Broken Toys

by Jackson Lear

  She climbed back up the stairs, checked on Ian, and saw his back was turned. He breathed in sharply, aware that someone had just entered his room. Claire closed the door to his bedroom and returned to her own.

  As she lay in bed she reconsidered the wisdom of keeping such a knife that close to her sleeping body. If someone did break in and creep into her bedroom …

  No, he has a hammer.

  She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, hoping that the early morning light would provide some comfort.

  She returned to the tunnel. The stilted figure of the creep who once pulled her skirt up to her shoulder blades now rested a hand on Ian’s shoulder. She tuned into every tremor in that tunnel. A rusty blade sliced through her … his … abdomen. The jagged edge of the blade tore at her but it wasn’t enough to kill her outright. She stumbled through the trees with that creature following, toying with her. She kept a hand against her stomach, holding her intestines in. As the strength left her she tumbled down the creek and landed in the dirty, polluted water. It was too exhausting to crawl to the other side.

  The creature closed his elongated fingers around her ankle and dragged her away, face down, over the twisted roots of trees and through the jagged terrain of the wilderness.

  All because Daniel fucking Whitmoore thought that having an unloaded gun made him invincible.

  The sun finally brightened the room. Claire yanked the curtains back as though their weight had quadrupled overnight. The sun glared off the neighbour’s windows, bouncing straight into her eyes. She winced and turned away, as though the start to the day was so spectacularly awful that she might as well stay in bed and call it quits.

  As her eyes adjusted to the light she expected to see her whole garden swarming with paparazzi, news cameras, and demonstrators holding up banners saying that Ian was going to burn in Hell for what he did to Zofia. Instead, there wasn’t a single soul on the grass. Maybe no one else knew about what he had done. Yet. Anthony knew. Josh probably did as well. Maybe even Amanda. It was too many people already. Maybe the Whitmoores had dragged the truth out of Daniel as well.

  Maybe Daniel was blaming everything on Ian, that Ian was the ring leader and the one who insisted on exploring the tunnel beyond the creek. The one who thought it was a good idea to rape a young woman.

  She snapped the curtains closed again.

  Half an hour later she shrieked.

  Claire had opened the front door and, for a moment, thought that a small creature had darted inside her house. She leapt out of the way as her insides clenched together until a small teddy bear came to a rest on the inside on her door frame. It stared up at her, its beady little eyes locking onto hers. She recognised it in an instant.

  “Narsan?” Claire mumbled. A tsunami of nostalgia rushed her senses, screaming that this had to be impossible, but there he was, the teddy bear she hadn’t seen in over twenty years. Instinct told her to pick it up as her better judgment was smothered from days of minimal sleep. The writing on the name tag had faded over the years but she could definitely make out the first four letters of his name. His left hind leg was tattered and ripped, the stuffing had turned grey but it was his old war wound all right. Narsan was back.

  Claire peered out into her garden, unsure of the significance of the bear’s return, and locked the door. “Ian?”

  He came forward, with his heart wedged in his throat. A shriek from his mum meant that James had caught her.

  “Did you see anyone in the garden today?

  “No.”

  “What about last night?”

  “No.”

  “Did anyone come to the door?”

  “No.”

  Claire stood looking into the lounge, holding her old teddy bear in both hands, trying to recall the last time she had seen Narsan, but after so many years she drew a blank. She closed the door, grabbed her phone, and called her brother.

  77

  Anthony

  “Holy fuck,” spluttered Anthony, from his driveway. He called Josh.

  “What’d you find?” Josh asked.

  “My old walkie-talkies.”

  “You had walkie-talkies?”

  “Yeah, grey ones, you remember? You, me, and Amanda had one each. One of them is here.”

  Josh started to put it all together. “So some little arsewipe was stealing our toys and they’re now returning them?”

  “He knows where I live.”

  “Me to,” said Josh.

  “I have children!” shouted Anthony.

  Yeah, and I have a dead cat by my front door, thought Josh.

  “I remember us using the walkie-talkies to try and find the third one,” said Anthony. “I remember you thinking that someone had taken it and was listening in on our conversations.”

  “It rings a bell,” said Josh, and he couldn’t take his eyes away from the news. Amanda came back in and stood at the front door.

  “How the fuck does he know where we live?” shouted Anthony.

  Josh winced and pulled the phone away from his ear. “Do you want to go to the police with this?”

  “What the hell are they going to do?” His phone blurred in his ear. “Hang on, Claire is calling me.”

  78

  Josh

  It was one in the morning. Josh had been pacing up and down Windemere Road for the last two hours. Just before calling it a night a familiar set of headlights pulled in on the street. Anthony got out of his car.

  Anthony stared at Josh in utter shock. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Making sure my friend doesn’t do anything stupid,” said Josh. “I figured you went home, wouldn’t be able to sleep, and then decided to come and check out the school anyway to see if James was, in fact, hiding near the time capsule, or near his old house. It’s that one, in case you wanted to know, and people live there now. People with three dogs. Big ones. They also like to bark, so I don’t think he’s gone back to hiding in his old bedroom.”

