The Brutality Pack: An extreme horror collection

by Ian Woodhead

  She heard the old bag’s chair creak one more time and tensed up, waiting for the inevitable blast of verbal abuse. Jackie pressed her fingernail hard against her palms when she saw that Betsy was just reaching for her knitting. She had soon learned early on that it was best not to give them any unwarranted trouble. Most of the time her tactic worked, and they usually left her alone.

  Her brother had done the opposite; he had fought them all the way. James had refused to bow down to any of their screams and threats. He had just ignored Betsy’s manic screams, and when the old bitch had slapped him or hit him with her favourite bat, he had just laughed back at her and spat his blood at the old woman. His defiance and the fact that he’d never stopped looking for way to escape was the reason they had locked him in the cellar.

  It had been weeks since she had last seen him. The only clue to if he was even still alive was that every so often she’d catch one of them leaving the door open to the kitchen, and Jackie would hear them putting something on a plate before descending into the cellar.

  Not that their actions meant anything; the old fuckers were both as mad as a box of frogs. As far as she knew, her brother could have died weeks ago, and they were just going down there to feed the rats. The image of a dozen rats feeding on her brother’s corpse jumped into her mind.

  She could feel her hot tears beginning to make yet another unwelcome appearance. What was wrong with her today? Where did all this extra emotion come from? Good God, could she not stop her imagination from getting out of control for just a few minutes? Jackie needed a distraction. She turned away from the back of the chair and gazed at the threadbare carpet beside her chained up ankles. There would be no crying today. It was obvious that Betsy was in one of her moods. If that bitch’s ear caught so much as a whimper escaping from Jackie’s mouth she would be on her like a ton of bricks. If there was one thing to guarantee a good beating when Betsy was like this, Jackie sobbing like a baby was right at the top of that list.

  She waited for her volatile emotions to calm down a little. The old bags were now engrossed in their stupid programme, and she decided that it was safe to continue. She slowly pushed back the carpet, revealing a portion of floorboard. Jackie shuffled forwards whilst holding the chain in both hands. Her movement made the minimum of noise. Jackie picked out the broken needle from between the crack in the floorboards and added one more mark next to the other scratches. She didn’t think that she had lost a single day although it was difficult to tell as all the calendars hung on the walls showed different months. They changed the dates on the calendars every morning. Jackie had no idea why, it was just another one of their strange traits.

  The auction for those two framed prints was about to close. Jackie dropped the needle back into her hiding place and lifted her foot, watching the carpet roll back. She needed to be as quiet as a sleeping mouse for the next few moments. The old bags were about to start up their daily argument.

  Ada would accuse Betsy of having mothballs in her green purse or being frugal with their weekly allowance, and calling her wicked and uncaring because the woman hadn’t purchased those framed prints.

  According to her scratching in the wood, these two fucking nutjobs had argued over these prints fifty-four times now. Her tears were springing up again, and this time she didn’t think she’d be able to hold them in. Jackie wanted them both to just fucking die so she could be able to escape from these two vile witches and their crazy habits. Their constant bickering was sending her insane, but it wasn’t half as bad as their collection of ancient videotapes that the bitches played one after another. It was always in the same sequence day in, day out. They had just enough for one day’s viewing.

  She leaned to the left and looked through the narrow gap between the bitches’ chairs. Jackie glared at the untidy heap of tapes stacked up against the side of their old television. The tape on the top showed Julie Andrews skipping through a bunch of fields. It took an incredible amount of self-control not to try to pull out her chains and strangle the old bastards before they had chance to push that video into their machine.

  Ada would clap and laugh, gushing at the sight of the von Trapp kids as they first came down the stairs and saying that Julie Andrews was so beautiful. Betsy would reply by calling her a filthy whore.

  Of all the crappy videos that the bitches watched, Jackie hated The Sound of Music the least. The two fuck-ups usually left her alone while this one played. They also fed her as the end credits rolled. Just like everything else in their choreographed existence, the meal never altered from one day to the next. They gave her the same cracked blue plastic plate with a cold portion of baked beans, a slice of dry bread, a small lump of cheddar cheese, and half an apple. Still, at least they did feed her and never forgot.

  Jackie listened to the pair baiting each other, following their usual routine of insults, trying to judge whether Betsy’s bad mood had lifted a little. She really did hope that it had; the last time the bitch had been this cranky, Betsy had given Jackie half a wax apple and made her eat it.

  Oh God, just what she would do to taste just one slice of hot pizza or meatballs and mash, or even a bag of chips with scraps and covered in salt and vinegar. The chance of those two fuckers giving her anything different was about as likely as Betsy pushing in the wrong video or the nasty bitch’s chair collapsing. Jackie let out a quiet sob. No matter how hard she tried to keep it in, she just couldn’t help herself.

  “You just make one more noise, little miss,” snarled the voice from the chair in front of Jackie. “Go on, I dare you, and you’ll soon see what you’ll get.”

  She stuck her tongue out and took a deep breath. Thinking back, a pizza had been the main reason why she and James had ended up in this despicable house with only the two insane zombies for company. They had both been celebrating the fact that they had managed to make it through the final year at university with degrees to their names.

