by Paul Kane
Angela reached into her pocket, pulled out a handful of something that glistened in the light. Sparkled like-
"I stumbled upon them, quite literally. Down in the place where Robert left me. Where I hid out, until it was time to even the score. Remember the one that was sold for about 50 million a little while ago, some billionaire gave it… gave it to his daughter." She paused, composed herself and continued. "Each one of these is worth a lot more than that, and I found shit-loads of them. You know, I think I quite like having all that money - with more to come. Buys you anonymity. Gives you-"
"Power," Ruth finished for her, then bit her lip.
"Of course, when people find out what you've done - all the things you've done, it won't just be half the profits I'll get back. Will it?" Angela smirked again.
"Look," said Ruth, taking another step. "Let's talk about this. Here, have your drink." She proffered the juice.
"Oh, I'm really not that thirsty. Tell you what, why don't you have it?"
Ruth still held it out. "I don't really like… You drink it."
"No," Angela said, reaching into her other pocket and producing the gun. "You drink it. I insist."
It was Robert's gun, she recognised it. "What have you done to him?"
"Me? I haven't done anything. Drink."
"No, I-"
"Drink it Ruth, or I'll put a bullet in your head. And you know what
else? I'll get away with it, as well." It wasn't a bluff. Ruth reluctantly took a sip of the apple juice. "All of it!" Angela insisted, prodding the air in front of her with the weapon.
Ruth knocked back the drink.
"You know, being the boss and everything entitles you to all kinds of perks," Angela said. "Things like access to departments, the outside world - the one you were so careful to shield me from - don't even know exist. Like the R & D floors at the top of a certain office block? Ring any bells? Oh, you probably can't nod or shake your head by now, can you? Just like dad couldn't… just like those other poor bastards you poisoned with the shit they came up with. Batch 20865." There were tears in Angela's eyes now, and a couple escaped, tracked down her cheeks. She came over, placing the gun down on a nearby table, reaching for Ruth's wrist. "No pulse. But you can still hear me, right? You're still in there?"
She was. Just held captive by the drops of liquid she'd tipped in from one of her rings; something Ruth always kept about her in case of emergencies.
"A living death, isn't that how they described it in the encrypted files? Undetectable… Those people, my father - they were still fucking alive when the autopsies were carried out, weren't they? Maybe even when they were buried…" Angela was crying freely now, eyes red. Red on white. "But I know something that's even worse than that, Ruth. I want you to come with me." It was Angela's turn to show Ruth her back, taking a few steps then pausing, glancing over her shoulder. "Ah, that's right. You can't, can you?"
You monstrous little harpy, thought Ruth to herself - when I get out of this I'm going to…
Angela pushed her over and she fell, onto her back - hard. It hurt; it really hurt. Ruth hadn't expected it to; thought that her victims hadn't felt anything afterwards. But now she knew different. Now she knew they must have felt it when-
Ow! Ruth was being pulled along by her hair, dragged out through the patio doors.
"I'm going to introduce you now to some friends of mine, Ruth. It's a little bright in there for them, but perfect out here."
What the hell was the awful brat talking about now? What friends?
"Actually, they kind of think I'm their Queen… or a Goddess, or something. Either way, works for me. I found them where Robert left me as well."
Then Ruth saw what Angela was talking about, emerging from the shadows. Weird, alabaster things crawling over the snow, almost camouflaged by it, leaving a trail of redness behind them. A trail from…
"They're probably not that hungry at the moment, given that they've just had a big meal." Angela continued to drag Ruth into position on the lawn, through the snow - then stopped and nodded towards the remains of Robert. She could only tell because of his suit; it looked like wild animals had been at him, had been eating him. These bastard creatures, and it was her turn next! "They'll probably take their time with you, I guess. Make it last. I hope so anyway."
If she could have done, Ruth would have also cried at that point. For Robert, for herself. But more than any of that, because she'd been outsmarted. Because this wretched girl would now have everything. The company, the money.
Because, in the end, she had all the power.
*
Red on white.
Angela sat and watched as the last of Ruth was devoured; the blood smearing their pale mouths. She'd grown used to it now, their habits - it no longer repulsed her that they were sucking out eyeballs, tearing into thighs, chewing on breasts. And hadn't it been Eugene Sue who'd first said in Memoirs of Matilda that revenge is a dish best served cold?
It was only their nature - they were only doing what they had to in order to survive.
Like she herself had survived. Thrived, even.
And it comforted her that Ruth had been alive right up to the last, in that living death… a living statue, actually. Just like the one on her phone - the phone she'd finally used when she'd emerged from her hole and gone in search of a signal. They hadn't minded her taking the gems from the mine, selling them on and then using the proceeds to fund her little project. They didn't even know the fortune they were sitting on, or surrounded by - imbedded in the walls - and what's more, they didn't care. All those seven creatures, each with their own odd foibles - distinct personalities if you knew what you were looking for; one that slept a lot, one that sounded for all the world like he had allergies - all that interested them was their next meal, and to be able to please her. Her beauty captivating the things, and she hadn't minded that kind of attention.
She'd make a place for them, here in her own home: in the cellar maybe? Somewhere underground… The home that had belonged to her father, and now to her. The remains of Ruth and Robert, she'd put where nobody would ever find them. Where they'd put Angela.
Red on white. So much blood to clear up, although the snow would help with that when it began to eventually melt. It had been a long day, a long few weeks in fact - and while she'd been occupied with all this, it had turned midnight. It was now her birthday… and what a way to celebrate! She lay back on the snow and looked up. The globe had been shaken again, the world upside down - the stars up there mingling with the flakes that were now coming down, making it look like they were falling from the sky. A gift from Heaven.
