Jesus! It was stupid to think that anyone could get away with that sort of thing now.
Perhaps thirty centuries ago!
But now?
Impossible!
‘Impossible, to think that the whole fucking world was…Is, living a lie,’ he muttered, shaking his head slowly and watching a large spider scuttle away when he moved his foot.
Rita had told him so much he still couldn’t get his head round most of it. He knew that he felt angry, very angry, and that made him understand the need for secrecy. Anger is deadly. If everyone suddenly found out, then the world as we all know it would no longer exist. The transition had to be smooth, and certain people had been working towards this for years.
Having taken refuge from the relentless drizzle which had started not long after he’d run, he now sat huddled in the shop doorway, his knees up to his chest and his head tucked in, his arms wrapped around his legs as he rocked from side to side, a harsh sob escaping every few minutes from his burning lungs.
When he’d heard the full horrendous truth from Rita, he’d been unable to take it. He’d taken flight, pushing everyone and everything out of his way. He’d run as fast as he could away from them all, and ended up here. Just where 'here' was, though, he had no idea.
He’d passed a few other dingy shops before he practically collapsed in this doorway. He knew it was a rough place by the smell of piss, the fag ends and litter lying about, and the paint peeling off the dirty red paint-work he could see peeping out from behind the metal shutters on the door and window, which were covered in graffiti. There were countless spiders scurrying around, and the odd adventurous beetle. He guessed that it was close to one o'clock in the morning, but where the hell was he?
He lifted his head when he heard shouting coming from what he thought was a flat above the shop, and sighed. He’d heard plenty of shouting in his life, a harsh raised voice was nothing new, and he doubted strongly if anyone could come up with something he’d never heard before.
His mother used to shout at him all the time - well, when she was actually conscious, and not in negotiations with some creep or another, haggling over the price of her, or his body. For years he had hated her for the life she’d given him. Not once had he seen the inside of a school. His reading skills had been taught to him by her, and that was only because she used books to escape her own dreary existence. But now he finally knew the reason why she’d been the way she had.
He tried as hard as he could to find some pity for her, but the wounds were still too raw. He shuddered. No one should ever be allowed the life he’d lived.
He’d spent most of that life hating everything and everybody, mostly for no reason, just the fact that they, and he, existed. And then for a short time he’d thought his life was changing. Meeting Mike Yorke had opened his eyes to a different life altogether, to real people, to kindness, to unselfishness, and then to Aunt May.
Living on Holy Island with Aunt May had been a dream come true. At last he’d felt as if life was worth living. He was finally free. Free from the absolute horror of just existing, of being a complete nobody that nobody cared about, just another waif and stray on the streets.
But that bubble had soon burst. Shame on me for thinking it could go on forever. And now Mike Yorke was missing, and a whole new can of worms had opened up. Light filtered down from the flat upstairs, making it quite easy to see. He flicked a tear off his cheek, and rubbed the wetness between his finger and thumb. Then he took his cigarettes out and fumbled in his pocket for his lighter, slightly worried for a moment in case he’d lost it. Then his fingers closed around it, and, pulling the lighter out, he lit up.
He took a huge drag and filled his lungs, holding it for a moment before realising it into the dark sky. A few seconds later, he gasped and his body jumped in shock as the upstairs window exploded outwards, showering glass all around. In the middle of the shower, just a foot from where he was sitting, lay the shattered remains of a heavy crystal flower vase, some of the pieces still trembling. The yellow roses that the vase had held were crushed and scattered. For a moment, he was hypnotised by a large piece of the broken glass as it caught the light. His hand reached out, as his tongue quickly ran across his dry lips.
There was a certain release in the glass, release in the blood that would flow from his body with the aid of that single shiny piece of glass, taking the pain inside away. All he had to do was pick it up. That’s all. Just reach out.
Now…Do it!
Easy!
He sighed. His need was huge.
His longing was huge.
Aching inside with the need, and hearing the glass call to him, he stretched out his arm.
