The Taken

by Casey Kelleher

  Dazed and confused, she had no idea where she was; no recollection of how she had got there.

  Something was next to her, on the floor, next to her thigh.

  Roza.

  Relieved, Lena reached out to touch her daughter. Wanting to scoop her up in her arms, to comfort her child, expecting to feel the warmth of her child’s body, the soft mop of her hair.

  Instead she felt the coolness of plastic limbs – a soft padded body. It was the doll that she’d seen earlier.

  She knew where she was now. She was inside the cupboard in Colin’s bedroom. The harrowing scene from earlier filled her head as she remembered.

  Colin, his mother, all of those dolls.

  Roza? Where was Roza?

  Pulling herself onto her knees, she leant forward, her eye drawn to the crack of light that shone through the gap in the cupboard door. He hadn’t blocked her in completely; the dresser was still over in the middle of the floor. The light from the bedroom flickered.

  There was movement. She could hear voices now.

  Colin’s. That low, disjointed humming sound. He was singing to himself again.

  Placing her eye to the crack in the door, Lena could see the child then. Splayed out on the bed, her skin waxy, her eyes closed. As if she was sleeping.

  Only she wasn’t sleeping, Lena knew that.

  The child was dead.

  Colin sat down on the bed next to the girl. Singing to himself. The lilt to his voice deranged, almost as if he was in some kind of trance.

  His eyes were fixated on the dead child as he concentrated on brushing her hair.

  Lena was horrified. The poor girl. Snatched from her grave. No one even knew she was here. Her family would be mourning her, grieving her loss, unaware that her grave lay empty. That this monster had exhumed her body.

  A sudden movement on the bed caught Lena’s eye.

  It caught Colin’s too.

  Stopping what he was doing, he put down his brush, his attention caught on something else now. His face showing intrigue, fascination. Then Lena watched in horror as the man picked up Roza, comforting her as she started to cry.

  He looked startled by how tiny she was. How precious.

  ‘It’s okay, Karen,’ he sang softly. ‘You’re back home with me now. You’re back home with your big brother Colin. You don’t need to be scared anymore. I’m going to look after you.’

  Rocking the baby, Colin smiled. ‘No one will take you away from me ever again.’

  Hugging Roza to his chest, he kissed her gently on the forehead.

  That’s when Lena started to scream.

  46

  ‘What the fuck was that?’ Misty stared at Saskia.

  They could both hear the noise loud and clear. A blood-curdling scream coming from inside the flat.

  It was Lena.

  ‘We need to get in there.’

  Scanning the front of the flat, desperate now, Saskia looked for a way to get inside.

  Greenwood Estate was notorious in Battersea. Overrun with gangs and the unemployed, the place looked like a prison, the windows of the flats all secured with metal bars. The only way in was through the front door and neither of them were strong enough to break it down.

  ‘What about the police?’ Misty said now, her hand reaching inside her bag, fumbling for her mobile phone.

  ‘We haven’t got time. You heard that noise. By the time the police get here who knows what that psycho would have done to her. We need to get inside.’

  Misty knew that Saskia was right. They had to move fast.

  Staring at her friend’s hair, still pinned up in a bun from how she’d tied it up after working at the club tonight, Misty held her hand out. ‘Give me a couple of your hair grips.’

  Saskia looked at her friend, confused.

  ‘You want to get in there yeah, then give me your grips. Do you know how many times I’ve locked myself out of my flat? Too bloody many. I’m a pro. Come on, I need two.’

  Doing as she was told, Saskia picked out two clips from her hair, passing them to her friend.

  ‘Here, hold my bag.’

  Stepping towards the front of the door, Misty twisted the metal in her fingers as she expertly bent one of the grips at its end, then the other one halfway down. She got to work, slipping them inside the lock; her hands shaking nervously as she tried to keep them steady.

  The flat had gone quiet now.

  ‘Is it working?’ Saskia asked as she watched Misty fumbling, sweeping the barrel with the second grip, her fingers moving fast as if she was working to some kind of sequence.

