by Jacob Rayne
Alfred moved in, heading for a thick chain which was connected to a metal ring on the wall.
Luke kicked out at him as he fastened the chain around his ankle.
Alfred grunted in pain as Luke’s foot slammed his fingers up against the heavy metal chain. He sunk his foot into the damaged part of Luke’s stomach, then, as Luke writhed in agony, quickly looped the chain through the ring and fastened a heavy padlock onto it.
Luke sat up, blood seeping through the fingers of the hand that clutched his stomach. He pulled forward, but the chain clanked and stopped his progress towards the clown.
Alfred tutted.
‘Say hello to your sister for me,’ the clown said, laughing. He turned to Dave, said, ‘The money is in an envelope in the garage. Remember to burn the fucking place down when you’re through with him. And make sure it hurts.’
Chapter 148
Dave nodded to the other two lads and they all stepped closer. Dave held a baseball bat. Charlie had a length of thick chain and Stan held a kitchen knife.
Luke staggered to his feet and lunged at the clown. Again the chain prevented his progress.
Stan moved in, but Luke’s fist caught him flush on the jaw and separated him from consciousness.
Luke’s other fist came round towards Charlie’s face, but Dave intercepted with a swing of the baseball bat.
The bat shattered Luke’s left cheek in a sickening wave of pain. One of Luke’s teeth came out with a rush of blood.
His legs wobbled.
The metal chain clashed against the back of his head. It was more annoying than painful but he was still disoriented as a result of the blow from the bat.
In slow motion he saw the bat fly towards his head again. It caught him on the side of the neck and made him stumble.
He felt like he had just stepped off a waltzer.
His legs betrayed him, dropping him on the floor. He fought to get back to his feet, but his coordination was shot to shit and he stumbled and landed on his back.
Through his blurred vision he saw the clown waiting at the foot of the stairs, watching the proceedings with fascination. Kate was draped over his shoulder. He grinned as Dave moved towards Luke, the bloody baseball bat in his hands.
‘Nice to see you again, freak,’ Dave beamed.
Luke squirmed, but Charlie pinned him by planting a foot on his chest.
Dave raised the bat above his head. Luke tried to roll out from under Charlie’s foot, but his energy was leaving his body with his blood.
The bat blotted out the light as it began its descent.
Chapter 149
A sudden roar flashed through Luke’s ravaged ears. Through the haze of pain and adrenaline he failed to realise what it was until Dave pitched forwards, a growing red patch on the chest of his white hoody.
Dave hit the deck, already beginning his journey towards death.
The roaring sound came again and again. Charlie fell, a number of bleeding holes in his torso and legs.
Luke looked to the source of the sounds and saw Hirst at the bottom of the stairs, a gun in his hands, his face etched in a sickly grin.
He reloaded the gun in one smooth motion then fired another burst.
The clown fell, the back of his head a crater that vomited gore. His mouth poured with blood, adding crimson to the unsettling black grin painted onto his features. His eyes had already taken on the glaze that Luke recognised from his many victims.
Kate screamed, doubly taken aback by this fresh carnage. Being abducted by the masked man and taken to the clown was one thing, but seeing three men gunned down in vivid gory detail was quite another.
She curled up in a ball, her hands clamped to her ears, her eyes tightly closed.
Hirst ignored the terrified girl and ran to Luke.
‘I’ve been watching out for you,’ he said. ‘So you could punish the bastards who ruined our lives.’
Luke nodded, his face contorted with the pain from his wounds.
‘Who’s the girl? Is she part of this?’
‘The bitch who set me up.’
Hirst’s face darkened. ‘The one who caused all of this?’
Luke nodded.
Hirst moved over to her. She still sobbed, her face covered by her knees which she had drawn up to her chest. He pressed the gun barrel against the crown of her head.
‘You caused all of this,’ he said, his voice so quiet that Luke could barely hear it. The roar of the gun blast was deafening in contrast.
A huge bleeding hole appeared in her head. Luke marvelled at the sight of all the blood.
Hirst watched her bleed out, similarly captivated. Then, his face grave, he sighed and approached Luke.
‘I’m so sorry to have to do this, Luke. I know you’ve been through hell. And I’m grateful for your part in bringing my son’s attackers the justice they deserved. But I can’t help feeling that you’re to blame for all of this.’
Luke stared at him, incredulous.
‘After all,’ Hirst continued. ‘If you hadn’t been attacked by the gang, my son wouldn’t have gotten involved and would never have been crippled. He’d still be alive if it wasn’t for what happened that night.’ He wiped a tear from his eye. ‘I thought I could come to terms with your part in all of this, but I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t.’
He pressed the barrel against Luke’s temple. ‘Please forgive me.’ Luke tried to struggle, but the desertion of his blood had left him weak. Hirst’s grip on him was too tight. He repeated, ‘Please forgive me,’ and pulled the trigger.
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The gun issued a dry click that seemed pathetic compared to the roar of the gunshot that both men were expecting.
