Least she’ll have a story to write for her next college essay.
The rain had finally let up and was now only a pestering drizzle. As Adam passed through the open foyer, he kept his eyes on the toilets to either side. The men’s had contained Betty’s severed hand. The women’s had hosted a surprise knife attack. The irony was that he needed to relieve himself quite badly – he hadn’t gone all night – but no way was he going inside those cramped, dark rooms on his own.
It’s a surprise I haven’t shit myself yet.
Time for that later. I need to make this work.
He stepped out of the foyer and into the drizzle. By this point, he had been sodden for most of the night, so a little more rain wouldn’t hurt him. Back out in the open, his biggest concern was the possibility that a crack of thunder from the woods would send a bullet through his eyeball. His theory that the sniper wouldn’t kill him was just that – a theory – and if he was wrong, he would soon know about it. Margaret had taken a bullet in the head, but that was because she wasn’t supposed to be there. She was a witness not a participant.
Did she have a family? Kids?
What are they going to do when they find out she was executed for no reason?
Adam moved in a wounded amble. If the sniper thought he was going to make a run for it, then he might shoot, but by moving slowly in a straight line, there was no reason to overreact and pull the trigger. He would never make it to the road in time even if he wanted to attempt it.
I’m not planning to run. I’m planning to talk.
“Okay, I’m here. You said my name, which means you know me. Well, here I am, let’s talk like civilised people.”
The rain made a gentle pattering sound, but a low, rumbling voice interrupted it. “Civilised? You think talking in a group erases your crimes; that if you just say how sorry you are, the world will forgive you. Adam, you don’t deserve forgiveness, and you will never get it. You’re a worthless animal – less than a pig. You all are.”
Adam squinted and tried to see in the dark. The moon was almost full, but it kept passing behind storm clouds, which meant he could make out only the vague shape of a man. “You’re probably right, but we’re doing our best to change. Who are you? Why are you doing this? Do I know you?”
The white face appeared out of the shadows to Adam’s left, forcing him to turn slightly. If he tried to dash back to the community hall, it would be more or less a fair race because they were both equidistant from it. “I am judgement, and tonight you will not escape your sentence.”
Adam shook his head, defiant. “No, you’re only a man beneath that make-up.”
The white face scowled. With only the moonlight by which to see, it was too difficult to make out finer details, but Adam suspected the gaping mouth was actually teeth and lips painted black. Knowing that he was merely facing another man gave him the resolve he needed to stand his ground. He was afraid, but he was no longer terrified.
“What have you done with the others? Where’s Betty? Costa?”
“They’re closer than you think, Adam. I’m sure no one will miss them, just like no one will miss you.”
“Is tonight… Is this all about me?”
The white face contorted and then launched out of the shadows. “Of course it’s about you!”
Adam saw the flash of steel just in time to dodge away. His body was so wrecked that it was like moving through treacle. The blade missed his throat by less than an inch. Before he had a chance of doing anything else, the blade changed directions and came at him again. It was about to slam into his cheek, but he turned and grabbed his attacker’s wrist with both of his hands. A struggle ensued, and whether it was because Adam was weak or his attacker was strong, it was a losing battle. The knife hovered closer to his face, the sharp tip inching towards his eye.
“W-Who are you?”
“The man who’s going to kill you, you worthless swine.”
Adam flinched. His attacker’s voice had cracked, losing its low, unnatural rumble and resembling a normal speaking voice (albeit an angry one). “Tell me who you are.”
The attacker didn’t respond beyond a grunt as he doubled down on trying to ram the knife into Adam’s eye. Another second and he would be half-blind for whatever remained of his life.
I can’t overpower this man. I need to let go of his wrist.
And somehow avoid getting stabbed.
“You know the first step of getting clean?” he asked, staring into those dark, hate-filled eyes. “Admitting you’re powerless.”