  Anthony glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. “So are you here to help me or stop me?”

  “You know how there are cameras now in the school? Yeah, they would be watching our every move, and there’s no way we could get away with getting away with whatever happens to James in full view of every camera. As soon as I got home Amanda called me to make sure you weren’t going to do anything stupid. So, I’m here to do something stupid to stop you.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m going to call the police, tell them I saw James. But think about it, if James has been there all week, he would have seen them installing cameras everywhere, and he would have left.”

  “Then he’s on the outskirts of the school.” Anthony pulled out a pair of binoculars from his bag and slung them over his neck.

  “What else have you got in there?”

  “First aid kit. In case a fight goes down. And heavy duty gardening gloves.”

  “Against a madman with a wrench. And possibly a gun. Although, to be fair ...” Josh tapped his stomach, and there was a noticeable padded sounded under his jacket.

  “What’s that?”

  “Karate padding. It’s not going to stop a knife, but it might dull a few punches if he gets them in.”

  Anthony headed along the road and caught sight of the school in the distance.

  “He hasn’t passed me since I arrived, in case you’re wondering,” said Josh.

  Anthony raised his binoculars and saw the new security measures in place. There was an electric gate with two cameras looking over it. The fence was now twice as high and difficult to climb over. The school had been turned into a prison.

  “Have you checked the cars for people sleeping in them?” Anthony asked.

  “Yep. And there’s a small park over there, with three barbecue pits, so maybe he’s been cooking himself up a storm while in hiding.”

  Anthony nodded for the sake of nodding, and he looked over his shoulder. “Where do you really think he is?”

  “He could be hiding
in the teacher’s lounge,” said Josh, as the rain started to pick up.

  Anthony rubbed his face as the sixteen hour day started to get the better of him. He could barely believe how quickly he got tired these days. Late nights used to end at three in the morning. Then one in the morning. He convinced himself that he was still a night owl, only one who was forced to get up early because life had day time plans for him, but still he always woke up feeling as though he needed another hour in bed.

  Josh pulled his hands away from the wet window into the teacher’s lounge. “It’s too dark to see anything.” He tapped the window to double check, and the noise shuddered through Anthony.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Josh stared back through the window. “Startling him into action.” A distant beam of light was able to illuminate the very edges of the furniture inside, but if there was someone sleeping on the sofa then Josh was never going to see him. He tried the door handle and rattled it in place.

  “We might have to check every room in here,” said Anthony.

  “We could always call the police,” grumbled Josh. “Of course, they’ve likely checked this place. And if a nosey neighbour happens to see someone walking around the school grounds at night they’ll call the police on our behalf.”

  “Good,” said Anthony.

  Josh slowly turned to his friend and he read the lines in his face. Anthony looked a little more gaunt and weary tonight, as though he hadn’t slept in days. “You do realise that I was referring to us.”

  Anthony shook his head in confusion. “Huh?”

  “If a neighbour sees someone walking through the school grounds they’ll call the police. Right now the people who are walking through the school grounds are us, and we’re going to have a hell of a time explaining this to whoever catches us. Not that they’ll see us in the rain.”

  Josh dropped down to one knee. Anthony did the same.

  Someone ahead of them was taking a leak against a tree.

  They locked their eyes onto James, and recognised him from his disability photo they had plastered all over the newspaper and television.

  “Are you sure about this?” Josh asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  Josh crept forward.

  James jostled up and down, shaking out the last drop.

  Anthony followed.

  James finished up, turned swiftly at the shadows moving through the dark.

  Josh made his move. He lunged forward and threw his weight into a charge, collecting James in a tackle. As they landed, Josh fell on top of James’ raised knee, catching him in the solarplexes and knocking the life out of him.

  James snapped his free hand down and began beating Josh on the top of the head. His other hand – trapped under Josh’s body – wrestled for his wrench.

  Anthony ran in with his binoculars raised to the side, swung them at James’ face – and missed. With a quick stomp he slammed his heel onto James’ forehead. James cried out, allowing Josh to roll away.

  James keeled over just as Josh struck again, sending Josh’s fist smacking into the ground. A couple of his knuckles ricocheted back upwards, spiking his whole arm in agony.

  As James pushed himself up Anthony knocked him back down. They slipped into the mud and Josh ran over, heel stomped James in the back, and slammed his fist down on the back of James’ head. James and Anthony wrestled into a stalemate, Josh was the only one landing blows, half of them missing, the half connecting without any power.

  James soon found Anthony’s throat. Josh swung his foot into James’ groin as hard as he could. James loosened his grip and Josh jumped onto James’ back, gripped both of his hands onto James’ hair, and repeatedly slammed James’ face into the ground. After the fifth or sixth strike, James started to go limp. Josh pressed down, forcing James deep into mud, and he felt James splutter, gasp, and resist against the liquid covering his face.

