Little Red

by Justin Cairns

  ‘But, I just can’t see what drives them, I mean, they must have something missing which we have!’

  ‘Yeah,… a fucking heart and soul. Look, I know that this is an eye opener for you, but what you just told me then about the place where you live, it sounds like an ideal place to raise a child. Not all people are evil, a small percentage dwell and feed off the weak. I always said I would re-locate with Megan, give her the best upbringing possible, not only have I failed to do that but I have failed to protect her and her mother!’

  ‘What happened to your wife was out of your hands Richard, it’s a horrible feeling, I know, but some things we just can’t control!’

  ‘Well tonight is a night that we do control Nathan. Tonight we can take our own hate and resentment and force it onto the bastards that deserve it. We can control this, you and I, and we can put families minds at rest by eliminating the enemy!’

  The words held energy, the were a boost to his mental state. He looked down at his hands and noticed that they had stopped shaking, they were as steady as a rock.

  ‘Okay, I’m with you. How long to the next place?’

  ‘Twenty minutes or so, depends on the traffic mate’ he smiled as his new friend accepted to take his side. The bond between the men had hung from a fine thread, their minds were driven in opposite directions. Now, they sat as one, pulled together like metal to a magnet.

  The night had engulfed the creatures that lurked in the shadows, the evil spirits that fed upon fear and weakness. Tonight would be different, the demon’s would feel the end of the stick, that stick housing an array of tools to cause pain.

  Nathan hadn’t noticed the missed calls on his mobile. It had been set to silent as he left the hotel, he had not wanted any disturbance when he met Richard. He followed the street lamps as they climbed the windscreen and disappeared out of view, the vehicle sped down the dual-carriage way, their next location minutes away.

  ***

  Jack had felt disappointed that his friend, probably the only male friend he had, didn’t answer the calls. He began thinking that maybe Nathan had departed on a flight to Spain, leaving his pain and shame behind. He had never hated Nathan for leaving the last time he had asked for his help, but he despised him for not sharing his issues. He thought that they had a bond, a relationship in which they could tell one and other their secrets and hope the other could help with some advice. He needed advice now, his friend unable to assist.

  He began to think about Helen, his ex-wife. The woman had been there for him when he needed a shoulder, as strong and able minded as he was, it still felt good to release the built up anger that dwelled within the pit of his stomach. Helen would stroke his greying hair and whisper comforting words as he lay his head upon her breasts, the therapeutic massage released the toxins that carried his loathing for the job. Tears would sometimes escape his eyes and he welcomed them, her thumb wiping them from his cheeks.

  He had driven her away with the job that had now began to crash upon him, shattering his dreams of a future with her, the dreams of his boat bouncing upon mild waves next in line. He reached for the bottom drawer and pulled it open. The bottle lay under some unused folders, he pushed them aside and removed the whiskey, its golden appearance shining before the table lamp. The first mouthful had seared his throat and stomach lining, the second went down easier, as did the third.

  ***

  William rested his back upon the leather arm chair, the pub growing quieter as the hours pushed on. He had held a lengthy conversation with himself, appearing more and more appetising to the woman of his mind. The alcohol had given him a swift kick after the sixth bottle, the whiskey beforehand added to his drunkenness. He contemplated going home several times, as he was about to stand a long legged woman would enter his arcs, his eyes following the curves and excitement displayed from under his trousers. He would sit and try the starring for attention game. It had failed each time and he was slowly losing patience. He placed the palms of his hands upon the wet table and forced his body upright, the blackout effect jumped into play and he stood as still as possible whilst the room slowed its spinning.

  ‘Come on Doc…..get it together’ he blabbed to himself.

  His focus was distorted as he prodded at the end of his nose, thinking his glasses had slid down as usual.

  ‘Nope…..they are on my face!’ he acknowledged to himself.

  He staggered slightly, the table connected with his thighs.

  ‘Hey….easy now, we don’t need to take this outside, do we?’ his fists curling towards the invisible attacker.

  ‘Hey, you’re that guy from T.V right?’ the voice sweet and delicate.

