by Mark Tilbury
Ben rolled Alice on top of Max. The dog emitted an awful belch of gas as Alice’s dead weight expelled air from its corpse. Both of Alice’s eyes were now open, staring up at the ceiling as if seeking salvation. The skin around her neck hung in loose folds. Her cold, clammy hands rested on the filthy concrete floor. Her left index finger pointed at the skeletons. A faint smile played upon her lips, as if she had some secret knowledge only obtainable through death.
‘Look what that swine Marcus did to her,’ Ebb said. ‘The Lord will toast his head on a pitchfork for this.’
Ben tried to shut Ebb’s words out of his head. They buzzed around his brain like a swarm of angry bees seeking a hive. He dragged Bubba over to the ‘good pile’. Bubba helped Ben by taking some of the weight as he hauled him on top of Alice and the dog.
‘Well done, Benjamin. Jesus has asked me to spare you from the flames. You will be shot before the bunnies burn.’
‘You’re going to kill us all? Just like that?’ Emily shouted.
‘I’d be careful about pointing the finger of blame in my direction. It’s you that’s got everyone into this mess by fornicating with Brother Marcus in the first place. If you’d kept your knickers on, Tweezer would be pinned to a cross by now and The Sons and Daughters of Salvation would be breaking bread around the dinner table.’
‘Marcus loved me.’
Ebb scoffed. ‘You wouldn’t know what love was if it leapt up and bit you on the backside.’
‘We loved each other.’
‘Very touching. Perhaps you can remind yourself of this misguided delusion whilst you burn with the rest of the bunnies.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Maddie asked. ‘What have we done to you?’
‘Done to me? Oh, heavens, Madeline, nothing. It’s the Lord Jesus Christ that you’ve insulted and betrayed.’
‘You murdered Marcus,’ Emily shouted.
‘And Brother Marcus murdered my faithful dog, Maxine. He also murdered Brother Tweezer in cold blood, so stick that on your abacus and add it to the sum total of his miserable existence. Anyway, I’ve had enough of this nonsense. There’s an apple pie in the oven and petrol evaporating on the stairs. Arrange Brother Tweezer, Brother Marcus and Sister Dixie as requested, Pixie-pea.’
Ben could see the faintest rise and fall of Bubba’s chest. He was amazed that Ebb couldn’t see it. He arranged the other three bodies in their hideous union beside Bubba, Alice and Maxine.
‘You may or may not want to join me in prayer,’ Ebb said. ‘I accept that The Sons and Daughters of Salvation is now defunct, so the choice is yours and yours alone.’
‘I’ll pray that you go to Hell,’ Maddie promised.
Ebb ignored her. He bowed his head. ‘Dear Father, I ask that you find it in your heart to forgive these wretched misguided souls.’
Ben stared at Bubba. Apart from the obvious fact that the big man was still alive, there was something else that offered a possible lifeline. But what?
Ebb droned on. ‘I have done all you have asked of me, Lord. My time is finished here. I trust you will find it in your heart to offer salvation to those who have earned it and forgiveness for those who seek it.’
I might only have one eye, but I can see that dog clear enough, Old Joe piped up in Ben’s head.
‘Bless this house, Lord, and bless all the bunnies that burn in her. Amen.’
Ben took a step forward. The dog. The bloody dog! Ebb cared about that dog more than anything else in the world.
Ebb thrust the gun at him. ‘Stand still, Pixie-pea.’
Ben pointed at the bodies.
‘What?’
Ben took another step forward. ‘M-Maxine.’
Ebb glanced at the dog. ‘Maxine? What about her?’
Ben whined in the back of his throat. He threw his voice so it sounded as if the noise was coming from beneath Bubba and Alice.
Ebb took a few steps towards the bodies. ‘Maxine?’
Ben whined again. A long pitiful sound in the back of his throat.
Ebb waved the gun at Ben. ‘You get over there with the other bunnies, Pixie-pea. You so much as move or twitch and I’ll blow your head clean off your shoulders.’
Ben did as he was told. He waited for Ebb to get right up close to the bodies before he whined again.
‘Maxine? Is that you, girl?’
Ben hiccupped a tiny bark and threw it right out there in front of Ebb. Old Joe would have been proud.
