by David Carter
The phone rang once, twice, three times. He secretly hoped by some miracle that no one answered. The phone stopped ringing in his ear as he was greeted by an authoritative voice. “Glendale Police, Senior Constable O’Brian speaking.”
Jones coughed sharply, clearing the phlegm from his throat. “Good evening, Karl, Judge Matthew Jones here. How are you this evening?”
“I’m very well thanks, Jonesy, and yourself?”
“I’m fine, thank you, but I must confess, I have something I need to clear up with you right away.”
“Sure thing. What can I do to help?”
He hesitated before he said, “I know this sounds irregular, but have you made any potential enemies in your twelve years as a constable in Glendale?”
“I don’t think so; none that I’m aware of. But you never know who might take something as simple as a speeding ticket to heart these days.”
“What about your partner on night shift, Constable Luke Turner?”
“Where is this going, Jonesy?”
“Please, just humour me. I will get to the point in a moment.”
“Okay, hang on a sec...”
Jones heard the officers conversing in the background until a rustling noise in his ear told him O’Brian had picked up the receiver. “Same answer I’m afraid,” he said.
Jones went in for the kill. “Well, I have the unfortunate task of informing you that someone doesn’t agree with what the two of you get up to in the privacy of your home when you are off duty. And I must admit, they are not alone in their opinion on this matter.”
O’Brian grew impatient with Jones’ verbal diarrhoea. “Cut the crap, Jonesy. What the hell is this all about?”
“Okay, okay, cards on the table.” He paused, then said, “I received a rather disturbing message from somebody in my letterbox this morning, concerning you and Luke. And it contained photographic evidence proving, beyond a doubt, that you are both, shall I say, partners on and off duty?”
“If you have got something to say, Jonesy, just spit it out.”
O’Brian thought no one in Glendale knew their secret. They were bachelors and lived together which seemed innocent enough, as they were single men who worked night shift together. They were best mates; everyone in Glendale knew that.
Jones said, “Someone has blown the whistle on you, Karl. The mystery person knows you are both fags and took photos through your bedroom window at home while you were committing what I can only describe as—sexual blasphemy.”
O’Brian’s anger hit the roof as he yelled into the phone. “What the hell did you just call us? So we’re gay! Big fucking deal! All of you old fashioned derelicts need to get a grip on modern society!”
Jones had been ready for O’Brian’s verbal spray and held his ground. Putting on his judge’s persona, he addressed O’Brian authoritatively. “This town was built by hard working, God-fearing men who followed his ways in every aspect of life. And now, because of people like you, the morality of Glendale is going down the toilet! This town cannot allow men who participate in such detestable, vile acts of sin to be in positions of authority! Children look up to you with respect. You teach them to be good citizens with upstanding morals, only for me to find out both of you have been making a mockery of this town, while committing one of God’s most forbidden sins behind our backs!”
O’Brian exploded into the telephone. “Fuck you and God’s ways! I didn’t choose to be gay! People are born that way, you homophobic bigot! And we don’t have to justify our relationship to you, to God, or to anyone else in this fucking hick town!”
O’Brian was left out of breath as he slammed the receiver down, hanging up on Jones. “Stupid, fat prick!” he cursed.
O’Brian might have been gay, but he was in no way overtly queer with floppy wrists and a fabulous voice. He was just an average Joe. He liked sports, barbecues, and drinking cheap crates of beer. He could handle himself in a fight, and had a colourful vocabulary to match his hot temper.
He grabbed his bunch of keys off the desk and said to a stunned and confused Turner, “I know that overstuffed goose is the judge of this town, but as of right now I don’t give flying fuck! I’m either going to arrest him for verbally assaulting an officer while on duty, or I’m gonna kick the living shit out of him!”
He slammed the door behind him as he marched out of the station and got into his patrol car. He switched on the siren, slammed the gear lever into drive, and skidded off down the road, white hot with rage.