While Hirst spent a moment figuring out what had happened, Luke gulped in air, desperately trying to summon the energy to defend himself.
‘You know what,’ Hirst said after an eternity. ‘I’m glad the gun is empty. You don’t deserve to die like that. You deserve to choose your own fate. You’re probably bleeding to death and I’m going to burn this place to the ground just before I leave.’ He handed Luke the gun and a single bullet and quickly demonstrated how to load the weapon. ‘If you want to put yourself out of your misery, then go ahead. I won’t have your blood on my hands.’
Hirst stood up, back-handing tears from his eyes, and made his way to the stairs.
There were a few cans of petrol in the corridor just above the stairs, supplies brought by the gang so they could obey Alfred’s instructions.
He knew it wouldn’t be long until the gunshots were reported so he ran through the house, slinging petrol around like a wedding guest going berserk with confetti.
He poured a good glug of it down the stairs into the basement, then lit it. The flames blossomed around him, casting everything in a hellish glow. The house was hell, no doubt about it. But he was on his way out.
He ran out of the house, hearing a solitary gunshot from the basement as he reached the car.
He said a brief prayer for Luke and, after pausing to admire the spectacular inferno for a second in his rear view mirror, pulled out of the grounds of the house.
Chapter 151
The police flooded into the grounds of Peth Vale, bringing our story full circle.
After extinguishing the blaze, the firemen went back into the house, finding more bodies in the basement. Though the corpses were charred and distorted, they were still recognisable.
Among the bodies, they found a gun, a shattered padlock and what looked like the skin of a female human being. The firemen blanched at the gruesome discovery.
In Hirst’s absence, Brent was the officer in charge. He realised that the bodies in the pool were those of the Marshton Eight.
Remembering what had happened on the night that Luke’s face had been tattooed, he identified Luke and Hirst as potential suspects. Either of them could have been responsible for the bloodbath.
He remembered that Hirst was the one who had broadcast the news of Luke Miller�
�s death after the riot at the asylum and reasoned that his colleague must have been helping Luke, leading the police investigation away from him while he murdered the gang that had wronged the both of them.
He got into his car and raced to Hirst’s place.
The house was in darkness, but he noticed an open window. Using his jacket sleeve to avoid getting his prints on the frame, he pried it open.
The house was quiet and had a deep, musty smell. He had an idea what the smell was, but didn’t want to believe it.
A rustling sound came from upstairs, making him pull his gun.
He crept up the stairs, pleased that the floorboards didn’t creak beneath his weight. The rustling continued.
At the top of the stairs, the smell intensified, becoming so strong that he gagged.
He moved cautiously into the room which had the open door.
A dim shape loomed out of the darkness.
He held his gun on it, waiting for it to move so he could send a round through its head.
The figure remained still.
‘Show me your hands,’ he commanded. The figure did not respond.
As he crept closer, he noticed that the figure was covered with a blood-soaked sheet.
He tore the sheet away to find himself staring at the rotting remains of Tom Hirst.
Chapter 152
Pieces of brain still clung to the kid’s face, while streaks of dried crimson indicated where the blood had ran down from the bullet-hole in his skull.
After what seemed like forever he averted his eyes from the bloodied corpse and made his way down the corridor.
There was a closed door, from behind which the rustling sound was emanating. He turned the handle and inched the door open.
‘You should never have set foot in here,’ a voice said from inside the room.
His eyes not yet adjusted to the gloom, he jolted.
Sergeant Hirst was hurriedly shoving clothes into a suitcase that sat on the bed.
‘Show me your hands, James,’ Brent shouted, aiming the gun at his colleague’s head.
‘You know, you’re partly to blame for all of this,’ Hirst said as he turned to face Brent. ‘If only you’d helped me when I asked for it, things may not have come to this.’
‘What?’
‘That fucking gang,’ he spat. ‘If you’d helped me to keep them off the streets then none of this would have happened. My son would still be a normal, happy teenager. And he’d still be alive.’
Brent didn’t know what to say. He genuinely felt sorry for his colleague and friend, but he refused to accept responsibility for all of this.
He would not be blamed for the actions of psychopaths.
‘I didn’t kill all of them,’ Hirst said. ‘Luke took out the gang. I just made sure nothing got in his way. When it looked like they were going to kill him, I took them out. Then I killed him and the girl, because it’s their fault this all happened.’
Brent was gobsmacked for a second. Hirst was right out of his fucking mind. ‘James, we need to get you some help,’ he began, trying to keep his tone sympathetic.
‘No,’ Hirst said, shaking his head vehemently. ‘I ain’t going to the nuthouse. You saw what they did to Luke in there. I ain’t ending up like that.’
‘You’re already in need of help, James,’ Brent said, taking proper note of his friend’s dirty, dishevelled appearance for the first time.
‘No, I’ve dealt with this the only way it could be dealt with. You can’t lock up people like Johnny T and Dave. The only thing these fuckers understand is violence. You have to play them at their own game and take it further than they will. Luke understood that. He was very astute that way.’
