Last Witness

by Carys Jones

  He moved away from the car with the box in his hands. Amanda’s knees buckled and she flailed against the car.

  ‘You brought…’ she could barely form her words, ‘the gun? You brought the bloody gun out here?’ The whole time they’d been driving it had been stashed away in the boot, silent and deadly.

  ‘Amanda—’

  ‘This is my surprise?’

  ‘You need to focus,’ he thrust the box into her hands. ‘You’re the one who was so determined to do this but you can barely be around the thing without falling apart. How are you going to compose yourself to actually use it?’

  Amanda’s hands trembled against the box.

  ‘You can’t give in to your fear. I’m not trying to be cruel, I’m trying to help you get some clarity. Come on.’ Shane strode off, the gravel crunching underfoot as he moved beyond the small car park to a cluster of trees. Amanda felt obliged to follow, the weight of the box unpleasantly heavy in her hands.

  There was a clearing at the heart of the trees in which four straw torsos were arranged on wooden poles.

  ‘The website said that the TA uses this site but only on weekends,’ Shane explained factually, like he were a tour guide in a museum.

  Amanda looked at the four effigies. They lacked heads or arms. Their bodies were just tightly packed straw held together by string.

  ‘I’m going to teach you how to load, aim, and fire. You got it?’ Shane relieved her of the box and pulled some disposable gloves from his back pocket before opening it up. ‘This is your safety, your magazine,’ he handed a pair of gloves to Amanda before permitting her to take a closer look. ‘And of course the trigger.’

  The surface of the gun was polished. Someone had taken great care in its manufacture.

  ‘Hold it,’ Shane offered her the gun.

  Amanda felt her body trying to pull back, like a magnet being repelled, but she fought against the reaction. Clenching her teeth together, Shane raised her hands and closed them around the hilt of the gun. He released the barrel.

  ‘Now, aim it.’

  Amanda used both hands to keep it level and steady. She turned towards the quartet of straw bodies positioned some ten feet away.

  ‘Just hold it for a bit, get used to the weight.’

  Her upper arms throbbed but Amanda remained stoic in her stance.

  ‘Okay, that’s it. You’re doing great.’ Shane came in close, checked the line of her arms, and lowered her shoulders. ‘Now, when you’re comfortable,’ he stood at her side, ‘shoot the far left one in the chest.’

  Amanda’s finger found the trigger as she carefully manoeuvred herself to face the far left torso. Her palms were damp and she felt unbearably cold, like her teeth could start chattering at any second.

  ‘You need to squeeze the trigger but really commit to it once you do. The safety is off. Give it a shot.’

  Her mouth was so dry. Amanda kept the gun steady, pulled against the trigger. When she pulled, a force was unleashed from within the gun which made her stagger backwards. It happened so fast that for a second she didn’t trust her senses. The only sound was the snapping of straw as the bullet connected with the torso’s upper right shoulder.

  ‘Christ,’ she looked down at the gun which remained in her hands.

  ‘It definitely packs a punch,’ Shane commented. ‘Now, go again. This time really focus on hitting the target directly in the chest.’

  Amanda fired off four more shots. None of them landed in the centre of the straw torso. They were always a couple of inches shy of the mark.

  ‘I keep missing.’

  ‘A good aim takes years to perfect,’ Shane massaged her shoulders which were now aching. Each time Amanda squeezed on the trigger she felt the power of the shot cross over into her and echo into her bones. ‘You’ll get there.’

  ‘I don’t have time to get there.’ Amanda handed Shane the gun and snapped off her gloves in frustration. She walked over to the four torsos, drawing up close so that she could survey the damage she’d caused. ‘Four more nights,’ she shouted over her shoulder. ‘That’s all we have left. Then we have to go back,’ her fingers explored the fibres of straw which had come loose. Softer, as if sharing a secret with the dummy torso, she muttered, ‘Ewan is expecting me. He needs me.’

  ‘Well, we can’t come back here tomorrow as it’s Saturday.’

