“Brian!” Helen yelled. “Don’t…please.”
Brian closed the door behind him and ventured out into the spacious garden. The others, with the exception of bored Anna, rushed over to the window, pushing close to one another in order to get a decent view.
There was nothing to see, at least not yet. The centrepiece of East Catchford’s back garden was a large, phallic shaped swimming pool. No doubt it was Malky Hamilton’s pride and joy because he sent someone in weekly to maintain and clean the pool while the rest of the house, so it seemed, was drowning in dust and used furniture. Upon arriving at the house that afternoon, the band had removed the pool’s cover and lit several large tea lights around the edge to create ambience. The possibility of a midnight skinny dip had been brought up several times.
“He’s an idiot,” Kylie said, clinging so tight to Ollie that it felt like he had an anaconda on his arm.
The chilling pulse-like slap of the rotor blades grew louder.
“Oh God!” Helen said. “It’s coming. It’s coming.”
Dave kept an arm around his girl. Helen buried her face in the big drummer’s barrel chest, too scared to watch.
“I can’t see it,” Ollie said. Looking up, the sky was still a black sheet with millions of stars. But like the others, he could hear the machine coming in. He wondered if it was approaching from the front. Or was it already directly above the house? What the hell were they thinking, letting Brian go out there like that?
It’s a prank, Ollie heard the singer saying over and over in his head.
It’s a bloody prank.
“We should have killed the lights,” Ollie said. “Why didn’t we kill the lights?”
Helen looked at Ollie and nodded. She wriggled free of Dave’s vice-like grip and rushed over to the dining room wall. She hit the light switch but in her panic, turned the bulbs off and on again. To anyone watching from the sky it must have appeared that the house was signalling.
Ollie turned his attention back to the window. “Brian! Get back in here mate, you’ve made your point.”
Brian was standing by the penis pool, taking careful sips of a nice Shiraz. “What a lovely evening!” he called out.
Seconds later a fierce beam of light descended from the sky, penetrating the gloomy shield of darkness around East Catchford. The spotlight went back and forth, focusing on the garden area.
The light fell on Brian.
Brian sat his wine glass down at the edge of the pool. “Come on then!” he yelled, folding his arms into a boxing guard, tucking the elbows in tight to the ribs. He started to bounce on his feet, throwing punches at the low-flying helicopter.
“That’s an Apache,” Dave said, gawping at the scene outside. “That helicopter…it’s what the military use.”
“So it is an air show then?” Celia said. “Or…?”
“Yeah,” Dave said, cutting in. “Oh thank God. It must be. He was right, Brian was right.”
“FUCK THE BBC!” Brian howled, cupping his hands over his mouth. At the same time he was still bouncing up and down like Muhammad Ali on a pogo stick.
The helicopter descended further. The noise of the blades spinning was by now overwhelming.
“What’s it doing?” Kylie yelled. “Coming in a bit low innit?”
“Looks like it’s trying to land in the garden,” Ollie said.
Six faces were pressed against the glass, staring out at Brian and the low-flying Apache.
“Yeah,” Dave said. “Look Helen. He’s alright, he’s alright. It’s a coincidence that’s all. It was a prank and the helicopter’s filming him for something. That’s what it must be love. They’re filming him for the telly. Oh man, Brian’s going to look like a right twat when they put this on later.”
Brian waved at the helicopter. Then he turned back to the house, a victorious smile lighting up his handsome face.
“See,” he yelled over the noise of the Apache. “I told you it was a…”
Ollie didn’t hear the bullet that made Brian’s head explode. All he would remember of that moment was the sight of his friend’s skull blowing up like a burst watermelon. Blood and brains shot upwards like fireworks. A moment later the rest of Brian toppled backwards into the swimming pool.
Nobody spoke. Nobody moved.
The Londoners inside Malky Hamilton’s country getaway were trapped in a bubble of shock, paralysed by horror to such an extent that they couldn’t do anything.
