The Exchange

by Park, J. R.

  Not that hiding had done them much good.

  ‘When we get out of this, Sam is going to lose his shit over his van,’ Ollie remarked with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

  The van was used in Sam’s trade as a builder and the ride had been uncomfortable as they had dived into the back, forcing Ollie to lie on a bag of tools. But at the time comfort was not a consideration, only survival was.

  Ollie pressed his bruised thigh. It stung at the point where he had landed on an exposed drill bit. He hadn’t felt it at the time, adrenalin acting as a powerful pain suppressant, but as its effects drained away, the pain began to grow.

  Leaving the bruise to throb, he rubbed his head and pondered.

  Sam was a builder but Ollie knew him for his other vocation; that of obtaining and dealing the best weed west of the city. Sam moved in shadowy worlds as he scored his sought after contraband, but Ollie had never seen such an outburst from the stocky muscleman. Maybe it was because Sam had been so angry about his vehicle, but even that was no excuse to what Ollie had just witnessed. He shuddered as he recalled it. He knew never to cross his friend, but that was just insane. It didn’t matter whether he scored the best marijuana or not, Sam was not a man Ollie wanted to get mixed up with any more.

  But if it wasn’t for his crazy friend calling out in his van and making a getaway they might have all been goners anyway. Confused by his own reasoning he abandoned this line of thinking and refocused on the present.

  Ollie turned his attention across the wasteland. In the distance he could see Jake, Sam and Eleanor. They had arrived at the meeting point with the briefcase as planned. Straining his eyes he could just make out Laura slumped to the floor beneath one of their pursuers.

  If they hadn’t accidentally left Laura in the clutches of the others they all could have walked away from this; dumped the case and just ran.

  I hope she’s alright, he thought. That bitch with blonde hair looked pretty mean, but, he confessed, kind of hot. Better than the other…

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ Ollie muttered, beginning to vocalise his thoughts, ‘wasn’t there another woman? Hey Kayleigh,’ he shouted back into the building, ‘weren’t there two women with that lot? Kayleigh? Kayleigh!’

  Ollie’s voice echoed down the corridor, but by the time it reached Kayleigh’s ears it had lost all recognisable form. It was as if the darkness had swallowed the sound. She squeezed the charm in her pocket tightly for courage as she shuffled forward through the swirling blackness of the abandoned building. With no electricity to light the way her surroundings grew darker the deeper she went. The lack of light caused no problems though, she knew where she was going; retracing the steps she had taken only a few moments earlier.

  Kayleigh had been thankful to leave the basement before, pushing past her friends to vacate the scene of torture and brutality. But as they stood in the doorway watching Sam and Eleanor walk off to meet Jake with the briefcase and make the exchange, her mind had drifted back to the man in the darkness. She felt something silently call her, willing her to make the pitch black journey down the staircase to where the wretched man sat, trussed up and bleeding.

  Edging her feet against the end of each step and lowering herself gently, Kayleigh carefully made her way down the stairs, back to the basement where moments earlier they’d been hiding like scared animals, trying to make sense of what had happened.

  Even now she didn’t have a clue.

  Her thoughts had been a collage of confusion since she’d woken up this morning. Despite the crazy events and situations this Sunday afternoon had brought her, Kayleigh had been unable to shake the dream she’d woken from with such a terrible fright. Despite the gun shots, despite the car chase, despite the death threats, the dream refused to leave her.

  As she approached the bottom of the stairs, the sound of water droplets echoed unseen in the subterranean level. Kayleigh placed her hands against the cold, damp wall and peeked round the corner, spying on their wounded hostage. Her stomach grew light, feeling like it was crawling round her body, desperate to climb up her throat and out through her mouth. An attempt to swallow only resulted in an involuntary shiver.

  Her ears rang with a shrill whine against the eerie calm. Unknown whispers seemed to call behind the high-pitched frequency, both their origins and meaning lost to their audible subtlety.

  She thought back to her plagued sleep. The deathly vision that had seeped through the blackness of her unconscious. Those piercing, hellish eyes.

  She gripped her stomach and held her breath.

  Knight lifted his head and, without turning to face her, spoke softly.

