ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror

by Wright, Iain Rob

  Andrew kept his back close to the wall as he progressed down the corridor. He may have been willing to get caught by the police, but not until he saw that Bex was okay. He followed the signs for Ward 7 – he was sure that was the right one.

  The hallways up ahead were busier: doctors milled about casually while nurses rushed around them like frenzied ants. They weren’t quite the hectic, overly-stressed staff from A and E, but seemed agitated all the same. A sign hanging from the ceiling read: RECOVERY WARDS.

  Andrew reached the end of the corridor and looked around the corner. His heart skipped three beats when he saw the police officers standing there. They were gathered around a single room.

  It must be Bex’s room.

  So close. So goddamn close.

  Andrew leant back against the wall and beat his head against the cement. The pounding actually helped him think, dulling the pain that emanated from a dozen different places on his body. He had to find a way to get the officers away. Andrew couldn’t risk Frankie sneaking in and hurting his daughter while the police were busy arresting him.

  Looking around, Andrew noticed something that could offer a solution. On the wall, only a few feet away, was a small red panel with a film of glass at its centre. Written in ominous white font were the words: PRESS IN CASE OF FIRE.

  There was no fire, but Andrew wasted no time in pressing his thumb against the glass. It compressed within its red metal surroundings and a shrill alarm pierced the air. Andrew glanced back around the corner and watched the confusion percolate amongst the staff and members of the public. Even better, Andrew watched while a nurse walked up to the police officers and insisted that they left the ward along with everyone else. It didn’t look like they were willing but, thankfully, the nurse was persistent. Then something that did not occur to Andrew started to happen. Orderlies appeared and went about wheeling the various patients out of the wards. Andrew felt stupid that it hadn’t occurred to him that the whole hospital would be evacuated, patients and all – not just the staff.

  Andrew watched while a young male orderly entered Bex’s room to bring her out. Andrew had no choice but to make his move. He dashed across the nurse’s area, dodging between preoccupied men and women that were unaware the fire was fictitious. He hopped out of the way of an oncoming gurney, shoes skidding on the polished floor, and then managed to barrel his body over to Bex’s room. He was just about to open the door when someone grabbed him from the side.

  “Andrew.”

  Andrew spun around with his fist raised, but lowered it when he saw it was Officer Dalton.

  “You need to come with me,” she told him. “I take it the fire alarm was your doing?”

  “I just need to see my daughter and then I’ll come with you.”

  Dalton shook her head. “I can’t allow it. There’s police looking everywhere for you. I can’t risk anyone witnessing me doing anything other than taking you in, Andrew. I already gave you the chance to do what you needed to do. Now you need to keep your promise and come with me.”

  “Just let me say goodbye to my daughter. You can wait right outside the door.”

  Once again Andrew managed to get the female officer to relent. Her face softened and she actually seemed annoyed at herself for being so soft. “Just don’t make me regret this, okay? I’ve already put myself in jeopardy for you.”

  Andrew put his palm on the door to enter Bex’s room, but Dalton put a hand on his chest and stopped him. “Frankie?”

  Andrew looked her in the eye and shook his head solemnly. “I couldn’t find him.”

  Andrew pushed open the door and stepped inside. The first thing he saw was Bex lying in her bed. The second thing he saw was the orderly lying unconscious on the floor. The third thing he saw was Frankie standing to the side of him, a gun pointed at his face.

  Frankie cocked the revolver’s hammer and smiled. “Glad you could finally join us, Andrew. The party’s about to end.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Andrew stared down the barrel of the gun. Something he never thought he’d ever find himself doing. Guns were completely outlawed in the United Kingdom and he’d never seen one for real, but here he was now, close enough that he could smell the oil on the metal.

  “Daddy!”

  Bex was obviously terrified and Andrew didn’t want her to see that he was too. “It’s okay, sweetie,” he told her. “We’ll get this all worked out.”

  “I hear you had a little run in with Dom?” said Frankie. “Right after you killed his bro. That was cold, man.” His upper lip twitched as he spoke.

  Andrew put both hands above his head. It felt like the appropriate thing to do. “There’s police right outside the door, Frankie. Just give yourself up and there’s a chance you might not spend your entire life in jail.”

  Frankie laughed. “Not going to happen. Got business to deal with first. But hey, why leave your little police officer friend waiting outside? Bring her in to join the fun.”

  Andrew lowered his hands and raised his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

  Frankie motioned at the door with his revolver. “Shout her. Tell her to get in here. But don’t make it obvious what’s going on.”

  “No,” said Andrew in a firm voice. He would not bring anybody else into his mess. Dalton had already done enough for him as it was.

  Frankie pointed the gun at Bex. “I ain’t asking, Andrew. Unless you want me to make an entrance in your daughter’s forehead, I’d do as you’re told.”

  Andrew sighed. “Officer Dalton. I’m ready to go with you. Would you come in here?”

  There was a moment of silence before the officer replied from outside. “No. I think you should come out here.”

  Frankie shook the gun barrel at him. “Think fast, hero! Get her in here now or your daughter’s head becomes a wind tunnel.”