But everything would soon settle again, and she would get on her with her life. Here, shut away. Who needed the outside world anyway? The hurt, the truths and heartache it brought?
Not her, that was for sure.
Not Snow.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Paul Kane is an award-winning writer and editor based in Derbyshire, UK. His short story collections include Alone (In the Dark), Touching the Flame, FunnyBones, Peripheral Visions, Shadow Writer, The Adventures of Dalton Quayle, The Butterfly Man and Other Stories, The Spaces Between, GHOSTS and MONSTERS. His novellas include Signs of Life, The Lazarus Condition, RED and Pain Cages. He is the author of such novels as Of Darkness and Light, The Gemini Factor and the bestselling Arrowhead trilogy (Arrowhead, Broken Arrow and Arrowland, gathered together in the sell-out omnibus edition Hooded Man), a post-apocalyptic reworking of the Robin Hood mythology. His latest novels are Lunar (which is set to be turned into a feature film), Sleeper(s) (a modern, horror version of Sleeping Beauty), the short Y.A. novel The Rainbow Man (as P.B. Kane) and Blood RED.
He has also written for comics, most notably for the Dead Roots zombie anthology alongside writers such as James Moran (Torchwood, Cockneys vs. Zombies) and Jason Arnopp (Dr Who, Friday The 13th) and as part of the team turning Clive Barker's Books of Blood into motion comics for Seraphim/MadeFire. Paul is co-editor of the ant
hology Hellbound Hearts (Simon & Schuster) - stories based around the mythology that spawned Hellraiser - The Mammoth Book of Body Horror (Constable & Robinson/Running Press), featuring the likes of Stephen King and James Herbert, A Carnivàle of Horror (PS) featuring Ray Bradbury and Joe Hill, and Beyond Rue Morgue from Titan, stories based around Poe's detective, Dupin.
His non-fiction books are The Hellraiser Films and Their Legacy, Voices in the Dark and Shadow Writer - The Non-Fiction. Vol. 1: Reviews and Vol. 2: Articles and Essays, plus his genre journalism has appeared in the likes of SFX, Fangoria, Dreamwatch, Gorezone, Rue Morgue and DeathRay. He has been a Guest at Alt.Fiction five times, was a Guest at the first SFX Weekender, at Thought Bubble in 2011, Derbyshire Literary Festival and Off the Shelf in 2012, Monster Mash and Event Horizon in 2013, Edge-Lit in 2014, plus HorrorCon, Liverpool HorrorFest and Grimm Up North in 2015, as well as being a panellist at FantasyCon and the World Fantasy Convention.
His work has been optioned for film and television, and his zombie story "Dead Time" was turned into an episode of the Lionsgate/NBC TV series Fear Itself, adapted by Steve Niles (30 Days of Night) and directed by Darren Lynn Bousman (SAW II-IV). He also scripted The Opportunity, which premiered at the Cannes Film Festival, Wind Chimes (directed by Brad "7th Dimension" Watson and which sold to TV) and The Weeping Woman - filmed by award-winning director Mark Steensland and starring Tony-nominated actor Stephen Geoffreys (Fright Night). You can find out more at his website www.shadowwriter.co.uk which has featured Guest Writers such as Dean Koontz, Robert Kirkman, Charlaine Harris and Guillermo del Toro.
Other Books by Paul Kane:
Novels
Arrowhead
Broken Arrow
Arrowland
Hooded Man (Omnibus)
The Gemini Factor
Of Darkness and Light
Lunar
Sleeper(s)
The Rainbow Man (as P.B. Kane)
Blood RED
Forthcoming: Sherlock Holmes & The Servants of Hell
Novellas
Signs of Life
The Lazarus Condition
Dalton Quayle Rides Out
RED
Pain Cages
Creakers (chapbook)
Flaming Arrow
The Bric-a-Brac Man
Forthcoming: The Rot
Collections
Alone (In the Dark)
Touching the Flame
FunnyBones
Peripheral Visions
The Adventures of Dalton Quayle
Shadow Writer
The Butterfly Man and Other Stories
The Spaces Between
Ghosts
Monsters
Forthcoming: Nailbiters
Editor & Co-Editor
Shadow Writers Vol. 1 & 2
Terror Tales #1-4
Top International Horror
Albions Alptraume: Zombies
The British Fantasy Society: A Celebration
Hellbound Hearts
The Mammoth Book of Body Horror
A Carnivàle of Horror: Dark Tales from the Fairground
Beyond Rue Morgue
Forthcoming: Dark Mirages
Non-Fiction
Contemporary North American Film Directors: A Wallflower Critical Guide (Major Contributor)
Cinema Macabre (Contributor)
The Hellraiser Films And Their Legacy
Voices in the Dark
Shadow Writer - The Non-Fiction. Vol. 1: Reviews
Shadow Writer - The Non-Fiction. Vol. 2: Articles & Essays
ALSO BY STORMBLADE PRODUCTIONS
Something stirs beneath the ice-locked tundra of Snowdonia National Park. An ancient force of unspeakable evil scrabbles at the boundaries between worlds. Its servants creep from sunless caverns and crave the taste of warm human flesh. Ithaqua summons his children home. A new age approaches. Gibbering monsters and nameless horrors await and a blend of man and beast is needed to show the Great Old Ones the way. Dwellers in the deep. Fields of quivering flesh. All await the children of the Wind Walker . . .
StormbladeProductions.com
Table of Contents
Praise for Paul Kane
Introduction
Snow by Paul Kane
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Other Books by Paul Kane:
ALSO BY STORMBLADE PRODUCTIONS
