Dead Statues

by Tim ORourke

Page 16

 

  These creatures, although powerful, looked thin and gaunt, like fur-covered men that had been half-starved, and I knew that their desire to kill and hunt was driven by hunger.

  Excited by the smell of the cooking meat, the berserkers yelped and barked outside. As if understanding my plan, Murphy looked at me, winked, and said, “Well done, Potter – there’s hope for you yet. ”

  I looked back at Kayla and Sam, who were still by the open doorway as they fought with their claws and fangs to keep the berserkers from getting in. The smell of the meat wafting up through the chimney and out of the front door was only driving the creatures on even more.

  “Get back!” I roared at Kayla and Sam as I raced towards them, knocking them away from the door.

  The berserkers seized their chance and bounded and scrambled into the room. All of them headed for the fireplace where they greedily pulled the cooking carcass from the fire. With their huge, long snouts, they pushed and shouldered each other away, keen to get at the meat. The sound of tearing meat and chewing filled the room.

  “Get out of the way!” one of the berserkers suddenly screeched at another.

  To learn that these creatures could actually speak made my skin turn cold.

  “Pleeeaaassee! It was my piece,” one of them whined, fighting over a scrap of half-cooked meat which had fallen from its snout and had been snatched up by another.

  “Go! Go! Go!” I hissed at Kayla and Sam, pushing them out of the door. I looked back to see these half wolves, half humans driven mad by hunger and failed matching, fight each other for the meat.

  Murphy sprang from the kitchen window, his slippers and shirt tucked under his arms . He dropped the slippers into the snow and wedged his feet into them and put on his white police shirt.

  The sergeant stripes on his shoulders glistened.

  “That’s better,” he sighed, then walked around the side of the house again towards the dilapidated-looking barn.

  He

  returned

  just

  moments later carrying two petrol cans. “Take one of these,” he said, thrusting one of the cans at me.

  I watched him unscrew the lid, then splash the contents around the doorframes and window frames of the cottage.

  “What you waiting for?” Murphy barked over his shoulder at me.

  “What about your deposit?” I shouted over the sound of the feeding berserkers.

  “Fuck the deposit,” he grinned and continued to douse the cottage with petrol.

  I took the cap off the can that Murphy had given me and splashed the strong, smelly petrol over the front of the house. When I had shaken the last few drops from it, Murphy looked at me.

  “Stand back,” he said, bending down and holding his lighter to what was left of the door frame. Within moments, greedy flames were crawling across the front of the cottage. Almost at once the heat was unbearable as the fire began to consume the building. The sound of burning wood hissing and snapping filled the air, belching plumes of black acrid smoke into the white sky.

  We stood and watched the house rapidly disappear as it became engulfed by the flames and smoke. “I can hear them,” Kayla said, cocking her head to one side. They’re screeching and calling out for help. ”

  “I can’t hear anything,” Murphy muttered, turning and heading back towards the barn and the police van.

  I stood next to Kayla and Sam, and I was sure that over the sound of the roaring fire, I could hear those half human, half wolves crying and howling in fear and pain, as the flames and smoke consumed them. Then, the sounds of their cries were drowned out as the van’s engine rumbled to life. The thick, black tyres crunched over the snow as Murphy drove slowly towards us.

  “What are you waiting for?” he barked at us.

  Silently we climbed into the van, and before I’d even the chance to slide the door shut, Murphy was heading back across the field. In the wing mirror I could see some of the berserkers run, howling and screaming from the fire, pin-wheeling their long arms in the air as they fought desperately to put out the flames that ate away at them.

  Burn, you fuckers, I thought with a smile and looked away.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kiera

  My father looked at me through the falling snow as it settled on his jet-black hair. It was like looking at a ghost in some way, except that he was really there. It was like he hadn’t died at all.

  When I’d last seen him, his cheeks had been sunken, his eyes like two deep holes in his face, dark-rimmed, and faded. He had been nothing more than a skeleton; even his hair had thinned and almost fallen out. I remembered his skin had looked waxy and yellow. Now as he stood before me, he looked just how I’d wanted to remember him. Handsome, full of life, his eyes sparkling blue.