Chapter 12
The Watcher sat silently, submerged by the darkness of the gallery in the Glendale Christian Church, patiently waiting. He figured that O’Brian and Turner should’ve been given ample warning of their imminent demise by the time he had finished work for the day, as he’d delivered the photos along with the warning message at nine o’clock this morning to Jones’ house.
Twelve hours and counting...
He knew it would take some time for the message to be received, as Jones had had to run it by his secret club, and then find the courage to address the matter with both officers. But it was no bother; the wait was half the thrill.
The Watcher loved taking mental notes about people: their day’s journey, what route they took to work, what days they worked late. He would often follow people for the sheer fun of it just to see where they went and what they did when they got there. This curious habit had proved to be a fruitful pastime; he had uncovered many secrets people thought were safe from the eyes of the world, and discovered that Glendale was not the pretty oil painting people assumed.
It hadn’t bothered him when he’d found out about The Protectors of the Past, but he was furious they had failed in their duty, letting two otherwise respectable police officers, secretly involved in a homosexual relationship, slip through the net and become prominent members of the community. He’d also found out that the man they’d elected as head deacon of the Glendale Christian Church was stealing money from the church treasury. It was an outrage. The Protectors of the Past were, in his opinion, past their use-by date.
He genuinely admired what they stood for, as they had the same morals and high standards he regarded in life. Even so, he’d decided that if they made another embarrassing oversight in the near future, he would have to make them all redundant.
He lay down on one of the cushioned pews and settled in for the night. He figured O’Brian and Turner would have arrived by now if they were coming this evening, as both had already started their night shift, leaving them only the early hours of the morning to bring themselves before God and purge the sins from their souls.
I have given them sufficient warning. All sins are redeemable by the blood of the Lamb.
He shuddered as he reminisced on the perverted images he’d seen of them together through the lens of his camera.
If they refuse to accept the forgiving blood of Christ, then they will pay for their sins with their own.
He gave in to his heavy eyelids, drifting off to sleep with one eye open and an ear to the ground.
Waiting; watching.
Chapter 13
Archer locked the door to Blaze’s cell. He retreated to a comfortable viewing distance and waited for the bloodshed to begin.
Blaze and Nugget stared at each other, psyching each other out, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Blaze had the patience of a sniper when beginning a fight; he had no intentions of unnecessarily revealing his hand. The lack of action finally got the better of Nugget. He lunged forward and swung a right hook with his sizable fist directly at Blaze’s temple, going straight for the knockout blow. Blaze felt a rush of cool air brush over his head as he dodged the swinging arm, squatting at the precise moment, and before Nugget had followed through, Blaze used the strength in his powerful legs to drive himself up and deliver an uppercut to Nugget’s chin. His head violently snapped back from the force of the crunching blow, throwing him off balance for a split second. In that speck of time, Blaze landed a savage kick to
Nugget’s nut sac, sending his brain into overdrive as it registered the pain between his legs, and the fact that he had been outwitted by his much smaller opponent.
That’s one to you, Blaze, now you’re a dead boy.
Nugget shook himself off and roared with anger as he ran hard across the floor. Blaze tried to sidestep the deadly giant homing in on him, but was a fraction too slow. Nugget collided with his shoulder, slamming him back against the bars of the cell. Blaze took a blow to the side of his face, and felt the immense force of Nugget’s fist rippling through his cheekbone, flexing it within a micro-metre of shattering point.
Archer and some of the inmates had been a little concerned for Nugget after Blaze dominated the early proceedings, but their tensions eased as Nugget threw a flurry of wild swings at Blaze, connecting two terrific body shots to his stomach, pumping the wind out of him as he gained the ascendancy.
Poochie shouted from his cell. “Pulverize him, Nugget-baby! I don’t like it when my boys thrash around like a fish out of water!”
Nugget arrogantly took his eyes off Blaze to respond, but before he could utter a word, Blaze wrapped his arms around his enormous waistline, delivering another violent blow to his nuts with his right knee.