  ‘Hello my dear,’ he said, ‘you have something of mine.’

  Kayleigh stepped forward, and through the inky atmosphere her image, washed of colour, fell into his view. The metallic frame of her glasses glinted from the slivers of light that somehow managed to weakly filter into these depths. Her long, straight hair rested gently on her shoulders and hung just past her breasts. Her face was one of concern and worry.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she spoke with sincerity, ‘we didn’t want this.’

  ‘What did you want?’ Knight asked.

  ‘I don’t know. Not this! We have no control over Sam,’ Kayleigh stepped back, suddenly wary of her prisoner, ‘he’s a psycho. I had no idea he was going to cut your hand off. Fucking hell, that’s your hand…’

  A tear fell gently down her cheek. Knight seemed unmoved by this display of compassion.

  ‘We tried to stop him,’ she continued, ‘but he’s so big. He’s so scary. If you’d have been conscious you would have seen us trying to stop him.’

  ‘He wants the case,’ Knight spoke matter-of-factly.

  ‘But he doesn’t even know what’s in it.’

  ‘That matters little to Sam. He feels the pull, the desire. He senses the power. People do scary things for the contents of that case. Very scary things.’ He turned his head to face her. ‘Are you scared now, Kayleigh?’

  ‘How do you know my name?’ Kayleigh sounded startled, surprised by the knowledge of this apparent stranger.

  She thought back to her dream. Those horrid eyes. The pain in her stomach. The blood draining from her body.

  Her nightmarish vision began to spread through her thoughts, uncontrolled and untamed. Fragmented memories of her dream began to expand, filling in the gaps that her sudden waking this morning had left, clouding the girl’s mind with dread and horror.

  ‘I know many things, Kayleigh. Things you wouldn’t even dare to imagine. I know your name. I know where you live. I know you hold yourself back and refuse to let go.’

  Knight smiled as the girl edged backwards in the gloom.

  ‘I know what you dreamt last night.’

  ‘Only an imbecile would dare stand in our way,’ Scullin remarked in a chillingly flat tone.

  Jake looked on, holding his ground and trying desperately to keep his nerve.

  Overhead the grey clouds grew darker, their presence heavy in the sky as they congregated above the ground where the two groups stood. A distant rumble of thunder felt its way through the claustrophobic summer air, like a growling beast warning of its hostile nature.

  ‘What’s in the case?’ Sam snarled through his bushy, red beard.

  Eleanor stood pensively behind him, chewing her nails with worry.

  ‘You’ve tried to open it,’ Scullin eyed the briefcase that stood between them, its battered and scratched outer clearly displayed their attempts at an enforced entry. ‘No luck I see. Hardly a surprise.’

  The heavy chain secured to the case had coiled on the floor beside it. The grisly contents at the other end of the heavy-duty links nestled in the centre of the circular pattern. Knight’s severed hand was ghostly white, the blood long since drained from the hacked flesh of its barbaric amputation. Loose tendrils of skin trailed from the mangled wrist and flapped in the growing wind like rags on a washing line.

  Jake looked towards Laura as she lay at
Cross’s feet. The vicious, blood-soaked woman grinned maliciously behind her sunglasses, causing Jake’s mouth to dry.

  ‘What’s in it?’ Sam barked again, his temper beginning to flare once more.

  ‘Nothing for your eyes,’ Scullin scoffed. ‘But you want it don’t you? You want its secrets. I know you can feel it, Sam. You can feel its power.’

  ‘How do you know my name?’ Sam bellowed, thumping his chest in a sign of aggression, angry that he identified with the other man’s words. He glanced at the case between them and heard its contents silently call. ‘You’d better open up that briefcase,’ he threatened Scullin.

  ‘It seems were at a deadlock. The case is before us, but sealed shut. The key you stole from Knight is useless without its counterpart. In turn, the one I possess will be nothing without the other. So return to me what you stole,’ Scullin commanded. ‘Give me back the key.’

  ‘Guys?’ Jake turned to his friends, confused by the demand.

  Sam and Eleanor’s blank faces mirrored his. They hadn’t seen a key.

