Fractured Minds (Rebels of Sandland Book 3)

by Nikki J Summers

  “He has fuck all rights, Mum.”

  “Watch your language,” Dad barked back, ever the guard dog with a bark no one took any notice of and a bite that didn’t exist, not when it came to his brother-in-law, anyway.

  I moved my glare from Mum to him, and wished to God I could tell him exactly why he was such a fucking awful father in every way that counted. But I’d never betray Alice in that way. It was her truth to tell, not mine.

  “I’ll say whatever the fuck I want,” I spat. “I can’t fucking believe you.”

  “Now listen here, son…” He waved his finger at me as if he had authority in my life. “We overlook a lot of your crap in this house, but that stops tonight––”

  “You’re damn right it’s gonna stop. I’m out of here. You have no fucking clue what you’ve just started. But I’ll tell you this… I am fucking ending it.” I pushed off from where I stood and marched across the room.

  “Always talking in riddles, and that’s when you do decide to bloody speak.” Dad laughed at his cruel jab at my anxiety.

  It was the last straw.

  I couldn’t be in this house or in their presence for a moment longer.

  I stormed out of the room, grabbed my coat from the foot of the stairs and left, slamming the front door shut. They may have thrown Alice to the wolves, given her up like she was nothing, but she wasn’t alone, and I would make damn sure nothing happened to her. If that meant I needed to pay a visit to Brinton Manor, then so be it.

  I walked for what felt like hours, using my mobile phone to track where I was headed. I didn’t know Brinton Manor all that well, and I didn’t want to spend any more time than I had to walking around the place.

  As I turned a corner, I saw the sign indicating the boundary where Sandland ended and Brinton began. ‘Welcome to Brinton Manor’ the official road sign said. Behind it, spray-painted in amateur graffiti that stood six foot high and looked like the work of a seven-year-old, were the words, ‘All who come here, abandon all fear.’ They didn’t need to warn us. Nobody ever came here because they wanted to. It was hardly a tourist attraction.

  There were broken bottles, glass and other shit littering the pavements and the gutters. The roads were full of potholes and sprigs of grass grew through the walls of the desolate buildings and along the street. Nature was trying to survive here but dying a death under the weight of industrial Britain. Because that’s what Brinton was, an old industrial town that’d been shafted in the nineteen-eighties and never fully recovered. Old buildings that used to thrive producing steel and other products had become barren, unused and rundown.

  We’d never used any of the buildings for our parties. We never wanted to. Brinton wasn’t the kind of place people would choose to go to for a night-out, and we weren’t about to change that any time soon.

  It was dark, and the street lights here were even worse than in my part of Sandland. At least some of them worked where I lived. Here, it was a ghost town. I glanced down at my phone, noticing that the indictor for where my uncle lived was getting closer. Not long now.

  I shoved my hand into my pocket to check I still had the Stanley knife safely tucked away. I hadn’t spent much time planning what I’d do when he opened that door. Dwelling on it would only make me nervous. Instead, I focused on my surroundings and tried to regulate my breathing. Anything to keep me calm and help me prepare for what I was about to face.

  The streets were dead, and all I could hear was the screeching of a car’s brakes in the distance, car horns blaring out and then shouts and bangs. If you closed your eyes, you’d think you were stuck in a video game. Open them and the reality was far worse.

  As I neared the end of the road, I saw an underpass looming up ahead. There was no other way to get out the other end, only high walls on either side. If I wanted to keep going, that was where I was going to have to go. Turning and leaving wasn’t an option at this point, but when I saw shadows moving in the darkness of the underpass, I felt the nerves kick in.

  Someone was waiting in there.

  More than one person.

  And like a lamb to the slaughter, I was joining them.

  I put my phone in my back pocket, hoping the light from the screen hadn’t notified them of my approach.

  Keep your head down, Finn. Walk past and be on your way. They don’t know you. Stay quiet and this will all be over soon.