  Amanda wasn’t listening. She circled the torso, stalking it. She suddenly felt predatory, like a cat that had just noticed the sparrow sitting quietly on the garden fence. She made her fingers into the shape of a crude gun and poked at the straw. It would be hard to miss a shot from such a distance. In fact it would be impossible.

  ‘So do you want to practise some more now?’ Shane was trying to get her attention.

  Amanda prodded the torso again. Jabbed it sharply in the centre of its straw chest, right where its barley heart would be. If she couldn’t shoot accurately from a distance then what she needed to do was eliminate the distance completely. But how was she ever going to get close enough to McAllister to shoot him at point-blank range?

  *

  ‘I should have killed him when I had the chance.’ Amanda had felt tormented the entire drive back into the city.

  ‘And what, got yourself killed in the process?’

  ‘I should have stabbed him or just clawed his bloody eyes out with my bare hands.’ She surprised herself with her vitriol but she was mad. Verging on furious. Each time it felt like she had McAllister within her grasp he managed to slither just out of reach.

  ‘If this is about the shooting, then I can do it.’

  ‘No,’ she turned down Shane’s offer for the fourth time. ‘I have to do it.’

  ‘Amanda—’

  ‘This is about me being my own hero, remember?’

  ‘Yes, but I’m not about to let you get yourself killed.’

  ‘I won’t, I’ll be fine.’ Amanda sounded so convincing that she almost managed to fool herself.

  ‘We can practise some more. We can—’

  Amanda groaned as she cradled her left arm against her chest.

  ‘Do you ache?’

  ‘Uh-huh. A lot.’

  ‘We probably overdid it a bit today. Pushed you too hard. I’ll run you a bath as soon as we’re back at the hotel.’

  ‘A bath?’ Amanda’s sagged in her seat as she imagined the blissful sensation of warm bubbles caressing every inch of her sore body.

  Once they returned to the hotel Shane was as good as his word. He ran Amanda a hot bath and set about ordering room service, leaving her to enjoy its fragrant warmth. It felt good to settle down amongst the bubbles. The heat massaged all her aches, helping them fade away. Amanda closed her eyes, loving how her whole body tingled with delight.

  *

  ‘I ran you a bath.’

  Amanda had just burst in through the front door. She still had sweat pouring down her forehead and clinging to her cold skin. There was still ice on the cars outside. The tip of her nose had turned into a cherry.

  ‘You what?’ she gasped, trying to get her breath back.

  ‘While you were out jogging, I ran you a bath.’ Will was sat in the living room in the middle of the sofa, carefully working his way through the newspaper he was holding.

  ‘Oh, wow.’ Amanda swept the back of her hand across her slick brow. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’

  ‘I figured you might want a bath when you got back.’

  ‘You figured right.’ Amanda eagerly kicked off her trainers. She raced for the stairs and then doubled back, peering into the living room. ‘You know, I could get used to this being married lark. I mean, are there other perks besides freshly run baths?’

  ‘Oh,’ Will turned to flash her a suggestive grin, ‘there are lots of perks. Just you wait and see.’

  ‘Maybe…’ Amanda flirtatiously lifted up the hem of her T-shirt, giving Will a flash of her pale stomach, ‘you could join me, if you like?’

  Will abandoned his paper as though
the pages had suddenly set on fire.

  *

  Amanda slowly opened her eyes. The water around her had grown cold and the bubbles were all flat. Her joints creaked like rusted pipes as she carefully manoeuvred herself out of the bath. The lingering steam provided little warmth so she hurriedly bundled herself into the nearest towel. She gazed at the flat surface of the water.

  ‘Hey,’ behind her the door opened. ‘You were taking a while so I thought I’d check in on you,’ Shane explained apologetically, already retreating when he noticed that Amanda had successfully got out of the bath on her own.

  ‘He’s everywhere.’

  ‘What?’ Shane pushed the door open a bit further, looking confused.

  ‘Will.’ Amanda wilted as she dropped down onto the toilet lid. ‘There are memories of him everywhere. Even,’ she gestured at the water with a limp hand, ‘having a bath reminds me of him. He’s everywhere. How am I supposed to deal with that?’

  Shane opened the door fully and came and knelt beside her. He brushed his fingers down her damp cheek. ‘I wish I knew the answer, Amanda. I guess that, in time, it will get easier.’

