“Fucking hell,” the doc grunted, staggering up with one hand clutched to his throat. His voice was hoarse and his face was drenched with sweat. “He’s having some kind of fit, get out of there!”
“How do we stop it?” I asked, backing into the corner of the cell. The doc shook his head.
“I don’t fucking know, I don’t even know what the crazy prick’s taken! Maybe your pills might help calm him, but I’ve got no fucking clue how you’ll get him to swallow one!”
“Jesus Christ.” I fondled the pill bottle in my pocket and stared down at Turner’s muscular frame, jerking and twitching all over the place. There was no way I was going anywhere near his mouth again; my hand still burned like hell, my skin hot and sticky. But I needed him to stop before he snapped his own bloody neck. “Fine. Fuck it.” I pulled out the bottle and flipped the lid with my thumb, fishing out one of the magic pills. I almost fumbled and dropped the damn thing because my fingers were damp with sweat and blood, but somehow I caught the pill in the air and clasped it tight in my palm. My heart was pumping so hard that my entire body was trembling, but I didn’t have any time left. Resisting the urge to swallow back the tablet myself, I stepped towards Turner and braced myself. “Turner,” I said, side-stepping another kick. “Turner, I need you to take this bloody thing, okay? You’ll be fine after, you just need to take this pill.” If he heard me and understood, he showed no signs of it. If anything, his throes were twice as violent, his skull smashing back against the cold stone. It was now or never. I held my breath and dropped on top of him, pulling one of his hands away and crushing my arm down across his throat. Turner jerked and tried to throw me off, but I held on tight and planted a foot against the bars, gaining leverage. My free hand came up and forced the pill into his gaping mouth, just as he snatched at my hair and yanked my head backwards, exposing my throat. I figured he was ready to tear my windpipe out with his teeth, so I rolled sideways and pulled free of his grasp, then I grabbed him again and forced his jaw shut with both hands, hoping to god that he’d swallowed the bloody tablet.
For a few seconds he kept on thrashing, but then his strength seemed to fade and the fight just left his body, leaving him withered and panting. His eyes fell still, the one I’d jabbed all red and bloody. If it wasn’t for his chest heaving up and down, I’d have thought for sure that the poor bastard was dead.
“Bloody hell,” I muttered, collapsing back against the bars and hacking until my throat ached.
“You okay?” the doc asked, leaning in above me. I shook my head.
“Need…a fag,” I gasped. He smiled and pulled out a pack, dropping one of the cigarettes into my lap.
“The least you deserve, you mad fucking prick. You’re lucky he didn’t chew your fingers off.”
I’d just lifted the fag to my lips when Turner made a strange grunting noise, then some kind of garbled sentence came spilling out. I scooted over and stopped at his side, cautiously leaning in. Sure enough, he was just muttering gibberish. Most of what came out of his mouth wasn’t even real words. I sighed and climbed back to my feet, then shuffled to the door and let myself out.
“Best leave him, you reckon?” I asked the doc. He nodded, staring grimly through the bars.
“Not much else we can do.”
The doc let himself out and I grabbed the one chair in the place and slid it across to the cell, then collapsed down and fished out my lighter, finally sparking up the fag that was dangling from my lips. That first long drag of smoke was heaven. I let it sit in my lungs for a moment before slowly pushing it back out through my nostrils. It was good, but as soon as the doc buggered off I popped one of my pills as well. After that little scare, I needed some serious balancing out.
Despite the pill, I was still shaking when I arrived at the address I had for Loriett, located close to the central square. The house, when I found it, was a tiny, squat little terrace crushed into a narrow pedestrian strip, not much more than an alleyway, just off the high street. I noted the stench that hit me as soon as I turned into the alley, like rotting fish. My nose wrinkled and I tried to take only shallow breaths as I found the door and unlocked it with the key we’d found in Loriett’s jacket.
