by Casey, Ryan
And then he nodded at them and fought that longing to be with a group, that longing to connect.
“Good luck,” Mick said.
Noah turned around.
Faced the road ahead.
Faced west and took a deep breath.
It was time to find the bastards who’d taken Jane.
And it was time to make them suffer for what they’d done.
Chapter Thirty
Eddie heard the baby start to cry and opened his eyes.
It was pitch black. He must’ve slept an hour or two, tops. He rolled over. Let out a yawn. Sometimes in the night, he’d curl up against his pillow and pretend someone was beside him. Stupid, he knew.
But there was nobody beside him.
He was on his own.
He got out of bed. Brushed back his hair. He and Kelly had agreed to a rota of seeing to the baby—who they still hadn’t actually named yet. He knew it sounded mad. It’d been three days. But there was still something unreal about it all. Like they didn’t want to bond too much with the kid yet. They didn’t want to get attached before they reached somewhere… well, safe.
Only then could they move forward. Only then could they relax.
And only then could this child’s life truly begin.
He walked across his room over towards Kelly’s door. He always felt weird going in there in the night. Sometimes he wanted to climb in bed with her. Just lie there, beside her. Nothing creepy. Just that human connection.
And Kelly’s connection in particular. That meant a lot to him.
He pushed the bedroom door open. Heard it creak. Tried to keep it quiet even though he knew there was no chance of that.
Kelly lay there, fast asleep still, somehow. Or pretending at least. She must be exhausted after the last few days. It had to take it out of someone.
He stood there a few seconds. Stared at Kelly. Watched her breathing rise and fall, rise and fall.
And he felt a bitter wave of sadness deep within his chest.
He wanted to climb in bed with her.
He wanted to wrap his arms around her.
He wanted to touch her smooth skin, kiss her soft neck, and…
No! Don’t think those thoughts, you creep. Don’t you dare think those thoughts.
Don’t be what they want you to be.
Don’t be what they believe you are.
Eddie walked to the foot of the bed and looked down at this little boy. Lying there with his dark hair, face scrunched up, crying.
“It’s okay,” Eddie said, reaching in and holding the baby like a hot potato. “Don’t you worry. It’s okay, little man.”
He walked him out of the bedroom. Headed downstairs. The baby just kept on crying. Kept on screeching, so damned loud, his ears felt like they were going to burst.
But he just kept on quietening him.
Kept on shaking him, side to side, trying to soothe him, trying to calm him, as unnatural and unreal as this felt.
As wrong as it felt.
He walked over to the back door. Closed it, clicked it shut. Walked out into the cool garden, still bobbing the baby up and down, still trying to quieten him.
And he wondered right there and then whether he was cut out for this. Because this baby. It didn’t feel like his. Kelly said he was the father, and she was nice to him. But he got the sense that it was a mistake and a mistake that he couldn’t be there for. Because he wasn’t capable enough. He wasn’t strong enough.
“Ssh, little man. Settle yourself. Please.”
But the baby just kept on crying.
Ringing in Eddie’s ears.
Pain in his skull.
Tiredness and stress and anger and exhaustion and everything all building up.
He clenched his eyes together and thought of Noah. His best friend, returning. A moment where he’d felt happy. Where he’d felt light. Where he’d felt things could truly work between them again.
And then he’d gone.
He’d just left Eddie alone here.
Like he was too good for him.
Like he was fucking better than him.
And wasn’t that how Noah had always been, really?
Wasn’t that the kind of guy he was when he really looked at the facts, deep down?
He was all happy to have Eddie by his side when he needed him.
But when he didn’t, it was on his own way.
It was—
Another scream from the baby.
And then Anwar came to mind.
Not Sunil, but Anwar.
Or maybe both of them.
Making love to Kelly.
Together.
Sickness in the pit of his stomach.
Kneeling both of them down before him, begging as he lifted a gun and fired at their skulls and—
“Can you just shut up?!”
He looked at the baby held out in front of him, and a deep shame filled his body. The baby didn’t stop crying. Of course, it didn’t. If anything, it was crying even louder now.
And it was his fault.
His fault for snapping like this.
His fault for being a bad guy.
He’d convinced himself he was strong. That he could be a hero. That he could be a better man and not the pathetic man-child he’d been all of his twenties.
But that wasn’t true.
And he saw flashes of it in his anger, right then.
And in his jealousy, too.
His jealousy about Kelly.
His jealousy about—
“Having trouble, pal?”
Eddie jumped and spun around.
Sunil stood at the back door. That ever-present smile on his face.
Eddie lowered his head as the baby kept on crying. “I’m just settling him down.”
“Yeah,” Sunil said. “Sounds like it.”
He walked over to Eddie. Stood right in front of him.
“Want me to give it a go?”
Eddie frowned. “I… He’s my baby.”
“I’m not saying he isn’t. I’m just asking you if you want me to give it a go?”