Nugget dropped to the floor, grabbing at his crotch in agony, leaving his face unprotected as he threw up from the burst of endorphins flooding his body. Blaze capitalised on his momentary defensive lapse, and smashed the side of his face with a perfectly executed jump kick. Nugget’s jaw disintegrated. He cried out from the splintering pain—as if Blaze had flogged the side of his face with a sledgehammer.
Nugget was clearly in trouble. To spice things up, Archer released Bulldog from his cell, and said to him, “It appears that Blaze isn’t all talk after all. But two against one is a mismatch. Get in there and finish him off.”
“With pleasure,” he replied.
Danny noticed Archer’s devious plan, and shouted, “Look out, Blaze! The governor’s sending in Bulldog!”
Blaze didn’t flinch; he kept his eyes pinned on Nugget, taking a moment to gather his breath, while Nugget slowly rose to his feet.
Nugget experienced sharp pains through the left side of his face, but he steadied himself, and out of the corner of his eye, noticed Bulldog waiting outside the cell with Archer. And even though he was drooling blood and had surely lost all use of his manhood for the immediate future, he was furious that Archer had underestimated him. “Keep the mutt out of my fight!” he growled.
Archer knew he meant well, and was trying to leave Blaze’s cell with his dignity still intact. “All right, Nugget,” he answered, “but the next time you hit the deck with anything other than the soles of your shoes, Bulldog is coming in to take your place, even if that means killing you first. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Governor,” he grunted.
Nugget felt a new lease of life, and stormed forward with fire in his eyes, forcing Blaze to retreat into the corner of his cell. Then with only one hand, Nugget grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, picking him up clean off his feet, and without warning, tossed him head first into the steel hand basin, dazing him.
“Ha ha!” roared Nugget. “You’re not so fucking clever now, are you?”
Blaze shook his head, clearing his blurry vision. He was surprised at the amount of energy Nugget had summoned, but he figured it was only a matter of time until his second wind petered out.
Just survive this onslaught and then lay this fucker to rest, he thought.
Nugget came at him again, and let fly a monstrous punch to his face. Blaze dipped his chin just in time for Nugget’s fist to collide with the top of his head, taking him by surprise as his knuckles slammed into his rock-hard skull instead of an easily disposable nasal bone, shooting sharp pains up through his wrist and forearm.
Blaze made a beeline across the floor to the wall of bars that separated his cell from Danny’s, discreetly nodding at him as he approached.
Blaze stood with his back to Danny, and attacked Nugget’s ego by insulting him. “Come on, Nugget baby, I had a harder fight getting into your mummy’s panties last night. You fight like a cock-thirsty bitch!”
Nugget was in more pain than he wanted to admit, but the problem with him being a giant imbecile with limited brain cells, was that he took the bait like a red rag to a bull.
And Blaze was ready for him.
Right on cue, Nugget summoned the last of his energy, and came at Blaze with great velocity, jumping high in the air to land a killer blow to his head. Instead of moving sideways, Blaze dived to the floor and rolled beneath Nugget’s legs while they were suspended in mid-air. Danny saw the priceless expression on Nugget’s face as he realised he had no way of slowing his inertia after Blaze had vanished into thin air. His head crashed into the bars, stunning him, and he slowly slid down to the floor.
Danny threaded his arms through the bars, hoisting him back to his feet, lifting him under his armpits as he said, “No, no, no, Nugget baby, the governor said you’re not to touch the floor with anything other than the soles of your feet, remember?”
He took great delight as he sucker-punched him in the face, right before Blaze rushed up behind him and slammed him into the bars with a crippling shoulder charge.
Blaze caught Nugget before he fell to the floor for the second time, and spun him around so his back was resting against the bars, and fired a flurry of fists at Nugget’s already clobbered nose.
Danny tore the blanket off his bed, revealing the sheet he had tightly rolled up lengthways, forming a makeshift rope exactly as Blaze had instructed. Blaze kept Nugget’s attention by landing multiple blows to his broad, solid chest, keeping him alert and within Danny’s reach.