Ebb lowered the gun and reached down to grab hold of the dog’s tail.
Bubba struck with the speed and accuracy of a rattle snake. He twisted around and grabbed the shotgun halfway along the barrel. He yanked it hard enough to tip Ebb off balance. Ebb pulled the trigger as he fell forwards, blasting a hole in the concrete floor. Bubba let go of the gun as Ebb hit the deck. The gun landed a few feet away from them.
Go on, Stutter-buck, j-j-j-jump!
Ben jumped. He rushed forwards and threw himself onto Ebb’s back. Ebb twisted his head from side to side and howled like a wolf beneath a full moon.
What you gonna do now, Stutter-buck? Piggyback him to death?
Ebb thrashed and bucked. ‘My dog.’
Ben wrapped his arm around Ebb’s throat and squeezed with every ounce of strength left in his body. Ebb made an awful hissing noise. Ben squeezed harder. He could hear one of the women screaming in the background.
Something crawled on Ben’s face. For one wild moment, he thought it was a giant spider. And then he realised it was Ebb’s hand. Too late. Ebb pushed his index finger into Ben’s right eye. White hot pain erupted in Ben’s eye socket. He screamed and relaxed his grip on Ebb’s throat.
Ebb threw Ben off his back and crawled towards the shotgun. ‘Maxine?’
Maxine didn’t respond.
‘All of you foul festering bunnies will burn in Hell for this.’
Ben tried to force himself to act, but the searing pain in his eye rendered him useless.
A low guttural growl. Ben thought the dog had actually come back to life. And then Ebb’s rasping voice: ‘Put the gun down, Bubba. Put the gun down, right now!’
Bubba stood over Ebb, the shotgun aimed at his tormentor’s head.
‘Just you remember that the Lord Jesus Christ is watching you.’
Bubba growled and thrust the gun at Ebb.
‘If you do as I say, you can come with me, Bubba. I’ll spare you from the flames.’
Bubba shook his head.
Ebb kneeled in front of Bubba with his hands clasped before him. ‘It’s your only chance of salvation.’
Bubba pumped the gun and expelled a spent cartridge.
‘Think about it, Bubba. We’ve been together for a long time. We’re practically brothers. You can come to Thailand with me and start a new life. We’ll buy a proper working farm. I’ll even let you have full control of the land. How does that sound?’
Bubba shook his head and spat on the ground. The action spoke louder than any words could.
Ben turned to Maddie and Emily. ‘We need to call the cops.’
‘That bastard’s got a phone up in his living quarters,’ Emily said, ‘along with all his other luxuries.’
‘Call an ambulance, Maddie,’ Ben said. ‘Tell them they’ll need to send more than one, though, because there are five dead bodies as well as all the injured people. And then call the cops.’
Ebb pointed at Ben. ‘I’m not having those agents of the Devil—’
‘It doesn’t matter what you think anymore,’ Ben said. ‘You’re finished.’
‘So you can speak after all, Stutter-bunny. It’s amazing what you can do when you put your tongue to it.’
Ben ignored him. ‘Go, Maddie. Now!’
Maddie walked to the door. She turned back to face Ben. ‘Please be careful.’
Ben nodded. It was as much as he could do to stop himself crashing to the floor and succumbing to his injuries.
Ebb looked up at Bubba. ‘You can have whatever you want, Bubba. Women.
Slaves. Wealth beyond your wildest dreams.’
Bubba spat on the ground again.
Ebb reached out and made a grab for Bubba’s ankle.
The gun roared as Maddie walked into the Cannabis Room. She didn’t see Ebb’s head explode in a kaleidoscope of blood and bone and brain matter. She didn’t see him fall forwards and land with his right hand almost touching Max’s tail. And for that, Ben thanked Pastor Tom’s God from the bottom of his heart.
Chapter forty
Ben stood beside his father’s hospital bed and fiddled with Dominic’s locket. The police had returned it to him after they’d finished sorting through all the evidence from Penghilly’s Farm. He’d promised his mother he would wear it for the rest of his life. And he would. With pride.