Adam let go of his attacker’s wrist and dodged backwards, avoiding the blade that was now free to swipe at him. At the same time, he reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the items he had taken from the storage room. The snooker ball was wrapped inside one of Adam’s wet socks, and he swung it like an extension of his fist. The sound it made as it cracked off the white face was like a hammer striking wood.
Adam’s attacker grunted in surprise and staggered backwards, clutching their face. Their knife dropped onto the tarmac and Adam kicked it away, removing it as a threat. The tables had finally turned. “I’m done with this shit! I might be worthless, but I am done being messed with. This ends now.”
The white face was stained red, its right cheek smashed open and bleeding. It glared at Adam, mouth twisted in a snarl. “It ends when I soak my hands in your blood.”
Adam swung the pool ball again. The white-faced man threw up an arm to block the blow but ended up taking it on the forearm. He grunted once more in pain and began to retreat, moving back towards the community centre. Adam pressed his advantage, buoyed by the violence and imminent victory.
Am I enjoying this?
No, I’m enjoying being on the right side of things for once. I’m the good guy.
Adam dropped the snooker ball on the ground and reached into his other pocket. He pulled out the screwdriver and took a step forward, brandishing it like a knife. “It’s over. Let the people inside go.”
“Or else what? You’ll kill me? Wouldn’t be the first person you’ve murdered. Katy. James. You murdered them in their—”
Adam unleashed a roar he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of, then lunged forward with the screwdriver. He acted on instinct, without aim, and he buried the tool in the arm of his assailant. The white face contorted in agony, but that only made Adam more feral. He yanked the screwdriver free from wet flesh and then raised it over his head to deliver another blow.
He paused.
Blood streaked the white face, smearing the waxy make-up and revealing the pink flesh beneath. That, along with the disapproving look, caused Adam to halt his attack and gasp in confusion. It can’t be.
“I-It’s you!”
“Yes, it’s me. And I will see you dead.”
“I’m sorry.” Adam leapt forward and thrust the screwdriver, still wanting to end this nightmare, regardless of who ended up dead.
Thunder cracked in the woods.
Adam’s right leg buckled, like his knee had suddenly disappeared. He tumbled to the ground and the side of his head struck the tarmac. His vision tilted.
What just happened? My leg…
Adam lay on his back, staring up at the silvery moon. The bloody white face stared down at him, waxy paint now smeared across a row of straight teeth. Teeth that Adam knew to be false. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, swine. A very long time.”
Adam considered closing his eyes and accepting his fate, but then he remembered that his attacker was unarmed.
So am I. Where did my screwdriver go?
A glint of steel nearby alerted him not to the screwdriver, but to his attacker’s large knife. Could he reach it?
It’s right there.
Adam rolled and reached for the blade, but his attacker kicked him in the ribs. He gasped as air escaped him and panicked when it didn’t return.
The white-faced man strode over to the knife and reached for it leisurely. He picked it up and examined it wit
h a wicked smile. “This blade has already tasted your blood once. It’s hungry for more.”
Adam tried to catch his breath, but his whole body seized as his lungs failed to inflate. His various injuries amplified themselves until he couldn’t tell his arms from his legs.
The white-faced man turned the knife until it pointed downwards. He stood over Adam with it and sneered. “You’ll never see them again. They’re in a better place than you’ll ever know.”
“As long as they’re happy, I can rest in peace.”
The white face contorted in a confused grimace. Adam was supposed to be begging for his life, screaming in terror, but instead he was at peace.
I’m not afraid.
His attacker stepped forward and stabbed the knife downwards, but before it bit into Adam’s flesh, someone else appeared and tackled his would-be murderer from behind.
John appeared in front of Adam, offering a hand. “You have a talent for getting in trouble, do you know that?”
Adam nodded and let John pull him to his feet. He’d been shot in the knee, but it seemed that the bullet had only grazed him. The two of them immediately started hobbling back towards the community centre, John with his pierced foot, and Adam with his shot knee. “I thought that went better than expected,” said Adam. “If nothing else, I finally figured out who’s doing this.”
