“This torture you must endure....all the pain and sleepless nightmares and dreams that infest deep within in your mind...they will continue, oh yes they will continue. This is not the end of our tale my dear Warden...merely the beginning of our story....so rest up these mere scratches and cuts because I will say when you shall die....for you will be my final victim I promise you this...but dear Warden...not today.... not today.” I chuckled as I turned from him and walked into the night finally free....
Finally free.....
Chapter Seven: Mallows
Sam Mallows placed the phone back down....his old wrinkled hands showing the signs of ‘a lived life’, but the bags under his eyes portrayed a different kind of man. This was the face of a man who had been to hell and back....looked the devil square in the face and somehow survived, the devil being Hal the Dark Poet...if the devil had a human face then surely it was that one.
It had been so many years ago since their last meeting...one that ended with Sam injuring and catching Hal, which saw him being locked away deep within the walls of the Misty Eyes Asylum. Sam was an old detective...now coming close to the final stretch before retirement reared it’s ugly face at him, and he knew a life of catching criminals was in no way the same league of catching greenfly in the garden or fading away upon the links of a golf course...
But something was eating away at him...from the inside out, the recent murders within the borders of Norwich had been so familiar...very much like the handiwork of Hal himself, but he was locked tight away in Misty Eyes...so either he has an accomplice or it was a copycat freak trying to try the big man’s shoes on and take over his role as devil...
Sam sat down in the old comfy seat he bought some twenty years ago...lifting the glass of whisky to his lips whilst flicking through the daily newspaper.... ‘Still no new leads to the recent killings in Norwich’ read the headline. Sam knew if there was any chance in catching this new killer than the answer lay with Hal...this freak knew Hal’s methods of killing and torture...so surely the answer lay with him.
Sam’s mind flickered back to the crime scenes...the images embedded firmly within his mind.....dead bodies piled up all throats slit as the blood flowed like a stream between the piles...all dark and red, and upon the wall written in the very blood that flowed like a river was a simple message ‘ Let the river’s flow and wash the sins away....The Dark Poet returns today.’
Crude but unconvincing to Sam, he knew Hal was a much more ingenious criminal...this was the copycat’s first mistake...Hal was not this sloppy or ego-driven, his killings had some meaning to him or something to do with his life, these recent killings had been all ego-driven by this ‘false king to the throne’...he or she had tried to eradicate the memory of Hal, and replace the Dark Poet in the image of their making.
Sam sipped another shot of whisky as the silence of a new day was broken by the dull noise of the telephone upon the coffee table beside him. He placed the newspaper upon the table....picked up the phone and softly spoke into it.
“Hello...Sam Mallows here, how can I help you?” Sam spoke, a familiar voice replied...a voice from his past.
“Hi Sam, it’s Patrick how you doing boss...I hope you keeping well my friend.”.... Pat hadn’t spoke to Sam since his heart attack a few years ago...the same heart attack after the final confrontation with Hal, that had sent him crashing in a hole he had crawled from....a deep hole of depression that still lingered in the back of his mind...
“Hi Pat....it’s been a while, I hear you made detective...good for you!, I always knew you had it in you to be a damn good detective.” Sam replied with the taste of bitterness upon his lips....good he thought but still made too many errors and stupid mistakes.
“I had a good teacher boss.” Patrick replied.
Sam knew this was bullshit...bullshit of the highest order, he knew that Patrick never ever listened to a word that he tried to tell him...the boy was too hot headed and rushed into decisions....but the one thing that fucking drove him crazy about Pat was that he was what was known as an ‘arse-kisser’....sucking up to the bigwigs and that’s how he got promotion...nothing more...nothing less.
“That’s kind of you to say....but you got there by your own merit as well too Patrick.” replied Sam, feeding bullshit already onto Patrick’s bullshit.
“There is a reason why I am phoning too....it’s been kept out of the papers and new’s reports on the tv...but....we got a situation and we need your help.” softly spoked Pat......Sam heard the trembling patter within his voice.....he was afraid...afraid of something....or someone.
“Tell me Pat....what’s wrong?” Sam asked him...
“Sam.....oh god....It’s him.....he has escaped Misty Eyes Asylum....the Dark Poet has escaped.” came the reply from the other side of the phone....Sam kept quiet for a moment.....then spoke softly.
“Ok....so what are we going do about this then? Sam asked.
“Meet me at Misty Eyes Asylum...please boss...I need your help.” replied Patrick.
Sam put down the phone....a feeling of dread entered his mind, if the Dark Poet had escaped then he must be on two possible courses of action....the first was that he realised something had happen in his absence or two that he was on a course of revenge....knowing oh too well that he would be a target, as he was the man who finally captured him...but there were other people who would also be on his hit-list.
Sam raised himself from the chair, knowing that the drive to the Asylum would be a long one as he had drunk a couple glasses of whisky, and he knew he was on the limit to drive...but hell to it Sam thought, better to die at the wheel than at the hands of Hal.
