by Casey, Ryan
She turned around, note still in hand, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He’s gone. Eddie. Eddie’s gone.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Eddie walked off into the darkness and tried to squint through his tears.
He didn’t know where he was going. No idea where he was heading. Just that he had to get away from Kelly. He had to get away from that house. From the baby.
Not because he was abandoning them. It wasn’t like that. He loved Kelly. He loved the baby. More than anyone would ever know.
But because he wasn’t good enough for them.
For either of them.
His jaw shook. Salty tears covered his lips. He walked into the night, and he sobbed. He felt so tired. So exhausted. He’d sat up outside his room all night and stared at that bedroom door. Kelly’s bedroom door. Sunil in there too. The baby in there, too. And he’d seen them as a family. A happy family. He’d seen just how good Sunil was with the baby, after all. He’d seen how natural he was. And how the baby had responded to Sunil, too.
It hurt Eddie. He knew it was selfish, but he wasn’t an idiot. He could see what was happening here. He was being pushed away. They didn’t need him around. Things would just get confusing for the kid. Tensions would get high. It wasn’t healthy.
Sunil would be a far better father than he ever could be.
He wiped his eyes. Crying felt good. He’d had these tears pent up inside for so long now. It just felt like a relief to get them out. Release.
He knew it was selfish. He knew it was mopey. But he was hurting deep inside. He’d had visions of how he wanted to live his life. And that night with Kelly—that one fleeting night, nine months ago—had been the most perfect, beautiful moment of his fucked up adult life to date.
But he’d got too invested in that moment. He’d put too much credence in it. Because all it was? A fleeting moment for Kelly. She was horny. She was stressed. And she pitied him.
It was never supposed to be anything more than a favour. For her. And for Eddie.
But she had no idea how deep his feelings ran for her.
And was that her fault, really?
Could she really be blamed for not feeling as into him as he was into her?
Because sure. He’d done some pretty mad stuff. Heroic stuff, some would say.
But he was still Eddie.
Fat boy Eddie.
Loser Eddie.
Virgin Eddie.
A one-night stand with a girl who pitied you didn’t change who you really were.
He stopped walking. Sat in the middle of the road. The world his oyster. He looked ahead at the rising sun in the distance. Imagined Kelly waking up. Having morning sex with Sunil. Feeding the baby. Heading downstairs. Would she even notice he was gone? Probably just laugh with Sunil about how lazy he was. About how he was nothing but a slacker. A low-life joker who loved cheese puffs and nothing more.
And suddenly, he felt pathetic. Totally pathetic for ever hoping he could fall into anything serious with Kelly. Because she was out of his league. Way, way out of his league.
And he was pathetic for moping like this, too.
He needed to be stronger. That’s what he’d needed his whole life.
He needed to puff out his chest. To step up. To lay down a few laws for himself; a few boundaries.
He’d got obsessed. He’d grown pathetic.
But he didn’t have to be that way forever.
He looked back. Pictured himself heading back to that house. Telling Sunil to shove it. To walk. Hearing Kelly’s protestations and telling her he was going to start making some decisions because it was his baby as much as it was hers.
And if she protested, if she fought… well, he’d lay down a few laws of his own.
His thoughts drifted to something else, then. Something that made him feel deeply uncomfortable.
But something that sparked a glimmer of excitement somewhere deep within.
Killing Sunil.
Putting him down on his knees and making him beg.
And then beating the shit out of him.
“Fuck,” Eddie said, shaking his head, feeling a little sick for even entertaining the idea. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He looked back again, and he saw the likeliest outcome.
That letter he’d written Kelly.
Or rather, that note.
I had to leave.
Look after him.
I love you both and I’m so sorry but I can’t do it.
Sunil is a better dad.
Love you.
It made him cringe just thinking about it. Pathetic. It wasn’t going to sway her. Was just going to convince her further he was a total creep.
But he knew he had to go back there.
Because he was so pathetic.
He wasn’t cut out for this lonely road.
Not like Noah.
He never was as strong as Noah. Never was as tough as him.
And as much as he loved Noah for everything he’d done for him… a part of Eddie resented him for just how easily he bounced back.
And just how easily he adapted.
He stood up. Turned around, back towards the house. Hoped they hadn’t woken yet. Hoped Kelly hadn’t found the note.
He tightened his fists and went to walk when he heard footsteps right over his shoulder.
He froze.
Fear filled his body.
He might’ve pissed himself, just a little.
He looked around.
Two men stood there.
Hands on their hips.
One of them tall. Bulky. Ginger. This big fluffy beard. One eye pointing in a different direction to the other. Yellow, brittled down teeth.
Pistol in hand.
Pointing at Eddie.
“Well, hello,” he said. “You look like you’re a bit down on your luck, chap. What say we go for a little walk, huh?”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Noah backed away as the pack of dogs approached.