  “Kiera,” he said sounding surprised.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Although I had promised myself that I would only watch him from afar, to see him once again, standing so close within reach, I rushed forward and collapsed in his arms. He wrapped them around me and I sobbed uncontrollably against his chest. He smelt just how I remembered him to. Aftershave and soap. I never wanted to let go of him, I wanted to stand in that spot, as snow fell all around us, and never let go. He was my dad and I loved him with all my heart. I didn’t care what anyone said, he was my dad. He looked the same, smelt the same, and held me the same. I closed my eyes against those terrible memories of him screaming out in pain as he begged the nurses for morphine. At least in this world, he would never know such agony. I wouldn’t let that happen to him.

  “Kiera,” he whispered, pulling me close.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I looked up into his face, and could see the love he had for me in his eyes, that unconditional love that a father has for his daughter. How could I tell him, even begin to explain, that in my world he had died from cancer, and in this world – his world – I had come back from the dead?

  As my mind tried to scramble into some kind of order, he said, “What are you doing here? I thought you had gone away to study for your sergeant’s exam? What are you doing back already?”

  I blinked and felt more of my tears trickle onto my face in warm rivulets. “I thought I was dead here?” I breathed, the words out before I had a chance to stop them.

  “Dead?” he frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “I thought I was dead,” was all I could say back at him, my mind now wondering if Potter and Murphy hadn’t lied to me. Perhaps they had hoped if they told me my father was grieving for me in this world, then perhaps I would have left him alone – not gone looking for him.

  “Well, you don’t look dead to me,” he smiled, brushing my fringe gently from my brow.

  “Come inside and warm up by the fire. I’ve got some of your favourite biscuits – Cadbury’s chocolate fingers. ”

  I couldn’t remember ever actually liking them, but perhaps I did in this world? I wondered as he took me by the hand and led me towards the front door.

  “Dad?” I said, and that word sounded strange coming from my mouth. I hadn’t called anyone that for such a very long time.

  “Huh?” he said, looking back at me as we reached the open front door.

  “I really thought I was dead,” I said, now feeling so confused that my brain was beginning to hurt.

  “You’re stressed, that’s all that’s wrong with you, Kiera,” he said, leading me into the warmth. “You’ve been stressing about that sergeant’s exam for months. I knew no good would come of it. ”

  “But. . . ” I started, as he closed the front door, and then took my coat from me.

  “You go and sit down and warm yourself up,” he said. “I’ll make you a nice cup of sweet tea. ”

  “Coffee,” I whispered.

  “When did you start drinking coffee?” he said with a curious stare.

  “Only rec
ently,” I said, looking away.

  “Coffee it is,” he smiled and headed towards the kitchen.

  Alone in the snug-looking living room, I armed the tears from my cheeks with the sleeve of my sweater. I sat in a chair before the fire, and glanced about the room. There were several pictures of us on the wall above the fire. I looked at them and couldn’t see the picture which Potter had brought back from my flat for me. Perhaps that’s why it wasn’t on the wall. Thinking of Potter again, I began to feel angry at him. How dare he tell me that I was dead in this world, when I was very much alive? If Potter had been lying, then there would be two of me in this world. The othe r me was away studying for the police sergeant’s exam.

  Then suddenly standing up, realising what a mess I was creating, I headed back towards the front door. What would happen if the other Kiera – my other self – suddenly showed up here? What would happen then? My mind raced as I took my coat from the hook by the door where my father had hung it. What would happen when my other self did return from her study leave, and my father spoke of me turning up talking about being dead?

  No, I had to leave! Regardless of whether Potter had lied to me about me being dead or alive, coming here had been a big mistake. Somebody was going to get hurt, and I didn’t want that someone to be my father. He had no knowledge of what had happened in the world before it got pushed. I was wrong to make him a part of this.

  Slowly, I lifted the latch on the front door and opened it.

  “Kiera?” he suddenly said from behind me.

  To hear him say my name hurt so much. I never thought I would hear my dad say my name again.

  “Where are you going, Kiera?” he asked sounding confused.

  I daren’t look back at him, because if I did, I would stay. I wouldn’t be able to leave him again.

  “I can’t stay,” I whispered, the front door half open.

  “But you haven’t drunk your coffee,” he said gently.

  “I have to go,” I said, tears spilling onto my cheeks again, just wanting to turn and run into his arms.

  “What’s wrong, Kiera?” he hushed, coming close. “You can talk to me. I’m your dad.