Tar: An apocalyptic horror novella

by Iain Rob Wright

  “I don’t remember. Almost a week ago? I had chewing gum a few days ago.”

  Jesus. “Do the men downstairs know you’re up here?”

  “Probably, but they don’t have a key, and they don’t make a habit of crossing Dominic. They would’ve let me die before letting me out.”

  Finn paced the room, clenching and unclenching his fists. This Dominic was a real piece of work. It went further than Marie. This guy used and abused people like they were playthings. Men like Dominic had been monsters even before the end of the world.

  But was Finn any better?

  I’ve done things too.

  Finn turned to the kid. “Come on, let’s go find you some food.”

  The kid looked like he would burst into tears, but bit his lower lip to fight it. “T-Thank you.”

  “Don’t cry on me,” said Finn. “I’m just getting some grub down you, and then we part ways, once you tell me everything you know about Dominic and where this supermarket warehouse is.”

  “Deal!” The boy nodded and followed Finn into the hallway, but when they passed the bedroom, the kid stopped. “I... just need to get something before we go.”

  “Hey, I’m not hanging around, kid!” Finn was very mindful of the bar full of men downstairs who wanted him dead.

  Those cowards and bullies left this kid up here to rot. Just give him a minute to get what he needs.

  The kid hurried into the bedroom and Finn waited just outside the door, but his curiosity led him to peek inside. He thought he heard the boy snivelling and wondered if he had gone inside to do his crying in private.

  “Hey kid,” Finn stepped into the bedroom. “I seriously don’t have time to hang around while you cry. I need to get out of—” Finn froze when he saw the dead woman lying on the floor at the foot of the bed. Her neck was twisted at an awful angle. Her face was beaten flat. Some beast had used her body as a sick canvas. “Christ! Who is she, kid?”

  The boy wiped his face with the back of his forearm and turned around to face Finn. He shrugged his shoulders like he didn’t care. “Just some bird Dominic was fucking. I don’t even know what her name was, or that she was dead.”

  Finn frowned. “Then why did you come in here?”

  The boy opened a nearby dresser, and from the middle drawer he plucked something out and held it in front of him—a pack of pills. “My headache still hasn’t gone away,” he explained. “It’s probably never going to now, but these should help a little.”

  Finn raised an eyebrow. Kid stepped over a corpse just to get some aspirin. That's cold.

  “Come on kid, let’s get going.”

  “Okay, coming. Thanks for letting me out of that room. I thought I was going to die in there.”

  That’s because you would have, Finn didn't say out loud. Now you get to live a few days longer until you die.

  “No problem, kid. What’s your name?”

  The kid smiled, betraying that two of his front teeth were broken. “My name’s Minty. Pleased to meet you, Mr Finn.”

  Finn just nodded and led the boy downstairs.

  Minty? Stupid name.

  4

  FLAMES

  The men in the bar grouped together when Finn reentered. The two suited thugs from outside had come inside, but the skinhead with the snapped elbow slumped in a chair and moaned deliriously. They all stared at Finn like a poisonous snake.

  “You’re a bleedin’ psychopath,” said the barman, his nose a bloody mess and leaking down his open-collared shirt. “You can’t bowl up and start sparking people out.”

  Finn had to laugh at the man’s hypocrisy. “Are you shitting me, fellas? You feckers are a bunch of thugs. Bad luck for you, I’m a bigger thug.”

  The barman didn’t snarl anymore, but he shook his bleeding head defiantly. “We’ll fucking kill you for this, mate. You’re a dead man.”

  “Is that right, now? Tell you what I think, mate. I think I’m going to find that gobshite Dominic and slice his throat. Then I might come back for you bunch of eejits—make sure none of yous had anything to do with what happened to my sister. What d’you think about that, mate? Come on, kid.”

  The men in the room parted as Finn cut through the room. The kid stayed close to him like a lamb with its mother.

  “Hey,” someone said. “You ain’t taking Minty anywhere. He’s with us.”

  Finn looked at the kid and saw desperation in his eyes. His name really is Minty? Seriously? “Now the kid's with me.”

