Hunters: A Trilogy

by Paul A. Rice

  Ken looked across and yawned again. ‘Yeah, why not?’ he said. ‘But take it easy in the truck, okay?’

  Red laughed and then casually walked over to put his catch in the rear of the truck. He was quite familiar with how to use the vehicle; Mike had let him drive it all over the place. He eased his bulk through the driver’s door and pressed the starter. The engine came to life in its usual fuss-free manner; it was the only part of the Spear that was still holding its own these days, the rest of it having seemingly reverted to being just a normal old pickup. Red waved and with only the squeaking of some tired suspension, and a handful of dead fish for company, he trundled away towards the farm. Just like Mike, he didn’t come back.

  It was Tori who came for them. About thirty minutes later, and with a face like marble, pure-white marble, she slid the truck to a halt next to the couple who were wandering along the track back to the farm.

  ‘Hi Tori, we didn’t expect to see you on your own, are those two messing about in the barn again?’ Jane said as she walked over. The floods of tears flowing down Tori’s face stopped her dead. Hurrying towards the truck, Jane asked: ‘Tori, what’s the matter, baby – Tori?’ Seeing the awful expression upon the young woman’s face, she turned to her husband, urgently calling his name.

  Ken ran over and just caught the young woman in his arms as she stumbled from the truck. Tori pushed past him and tried to be sick onto the grass. Her dry retches were in vain, with a deep, sobbing intake of breath, she turned and tried to speak.

  ‘Mike, he’s… I mean, Red has… it’s so terrible, there’s blood everywhere. Mike helped me, but he came back and attacked me. Red… they’ve had a big fight, there’s blood everywhere, lots of blood, Ohhh!’ She almost howled with anguish.

  Jane looked at her and then noticed the shoes on Tori’s feet were spattered with blood, in fact, when Jane looked more closely, she noticed that Tori’s bare legs were speckled with the stuff. The collar of her dress was ripped and there was a horrible, purple bruise starting to flower on her neck.

  ‘Get in!’ Ken’s face had also gone white, but not with fear or anguish. This was the white of a pure, unadulterated, seething fury. He slammed the door closed and waited impatiently until the women had run around and climbed into the passenger side. As their door was still closing, he floored the accelerator and cursed. ‘Fuck!’

  The journey back to the farm seemed to take an inordinately long time, once again, Ken had the feeling of being paused somehow – he felt like smashing the steering wheel in an attempt to speed things up. He restrained himself as he had caught a glimpse of the girls, they were both deathly pale and Tori was still making noises like a small animal caught in a trap.

  She was also whispering to herself. ‘I never knew this was going to happen, I never knew this was going to happen…’ She repeated the phrase over and over again.

  Jane reached across and held her hand tightly. Tori looked up and simply burst into tears again. Her sobbing was one of the most awful sounds that Ken had ever heard. They were wretched, tearing cries that came deep from within her body. Tori sounded as though she was about to scream.

  Ken hoped she didn’t as he himself wasn’t too far away from screaming.

  His thoughts were going haywire… ‘After all this time, the bastard has still reverted to his normal self! All this time trying to change things, fuck all ever changes, does it? I should bloody know that!’ He gripped the wheel so tightly that he felt something give within its structure. It made a little cracking noise. Ken promised himself: ‘If anything has happened to Mike, then I’m gonna kill that kid, future or no fucking future!’ He reached down into the door pocket and felt for the Beretta, the familiar touch of the weapon helped calm his racing thoughts.

  They pulled up to the back gate, Tori had obviously left it open in her haste to come and find them, it had swung back and was sitting half-closed again. Ken used the nose of the truck and pushed it out of the way, before driving up to the house. The fresh gravel crunched like dried bones beneath the tyres as they rolled to a stop next to the porch. It seemed to take forever, mainly because their horrified eyes were transfixed by the carnage that lay scattered before them.

  The flower pots were all smashed or upturned, part of the wooden banister rail was snapped clean off, and the large kitchen window was shattered. Jagged shards of glass hung like teeth from its frame. There were bloodied smears and handprints littered across the white paint, several long scarlet drips of the stuff were smeared across the bright yellow kitchen door. Their disbelieving eyes fell upon the two men who lay on the blood-covered floor of the veranda.