He made his way out of the apartment that he called home, and proceeded towards the shabby looking car parked outside. A smear of rust lay flittered across the side panel, that hide the once royal blue colour but was nothing but a shade less than it’s original....but still got Sam from A to B, and back again.
Sam got into the car, and ignited the beast’s full fury as the engine spluttered into life, taking off the handbrake and began his journey towards the Misty Eyes Asylum....
The car trickled across the vast roads that led to the outskirts of Norwich, the harsh moorlands and fields of lavender all flashed past him. The strong fragrance of the lavender drifted into the car for Sam to inhale into his system, soon the car turned off from the main road onto a dusty side road which led towards the looming presence of the Misty Eyes Asylum.
The darkness of the night was broken by the glare of the flashing lights from the police cars and ambulances at the scene, the paramedics placing one body in the back of the one ambulance...whilst another team was administering medical attention to a ‘suited and booted’ gentleman upon the ground covered in glass where he lay.
Through the crowd of paramedics and young coppers was the young looking though brash Patrick Malley...no doubt now in charge of the crime scene and in Sam’s mind so out of depth....he was drowning and needed his help. Patrick spotted Sam’s car approach and shouted to one of the young coppers to allow him through to him.
Sam’s car pulled to a halt near the entrance to the Asylum, Sam got out of the car and immediately saw Pat walking towards him...wearing a cheesy grin upon his face, he reached out his hand to shake Sam’s and he shook it.
“I am glad you came Boss....I could do with your input with the case.” Pat replied in a needy way.
“Pat....I’m too old to be chasing this fucker again, I don’t mind consulting but this is a young man’s game now.” Sam replied as still the cheesy grin upon Pat’s face remained but seemed to widen.
“Yeah...yeah I know what you mean....that’s all I want from you as you know how this fuck thinks and works, that’s all I ask for is your input.” retorted Pat, as the two men walked towards the Asylum....
“There are two injured person’s and three dead bodies...of the dead there are 2 guards and one inmate, the injured parties are the guard that patrols the night shift and the Warden of the Asylum
....both will survive but will sustain long term injuries...the guard will need facial reconstruction as the Dark Poet cut his face off and used it upon his own to disguise himself as a guard, whilst tying up and deforming the guard in his cell.
The Warden looks to have been pushed through the window of his office....landing upon the grounds below, he will suffer I am told with a life long limp and severe pain in his leg.” explained Patrick as they both walked towards the cell that belonged to the Dark Poet.
As they approached the cell, they could see the splatters of blood across the walls and the pool of blood upon the floor of the cell. The smell of urine lay scattered upon the air within the cell as Sam took a deep breath inward...the poor bastard pissed himself as Hal stripped the skin off his face like removing the skin off a roast chicken...so swift and so definitely savage.
Sam looked around the cell...a normal bed...a wash area with sink and tap...a toilet...and a shelf filled with several magazines and novels of varying fiction and genres. One magazine caught his eye, the title was faded with age but the main headline was visible still ‘The Past Shall Return To Bite You’, what was weird was that it had been circled and the letters ‘SM’ had been written next to it.
Was this a message to him?
Or some kind of cryptic clue for Sam to find?
He quickly swiped the magazine from the shelf when Pat’s back was turned, and hid it in his jacket pocket for later...The two men finished examining the cell and continue further into the Asylum...
Chapter Eight: Following the Trail of Blood
The two men made their way towards the recreational area of the Asylum, and there lay the covered body of Festas as cold as the morning’s breath upon a new day. “This sick fucker was the last of the three dead victims...a scumbag named Festas known as the third little pig of the establishment, known scab and confident of the Warden. The other two were guards and from a statement from one of the wounded guards...these three entered Hal’s cell and beat him to a inch of his life....I guess payback was overdue.” explained Pat.
‘If he took out the three little pigs...was the Warden the Big Bad Wolf?’ thought Sam.... ‘and who was Goldilocks?’
“I will take a look at the body if that’s ok with you Pat?” Sam asked.
“Sure, knock yourself out Sam.” Pat replied.
Sam walked over to the sheet covering Festas’s cold stiff body, he removed the sheet slightly and peered beneath it. He examined the deep slice in the throat of Festas....smooth quick swipe no ifs and no buts...fast and furiously precise way to end a life. He replaced the sheet back over the dead body and returned to Patrick.
“The dead scab had visited the other wing to the Asylum, apparently to see a ‘psychic prisoner’ named Scouse, and he wishes to speak to us...apparently he knew you were coming.” replied Pat.
“Fucking shit, if you ask me....somebody sent him a message we were coming, and the freak wants his fifteen minutes of fame.” snarled Pat, who clearly was pissed off....but what surprised Sam was that he told nobody of his journey here to the Asylum, so who told the psychic?...was it a copper?...or another member of the Asylum like Pat had mentioned?