  I heard the banging of metal on metal. A rhythmic, menacing beat. Then the sound of gruff male voices and barking of a dog; a mean, vicious bark. That dog was defending its territory and it saw me as the enemy.

  There were fluorescent lights at the end of the underpass that flickered on and off, and when the shadows began to move and I finally stepped out into the murky light of the street, I felt my legs fill with lead and my heart thump in my chest.

  There, in front of me, stood five men, all dressed in black with black bandanas covering the lower part of their face. Each one holding some kind of pipe or bat, and every one of them looking like they were about to take me out.

  A Rottweiler stood to the side of them, snarling at me and baring his teeth. I had no chance. Five against one? Even Brandon couldn’t win with those odds.

  They moved as a unit, like a shadow army, taking a step closer to me. They had swagger and an air of intimidation that had me rooted to the spot. I knew their names, but I didn’t know which one was which, only that they were the reason I hated this place.

  The Soldiers of Anarchy.

  They didn’t stand for anything. Didn’t do anything other than cause fear and mayhem in the town they were brought up in. A town that had chewed them up, spat them out, and now, they were getting payback.

  I’d heard some people argue that they kept the peace on the streets, but that was bullshit. They created the problems they professed to ‘clean up.’ They were the virus, not the cure.

  I stayed still, trying to gauge how this was going to play out. Going any further would mean pushing past them, and I wasn’t about to cause any kind of confrontation.

  I looked at them and they glared back at me. I could feel my fingers getting twitchy, ready to reach for my knife. If they were going to mug me and try to steal my phone, I wouldn’t go down without a fight. I might not be a brawler like Brandon, but I had some skills.

  The one in the middle pulled down his bandana and his snarl turned to a smile as he looked at the men either side of him. Then he took a step forward to make himself stand out from the others.

  So, this was their leader?

  Adam Noble.

  The main soldier and the meanest one, by all accounts. Nicknamed the psycho by anyone who knew him because he had no morals. He didn’t care about anyone or anything, much like the rest of them, but his reputation was the worst. Last time I’d heard his name mentioned in a conversation was because he’d bitten a guy’s ear off for looking at him the wrong way. And that was just for starters. Uncle Tony would fit in really well with this crew.

  “Well, well, well…” he said, pointing his bat in my direction and giving me a manic grin. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Mr Knowles?”

  How the fuck did they know who I was?

  “Oh, don’t look so surprised. We know you. We know all about you. Looks like you’ve wandered down the wrong street though, mate. You’re not welcome here.” He tapped the bat against his leg and gave me a look of warning, narrowing his eyes as if to say, ‘take that step, I dare you. I’m in the mood to wash these streets with your blood tonight’.

  “I just want to get past. I don’t want any trouble.” I kept my face neutral and my hands in my pockets, so they couldn’t see me shaking.

  “No, you’re not the one who causes trouble, are you?” Noble smirked. “You leave that to your man, Mathers. So, what are you doing here? In case you didn’t notice, I’m giving you the chance to fuck off. Take it.” He meant it too, and nodded his head to tell me to run.

  “I have something I need to do first,” I said, holding my nerves and tr
ying to stay calm.

  Breathe in, breathe out. They won’t hurt you. They don’t want a war on their hands, and that’s exactly what they’ll get if shit goes down tonight. On second thoughts, a war would probably be exactly what they wanted. It’d give them something to occupy their time. Basically, I was fucked.

  “You have no business here in Brinton. Not without our say so, anyway. Get… The fuck… Out.” His grin turned menacing, and he started to move towards me, they all did. Instinctively, I backed up, but I tried one last time to make them see sense.

  “I can’t do that. I have to see someone. Someone here, in Brinton.”

  “Where are they?” Some blond guy standing to the left of Adam Noble lifted his chin as he asked me. “Maybe we can help you?”

  “We ain’t doing shit for him, Colton. Shut your damn fucking mouth,” Noble barked, making the rabid Rottweiler next to them cower at his anger.