John stared at Adam. “Who?”
“I can barely believe it but—”
A crack from the woods. The sniper coming back to play.
John grabbed Adam by the arm. “Come on, let’s move. We can debrief inside.”
Adam glanced back at his white-faced attacker. The man was getting back to his feet, but he was backing off instead of pursuing. It was his partner’s turn to terrorise. But Adam still wasn’t afraid. Not now that he knew who was behind this. He was only upset. Saddened.
Unsurprised.
John shoved Adam into the foyer as another shot sounded from the direction of the woods. Then they were both inside, sheltered from the gunfire. John grimaced at Adam and opened his mouth to speak.
Only blood came out.
John collapsed into Adam’s arms. It led to an awkward dance between them as Adam tried to shuffle back towards the double doors to the hall while trying to keep the man upright and trying to keep his right knee from buckling. Tasha was there waiting for them, and she rushed out to help. They managed to get John inside and then Patrick appeared to shove a stack of chairs up against the doors.
Adam and Tasha lay John on his back. More blood bubbled from between his lips. His white shirt had turned red right above his belt buckle. A gut shot.
That’s bad, right?
John moaned in agony, the colour draining from his face as Patrick cast the wind-up torch on him. “I-It’s okay. My liver has taken worse than this.”
He’s making jokes? Adam couldn’t help but laugh. It was a sudden, unexpected sound, like a—
Like a gunshot.
“It’s my dad who’s doing this,” said Adam.
Everyone stared at him in shock, including John. Tasha was the one to question him first. “Your dad?”
“Well, my father-in-law to be accurate. It’s Katy’s dad. He’s the one outside wearing make-up.”
“What is he? A circus clown or something? A drag queen with a bad temper?”
Adam shook his head. “A police inspector. Thirty years in the force. He’s retired now, but…”
Tasha shook her head and groaned. “But he’s a badass, yeah?”
“Probably the toughest man I ever met. He would be in his seventies now, but he’s strong as an ox and fit as a fiddle.”
Patrick put his hand on Adam’s back. “This is about the fire?”
“It has to be. He wanted me to get life in prison. I saw his face when I only got eighteen months. Not angry, just broken – like his entire world had turned to mud. Katy’s mother died a year before the fire so she and James were all that he had left. I took them from him.”
John coughed, spluttered, and then smiled with bloody lips. “I told you this wasn’t about me.”
“I’m sorry, John. I caused this.”
There was only silence, which Adam took as blame. He had caused the events of tonight. People were dead because of him.
More people.
“I would offer myself up if I thought it would do any good, but I don’t think my father-in-law intends on leaving any survivors. He’s lost his mind. He’s spent his entire life upholding the law, and now this. I can’t believe it.”
Tasha put her hands on John’s gunshot wound, which made him moan. She looked at Adam while she pressed down. “We need to get help or he’s going to die.”
“I can hear you,” said John, “and I have no intention of dying.”
Tasha smiled at him. “Good. I have no intention of letting you.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Patrick took off his spectacles and polished them against his shirt. His wounded hand had swelled, and it was now stiff like a claw. “I would say we need to make a plan, but I think I’ve had quite enough of those. At least we know why this is happening; there’s some comfort in that. Do you have any idea who the sniper is, Adam? Does your father-in-law have a deranged brother?”
Adam sighed. “It’s Costa. Every time we’ve been shot at, Costa has been missing. The first time, he was alone with Betty and she disappeared. Then he went into the woods and set me up by clicking the walkie-talkie. Costa has been missing every time the sniper has appeared.”
“I don’t buy it,” said Tasha.
John moaned. “I do. He’s probably special forces. We all saw the way he camouflaged himself and disappeared into those woods.”
“He was a signalman,” said Adam, “not special forces, but that might explain why the power is off and our phones have been useless all night. He could have rigged this place.”