  ‘Fuck!’

  She dropped one of the pins.

  Bending down, Saskia picked it up for her. ‘Here.’

  Misty had to start the whole process again; the pressure of getting inside the flat getting to her now as they heard another shrill scream ring out.

  ‘I can’t do it. It’s not bloody working.’

  Her hands were shaking so hard that she couldn’t get the momentum right.

  ‘Just give it one more try,’ Saskia said. ‘Please Misty… ’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Misty knew she couldn’t give up. She wanted to get inside the flat as much as Saskia did.

  Twisting her fingers around in circular motions, moving the second pin slowly with the first.

  Click.

  ‘You little beauty!’ Misty grinned as the lock sprang open.

  They both looked one to the other, willing each other to pluck up the courage to go inside. Pushing the door ajar slowly the girls cautiously peered inside the dark hallway; the overwhelming stench of the place hitting them with such force they recoiled.

  They both listened out, suddenly hearing something much scarier than the screaming they’d heard before. An eerie silence.

  Were they too late?

  47

  ‘Well, well! Isn’t this fucking cosy.’

  The voice coming from behind shocked them both.

  Turning around, Misty and Saskia stopped dead in the middle of the hallway as they were met with the sight of Vincent Harper, leaning against the open doorway, a conceited smirk spread across his face.

  ‘Fancy seeing you both here? Fucking uncanny, huh?’

  Seeing the shocked expressions on the two girls’ faces, Vincent could only laugh.

  These two really were as thick as shit.

  ‘You two must have thought that you were really clever, thinking you pulled a fast one on me. Only I’ve been onto you.’

  Vincent stepped inside the house now. His voice low, controlled.

  ‘The pair of you wear that much cheap fucking perfume you could have gouged my fucking eyes out and I’d have still been able to sniff the pair of you out playing fucking hide-n-seek in those bushes down at the cemetery.’ Tutting now, Vincent shook his head as he spoke. ‘Thought I’d have some fun didn’t I; thought I’d play you two conniving bitches at your own game. Even pretended to call my brother up and make out I’d lost you. He doesn’t even know I’m here. That’s what a clever cunt I can be. I fooled you both, huh? Made you both think that I’d buggered off when really I was around the corner. Give people enough rope and they always hang themselves in the end.’ Vincent stared from Misty to Saskia, smugly.

  It never ceased to amaze him how conniving women could be, but he was always one step ahead.

  ‘Where is she then?’

  Saskia nodded her head inside the flat.

  ‘Something’s not right. We think she’s in trouble—’

  ‘Oh she’s in trouble all right. The amount of bleeding aggro that bloody girl has caused me today. I’ve turned half of London upside down looking for her—’ Vincent pushed his way past the girls now.

  ‘Wait!’ Stopping Vincent mid-sentence, Misty’s voice sounded urgent, panicked. ‘There’s someone in there with her, a man. She’s in real trouble, Vincent… ’

  ‘Is that so?’ Vincent grinned now. Tonight was just getting better and better.

  Saskia must be talking
about the other two Albanian numbskulls that he’d been looking for. Korab and Ramiz. Three for the price of two. This was fucking child’s play.

  Pulling out his gun, Vincent nodded towards the doorway behind him, indicating to the girls to leave.

  ‘You two have caused me enough bleeding grief today an’ all. Stay out there, out of my way,’ he ordered, pointing to the front door. ‘I’ll deal with this.’

  Seeing the gun in Vincent’s hand the girls did as they were told. At least with a gun, Vincent had the upper hand.

  Right now, he was the only hope they had.

  Treading carefully through the hallway so that he didn’t make a sound, Vincent screwed his face up in disgust.

  The flat was fucking disgusting. Not only was it dingy and outdated, decorated like something his old granny would have lived in, but it smelt fucking rotten. Like something had died in here. Damp, mould. Rotten vegetables. The smell was rancid.