“He—He’s okay. He’s—”
“Eddie, pal. I’m asking you if you want my help. Nothing more.”
Eddie felt torn. On the one hand, he didn’t want to hand his baby over to Sunil, a guy he didn’t trust.
On the other… he knew he was fighting a losing battle.
He just wanted to get the kid to sleep.
“Well, good luck,” Eddie said, handing the small bundle of life over. “But I’ve been trying for the last ten minutes, and I can’t…”
Sunil started singing lightly to the baby, then. A song Eddie’s mum used to sing to him when he was struggling to sleep. He looked into the baby’s eyes. Held him close to his muscular chest. And he was at one with the kid, then. He was united with him. Totally present with him.
But the kid was still crying. Something Eddie felt ashamed to say he was happy about.
“Told you,” Eddie said. “He’s just not settling. He’s…”
And then something remarkable happened.
The baby—Eddie’s baby—started to settle.
His cries lessened.
Until they were just coos.
And then until they were nothing.
Nothing but sleep.
Sunil stood there. Rocking Eddie’s baby. Holding him in his arms.
Still so present with him.
So natural looking.
And Eddie felt a void open inside.
He felt it deep within.
A uselessness.
A great uselessness he’d always feared was there. A uselessness and worthlessness that always came back to bite him, to haunt him, time and time again.
A uselessness that told him he couldn’t mask his pathetic nature, no matter how hard he fought, how much he tried.
“I’ll take him back,” Sunil said. “Saves you waking him. Right?”
Eddie’s hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
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He wanted to argue.
To lambast Sunil.
But in the end, he was just out of fight.
He nodded.
Watched Sunil step back inside the house.
Followed closely behind until he reached the top of the stairs.
He watched Sunil enter Kelly’s room.
Heard him set the baby down.
And he waited there a while. A long while.
He didn’t see Sunil leave Kelly’s room again that night.
The mother, the child, and the man who knew how to look after the kid.
And outside the room, tearful and pathetic, Eddie.
Useless Eddie.
Obsessive creep Eddie.
Outcast, all over again.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jane had no idea how long she was locked away in that cold, dark shipping container when the doors finally opened, and light burned against her tired eyes.
She was starving. Exhausted. She hadn’t eaten for days. She was hungry, and she was wasting away. But at the same time, she knew any food would just make her throw up right now. She’d barely had any water. She’d drank a little of her piss, which she’d been forced to crane her neck down to reach, and thrown that right back up, too. In the day, when it was warm outside, this container was warm—stiflingly hot as it burned in the sun. But at night, it was icy cold. There was a nasty smell in here of rot. Someone had died, that much was clear.
But the worst thing about it all was that Jane just wanted one thing.
One thing.
And it was the very thing that was worst for her.
She looked at the track marks in her arms. It’d been hours, days maybe now. She shivered. Sweated. The smell of vomit clung to her. Her insides felt like razor blades were scratching around them. She knew she had to ride it out. She knew she had to fight the cravings. She knew she had to just get through this, and then she would be okay; she would fight through this, and she would fight on. Because she was stronger off the heroin than she was on it. There was no good to come from that drug. No good at all.
And yet she wanted that escape, that bliss, more than anything in the world right now.
Even though it was so, so bad for her.
So when she saw those doors open up, when she saw the light fill this container, a smile crept up her face. She felt like an animal. A feral animal who was starving away, as the silhouetted man walked in there, walked over towards her.
“Come on, you,” he said. “Time to take you for a little walk.”
She frowned. Because this wasn’t normal. She hadn’t left this place for… well, however long it was she’d been locked up here.
But now they were uncuffing her. Dragging her to her feet. And then easing her across the damp, sticky floor of the container, over towards the door, towards the light.
She looked back. Saw the horror in the eyes of some of the women in here with her. A few of whom had been taken away. Some of whom had come back. Others hadn’t.
She didn’t know what lay ahead for her.
Only that she was afraid.
She stepped outside with her sore, bare feet. Got a proper look around the place, as much as the sun and the starvation and the dehydration affected her perception. A few shipping containers, just like the one she was in. The smell of the sea in the air, reminding her of childhood trips to Blackpool, walking along the promenade. Seagulls cawing, swooping down.
If she could just focus on those enough, she would be okay. She would be at peace. She would—
And then she saw a crowd. A crowd of about forty, fifty people. All men. All standing in this big circle.
And in the middle of the circle, there was another woman.
She was beaten. Bruised. Half of her long, blonde hair had been torn from her skull. Her lips were bust and swollen. She looked pale, and she was naked.
It was only then that Jane realised she was naked, too. She’d lost all sense of what she was and wasn’t wearing. She saw these men—bearded, long-haired, rough-looking, and armed—all looking at her. Some of them scanning her with disgust but interest at the same time, too. Some of them spitting at her.