It was Helen who eventually broke the silence. She staggered away from the window at the same time as the helicopter ascended into the black sky. Helen’s bloodcurdling scream triggered a mad scramble inside the house. People raced back and forth in a crazed dance that resembled some kind of devilish ritual. It was as if in their terror, the survivors were accidentally summoning Hell to Earth with the sway of their physical forms.
“Get away from the windows!” Celia cried out. “Move!”
Everyone dropped to the floor. Ollie slid on his belly along the wooden surface, reaching for Kylie. They found one another and held on tight as if they were the only thing keeping each other afloat in the sea of madness. It felt to Ollie like he was holding a mannequin. When he raised his head to look at her, Kylie was staring at him with huge frightened eyes.
“It’s real?” she whispered.
He nodded. “It’s real.”
Ollie’s mind was on a loop, replaying the moment Brian’s head exploded, over and over again.
“What the fuck is going on?” Dave screamed. His eyes were ablaze with terror as he lay on the floor next to Helen, staring up at the window through which they’d watched their friend die. “BRIAN! BRIAN!”
“We stay inside,” Celia said, signalling for everyone’s attention. Her chest heaved up and down as she fought for breath. “We stay indoors. We don’t go outside. The helicopters – they’re only picking off people who go outside. Okay? That’s how we stay alive. We stay in the house, lights off, out of sight.”
John was curled up in a ball-like shape in the corner of the room. His haunted eyes stared into empty space. “That won’t work darling.”
“Yes,” Celia said. “Yes it will.”
But John shook his head. “You remember what Jane Hunt said don’t you? Numbers, she said. It’s all about the numbers darling. How many other people saw that broadcast on the telly tonight? Everyone in Britain, that’s who. All of those people will try staying indoors tonight. They’ll stay indoors thinking they’ll be safe. But…numbers. The killers will have to start going inside people’s houses or they’ll never meet the targets.”
Celia’s skin turned chalk white. “Oh fuck.”
There was a noise at the table behind them. A slow, laborious handclap.
“Smart lad,” said a familiar voice.
Ollie and Kylie sat up on the floor, spinning around to face the dining room table. Anna was still there, doubled over, in the midst of opening her guitar case.
“What the fuck is wrong with you Anna?” Dave asked.
Anna reached into the open case and pulled out a large semi-automatic rifle, green and black, with a long scope attached to the barrel. She put the gun down on the table and smiled at the six people huddled together on the floor.
“Surprise,” she said.
“Anna,” Celia said, holding her hands out. Her voice was trembling. “What the fuck’s going on here?”
“Your boyfriend is right,” Anna said, speaking in a cool matter of fact voice.
“What do you mean?” Celia asked.
“Numbers,” Anna said. “That’s all that matters here Celia darling. And there aren’t enough helicopters in the sky to do what needs to be done tonight. You see what the good old British public doesn’t know is that there are killers sitting amongst them right now. Might be your best mate. Might be your mum or your dad or the cute blonde sitting across the dinner table. Most of us ground troopers are ex-military who drifted into contract killing. Others, they’re just volunteers. People who enjoy it
and have the stomach for it.”
Dave sat up slowly, a horrified-looking Helen wrapped in his arms. Together they backed off until they hit the wall. “Jesus Christ,” Dave said. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Anna,” she said, picking up the rifle off the table. She gave the barrel a quick wipe with a cloth that she’d pulled out the hard case. “I’m just Anna.”
“Anna,” Ollie said. “Please don’t do...”
“It’s nothing personal Ollie,” she said, butting in. There was a sweet smile on her face. “I’m not one of those fucked up people who’re enjoying this. I take no pleasure in killing you all, but it’s my job. This is just something that needs to happen. Let me ask you something – what’s the biggest driver of climate change? Or should I say who’s the biggest driver? It’s us innit? Well, look at how we deal with other so-called pests in the environment. It was only ever a matter of time before we had to deal with the biggest pest of all.”