  Duell stepped towards Scullin, weary of this exchange. ‘We don’t need to put up with this,’ he whispered to his leader in an irritated tone. ‘Let’s just take them out. There must be another way to find Knight and flush out the-’

  ‘We don’t have your key,’ Jake said turning back. ‘I don’t want any tricks. I want to play this straight. You take the case, we take the girl. We tell you where your friend’s hidden and we’ll all walk away. Deal?’

  Scullin clenched his jaw, his sunglasses masking his reaction as he silently regarded the eighteen year old that stood in front of him. Jake’s last words hung in the air, their authority dissolving in the proceeding silence.

  ‘Lies. If I give you the girl, what means do I have of holding you to your end of the bargain? I’d be a fool to give her up so easily,’ Scullin rasped through gritted teeth, eventually breaking the quiet. ‘Take us to Knight.’

  Spurred on by the outburst, Cross leant forward and took hold of her prisoner. Laura tried her best not to cry out as Cross gripped her neck, but as her tormentor’s fingernails broke her skin the pain proved too much. Blood trickled from the wounds and down her nape, soaking into her blue, denim dress.

  ‘You bitch,’ Laura cursed in protest, gasping for air.

  Cross continued to squeeze, choking her victim whilst all the while watching Jake and his companions with an evil intensity that begged them to come at her.

  ‘Oh come on, little boy,’ she mocked, watching Jake grow angry, powerless to stop the torture. ‘Please, try it.’

  Laura’s face grew red as she thrashed around in Cross’s hold, growing weaker by the second. Her cheeks turning a shade of purple before she was released from the grip and thrown to the floor. She gasped wildly for air and held her bruised throat.

  ‘Why are we playing these games?’ Duell muttered to himself.

  Taking a handful of Laura’s hair, Cross pulled her hostage back onto her knees. Tilting the poor girl’s head forward she clawed at her exposed neck, raking Laura’s flesh and tearing four savage wounds that instantly filled with dark, red blood.

  ‘Stop this!’ Eleanor shouted, halting Sam in his tracks before he had a chance to charge forward.

  She was a naturally nervous girl without a drink in her hand, but the suffering of her best friend forced an outburst. The two had been inseparable since the age of five, and although leaving her behind earlier had been an accident, it still caused guilt to gnaw away at Eleanor’s insides.

  ‘Leave her alone! She hasn’t done anything,’ Eleanor continued, trying to talk some sense into the situation. ‘Let’s make the trade and-’

  Laura screamed as Cross squeezed the girl’s neck, forcing blood to pump from her wounds.

  ‘I thought you loved me, Jake,’ the captive girl cried as Cross gleefully licked the teenager’s blood from her fingers. ‘Ellie, why did you leave me? Please, make them stop.’

  Cross raised her hand behind her head once more, preparing to slash her blood drenched talons across the girl’s cheek, as she turned Laura to face her. The nineteen year old stared wide-eyed, unable to break free from her tormentor’s powerful grip.

  ‘We cut your man’s hand off,’ desperation peppered Jake’s words. Abhorred, as he had been by Sam’s previously crazed attack, he now used it as a weapon; some leverage in bargaining for Laura’s safety. ‘We’ve done as you said. As you called out. We came out of hiding and brought the briefcase. Make the exchange and we’ll tell you where you can find your friend.’ Jake raised his fist in anger, stifling tears that collected behind his eyes. He shouted as he tried to mask his wavering nerves. ‘We’ll do a lot more to him if you don’t hand back the girl.’

  ‘What about the key?’ Scullin demanded.

  ‘Jake…’ Laura called feebly, terrified as Cross’s arm poised with the menace of a coiled cobra.

  ‘My friends have it!’ Jake blurted out. It was a lie, but as Cross threw Laura to the ground and turned her attention back to the group, it had the outcome he’d desired.

  ‘And where are they?’ Scullin’s words took on a new intensity.

  ‘Not until you hand back the girl,’ said Jake, standing his ground.

  Duell grabbed his leader’s arm, just above the elbow and gently squeezed it, attracting his attention. ‘We can take them,’ his frustration spoken in hushed tones so only Scullin could hear. ‘Why are we playing around? Fuck Knight, he’s bleeding to death anyway. Let him die.’