  ‘Will it be worse when we go back, when I’m in my home? The home we shared? I don’t know if I can handle seeing him everywhere all the time. I feel… guilty. Like if I hadn’t chased after him he might still be alive. Along with Evangeline.’ She dabbed at her eyes with the corner of the towel.

  ‘I’ll be right there with you. Whatever you go through, I’ll be by your side to get you through it.’

  ‘What if—’ she choked on a sob. ‘What if my mum is right? What if I am running?’

  ‘Amanda, you’re not running.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why I’m so determined to face McAllister, because deep down I don’t want to go back.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘Am I running?’ Amanda asked tearfully.

  ‘You’re not running.’ Shane cradled her cheeks with his warm hands. ‘You told me that you didn’t want to run, that you didn’t want to live like a ghost. You’re here because you’re fighting for your future, Amanda.’ Then he added, hopefully, ‘For our future.’

  ‘I can’t shoot him from a distance’ Amanda dropped her chin, unable to meet Shane’s gaze.

  ‘Then don’t. You’ll shoot the fucker in his sleep if you have to.’

  ‘I need to find a way to be alone with him. Some place where he can’t call for help or get away.’

  ‘Look, just let me do it, Amanda. Let me kill him.’

  ‘No,’ the word shot from Amanda like a bullet. ‘This is on me, Shane. I have to do this. I have to be the one to end him. You understand, don’t you?’

  ‘No. But we’ll figure this out.’ Shane withdrew his hands and stepped back. He leaned down to help Amanda stand up. ‘Whatever we need to do to finish this, we’ll do it, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘You’re not running away from your problems being up here, Amanda. You’re facing them.’

  23

  ‘You wander down a darkened tunnel. You’re completely alone.’

  The large metal garage door creaked loudly in the wind.

  ‘And the stench of rotting flesh fills the air.’

  ‘Thanks for that, John,’ Amanda rolled her eyes and fiddled with the dice in her hand.

  ‘As Dungeon Master it’s my job to embellish,’ John puffed out his chest from where he sat at the head of the small foldout table, wedged into a plastic patio chair just as Amanda and Shane were.

  ‘Rotting flesh, really?’ Shane challenged as the wind hammered more fiercely at the garage door.

  ‘It’s a dungeon,’ John raised his eyebrows so that they nearly met the paper crown he was wearing. ‘It’s highly likely that people are left to rot and die in a dungeon. Hench the smell.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Amanda started to shake the dice she was holding. Her black Linkin Park T-shirt swamped her slender frame and her hair was still a muted shade of lime green from when she’d dyed it for Halloween the previous week. ‘I’m in a darkened tunnel. Which stinks. And I’m alone.’

  ‘Only you’re not alone,’ John announced grandly, a sly smile pulling on his lips.

  ‘But you just said that I was.’

  Undeterred, John continued. ‘Out of the shadows creeps Declamore, the oldest and the most powerful vampire in all of the seven realms.’

  ‘Hey, no fair,’ Shane smacked a hand down against the table, causing it to wobble precariously. ‘You made us both abandon our physical weapons when we entered the second level. We’re armed only with magic now!’

  ‘I offered you a choice,’ John stated sagely. ‘You could have abandoned your weapons or your magic in order to pass through the portal to the next chamber.’

  ‘Yes but—’

  ‘Besides,’ John held his palm up towards his friend but did not engage him directly, ‘Tarquin the Destroyer is currently subdued by a sleeping curse, is he not?’

  ‘Yes,’ Shane grumbled, folding his arms across his chest and sinking low in his chair.

  ‘Which means that you, Morgana the Wise,’ John stared expectantly at Amanda, ‘must choose how you wish to face this foe.’

  ‘She gave up her silver blade,’ Shane stretched out his arms in protest, getting frustrated. ‘And you know her magic isn’t strong enough to take on a low-level vampire, let alone Declamore. Why did you even bring him in, John?’

  ‘Because I am Dungeon Master,’ John threw Shane a venomous look. ‘It is up to I to make the rules. Yours is not to challenge them.’