“Hold him!” shouted Danny.
Blaze leaned all his body weight against Nugget, pinning him upright while Danny hastily threaded the sheet through the bars and looped it around his neck.
Danny remembered the vicious raping he’d received from Nugget the first night he’d arrived in the den, and coldly whispered into his ear, “It’s my turn to fuck you dry, bitch.”
Nugget’s eyes flashed wide open with terror as Danny pulled on the two ends of the sheet with every ounce of strength he could muster. He thrashed about as Danny strained, desperately draining every last remaining breath from Nugget’s rapidly fading body.
It was the moment Blaze had been waiting for ever since he had heard Nugget’s voice earlier this morning. He watched him writhing for breath, savouring Nugget’s purplish blue face that looked as if it were on the verge of exploding.
Then something happened that stunned everyone in the den, including Archer. The beast who lived deep within Blaze’s soul unleashed himself upon his hapless victim. He punched him in the face, again and again, over and over and over until the skin on Nugget’s face was beaten to an unrecognisable fleshy pulp while Danny strangled him without mercy.
Blaze finally relented from the sickening blows, hunching over with his hands resting on his knees while panting for air. He examined his swollen, bloody knuckles, and as he did so, a satisfied grin slowly formed across his face. “Let him go,” he ordered Danny. “I want the satisfaction of taking his life.”
Danny released the noose and kicked Nugget forward. His gruesome face smeared blood and bone on the concrete as it hit the floor. Blaze crouched and heaved his heavy body up into a sitting position. Then, to everyone’s astonishment, Nugget ever so faintly mumbled, “Please,” through bubbles of blood that seeped from his mouth.
“I’m the boss now,” Blaze whispered in his ear, before he locked his head between his hands, and sharply twisted it well beyond the boundaries of natural capability. The sickening sound of cracking bones and bursting tendons were followed by the thud of Nugget’s lifeless body dropping to the floor after Blaze released his mutilated head.
There was an eerie silence as the reality of what just happened registered throughout the den. No one could believe how easily Blaze had destroyed his much
larger opponent, albeit with a bit of help from Danny.
Blaze walked over to him. “Thanks, man, I owe you one,” he said.
Danny looked at him with great admiration. “You owe me your story, man. After what we all just witnessed, I have got to know what makes you tick; that was some crazy wicked shit!”
Blaze eyeballed Bulldog as he said, “It’ll only get worse for the next fucker that sets foot in my cell. Nugget got off lightly.”
Bulldog pretended he hadn’t heard him.
Blaze walked over to the door of his cell, and announced to the rest of the inmates, “One worthless piece of shit down. Who’s next?”
The Wolves’ Den remained silent.
Chapter 14
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Open the bloody door before I kick it in, Jonesy!” shouted O’Brian, skinning his knuckles as he thumped on his front door. He was still wild with rage, even after revving his car to the limit and driving recklessly on his way over from the station.
“I’m coming!” Jones whined.
Jones had been in a fluster ever since O’Brian bit his head off and hung up on him, and didn’t feel comfortable about letting the angry officer into his house. But as he still hadn’t been given the opportunity to tell him exactly what was going on, he thought it best to throw caution to the wind.
He checked the security chain was fastened and gingerly opened the door until it was at full stretch. The narrow opening was immediately filled with the seething face of O’Brian. “You had better have one hell of a good reason to ring me up while I’m on duty and call me a faggot!” he fumed.
Jones was relieved the angry officer had not yet made good on his threat to kick the door in. “I’m sorry for what I said, Karl. Please accept my apology for the use of such derogatory language. I must admit I am extremely old fashioned, like many of my friends and relatives in the community, and I’m a devout follower of Christ. I obey his word, and it is crystal-clear how God views the subject of such matters.” He paused, then said, “I still stand by what I said on the phone, but you have my sincerest apologies for the term I used to describe your—er...”