Her house had been inherited from her parents, who had both passed away the year before, although how all three of them had lived in here I had no idea. Inside was more cramped than I’d imagined, even from the crushed-up exterior. The place wasn’t much more than a couple of rooms connected by a staircase, the ground floor used as a kitchen and the upstairs as a bedroom, with a tiny washroom attached. I figured that no one had come by since the murder, as Loriett’s things were still scattered around the place. A used plate and mug were sat on the table, with remnants of her final meal still encrusted on them. Upstairs, some old clothes had been shoved to one corner of the bedroom, while some others were lying on the bed, as if she’d struggled to choose what to wear before leaving the house for the last time. Aside from these scattered things, Loriett didn’t seem to own too much beyond a few dresses and pairs of shoes.
For a while I stared at the clothes scattered across the bed. Loriett had been living alone, that much was clear, and as far as we could tell she had no other family or friends. No one had come to see the body, not a single person. It seemed almost unbelievable that a young, beautiful girl could apparently be so isolated in a town like this, but perhaps she was the loner type. More happy alone with her own thoughts than in the company of others. I wondered what would happen to this place now that she was gone. If anyone would come to collect her things, or if they’d just be heaped into a couple of bags and taken away. The few traces of her removed, as if she never even existed.
I had a look around but turned up nothing at all, another dead end, and when I left it was with a deep-rooted frustration. It was already growing dark outside by the time I got back to the cells and took my seat by Turner’s cell, but the others still hadn’t returned. Shaw was eventually the next one back, once again with little good news to speak of. Loriett’s grandfather had been the last surviving relative of hers. No siblings to speak of and no husband or lover either, or at least none that the townsfolk were willing to divulge. That certainly seemed to match up with what I saw at her house.
“Took me ages just to find out that much,” Shaw said with a sigh, unscrewing a bottle of whiskey. He sank a finger and held it out, but I turned him down with a shake of the head. I wanted to be completely sober when Turner finally snapped back to reality, if that moment ever came. “Looks like word might be spreading out there,” he continued, taking another pull on the whiskey. “How a soldier did the girl in. I had to practically get on my knees and beg like a dog just to get anyone to even look my way. Most of ‘em turned heel and buggered off the second they saw me approach.”
“How does this shite get out?” I muttered, stretching on the battered old metal chair. “Anyway, we don’t know for sure it was Turner. That lucky charm of his could’ve just fallen out of his car or something. It was just lying at the side of the road, not clutched in the dead girl’s hand or anything.”
“Lying in the road at the exact point where she’d been dumped,” Shaw said, cradling the bottle in his arms. A twisted smile broke across his face. “If it really did just tumble out there, that’s one hell of a lucky charm. Could get the poor bugger shot.”
“Well, hopefully he’ll wake up some time soon so we can find out what the hell happened. He’s been out of it for nearly twenty hours now.”
“He’ll be feeling rough as hell when he does wake up,” Shaw said. “Think I’ll leave the questioning to you, chum.” I rolled my eyes.
“You’re a true asset, Shaw. Now I remember why I picked you.”
“You picked me?” Shaw said with a frown. I bit my cheek and tried to keep from cursing. “You mean, you chose me to do this? To be a peacekeeper or whatever the hell they call it?”
“I might have put your name forward,” I said with a shrug. “I thought this might be more fun than c
leaning out toilets or picking through rubble or doing pointless drills all day long.”
“Oh, I know why you picked me.” Shaw leaned towards me, setting the bottle between his feet. “You picked me because I tossed back that grenade that almost took your face off.” I stared back, swallowing down the acid that tried to leap up into my mouth. Every time I thought of that day, I felt like my entire body was going to implode. That was the day where the whole mortality thing really kicked in and I truly saw what was waiting for us all on the other side. Just one bad decision away.
“I guess I had a feeling that things would get tense,” I told him, reaching down and grabbing the whiskey. I took a single sip, just to taste, then slid the bottle back between his feet. “I just wanted people that I could trust with my life.”
“So what about Wightman?” Shaw asked, glancing cautiously over his shoulder as if merely saying the Second Lieutenant’s name would somehow summon him into the room, like a demon. “You trust him?”
