by L A Taylor
He spat at the body after finally composing himself, and with a scared expression lingering on his face, made his way back to his truck. Once there began to search for material to tie around his wound. There was nothing resembling this so Frank used his trouser belt. Once tightened he sat back in his seat and started the engine.
The truck moved along the country lane but Frank found it more and more difficult to concentrate. Exhaustion had set in, but knew he needed to reach his target to gain proper first aid.
He arrived at the police station minutes later, staggering upon leaving the truck. With his wound increasing in pain and vision blurred, Frank’s face sweated constantly. He mumbled uncontrollable words during the agonizing walk through the double doors that led to the reception desk.
The receptionist spotted him. A uniformed man helped her escort Frank to a seat. He then politely asked the receptionist to fetch the man some water while he kept the stranger company. “That appears to be a nasty gash on your arm, mate. Do you mind telling me what happened?”
Excess bodily fluid still poured from the large, seventeen-stone man, but he had stopped muttering to himself. He remained shaken and was obviously still in pain. The cringing of facial muscles proved that.
“I need to see a doctor. It’s killing me. My arm feels like it’s falling off.”
“Okay, my friend. I’ll sort you out with some first aid, but I’m going to need some information to decipher exactly what happened…”
Just at that moment the receptionist returned with a glass filled with water. The sick man took it from her, sitting with his left hand smothering the drinking vessel. The right one was now too infected from the bite to even move at this point. The drink was rushed down his throat with speed.
“Let’s start with your name?” said the officer.
The wounded man focused a touch better now.
“Frank.” His eyes squinted, the wound throbbing more and more during each heartbeat. “When am I going to get some help? I can’t think with this agony.”
The man in charge of the situation looked across at the female receptionist.
“Susan, could you please fetch the first aid box.”
“I’m on my way,” she replied.
The officer watched the slim, petite, spectacle wearing lady race off again before returning his attention back to the truck driver. He noticed sweat dripping constantly from Frank’s brow. “My name’s Mike. Can you tell me how you obtained that nasty laceration on your arm?”
Mike was the local Chief Inspector, a kind hearted, helpful male, who did his utmost to look after his staff and the residents of this town. When others fell apart around him, he would be the one who picked them up again. He’d proved that during the violence of last Christmas and was recommended for an award for keeping this town together during that awful time.
Frank took a deep breath before telling the chief what’d happened, and Mike was able to place the beginning of the story back to Frank’s phone call.
But why was he here?
Mike remained silent in case the answer waited for him in the man’s agonizing speech. Frank continued, mentioning the person who attacked him.
“Where’s this person now?” Mike asked.
Frank winced, and with the slightest of whispers answered. “I killed her...”
Mike seemed confused by the faint words so asked Frank to repeat himself, but this made the truck driver rather upset. He was ashamed at what he’d done to both victims and wasn’t planning on telling everybody that he’d been involved in such a wicked act of violence. His mind flashed back to the horror and the visions dug into him. He had to let this anger out. “I fucking killed her…” he roared.
Everyone in the building heard him. The volume switch in Frank’s voice lowered again as he quickly glanced at the startled Mike. “I killed some people today. Do you understand what I’m trying to say to you?”
Tears formed diminutive pools of water around his eyes. His hands covered his face as he sobbed into them.
Mike shrugged his shoulders and was still lost, even as Frank explained the story to him again, so needed to hear from Wayne or Jason before receiving a more up-to-date explanation.
Susan returned with a bandage and some antiseptic fluid, but now stared at the wreck of a man as he remained sitting with his head and hands on his lap.
“Susan, get on the phone and speak to Wayne. Tell him that the truck driver’s with me and he’s been attacked by somebody on the road. He claims to have lashed out at the assailant. Tell Wayne to check the roadside for any signs of an injured person before heading back here.” The worried inspector reached out, taking the items from the receptionist. “I’m going to sort out Frank’s arm then I’m taking him to the hospital.”
Mike could’ve let Susan deal with Frank but the troubled driver trusted him, so felt it best if he remained with the man.
Frank leaned back again, removing his hands to let Mike do what had to be done. His belt was unbuckled and thrown to one side as Mike removed the clothing from around the bite mark. He then disinfected the wound, tipping the antiseptic fluid over the gash. Mike noticed that the other person wasn’t flinching anymore. The pain now seemed numb to Frank. His right side was so far infected with the virus that it felt like the arm was getting better, but it wasn’t, it was becoming much, much worse. Mike wrapped the bandage over the area while Frank gazed into space.
An ambulance and a second police car had arrived at the death scene while Wayne spoke to Susan on the phone. The occupants of the police vehicle were assembling plastic barriers on either side of the crime scene, blocking off the road to stop anyone from nearing. “Mike wants us to check the area for more bodies?” Wayne asked again, as he listened to the repeated reply. “This place is becoming freakier and freakier. Tell the chief I’ll get in touch soon.”