  Scullin flexed his bicep, expanding its size enough to break Duell’s grip.

  ‘If we lose that key we’ll never get the case open in time,’ Scullin spoke with a calm that was nearing the limits of its patience. ‘We can’t miss this chance. Everything has fallen into place.’

  ‘But-’ Duell tried to respond.

  ‘He’s right,’ King interrupted. ‘It’s of no coincidence the opportunity presented itself to us at the time of the Calling. We’ve been so careful to execute our plan. And maybe this is some kind of test. But we can’t miss this window. We need that key.’

  ‘Tell me, Jake,’ Scullin began, refocusing his attention, ‘earlier today, before our unfortunate encounter, did you turn back and look at the police officer that was chasing you? Did you get a good look at their face?’

  Confused, Jake’s mind tried its best to reach back in time, to remember the chase with the authorities earlier this morning.

  Scullin laughed to see his reaction. ‘Of course, you’re not used to seeing her in uniform, are you? She’s so new to the force.’

  Jake’s complexion grew paler as the words sunk in.

  ‘Please,’ Scullin turned to Duell, ‘go to the car and retrieve our guest in blue.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ Duell replied, his voice as steely-cold as his chiselled expression.

  Turning around and heading away from the group, the faintest trace of a smile plagued the corners of his mouth.

  ‘No. You didn’t… You can’t…’ Jake struggled to find speech as his thoughts flooded with abhorrent possibilities.

  ‘Oh, we haven’t hurt her… yet. At least, not much.’ Shades of sadistic pleasure resonated through Scullin’s voice. ‘You will tell us where you have Knight, and where you’ve hidden the key, otherwise you’ll be watching Special Constable Forrest draw her last, agonising breath.’

  ‘No…’ Jake’s voice faded, swallowed up by the wind.

  ‘If you don’t cooperate you’d best prepare to say goodbye, Jake Forrest. Say goodbye to your sister.’

  Through tinted glass the storm looked even more threatening as the foreboding darkness deepened. Special Constable Aimee Forrest slowly regained consciousness; as she did so her eyes fell on the view through the darkened window of a limousine. In the distance a group of figures stood in two opposing groups amidst the barren landscape of a sprawling building site. Still dazed, she sat upright in the back of the luxury car, igniting fires of agony through her body. Her head throbbed as she fel
t the warm, wet tenderness of her wounded temple.

  Her thoughts slewed together as she tried to make sense of her surroundings, fighting through a fog of semi-consciousness and pain.

  The interior of the limousine was a hazy patchwork of white and red, but as her eyes began to focus she soon realised the strawberry and cream décor was something far more sinister. Her fingers reached out and touched the red pattern, smearing it across the white background. It stuck to her fingers and wafted a metallic smell, stimulating her nostrils to flare at the familiar, but unwelcome odour. Looking round she saw the same red, splattered throughout the inside of the vehicle, from the floor to the ceiling, and smeared across the tinted windows.

  The blood was fresh.

  Outside she could see the shape of another vehicle. A black Audi A5 stood motionless and seemingly unoccupied.

  Turning around she caught sight of something crumpled in the furthest corner of the limousine. Its limbs bent at awkward angles over the leather interior.

  Aimee held her breath as the memories came flooding back.

  ‘Osborne,’ she whispered, scared of making too loud a sound.

  She slid beside her colleague as he lay, sprawled out on the back seat, his uniform soaked to an even darker shade as a growing pool of crimson surrounded his broken body.

  ‘Osborne,’ she whispered again, quietly but firmly.

  Fearing the worst, Aimee placed her hands against his throat, sighing deeply with relief when she felt a pulse. It was weak but he was still alive. Forcing his vest up, she searched for the source of the bleeding and located three ragged holes across his stomach. Remembering her training she straightened her fingers and plunged them deep inside the bloody openings.

  PC Osborne’s eyes shot open as the pain of her gruesome first aid surged through his body. His shoulders shook and his eyes rolled wildly as she pushed into his tender flesh. Pathetically he flailed like the protests of a rag doll, until at last he focused on the Special Constable with a look of recognition and a quietening sense of calm.