‘Please, James, let me get you the help you need.’
Hirst paused as though he was thinking about his colleague’s idea. In reality, he was edging his hand towards the gun that sat behind him on the bed.
Brent was occupied with Hirst’s plight and hadn’t noticed his hand sneaking behind his back.
‘I don’t need fucking help,’ Hirst bellowed, his face taking on a beetroot colour.
Brent noticed the fact that Hirst’s hand was behind him. ‘I really don’t want to shoot you, James,’ he warned. ‘But I will if you give me reason to believe you’re going for a weapon.’
Hirst’s eyes seemed to be staring into the corridor beyond him. Brent figured it was a trick to get him to turn away so that he could safely go for his gun.
A second later, Brent regretted his lack of awareness, as a blade plunged through his back, coming out of his stomach in a shower of blood.
The few inches of steel that poked through Brent’s stomach glistened with dark blood.
The blade ripped up, opening Brent from navel to sternum. Blood and slick ropes of intestine cascaded down onto the carpet.
Brent pitched forward, his mouth moving silently as though protesting the unfairness of it all.
Chapter 153
Hirst was awestruck at the brutality of the murder he’d just witnessed.
He immediately thought of two people capable of such a bloodthirsty act and, to the best of his knowledge, both of them were dead.
He was further bewildered when a familiar, scarred face stepped into view.
‘Shot the padlock off,’ Luke explained, grinning.
Hirst was speechless.
‘Before you put a hole in my head with the gun that you’ve got on the bed there, consider what I have to say. It’s the least you can do after your spineless attempt at murdering me.’
Hirst blushed a little at this, despite his belief that Luke had been responsible for the state in which his son had ended up.
‘Your son committed a heroic act trying to save me. Not many people would do that. And, in my opinion, he would be pissed off that he was damaged trying to save my life only for you to kill me. It seems an insult to him, like his suffering was all for nothing.’
‘You’re right,’ Hirst sobbed. ‘This wasn’t your fault. And yes, he would be pissed off if I killed you.’
‘And, let’s not overlook the fact that we’re both guilty of multiple murders.’
Hirst cocked his head to one side.
‘So, really, the best thing for us to do is to get out of here. Two heads are better than one.’
Hirst nodded and closed the suitcase. ‘You got a passport?’ he asked Luke.
‘Yeah, at Norma’s.’
After stopping at Norma’s for Luke’s passport, Hirst drove just below the speed limit, wanting to look as unassuming as possible.
When he reached the edge of town without being stopped, he pulled over and they dumped Louie in a ditch by the roadside.
A few miles outside of Marshton, he called in Louie’s location.
‘That should give us a bit of breathing room, but it won’t be long before they figure out what’s happened,’ he said.
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Louie groaned as he tried to drag himself to his feet. His damaged leg was still oozing blood and he felt sure he’d picked up some skin-rotting infection from the filthy water in the ditch.
He could already hear sirens in the distance which gave him the feeling that Hirst had set him up.
‘Bastard,’ he muttered. His breath came in ragged bursts with the effort of dragging himself out of the ditch and across the field that led towards home.
In the distance, a huge black column of smoke wound its way up to the heavens. Flames lit up the night sky around the house on the hill.
The sirens became deafening and a spotlight stung his eyes as it flooded the dark field with light.
‘Turn around slowly,’ a gruff voice told him.
He knew he was fucked. His leg was severely slowing him down.
He could see a large group of cops heading into the field after him.
With his reduced mobility there was no way he was outrunning anyone. He let out a cry of frustration and raised his hands as he turned.
The nearest cop slammed the
butt of his gun into Louie’s temple, sapping the meagre strength that remained in his legs. He collapsed in the wet grass.
The cop made him cry out in pain as he roughly bent his arm up his back. He read Louie his rights and started walking him back to one of the police cars.
‘It wasn’t me,’ Louie insisted. ‘It was Tom Hirst’s father and some other guy.’
The cop scoffed at the idea of Hirst being a killer. ‘Sergeant Hirst’s a hero, son, don’t you be talking shit about him, y’hear me?’
Louie continued his protests until the cop slammed a fist into the base of his skull and began dragging his limp body to the car.
Chapter 155
When Hirst and Luke were far away from Marshton, Hirst stopped and punched directions to the nearest airport into his sat nav.
He and Luke boarded the next plane, not caring where it went, only that it was far from England, far from the memories that plagued them.
In their new home in the Spanish sun, it was as though an immense weight had been lifted from their souls.
The past was behind them.
The guilty had paid for their crimes.
Hirst had photos of his son to remind him of all the good times they had shared.
Luke had photos of Bryony and his family.
The solution was ideal; Luke was in need of a father figure, Hirst in need of a son.
The future was a blank slate, ready for them to make their mark.
For both of them, the nightmare was over.
Bonus
Read on for a taster of The Lazarus Contagion, the next Rayne of Terror release.
I: Integration