  Red sat upon the wooden floor with his shoulders against the back door, head resting against its freshly-painted frame. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily. He was covered in blood, it ran down from his head and Ken saw a vicious wound just above his right eye. Mike was lying against him and Red was holding him tightly under the arms with his own hands linked. Mike’s head rested against Red’s stomach, arms flung wide under Red’s trunk-like thighs. Red’s knuckles shone tightly with the pressure he was exerting. Mike never moved – he was soaked in blood from the neck down.

  Turning his gaze away from the horrific sight of his injured friend, Ken took a long hard stare at Red. Feeling Ken’s gaze burning into him, the giant raised his head and grimaced. Ken, seeing a thick rivulet of fresh blood trickle down the giant’s face, smiled grimly, vicious thoughts pushing to the front of his mind.

  ‘At least Mike’s made sure that the prick doesn’t walk away without a memento!’ He stepped out of the truck, cocked the Beretta and walked casually over to where the men lay. Ken looked at them and then climbed the first few steps, stopping short of the veranda floor. He raised the pistol, hissing words filled with total menace. ‘Oi, you… fuck-face, this time you aren’t getting a second chance, Red!’ He thumbed the safety catch to ‘fire’ and adopted a two-handed, shooting stance.

  Ken was capable of putting a whole magazine of 9mm rounds into a target the size of a man’s palm at a range of fifty yards. Red’s head was a much larger, melon-sized target, one that lay less than twenty feet away.

  ‘This is a no-brainer, Red,’ he snarled. ‘And in about two seconds you ain’t gonna have no brains to worry about!’ Ken grinned at his own poetic words and raised the weapon into the aim.

  Red opened his eyes and looked first at Ken and then down at his own chest, as he opened his mouth to speak a flush of blood and air-bubbles escaped to run down over his chin. ‘I couldn’t stop him,’ he gasped. ‘It was too late, he stabbed me… he’s too strong!’ He gurgled, looked down at his chest, then flopped back against the door and smiled. The gaps between his teeth were filled with blood.

  Ken didn’t fall for any distractions this time around. ‘Good! I hope it hurts!’ he growled. ‘Have you killed him, you prick? In fact, I know you have; I can see it, you arsehole! I killed you before and I’m gonna kill you again – say goodbye, you big fuck, bye-bye Red!’ Ken felt the rush of white heat flood his eyes, its arrival washed away all sense of anything.

  It was time for Red to die a second time around, end of story.

  He took up the trigger-pressure and aimed between the red bastard’s eyes.

  30

  Hidden Relations

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Tori screamed, crashing into the back of Ken’s legs. Ken pulled the trigger, the noise of his shot cracking loudly in the heavy atmosphere. The bullet drilled harmlessly into the door frame about ten inches above his target’s bloodied head. Ken stumbled backwards off the steps, very nearly falling onto his backside. Quickly regaining his balance, he swung around and pointed the pistol at Tori – upon seeing the awful expression on his face, the young woman stepped back in horror. Ken stood with his lips drawn back, gritted teeth flanked by bulging cheek muscles, there was a terrible light flashing in the depths of his blazing green eyes.

  He barked at her: ‘Do that again and I’ll shoot
you first, you have no idea! This whole thing goes back a long way – I owe this shit-head from a long ways back, it looks like he’s killed Mike, for Christ’s sake!’

  ‘Ken, please just stop! Just stop and listen, will you?’ Jane said, her voice calmly cutting through the terrifying atmosphere.

  Ken snapped back: ‘Jane, he’s messed Mike up, we aren’t gonna win this one, it’s all been bollocks. Mike’s bloody dead, by the looks of things!’ He looked at her helplessly.

  Tori stood calmly and stared at him with those deep brown eyes.

  Ken felt the anger go back into its cave. ‘Okay, fine, I’ll listen…’ he said, ‘but I’m still gonna kill him!’ He stepped back and motioned with his head towards the veranda. ‘Go ahead, help yourselves…’ he growled, angrily.

  Tori moved towards him, saying: ‘First we need to sort out Mike and Red. They’re in a mess! Now, come on – help me!’ The girl seemed to grow about six inches, all of her distraught anguish having departed somewhere between getting out of the truck and barging into his shoulder, she looked older somehow. Tori had changed. She brushed past Ken, whispering: ‘And put that damned gun down, will you, Kenneth? It’s not needed here!’