“Come on, now,” the bulky ginger man behind her said, pushing her to her knees, which cut on contact with the earth. “Let’s show our lovely ladies their prize, hmm? And then we’ll start taking bets. How’s that sound?”
A roar from the crowd. Claps all around.
The ginger guy smiled. Walked to the middle of the circle. And then he laid something down. A box. Like a cooler box.
And then he opened it up.
“Behold,” he said. “Your prize, ladies.”
Jane’s eyes widened right away.
It wasn’t the food she saw most. The fresh meat, and the luscious berries.
It wasn’t the bottle of water, so cold it dripped condensation.
It was the fresh needle.
The bag of heroin by its side.
Instinctively, she lunged forward.
And so too did the woman opposite.
But the men behind them held them both back.
The ginger man smiled as he locked that box. “Animals, the pair of you, hmm. Now let’s set a few clear rules here, okay? The box is yours to do what you want with and enjoy. All you’ve gotta do? Kill the other one. Simple. Bam!”
A sudden jab of pain and fear filled Jane’s chest. She saw the horror in the woman opposite’s wide eyes, too. Or was it fear at all? She didn’t know. And that scared her even more.
She couldn’t kill for this. It wasn’t worth it.
But she heard the roar of the crowd.
Saw people rushing to a little booth by the side of the circle to place bets.
And she saw that box in front of her, that one chance of nourishment, or relief… and of survival.
And then the woman opposite her.
“If neither of you kills the other,” the ginger man said. “Well ain’t that just a crying shame? We’ll just have to make damned sure we kill you both. No biggie. Got enough of you to spare. And more flowing in by the day, hmm?”
He smirked with those big yellow teeth.
And then he lifted a whistle to his bearded lips.
“Let the games… begin.”
He whistled.
The crowd clapped and roared.
Jane’s instinct was to turn away. To try and push her way out of the crowd, through the men.
But every time she saw a gap, they plugged it.
They pushed her back.
Knocked her to the ground, banging her head against the solid earth.
She got up. Looked around. Saw the woman opposite approaching the box. Crouching down, right beside it. Staring at it, wide eyed. Track marks on her arms and legs, too.
Jane walked over to her. Shaking. Weak. “Please,” she said. “We don’t have to do this. We don’t have to play by their rules. We can get out of this. We—we can—”
It all happened so fast.
The woman lifted the box and smacked it against Jane’s head.
Jane fell back.
Hit the ground, bit her tongue, and tasted blood.
She lay there, dizzy, head spinning.
Peered up into the sky above, trying to push herself back up, trying to—
The woman appeared above her again.
Cracked that big blue box right against her forehead.
Shouts from the crowd. A chorus of “oohs!”
Claps.
Laughs.
Winces.
This woman pinning Jane down. A feral, wild look in her eyes.
And another crack from that heavy blue plastic box.
And another.
Jane’s vision was almost totally gone. Her teeth were loose. Her throat clogged up with blood.
The woman looked down at her. Right into her eyes.
And then she wrapped her hands around Jane’s throat.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But my daughter. I need to live. For my�
�my daughter. I’m so sorry.”
Jane shook. Twisted. Gasped and gargled for breath.
Pathetically grabbed at the woman’s arms, but with no luck.
She lay back as her vision clouded.
As fear took over.
As everything drifted away.
And then she felt the solid stone between her fingertips.
She reached for it.
Stretched, just a little further.
And then, with the last of her energy, she swung it towards the woman’s temple and cracked it against her skull as hard as she could.
The woman’s hands weakened.
Her eyes widened.
Blood trickled down the side of her head.
And Jane knew she couldn’t let up, now.
She smacked the woman again.
Knocked her off her.
Winces from the crowd.
Gasps of surprise.
Of amazement.
Totally hooked.
Totally engrossed.
She punched the woman in the stomach.
And then she spun over on top of her.
Pinned her down as the woman kicked and shook and shouted out.
“Please! Please!”
But Jane just looked up into the ginger man’s eyes.
As she moved her thumbs over to this woman’s eyes.
Her long fingernails, right against her eyeballs.
The woman screaming as she pressed down.
Deep.
Hard.
Shaking.
Kicking.
Screaming.
Jane didn’t stop staring at that ginger man as she pushed down into this woman’s skull.
She didn’t stop looking at him as the tears rolled down her own cheeks.
She didn’t stop until the woman went still, and she had to be physically dragged off her.
The ginger man checked the woman’s pulse. Jane couldn’t look at her. She couldn’t look at her own blood-soaked hands or thumbs.
She couldn’t look anywhere but up into the sky.
The ginger man blew his whistle.
Pointed theatrically to Jane.
“Looks like we have ourselves a new champion!” he said.
Some of the crowd tutted, rolled their eyes, clearly losing their bets.
A smaller bunch clapped. Cheered.
All of them looked at her differently now.
Like she was more than just a piece of meat.
Like they respected her.