It was weird viewing the world through one eye. The patch covering his injured eye meant he had to twist his head sideways to see anything on his right-hand side. At least the eye was all right. It had swelled up pretty bad, and it looked like a plum, but Ebb hadn’t inflicted any permanent damage.
Geoff Whittle was asleep. Ben thought sleep was the best place for him. The more he rested, the better chance he had of making a decent recovery. There were tubes all over his body. One even disappeared up his nose. Two were taped to his hand, one of which was hooked up to a bag of saline hanging from a portable trolley. His beard was in need of a damn good trim. It was a wonder that his mother hadn’t turned up before now armed with scissors and good intentions. Most of his facial wounds looked a lot better now they’d been attended to, but one of his eyes was quite swollen and his bottom lip was still about twice its natural size. He looked as though he was pouting, which tickled Ben almost to the point of laughter.
The consensus among hospital staff was that his father was lucky to be alive. Geoff didn’t seem to agree. He considered himself bloody well unlucky to have been captured by Edward Ebb in the first place.
Maddie added another bunch of grapes to the overflowing fruit bowl. ‘Do you think I should get rid of some of this stuff? Those bananas look rank.’
Ben nodded. ‘Wouldn’t be a bad idea.’
‘He told me he doesn’t even like fruit.’
‘Try telling that to Mum. She thinks that fruit and fruit alone is what’s going to get him up on his feet. Never mind the fact that he’s got a cracked vertebra.’
Maddie dropped a rotten banana into the empty bag. ‘She means well.’
‘Maybe the doctors could replace his broken bones with bananas.’
Maddie smiled. ‘He’d be a bit wobbly.’
Ben sobered. ‘I don’t reckon he’ll walk again.’
‘You don’t know that, Ben.’
‘He’s broken his spine, Maddie. Not to mention what Ebb did to him. I’m just trying to be realistic.’
‘One day at a time.’
‘Do you remember that doctor who told him to take “one step at a time”?’
‘I honestly thought your dad was going to get up out of the bed and hit him.’
‘He certainly had a good go.’
Because of the heat, Geoff was covered with a thin white cotton sheet. His broken leg was encased in a cast and hoisted up in the air at a forty-five degree angle. His shattered shoulder was bandaged and his arm was set in a sling. He’d lost a lot of weight, mostly down to his refusal to eat anything other than mashed potato and an occasional banana. The nutrients dripping into his veins did little to replace home-cooked meals, even ones of the culinary calibre of Anne Whittle. At the moment, Geoff was surviving mainly on a diet of retribution and threats.
He opened one eye and peered at his son. ‘What time is it?’
Ben jumped. His father always seemed to catch him off guard. Ben looked at his watch. ‘Nearly midday.’
Geoff coughed and hacked something into his mouth which he swallowed with a grimace. ‘Give me some water. I’m parched.’
Maddie picked up a glass of water and a straw from the nightstand and held the straw to Geoff’s lips. He took a mouthful and then spat out the straw. ‘It’s bloody warm.’
‘Shall I get you some fresh?’ Maddie offered.
Geoff reached down and pressed a red button. ‘No. Let them do it. I pay enough taxes.’
Ben wished his father would keep his thoughts to himself.
‘Sit down, boy. You look like you need the toilet jigging about like that.’ And then to Maddie. ‘You, too, love. Take a pew.’
Ben and Maddie sat down. A nurse brought Geoff a fresh glass of water, complete with a new straw. She treated him to a smile and held the straw to his lips. Geoff didn’t return the smile. He finished his drink and waved the nurse away without so much as a thank you. Ben wanted to go after her and apologise for his father’s lack of manners.
‘How’s mother?’ Geoff asked.
Flapping, fretting and worrying, Ben thought. ‘She’s all right. She’s gone to Aunt Mary’s for lunch.’
‘Lunch? She’ll be lucky to get a slice of cucumber on a Ryvita with that one.’
Ben smiled. Aunt Mary was going through what his mother called a “skinny phase”. Ever since Ben could remember, Aunt Mary had been going through a “skinny phase” or a “fat phase”. Ben didn’t care. He liked Aunt Mary, fat or thin.
‘Is mother coming in to see me today?’
Ben nodded. ‘Tonight.’
‘Tell her no more fruit. I’ll turn into a bloody gibbon if I eat another banana.’