  He turned and looked at Jane in disbelief. She had no time for explanations and ran to join Tori, who had knelt down next to Red.

  ‘Ken, come on, get over here!’ Jane’s voice spurred him into action.

  Ken placed the pistol on the bonnet of the truck and bounded up the wooden stairs. The men were in a very bad way indeed, Ken wasn’t sure if Mike was dead or not, but knew by the amount of blood his friend was covered in, that he soon would be. He ordered the girls to attend to Red, and after lifting the giant’s arms out of the way, Ken slid Mike out from the young man’s grasp.

  Laying him flat, Ken ripped open Mike’s shirt and looked at his wounds. He was horrified by the diamond-shaped puncture marks perforating his friend’s chest and stomach. They had seeped blood all over his torso, Mike was dripping in it. There was one particular hole under his left armpit, Ken knew the amount of blood that had escaped through its gaping mouth meant only one thing – the wound was almost certainly fatal. There looked to be gallons of blood under his friend, it had pooled all over the veranda and was still dripping through the gaps in the wooden floor.

  Ken stopped looking at the other wounds and tried to see if Mike had a pulse in his neck. It was there, but only just, fluttering gently like a moth against the inside of a kitchen window, exhausted after a night of trying to escape, beating itself to death as you stand and watch with your first cup of tea in hand. Ken knew that Mike’s heart was also beating itself to death and there wasn’t a damned thing he was able to do about it. He felt for a pulse in Mike’s wrists and didn’t find one, all of the wounds had stopped bleeding and there was no longer any sign of arterial pumping. Mike’s blood pressure was irretrievably low.

  A cold feeling washed over Ken, it was the soft caress of inevitability and he recognised her bitter-sweet touch. He had felt the same thing a long time ago, in the market, and many other places since that awful day. It was his self-protection system. The sensation, the recognition of reality, helped him to deal with these things. Without its intervention they most certainly would have been unbearable. His mind found solace in the thought that Mike would probably be in no pain. Ken rested upon the black staff of certainty, safe in the knowledge there was nothing more he would be able to do.

  He leaned forward and brushed the jet-black hair from his friend’s face, using his thumb to wipe a streak of blood from under Mike’s right eye. It reminded him of the one he had seen on Red’s face in George’s little film clip. He sat down on the floor next to Mike and extended his left leg behind the Australian’s shoulders. Gently lifting Mike’s head, Ken slid his leg sideways and lowered it so that Mike’s head rested on the soft part of his own thigh.

  He turned towards the others; Red was sitting up and coughing badly, blood still spattered from his lips. ‘Definite punctured lung – good!’ It was the only thing Ken was able to think of. He looked up to see if the pistol was where he had left it. The gun was still on the bonnet and lay well out of Red’s reach.

  Ken turned back to the girls. ‘Mike’s going now, it’s over,’ he whispered. ‘You’d best come and say goodbye.’ He couldn’t stop himself from choking on the words. Breathing deeply, Ken rested his hand on Mike’s forehead.

  Hearing his words, Jane spun around and looked at him in horror. She crawled over on all fours and knelt next to Mike’s head, crooning: ‘Ahhh, Mikey, sweetheart please don’t go, Mikey!’ Ken grabbed her wrist and shook his head. She looked at him in deep sorrow and he saw her fight back the tears. Hearing a noise behind him, he spun his head to see what Red was doing.

  The boy was crawling over towards them; Tori had her hand under his armpit, trying to help him get to Mike. To Ken’s utter amazement, he saw the handle of a large knife sticking out of Red’s side. It seemed to be embedded in his rib cage, and yet he was still alive, still alive and moving! Ken shot another helpless glance to where his pistol lay, but he needn’t have bothered.

  As he looked back to Red, he saw the man begin to cry, a dam of tears that had been filled by years of loneliness and abuse, topped up regularly with enforced guilt and misery, finally burst its wall. A veritable stream of tears flowed down his blood-covered face.

  He sobbed: ‘M… M… Mikeeeyy, awww Mikey! My Mikey, I’m so sorry I cudn’t help you, Mikey. I’m sorry Mikey. I’m so sorry… Momma… Momma, Momma!’ He threw his head back and screamed. The blood-filled spittle flew from his lips and sprayed onto the underside of the roof above them. Red thumped down next to the dying man, placing his large, bloodied hands onto Mike’s chest. Through disbelieving eyes, Ken saw him trying to will some life back into Mike’s fading energy.