  Andrew swallowed a lump in his throat and considered his words carefully. “Officer Dalton, my daughter would like to speak to you before you arrest me. She wants you to promise you’ll get Frankie for what he’s done and that you will keep me safe.”

  Frankie laughed. “Nice.”

  The door opened and Dalton stepped through. “Sweetheart, I promise we’ll look after your dad…” Her words trailed off as her eyes caught Frankie standing in the corner of the room.

  Frankie grinned at her. “Well, hello there, honey. Why don’t you sit your fine ass down and join us.” He motioned with the gun towards a seat. “Do it now, before I start making holes in people.”

  Dalton let the door close behind her and took a step towards Frankie. “Drop the weapon! Drop it right now and no one has to get hurt.”

  “Don’t think you understand who has the power here, luv. I have a gun and you…don’t.”

  Dalton continued to stare Frankie down and Andrew noticed her gradually move a hand to her hip, resting it on the utility belt that ringed her waist. “I won’t ask you again,” she told Frankie. “Put. The. Weapon. Down.”

  Frankie’s self-assured grin grew wider. “Sit the fuck down, you stupid bitch. You ain’t telling no one to do nothing.”

  Suddenly Dalton reached for something at her belt; clawing at one of the many pouches. But she wasn’t quick enough. Frankie pulled the trigger before Andrew could even see what it was she’d been reaching for.

  The whole room seemed to explode with sound. Andrew’s ears rang and his vision tilted to-and-fro. When it finally returned to normal, Dalton was sprawled across the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath her. She was alive, but the gunshot wound had made a mess of her guts.

  Bex screamed from her bed.

  Andrew scurried to help Dalton but Frankie stood in his way, cocking the revolver ready for the next shot. “Stay the-fuck still.”

  “Let me help her,” Andrew pleaded.

  Frankie shook his head and sneered. “What is there to help? She’s finished.”

  Andrew looked down at Dalton and disagreed. She was certainly in bad shape, but she was still consci
ous and moving – dragging herself across the floor and propping herself up against the wall. With medical attention, she could make it through, he was sure of it, but if things went on much longer her chances would not be so good.

  Another life hanging in the balance of Frankie’s vendetta.

  Frankie prodded Andrew in his bad ribs with the gun barrel making him wince, then prodded him again for good measure. “Sit down on the floor,” he ordered. “No more pissing about’.”

  Andrew glanced at his daughter who had tears in her eyes. Then he looked away because it hurt too much to see her in pain. He bent his knees and slid himself down onto the floor beside the door and looked over to the adjacent wall at Dalton. She looked right back at him. Her face was pasty, sweat-covered and pale. Blood spilled from her stomach in a steady stream, drenching her white shirt.

  “Why are you doing this?” Andrew asked Frankie from the floor. “I mean really? You’re going to spend your whole life in jail, and for what? Because you don’t like the look of my face?”

  Frankie’s upper lip twitched. “Shut up! I ain’t ever going down again. I’ll die first.”

  “So why then? If you never want to go to prison again, why cause trouble the moment you’re released?”

  “What the fuck else I gonna do? Work at a bank?”

  Andrew shrugged his shoulders. “Why not? You could have done a million different things – but instead you choose to murder my wife?”

  “Mum?” Bex’s eyes went wide. “No, she’s not dead. She can’t be.”

  Andrew hadn’t meant for his daughter to find out like that and cursed himself for not thinking. Now that she knew, he was unable to console her. Frankie had once again managed to prevent him from looking after his family.

  “I’m sorry,” Andrew told her. “I didn’t find out until after I left you.”

  Bex mewled like a wounded animal and buried her face in her hands. Andrew turned his stare back to Frankie. “Do you enjoy this? Ruining lives? Causing pain to innocent people?”

  “Who says you’re innocent?”

  Andrew was ready to give up. There was no part of Frankie that had any remorse or understanding. There might have been something there, deep beneath the surface, which could be scratched at, but Andrew had no idea what it was.

  “My daughter is innocent,” said Andrew. “What has she ever done?”

  “She belongs to you.”

  “And what have I done? Is this all because I didn’t buy you a packet of fags?”

  Frankie was breathing quickly and his twitch was becoming even more erratic. “You needed to learn a lesson.”

  “What lesson? You know nothing about me?”

  “I needed to teach you some respect.”

  “Why is it so important that some guy you never met respects you? Are you that insecure?”

  Frankie thrust the gun forward at Andrew and for a moment it looked like he would pull the trigger again. Andrew didn’t flinch, though – not for a scumbag like Frankie. When the gun didn’t go off, it became clear that Andrew was scratching at something – something beneath Frankie’s calloused exterior that was heavily guarded.

  Andrew smirked, enjoying the sight of Frankie’s squirming. “But this was never about me, was it? This is about your own bullshit. So what is it, Frankie? Daddy abuse you?”

  “Fuck you! I never even knew my Dad.”

  Andrew was getting close. He could sense it. “Hardly surprising having met your mother. Maybe it was the young offender’s home, then? Did one of the bigger boy’s make you his bitch?”

  Frankie pulled the trigger. Andrew’s vision went white like someone had lit a firework inside his skull. The pain came hot and heavy, accompanied by thick waves of nausea and mind-rattling dizziness.

