No Mercy

by J. T. Brindle

  ‘Did you like touching me, Johnny?’ The whisper rose above the other sounds – rustling, hurried sounds, amidst a flurry of movement.

  ‘Yes. But… I would really like to touch your face. May I… soon?’ Suddenly, he felt so alone.

  ‘No. I don’t think so.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Anger now. ‘Don’t forget what I told you!’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to question you.’

  ‘The keys! Have you brought me the keys, Johnny?’

  ‘I…’

  ‘Have you brought me the keys?’

  ‘I tried. Honest, I tried… I looked everywhere.’

  ‘Are you saying you failed me, Johnny?’

  ‘I think I know where they are.’

  ‘But you failed me. I am disappointed, Johnny.’

  ‘In the big room. In the box… on top of the mantelpiece.’ He was frantic. He had never heard his ‘friend’ so angry. ‘That’s where they are. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘I did warn you not to fail me, Johnny.’

  ‘I looked everywhere! I searched the outhouse… the kitchen and the bedrooms. I crept into Ellie’s room and went through all her things. They weren’t there. They must be in the box… on the mantelpiece, but, I’m not big enough… I can’t get the chair there… someone will see me. You’ll have to go into the house… at night. When everybody’s asleep.’ A sob caught in his throat. The perfume was suffocating him. It seemed to be wrapping itself round his whole body. Suddenly, he was cold; bitterly cold, and shaking from head to toe. He wanted to run from that place. But the perfume was filling his head. It was uniquely pleasant.

  ‘I can’t forgive you, you know that, don’t you, Johnny?’

  ‘Yes.’ The game would not permit it.

  ‘I don’t want to… hurt you.’

  ‘No… please… don’t.’ Terror began to press up inside him. He tried to push it down. Instead it grew. Consuming him. ‘Be quiet, Johnny,’ he whispered inside himself, ‘it’s only a game.’ But, in his fearful heart, he knew that, this time, it was no game.

  ‘You do realise I shall have to punish you?’

  He could not answer. His tongue was thick in his throat. He was paralysed with fear.

  ‘I can show you… no mercy. You do understand that, don’t you, Johnny?’

  What happened next sealed Johnny’s fate. The creeping fear swelled up inside him, flooding every corner of his being. He could not speak, could not breathe. In his mind, the words towered like dark executioners…‘No mercy’. A mountainous dam burst inside his head, rushing all reason before it, drowning all caution. With an agonised cry he slewed round! ‘Don’t hurt me!’ he pleaded. In that fatal split second, he saw. He saw. ‘You!’ Astonishment coursed through him. Riveting shock lit up his big round eyes like two brilliant blue pools. ‘YOU!’ Incredulous, he instinctively began to back away. Faster, faster, stumbling, mortally afraid, his heart pounding, yet not beating at all. In the dark, he could hear the soft, insane laughter. The pad of footsteps. Deliberate. Pursuing. Now, he was running, blindly, desperate in the belief that if he did not make it to the door, he would never again see the light of day. Behind him, the laughter permeated the air. In the darker distance the voice, not whispering now, but soft, threatening. Unbelievably familiar. ‘You should not have looked, Johnny! Now, it’s too late, but… I could never have spared you. Not you. Not them. None of you can be spared. You do understand that, don’t you, Johnny?’ The voice was too close. In the silent chaos of his mind, the boy was screaming. Now, he could see the door, only an arm’s reach away. In his excitement he fell, his fingers scratching the ground, his legs like jelly. Must get up… get away! He was crying now, hot bitter tears filling his mouth, blurring his vision.

  ‘Go away! Leave me be!’ On his feet now, he bolted towards the door.

  ‘I can’t do that, Johnny. You know I can’t do that.’ A harder edge to the voice. Fury. Revenge. Sounds of shifting debris underfoot. Slipping. Tumbling. ‘You won’t escape me, Johnny!’ Frantic now. Close. Too close. ‘There’s no place you can hide. I know every inch of the spinney… all of its secrets. I know the house, too, Johnny… better than anyone!’

  Bursting through the door, the boy ran and ran. The voice followed him. ‘Nowhere to hide, Johnny… I’ll find you… find you.’

