by Mark West
"There's some puke." He only barely heard Jay over the porcine din.
"Sorry," said Nat.
"Don't worry. I'm going to try the door."
"But he'll see us."
"Not if we stop him."
"How?"
David bit his lip. "I don't know."
Nat looked around and then leaned past him. She grabbed something, then pushed herself back into a squat in front of him. She was cradling a battered garden gnome, who had a tag saying 'Hi, I'm Eric' around his neck. "As he runs by, whack his legs with this and he'll go down for a bit."
"Do you want me to do it?"
Nat hugged the gnome. "No, let me deal with him."
"Okay." David leaned against the door until it stopped moving, then looked up. The handle was about a foot above him, easily reachable. He looked at Nat, who smiled grimly at him and gave her the thumbs up. "Here goes nothing," he said to himself.
The pigs had settled down slightly, enough that David could hear Jay cursing and moaning and apparently stopping every few paces to be sick.
"How close?" Nat mouthed and David shrugged.
"Jay!" yelled Mal and the pigs launched into a fresh round of squeals, "hurry up."
"Yeah, yeah," he called and the pace of his footsteps increased.
Nat moved the gnome around in her lap until she was gripping it by the head and shoulders. The only hint of colour on her face was over her cheekbones. She licked her lips and shifted her position, so that she was kneeling with her back to David.
The footsteps got closer until David thought Jay couldn't be more than five or six yards away. He was about to lean forward, to say so to Nat, when she stood up, screamed and swung the gnome.
David stood up and caught a glimpse of Mal at the doorway. He looked at Nat. She was leaning back and the gnome seemed to be moving very slowly. Jay had seen it and was leaning back, as if trying to throw himself to one side. He got his left arm up to his face, to shield himself.
The weight of the gnome angled its swing up slightly. David saw that Nat had her eyes closed.
The gnome hit Jay's right temple with a sickening crunch and momentum pushed the gnome on, Jay's forehead collapsing under the pressure.
Jay went backwards, his eyes fluttering and he landed in a heap against a pen door.
The weight of the gnome carried Nat around, until she was facing David. She dropped it, put her hands on her knees, tried to regain her breath.
David leaned over the board. Jay's legs were bent under him, one arm splayed against the pen wall, the other across his chest. His forehead and right temple had sunk, the skin looking like a deflated sail. Blood ran out of the corner of his mouth and small bits of chaff settled on his cheeks and open eyes. David looked away, swallowing back bile.
Mal roared and started to run towards them.
David grabbed Nat's hand and pulled her towards the door. He turned his shoulder in at the last moment and hoped for the best.
The impact jarred him but the wood gave around the lock in a shower of splinters and then he was staggering on grass, trying to keep to his feet. He let go of Nat and went down, skidding along on his knees until he was facing the gateway. Clarkey was standing by the ruts, his mouth open, looking back towards the Audi. He turned slowly and saw David and Nat.
"Let's go," David said. He held Nat's hand firmly and they ran towards the gate.
Clarkey looked panicked, but as David cleared the end of the barn, he started towards them. David let go of Nat's hand and she stumbled, crying out as she fell heavily.
"Come on then, motherfucker," screamed Clarkey, his veins standing out on his neck and at his temples, his arms rigid at his sides, his fists tight.
As he ran, David could feel the fear seizing his limbs. Jay was obviously dead, which meant that these two thugs now had a genuine reason to hurt them. Clarkey didn't look as if he was ready to take any prisoners and David had no idea how to fight the man or keep him down, except that if he didn't, he and Nat would be in serious trouble.
Clarkey held his arms out, as if waiting for a hug, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Come on then," he hissed, spittle creating a fine spray in front of his face.
David kept moving, trying to figure out where best to hit the man to keep him down.
"David!" he heard Nat yell but he didn't turn around.
He was close enough that Clarkey swung for him. David saw it coming and ducked down, the man's fist brushing the top of his head and, although it was only a glancing blow, it hurt like hell and made him grunt with pain.
Clarkey had over-reached and David swung at him with all of his weight, aiming for the thugs jaw but missing. His fist landed just above Clarkey's left ear and the man yelled out, dropping to his knees.
It felt like all of David's knuckles had exploded and he gripped his hand, fighting back the urge to vomit. Clarkey rolled over, clutching his ear, yelling in pain.
David felt his energy drain and bent forward, trying to breathe deeply and stave off his nausea. He checked his hand. The knuckle of his second finger had dislocated onto the back of his hand.
"Oh, fuck," he said and threw up. Finished, he sat down heavily and closed his eyes.
"David!"
Nat was yelling at him, but he couldn't work out why. He couldn't seem to think of much, as if there was a fog floating through his head that deadened all sensation.
His head lolled forward and he opened his eyes. Clarkey was getting to his feet, rubbing his ear frantically.
"You're fucking dead," he said.
David, through the fog, knew this wasn't good. He got to his feet and started to back away.
"David! Don't leave me."
That was Nat again, he was sure of it, though he couldn't see her. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He knew something was wrong, that the man in front of him was serious about hurting him but unless he concentrated, he wasn't going to be able to do anything.
He shook his head again and stepped onto one of the cattle grid bars, holding his arms out for balance.
"Clarkey, get him back."
Clarkey rubbed his nose, licked some blood off his lips and started to run.
David backed further, feeling for each new bar on the grid with his heel, still shaking his head. Briefly, the fog lifted and everything came back - he saw Nat on the floor with someone sitting on top of her, he felt the pain in his hand, he saw the man coming towards him with murder in his eyes.