  I’ve been shot. Holy shit, I’ve been shot.

  The pain was so gigantic and all-consuming that Andrew couldn’t even tell where he’d been hit. It was only when his vision returned, and he saw the blood pouring from his knee, that he knew. The agony was so massive that Andrew knew straight away that he’d never walk the same again.

  If this psychopath doesn’t kill me altogether.

  Bex was screaming again, crying out for her father and begging for Frankie to leave them all alone.

  “I told you not to fuck with me,” Frankie shouted at Andrew on the floor. “I told you, didn’t I?”

  Andrew slid along on the floor like a wounded slug, leaving behind a trail of hot, sticky blood. He dragged himself towards Dalton who was staring at him wide-eyed, no doubt wondering how the hell she had gotten herself into this situation. Andrew knew how she felt.

  Frankie marched forward and kicked Andrew’s wounded knee. The pain bloomed again like a nuclear explosion, chasing away his vision in a cloud of agony.

  “Please,” Andrew cried out. “Haven’t you done enough? Please, just leave us alone. I’m begging you”

  “Why would I do that?” Frankie kicked Andrew again, this time in the side of the head, sending him dizzy. “If I kill the three of you, who’s going to say I did anything?”

  “The police already have…Andrew’s…statements,” said Dalton in a half-conscious drawl. We know all about you, Francis Walker.”

  Frankie was clearly unhappy at the news, but it wasn’t enough to deter him. “Well, it still wouldn’t do any harm getting rid of the witnesses, would it?” He placed himself down on Bex’s bed and she squirmed as he started to stroke her face. “Shall I leave you for last, princess? Let you watch all the fun before I put your lights out too?”

  “Please,” she sobbed. “Just go. Me and my dad won’t say anything.”

  Frankie laughed. “Seriously? You’re going to go with that old chestnut? It doesn’t work in the movies and I can tell you right now that it doesn’t work in real life either, sweetheart.”

  “Get away from her, you evil bastard.”

  Frankie looked down at Andrew across the room and laughed. “Or else what, you sad cripple? You couldn’t take me with both legs, so what use are you now?” Frankie put a finger in his mouth and sucked it before holding it in the air. Andrew was forced to watch while he delved it beneath his daughter’s blankets. Bex struggled and squirmed while Frankie cackled almost uncontrollably. His laughter stopped when she struck his face with her hand. The slapping sound filled the room and was then followed by absolute silence.

  Frankie got up off the bed and yelled “Slag!” at her. Then he lunged forward and punched her in the face. It wasn’t hard enough to knock her out cold, but it seemed to rattle her senses loose, eyes rolling about in her head.

  Andrew couldn’t help but curse at Frankie, despite the fact it could lead to another gunshot or more brutality. His hatred was too much to contain. “You pathetic little bully. Taking things out on a helpless girl, all because you got passed around a kid’s jail like the television remote. I bet you’ve got an arsehole like a clown’s pocket.”

  Frankie pointed the gun at Andrew again. It was obvious that his comments were on the money. The words were getting through to him. This time, though, Frankie’s reaction was calmer. He lowered the gun away from Andrew.

  Then pointed it at Bex.

  And fired.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Davie got off the bus at the stop nearest the hospital. It was only across the road and in less than a minute he was walking through the car park and heading for the main building. He didn’t know exactly where inside he would find Andrew or Frankie, but he knew that asking a member of staff would probably be a bad idea. When he saw the crowd gathering outside the hospital’s main entrance, accompanied by a shrill, ringing alarm, Davie knew that finding his brother might possibly be easier than he imagined. Something had happened inside the hospital and it would be a pretty safe bet that Frankie would be involved somehow.

  There were hospital employees all over the road comforting patients on gurneys. There were also several police officers standing around grumpily. Davie would have to avoid them all if he had any
chance of getting inside the hospital.

  He stepped behind a row of cars and made his way forward in a crouch. There didn’t seem any possible way to make it through the main entrance without someone stopping him, and there was no other obvious way in. Perhaps there were rear entrances.

  Davie snuck around the back of an ambulance and headed down one side of the hospital. There was a power generator inside a brick enclosure around the corner and, beyond that, a wall lined by many square windows. Even further ahead was something that was just what Davie needed: an open fire exit. Only trouble was a hospital employee standing there in a chef’s uniform, puffing a cigarette as though the ringing alarms were of no concern to him.

  “Hey,” said Davie, approaching the man nonchalantly. “Having a sneaky fag?”

  The man nodded. “I’d just finished my break when the fire alarms went off. Thought it was a good opportunity for another. Managed to buy another pack just as the gift shop was clearing out.”

  “Won’t they be doing a role call or something?”

  The man shrugged. “Probably. It’s just a false alarm, though. Do you see any fires?”

  Davie shook his head. “In that case, can I go through?”

  The man took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke in the air. “What is it tonight with people not using the main entrance?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just twenty minutes ago some dude was asking me the same question.”

  “Really? What did he look like?”

  The man narrowed his eyes. “Messed up. Face all ripped and shit. What’s it to you, kid, anyway?”