  Coming to the first doorway, Vincent peered in, noting that the door was hanging off its hinges. The wooden doorframe was split, damaged, as if it had been forced open.

  The bedroom was empty. The bed upturned, broken. Books, clothes and other crap covered every inch of floor space. The place was a shit tip.

  Wrinkling his face in disgust he continued down the hallway. Reaching the next door, he could hear loud voices blaring out, a TV? Someone was in there.

  Opening the door Vincent stepped inside the room with caution, looking around, taking in everything all at once. His eyes went straight to the table.

  Giant dolls, like mannequins, sat staring back at him, garish expressions drawn on their white fabric faces.

  Freaky as fuck.

  The stench in the room was unreal. Vincent heaved. Spitting out the watery phlegm onto the carpet.

  The girl from the boat, Lena, sat at the head of the table. She was clutching her child tightly to her as she stared back at him. Her body rigid. Unmoving.

  The only good thing that Lena could focus on was that, for now, she’d been given Roza back. She wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardise that.

  ‘Where’s Korab?’ he asked her.

  Lena didn’t answer. She looked as if she was in a trance. The way she was staring at him made Vincent feel on edge. She looked terrified.

  Only it wasn’t his presence here that had had that effect on her.

  It was something else – something much more sinister.

  Vincent saw the woman then.

  Dead. Slumped in the armchair behind Lena.

  This was the cause of the stench, he realised. The flies. There were so many flies.

  ‘What the fucking hell is going on here?’

  Lena still didn’t move.

  She didn’t dare; just stayed deadly still. Obedient. Submissive. Doing exactly as she’d been told to do. Staying put in the chair that Colin had dragged her into. He’d told her if she didn’t stop screaming he would kill her. He’d make her join the rest of his dolls. And he’d meant it too. Taking the cake knife from the table, he’d held it to her throat; a crazed look in his eyes. He’d only stopped himself from killing her when they both heard Vincent entering the flat.

  Colin was still here though, hiding in the room.

  Lena’s eyes flicked towards the door, the subtle movement giving the man’s hiding place away.

  Turning… Vincent was too late.

  Colin had already stepped out from the door, stunning Vincent momentarily as he lifted his gun, ready to aim, fire.

  He wasn’t fast enough.

  Colin struck out. The full force of his punch sent Vincent reeling backwards.

  Reaching down on reflex, Vincent placed his hand to his side, protecting the dull ache in his ribcage. He felt the blood then. Warm, sticky, as it pumped out from his body.

  The bright glare from the TV lit up the room as Colin came towards him once more. Vincent caught the flash of silver in Colin’s hand then, as he lifted it high above his head, ready to strike him with the blade for a second time.

  48

  The pain was immense, engulfing Vincent’s entire body, immobilising him completely. If he could just reach over to where his gun lay, just inches away from him on the floor…

  But Colin was standing over him now; the knife raised above his head. Vincent didn’t have time to try and reach it. He needed to act fast. The blade lunged towards him once more as Vincent rolled to one side, grabbing Colin’s wrist as he struck out, crushing his knuckles with every last bit of force he had left in him. A crunch of bones inside his grip. Screaming in agony, Colin finally dropped the knife.

  Vincent had the edge now.

  This cunt wasn’t Korab or Ramiz. Vincent didn’t have a clue who this man was. All he knew was that he was fighting for his life, and he was going to take great pleasure in taking this fucker out.

  Fuelled now with rage at being attacked, Vincent pulled the man down onto the floor, fighting ferociously.

  The man was tall, but there was nothing to him. He was awkward, clumsy. He wasn’t a fighter.

  Vincent was on top now. The pain in his side was searing through him, making him feel weak, heady, but he wasn’t giving up just yet.

  He couldn’t.

  Grabbing the man roughly by the back of his head with both hands, he began slamming his skull repeatedly off the floor as hard as he could. Vincent had him now. Reaching for his gun, Vincent pointed at the man, ready to finish him off. Then a sharp jab of the man’s knee caught him off guard as it punted him straight between his legs.

