Shadowville: Book One of the Shadoweaters

by Paul Taylor

  Ben woke up the following morning splayed out flat on his back on the hardwood floor of his house, thinking he might go and buy a bed today. When he'd moved in, the thought of furniture hadn't even occurred to him until it was too late. He'd been so relieved to be out of the motel, then so eager to get drunk, that he didn't even think of furniture until long after the shops had closed.

  Staring at the ceiling with a sore back, a stiff neck and a headache that felt like elephants mating against the inside of his skull, Ben wanted nothing more than to roll over in a big, comfy bed and go back to sleep. He groaned aloud and pushed himself up into a sitting position. After a few long moments he managed to stand, then had to stop with his hands on his knees, waiting for the room to stop spinning before he could move any further.

  It was cold outside but he was sweating. Usually a sure-fire sign that he'd had far too much to drink. And that was likely right.

  Mouth feeling like he'd eaten a bathmat, Ben wandered out to the sink and, cupping his hands under the tap, slaked his horrible thirst. He gulped water down until his stomach felt like it was going to burst. He thought about his next move and wished he had something to sit on that wasn't the floor.

  "I really should ring Kath," he said out loud. The words hung, ominous and strange in the heavy air of the lounge room like a crazy man's dream, and Ben wished he could unsay them. He had a paranoid sense that something bad was going to happen.

  The urge to call Kath was on him strongly now and he tried to push it away but it came back with all the force of a compulsion. It seemed, now that his brain had so cheerfully intimated that something might have happened, that he couldn't unthink it. He wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything until he spoke to her and made sure she was okay.

  "Shit," said Ben, glaring across the room at his mobile phone where it sat next to his laptop on top of his small suitcase.

  As he stared at the laptop, a thought occurred to him and he swore again. He'd have to get the phone put on otherwise he wouldn't be able to get on the internet. He'd do that later.

  After he called Kath, his mind insisted.

  Would it really hurt that much to give her a call? Say a quick hi, how you going? I just called to say I love you. Oh, sorry Neil, could you get Kath for me?

  Despite himself, Ben grinned. The thought of ringing Neil up and telling him he loved him was pretty funny. Pretty fucking hilarious actually. Ha ha. That's a good one. If Ben tried hard, he could imagine Neil laughing about it while beating the shit out of Kath.

  "Crap'n'fuck," spat Ben, and snatched up his mobile phone.

  He dialled Kath's number (it was on speed dial) and waited.

  As he listened to the soft burr-burr of the phone, it was all too easy to imagine Kath laying on the floor in a pool of her own blood, gasping for breath as she tried to crawl across to the phone. Her only hope, her last chance of salvation. Barely able to lift one blood-stained hand off the floor she stared up at the phone table, a hundred miles tall, her eyes slitted with pain, and cried out into the angered air of the house.

  Then Neil, hearing the cry of the phone, stormed back into the room.

  "Shut-up," he spat at her.

  He picked the receiver up and put it back down, cutting it off mid-wail. His knuckles were red and swollen, his hands and arms speckled with blood.

  This vision was so complete that Ben could even smell the coppery taste of blood in the air. When he realised his phone had stopped ringing, Ben thought that Neil really had hung up on him. He held his breath and everything stilled around him as his whole point of concentration drew down to the phone, pressed so tightly against the side of his head the skin surrounding it was white.

  "Hello," said Kath's voice. "Is anyone there?"

  Ben was about to speak when he heard Neil's voice in the background. "Who is it?" he demanded. "It's not another of those prank callers is it? I've fucking had enough of them," he said, his voice getting louder. "Here, give me that! Hello? Who is this? Have some guts and talk, you chicken-shit cunt!"

  Ben hung up.

  "Cocksucker."

  At least he knew she was all right. He sat his phone down with a shaking hand. Just the sound of Neil's voice had infuriated him, made him want to physically leap down the phone line and strangle him with the phone cord.

  "Fuckin cocksucker!" yelled Ben and kicked the wall. "Fucker! Fucker! Fucker!" he yelled, punching the wall.

  If only he had been quicker, Ben might have had a chance to say hello to Kath before Neil had gotten there. But, as usual in times of stress, Ben's faculties had temporarily deserted him.

  As he stood under the warm spray of the shower, Ben decided he might go and buy some furniture today. Furniture would be nice. His stomach rumbled and he decided on something else he might buy. Groceries. Like the storied old lady who gave the dog a bone, his cupboard was bare.

  After a shower and a shit Ben was on his way. He just had to make one little stop-off on the way.

  He hadn't known the exact location of his stop-off and when he looked up the address in the White Pages a little thrill lit up his spine like a sparkler. It was practically right around the corner from him. Shit, he could walk there if he wanted.

  But he drove. Because for one thing, he was going grocery and furniture shopping and he doubted there were any furniture stores in Casino. And secondly, because at his first stop he might have to make a quick getaway.

  Ben turned the corner into the street he wanted and started looking for street numbers. At the house number before the one he wanted, he happened to look ahead and almost shit his pants.

  Kath and Neil were walking out of the front door of their house. Ben pressed down on the accelerator and sped on past, staring resolutely ahead so Neil wouldn't see him staring at them. Unfortunately, this also meant that Ben couldn't tell if they saw him or not.

  There was one thing he did see, however, and it very nearly caused him to turn straight back and jam his car straight over the top of Neil.

  Kath was limping.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO