ABEL'S REVENGE_A gripping serial killer thriller like no other

by Ross Greenwood

  ‘She didn’t think he was drunk, or I’d have mentioned it before. He smelled strongly, that’s all. You know how it is. If you haven’t had any yourself, you can smell it a mile off.’

  It was hardly her fault, but I don’t stop myself growling at her. I need to lash out.

  ‘My name is Miss Olivia Jones, by the way. Not Mrs Flood. In light of what you’ve told me, we should make that understood. Good day to you.’

  I try to set Grace on the floor, but she squawks. I swap her to the other side and storm to the car.

  My molten fury has chilled to cold steel by the time I arrive at home. I give Grace an ice cream in the kitchen so as not to be disturbed, and walk into the lounge. Dan sleeps on the sofa. I see three empty beer bottles, but suspect others hide elsewhere. I could kick his feet to waken him, or his chin. The alarm on his phone saves me the quandary, and he squints at me in confusion.

  ‘Forget anyone?’

  He’s disorientated. He turns off the ringer, and checks his watch.

  ‘No. Grace has gymnastics after school today.’

  ‘Grace finished gymnastics last week. I made you write it on the planner, remember?’

  He squints as he tries to recollect.

  ‘And where is Charlie?’

  ‘I whacked him in bed. He was doing my head in, you know, being manic. Then he fell asleep on the carpet in the middle of a tantrum. There’s definitely something wrong with that boy.’

  ‘Wrong with him? He is just a little lad. In fact, he’s you! With better aim in the toilet! A smaller clone, without the beer breath.’

  Dan smiles.

  ‘Don’t grin at me, you idiot. Having a few beers beforehand, were you?’

  I boot the empties across the room to stop myself assaulting him.

  ‘I only had one. Those were from yesterday.’

  I at least expected him to be contrite. Instead, he’s trying to blag me. I’ve had enough. More than enough.

  ‘I told you to get real. But you didn’t. I can handle being messed around, but if I can’t trust you to walk to school and pick our daughter up on time, then we’re finished. I need to know they are safe.’

  The frustrations of the last few years spill from me. He doesn’t respond.

  ‘We’re going to my parents, and then I’ll tell Beau I will go to California. You’re a disgrace. All you can think about is how you hate living here. But you have children now. They become the most important thing. You suspend your happiness to make sure they’re okay.’

  ‘Nice. You lot bugger off and leave me on my own. Thanks for trying but you aren’t welcome. What am I supposed to do?’

  ‘Your lack of effort over the last few years is nobody’s fault but your own. Get a new job, stop whining, and grow up. We’re through.’

  I run around packing a few bits and bobs, but know my parents have most things at their house. Charlie wakes up in a good mood for once, and I lift him and Grace into the car. Dan comes to the door as I’m leaving.

  ‘That’s it? No more Daddy? Where am I supposed to go?’

  Now he understands, but my sympathy is at the school gates.

  ‘You have two months to get out. I’ll stay at my parents until we leave, then rent this place out. You hated it here remember, so I’m doing you a favour.’

  Chapter 38

  Dan

  A month later

  I spent the first week thinking she’d come back. She didn’t. I received a demand to take the children to the park and see them every weekend and the odd night. I offered to do the pick up from school, but she impolitely declined.

  Turns out, I was right. Before I was always busy, now I have nothing to do. Without kids and a job, I am bored. I lie on the sofa and doze. My mind is filled with strange dreams. Whole days are lost to nothing. I even went around Malcolm’s to his gym. To be honest, I felt I had little choice. I couldn’t hide from him forever.

  When I arrived the last time, Malcolm was fuming about the supermarkets. In his mind those bastards hated him and were going out of their way to ruin him. Malcolm held forty kg over my head at that point, so I agreed.

  The end was nigh for Malcolm, and his wife experienced the horror of the family credit card being declined at one of those evil corporation’s superstores. As he spoke, he bounced three times my poor efforts off his bulging chest. I was sweating more than he was, and I wasn’t even lifting the weights.

  I asked him to explain his ride in the police car a while back. He said he found the victim, and they wanted a statement. It didn’t appear that way to me, but he wasn’t in prison, so I suppose they must at least have had their doubts.

  To my surprise, I enjoyed the exercise and was having a good time. That is until his wife arrived. He grimaced as he heard his name howled and left me down there. I listened to the mother of all rows take place. It sounded more like a bag of rats and cats fighting than humans arguing. I sneaked out before they chose frying pans, and hot-footed it home.

  I have to drop more of the kids toys off at Olivia’s parents. It was an order, delivered by text. That’s how we communicate these days. The traffic is heavy, and I have time to think what an unpleasant experience I’m driving towards. I’ll get taken into the conservatory where they’ll sit in their cardigans and judge me, despite the temperature in there being around two hundred degrees.

  When I arrive, her parents are leaving. That doesn’t bode well as Olivia said she wanted to talk to me about a few things. Her dad is definitely losing it as he gives me the wanker sign as he walks past me. Strange behaviour from a near eighty-year-old. Olivia shuts the door after they’ve gone and avoids eye contact as she asks if I want a drink. I daren’t ask for a beer, so coffee will have to do.

  The conservatory has achieved the welcome of a foundry. I’ve been naked in cooler saunas. She passes me a tin of biscuits and leaves to make the drinks. The metal is hot to the touch. It’s the same container they’ve always had in this burning hell. I’ve never had one before, so I’m unsure if they keep filling it up, or if it holds the original inhabitants in its fiery grip.

  Hunger inspires me to take a chance. It’s a terrible mistake. The sensation when I bite through the dusty, arid outer layer would be the same as if I’d sank my teeth into Tutankhamen’s forehead. All moisture in my head evaporates and I wonder if this was their plan to rid their daughter of me.

  Olivia returns with my coffee but fails to hand it over. Her eyes study me as she talks.

  ‘Is that spunk on your shoulder?’

  I look with a shrug. There are many stains there from when I last looked after the kids – some white, some pink. I’ve no idea where they came from, but Charlie springs to mind. His hands commit a multitude of crimes. I hope it’s toothpaste. My mouth’s too dry to respond.

  ‘Someone strangled one of my parents’ neighbours in her bed yesterday. They stole nothing. The only sign they’d been there, apart from the corpse, was a moustache drawn on a picture in the hall.’

  I widen my eyes to ask if it was him.

  ‘I don’t know. The police didn’t want to jump to conclusions. I asked my mum who she was, and she said she had no idea. They only lived a few doors away.’

  I’m unsure where she’s going with this, but can only think of the wetness in the cup she idly swings in front of me.

  ‘Strangled! A knife, or a gun, I could almost understand. Imagine the terror. I’m glad we’re leaving.’

  I stand and, with caution, take the drink from her.

  ‘You’re decided then?’

  ‘Dan, I won’t continue like this. I can’t wait for you to get your head into gear. This isn’t a dress rehearsal. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You’re giving up on me now, are you?’

  ‘Look in the mirror. You’ve given up on yourself.’

  It’s harsh, but true. Since she’s left, I’ve done nothing. I’ve avoided speaking to work or the doctor. I certainly haven’t looked for a job. In fact, it’s unusual if I get dressed. The only i
nteraction with other humans I’ve had has been with the postman, the milkman, and the supermarket delivery guy. My recycling bin was so full of empties and pizza boxes, I couldn’t shut the lid.

  I had to leave Bailey peeing on Mike’s sports car and filled up his bin with the stuff that wouldn’t fit in mine. That was at five o’clock in the morning. I would not enjoy an altercation with Mike right now.

  ‘That looks like blood,’ asks Olivia.

  ‘What does?’

  ‘The stain on your jeans.’

  ‘I think it’s from a pizza. Or ketchup, or it could be tomato soup.’

  It could be anything. I don’t care. Her barrage continues.

  ‘I’ll pack my stuff over the next few weeks. Beau has paid for a delivery firm to collect and store it. I’ll let you know when they’re coming because they have a key. You can have the car back on Thursday. Beau is lending me his vehicle as he’s going to the other office for a while.’

  ‘Could you fill the car up before you return it? I’m short on readies.’

  The look on her face is the same as the one I provide her with when she asks me to bring the washing in when it’s dry. She had an aversion to petrol stations even when we were together.

  I stand to leave. There’s little more to say. I walk through the kitchen on the way out and see two broken cups on the side. She shrugs.

  ‘Girls do your head in, and boys do your home in.’

  The door shuts behind me, and I know she’s right.

  Chapter 39

  Abel

  It’s one of those nights where the gloom seeps into the buildings. The rain has stopped, but a cruel wind whips the enthusiasm from everyone. I bought the paper to keep my head dry while I select a target. The problem I have is there are too many. I can see a multitude of crimes being committed without even trying. The police have given up on this place. They say all their focus is on catching me. That’s a shame, because as it turns out, I’m the cure. Let these vermin turn on each other.

  The prostitutes stick together now. They approach cars with caution. Necessity forces them to be here, alongside the pimps and the junkies, but no one’s enjoying it. In this one dark street, I see three different dealers. They are arrogant, but the bulge in their trousers and the odd glint of steel reveals their nervousness. Gang violence is through the roof, even at this low level.

  Despite the nerves that have swept the city, business is brisk. At times, the cars are queuing for their illegal wares. It’s the fat cats, snorting coke off high-end hookers’ asses that I want. They are the ones who should suffer. Cocooned in their SUVs and shiny trucks, they think themselves invincible. I can’t get to them, the head of the serpent, yet, so I’ll start at the tail.

  The article on the front page of the Evening Standard paper catches my eyes.

  ‘Thrills, chills, and kills in the suburban hills.

  ‘We live in a place gone mad. There’s only one name on the tips of everyone’s tongue. Many refuse to say it. Others dare you to chant it three times in the mirror and he’ll come. It may be that he’s close by, because Abel is everywhere.

  ‘The mayor has likened it to the last days of Sodom and Gomorrah. The attitude is that a time of destruction is upon us. Whatever you want to do, do it now. There’s been a fivefold increase in thrill-seekers paragliding, abseiling and just plain jumping off the tower blocks and multi-storey car parks all over the city. Suicides and accidental deaths have literally gone through the roof.

  ‘Drug busts have hit record levels. A batch of ecstasy laced with strychnine decimated an entire year at our top private school. There is a permanent smog of cannabis and housefires over our heads. The fire department reported more cases of arson in six months than in the previous six years. New riots and marches break out on a daily basis. Huge swathes of the outer districts have become no-go zones.

  ‘More worrying is the fact that incidents of murder and violent crime have reached epidemic levels. If people can’t kill themselves, they are doing it to their neighbours. Revenge is the order of the day. Scores are being settled on a biblical level. A local priest bought an AK47 on the black market to protect himself and has reputedly run out of ammo.

  ‘There were reports of orgies in the valley area and something described as a sex rave occurred at the manor. Our parks, recreation areas, and gardens are awash with paraphernalia of the worst kind. Bungee jumping is banned after cranes were illegally used resulting in two deaths. Freerunners pepper our skyline, and our hospitals.

  ‘The authorities are coming under intense scrutiny. A rally challenging police brutality and inefficiency ironically coincided with a mass looting at our largest shopping centre. While our forces protected our politicians at an assembly for change, our homes, offices, and business were burgled, ransacked and destroyed.

  ‘Amid reports of private security patrols booming in popularity and vigilantes roaming the streets, Detective Inspector Jordan reluctantly agreed to talk to us about what they are now calling The Abel Effect. Indeed, I asked her if they had lost control.

  ‘That is simply not true. We are working around the clock to quell these disturbances and find the person who calls himself Abel. He is only one man though. Yesterday alone, we had information linking Abel to twenty crimes. He confessed to over thirty, sometimes in a female voice. He can’t be responsible for everything that is happening. We urge civilians to remain calm

  ‘It’s true that crime increased by fifty per cent in three months and has since doubled. Personnel, however, have not doubled, but we are trying our best to get things back to normal. Officers from other forces are helping and overtime is being used. The days of Abel will end soon.’