  He turned to spot the woman, she stood to his side.

  ‘Hi, Doctor William Lime……it’s a pressure to meet you!’ he slurred.

  The giggle told him that his mistake in speech had been accepted and the young woman sat on the chair next to his position. He slumped down upon his chair, once again. Her hair was golden, strands of pure essence. Her silver dress shimmered under the light above. He envisioned her as an angel, a goddess sent to amuse him.

  ‘Would you like a drink?’ he offered, displaying a wallet full of notes.

  ‘Definitely, I’ll have what you’re having please’

  ‘Fine red wine sounds appeasing to me’ he attempted to impress her with an array of technical words, not realising that he had only succeeded in making a fool of himself, still, the woman welcomed it.

  ***

  ‘That’s the place, I think. Just over there by the green bins’ Richard pointed to his right, his finger pressed against the window. He checked the list, removing it from his coat pocket. Nathan noticed the imprint of the nails head as it had burrowed through the glove and into his skin.

  ‘How’s the hand?’

  ‘What, oh, fine mate, cheers’ he smiled. Nathan admired how calm his friend was, the man was about ten minutes away from taking a life and he appeared to be as cool as the wind that surrounded the car.

  ‘How are we doing this one?’

  ‘Same as before, keep it easy mate, less confusion means less fuck ups!’

  ‘That makes sense!’

  They gave one and other a smile, comforting in a small way. Richard had climbed out first, his breath creeping from his mouth and swirling before him. The back door was opened and his equipment removed. Nathan calmed himself, breathing steadily and firing some words of encouragement to his tired brain. Right, let’s go, you can do this mate……you’re the boss, YOU ARE THE BOSS!

  Their feet scraped the concrete floor that had been untouched by the snow, they crossed the small island at the centre of the plaza, several empty beer cans lay upon the ground beside some benches. Nathan looked around, spying for any movement. Richard walked on, his footsteps echoed within his ears, he was focused, determined to complete the self-assigned task. The distinct smell or urine hit them as they entered the front, the double doors banged together as they were closed, a hinge at the top of one corner had come loose, causing them to clash.

  ‘Why are the locations always fucking filthy?’ quizzed Nathan, trying to veer his mind from the mission at hand.

  ‘They’re not always this bad, you’d be surprised who some of these people are!’

  They patrolled the ground floor, the room number was in the lower section.

  ‘This one’ whispered Richard, his foot pointing towards number thirteen.

  ‘Unlucky number’ Nathan’s attempt at humour created a little smirk to strike his friends face.

  He placed an ear upon the door and listened for any sounds coming from the flat. The sound of thrash metal could be heard, Richard judged that it was from behind another closed door inside.

  He stepped back, bracing himself upon Nathan’s shoulder, his leg raised slightly.

  ‘Wait!’ Nathan whispered before his friend ploughed through the obstacle. He stepped towards the door and reached for the handle, he turned it to the left and the clunk shook the wood, i
t creaked open slightly.

  ‘Good idea mate’

  ‘I have them sometimes!’ smiling

  Richard entered first, Nathan close behind. The music could be heard as they moved in, the distorted guitar riff scratched at their ears. They checked the kitchen, empty. They moved slowly down the hall. The bedroom lay in darkness, empty juice cartons and food wrappers were scattered over the floor. Richard tapped his shoulder, instructing him to follow. Nathan swallowed the ever-growing lump in his throat. The hand was placed flat upon the door, the music vibrated through the thin wood. Richard nodded, confirming that the noise was behind the next obstruction. He checked the handle, it turned slowly, the metal ball grinding against the mounting plate. The noise increased as the door was pushed open. Richard could make out the red light upon the wall to his right. The room held a damp atmosphere, the moist smell striking him as he moved in further. The red bulb cast a low eerie light upon the room, the occupant sat at a desk, the computer screen blaring into his eyes. He noticed the man’s figure, overweight and unfit.