“There’s a storm,” said Patrick. “The power’s probably off everywhere, and the signal here has always been poor.”
Adam shook his head. “The power isn’t off everywhere. Margaret came to check out the alarm, didn’t she? If the power was out in the entire area, she wouldn’t have bothered because it would have been pointless doing anything but waiting for the grid to come back online. Plus, I saw the lampposts outside by the road. They’re lit. This has been planned out to the last detail.”
Tasha cleared her throat and pulled her sleeves down over her hands. “I don’t see how Costa would be involved in a revenge plot against you. He doesn’t even know you.”
“He’s known me six months.”
“In the group. You’ve done nothing to harm him personally. He tried to help us. If not for Margaret turning up…”
Adam shook his head again. “Before Margaret hit me with her car, the white face – my father-in-law – was there, waiting to stop me. It was a trap. I was supposed to die out there.”
“Okay,” said Patrick. “So we know who we’re up against. That puts us in a better position than we were before. Lord, I can’t believe Costa is a killer. After all these years, I thought I was better able to read people. Perhaps I’m not cut out to be a leader.”
“Yeah, I guess not,” said Tasha.
Patrick glared at her. “Did I ask for your opinion?”
“What? No, I was just making a—”
“A joke at my expense? Well, thank you very much, but my personal shortcomings aren’t a laughing matter.”
Tasha repositioned her hands on John’s gut wound. “Chill out, Pat—”
“Chill out? You think this is a chilling out situation?”
Adam put up a hand. “Cool it, Patrick. You’re losing your temper.”
Patrick swiped Adam’s hand away and snarled. “Don’t you put your hand in my face. I…” He stopped, the words apparently sticking in his throat. He put a hand to his forehead and covered his eyes. “What on earth am I doing? I apologise to you both. It’s the stress of the situation.”
Adam smil
ed. “It’s okay, Patrick. Nobody’s fully in control of their wits right now. Just remember we’re on the same side.”
Tasha studied Patrick in silence, her eyes narrow and suspicious.
Adam put a hand on her knee. “Everything is calm, yeah?”
She nodded, her eyes still on Patrick. “I’m chill, man. I’m always chill.”
“Am I dead yet?” asked John. “Because I’ve changed my mind. Your bickering is driving me quite insane. I’d like to die.”
Tasha chuckled and then gave him a warm smile. “Sorry, John. We’re best buds again now, I promise. How are you doing?”
“I’ve been shot in the stomach.”
“Apart from that?”
“I’d rather like a drink.”
“Wouldn’t we all?”
A window exploded, glass raining inside. They were all so numb by that point that no one even bothered to scream; they just ducked instinctively.
Another window exploded.
Then another.
The bone-aching chill grew worse as an icy breeze blew in from outside. The rain began to hit the sills and form rivulets down the wall.
“That must be Costa,” said Adam. He got up and headed for the double doors, limping on his injured right knee.
“Where are you going?” Tasha asked. She couldn’t let go of John’s wound, so she stayed where she was.
“To go and agree terms of surrender. The jig is up. I know it’s my father-in-law out there, so perhaps he’ll be willing to talk now.”
No one tried to stop him because he knew they had no better ideas. Death seemed grimly certain, so where was the risk in trying anything at all?
He headed outside into the drizzling rain and found his father-in-law already waiting for him. Blood from his broken cheek had caused his white make-up to wash away in places. It made him appear even more demonic.
Adam waved a hand wearily. “Richard, it’s always a joy to see you.”
“Don’t you play flippant with me, boy. I ought to cut out your tongue.”
“Do whatever you want, but why harm a bunch of innocent people?”
“Innocent? Ha! Every one of you is a parasite, sucking the happiness from all those around you. You worthless alkies would rather see the world burn than go a day without a drink. It’s pathetic. Don’t you see how pathetic you are?”
Gripping Thrillers Page 10