Ben smiled. It was pointless telling his mother anything once her mind was set. And right now her mind was set on trying to make her husband better with as much fruit as she could force down his throat.
Geoff looked up at his son. ‘I want to go home. I’ll never get better in here. I can’t even get a decent night’s sleep with that old bugger over there snoring like a train.’
Ben didn’t want to think about the logistics of accommodating his father at home. Where would they put him? He wasn’t in any fit state to get up the stairs to his bedroom. The thought of trying to wash him or take him to the toilet filled Ben with a dread matched only by memories of Penghilly’s Farm. No, he was better off where he was until they could adapt the house. In the long run, they would probably need to have an extension built so his father could have a downstairs bedroom and en-suite shower.
Geoff turned to Maddie. ‘How’s Bubba?’
Maddie smiled. ‘Bubba’s fine. He loves the spare room. I suppose after Penghilly’s Farm it seems like a luxury hotel. Dad’s going to give him a job when he’s well enough to work.’
‘At the church?’
‘Yeah. Dad’s teaching him sign language at the moment.’
Ben remembered the countless hours Pastor Tom had spent teaching him how to use Old Joe to overcome his stammer. He was sure Bubba and Pastor Tom would get on very well together.
‘And what about you? How are you coping?’
‘I’m okay, Mr Whittle.’
‘You saved my life. I won’t ever forget that.’
‘I didn’t do—’
Geoff waved a hand dismissively. ‘What you and Ben did was brilliant.’
Ben almost recoiled from the praise. ‘We only did what we had to.’
‘I hope that bloody girl’s grateful.’
Ben felt like he was on more familiar territory. ‘Emily?’
‘I could think of a better name for her.’
‘We went to see her last night, but she’s gone to stay with her Gran. Just while she gets on her feet.’
‘She looked quite capable of standing last time I saw her.’
Maddie helped herself to a grape. ‘She lost the baby.’
‘What baby?’
‘She was pregnant.’
‘Who got her pregnant? Not that ranting lunatic, Ebb?’
‘One of the cult members,’ Ben said. ‘Marcus. He died.’
‘Stupid girl. Whatever was she thinking of?’
Ben didn’t want to be drawn on the rights and wrongs of Emily Hunt’s behaviour. ‘Emily’s dad
says if we need anything, just let him know.’
‘Has he coughed up yet?’
Ben nodded. ‘In full. And he’s given us a five grand bonus.’
‘That should go a long way to curing me.’
Ben understood his father’s frustration. ‘We just need to take it one day at a time. Like we did in that basement.’
‘Cellar,’ Geoff corrected. ‘We’re in England, not America.’ And then to Maddie, ‘Could you give us a moment, love?’
‘Sure. I’ll go and get a coffee.’
When she was gone, Geoff looked at Ben and smiled. The smile was shaky around the edges. ‘You did well, son. I’m proud of you.’
Ben looked at the floor. ‘I just did what I had to do.’
‘No, you didn’t. You could’ve just sat on your hands and called the cops.’
‘But—’
Geoff raised his good hand. ‘But nothing. You put yourself on the line for me, and that makes you a man in my book.’
Ben struggled with the praise. ‘Thanks.’
‘And I’ll tell you this for nowt: if you had called the cops, and they’d shown up at the farm, Ebb would have killed us all. He thought I was a cop.’
‘He got that half right; you used to be.’
‘And then he thought I was Satan. And then a cop again. And then an agent of the Devil.’
‘He was crazy.’
‘He used to come down to that cellar every day trying to get me to confess to being something or other. One day he’d act all nice, bringing me soup and water and a bandage for my arm, the next he’d threaten me with a shovel and pour acid on me.’
Ben wanted to tell his father what Ebb had done to him on the cross, but it seemed irrelevant at the moment. ‘It must have been hell for you.’
‘And he used to talk to those bloody skeletons. And I don’t just mean “hello”, I mean full blown conversations. Particularly that one in the hideous pink wig.’
‘That was his mother.’
‘Jesus Christ.’
‘Apparently, he beat her to death with a shovel.’
‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’ And then after a few moments silence: ‘Whatever gave you the idea to mimic the dog?’