  Violently trembling, his mouth and throat squeezed dry and the blood in his veins like clotted ice, Johnny went on blindly, instincts taking over, and all sense of reason submerged. He had to hide! Hide. HIDE. Into the bonfire he went. Deep and deeper, right into the heart of that slumbering terramorphous structure. Created by his own hands, it opened to receive him, persuading him deeper. Down. Down. Into the very bowels of its existence. The small, terrified figure crawled on all fours, feeling its way through the inner arteries. In his wake, all that had been disturbed closed in again. He was safe. Oh, how he wished Ellie was here. Sometimes, he wanted to hurt her, and he did hurt her, he knew that. But almost every time he was sorry. He did love Ellie, better than anyone. She was his friend. Not the other one. Not now.

  From behind, the sound of settling objects came to him like soft, comforting sighs. In the pitch-black he pressed forward, momentarily disorientated. He paused. Hot and trembling, with his back crooked, he listened. All around him the debris heaved, shifting, sighing. Deeper into the labyrinth he went. Small, groping fingers felt the way, tracing the earth contours, searching. Ah! There. The ground opened. Quietly, thankfully, he slid into its depths. Enfolding. Suffocating. But safe. Safe at last.

  Above, seated high on its pinnacle, the figure remained still and regal, monarch of all it surveyed. In the moonlight, ragged pieces of vapoury cloud drifted lazily, creating shadows, bringing the earth to life. Two brown button eyes seemed to twinkle and a face, so long devoid of life, might be smiling. Watching.

  Below, all was still and silent. Save for a lone, sinister figure that came forward now, closer, a look of satisfaction on its face. A low, evil chuckle, then, ‘You did not fail me after all, Johnny.’ Soft and pleading, the voice went on, ‘But you mustn’t be afraid… you are not alone. Not now, because…’ Eyes raised, admiring yet stiffly accusing. ‘She is with you.’ Pain. Oh, so much pain. Then, anger. ‘She is so wicked, Johnny, but, so very beautiful, don’t you think?’ The softest of laughter. ‘The sandcastle. Do you remember the sandcastle, Johnny? Oh, but of course you do! How could you forget? And here you have recreated it so magnificently. It’s yours, Johnny. And hers. It’s only justice that the two of you should find that sandcastle again… feel the same joy that you felt then. But afterwards… oh, after you have experienced such joy, it must all end. You, Johnny… both of you must pay the ultimate price. Later… the others also will be made to suffer. It has to be that way. You do understand, don’t you, Johnny?’ The grating sound alarmed the stillness, and at once there was a flicker of light. The flame fluttered in the breeze, held too long. Mesmerised. Fingers burned, a whisper of pain. But no panic. No sensation now, other than a deep-down satisfaction. And a mad, almost unbearable halcyon of pleasure. Quickly, another flame, yellow and gyrating in the blackness. The figure leaned down, choosing the point of ignition most carefully. The fire must not rage away too quickly, nor be detected by anyone for a while yet. A few moments. A few, precious moments, that was all. Now, it was done. The sound of a lullaby softly sung, while long, strong fingers dipped into pockets and drew out the dried lavender petals. When they fluttered down into the pyre, the singing intensified. Then, the voice broke. Tears came. But no regret. No mercy. Swiftly, the figure went into the night, into the darkness, where plans were best made. Plans. Lots to do. It was not finished yet. Not yet. Not until the very last one!

  ‘But… where’s Johnny?’ On hearing her father come into the house, Ellie had rushed from the big room and into the kitchen, where Jack Armstrong was already taking off his muddied boots. ‘It’s almost seven o’clock!’

  ‘You mean he hasn’t come back yet?’ Jack
Armstrong looked up, his brow furrowed with anger. Frustrated, he told her, ‘That’s it! The minute he comes in, he’s straight off to bed!’

  Regretting her impatient remarks, Ellie tried desperately to make amends. ‘I expect he’s still scavenging for the bonfire… lost all track of time. He’ll be home any minute, I’m sure.’ But she was worried, and furious with her brother. It was as though he deliberately set out to antagonise his father.