“You came down here with us,” Celia said. “You travelled with us on the train and all the time you knew that you’d have to…”
“I was actually supposed to work in London this weekend,” Anna said. “Quarter of a mill – that’s a lot of bodies. But when I told my boss I’d been invited to Sussex for the weekend she said go for it. Too many snipers in London, she said. They were desperate for more of us to go to the sticks. So here I am.”
She dropped the cloth and turned the gun on the people on the floor. Ollie and the others quickly jumped to their feet, arms outstretched. Eyes pleading with the killer.
“Anna!” Celia said. “No. Please don’t do this.”
“Don’t worry,” Anna said, giggling. “I like you guys. I’ll make it quick, I promise.”
Helen made a run for the door. Her escape attempt took everyone by surprise, Dave most of all judging by the shocked look on his face. Ollie wondered if Helen’s mad dash was purely instinctive or if she’d been plotting quietly within herself for the past couple of minutes. His guess was that she’d given into a sudden jolt of terror.
She made it through the doorway, slipping back into the living room.
“Helen!” Dave roared. His eyes bulged. “Helen!”
Helen kept running through the house in petrified silence. It seemed like nothing else mattered to her in that moment, nothing except escape. Her love for Dave, unquestionably powerful, had been pushed aside by the primal urge to survive.
Anna smirked and leaned sideways on her chair. She kept the rifle at waist height and tracked Helen’s run all the way. Before Helen could turn right and get clear of the living room, Anna fired a single shot that whistled its way through a silencer.
There was a thump in the living room.
“No!”
Dave charged through the doorway, his face distorted in horror. Once he was in the living room he screamed and it was as if the world shook underneath him.
“Fucking cunt!”
The others, Anna included, followed the drummer slowly into the living room.
Ollie’s stomach lurched. He saw Dave kneeling down beside the body of Helen. She was face down on the floor, a large bullet hole in the back of her head. A small puddle of blood spilled outwards.
Anna walked around to the other side of the room, blocking off the exit towards the downstairs hallway.
Dave’s face was buried in the back of Helen’s dress. His head was bright red and when he looked up again, Ollie saw a flood of tears streaming down his friend’s cheeks.
“Dave,” Ollie said, reaching for him. He knew what was coming next. “Dave, don’t…”
In a fit of rage, Dave charged across the living room, yelling obscenities at Anna.
“Dave!” Ollie cried out. “No!”
“YOU FUCKING BITCH!”
Anna didn’t blink. She squeezed the trigger twice, putting two bullets in his chest.
Dave collapsed like a toppled rhino, flipping the coffee table over as he fell. There was a colossal crashing noise.
Ollie stared at the floor in horror. He felt all the hope flushing out of him. Dizziness threatened to overcome his mind, knocking him slightly off balance.
Dave and Helen. Dead.
“Right guys,” Anna said, ushering Ollie and the others further into the living room with a come hither finger.
Ollie watched it all through a blur.
“Who’s next?” Anna said.
Chapter 6
Anna’s head appeared to float a mere inch or two above the scope. Her eyes skipped back and forth over the four people standing on the opposite side of the room. Ollie had a feeling that she was deciding the order of death.
“Please Anna,” Celia said, continuing to plead with the friend turned killer. “There has to be a way we can work this out. Nobody else needs to die.”
Anna’s hungry eyes didn’t blink. “Oh they do. Unfortunately Celia, a lot more people need to die before it’s over.”
“But it’s murder,” Celia said. “I don’t want to die for God’s sake, I’m not ready.”
“Close your eyes darling,” Anna said. “And it’ll all be over in a few seconds. Think of all the things you’ll never have to put up with again. All the shitty little things that make life worth losing. No more Monday mornings, no more rude people, no more wanker bosses telling you what to do, no more disappointing cups of coffee, no more hate, no more injustice, no more grey skies and best of all, no more Piers fucking Morgan. With any luck, somebody’s already bumped that twat off.”
Ollie wondered how many other people up and down the country would hear similar words tonight?
“What about Brian?” he asked. “Anna, you let Brian go out there knowing full well what would happen if he did. Didn’t you feel anything for him?”
