Wasted Lives, a Detective Mike Bridger novel
Page 30
Chapter Twenty Eight
John Mouller was in more pain than he had ever felt before. He thought he had woken, but could not be sure. His body was on fire, he could not move and that trapped him within himself. He was fighting against his mind, which was telling him to sleep, never wake up, and never feel the pain again…
He could feel someone else in the room with him to, another human presence, but he could not open his eyes to see. It had to be Jo…; who else could it be? He had to stay strong for her. He had been the one who put her into danger; he had been too arrogant and overconfident. He had been trying to show off a little as well, but he had underestimated the Gang and now she was suffering…
The last pitiful image of her wearing only her underwear was stuck in his head, he knew they wanted to rape her, he knew they would not let either of them go. He knew they would die and he could not do a thing about it.
He had no idea how long they had been there, time had lost its meaning. Why in the hell has no one come for us…, Dunedin is not a big place, everyone knows where the pad is, our bloody car is parked right outside.
He found himself getting angry with his colleagues, they never took him seriously, and he always felt like the tolerated little brother around them. He lived in a different world; he knew that, simply because of his age. They just didn’t remember what it was like starting out, older more experienced colleagues had a way of making him feel a little lacking… it didn’t help he was a little bit lazy as well. Although he had worked hard to become as Detective and put everything he had into the cases that warranted it, there was a limit. Some jobs were for the uniforms to deal with… he was a Detective…he was supposed to be above that now. Some of his colleagues, Mike Bridger for one, had mentioned in a veiled way that it was supposed to be a ‘whole of police’ approach to fighting the battle against arseholes like the ones who had them now.
Trapped inside his head, he was in trouble, and he needed help. He did not care where it came from, Uniform or Detective… he realised that they were all in the game together… us against them, no division.
He heard a door open and felt a small rush of fresh air, followed up by the sour stench of unwashed human. He could not see but he felt the presence move into the room, was this it? He wanted to brace himself but his body would not play the game, it was too sore and tired, he did not control it anymore. Callously trapped inside his body to hear and feel everything that was to happen and he could not do a damn thing about it.
“Are you awake, Coppa?” He recognised the voice… Joseph Kingi…there was a strange edge to his tone. “I have something for you to watch…” He sounded hollow; his voice was fading in and out making it hard to hear. The image of his face broke into his unconsciousness and stayed there. Ugly tattoos made uglier by an evil and dangerous smile, licking his lips, flicking his dreadlocks back…
“This is it J man… this is it…”
Was Joseph talking to himself? Maybe he was J man... He was confused. He heard the sound of laboured breathing, as if he was exerting himself. Then a grunt, followed by the sound of something heavy and dull banging on the wall to his left.
“I’m going to fucking enjoy this bitch…”
There was a subtle noise, similar to a ripe tomato squashed in a closing fist, followed by a sharp intake of breath… a small whimper …
“Fucking get some…” Joseph’s voice was becoming urgent. More breathing…he was doing something to Jo… something he could not see… something he felt…
There was more breathing, increasing in urgency… he heard another sick sucking sound followed by a dull thud… one… two… three, more and more. He heard a wet gurgle, quickly smothered… a wet coppery smell invaded his nostrils, overpowering the sour sweat… he had smelt this before…
Then silence…
“It’s done…I’ve fucking done it… fuck yeah”
He felt Joseph stand up from his labours…
“Did you enjoy the show, Coppa…? I actually fucking loved it… but it’s only an appetiser for the main course, and I’m going to really enjoy that now…” He wanted to scream, he wanted to rise up and take Joseph Kingi down, he wanted to help but his broken body betrayed him.
The sour stench subsided as he felt Joseph’s presence leave the room, leaving only the coppery aftertaste of blood; the face subsided from inside his head. He was left in the room… alone… the other human presence had gone…he had killed her, she was gone…there was nothing he could do now.
He stopped fighting his consciousness, he wanted sleep, and he did not want the pain. He did not want to lie in this room anymore, next to his dead colleague.