“I don’t know yet,” I said, the honest truth. Shaw’s lips pulled tight.
“He’s a total maniac who gets his kicks from killing.”
“I don’t know, maybe. When I saw him out there, after we took the town, I got the feeling…I don’t think he enjoys it. I think he’s just bloody good at it.”
“Believe me, that meathead, he’s one of those fellas who lives off of violence. I’ve seen him punch out at least two other Lieutenants since the occupation. He should’ve been court martialled months ago for disobeying orders and now that bloody bugger of a Major slaps him down on our doorstep? What is this, punishment for what happened to Lane?”
I was about to answer when a noise from the cell stole my attention. Turner was groaning, his hands pressed up to his face again. Immediately I leapt up and grabbed the bars, peering down at him.
“Turner! Hey, Turner! Can you hear me?”
“Nggghhhhhhh,” Turner said, rolling onto his side. I squeezed the bars tight, then I cursed and snatched up the key and unlocked the cell door. Carefully I stepped inside, moving around behind him and pausing there for a moment.
“Turner, are you awake? Do you know where you are?” The groaning stopped and his hands fell away and he twisted his head towards me, staring up with a pained expression. He seemed to struggle to focus, his eyes pinching. “Turner, do you understand me?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice crackling as if he were an eighty-year-old man with a bad chest. I slumped a little, releasing a long, drawn-out breath.
“Do you remember what happened?”
“Where the hell am I?” Turner planted a palm against the wall and strained to pick himself up off the floor, but he only managed about three inches. I squatted next to him and tucked my hand under his armpit, helping him to sit up. When he glanced around, I saw the fear take hold. “Oh, bloody fuck. What did I do?”
“That’s what I need to find out,” I told him. “What do you remember from last night?”
“Shit. Not much.” He pushed a fist against his forehead and grimaced. “God, it feels like there’s a hundred ants crawling around in there. Jesus, is my nose broken? It feels like it’s broken.”
“Okay,” I sighed. “Let’s start with what you do remember. You took one of the cars and drove out of town in the afternoon.”
“Right, yeah. The Major wanted some supplies, so I went to Kungsbrucken to stock up.” He smacked his lips and coughed. “Could I get some water?”
“Course, hang on.” I decided to lock the cell while I fetched some water from the outside tap. Turner didn’t look in any state to run and he’d probably get no further than the town square if he did somehow get past us both, but I didn’t want to take any chances. When I returned, he was still sat on the ground, staring into space. He knocked back the water in one gulp and thanked me.
“I decided to have a quick drink in one of the old bars there,” he continued. “Before heading back. But I guess I ended up staying a while longer than expected. I met this local girl, really stunning. She came and sat beside me and we got talking. She said she always wanted to make love with a British soldier.” He smiled, scratching his cheek and staring sheepishly down at his boots. “Who could possibly refuse that kind of offer, right?”
“So you went back to hers?”
“Yeah, we drank some more, we fooled around. That’s the last thing I really remember before waking up in this place.” He shivered and rubbed his own shoulders. “So what happened? Tell me I didn’t do anything too stupid.”
“You were in a bit of a state, aye.” Right then I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he nearly ran me over before trying to drown himself, but I figured he’d hear all about it soon enough. For now, I decided to focus on filling in the blanks. “You looked like you might have taken something a bit stronger than booze,” I said. Turner glanced at his hands, which were trembling slightly.
“It’s possible, I suppose. My mind is just…it’s all just blank. Maybe the girl slipped something into my drink, I don’t know.”
“Okay, so tell me about the girl. You remember where she lived, what her name was?” Turner frowned and shook his head.
“I really don’t. She was quite tall, long black hair, pretty. I wasn’t really paying any attention when we drove back to hers. I was just concentrating on not slamming the car into any walls.”
“And you don’t remember driving home after leaving her place?”
