Throwaways

by Jenny Thomson

  Tommy’s body relaxed. “Okay, but we stick together. We don’t split up at any point.” He motioned to Eric. “You take the front and I’ll bring up the rear.”

  “Okay,” I said, wondering if he’d get me to wear those reins that anxious parents put on their kids to stop them from straying off.

  “And bring your taser.”

  Taser? What did he think I was gonna do – bring my lipstick?

  Biting back a catty remark, I followed the pair round the back of the hospital, noticing for the first time that they both had guns.

  Tommy caught me looking. “We have special dispensation from the Home Secretary to carry guns because we’re Special Forces.”

  I would have said “Oh,” but I was too busy noticing that someone had been here recently. The grass that covered the loading bay had been trampled down and tyre marks were clearly visible. Judging by the space between them they’d come from a van.

  As we got closer, we could see that the rusty padlock on the service door that led to the basement had been cut. My heart started to beat faster. Were we finally going to find Sheena and the others? Please, god, if they were here, let them be alive.

  Quietly, Eric pushed the door open and headed inside, gun drawn. I followed.

  We’d brought torches, but we didn’t need them. The place was well lit. They must have been using the old hospital generator because surely the electricity would have been cut off a long time ago.

  Inside the building, the stench had hit me as soon as I walked through the door, instinctively making me take a step back. I remember reading somewhere that in America they have these shutdown jails – everything is shut off including electricity and water in these abandoned jails. With all the bad air trapped inside they stink when they’re opened up again. The hospital reeked of that level of abandonment. Not even the smashed windows seemed to have aired out the place.

  A dirty brown rat the size of a cat scuttled across me and bolted for the door and I felt like joining the creature. If smells could kill this one would knock you dead.

  We followed Eric down the stairs, taking great care not to let the metal door swing behind us in case it banged or squeaked.

  Now we were inside the hospital basement we faced a dilemma. There were three marked doors. The letters had faded, but we could make out the signs on two of them – laundry and treatment room.

  The decision was made for us when we heard a woman’s scream coming from behind the unmarked door. Eric indicated that he’d go in first and I followed him.

  “I’m phoning the police,” was the last thing Tommy said before I followed Eric through that door.

  And that’s when someone hit me…

  Chapter 25

  When I came to, my clothes were plastered to my body with sweat and my head felt like someone had been using it to play a game of dodgeball.

  Slowly, my eyes came into focus. I was in a large room with peeling white paint and the stench of human faeces. Sheena Andrews was standing over me, her eyes glazed. She was wearing a filthy dress that might once have been pink, over her tiny frame. Straggly hair hung down her shoulders covering some of her face. She reminded me of Sadako, the creepy dead girl who crawled out of the telly in Ring.

  “Sheena, are you okay?”

  My words came out scratchy. It was so hot inside, my throat felt like it’d been sandpapered down. Near me, someone groaned.

  Eric was on the floor; his head slumped to one side. There was a knife protruding from his gut.

  What the hell happened?

  There was fresh blood on Sheena’s dress.

  “Sheena, what have you done?”

  Why would she stab Eric? It didn’t make sense.

  I had to help him.

  Trying to get up proved to be a mistake, as the room swirled like water draining down a plughole. Instead, I forced myself to crawl over to Eric. There had to be something I could do.

  I’d almost reached Eric when I was yanked back. At first I thought someone had grabbed me, but then I felt the weight on my ankle.

  What the hell!

  I looked round to see that there was a shackle on my ankle that was attached to a long chain that was bolted to the wall. I was going nowhere. Getting through to Sheena was my only chance.

  My gut clenched as I pictured Tommy with a knife stuck in him too, his lifeblood seeping out onto the floor. Where the hell was he? He should have burst into the room and be cleaning house by now.

  “Sheena.” I said her name softly. “I spoke to your mum and dad. They miss you.”

  Not so much as a flicker.

  “They want you to come home. They said Chester misses you.”