You couldn’t tell from the quick conversation that Wayne and Susan were dating. It wasn’t common knowledge to most of the police force but they’d been seeing each other for a few months now. The Christmas tragedy had brought them closer together. Jason had been Wayne’s partner for some time and he wasn’t able to notice, but maybe Mike did? He noticed virtually everything happening in the workplace.
Wayne teamed up with Jason again to explain the orders, but the reaction on the younger man’s face revealed that he wasn’t surprised to hear this. According to Jason, all strange events came in threes, and he’d already witnessed two clear cases of weirdness today.
Wayne watched the paramedics examine the body and moved toward them.
“How’d you think she died?” he stupidly asked.
One of the medics stared up at the sergeant. “Well, let me see.” With his right index finger placed on the tip of his lips and his face showing signs of someone thinking, the medic continued. “I think she must’ve had a heart attack.” He wasn’t impressed by what the sergeant said. “Are you fucking blind?” he bellowed. “Can’t you see she’s been hacked to death? The poor girl never stood a fucking chance.”
Wayne responded to the other man’s attack of words but never shouted back. “Calm down. I know this is very distressing but shouting at me isn’t going to bring her back, or make the situation any better.”
The medic realized he was out of order and calmed down. “You’re right. I’m sorry for snapping. I’m just shaken up by what’s in front of us. This is where I live and someone has been murdered here.” There was no denying that this man felt saddened by the sight. “What about my family? How’d I know they’re safe? Who is safe?”
Neither of the officers could answer the medic, but a worried expression was passed between them as they remained silent for the next ten seconds.
The dead woman was wrapped inside a body bag and the two, confused medics placed her into the back of the ambulance. Wayne knew that his next piece of information wouldn’t be greeted with kindness by the medics. He said that there’s another corpse down the road and there could well be a third, so the a
mbulance men were going to be as busy as the officers. A quick description of the whereabouts of the torn apart body and the latest sighting was enough to give the medics an idea.
Wayne turned to the occupiers of the second police car as the ambulance left the crime scene. He gave them instructions on other possible areas to search. They were to keep the road blocked until further notice then enter the forest in their quest for clues.
Wayne and Jason left the area to continue their search for the possibility of there being a third body, and a reunion with the hospital workers.
A bloodstained figure lay on the road less than a mile from where Charmaine’s body had been found. Both officers exited the car. They gawped at the blood from the crushed area as a picture of coated scarlet formed a pattern that spread along the country lane.
“Bloody hell Wayne, what’s going on? This isn’t normal.”
“Jason, you’ve got to stay focused on your job. I don’t want you going off the rails again.”
Jason had been known to lose it in the past, so, if normal, everyday crime got to him, then there was no hope during this experience. This worried Wayne in case the constable wasn’t able to cope with the pressure.
“Hey, don’t stress, I’m fine. Everything’s getting a bit too bizarre that’s all.”
“You’d better stay that way for all our sakes. I’m letting the chief know what’s happened.”
Jason searched the area for more clues and spotted an object lying on the road. The sticky, darkened, dried in blood of the victim was still wrapped around it. He picked it up, walking toward Wayne as he returned from his quick chat with the chief. “What’ve you got there?” Wayne shouted.
“Proof that the truck driver’s a fucking maniac.”
“You aren’t going on about that again?”
“He bashed this poor girl to a pulp with this wheel lock. I know she’s not a pretty woman and probably came from a freak show, but he didn’t need to smash her skull in. He’s going down for doing this.”
“Let’s not get over excited. We don’t know what happened. Mike’s with him. They’re on their way to casualty so he isn’t going anywhere.”
Wayne sensed Jason’s fury over letting the truck driver get away from him earlier. All the joking around over the splattered corpse was soon erased from his mind and replaced with a one-hundredper-cent certainty that Frank was a killer.
The medics located the officers again, parking the ambulance next to the police car before the back of the red and white vehicle opened up. Another body-bag was released before the doors swiftly shut tight, stopping the stench from the inside leaking out.
“I hope this is the last one, as this is doing my head in,” one of the medics said. He tried holding himself together in order to shift the latest dead body from the ground. “There’s something odd about that other body. To my knowledge it’d been deceased for at least a week, so how could that be?”
“Don’t worry, we noticed it as well. I didn’t tell you because I needed a second opinion, and wanted to know if I was losing the plot,” Wayne replied.
The other paramedic decided to have his say on the subject. “There’s something bizarre going on. A mouldy, half eaten, chopped up body shouldn’t be out there on the road, so how did it happen?”
Jason dived in with his observation. “Hey, we solve the crimes and you guys pick up the bodies. That’s all you need to know for now, mate.”
That response flustered the medics, but in truth the young constable was kind of right.
Wayne ushered his partner away while aiming a final speech at the ambulance men. “We’ll leave you to it. We’re heading back to headquarters. Enjoy your day.”
TEN
Vincent Smythe left the bank at 1.00pm and headed home for his dinner break. He drove his vehicle up to his driveway, exited it, and opened the front door. From the position of where he stood, could enter the living room via two doors, the one leading from the kitchen, or the one to the side of him. Both doors were closed.
