Plagued

by Barnett, Nicola

  One particular night, after a long day out with his friends, Nick came home to hear his mother, Kate, screaming at her husband. That in itself wasn’t unusual, but it was the words that she said that resonated with Nick for years to come. He’d never heard her use the words “whore” or “pervert” before that day and it wasn’t until he reached fifteen that he learned what those words actually meant. So—knowing the old routine of shouting, silence and then his mother bursting into a fit of tears—he went to bed with his earphones in, thinking about the day he could just jump on his new trials bike and ride away from them both.

  He woke up the next morning at 10AM and went downstairs for breakfast. It was Sunday so he had a hard day of biking planned. The house was unusually silent; normally there’d be at least one of his parents walking around the house at that time. He looked at the clock—his mother should be starting to cook their Sunday dinner soon, a hungry excitement filled his stomach. He walked into to the kitchen expectantly to find his mother sitting at the dining table with a note in her hands, gripping it so tightly her knuckles were white. Her eye make-up had run down her face, leaving a black trail down to her chin. Her eyes were red raw.

  “What’s wrong, mum?”

  She gave him the note silently and lowered her head onto the table, sobbing into her hands. Nick opened the note; it was from his father. It explained that he had fallen in love with a woman he met at his local pub, and had been seeing her for a while. He said that he had tried to make it work but couldn’t put up with his wife’s constant moodiness and lack of trying in bed. He was leaving his wife and had taken every penny of their savings to start a new life with his new partner, who apparently appreciated him more than his wife. There was no remorse in the note, nor was there mention of Nick, his only son.

  Nick’s life was shattered. The man he trusted as his father had abandoned him. Hate began to fill young Nick’s mind and it grew with every day that passed. His mother got more and more depressed as the days went on, until finally she made a sloppy attempt at suicide. In the next few weeks she would try again two more times and Nick began to realise that no one cared about him at all. He had lost his mother to her grief and she had tried to leave him all alone, leave him like his father had. There was one person to blame, one person who had destroyed the lives of two—Nick decided it was time to pay him back.

  Not a great deal of planning went behind his father’s murder—in fact he hadn’t planned it at all. The hate in his heart wouldn’t give him time to think, all it wanted was to avenge the death of his happiness and the sanity of his once-beautiful mother.

  Nick simply went out of the house, filled some petrol cans at the station while cheerily talking to the attendant as if it was a regular, sunny day in Winding. He waved goodbye to the clerk and walked off, knowing exactly where he was going. He had heard from many people in town that his father spent most of his new life in the pub, watching his whore work behind the bar, forgetting the family he had once had. So that’s where Nick decided he would have the best chance of finding him.

  Sure enough, there he was! Laughing and joking with a blonde haired woman in a mini skirt. She wore cheap, plastic red hoops in her ears and her lips were the bright pink of a cheap hooker. Nick stared in disbelief through the window. He had broken up a family, ignored his only son and left his wife at the bottom of a bottle and suicidal—yet there he was, oblivious to it! The cheek of it! The betrayal! Nick thanked God for his good luck and timing, and watched them for a while as they laughed together, talking to their friends as his bitch served them drinks. They looked happy. They looked drunk.

  He knelt in the bushes until darkness came and the last person left, leaving only his father and his pet whore. They sat at the bar drinking shots and singing along to the music on the radio. His father had his hand on her thigh and it crept up her skirt. Nick felt sick. Anger built up in the pit of his stomach and he decided it was time to do what he came to do.

  He crept out of the bushes with his petrol can and quickly covered the doors and windows in the flammable liquid. He grinned at them menacingly but they didn’t seem to notice him. Good. He went around the back to do the same to the back door. He laughed to himself as he saw the ‘fire exit’ sign hanging next to the door. The pub was very small so it wouldn’t take long to burn and it was full of little wooden trinkets and paintings on the walls that would make great kindling. He took a deep breath and opened the back door.

  The music was blaring loudly and he walked inside, leaving a long trail of petrol behind him. He pulled the door shut and pulled an old filing cabinet and a half-filled barrel of beer against it, trying to block the escape—not that he would need it. He walked through the hallway and looked back at the trail, happy with his work. He lit it with his Zippo and it set alight with a whoosh, watching with amusement as it engulfed the back door and everything around it in seconds.

  He entered the main room where his father sat, the heat of the growing fire warm on his back. His father glanced towards him, his drunken smile slowly leaving his face. He recognized his son only a second before his son launched the liquid from the can towards him, completely dousing him. Surprisingly, his father burst into laughter!

  “What’s that?” George’s mistress asked, too drunk to notice the lighter in the boy’s hand.

  “What are you doing, son?” his father said, a stupid, confused smile on his face.

  “I didn’t know you had a son!” the whore laughed, wobbling on her feet.

  His father didn’t mention him to her, not even once. Anger built inside Nick and he threw the remaining petrol across the bar, watching with pleasure as a bit splashed on the whore. Not a lot, but enough. The woman shrieked and tried to wipe herself dry. Nick confidently walked around them and towards the front doors of the pub, pulling open the doors. Carefully dodging the petrol on the steps, he stepped outside, turning back around to face them with his lighter in hand.