  ‘It’s time he was taught a lesson.’ Jack Armstrong eased his feet into the flat brogue shoes and straightened his back with a groan. Dark blue eyes, brilliant and accusing, stared hard at Ellie. ‘He’s a selfish, wicked little bugger!’ The words spat out. ‘We both know that, only we’ve given him the benefit of the doubt, because… well, because…’ He wiped the back of his hand over his face. He was sweating. Uncomfortable. ‘He doesn’t care a sod for anybody but himself! Look at me!’ he snapped, throwing his arms wide to reveal the scratches on his neck and hands, ‘grovelling through the undergrowth like some bloody animal! He was there… I know he was there. Probably watching from a distance… laughing. Time and again I called after him, but… devious little devil… he toyed with me. Like he was playing some bloody game!’

  ‘Are you sure it was him?’ Ellie knew that the boy was capable of being so spiteful. And her father was right. They had let him get away with it for too long. She loved him, though. How could she help it, he was her brother after all.

  ‘Of course I’m sure!’

  ‘Look… you go and run a bath. I’ll get you something to eat. If he’s not back soon, me and Barny will go and look for him.’

  ‘He got back all right, then?’ There was an element of surprise in his voice.

  ‘He did.’ Ellie gave a small laugh, but her expression was reprimanding as she told her father, ‘No thanks to you, though.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ she retorted, the smile gone from her face, ‘deserting him… in the dark… down by the lake.’

  ‘Oh.’ His features crumpled into a satisfied smile. ‘So, he told you, did he?… came running to you like a little lost boy. Afraid of the dark, was he?’

  For a moment, Ellie was taken aback by the underlying savagery in his voice. ‘No. He did not. As a matter of fact, I had to drag it out of him. I might have guessed, though… when he came back without you.’ Shades of bitterness coloured her thinking. She had not forgotten how it used to be. In the past, whenever some young man showed an interest in her, her father had done his level best to deter him; even resorting to underhand tricks and incursive comments, much the same as now.

  ‘He told you why I left him, did he?’

  ‘Yes. He said you went after Johnny.’

  ‘There you are, then. And I tell you what, Ellie… if I’d caught the bugger, he would have felt the flat of my hand across his legs and no mistake!’ He shook his head and lapsed into deep thought. ‘Honestly, Ellie, I don’t know what we’re going to do with the boy. I don’t mind telling you, he’s beyond me, and that’s a fact.’ He brushed past Ellie. ‘As for Barny, well… it wasn’t meant. I’m sorry. To be honest, I’d rather see you wed him than some others I could mention.’ He turned and kissed her on the forehead. ‘Friends, are we?’

  Ellie nodded. She felt the need to put her father straight on a particular matter, before it all got out of hand. ‘Don’t be so quick to marry me off,’ she warned, ‘not to Barny, or to… anyone else for that matter.’ Alec Harman sprang to her mind; handsome, dark-eyed Alec Harman, who was never far from her thoughts. Or from her heart. Yet she loathed him. Didn’t she?

  ‘Oh!’ Jack Armstrong could not disguise his pleasure at Ellie’s words. ‘I see.’ He nodded his head approvingly. ‘Quite right. You’re far too young to get serious, sweetheart. Play the field… enjoy life before you tie yourself down.’ A strange and distant look clouded his eyes as he murmured, ‘Sometimes we make a wrong decision, and have to go on paying for it… willing and praying that it will all come right in the end. But, it never does.’ Realising that Ellie was watching him curiously, he gave a nervous laugh. ‘Still… it doesn’t do any good crying over it, does it, eh? What’s done is done, isn’t that right?’

  ‘Yes, Dad.’ Ellie was convinced that he was reflecting on her mother, and the possibility that he had failed her – failed all of them. Or, he was regretting the move to Thornton Place. On both counts she believed that he had done the right and only thing. To her mind, he had been a good husband and a good father. There was no earthly reason why he should ever reproach himself; unless it was on the issue of his fraught relationship with Johnny. But then, at times the boy tried even her to the limit. ‘We mustn’t dwell in the past. There are better times ahead,’ Ellie promised, ‘we have to look forward… to the future.’

  ‘The future?’ Something akin to scorn crept into his expression. ‘Yes, you’re right, sweetheart.’ He spread his fingertips into her hair and ruffled it the way he used to when she was small. ‘If only your brother was more like you,’ he said in a tight, emotional voice.