It was getting dark. And that made this whole scene all the more terrifying, to be honest. He couldn’t tell how many of them there were, but there were a fair few. Some of them looked starving. All kinds of breeds—huskies, labradors, shih tzus. Many of them with collars dangling around their emaciated necks.
Snarling.
Yapping.
Barking.
Barney stood by Noah’s side, kicked back, and growled. He could count eight of them. He held his hammer in the air. He didn’t want to have to put any of them down. If he could avoid killing them, he would.
Because as much as time might have passed, as much as these dogs might’ve reverted to their old pack animal instincts… they were still dogs. They were still people’s pets. It was hard to make that differentiation so easily.
They might be wild animals now. But they weren’t always. And that was terrifying to deal with.
The dogs closed in. A Great Dane snapping its jaws, growling.
Barney just stood his ground. Barking back. Even though he was terrified, really. Absolute cowardly kitty.
Noah held on to that hammer with his sweaty palms. Eight dogs total. All moving in, but some at different paces. He wasn’t sure he could handle them all. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk being bitten by any of them. Not in this world. No doubt disease was rife. Probably rabies was back on the rise if that was even possible.
So he backed up until he felt the car against his spine.
He stood there. Watched those dogs closing in. Held on to his hammer. Barney kicking back and barking. He thought about turning. About running. But these were dogs. They were hungry, and they were aggressive dogs. They weren’t going to just give in. They’d close in on him, just like that dog had closed in on him as a kid when he’d been running through those fields; fields he wasn’t supposed to be in.
He’d ran. Ran away as quickly as he could. Staggered. Stumbled. Heart racing as newsflashes of children killed by dogs filled his mind.
And then he�
�d climbed into an empty tractor and hid there until the farmer got back and told him his dog was a big softie after all.
An empty tractor.
An idea sprung to mind.
He turned around. Grabbed the door handle of the car behind him. Slowly opened it.
And it was right on cue that the dogs started barking. Raced towards him. Like they sensed he was getting away. Escaping.
So he yanked that car door back and threw himself and Barney inside there.
He slammed it shut right as the Great Dane launched itself against the passenger window.
He lay back across the seats. Barking outside. Scratching at the paintwork and the glass. And as Noah sat there, Barney by his side, growling, barking back, he wondered how they were going to get out of this. Because those dogs. They weren’t going to stop barking. They weren’t going to stop trying to get in here.
They were hungry. And they’d found prey.
So they were going to wait and wait until Noah and Barney had to step out of the car for some kind of food or water or even some stupid faint hope of escape.
And that was if Barney hadn’t eaten Noah first.
Or vice versa.
He looked into Barney’s big brown eyes as the dogs outside continued to bark and circle the car.
“Let’s not eat each other. Deal. Okay?”
Barney tilted his head.
Not entirely reassuring.
Noah waited there in the car. Waited as it went dark. The barking carried on for a while. He kept low, tried to keep out of the visibility of the dogs. He didn’t want to set them off again. His best hope was that they’d lay down to rest, that he could take out a few of them, and then hope he could deal with the rest.
But it was still a crazy plan. He still didn’t have much faith in himself.
He lifted his head. Slowly. Didn’t want to draw any attention to himself. Didn’t want to risk attracting the dogs’ attention.
He looked out and saw them all fast asleep.
He smiled. Edged across the car. He still had to be extra careful. Any sound, and they’d wake right up. He knew how attentive dogs were. Barney excluded. He had to be careful. Very careful.
He went to open the door, heart racing, when he heard one of the dogs start to bark.
His stomach sank. Barney growled. Launched himself across the car in Noah’s defence.
And Noah crouched back down. Braced himself for the dogs to hit the car again, as they all started barking, one by one.
Waited for them to—
A bang.
Then another.
Then another.
Eight bangs in total.
One after the other.
All of them followed by a yelp.
Noah lay there. Eyes wide. Frozen solid.
Barney growled by his side.
“Barney, ssh,” he said.
But Barney kept on growling.
Paws pressed against the window.
Someone was out there.
“Barney! Down!”
He heard voices. Then footsteps, heading closer.
Closer and closer until they were at the side of the car.
And then, as he lay there, eyes wide, doing the best impression of a dead person as he could, he saw a face.
A big, wide face.
Nest-like ginger hair.
Goggly eyes.
And this goofy smile.
A goofy smile that looked dare Noah admit it, dangerous.
He saw that man lift his pistol and point it at the car window.
Prepared to reach out, to drag Barney out of harm’s way. ’Cause he’d see no harm come to this dog.
Then he heard the man laugh.
“Shit,” he said. “I never liked mutts anyway. Let the bitch starve in there.”
And then he lowered his pistol, and he walked.
“Come on, chubbs. Let’s get you back home. We’ve got a ways to go yet, huh?”
Noah listened to those footsteps head away.