  Then the situation really did go crazy.

  Tori did something they would all remember forever.

  She walked around the other side of Mike’s prostrate figure and knelt next to him. Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward to speak. Quite calmly, she said, ‘Michael, listen to me, it’s Tori, open your eyes this instant, please!’

  Ken thought that maybe she wasn’t quite getting this and was just about to say as much, when Tori’s brown eyes changed colour. Ken felt Jane stiffen beside him. Their thoughts, their words, even the very breath within their lungs, froze as they looked at the beautiful girl in disbelief. Tori’s eyes had turned violet blue. They seemed to swirl momentarily, before turning a brilliant, much lighter, cobalt blue. It was the colour of the oceans when seen from space, the same hue as the tips of lightning – the clearest blue Ken had ever seen. Hearing Jane gasp next to him, he guessed that she shared in the thought.

  Tori spoke to Mike again. ‘Michael…’ she said, placing her hand over his mouth and blowing a stream of breath at his face. Mike’s eyelids fluttered. Tori said, ‘Michael, it’s your sister, now open your eyes and say goodbye properly, please – Michael!’

  Mike opened his eyes and smiled weakly. He licked his lips and then whispered, so softly it was almost impossible to hear his voice, almost impossible, but not quite. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I was dreaming…sorry, Sis.’ He coughed a painful expulsion of blood and air. He turned to Ken and Jane, they saw the light flicker in his eyes, the brilliant blue colour flared briefly and then faded. It looked like a candle sputtering in the draft.

  He smiled, saying: ‘Sorry, guys, this is a long story but everything is good now, don’t worry about me too much, okay…I just have to go somewhere else, that’s all it is. Don’t worry – I’ll be here forever, I love you.’ Mike reached out and laid his fingers across the back of Ken’s hand. He smiled once more and looked up at them.

  Ken let the tears run down his own face. Taking a shuddering breath, he said, ‘It’s alright Mike, if you need to go then that’s okay, we’re fine, I’m just gonna miss you, man!’ He swallowed hard, barely holding back a sob

  Then, without waiting for any
more goodbyes, Mike died whilst looking right into their eyes. No big drama, no sudden jerking or terrible death rattles, like you would see in the movies. No, his death was far less spectacular. One minute he was there, and then, without changing the expression on his face, he had gone.

  Mike’s candle blew out.

  It was twice in his life that Ken had seen Mike die, and it didn’t get any easier the second time around. In fact, it was so unbelievable that he had to look more closely. Leaning across, he peered into his friend’s eyes, whispering: ‘Mike?’ Seeing all he needed, Ken sat back and cursed. ‘Shit!’ Jane gripped his hand tightly. Together they sat with Mike’s hand in theirs and let the emotions flow from their eyes.

  Red didn’t see it when Mike went as he was lying with his head on Mike’s chest. He didn’t need to see it – Red heard Mike go. He sobbed deeply as he lay there cuddling Mike to his own injured chest.

  Ken still felt like shooting him.

  He would continue to feel that way until Tori put him right.

  She looked at him, saying: ‘Red didn’t do this, there’s no time to explain right now, but you need to trust me!’ Her eyes blazed. ‘Maggie will be here in a minute with the ambulance. Now, come on and help me with Red!’

  It wasn’t a request and both Ken and Jane obeyed immediately. They helped Red away from Mike, and whilst Jane and Tori tried to console him, Ken examined the big man’s injuries – they were substantial. Very much like Mike, Red had several knife wounds across his body and on his hands and arms. It appeared as though the weapon that had caused such damage was now firmly lodged in his side. By the looks of things, Red definitely had a punctured lung; his breath was rattling and he was doubled up in pain. Jane ran inside and fetched a bowl of clean water and some cloths.

  After washing the blood from his face and chest, Ken was fairly glad to see that most of the cuts weren’t too deep. Obviously, the one with the knife still embedded was far from good news, but the rest didn’t seem to be life-threatening. Ken laid Red on his side and told him to keep the injury facing downwards. Red did as he was asked and lay there in silence. Tori sat next to him and held his hand.