  There was an almost imperceptible movement of her eyes when I mentioned her horse.

  “Wouldn’t you love to see Chester again?”

  She was still off in la la land as she played with the dirty bandage that covered the stump of her missing finger. In these filthy conditions it was a wonder it hadn’t got infected and killed her.

  Time for a change of tact.

  “I met Donna,” I said brightly. “She thinks you’re dead and she’s responsible. She wishes she’d gone with you.”

  “Donna.” She said her friend’s name so faintly at first I thought I’d imagined it, but then she met my gaze; eyes slowly coming alive and filled with confusion. “Is she okay?”

  She took a step towards me. That’s when I spotted Eric’s gun on the window ledge. It was too far away for me to reach. I needed to get free.

  “She’s fine,” I said. “Still saying you know at the end of every sentence. Still gobby.”

  Sheena’s face relaxed, her lips curling into something approaching a smile.

  “Can you unlock this?” My gaze focused on the chain around my ankle. “My friend Eric needs urgent medical help or he might die.”

  She placed a finger on her lips. “Sssshhh, he’s coming.”

  Despite the summer heat, I shivered.

  There were footsteps and my heartbeat quickened. There was nothing I could use as a weapon within reach. The only thing within range was a filthy mattress that should have been incinerated years ago. My taser was gone.

  “Sheena,” I said quietly, “you need to help me get free.” I tried to keep a lid on my rising panic.

  Sheena didn’t reply. She simply stood there, waiting; an obedient little servant. Panic beat against my chest like a steel drum. I was going to die here or worse, the doctor’s mad brother was going to keep me here all chained up then dissect me bit by bit because the voices told him to.

  A thought crept into my head; a plan so crazy, it might just work. Lying flat down on the floor, I pretended to still be unconscious. There was a creak as the doors swung open, followed by footsteps.

  “Good girl,” I heard a man say in a soft Irish lilt. His voice had a hypnotic quality to it. He sounded like a therapist, not a schizophrenic.

  His tone didn’t change when he addressed Eric. “Tell me where your other friend is, or I’ll twist the knife in deeper and don’t lie to me about him being here; I saw him on the cameras.”

  Shit, why hadn’t we spotted them?

  “What’s that?”

  He must have leaned over Eric’s prone body to hear and been told to go fuck himself, because the next thing Eric screamed; a feral scream that could have come from a wild animal. The bastard must have twisted the knife.

  Unless I did something he was going to kill him.

  “Please, help me,” I said. I made my words sound as pathetic as I could. “I can’t move. I think I’m paralysed.” My eyes were open wide and staring up at the ceiling. I had to make him think there was something wrong with me so he’d leave Eric alone and come over.

  He said something like “I’ll deal with you later,” to Eric and strode over to me. That’s when I realised that we’d all been duped. Donald Cassidy wasn’t dead. Unless the doctor had a double, he was very much alive. How was that even possible?

  DI Waddell ha
d a lot of explaining to do. How the hell had the boys in blue missed Cassidy’s switcheroo?

  “I can’t move,” I mumbled, so he’d have to crouch down to hear me. He knelt down. That’s when I sprang into action.

  Seizing the Stanley knife I’d secreted in my sock, I flicked it open and jumped to my feet.

  “Don’t be silly, girly. I know you’re not going to use it.”

  His use of girly really pissed me off.

  “Is that right?” I hissed.

  Without any hesitation, I lashed out with the blade and raked it across his ankle, slicing it open like it was a banana. He shrieked and staggered backwards, yelling and that’s when I stuck a leg out. He tripped and fell, agonisingly too far away for me to rummage through his pockets for the keys to the chain. The knife flew out of my hand and landed too far away for me to reach it. Casting a glance towards Sheena, I knew she’d be no help – she was still a robot. Any chance I’d had of escape was gone.

  When I heard footsteps, my heart did a wee skip. It had to be Tommy.

  The door swung open to reveal the last person I expected to see. Lorna Chanderpaul.