Clarkey reached the bars but didn't look at them, his gaze locked on David. His leading foot slid on the metal and, falling, he put his arms out to break his fall. His right hand slid under the third bar, past his wrist. His momentum carried him forward and he seemed to almost do a somersault before he landed with a heavy thud that vibrated through David's feet.
There was a loud, brittle snap. Clarkey screamed like David had never heard anyone scream before and that lifted the fog.
Clarkey was laying at an odd angle, his arm seemingly folded in on itself to his side. Carefully, David made his way towards him, trying to shut out the piercing screams. As he got closer, he could see the clean white glow of Clarkey's radius bone, jutting out of his skin. The man's right hand was wrapped impossibly around the bar.
"Clarkey!" yelled Mal, "what's going on?"
David walked around Clarkey, off the cattle grid and heard something crackling to his left. He looked over at the Audi, lodged in the nettles and noticed a faint glow from underneath the car. Idly, David wondered if the catalytic converter was resting on a particularly dry patch of the weeds.
David kept walking towards Nat and Mal, not sure of what he was going to do, but determined that he wouldn't stop until he and Nat got away.
"What've you done to him?" Mal screamed, his voice breaking halfway through, so that he descended into a spasm of coughing.
Nat pulled her right arm free of Mal's leg and jabbed at his chin. The blow caught him off balance and he rocked to the side. She reached up again and clawed her
hand down his face and David saw the streaks of blood appear on his forehead and cheek almost instantly.
Mal swatted her in the face as he fell and she rolled to her side, clutching her cheeks. Mal got up slowly, touching his face gently and kicked Nat in the back, making her cry out and rocking her body. She rolled onto her front and was still.
David ran at Mal, without thinking.
Mal stood up, holding his jaw, the cuts on his face bleeding freely. He tried to brace himself, but David hit him in the upper chest with his left shoulder and both men went down. David rolled and tried to get onto Mal, but wasn't quick enough. Mal punched out, catching David's left cheek, the blossom of pain quickly spreading across the whole of the side of his face. Disorientated, he rolled onto his back and Mal sat on his chest.
"Got you," sneered Mal. Drool ran out of his mouth onto David's burning cheek.
David couldn't get enough breath - between the exertion, the pain and Mal, his lungs just didn't want to fill. "Do it then, just do it."
Mal smiled and backhanded some blood off his chin and up his cheek. He reached into his pocket for the Stanley knife.
"This had been a fun night before you killed them." Droplets of blood pattered against David's cheek.
"Clarkey's not dead."
"He will be," Mal said and grabbed a handful of hair at David's hairline, fresh pain flaring up to thud against his forehead like a hammer. His head was pulled off the ground and Mal dug the knife blade into David's skin.
David screamed, flowers of white light bursting across his range of vision. He tried to buck Mal off, but the man braced himself with his knees.
There was a loud bang from behind him and Mal turned around.
His attention distracted, David jerked his body and managed to unseat him. Mal pushed out his arms to steady himself. Freed, the Stanley Knife slapped against David's forehead and he felt the fog come back. Trying to fight it, he shook his head and the blade slipped out of his scalp and down past his ear. Bile rose in his throat and he turned his head, spitting it onto his shoulder.
Mal leaned forward, sliding his hand through the bile searching for the knife. The fog was closing David down and all he could do was roll onto his side.
He could still hear though, his heartbeat pounding in his ears and the crackling from the car. He slowly opened his eyes and saw that the nettles under the engine were on fire now, the flames licking up into the wheel wells.
Thank God, he thought, someone's bound to see that.
He felt, rather than saw, someone stand over him and looked up. Mal glared at him, blood and saliva running off his face, his eyes filled with hate. He looked as if he'd gone insane.
"You're dead and the bitch is next."
There was an explosion that made Mal a silhouette, burning the shape to David's retinas. Mal turned and David summoned the last of his energy and kicked into Mal's groin as hard as he could. Mal doubled over, his breath whooshing out of him and he crumpled, dropping the knife, cupping his wounded testicles. He fell to his knees, his head on the ground and David realised someone else was coming at them.
For an awful moment, David thought it was Jay until the figure raised a hand and he saw their weapon.
Nat jumped onto Mal's back and hit him on top of his head twice with the heel of her shoe. He yelled out and tried to roll, but she went with him, flailing with the shoe, hitting his chin, his cheek, his nose. More blood covered the man's face as he tried to get away.
"Leave him!" David called.
In her fury, Nat didn't hear - or chose not to - and it wasn't until Mal managed to get to his hands and knees and crawl away that she seemed to realise what she was doing. Exhausted, she crawled over to David as Mal collapsed a few feet away.
"Anything broken?" she said, gently touching his face, wincing at the knife wound.
David closed his eyes, the fog dissipating into wisps and the pain rushing in to take its place. "I don't think so. You?"
She laid beside him. "No."
David gritted his teeth against the pain that seemed to come from so many different places he couldn't quite pinpoint it. He wanted to offer Nat some kind of comfort, wanted to tell her it was over, but he couldn't think of any way to say it.
"The car's on fire," she said, presently. "Do you suppose anyone from Gaffney will see it?"
"I don't know," he said, feeling empty.
They were quiet then, listening to the sounds from Clarkey and Mal and the crackling of the car as it burned in the nettle patch.
It must have been five minutes later before David heard the sirens and he reached up and touched Nat's arm. She hugged him back and he heard her start to weep.
Mark West is the author of two novels, a collection, several novellas, a novelette and has published over seventy short stories. He lives in Northamptonshire with his wife and son, enjoys reading, watching films and cycling and he's also a dead-shot with a Nerf Gun. You can contact him via his website - www.markwest.org.uk - which is as much about book reviews, film articles and life in general as it is about his writing and he's also on Twitter at @MarkEWest
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