  ‘Confident words from her but sounds like rubbish to me. I can only see it getting worse. As I’m typing this, a naked jogger has run past my window. Can it be him? Well, I must say, I thought Abel would be bigger.’

  I read it, and enjoy it. Fame at last.

  ‘You looking for a good time, mister?’

  I’m startled. I need to get on with the job in hand. The girl who has approached me looks young enough to be at school. In fact, she dresses as though she still is. She’s someone’s daughter, and that’s why I’m here. I am the flame to light the fuse.

  ‘I’m hoping for a great time, but I want a chemically induced one.’

  ‘You sure? I could even combine the two.’

  ‘Maybe tomorrow. Listen, I need the best stuff. Is that your pimp over there, or your dealer?’

  She looks at him in disgust.

  ‘Pimp, dealer, ring-piece, he got a lotta names.’

  I pass her the list of drugs and she whistles. I give her a fifty for her trouble. She sprints across the road and he stares at me and grins. I watch him approach a rival supplier and, after a discussion and passing of objects, he jogs toward me.

  Snatches of a hymn from years gone by filters through my mind. Fast falls the evening tide. The darkness deepens. I fear no foe. Abide with me. I step into the shadows, raise my scarf and hood, narrow my eyes, and become Abel. He arrives at the alley and I swing him in and shove him against a wall.

  He reaches for his gun, and freezes as he stares at my cowled face. The Taser in my hand isn’t needed. My legend is more powerful than any weapon. He shoves the paper bag at me.

  ‘Take it, man. Take it.’

  ‘I’m not after drugs. It’s you I’ve come for.’

  He was a wretched, foul-stinking disgrace before urine splattered from his trouser leg. Now he’s a quivering wreck of humanity. I pull the gun from his waistband.

  ‘Please, don’t kill me.’

  ‘You deserve to die.’

  ‘Please…’

  ‘Empty your pockets.’

  He passes me an impressive wad of money even though he looks like he could lose consciousness any second. Abhorrent as he smells, I roar in his ear.

  ‘Let all who come here know my name.’

  He sobs as he realises he’ll survive. His stench gives
strength to my arms and I hurl him into a puddle in disgust.

  ‘Tell them I will return. I am thy balm. Everyone I see will die.’

  A crunching boot to his ribs delivers the message and I leave him groaning in the dark. Whoever he owes will no doubt deal with him more brutally. I stride away through the back roads thinking of a woman called Olivia.

  Chapter 40

  Olivia

  The next day

  There’s no answer from the doorbell. I’m surprised Dan’s late for the meeting he requested at our house. It’s impressive, even by his standards. I don’t miss his poor punctuality. I’ve spent a lot of time waiting around for him. He was often nipping out for half an hour and coming back two hours later. I regularly woke up to an empty space beside me. He would say he’d been out jogging or walking. Perhaps he had, but where to? A different bed?

  Charlie woke up poorly, so I left him snuggling into my mother’s bosom. I hate it when the children are ill. I despise being so helpless. Although saying that, Charlie loves it at my parents. He’s clocked that Grandad’s memory is not so hot, and keeps asking for sweets, pretending he hasn’t had any yet. I’m not sure if Grandad falls for it or doesn’t care. They are both happy.

  I let myself in, and, even though it’s my house, I’m a stranger. Perhaps that’s because of the unusual smell. Typical man thinks a few squirts of air freshener will cover up four weeks of methane and closed windows. Grace, who insisted on coming to show daddy her school report, tugs my sleeve.

  ‘Did something die in here?’

  ‘Let’s hope not, sweetie.’

  ‘Maybe it’s a squirrel. I watched a program on them.’ Mournful eyes stare into mine. ‘One bite, and you die.’

  Death by squirrel. A fitting way for Dan to go. Although, the squirrel would more likely be infected by him.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll find a squirrel here, honey. A massive, dirty rat is a possibility.’