  “He belongs to Dominic.” The ex-soldier stepped forward again, recharged and ready for round two. This time he carried a big nasty knife—a Ka-Bar.

  “Go on now, Minty.” Finn put a hand on the kid and moved him towards the exit, then stepped up to the man holding the knife. “Way I see things,” he said, “when you own something, you take care of it. I found this kid half-starving and trapped in a shit-stinking living room. I suppose you knew about that, did you?”

  The ex-soldier sneered and patted the flat of the blade in his hand. “He belongs to Dominic. Walk away now, you thick Mick, and I’ll forget about you knocking me out. I’ll let you walk out of—”

  Like a viper, Finn struck. He grabbed the knife with both hands before the other man even realised what was happening, and before he could make a sound, Finn twisted the blade and shoved it into his heart. He caught the soldier's sinking body and eased it to the ground. As the man’s heart seized and the last of his breath escaped his lips, Finn whispered into his ear. “You deserved better than this.”

  Finn took a moment, then wiped the Ka-Bar on the dead man’s trousers and stood up with it. The other men looked terrified, but he slid the blade into his belt loops and folded his arms. “Just what I’ll be needing to do your man, Dominic. Now, does anybody else want to do something stupid? I can always use more weapons.”

  The other men in the bar didn’t move a muscle. Their eyes bulged so much that it looked like they might fall out and roll across the carpet like snooker balls.

  Finn nodded and uncrossed his arms. “Good. Then Minty here will take a week’s worth of food from wherever you have it stashed. And no naff leftovers, he’s taking the best you got.”

  This time the barman did as told without so much as moving his mouth. He opened a cabinet and started piling crisps and bar snacks into a carrier bag. The whole time he kept his eyes on the dead ex-soldier in the centre of the room.

  The guy had been their biggest tough. Now he was dead.

  Finn had broken them.

  Minty stood on the bar rail and leaned over. Pointing, he said, “And that chewing gum. Throw that in.”

  The barman did what the kid told him. The chewing gum went into the bag.

  Finn was getting antsy. The men were defeated, but it only took one flash of confidence to have one of them try to stab him in the back. “Come on, kid, before I have to lamp somebody else.”

  Minty snatched the carrier bag and raced towards the door like he had just robbed a bank. Finn strolled after him. Had killing become so easy it didn’t even get his blood racing anymore? An unwelcome thought, but one, thankfully, that disappeared as soon as Finn entered the dusty atmosphere outside.

  Minty wasted no time tucking into the carrier bag he deposited onto the picnic bench, yanking open a bag of crisps and devouring them in handfuls. Food was too valuable to pass up, so Finn grabbed a bag of peanuts and shovelled them into his mouth. For a moment, they were silent as the two of them ate.

  “We can’t hang about long, kid,” said Finn between mouthfuls.

  Minty spoke with his mouth full. “I know. Those guys will kill me for this.”

  “Fuck ‘em. They’re not as tough as they think they are.”

  “I’m just a kid. They’ll…”

  Finn frowned. “They’ll what?”

  The kid shook his head, fighting back tears. “Nothing. Can I come with you?”

  “No.”

  “Then you should have left me in that room to die.”

 
; Finn studied the kid, tried to make out his expression. Something was going on that Finn didn’t understand, but clearly the kid was vulnerable. His clothes stank and it looked like he hadn’t eaten well in a month. If Finn left him, the kid would be at the mercy of the wolves.

  So what? Everybody's screwed. I don’t owe this kid anything.

  Marie would have helped him.

  Marie would never turn her back on a kid who needed help.

  “Goddamnit! Fine, you can tag along, but only until we're enough away from here for those guys to lose your scent. Then you’re on your own. Not my problem.”

  The kid finished his crisps and looked at Finn. “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” said Finn. “He murdered my sister.”

  “Marie was your sister?”

  Finn glared at the kid. “You knew her?”

  “I-I think so. She had an accent, like you, but it was almost unnoticeable. You only heard it when she joked about. She was nice.”

