drift as he went back to his monotonous movements that seemed to drag on endlessly.

  He worked his bleeding arms tirelessly, watching the first hint of light creep around the edges of the boarded up windows. His dulled mind calculating hours must have passed since Joel had taken him. The thought had waves of dizziness rocking through his exhausted body while he struggled to swallow past his dried throat. Stuart willed his eyelids to stay open even as they drifted half shut, begging him for just a minute’s reprieve.

  His heavy-lidded eyes shot open, wheeling to the window at the sound of an engine in the distance. Stuart sobbed, squeezing past the heavy dread that sat on his chest, making it impossible to breathe through the terror of what was coming. His tired mind wanting only to run and hide, but his body taunted him for his own stupidity for unwittingly using all of his energy. Leaving him like a sitting duck waiting to be blown out of the water at any minute.