“No…” His eyes glazed over and I had to stop myself from reaching out and shaking him hard. Instead, I bit my tongue and tried some gentle prodding to see if I could get him on track.
“So you don’t remember driving up to the lake and jumping straight in?” I asked. His brow furrowed and he stared back silently.
“Shit,” he finally whispered. “I was really out of it.” I let out a sigh.
“This is going to be harder than I thought,” I said as I dropped onto my arse and crossed my legs, trying to work out if he was lying through his teeth. If this memory loss really was bollocks, the guy deserved to be in the movies. He looked genuinely concerned and rightly so. But the worst was still to come. “There’s something else,” I said and the wrinkles of concern deepened.
“What now? Did I try and throw myself off a cliff too?”
“We found a body last night,” I said, suddenly craving another fag. My hand even moved subconsciously to my pocket, my fingertips fumbling at the air inside before I remembered losing every last one to Shaw the night before. “A girl, out in the woods at the edge of town.”
“Bloody hell. I didn’t run her down, did I? I really can’t remember driving back.”
“We’re looking into it, but there’s something you should know.” I fished in another pocket and brought out the golden eagle. The thing was smooth and cold against my palm and I held it out to him, keeping a close watch for his reaction. At first he seemed confused, until he reached into his own jacket and fumbled around. Then realisation dawned.
“That’s my lucky eagle,” he said, cautiously reaching out and taking the thing. He stared down at it, probably wondering if he really wanted to ask the obvious question. Finally he cleared his throat and came out with it. “Where did you find it?”
“Side of the road, halfway through the woods.” I was tense as hell, but there was no avoiding it. I had to tell him. “It was lying about fifty feet away from the dead girl’s body.” Now I could see the fear in his eyes, real for sure. No way to fake that. The same fear a man has when he knows he’s dying and there’s nothing he can do to change it.
“Fuck.” He shook his head, clenching his fist around the eagle. “I can’t have done it, no. How could I do something like that and not even remember it?” He dropped his face into his hands, the eagle clattering across the stone floor and coming to rest by his foot. I didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t understand it either, but I was there when he slammed his car into that rock, when he staggered out crazed and tried to attack his comrades, before throw
ing himself into that ice cold water. For that moment he’d been reduced to an animal, wild and frenzied.
For a while we just sat there, Turner rocking back and forth and me watching him silently. Then he just stopped. Slowly his head came up and I swear the colour had dropped right out of his face. This spectre of a man looked at me and said:
“Oh, fuck. I remember her.”
“What?” I leaned closer, heart pounding. “What do you remember?”
“She had curly hair, golden yellow. And she was wearing a red coat.” His eyes welled up and he started to tremble. “Fucking hell, she was dead. I was standing there, looking into her eyes and she was fucking dead. Oh god, did I do it? Did I really kill her?”
“What did you do to her?” I asked, my voice rising. “Turner, look at me! What did you do to her?” He seemed to be staring right through me, his mouth dangling open.
“I don’t know,” he finally muttered. “I think I grabbed her. I don’t know, I don’t fucking know!” Suddenly he launched himself against the wall and kicked his way up to his feet, smashing his fist against the bricks and screaming at the top of his lungs. I jerked away from him, stumbling back up and pushing into the far corner. “Fuck,” he yelled, lashing out at the wall over and over. By the fifth punch, his knuckles had left a bloody smear across the surface. I cursed and lunged at him, grabbing his shoulders to pull him back, but he twisted out of my grasp and knocked me away with his elbow. When he stared at me, I recognised the look in his eyes. It was the look of a wild, cornered animal, the same horrified expression he wore the night before as he lunged at me from the car. For a second I thought he was about to pounce, but he just stood there, panting and shaking his head.
“Turner-” I started, but he cut me off.
“What if I did it? What if I killed her?” He stared down at his hands and whimpered and that was the moment I thought it was all over. I released a long, exhausted breath and took three steps to the door, swinging it open and locking it behind me. Inside, Turner took one look at me and then slumped back into his corner, burying his head between his legs.
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