  “Do you know what happened to her?” Finn asked. He had to force himself not the grab the kid by the neck and scream in his face.

  Hold it together, Finn.

  “No. I’m sorry. If you think Dominic hurt her though, you're probably right. It's a bad idea going after him. He's a lot tougher than the guys in the bar.”

  Finn nodded. He didn’t have proof that Dominic murdered his sister, but circumstantial evidence piled up, and having someone who knew the man confirming that he was a monster gave Finn the vindication he needed.

  “I need to find this warehouse, Minty. Can you tell me anything about it?”

  “He said it was one of those places that flogs everything cheap for people to sell on.”

  Finn nodded. “A wholesaler?”

  “I think it was called Latif’s, or something. Sounded like an Indian word.”

  “Okay,” said Finn. “That’s a start, I guess. Let’s ask around and see if anybody knows it. Make yourself useful or you'll be gone.”

  Minty nodded, put his remaining food back inside the carrier bag and tied a knot in the handle. “Okay, I'm ready!”

  “What kind of name is Minty, anyway?”

  Minty tore into his carrier bag and pulled something out—the pack of chewing gum he'd demanded from the barman. With a smile he said, “My mum said I’d end up smelling like mint. It kind of became my nickname.”

  The way the kid's eyes lowered sadly suggested the woman he was so obviously fond of was no longer around. Finn had been about to ask for the kid’s actual name, but decided he liked ‘Minty’ just fine.

  5

  EMBERS

  One of the last memories Finn had of Marie before she left Belfast for London was her holding her dolly, which she called Moppy. Finn had just announced he would be staying behind. She had erupted into floods of tears. He told her he had brothers relying on him and he couldn’t abandon them.

  “But I’m your sister,” she had howled, “and we have picnics in the woods. I don’t want to go to London. Not without you.”

  Finn held back tears of his own and seeing his heartbroken ma’s own wavering emotions almost broke him. He knelt in front of Marie and wiped her tears with his thumb. “This is my home, Marie, and it needs me. Sometimes there are more important things than playing in the woods, okay?”

  She recoiled as though his words hurt her.

  But he continued. “London is a bad place, Marie, just like Belfast can be sometimes, but in London, you won’t have me to look after you. Be strong, lil sis, okay? No crying. And you be good for ma. You work hard at school, but let no one push you around. You be tough.”

  She tried to stop crying, but it only made her sob harder. “I’m not tough, Finn. I need you to protect me.”

  He shook his head and stood. “No, you don't. You'll be fine without me. You'll be tough.”

  It was more than three years until he saw his little sister again. By then, both of them had changed. Marie lost her big brother and Finn lost himself.

  I could have watched her grow up.

  Finn came back to reality. His baby sister’s tears echoed in his head and left splinters in his skull. She hadn’t been fine without him. She hadn’t been tough.

  She had needed Finn to protect her.

  I turned my back on her.

  Now he was wandering the wasteland in a country he had despised his entire life looking for the monster who had killed her. The last thirty years of his life had been a wasted journey. He could have spent his life by Marie’s side and it would all end the same. The tar would claim them all.

  “Hey, Finn.” Minty was pointing across the road in front of him. “Those guys over there know Dom. They used to get their gear from him.”

  Finn blinked and got himself back together. He peered across the road and saw two emaciated men sitting on the stone steps of an old bank. They were kicking a small, fuzzy-haired dog, keeping it trapped between them so it couldn't escape. The dog yelped with every angry boot.

  Sighing at the pointlessness of it all, Finn marched across the street and shoved the men. They were so light that both of them went sprawling against the stone steps. One of them cracked a hip and screamed in pain. The other lay sprawled and confused.

  Minty went to his knees beside the frightened dog, patting it as it trembled. He reached into his carrier bag and emptied a bag of pork scratchings onto the floor. The dog ate, cautious at first but then ravenous.

  Finn waited for the two druggies to get up off the steps. They stunk of foulness, and their faces were wet tissue-paper stretched over skullbone. “I’m looking for Dominic Cassell. I hear he went to a warehouse called Latif’s.”