His fingers touched the glass. Gently, with his other hand, he brushed a spider away then, with the same finger and thumb that had rubbed the tear off his cheek, he caressed the piece of glass, a small smile on his face.
So easy!
His fingers closed around the glass, and he brought it close to his smiling face. ‘So, so easy.
‘End it all now, the way out!’
NORWICH
CHAPTER SIX
At the same time as Smiler was contemplating ending it all, a girl he had never met, but who was just as much a victim of the families as he was, woke up.
Shelly Monroe lay on her bed staring at the ceiling. There was a gap in the curtain and the full moon spilled into the room. Tears ran down her face and she didn’t have the energy or the strength to wipe them away. Not for the first time, she’d been crying in her sleep.
Everything is such a mess, and it’s mostly my own fault, she thought, thinking back to over a year ago when she’d first been introduced to drugs via her friend Alicia and the Leader.
It wasn’t fair that everyone thought that Alicia had been a sweet angel. The truth is she had been far from it.
And now I, and Danny, are both in serious trouble.
In fact, we might as well be dead.
As dead as Alicia.
Her heart sank even further. ‘Poor Alicia,’ she sobbed. ‘She didn’t deserve what the bastards did to her. At the end of the day, she was a really great girl once, until those pricks got their hands on her. Then, like every other girl or boy trapped by their need, she would do anything to satisfy that need.’
She sighed and sat up. She thought she’d been low before, but she had never in her whole life been in such a dark place as this. She felt as if there was nothing left to live for, no reason why, and it was impossible to die.
She’d tried refusing her insulin, but they had only sat on her and injected her themselves, before force-feeding her. Throwing up hadn’t helped, because then they had poured sugary drinks down her throat. Everything had been removed from the room. Nothing sharp had been left lying about, even the laces from her shoes had been taken out.
I’m as much a fucking prisoner as I was before!
‘Damn.’
If these stupid idiots think they can outwit the families, they’re in for a hell of a shock. Because they’ll find me, I know they will. It’s just a matter of time, that’s all.
Tomorrow.
The next day.
They seem nice enough people, but their delusion makes me want to puke and fucking laugh my head off at the same time.
They’ve been around for centuries, nearly as long as the families have, fighting them in different ways. Oh yes, I just bet they have. Probably as entertainment for the fucking families. Bet the horrible sods piss themselves laughing all the time.
She gripped the sheet angrily, before suddenly gasping. ‘That’s the way,’ she muttered, swinging her legs off the bed.
Why wait for them bastards to come and torture me to death, ‘cos whatever the idiots think, I’m not safe here - and neither are they, once the fucking families find them. And they will. This way I’ll at least rob them of that satisfaction.
What sort of life have I got now?
Not one worth living, that’s a fact.
For a mom
ent she froze as a picture of Danny entered her mind, then jumped to the four of them picnicking down by the river on a hot summer's day, shortly before Alicia introduced her to drugs, and then the Leader.
At the image of the Leader, she shuddered, breaking the spell. She grabbed the sheet and examined it. Finding a tiny hole in one of the corners, she pushed her thumb through and made it bigger, then pulled hard, managing to rip the sheet down to the bottom. Ten minutes later, after much tugging and heaving, she had three strips long enough for what she wanted and quickly began to plait them.
Now, how the hell? She looked up at the ceiling. The house was quite old, built in the last century, and in all the rooms the ceilings were very high. 'Will the light fitting take my weight?' she wondered, staring up at the brass fitting. ‘Won't know until I try.’
She grabbed hold of the bedside cabinet and, taking care to be very quiet, she pulled it underneath the light. Climbing on top, she unscrewed the lampshade. After placing it on the floor, she looped the rope sheet twice around the fitting, then around her neck and back over the fitting. For a brief moment, she paused. There were too many thoughts rushing through her head for her to make any sense out of them.
‘Just do it,’ she muttered.