  He edged around the open door and moved closer, Nathan pushed through slowly, the smell filling his chest. He felt nauseous, the waft of stale food and sweat caused him to flare his nostrils. Richard stood, the bag in one hand. The obese man starred into the hypnotic blue screen, unaware of his unwanted guests. He placed the bag down slowly and pointed Nathan to the other side of the room, out of view and the line of fire. He positioned his feet apart, one foot forward, the other in line with his body, creating a stable platform to attack from. He moved his hands in a circular motion, clicking the wrists free. The fists were clenched and raised for an attack.

  ‘Hey’ he shouted, catching the man off guard.

  The blob swivelled to the sound. The fist landed smack bang on his nose, he stood, staggering slightly. The open hand jab followed soon after, connecting with his throat. He fell to his knee wheezing. The straight kick to the stable leg forced it to buckle and the man landed upon the floor.

  ‘Tape, quickly!’ he shouted to Nathan who moved with the speed of a Gazelle.

  The interior lighting had been switched on once the man was secured to the chair. His wrists were bound to the arms with copious amounts of tape. His legs and feet were taped flush with the frame, the grey sticky material wrapped over and around the seat several times to keep his limbs in place. Nathan had even pulled strands of tape around the man’s torso, to keep him down for definite. He woke, coughing from the wind-pipe strike delivered by his attacker.

  ‘Wakey wakey’ whispered Richard into the man’s ear.

  ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ he yelled

  ‘Hey, I ask the fucking questions…..not you!’ tapping his forehead with a stiff finger. Nathan moved to Richard’s side and they watched the large man as he wriggled in the chair. The beads of sweat dropped from his brow, the top of his head was barely covered by fine hair. Richard retrieved his bag and began placing some of the contents on the table where the monitor sat. The man prisoner watched as each item was shown to him, a wide grin upon Richard’s face.

  ‘You see these tools, they’re for you fat boy!’ his finger hovered over the weapons.

  ‘Who are you?’ his face showed fear.

  ‘That’s not important’, began Nathan, ‘Your name please?’

  ‘Fuck you’ he spat

  Nathan extended an open hand and the hammer was placed in it.

  ‘Nice choice!’ he nodded to Richard

  ‘Right, I’m going to fire some questions your way, I want them answered!’ the hammer aimed at the man’s face.

  ‘Like I said, fuck you’

  ‘Wrong answer’ the hammer crashed down upon the blob’s foot, the bone cracked as the skin was split. It came down again and again, the foot began to deform as each blow separated the bone. The victim screamed as the pain shot through him, the blood spitting in all directions.

  ‘Right, I’ll ask again!’ the sweat building upon his own brow, he attempted to catch his breath, ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Lee, its Lee I swear!’ he trembled

  ‘Good, next one, what do you know about the Wolf?’

  ‘The killer?’

  ‘So you do know him?’

  ‘Not personally no, fuck, my foot is killing me….please!’

  ‘Why did you mention his name, the internet chat site, the one with the pictures that you admire so much….you know what I’m on about Lee!’

  ‘Please, I need to go to the hospital….please!’ he whimpered. Richard moved forward and stamped on his broken foot, the man jerked as the strike took him by surprise. The crunching sound deafened them.

  ‘The Wolf, where is he?’ Richard screamed in his face.

  ‘Fuck……..please stop!’

  Nathan stood and watched the grown man cry, he had never heard a noise like the one coming from his mouth. The over emphasised breathing and high pitch whimpering had shocked him. He stepped back, the room started to spin. Richard moved to catch his friend as he collapsed to one side. He managed to grab hold of his jacket, decreasing the impact as Nathan connected with the floor. Richard lowered to his friends level, his knee resting upon the littered floor.

  ‘Nathan, hey, you hear me?’ shaking his shoulder

  There was no reply, he had passed out but was still breathing. Richard contemplated his next move, he didn’t want to leave his unconscious friend upon the floor, but also he didn’t want to leave the occupant in case he made an attempt to flee. He thought quickly about the decision.