  In that instant, I realised that she’d done more than supply Cassidy with girls.

  He was coming for her. Not the nicer one who’d stroked Diane’s hair and told her she was pretty before the mean one who called himself doctor had marched in and scudded him across the face with an open palm, calling him a dumb boy and ordering him out the room.

  She hadn’t seen the nicer one for days now or was it weeks? In here, time had lost all meaning.

  Would Kyra even remember her? Or, was her mum her mum now? She knew she should be happy that her wee girl had someone, but instead she felt sad. Kyra was the only good thing that’d ever happened to her.

  Sometimes she’d wake up and feel Kyra stroking her hair the way she always did on the nights when she’d have a bad dream, when she’d come running into her bed bawling because she was convinced something terrible was hiding in her wardrobe. When she realised Kyra wasn’t there, it physically hurt…

  The footsteps outside the room got closer and Diane’s heart was beating so fast she thought it was about to burst. It made it worse that he always fumbled about with different keys as if he couldn’t remember which key to use. He liked to mess with her mind. He liked to do that as well as sticking needles in her. At one point, he’d even thrust one long one deep inside her as she’d thrashed against the restraints and screamed until her throat was raw underneath the gag. Finally she’d passed out with the pain.

  When she’d asked him why he was doing this, he’d said she was wicked and needed to be cured. Then he’d grabbed her by the hair and dragged her into another room with a bath. He’d ordered her to strip and climb into the bath with lukewarm water and the kind of scrubbing brush you’d use to scrub the stairs.

  “Use that,” he’d ordered, holding up the brush. “And scrub yourself clean. If you miss a spot I’ll do it for you.”

  She didn’t dare defy him.

  She’d scrubbed herself until her skin stung and bled. Afterwards, as her vision swam with tears, he’d hauled her out of the bath and flung her and her clothes back in this room.

  There’d been no food or water for her that night.

  When the door opened, she braced herself for what she knew was about to happen…

  Chapter 26

  Lorna swept into the room and eyed us all dismissively. “For Christ’s sake, Donald, you’ve really messed up this time. Why is…” She pointed at Sheena, “that little tart still alive. I told you to dispose of her. She can’t be cured. Just like your useless, retarded brother Eddie.”

  Donald Cassidy was on his feet. “I’m sorry, Lorna. Things got out of hand, but I can fix this. We can move on, start again and continue with our good work. Cure these poor wretches of their debauchery.” His soft Irish brogue had turned whiny.

  Lorna made a huh noise. “Like you fixed it when Eddie played out his sick fantasies and strangled that Henderson whore. Like you fixed it when you let that little scrubber live. Forgive me if I no longer have any faith in you, Dr. Cassidy.” She sneered when she said his name. “You’ve become a liability.”

  What happened next happened so fast I wouldn’t have been able to intervene even if I hadn’t been chained to the wall. Cassidy, who’d been edging his way closer to Lorna, fell into her and I heard her surprised yelp as an arterial spray of blood soaked Cassidy’s coat. Her chocolate brown eyes stared at Cassidy with confusion before she slumped to the floor with a red gash at her throat.

  Someone screamed and at first I thought it was Sheena, until I realised it was me. Cassidy had a scalpel and he was staggering over to me with a mad look on his face.

  Moving as far back as the chain would allow I searched for a weapon. But, unless you counted an empty water bottle, there was nothing. He’d killed Lorna. Now he was gonna kill me.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I said, as he stepped over her body and advanced towards me. “Nobody needs to know what happened here. Please let me go.”

  I hated the pleading in my voice. This wasn’t how I wanted to go.

  There was the sound of something hitting the floor.

  “Nancy.”

  My name was spoken so quietly at first I thought that in the grips of my terror I’d imagined it. Then Eric said the one word that he knew I’d recognize. “Hustle.”

  As he’d taught me at the gym, I hurled myself at Cassidy. Cassidy didn’t expect it; you don’t expect the person you’re attacking to turn the tables.