Anna lowered the rifle an inch or two. “He was sweet,” she said. “He was funny and well, alright in bed. Bit full of himself, but what do you expect from the singer of a rock and roll band? So yeah I did like him.”
“And yet,” Kylie said. “You let him walk out to his death.”
“Numbers,” Anna said. “No room for sentimentality Kylie, not when you’re doing this kind of work. This is bigger than friends, bigger than family. And I guarantee you that thousands of other people are staring down the barrel of a gun right now, having this same conversation with friends and family members.”
“That’s insane,” Ollie said. “People wouldn’t just kill their friends and family.”
“Orders,” Anna said.
“Bullshit,” Ollie said. “They’d need a hell of a lot more than orders to kill loved ones.”
Anna nodded. “The future of humankind on this planet. That’s a lot at stake wouldn’t you say Ollie?”
“Killing people though?” Celia said.
“Yeah.”
“That’s murder Anna.”
“Do you care about the environment Celia?” Anna said. “Do you want human beings to go extinct?”
“Of course not,” Celia said. “But there are other ways to save the planet that don’t involve mass murder. Renewable energy, eating plant-based food, less flying and all that jazz. Eh? Listen love, how about we promise to change for the better? We’ll do more. Much more. Will you let us go if we promise to do better?”
Anna smiled and it was the smile of an angel.
“Oh Celia,” she said. “If you were going to do it you would have done it by now. Wouldn’t you? Just close your eyes and think about the ultimate sacrifice you’re making for Mother Earth. And if it helps just think of me as Greta Thunberg with a Remington 700 semi-automatic assault rifle.”
John crept forward like he was advancing over a field of landmines.
“I’ve got an idea,” he said. “And I think it’s a pretty good one. You know how they’re always saying on the news that the British prisons are overcrowded? Yeah? Well, kill the prisoners. Kill the murderers, the rapists and the thieves. Kill that lot and meanwhile the law-abiding citizens will work on lessening their carbon footprint
. That’ll work won’t it?”
Anna glanced at her watch. “That’s a great idea John,” she said. “But the prisoners have been dead for days now. Only problem is there’s not nearly enough of ’em to make a difference is there?”
John’s body sagged to the floor. “Well kill the bankers then,” he said. “Kill the traffic wardens, know what I mean? All the wankers of society – round them up and get rid of them. You can’t just…”
“It has to be random,” Anna said. “Impartial, that’s the word they used on the contract. No special treatment except for the top one percent earners. Jane Hunt didn’t mention that of course but let’s face it – some people are just too rich to kill. Apart from that guys, it’s fair game.”
Anna stepped over Dave’s fresh corpse.
“I’m a professional,” she said. “You won’t feel a thing. Now let’s get a move on – I’ve got a lot of work to get through tonight.”
She took another step forward, bringing the scope to her eye.
“You first John,” she said. “Nothing personal.”
John threw his hands up in the air. “No! Please!”
Anna planted her feet and brought her finger to the trigger. Then she squealed.
Dave’s bloody hand reached up from the floor, grabbing Anna’s ankles. He moaned like a ghost trapped in eternal torment. Dave throttled Anna’s leg, tipping her off balance and sending her backwards across the living room. She barely missed the puddle of blood that had spilled out of the drummer’s midsection.
“Dave!” Ollie yelled.
Dave managed to push himself onto his side. He looked at Ollie, revealing a face that was grotesquely discoloured, a sort of reddish-purple and black and yellow all at once. It looked like Killing Floor’s drummer had literally turned back at the gates of the dead to come back and help his friends.
Anna was back on him again in the blink of an eye. She brought the rifle butt down on the back of Dave’s head. Once, twice, three times. Hard blows. Dave’s body jerked and rattled in time to the onslaught. Anna kept going – a trained killer doing what came as natural to her as swimming did to a fish.
The Dystopiaville Omnibus: A Dystopian Sci-Fi Horror Collection Page 28