“I guess we could go see him...he might know a bit about the deaths...even some knowledge upon the attack upon Hal in his cell,” Sam asked Pat, who was wearing a thick frown upon his face.
“I suppose so...but don’t believe everything these freaks tell you...you gotta take it with a pinch of salt...just to find the sweetness within the sour.” replied Pat, as the two men started to venture towards the opposite wing of the Asylum and the lair of the Scouse.
The two men soon came to the entrance of the wing....where two brutes were awaiting them, one of them signalled towards them...
“The gaffer has instructed me to fetch you to him, he has information you seek and answers that you require.” the brute snarled towards Sam.
“Hey I am not allowing him to go alone....you will let us both go to see your boss.” retorted Pat.
The brute snarled and sent a white hot glare towards Pat’s direction....the kind that burnt a hole straight through him, he then growled towards Pat.
“You are lucky that the gaffer allowed you this far together...you would have been killed ages ago.” the brute growled.
“It’s ok Pat...just let me go with them....I won’t be long, trust me.” Sam softly spoke trying to calm the brute from ripping the head off Pat....though deep inside Sam he would enjoy it a bit too much.
“Ok then, follow me old man!” snarled the first brute, Sam followed him whilst the second brute stood keeping a watchful glare upon Patrick.
Sam and the first thug started towards the cell at the far end of the wing, Sam had a deep feeling of dread as they slowly made their way towards the cell door before them. The thug rapped upon the door....and a soft voice echoed from behind it for them to enter, the cell door was opened and there sat Scouse behind a table...he beckoned Sam to enter and sit opposite him on a chair nearby.
“Please be seated Mr Mallows....we have much to discuss, by now you would have seen the bloody trail you must follow, but I feel you have followed this path before am I right Sam?” asked the Scouse.
“If you have any information to the whereabouts of Hal, I suggest you tell me please...” Sam replied.
“My, my, my such manners for a retiring detective...was the job too much or was the special relationship with Hal too much for you to endure?” asked Scouse.
“None of your damn business....now are you gonna help or am I leaving?” quipped Sam, who was about to stand up and leave.
“Calm yourself Sam...calm yourself, we have much to discuss indeed. Tell me if you was Hal....where would you go?” asked Scouse.
“He would lay low...then probably look for revenge against those that put him away.” Sam replied as he watched a sly smile form upon Scouse’s face.
“Oh such secrets you two keep from each other...I see all and know all, yet there are some things I do not see Mr Mallows...some things are hidden amongst the shadows and some things are clear as the new day...but the path you two take is filled with blood and shadows.” explained Scouse.
“We have a history...yes I will agree upon that, but we do not walk the same path...I would follow his trail of breadcrumbs until I caught him and sent him here.” spoke Sam.
“Yes...he must really hate you for that...I mean rotting away for over ten years behind these walls whilst the world carried on...forgetting him and his deeds, but now he is free to help them remember now.” spoke Scouse who slightly chuckled as he said it.
“And then we must discuss the reasons behind the woman who visited him a couple of days ago...you see I know everything that happens in this place....every last detail.” explained Scouse.
“I know there have been murders...very much like Hal’s, and I may have informed him about such matters...but I believe he does not take kindly for an imposter taking the credit for his crimes....but I keep secrets too you see Sam...like knowing that you sent that pretty little thing in the lair of demons to find information out for you...now that begs the question why are you digging your own grave for the answers you will never find?” asked Scouse.
“What do you know?, and what is the benefits to you?” Sam asked.
“Well then...straight to the nitty gritty I see, I have been locked within these walls for many years and I have seen them come and seen them go, but never have I seen anyone like Hal. The man is truly a master in his craft and to me is the conductor to his own personal orchestra....the way he guides the music of death through his fingers...so swiftly and so masterful.” explained Scouse.
“There are many killers, and lots of murderers in the world Mr. Mallows, but none compare to the genius that is Hal...but with that degree of popularity...it kinda stifled my own notoriety and I was the number one villain around here before Hal appeared.” spoke Scouse.
“So you were jealous of him then?” Sam asked hesitantly towards Scouse.
&n
bsp; “Jealous?, no my dear Mr Mallows...I am not jealous of Hal, more a supporter of his special whims and desires. Like any tool they have a purpose within the world and I have mine.” replied Scouse.
“I see a lot in my visions...yet with you, I see nothing but darkness as you and Hal share a trail that will lead to final meeting, a trail of blood shall lead you to him...remember that Mr Mallows...follow the trail of blood.” softly spoke Scouse, as he beckoned Sam from his cell.
Sam left the cell and returned back towards Patrick, with the big brute walking close behind him. Pat’s face was a mixture of questions and answers but all unknown, and as Sam moved closer he knew that if he was gonna catch Hal, he was gonna have to keep some things close to his chest and some things from Patrick himself.
“What did he tell you?” asked Patrick itching to know every last detail of the conversation between Scouse and Sam.
Behind These Walls Page 6