He waited until he was absolutely sure they were gone.
When they were, he peeked out of the window.
First, he saw the horrible scene of the fallen dogs. Tongues dangling out of their mouths. Blood oozing from their skulls and onto the road.
And then he saw the people up the road.
Three people.
The ginger guy.
Another bloke.
And…
The hairs on Noah’s arms stood on end.
Because that third man.
That third man had the unmistakable silhouette of Eddie.
They had Eddie.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jane heard a knock on the door, and all the muscles in her body went weak.
She looked in the mirror before her. She was thin. Gaunt. Pale. She’d always taken pride in her appearance. She was a naturally good-looking girl. Bright blue eyes. Long, dark hair. She’d never been high maintenance. People used to say she just looked “clean” and “natural”.
Clean was hardly the word they could use anymore.
Not with the track lines across her arms.
Not with that constant urge for heroin pummelling her system.
She cleared her throat. Looked around the crate she was in. It was a crate of her own now. She had a mattress in here. A bucket she could piss and shit in, which they came and cleaned out three times a day. She was fed well. There were even a few halogen lights in here, too high for her to reach. Didn’t want her doing anything, after all.
They looked after her in here. Compared to the old crate, anyway.
But best of all, they dropped off heroin, every single day.
She told herself she was going to fight it. Resist the urge. Go cold turkey.
But then the urge would get the better of her, and she’d have just a little taste… and then just a little more.
She stared at the dark circles under her eyes. Wondered what her dad would think of her if he knew she’d turned into a junkie.
Even if she got out of this place, she was screwed.
Because she needed the kick the drugs gave her. The buzz the drugs gave her.
She needed that high.
But it’d been two days now, and she felt weak and dizzy. They hadn’t cleaned her room out. They hadn’t fed her. She’d only had a tiny bit of water. She was starving. Dehydrated.
And more than anything, she needed a fix.
And at the back of her mind, she knew why.
She knew exactly why.
They were getting her ready.
Priming her to fight.
To fight somebody else.
Another knock at her door. Bizarre, really. They always knocked when they could just walk in here anyway. But it was an extra layer of politeness. Of making her feel like she lived a life of luxury compared to what she used to live.
Curtis always wanted her to feel like she was special, he said. Because she was. She was their champion.
And as long as she was their champion, she’d live this life.
Until they got bored with her and killed her.
Or until she got killed in a fight herself.
She cleared her throat. Took a few deep breaths. She looked down at her fists, at her thumbs. She wasn’t a fighter. But she’d won one fight already. Killed that woman in that desperate scrap for heroin. She’d gorged on all that food and then thrown it right back up again and then injected herself with heroin and drifted off into a blissful state in this new home of hers.
And now it was time again.
Time to face whoever awaited her.
Time to fight.
“Yes?” she called.
The door swung open.
Curtis, the ginger guy, with his solid head and his googly eyes, smirked at her in that way he always did.
He looked at her body, head to toe then back again. “How you doing, princess?”
She smiled at him. It was all she could do. Had to play her cards right, after all. �
��A little nervous.”
“About that,” he said.
He walked over to her. Held out his hand. “Open your palm.”
“What is—”
“Just open it, okay?”
Jane looked into those eyes, never quite sure exactly where he was looking.
And then she held out her bony right hand and opened her fingers.
Curtis dropped a sharp shard of glass into her hand.
“What’s this for?”
“To help you win your fight.”
Jane frowned. She didn’t understand. “I thought it was a fair fight?”
“There’s a lot of money on the new girl winning. And besides. She’s a tougher bitch than you are. No offence. Make it theatrical. Make it look like she’s gonna kill you again. And then use this. Bam. Game over. Underdog wins again.”
A sickly taste covered Jane’s lips. “And if she kills me before I get the chance?”
Curtis shrugged. “That’d be a shame. Hope it doesn’t happen, y’know? ’Cause there’s a reason I want you stickin’ around.”
“And what reason is that?”
Before Jane could react, Curtis leaned in with his thick, sloppy lips and eellike tongue and kissed her with his rotten stench breath, right on her mouth.
She cringed. Pulled back as he stuffed that tongue deep into her throat, so deep, he touched her tonsils.
And then he pulled away.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you out there. We’ve got a fight on our hands.”
He planted a cold hand on her back and eased her naked body out of the crate.
She held on to that shard of glass. Wondered if she could turn on him. Stab him.
But it wasn’t the time or the place. It was death.
She had to play along.
She had to play along with this as long as she could.
Especially now this guy clearly had a thing for her.
She had to use that any way she could.
She stepped out of the crate onto the cool, stony ground. Heard clapping around the corner. Shouting. Laughter. And it brought it all right back. The memories of last week. Of being terrified. Of wanting to fight.
But of wanting those drugs, too.
She stepped around the corner. Kept that shard of glass tight in her palm.
And she saw them.