  Jackie had wanted to enjoy their unexpected success with inviting all their mates to Blackpool and having a huge piss up. Not James, though; oh no, he had suggested otherwise. For some stupid fucking reason, he wanted to go on some hiking trip, just the pair of them.

  She had no idea how James had managed to convince her to go with his idea, but she was glad that he had. Jackie had never admitted it to James, but she had thoroughly enjoyed the adventure.

  A small town called Eastmere was to be their last stop before heading home. They’d rung ahead and booked a room above a pub. Their changing moment occurred when Jackie spotted a signpost stating that the next town, Brutality, was only one mile in the next direction. Eastmere was still eight miles distant. For her rumbling stomach, that seemed like a lifetime away. She persuaded James that it really was in their best interests to take a small detour. It seemed like such a good idea at the time. They could have stopped off at the town and got a pizza before making their way to the room for their final sleep.

  Jackie sobbed again.

  The old women jumped up and squeezed her thin body between the two chairs. “What the heck did I just tell you?” she screamed. “This is why you haven’t got your stupid pictures.” Betsy turned her head. “It’s her again; the little cow is distracting me.” Betsy grabbed Jackie’s forearm. “You’re doing it on purpose, dirty little tart that you are. I’m not senile, you know.”

  The girl tried to snatch her arm back, she didn’t care how much her struggling would piss off the old bag, and Jackie couldn’t let Betsy burn her arm again.

  “Will you leave her alone, dear?” The other woman leaned around. “Come on. The Sound of Music is about to start, Betsy. You’ve been waiting for this all day.”

  The fury in the old woman’s eyes died.

  “Are you going to be a good girl?”

  Jackie nodded.

  “Well, I’m holding you to that promise. Any more noise from you, and I’ll put this fag out on your eyeball.”

  Betsy sat back down, chatting away to Ada, acting as if nothing had happene
d. Both women immediately stopped their chatter and slowly stood up, looking towards the window. Jackie could see movement outside. Oh Jesus, she prayed that it was the police. The doorbell rang twice.

  “Who could that be?” Ada muttered. “This is so inconvenient.”

  Betsy glared at the girl behind the chair. “I don’t know. Why do you always ask me stupid questions? What time is it?” The old woman turned around and helped Ada up.

  “It’s just past nine, Betsy.”

  It was always just past nine, the hands on all eight clocks hadn’t moved since they chained her in this room. Jackie used the distraction to make herself a little more comfortable, watching them both leaving the room and shutting the door behind them.

  Betsy had dropped her pen. It had fallen off the side of her armchair when she had stood up. Jackie crawled over and grabbed it. She held it tight in her hand before bursting into tears. What the fuck was she going to do with this?

  Jackie saw herself wrapping her arms around Betsy’s scrawny neck, pressing the point against her skin and ordering Ada to let Jackie go free. The whole idea was just ridiculous. They were both as mad as hatters. They wouldn’t listen to her.

  The front door opened, Jackie heard the sound of male voices, and her heart began to race. Maybe it was the police. She got to her feet and lurched forward as far as the chains would allow, hoping to see a police car parked outside. There were two cars parked in front of the bitches’ front garden, neither of them were police cars. Crying out would be a futile gesture. The saloon belonged to some local shopkeeper, and he already knew that they’d chained her up behind their chairs.

  Jackie heard the cellar door creaking open, muffled voices filtered through the door. One of those raised voices belonged to Betsy; Jackie had heard enough of her noise to know when she was annoyed. This was different; the bitch was on the verge of hysteria. The sound of flesh hitting flesh silenced her voice. Had someone just slapped her?

  “We’ll only have one left.”

  Jackie listened to Ada repeat her last statement before the unmistakeable sound of her groaning brother reached her ears. “James!” Jackie ran towards the door, stumbling when her chains snapped taut. “Leave him alone.” The bastards were taking him away.

  The door slammed open and Ada rushed over, she dropped to her knees and pressed her hand against Jackie’s mouth. “Hush, child. Don’t even think of making a sound.” The woman glanced towards the open door.

  Jackie heard the sound of laughter.

  “Anton and Daniel wanted to take you as well.” She gently tapped her swollen eye. “This is my reward for opening my mouth and sticking up for you.” Ada then dropped a small key into the girl’s hand then closed her fingers over it. “Wait until we go to bed then leave us. Your brother has gone but there’s still time to save yourself.”

  Chapter Eight

  It seemed to Gavin that the woman was too concerned over a few spots of greasy black oil splattered over her dress and shoes than actually doing what he asked. He peered over the car bonnet and scowled at her. “For crying out loud, Gloria, will you please keep an eye out for me?”

  “What do you think I have been doing? Bloody hell,” she hissed. “I only looked away for a couple of seconds. Give me some credit. Don’t treat me like a child, Gavin. Do you seriously think that I want to meet up with those bastards again? It wasn’t you that they tried to rape.”