With sudden determination, she raised one foot, and with the other kicked the cabinet over.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Outside Shelly’s bedroom door, Coral sat reading. She loved a good horror story and had a bookshelf full of them, all in alphabetical order. Some of her friends laughed, asking if she hadn’t had enough horror in her life. Her stock reply was, 'That’s why I read these books, to get a damn good laugh! Most people in this life don’t know the true horror of living.'
She paused at a particularly gruesome bit, and turned her head towards the bedroom door.
Is that Shelly moving about? She thought with a frown. Then she heard a loud crash. Quickly, she threw the book down and was on her feet, hurrying into the bedroom.
‘Oh, my God,’ she gasped, a moment later.
Shelly was hanging in front of her, her legs thrashing back and forth and her eyes bulging out of her purple face. She grabbed Shelly’s legs, taking her weight, screaming for Ella to help.
Ella, though, was a heavy sleeper and it took a few minutes for Coral’s voice to penetrate. Annya, however, was already awake, the peacefulness of sleep having evaded her yet again. Stumbling out of her bedroom and wondering what all the screaming was about, she yelled down the stairs, ‘What’s up, Coral?’
‘Quick, wake Ella, and bring something sharp.’
‘I’m up, Coral.’ Ella came out of her bedroom and, hearing Coral’s last words, she ushered Annya back to bed.
Oh God, that can only mean one thing, Ella thought, as she ran downstairs and into the kitchen. She pulled the drawer open, only it stuck, too much cutlery in as usual.
‘Come on!’ she yelled, shaking the drawer in desperation.
Whatever had been blocking it finally moved and the drawer burst open, spilling its contents on the floor. On her hands and knees, Ella frantically tried to find the scissors. Finally spotting them under a couple of white spatulas, she was about to grab them when Annya, who had ignored her about going back to bed, quickly grabbed them, and passing them to Ella they both ran to Shelly’s bedroom.
‘Shit!’ Ella yelled when she entered. Even though it was basically what she expected, it was still a shock. Annya took one look through the door, saw Shelly hanging from the ceiling and, not taking in the fact that Coral was taking most of Shelly’s weight, slid down the door in a faint.
Climbing onto the bed and stretching over, Ella quickly cut the rope sheet. Both Shelly and Coral collapsed onto the floor. Above them the light fitting swung from side to side.
Ella untied the rope sheet from Shelly’s neck, and checked for signs of breathing. Finding none, she quickly started mouth to mouth. It took a minute or two, but suddenly Shelly gasped and drew air into her lungs.
‘Thank God,’ Coral said.
Ella rocked back on her heels. ‘What the hell happened?’ She looked at Coral. ‘Thought we had everything covered.’
Staring at Shelly, Coral shook her head as she puffed the air out of her cheeks. A bashful Shelly rose to a sitting position and put her head in her hands.
‘Do we need to send for an ambulance?’ Ella asked, staring at Shelly with a worried frown on her face. ‘Will she be all right?’
‘No, it's fine. She just passed out for a minute.’
‘Sure?’
‘I am here, you know,’ Shelly snapped, lifting her head and staring at Coral.
‘And don’t we know it,’ Coral snapped back, ignoring the frown Ella now threw her way.
‘Look, Shelly love.’ Coral sighed, then went on more gently, as she rubbed Shelly’s shoulder. ‘Just about everyone in this house, and those who have passed through it, have been exactly where you are today. That’s why we’re here to help in every way we can. Trust me, we do know what you’re going through. And you aren’t the only one who has gone this far.’
Ella patted Shelly’s hand. ‘Talk to us love. Come on, just talk to us. We’re here for you,’ she said compassionately. ‘We’ll do everything we can, all of us. You aren’t alone any more.’
Somehow this made Shelly feel worse. She stared at Ella’s hand and burst into tears.
Coming in from the doorway, Annya knelt down and, taking Shelly in her arms, cradled her until her sobs subsided.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Suddenly, as if he’d been stung, Smiler’s hand flew to his chest.