  “Help!” Josh cried, as James struggled in his death throws.

  Anthony jumped in and pushed James’ face down even further. They had to avoid his thrashing arms and legs, and several times James was able to lift his head just high enough to get one last gasp of air in.

  It was far from quick, but with every struggle James tired out, and he was no longer able to fight against two grown men holding him down into the mud. Anthony recoiled at the last moment as he realised what was about to happen, what was about to irrevocably change his life, and he was sure he murmured something, but the details of which escaped him forever.

  James stopped fighting, but Josh held him down for another full minute just to make sure. Then, taking no chances, Josh leaped out of the way and waited for James to roll over and gasp for air. Josh even wanted it to happen, knowing that James had been beaten, but James simply laid face down in the mud.

  There was a panic that started to creep over them as they realised they had just killed a man. A monster of a man, certainly, but they had just drowned someone to their death.

  79

  Anthony

  Josh massaged his right hand with his left. “I think I need a doctor.”

  Anthony stared at James’ body lying face down in the puddle. A cold snap from the wind ran across his shoulder blades, causing him to shiver.

  “Are you okay?”

  Anthony ran both hands through his hair and held it tightly until the pinch of a hundred strands got the better of him. The quick drop of both hands was enough to convince him that standing still would be a useless approach in getting him through his mess. He shot a quick look to Josh, half for reassurance that they were definitely in this together, and half to judge the bloodlust in his friend’s eye.

  “Are you okay?” Josh repeated.

  Anthony rolled a glare at Josh.

  Josh nodded in return. “Yeah. Me too.” Josh paced back and forth with his unfocussed eyes cast towards the ground. After a few steps he paused, checked the soles of his shoes, and found a new problem. “Our footprints are all over here, so we can’t leave him here to be found.”

  Anthony padded the side of his face, checking to see if any of his teeth had been dislodged from James’ punch. “Alright, he can’t be found. Simple. We just have to be better than whoever hid Catherine, because this arsehole can never, ever be found.”

  Josh drew in a deep breath. His heart reverberated like a jack hammer. He barely heard Anthony the first time as a flurry of holy fuck’s ran rampant through his mind.

  “You’ve been all over town trying to find the best place to hide a body, so let’s hear it.”

  Josh eyed up the middle aged man lying face down in a puddle. He had carried Hannah upstairs a couple of times, he’d even supported her up against a wall, but moving a body in the dead of night required a lot more endurance than that. And luck. All it would take is for one night owl to look outside their window right now and it would all be over. “Do you want him hidden or gone?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “If you want him gone, we need to change our shoes and cover our footprints, drag him down to the train tracks, and dump him there for the first train of the day to deal with. We would have to prop him up or else he might get lucky and the train will just go over him. If that happened the police would find him and figure out where we came from. If we want him hidden, we drop him into the tunnel where they found Zofia, lock it up after we’re done, and leave him there to decompose.”

  Anthony held himself as still as possible as he tried to come up with some kind of plan.

  “I vote for the train,” said Josh.

  “What if we leave him to be found? We could always throw him over someone’s wall.”

  Josh pulled a face at Anthony as though his friend had completely lost his mind. “God knows what kind of evidence of us there is on him.”

  “Can we dump him in his back garden?”

  “Someone will be there eventually to clean the place up so they can sell it. We either incinerate him, which isn’t as easy as you think, we weigh him dow
n and drop him into a lake, but we’re miles away from anything deep enough, we bury him, but we know how long it took to dig up Catherine and hiding a fresh shallow grave is going to cause more headaches than digging it in the first place, or we allow a train driver to have the worst day of his life.”

  Anthony looked around the site as an uncontrolled nodding started to take hold. “Does the train come when it’s dark?”

  “I think so.”

  “So the driver might not actually see or feel him.”

  “It’s possible.”

  Anthony’s hope was silenced as an all consuming ‘thud’ of James McIntyre being hit by a train going sixty miles an hour rattled through his brain. “There’s no way the driver will not know what just happened, especially if there are lights on the train.”

  “Yeah, but he won’t be able to stop in time,” said Josh.

  With a quick breath and a definite for fuck’s sake, Anthony had his answer. “Alright. Let’s dump him on the train tracks.”

  It wasn’t nearly as easy to move James as they thought it would be. He weighed a hundred and seventy pounds. Anthony knew that one man lifting more than fifty pounds was a workplace health and safety hazard. Still, he and Josh had few other options. They tried dragging the body away, but that would inspire curiosity from any neighbour who happened to look out their window that night. They also considered dumping James in the back of Josh’s car, but that would leave a trace of blood that the police could find later on. The train tracks were three miles away, and it was going to take every stroke of luck to make it there without being seen.

  “I know how we do it,” Anthony said, though he wasn’t the least bit pleased to suggest it. “I have a mountain bike at home with a small trailer that hooks up to the back. I got it so we could take Ernie out for a bike ride. It’s been sitting in the garage for years.”