  The small coffee table crumbled as Richards foot landed upon it. He collected the longest slab of wood and checked its durability, his strong hands attempted to break it in two. Satisfied that the item was strong enough he moved back to the obese man and placed the wood flat under his feet. He stood and reached for the black bag. The nail gun was removed, the box of nails clipped into place within the handle. Richard aimed it towards the wall and depressed the trigger. The loud clunk sound forced a nail to dart from its home and land upon the area in which it was intended for. Smiling, he turned to the man who had begun wetting himself, his grey underpants held a dark patch as the urine flooded his chair. Richard knelt down, the tip of the gun placed upright on top of the good foot. The pleas from his victim were un-heard, the trigger was pulled and the familiar clunk sound sent the nail through the bone, the wood cracked as the metal dug through it. The second was placed just below, securing the foot to the slab of wood. The blood leaked from each rupture. The cries were loud but Nathan remained out cold. Richard moved the weapon to the damaged foot.

  ‘Can’t do much more damage with this one can we?’ he laughed, the nail tearing through the pulped flesh and greeting the wood.

  ‘Now stay still, there’s a good boy’.

  ***

  Jack’s head felt light, his vision impaired by the consumption of the amber liquid. He hadn’t drunk in a long time, not that he was a recovering alcoholic, he just released his built up anger whenever he had a skin full. The bottle held little alcohol, the vast amount of the contents now pumping through his stomach and diluting his blood stream. His stability had been weakened as he stood from the chair, he needed to stretch his legs, the numbing sensation crawled from his toes to his calf muscles. He tried calling Nathan again, he was struck by the same bad luck that had been following him like an overcast cloud above his head. The mobile phone was thrown across the room, landing by the bright green plant that stood in one corner. He growled to himself as the alcohol intensified his anger. He collapsed to his knees, the weeping began and he found it difficult to control himself. He had lost everything that ever mattered to him, he blamed the job, and now his career was slowly drifting away. He watched as his mind displayed an image, the unmanned boat bobbed upon the clear blue waves. He reached for it, the waves dragging his dream further away. He called to it as the object decreased in size, the distance between them increasing. His forehead kissed the carpet of the office, he cried for his ex-wife,
her name echoing the room. The spit escaped his mouth and pooled below his nose, a strand clung to his skin. He began to remember his reaction to Helen leaving him, the day she had packed her belongings as he worked. The scene they made as she left their house when he arrived home. The copious amounts of amber liquid he consumed. The length of rope from his garden shed, securing it upon the bannister at the top of the hall. The other end holding a loop, large enough for his head to fit through, the knot made to allow the rope to slide up until it could go no more.

  It was Nathan who found him, still breathing and surprisingly having a spine that still remained intact. His throat had burned as the skin was pinched to a close. He remembered the flashing lights of the ambulance, the aluminous coats the paramedics wore. He relived the last conversation he and Helen had whilst he was in hospital, the words selfish and sympathy hurt him the most. Her wedding ring sat upon his chest as she departed for good. He remembered all of this, but couldn’t see the time where he threw himself from the stairs, the suicide attempt failing.

  The emotions he began feeling were the ones that drove him to the garden shed many years ago. They haunted his mind and he put up little fight to remove them. His fists slammed down upon the floor, he asked why many times, his brain attempting to piece together the awkward puzzle. He tipped the bottle upright, the remaining contents falling into his open mouth. The fan from above wafted a cooling air against his skin, his eyes followed it drunkenly as the rotations it made hypnotised him. His tie was slowly removed, his concentration fixed on the fan. The desk offered a low grumble as it was manoeuvred to the centre of the room. His flat sole shoes scraped on the wooden surface as he climbed it, his flimsy frame bowing to one side. He placed the garment around his neck and fumbled to make a knot. He wept as the tie was secured around his throat. He watched as the spinning blades caused a dizzy spell in his eyes, little black dots flashed upon the retinas. He reached up, the loose end in one hand. The metal blade clipped his hand and drew blood, he struggled once again with his balance, leaning forward to grab hold of the cooling object he slipped and plummeted to the ground. His body rattled as he hit the floor hard, his shoulder ached from the contact. He brought his knees up to his chest as he lay upon his side, the jerking movements followed as he erupted with tears and cries of pain.