  The injured guy rubbed at his hip and tutted. “Why’d you have to shove us, man?”

  “Because you were picking on a frightened little animal, so I thought I'd let you see how it feels. Would you like another reason?”

  “What d’you care? The world has ended.”

  “It hasn’t ended yet. Dominic, I want to find him. Speak!”

  The other druggie who hadn’t fallen quite so badly chewed his lip bloody. It cracked more as he answered. “Yeah, we know Dom. Used to hook us up 'til he tripled the price—twat. I know Latif’s too. It’s on the corner of West Highgate, near the dog’s home. The cop shop is nearby. I used to walk home from there after a night in the chokie.”

  Finn was surprised to get such useful info—and so freely. “Minty, give these guys something to eat.”

  Minty pulled a face. He was still petting the small dog which now wagged its tail. “After what they did?”

  “Rules of the street. These guys helped without me having to get physical. Give them something for their troubles.”

  “You got any gear?” said the guy with the bruised hip. His eyes suddenly lit up.

  “We have salt and vinegar crisps,” said Minty, tossing two packets at them. “Enjoy what you’ve been given.”

  Finn nodded. “I'd listen to the kid.”

  After that, the two men took the crisps gladly. To Minty they said, “Cheers, buddy. Sorry about the dog.”

  “And I’m sorry about the hip,” said Finn. “Try to be decent for whatever time you have left.”

  As they walked away, Minty started chuckling.

  “What is it?” asked Finn.

  “You’re like a crime fighter. You go round saving puppies and trapped children. Finn the Hero.”

  Finn rolled his eyes. “Don’t be away in the head. This isn’t a comic book. I’m not fighting crime, I’m getting answers. You don't want to see what happens when people don't give them.”

  Minty stopped laughing, but kept a slight smile on his face. “Just seems like all the answers are coming from the bad guys you rough up.”

  Finn was a bad guy beating up other bad guys. That didn’t make him a good guy. Good guys didn't abandon their families. Good guys didn’t kill people. Good guys didn't plant bombs.

  The little girl he pulled from the rubble of the pos
t office thought Finn was a good guy too. She’d never known the reason she needed rescuing in the first place was because of a rigged parcel Finn had left there.

  Finn was no hero.

  “I don’t know my way around the city, kid. Do you recognize the whereabouts that fella was talking about?”

  Minty nodded. “West Highgate. Yeah, I know it. It’s not far away. We can probably walk it in an hour.”

  “Let’s walk faster and make it in less.”

  “Okay,” said Minty. “Maybe the three of us can stop and find some more food along the way.”

  Finn looked at the boy and frowned. “What are you talking about, the three of us?”

  Minty nodded at the ground between them. Keeping pace in the centre of their group was the frightened little dog. “Looks like he’s coming along,” said Minty. “Every hero needs a dog. Let's call him... Wonder Mutt.”

  Finn rolled his eyes. “Just great. If he shits, kid, you’re cleaning it up.”

  6

  ASHES

  “Where's your family?” Finn asked as they headed out of the housing estate and towards the main roads.

  “Dead,” said Minty.

  Finn knew that would likely be the case, so what had made him even ask the question? Probably the silence of their walk. Quiet made him uncomfortable. It had been a long time since Finn had needed to make conversation with a stranger, and he struggled with it. Back home in Belfast, he had only ever associated with those he had known for years. In London, every face belonged to a desperate stranger.

  Finn cleared his throat. “You picked an awful time to be alive, kid.”

  Minty frowned. “I didn’t pick it, but I suppose I know what you mean. If I'd been born a hundred years ago, I would've lived a full life without ever knowing that the world would end soon. It sucks.”

  “Trust me, you’re not missing out on all that much. Life gets shit as soon as you’re out of puberty. Least you got the good years.”

  “The good years? I spent the last three years getting my ass kicked at school every day, and my mum was so poor that I was still playing games on an old Xbox while all the other kids were chilling out with their PlayStation 4s. My dad barely wanted to know me.”