  So that was Colton King. The Joker. He had a twisted sense of humour and a talent for fucking shit up. He was ruthless, manic, according to the stories I’d heard, and slightly insane. He’d flip out for any reason, and sometimes for no reason at all. Maybe he was more of a threat than Adam The Psycho Noble?

  Story was, King’s father died in suspicious circumstances. At the funeral, King supposedly wore a T-shirt saying, ‘Do I look like I give a fuck?’ and spent the day getting wasted. Then he went back to the cemetery after the wake and pitched a sign into the dirt over his dad’s grave that said, ‘Soul for rent.’ Ask anyone and they’ll tell you, even to this day, they have no idea why he did that. Maybe his family was more fucked up than mine?

  “If he’s here to stir shit up for someone, it might be fun.” Colton shrugged his shoulders and started swinging the metal pipe in his hands, banging it off a faulty lamppost to the side of him and cackling in a crazy way to himself.

  “We don’t do shit for them.” Noble pointed in my direction. “They can handle their own.”

  “If I needed help, I’d have brought it.” I puffed out my chest in an effort to show some degree of confidence.

  “We aren’t fucking about,” Noble the psycho snapped. “You aren’t getting past us. So turn around and jog the fuck on.” He held his bat up now, brandishing it to show he meant business. The rest of them followed suit.

  I had two options here.

  One, I could ignore them, charge my way through, and probably get the shit kicked out of me, yet again. I’d end up with another trip to the emergency room and it’d put me out of action for a few weeks. But that’d leave Tony free to do whatever the fuck he wanted. I couldn’t risk that.

  Or two, I did what they said. I left, planned my attack better, and came back. Maybe in the daylight, when they’d crawled back to whatever rocks they all lived under. As much as I wanted to take option one, I had to be smarter.

  Maybe there was another road I could take to get to Spires Lane?

  “Don’t even think about trying to get round us and go another way,” Noble said, reading my mind. “We have eyes everywhere. If we see you, we will kill you.”

  “I call shotgun on that ride.” Colton laughed, and the others grunted out their own fucked-up responses.

  And me? I took a few more steps backward, keeping my eyes trained on the bunch of lunatics in front of me, not trusting them for a second.

  “That’s it, Knowles. Run back to your little crew and tell them all about how the big bad wolves of Brinton made you shit your pants. If they want a war, they can bring it themselves.”

  “This is nothing to do with them. It’s about me. Only me,” I hissed, pointing my finger at them and gritting my teeth. I needed to make sure they understood that this didn’t involve my friends.

  When I was satisfied that they’d heard, I turned and walked as fast as I could out of there, leaving behind their catcalls and shouts of what a pussy I was. Tonight was not my night, but I wouldn’t give up. I had a target. I just needed to get the soldiers out of my way first.

  Trying to keep my shaking hands under control, I dug my phone out of my pocket to call Alice. I had no idea if she knew about her new neighbour yet, but I had to make sure she was pre-warned.

  “Hey, Finn. You okay?” she answered, sounding carefree.

  She didn’t know.

  “You need to leave Brinton Manor, Al. It’s not safe,” I said, cutting straight to the chase.

  “You’ve said that before, remember? And I didn’t listen the first time. I’m fine. Danya knows the area, and they know her.”

  I had no doubt who the they were that she was referring to. The fact that they knew this Danya girl––that being a good thing in Alice’s eyes––didn’t fill me with a whole lot of confidence.

  “He’s there,” I told her, and the line went quiet. I thought she’d hung up. “Hello? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. What do you mean, he’s here? Here where?”

  “There. In Brinton Manor. He’s got a house on Spires Lane. Mum told him where you are.” I heard the quiet gasp down the phone.

  “Why the fuck would she do that? I told her not to tell anyone.”

  And if you believed that, you’d believe anything.

  “Because she thinks he isn’t just anyone.”

  “Fuck.” I could hear noises in the background, then mumbling, like Alice had covered the mouthpiece to speak to Danya without me hearing. I carried on walking at a steady pace, and I covered my other ear so I could try to hear what they were saying.