  The gun went off.

  Seeing the two men fighting on the floor, Lena looked over towards the doorway.

  If she ran, she might just make it, but it was too much of a risk.

  The two men, writhing around the floor as they fought, were blocking her way.

  Vincent still had the gun in his hand. There was blood all over the carpet now.

  Scared that she was going to get caught in the crossfire Lena scrambled down onto the floor, shaking uncontrollably as she cowered under the table. Clutching Roza tightly, she looked on in horror as the two men continued their struggle.

  Vincent was winning. He was overpowering Colin. Blinded by rage, he had beat him almost unconscious. But he didn’t see that Colin had reached out and grabbed the knife once more; that he was bringing it up towards Vincent’s face.

  Lena did though and screamed. The noise ringing out in the air.

  Confusion spread over Vincent’s face as he registered what had happened.

  The blade had sliced into his flesh, opening up his throat.

  Lena stopped screaming then, engulfed with fear as she watched Vincent slump forward onto the floor, a sickening gurgle coming from his throat.

  He was dying. Choking to death on his own blood.

  Lena was crying hysterically now. Tears streaming down her cheeks. Sobbing.

  Then she saw Colin moving. He was back up on his knees, covered in blood.

  The knife was still gripped in his hand as he looked straight at her.

  49

  ‘We need to get in there!’

  Hearing the second gunshot ring out as they stood huddled together outside on the balcony, trying to stay warm, Saskia looked to Misty, her expression flooded with pure panic.

  Vincent had been in there for ages.

  Something must have happened.

  ‘We can’t! It’s too dangerous, Saskia. You heard what Vincent said. He knows what he’s doing, let him deal with it.’

  ‘But you heard that. Two shots? What if he’s hurt Lena?’

  Saskia was deadly serious now. After what Misty had told her about Shanice being found dead at the club, who knew what Vincent and Joshua Harper were capable of? What if this was all part of their plan. That the first chance they got they would make Lena disappear too? She couldn’t just stand here and do nothing.

  Lena was in there. Roza too.

  A third gunshot ran out loudly then. Echoing.

  ‘What the fuck
is going on in there?’ Saskia cried as she shrugged Misty’s firm grip from her arm. ‘We can’t just stand here. Come on.’

  ‘Sass! Fuck sake!’

  Following her, cautiously, Misty couldn’t let Saskia go in there on her own.

  The flat had gone silent now. Treading quietly inside both girls stared at the broken door hanging off the bedroom that they passed, apprehensive of what else they might find waiting for them.

  Reaching the lounge Saskia pushed open the door, letting out a loud shriek.

  ‘Lena?’

  There was blood everywhere. The floor covered in thick pools of the stuff. Splayed out in the middle of the room was Vincent.

  Dead. A jagged gash across his throat. A stream of blood.

  The man from the cemetery was beside him, a few feet away. A knife in his hand.

  ‘What the hell has happened in here?’ Saskia asked, horrified, as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Misty was standing directly behind her then, her hand covering her mouth. Her eyes were open wide, trying to process the scene in front of them through her shock.

  ‘Lena?’ Saskia spoke again, this time her voice softer as she looked to Lena standing in the middle of the room, the gun still in her hand.

  ‘Lena? He’s dead. They’re both dead.’

  Lena looked as if she was in a trance. Staring down at the man from the cemetery, she was still aiming the gun directly at him.

  ‘Lena?’

  ‘He was coming at me,’ Lena said, her voice shaking. ‘He had the knife in his hand. All that blood. I saw the way he looked at me. He was going to kill me.’

  Lena trembled as she spoke. The memory haunting her.

  Colin had got back on his feet, his eyes boring into hers as he made his way towards her. Unsteady, determined, the bloodied knife still in his hand.

  That strange look in his eyes as he came closer.

  Lena hadn’t had time to think straight; her instincts had taken over. Leaving Roza underneath the table, she’d made a grab for Vincent’s gun and pulled the trigger.