  ‘Ours is just to do or die,’ Amanda muttered, still jiggling the dice against her palm.

  ‘So what will it be?’ John gestured towards her like she were some lucky contestant on a television quiz show. ‘How will you take on the dreaded Declamore?’

  ‘We’re completely alone?’

  ‘You’re completely alone since Tarquin drank from the forbidden chalice and thus fell under a sleeping curse.’

  ‘I told you not to do that.’ Amanda arched an eyebrow at Shane who was once again slumped in his seat on the other side of the small table.

  ‘I was thirsty.’

  ‘You’re also meant to be asleep,’ John snapped, ‘so hush.’

  ‘Um,’ Amanda chewed her lip as she kept twisting the dice around the palm of her hand. ‘I mean, I could run, but he’s too fast. I can’t fight him with my magic and I have no weapon. There’s nothing I can do.’

  ‘Think harder,’ John urged, ‘there’s always something you can do. Everyone has a weakness, it’s just a case of finding it.’

  *

  ‘He needs to be alone,’ Amanda drummed her fingertips against her laptop as Shane paced around at the end of the bed.

  ‘Completely alone,’ he snapped his fingers towards her. ‘If one of his goons is close by then that’s it because they will undoubtedly be armed. A guy like McAllister, he’ll always have someone shadowing him. Maybe intercepting him at the club somehow will be our best bet.’

  ‘He goes jogging.’ Amanda sat up straighter.

  ‘He what?’

  ‘Jogging. Every morning, at dawn. He told me that he likes to run through the woods which border his estate. That he likes to be alone with his thoughts.’

  ‘Okay…’ Shane didn’t sound particularly convinced.

  ‘Of course,’ Amanda began shaking her head, ‘maybe that was just another lie he told to try and gain my trust. But…’ she picked at the ends of her nails, ‘it seemed real. When he told me.’

  ‘It was probably just a lie, Amanda. Something else he fabricated to try and make himself seem more human.’

  ‘But it’s all we’ve got.’

  Shane sighed.

  ‘If I apprehend him when he’s jogging then at least he’s alone, away from his house and his hired muscle. It’s a shot, Shane.’

  ‘It’s a risk,’ Shane’s voice was hard with resistance. ‘I bet the prick doesn’t even own a pair of trainers.’


  ‘Isn’t it at least worth investigating? I mean, we’re running out of time.’

  ‘Jogging?’ Shane’s shoulders sagged.

  ‘Jogging.’

  ‘Okay… we’ll look into it.’

  *

  Amanda rotated her shoulders, doing her best to push past the dull ache which throbbed in her left side.

  ‘I should be doing some investigating,’ she objected as she set her feet apart in a strong stance and bunched her hands into fists.

  ‘You will,’ Shane nodded at her, ‘but I need to make sure you’re strong enough to do this. Especially since you keep insisting that it has to be you, not me. Hit it again.’

  Amanda drove her arm forward and punched the bag which was hung a few inches away from her.

  ‘Good,’ Shane noted with approval. ‘Again.’

  Her muscles were starting to ache. As were all her joints and they’d only been in the hotel gym for fifteen minutes.

  ‘Okay,’ Shane gently guided her away from the punchbag and went over to a treadmill. ‘Maybe we should focus on your stamina for a bit.’ He started typing numbers into the treadmill’s digital display.

  ‘My stamina is fine.’

  ‘When you apprehend him, if things go wrong, you need to be able to run away.’ Shane looked at the treadmill. ‘Show me you can run.’

  Amanda reluctantly climbed up and the small conveyer belt at her feet began moving, forcing her to start jogging. It didn’t take long for a sweat to break out all over her body and for her chest to start burning.

  ‘Don’t push yourself,’ Shane was standing close by, watching her. ‘Just see how far you can go.’

  But Amanda wanted to push herself. Shane was right – she needed to recover her ability to run. She started to jog faster on the treadmill, her feet tirelessly pounding to keep up with the increased speed. Sweat dripped into her eyes, but she kept going. Every bruise on her body felt like a needle stabbing down towards her bones but she kept running. She needed to be fast. And strong.