  “Your little cunt just threw water on me!” the whore shrieked to George.

  His father climbed down off his stool, looking down at his wet clothes. He sniffed the liquid that dripped down onto his chest and his eyes grew wide as it finally dawned on him what was going to happen. He shook his head frantically and a low moan escaped his mouth.

  “Catch you later, Daddy,” Nick smirked. Then he lit the Zippo.

  His father went up in seconds and the screams he produced were like nothing Nick had ever heard, even on the horror movies he’d watched with his friends. It was the scream of a man getting his comeuppance. His whore tried frantically to put him out and as she touched him, the petrol on her skin set alight. It was like a cartoon to Nick, who burst into laughter as she screamed in agony. She tried to run to the back door, noticing too late that it was already engulfed in flames.

  Nick laughed quietly as he leaped out of the front door and pushed it closed behind him. For a few seconds, he heard banging and screaming on the other side; its occupants begging him for their lives, but it quickly died down as the building filled with smoke.

  Nick stood outside for a while and watched the building burn. The warmth hit his face and a tear of happiness rolled down his cheek. As the first sound of sirens got louder, he ran into the darkness and back home to his mother.

  ~

  “Hello again, Jack,” Duke said, in a gravelly voice. He shot a cocky, one-sided grin at Jack, revealing black and rotting teeth. He wore an old green vest underneath a heavily worn, black, biker’s jacket. He had on dark green combat trousers and some black Doc Martins that had seen better days. His hair was white—not greying, but pure white—and it was slicked back to his scalp. A piece hung down his face over one of his dark, black eyes.

  “Duke,” Jack replied coolly. “What can I do for you this time?”

  Duke eyed Mark, who stood next to Jack, with cool interest. “You recruiting now?”

  Some of his men sniggered.

  “This is Mark. He arrived last night,” Jack said, poker-faced. />
  “A survivor, huh?” Duke said thoughtfully, turning to Mark. “Wouldn’t have thought anyone was left alive. My boys were out there yesterday afternoon.”

  Yeah I know, Mark thought to himself. “I didn’t see any other survivors,” he said instead. “It’s pretty quiet out there.”

  Duke nodded suspiciously and turned his attention back to Jack.

  “Well I suppose I ought to get down to business, Jacky boy. I’ve given you quite a lot of food today and I’m here for my payment. I know I said I’d give you a few days but some of our ladies went for a little run this afternoon, and I think they met with a few infected because they didn’t come back in the best condition. Now that means I kinda need to restock, as quickly as possible.”

  Jack glanced at Mark and fingered the knife in his jean belt; Mark caught the look and swiftly raised the shotgun.

  “Woah, woah, woah!” Duke said with a laugh as his men raised their weapons, which ranged from machetes to knives and bats. They outnumbered Mark and Jack six to two.

  Only Duke carried a gun; a small pistol which he raised confidently as he spoke. This caused the villagers in the hall to look on helplessly and a woman cried in the background.

  “There doesn’t need to be any violence,” Duke said calmly, pointing the gun in Mark’s face. “We just want what we were promised. You said one blonde girl so we’re gonna take one blonde girl. Don’t worry, we’ll bring her back when she’s served her purpose, I promise.” He put a hand on his chest comically.

  His men laughed nervously, watching Mark and Duke’s showdown intently.

  “You offered them a woman?” Mark growled at Jack, who was stood beside him.

  “I didn’t have much of a choice, we’re fucking starving here,” Jack hissed back.

  Mark looked into Jack’s eyes aggressively, trying to hold back the growing urge to turn the gun on him. Jack’s demeanour faltered and he recoiled a little as if he could read his thoughts. But then Mark turned his rage back to Duke. “You aren’t taking anyone, Duke,” Mark growled, behind the shotgun. “Go home.”

  Duke frowned and then pointed his gun into the crowd in the back of the room. They screamed and panicked. Duke smiled confidently.

  Annie stepped out of the crowd and opened her mouth to speak but Duke hushed her before she had the chance.

  “You again!” Duke said, shaking his head at her. “We let you go once, old lady, so don’t push your luck. Now, here’s what’s going to happen, so none of those lovely people have to get hurt. Me and my boys are taking what we were promised. She’s going to come with us without struggling and then I don’t have to waste my time by coming back and massacring your whole fucking town. Is that clear enough for you, Mark?”

  Mark put his finger on the trigger. “Over my dead body.”

  Duke snarled and his men advanced towards them.

  “Wait!” a woman’s voice yelled across the room.

  Emily came running towards them. “Wait! Please don’t hurt them!” she said, walking up to Duke steadily. “I’m the one you want, I’ll go with you and I won’t struggle.”

  “No!” shouted Sarah, who was running after her.

  “I have to do this, Sarah,” Emily said, shaking violently. “It’s the only way.”