  “We’ll leave, now,” Alice stated. “Danya has a cousin up north that could put us up.”

  “Okay. That’s good.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Will you text me when you get there, so I know you’re safe?”

  “Of course I will. Listen, I have to go. Finn… Stay safe, and please don’t do anything stupid. Hopefully, when he sees he isn’t getting the attention he wants, he’ll leave and never come back.”

  Or move onto another victim. That is blood I do not want on my hands.

  I sighed.

  “Whatever. Be safe, sis.”

  I hung up just as I crossed back into Sandland. The twist in my gut eased up, and I wasn’t sure if it was because Alice was running or because I was on my own turf. Either way, the winds were changing. They had to.

  Firing off a quick text to Zak, I asked him if it’d be okay if I crashed at his place. He replied instantly, letting me know that it was cool and he’d make up the airbed in his spare room. I knew Brandon would question why I hadn’t asked him, but he had Harper, and with the babies due soon, I didn’t want to bring any stress to his door. Tomorrow, I would get my shit together. Drive that piece of crap out of the area and get my girl. Tomorrow, it would all go right for me.

  The buzz from my mobile phone jumping around on the floor beside the airbed woke me up and I reached out my hand, blindly slapping against the carpet with my eyes still closed, trying to find it. I hadn’t slept well last night, too much swimming around in my brain. But now, I was groggy and felt like my head was a lead weight, I was that tired.

  The door to the bedroom creaked open and I squinted against the light streaming through the blinds. Zak stood there, holding a mug of coffee and a look that told me he wasn’t going to buy my evasive answers to his questions this morning. I suppose I needed to tell him something plausible. I was freeloading off him, after all.

  “You okay, man?” he asked, placing the mug on the floor next to me and passing me my phone.

  “Yeah.” I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to calm the tufts that were sticking up all over the place. “Thanks for putting me up.”

  “Not a problem. You know you’re always welcome. Stay as long as you need. It’s nice to have the company.”

  I nodded my thanks.

  “Finn, I know shit is going down. I don’t know what shit exactly, but I want you to know, if you need anything, even just to talk, I’m here. Okay?”

  Again, I nodded, picking up my coffee and si
pping it. Zak sighed and gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He was obviously hoping for more from me, but he didn’t push it, he just turned around and left. I held onto my phone and waited until he’d closed the door before I tapped in my code. I had a bunch of missed calls and text messages. The first was from Alice.

  We’re here. We’re safe. I’ll call you in a few days. Don’t worry about me. Just stay away from him. Please. Alice x

  I didn’t respond right away. I didn’t know what else to say that hadn’t already been said. There was another message, and I hoped it was from Effy, but it wasn’t. This was from an unknown number. When I opened it, I saw a link to a video, a message that said, ‘You need to watch this,’ and a cartoon meme of The Joker laughing that’d been sent straight afterwards. I shouldn’t have clicked the link, I knew that, but I wasn’t in my right mind. It could’ve been a virus. But the sticker and the message got to me, and against my better judgement, I opened it. What I saw next would live with me until the day I died.

  The video was grainy and unfocused at the start. There were muffled voices, echoes, and laughter that sounded distorted, like in a horror movie. But then the view became clearer when whoever was blocking the camera moved backwards and into focus.

  A man, wearing nothing but a pair of black jeans and a white balaclava over his head, stood in front of the camera. Why he’d covered his face though, when his whole chest was painted in identifiable tattoos, was ridiculous. But he wasn’t bothered about being recognised. The mask was for effect. To look menacing to me, and whoever else was in that building with him.

  The video was being recorded in a warehouse of some kind. There were broken windows situated high up around the dirty, crumbling walls, showing that the place was derelict. A perfect setting for what was about to go down.

  The guy held a metal baseball bat in his hand, and when he started to swing it around, four other men came into shot. Each one wearing the same jeans and balaclava disguise. All of them with distinctive tattoos on their chest, arms and back. Every one of them with a weapon.