  ‘Give him time, Dad,’ Ellie pleaded, ‘just a little more time.’

  He made no response, other than to gaze at her through sorry eyes. In a moment he had turned away, going from the room with bowed shoulders.

  ‘You’ll feel better after a hot bath,’ Ellie called after him, ‘meanwhile, I’ll get you a bite to eat.’ After that, she intended to recruit Barny to help find the boy. And when she did find him, he would get the length of her tongue, and no mistake!

  When Ellie came into the big room where she had left Rosie and Barny merrily chatting, Barny was the first to address her. ‘I hope you didn’t make too much of your father going off the way he did,’ he told Ellie. ‘Did he find the boy?’

  ‘Afraid not,’ she said, looking from Barny to Rosie, who was finishing off the dregs in her tea cup. ‘Dad’s upstairs… having a hot bath. I’m just about to make him some sandwiches, then I intend to find Johnny…’

  ‘Not without me!’ Barny assured her. ‘Like I told your father… two pairs of eyes are better than one.’ Suddenly, the pit of his stomach was curling over with that same uncomfortable feeling he had experienced earlier. For no reason he could truly fathom, he was afraid for Ellie. ‘Besides,’ he said in a stern voice, ‘I’m not about to let you wander the night on your own.’

  ‘There you are, you lucky thing,’ Rosie chuckled. ‘Oh, what wouldn’t I give for a handsome young man to escort me on my way!’

  Ellie looked at Barny and they both laughed aloud. Smiling at Rosie, Barny told her in a flirting manner, ‘Never let it be said that I would ever allow a good-looking woman such as yourself to walk home unescorted. Whenever you’re ready… I’m at your disposal.’

  ‘Go on!’ Rosie chided good-humouredly; she had taken a real liking to Ellie’s young man. ‘You only want your wicked way with me!’ Her merry brown eyes glanced at the big old clock against the wall. ‘Good Lord!’ she cried, struggling from the chair and fighting to wedge the hard wooden crutch beneath her armpit. ‘I’ve been here almost an hour!’ In her frantic efforts to balance herself, she almost fell over.

  Barny sprang to his feet, steadying her and warning, ‘Take it easy, old girl… what’s the panic?’

  ‘George! I’ve left him alone for too long at once.’ She leaned into Barny’s strong, helping hands. ‘He sleeps most of the time, but if he wakes and finds me gone… the poor bugger won’t know what to do!’ she explained.

  Ellie understood. Holding the old woman by the arm, she said in a quiet, comforting voice, ‘He’ll be all right, Rosie. He’s sure to know where you are.’

  ‘But you don’t understand!’ Rosie was altogether composed now, but still greatly troubled. ‘He’s taken to… wandering off. If I’m not there to watch him, he sneaks out of bed… out of the cottage. Oh, he’s no idea what he’s doing, or where he’s going, but, well…’ She shook her head and looked beseechingly at Barny. ‘He’s ill, d’
you see… convinced in his poor, sick mind that some “awful devil” means to “root him out and do away with him”.’

  Barny was about to say how sorry he was, he had no idea. But, in the split second when he half turned his head to glance at Ellie, something distracted his attention. Through the window directly behind Ellie, the night sky was ablaze. ‘What the hell is that?’ He stretched his neck to see beyond the window.

  Curious, the two women followed his gaze. In that moment, Jack Armstrong came rushing into the room shouting, ‘It’s the bonfire! The bugger’s lit the bonfire!’ He gestured to Barny. ‘You come with me, Tyler,’ he ordered, then, looking at Ellie, he said, ‘take Rosie home, sweetheart. We’ll find the boy, but first that fire has to be watched… controlled.’ His mood was dark as he and Barny left the house. ‘The little sod!’ he called back to Ellie, ‘if this is his idea of a game…’

  ‘Don’t let your temper get the better of you,’ Ellie shouted. But he was gone.

  ‘What’s wrong with Johnny, Ellie?’ Rosie wanted to know, as she and Ellie negotiated the path to the cottage. ‘Has he always had a streak of… rebellion in him?’ She was tempted to say ‘wickedness’, but thought too kindly of Ellie to hurt her. As for Johnny, surely to God he must have some saving grace?