  There was no courage in her friend’s eyes, only pure fear—Sarah saw this and instantly made a decision. “I’ll go with you. I can’t let you go alone.”

  Emily’s eyes filled with tears and a grateful smile appeared on her mouth.

  “No! No fucking way!” Mark shouted at Sarah, “Are you out of your mind?”

  Sarah looked at him, her eyes determined. Her features softened as she felt the intensity of his feelings for her. She forced a smile. Don’t worry, she mouthed.

  “Under one condition,” she turned back to Duke. “You don’t hurt anyone from the village again. We won’t try to leave, we’ll stay with you. Just leave these people in peace.”

  “Sarah, you can’t be serious! They’ll kill you!” Mark growled and grabbed her arm. “Please don’t do this,” he whispered to her.

  “They’ll kill you if we don’t,” she whispered back to him. “And then they’ll kill everyone else.”

  Duke was beaming happily. He looked to Jack and they stared at each other intently for a moment. Emily watched this exchange curiously.

  “Are you going to let your girlfriend do this?!” Mark shouted to Jack, exasperated by his silence.

  Jack looked at the ground sombrely. “She’s right. We don’t have much choice.”

  Mark swung the gun and Jack stepped backwards as the nozzle now aimed straight at his forehead. “You fucking coward! How many times have you done this?”

  “Wait—” Jack said, eyes wide.

  “Mark, stop it!” Sarah said and pulled the nozzle from Jack’s head swiftly. “It’s too late now. We’re doing this.”

  Sarah’s parents shouted from the back of the room, screaming for her to stop. A tear formed in her eyes as she heard their desperate pleas. She turned to them and smiled lovingly. “I’ll see you again soon.”

  Her mother cried in the background and Sarah heard Annie and her father muttering to her. She heard Mark and Jack’s heated conversation and Emily’s whimpering, but Sarah blocked it all out. She had to. A million questions about Jack flooded her head, threatening to burst out and cause her to melt down, but she couldn’t let them. She had to do something to save her family.

  “Well it’s a deal!” Duke said, clapping his hands together happily. “Come, ladies, we’ll look after you.” He spun on his heels dramatically and walked out of the door, laughing to himself.

  Sarah looked at Emily as she was led out by one of Duke’s men. He smacked her on the bottom and she whimpered, looking back nervously.

  Sarah turned to Jack. “I love you,” she said, quietly.

  “I love you too,” he whispered, nearly too quietly for her to hear. He turned away from her then, disappearing to the back of the room.

  Sarah turned to Mark. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered angrily.

  Before Sarah had the chance to answer him, one of Duke’s men grabbed her by the arm and led her out. She pulled back and looked at Mark with an aching gaze that hurt him physically. All he wanted to do was run and get her back. But he didn’t. Her eyes said more than any words ever could; they told him she had no other choice. His urge to help her burned in his chest but he let her go. He made a promise to himself right then; Duke would pay.

  Chapter 14

  The girls never looked out of the window to see where they were being taken but it didn’t matter, Sarah knew where they were headed. The only camp site around Solitude was east of the village and had been abandoned for the most part. Gypsy caravans had moved in there many times in Sarah’s lifetime, before being ushered on to new grounds. After they left, it was mostly used by hunters or people wanting a place to drink. It was a place that Sarah’s parents had told her never to go.

  The girls were sitting in the back of Annie’s Land Rover—which Duke had readily stolen—and were listening to him talk to his friend in the passenger seat. Sarah recognized him as Mitch, the squeaky voiced man from Winding, who had killed that helpless woman in the street.

  “You think they’ll come looking for us?” Emily whispered, her voice sounded like that of a scared child.

  Sarah sighed weakly. “I don’t know. There’s no way for them to get here and they’d be killed on sight. We have their only vehicle.”

  Emily fidgeted restlessly; her mouth opened and closed as if she wanted to say something but changed her mind.

  “What is it?” Sarah asked, noticing her torment.

  “He told us you were dead, you know.”

  “Who did?” Sarah asked, afraid she already knew the answer.

  “Jack,” she sniffed. “He told us he saw you die.”

  Sarah stared at her friend in disbelief as the vehicle pulled in to the grounds through the large, chain-link gate
and quickly halted to a stop, cutting their conversation short. They gripped each other’s hands tightly.

  Duke and Mitch got out and opened the back doors. Emily whined as they dragged the girls out by their hair, causing Mitch to burst into a cruel laughter.

  Eight large caravans were parked forming a large circle around the centre of the site and in the middle was a large fire pit. Canisters of gas leaned against each caravan and next to them stood tons of petrol cans, whether they were filled or not could not be seen. Five women were sweeping rubbish into piles in the dirt, watched closely by a group of men who laughed and high-fived each other as they threw cans at the women’s feet. They rushed to clean up the new mess every time that happened; their muddy faces streaked with tear stains. Their clothes were torn and dirty and they had sore-looking grazes on their knees and elbows. Sarah groaned quietly at the sight.