“Mary, I’m home. What have I got for lunch today?” There was no reply. This puzzled him.
She might’ve gone upstairs for a rest, he thought.
He made his way to the bedroom, but she wasn’t there. “Mary, Mary, where are you?”
All upstairs rooms were checked, but it was clear that Mary wasn’t anywhere and Vincent became concerned for her.
She said she’d be at home when I came back for lunch.
He went downstairs, feeling more puzzled, and moved along the hallway, but has he reached the kitchen, stopped in his tracks and glared through the kitchen window. Someone had tampered with his mother’s grave and the back door had been left wide open. Vincent assumed that Bruno had been the culprit behind the disturbance.
“Blasted dog, it’s got no respect for the dead. If I ever catch the little blighter messing about on my property then I’ll make sure the little shit won’t do it again.”
He shouted the words because if his wife was around then she’d definitely know her husband was back.
He stepped outside to investigate, moving quickly down the garden, spurred on with a mixture of fury and concern, but when he reached the site of the grave, found out that there was another problem to deal with--where was his mum? Vincent took a deep breath. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so did neither. He then turned around and slowly walked back to his house.
How am I going to explain this to the police? They’ll surely laugh at me, the angry man thought.
Vincent was so annoyed that he actually contemplated going next door to complain about what the dog had done, but soon changed his mind after remembering what happened the last time he went round to complain about Bruno. He’d received a right load of verbal from the dog’s owner, so it was best if he let the police handle this one.
He noticed dirty, footprint shaped patterns all over the kitchen floor tiles upon entering the house again. The path led right up to the living room door.
What’s Mary playing at? he wondered.
Vincent’s thought pattern had become as confusing to him as the whereabouts of Mary. He scanned the kitchen for any sign of activity. There was nothing unusual to report, apart from two things; some saucepans lying on the floor, and the most important one was that Mary hadn’t made a start on his lunch.
The lazy cow, he thought.
He moved closer to the door and with a nervous hand reached out to grip the handle. It was now time to find out where the mystery footprints led, but Vincent stopped upon opening the door. He stared at the bloodstains on the wall above the fireplace, the rearranged furniture, and in amongst all the crazy chaos, his wife’s mutilated body lying on the carpet, with the top of her head ripped clean open. A blood-drenched Stanley knife lay nearby. He froze as his eyes took in the series of horror images.
The room wasn’t silent and Vincent’s ears twitched as a strange sucking sound was heard coming from behind the settee. He now thought he was in the twilight zone. This day had started with its usual routine and now, a few hours later, he was standing inside his living room facing the worst day of his life. The sound gained his full attention. Vincent freed himself from staring at his wife’s faceless body and moved toward the noise to investigate. He cautiously sneaked up to the piece of furniture and leaned over it. Sitting on the carpet was a crumpled up, old, female figure, and in between its hands was the remaining part of Mary’s brain. The zombie sucked blood from it before biting chunks off the organ and devouring it. Sticky, red fragments covered the strange being’s face, and it had the eating habits of a wild animal, but not once did it glance at Vincent, it just remained eating.
More thoughts of horror flashed in and out of his troubled mind now.
Surely, he thought, this wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real. It had to be some kind of a sick joke. Somehow he knew it wasn’t, as his wife wasn’t into playing practical jokes on people.
Vincent, now petrified by what he’d seen, rushed out of the neares
t door, slamming the front one behind him as he headed for his car. There was a mobile phone in there, a secret phone for his secret fantasy friends, if he actually had any. His hands shook robustly as he opened the door. He then sat inside with his legs touching the concrete slabs on the driveway. Body crouched over. All of a sudden, an eruption of body-waste rose up his throat. It exposed itself to the outside world before leaving a massive splash of a watered down meal on the driveway. Vincent then reached for his mobile and rang the police station, but butted in with his own words before the person on the other end could introduce herself. “I need help. My wife’s been murdered.”
Susan was having the shift of all shifts.
We’ve already dealt with three reported incidents of dead bodies and now there was a man claiming that his wife had been killed.
“Can you tell me your name and address and I’ll send someone down to you right away?”
Vincent’s voice trembled as he spoke, but he managed to extract the information. Susan tried settling him down, but if he was anything like Frank then she’d have to tread carefully. “Okay, Mr Smythe, there’ll be someone with you very shortly.”
The mobile was switched off. Vincent remained seated in the car. His eyes staying glued to the house.
A police car arrived on the scene. The neighbours emerged from their homes to watch the commotion unfold.
Don’t they have anything better to do with their time? Wondered Wayne, as he arrived at the house. He’d become a busy man recently, but this time Jason wasn’t with him. The sergeant had left the fired up constable behind to finish off the paperwork. Instead he brought with him another police constable, a new officer to the force.
“What seems to be the problem? You said your wife had been murdered. Is this true?” Wayne asked the shell-shocked man.
The neighbours talked amongst themselves. Ears tingled as they tried catching some of the words floating in the air.