‘No,’ he muttered. ‘No…I promised. I promised I wouldn’t ever do it again.’ His hand shook as if it had a life of its own, or as if a drunken puppeteer had control of it. He slapped his other hand over the top of his treacherous fingers. ‘No. I won't do it.’ He pictured Aunt May smiling at him, and gathered strength from her image. ‘No.’
‘Get out!’ A man’s voice yelled into the quiet, completely breaking the spell the glass had cast over him.
Startled, Smiler dropped the piece of glass as the voice went on, ‘I never ever want to see you again. I can’t take it any more, You’re a fucking crackerjack. Get out.’
‘Fuck off.’
‘No! I should have listened to my sister. She was right about you all along. Just get out.’
‘No, you get out before you follow the fucking flower vase,’ a woman screamed in retaliation.
Raising his eyebrows for a moment, Smiler thought, truth be told, I really shouldn’t be surprised to find out that the woman is the aggressor. Seen it on more than one occasion.
‘Gotta get outta here,’ he muttered. ‘Not safe!’
He shrugged and gave a small joyless laugh. ‘Is anywhere safe?’
Standing up, he waited a moment before creeping silently away from the doorway, his back against the shuttered window, all the while looking cautiously upwards in case the woman followed through with her threat. A few moments later he was at the bottom of the street. Turning, he looked back. Nothing else had followed the flower vase out the window, no bodies lying on the hard ground, and the participants had fallen silent.
‘Crazy bastards,’ he muttered. Turning back, he took a deep breath and, head down, plodded on.
I wonder if it’s me? he was thinking, as he turned into a main street which, after a moment or two staring at the buildings, he recognised.
Hmm. His thoughts drifted back to four or five summers ago. He shuddered. This was where he’d first met a guy named Snakes, just about the evillest person on the whole fucking planet - well, that’s apart from the bastards who own the whole fucking place - and this was Snakes' patch.
Not one person, not even his own fucking mother liked Snakes. Smiler remembered the look of fear on her face one day when he’d knocked about with him, and they’d turned up unexpectedly at her house. Snakes had emptied her purse, as well as her pockets, and had even taken the meat pie off her plate, then tipped it up and let
the peas and gravy flow onto the table. Not one single word had been exchanged between them. His mother had just stared into space, terrified, her whole body shaking,
For a moment Smiler felt a chill of fear. He took a deep breath. His last parting with Snakes had not been a good one. He remembered the pills trickling into the gutter when he’d thrown them right back in his face.
Shaking the fear off, he diverted his thoughts back to what he’d been thinking before. Anything, anything at all to get the frightening vision of Snakes out of his mind.
It’s got to be me, everything I touch.
Everyone I fucking well know, something happens to them.
It’s like someone cursed me. He stopped walking and, frustration tearing him apart, he thrust his hands into his pockets.
‘Because, actually, truly, I was fucking cursed,’ he muttered, remembering what Rita had said about the experiments.
He shook his head, then stared ahead of him at the pubs, even at this dark hour still with their lights blazing out into the night, music blasting loudly and people hovering around the doors. Smokers mostly, he guessed.
He could hear laughing, shouting, the odd snatch of a song, and wondered if he should go on, or turn and head back the way he’d come. After a moment he decided to risk it. The street was full of revellers, with more spilling out of the pubs by the minute, though that meant nothing. There wasn’t always safety in numbers, and only fools thought otherwise.
Anyhow, Snakes could be miles away.
Probably on the other side of London, peddling his wares.
Spreading out, picking up more and more stupid silly kids who thought they were invincible, and that they could never become addicted to whatever shit was out there.
Fools!
Once they get a taste of this new shit, it’s the beginning of the end.
Sadly, he shook his head and moved on.
Did I listen? he asked himself as, trying to remain invisible, he kept his head down so as not to meet anyone's eyes.
Holy Island Trilogy 03 - The Final Countdown Page 3