  He went flying, landing with a crushing thud on his tailbone, his foot at an awkward angle.

  “You bitch,” he roared as he gazed in horror at his ruined ankle.

  I’d landed on my bum, but the chain had been yanked so far it’d whipped me back the way. Nothing was broken, but it damn well hurt.

  I could hear Eric’s ragged breath. Thank god, he was still alive, but he wouldn’t be for long unless I got him help. There had to be some way I could get free.

  Surveying the room, I looked for anything within reach, but there was nothing. The gun taunted me from the window ledge. Cassidy must have had the key for the chain in his pocket.

  There was only one thing I could do now.

  “I can help you,” I said to him. “Just throw me the keys to this chain.”

  “Do you think I’m stupid, girl? If I do that you’ll take your friend here out of here and the girl too, and phone the police. That’s what I’d do in your place.”

  “Look,” I said, “I just want to get Eric out of here. Why would I do anything to help the psycho bitch who stabbed him?” I glared at Sheena who was now hunkered down on the floor, arms folded and muttering away to herself. This had to be convincing. “Just let us go. You’ll have enough time to leave before we can get help.”

  Cassidy seemed to be considering it, but then said, “No, I don’t think so.”

  He started to crawl towards the door. Every movement must have taken him immense effort and because of the pain he grunted.

  He was half-way to the door when he spoke to Sheena. “Now, be a good girl and kill them.”

  Sheena moved towards me. In that moment, I knew what he’d done to her. She wasn’t drugged, she was hypnotized.

  “Now, be a good girl,” I said, “and sit back down.”

  I hoped it would work, but I’d no idea if a stranger saying it would have the desired effect.

  It didn’t look too good for me when Sheena picked up my knife and walked towards me…

  Chapter 27

  The door was nearly kicked off its hinges and Tommy appeared. Diane Chambers was with him and she was carrying a shovel. It dwarfed her small frame and looking at her I doubted she had the strength to raise it.

  Tommy took in the madness. The lifeless body of Lorna Chanderpaul. His injured friend, Eric. The crazy doctor.

  Marching over, he booted Cassidy in the body and there was the crunch of bone. Cassidy whimpe
red as Tommy rummaged through his pockets. Tommy pulled out a bunch of keys held together by a wire and threw them to me. Then he knelt down to check on Eric.

  “How is he?” I asked, fumbling with the keys, before finding the right one and springing myself free.

  Tommy’s face was grim. “I’ve managed to staunch the flow of blood and he’s still conscious, so I think he’s going to be okay.”

  I let out the breath I hadn’t even realised I’d been holding in. “Thank God for that.”

  Cassidy hadn’t finished yet, even as he lay whimpering on the floor.

  “You have no idea of the depravity, of the rottenness that exists at the core of those poor wretches. They’re painted as victims of circumstance, of addiction. But the truth is they go with any man, do anything they are paid to do because they enjoy it. They’re wicked.”

  This time I was the one who booted him in the ribs.

  Tommy stood there in a shooting stance. “The police will be here soon,” he said. “It has to be done NOW.”

  I was confused. “What?”

  “Kill the bastard, of course.”

  What the hell was he saying?

  “The police are coming,” I said. “Let them deal with him.”

  Tommy sniffed. “You know what’ll happen – he’s a psychologist. He knows how to play the system. They’ll declare him mad, put him in a cushy mental hospital. Then he’ll miraculously be cured; be freed to prey on others.”

  Was I really hearing this?

  Killing the bastard would be too easy. He needed to suffer; every day, every minute of the rest of his miserable life. His victims deserved their day in court.

  “Tommy, are you crazy? If you kill him like this, it’ll be cold-blooded murder. And we might never find Tanya.”

  Tommy shook his head, before he fixed me with a cold stare. “You don’t know what he did. You never saw what he did.”

  I didn’t want him to say it because whatever it was it had to be bad to make him go off the deep end like this. He was a soldier, he’d been in Iraq. He must have seen some horrendous things, but none of them had made him go rogue.