  Gavin looked away from her accusing eyes, wishing that he had just kept his mouth closed. He returned to the task of trying to get this door open, wondering why the woman constantly tried to make him feel so incompetent. He hadn’t expected her to throw herself at his feet and thank him for saving her life; he had known the woman long enough to know that her brain wasn’t wired like that. A simple thank you would have been nice though.

  Maybe it was the simple fact that the woman had spent her entire life as a wife being ridiculed herself, and any attempt to show concern just made her annoyed and perhaps a bit fearful.

  “I’m cold,” she moaned. “How long are you going to be?”

  “Will you be quiet!” he hissed. What the hell, maybe the silly woman would respond better to an abrupt and offensive attitude. It’s how every other male treated her. “Can’t you see that I’m trying to concentrate?”

  “Do you even know what you are doing, Gavin? Whatever it is, you don’t appear to be having much success.” She patted the car’s bonnet. “Why have you chosen this rusted up old heap anyway? There are lots of newer cars further down the forecourt.”

  Gavin looked up at Gloria, trying to work out if she was serious. By the look she gave him back, she honestly had no idea why he had chosen this car. He began to wonder if he had made the correct decision in bringing her. He then felt guilty for even thinking of such a degraded thought.

  “This is just so wrong,” she muttered. “Jeffery Dunn would probably go spare if he saw us skulking around his second-hand car dealership.”

  “Sweetheart,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Jeffery Dunn has probably turned into a freaky sadist, just like your loving husband. As for what I am doing, you wouldn’t understand. Just keep a bloody eye out, and for the love of God, will you please stop talking?”

  Gavin gripped the nail file tight and pushed it back into the lock. He thought of the Dog and Gun, his favourite local in Eastmere. He couldn’t wait to get back there and taste their ales again. He smiled to himself. With some luck, he might even be able to get there tonight after he’d filed his report. This was a job for the big boys; he didn’t know what the hell had happened here but he no longer wished to have any part in it. Gavin nodded, now that was something to look forward to. He tuned out the woman’s voice, not believing that she still hadn’t shut up.

  This bastard was taking too long. It had been years since he’d tried to break into a car, and he had obviously lost the knack. The last time he had done this, Gavin had been just a teenager, on the other side of the law. The only reason why he had gone for this battered old wreck was that he thought he’d have a better chance of getting into the bloody thing. It was a mystery why the owner would have this heap on the forecourt in the first place. It stuck out like a sore thumb. All his other cars at least looked sellable, but this thing hadn’t even been washed.

  He then heard the familiar sound of the lock disengaging. He smiled and slowly opened the driver’s door. “You haven’t lost the knack after all,” he muttered. Gavin climbed in and reached across to open the door for Gloria, hoping that after all this effort the car would start up.

  “Look at that,” she whispered. “Those hooligans have lit yet another fire. What do they think they are playing at? It’s not November fifth, is it? I so hope they haven’t set some poor woman’s house on fire or somebody’s car.” She climbed inside and stared at him. “I think you had better take me home, Gavin, just in case.”

  “We have already discussed this, Gloria. We are leaving town and getting help. I’m not going to take you home.” He stared into her confused eyes. “Do you really want to be in that house all alone when Andy and his mates walk in?”

  She slowly shook her head.

  “As for what they are burning, just take a wild guess, honey. Houses and cars don’t smell of cooking meat, do they?”

  The confusion vanished when his implication took hold. “No, no way,” she gasped, shaking her head. “Nobody could be that evil.”

  “They are setting people on fire, Gloria. If they manage to catch us, you know we'll be next in line.”

  Gavin reached into his pocket and pulled out a police radio. “Here,” he said, handing it over. “I lifted this from your husband. I think it will come in handy, you know, to find out what they are really up to.”

  Why did he have to go and do a stupid thing like that? The woman didn’t need to know what those freaks were burning down in the centre of town. Then again, maybe she did. It was about time she pulled herself out of her denial and faced reality. Gavin watched her fingers nervous
ly play with the frequency button on the left side. He didn’t believe this. After all those years working for the force, and she didn’t know how to operate a radio?

  So far, the radio hadn’t revealed that much information apart from a crackled report about what those mad bastards were actually burning in the carpark. Gavin had turned the volume down to its lowest setting while they had been hiding from that roaming band of locals after escaping from the police station. That had been the only time when the radio had sprang to life, when the pair had been crouching behind that privet hedge.

  “Gloria, what are you doing? The volume control is on the other side. You’ll have to turn it up.”

  He took his eyes off the woman and peered through the windscreen, and despite his earlier thought of wanting to get out of this town, he still wondered if he was doing the right thing in leaving. He had been sent here to protect this town. Leaving it made Gavin feel like a rat deserting a sinking ship. He sighed. Of course this was the right decision, and he couldn’t exactly protect the people when they all wanted to kill him. Driving out was the only solution available.

  Gavin dug his phone out of his other pocket. There was still no connection or signal. The bloody thing was dead. What else did he expect though? Gavin had already checked his phone countless times since their escape. Somebody certainly knew how to isolate the town to throw the place back into the 20th century. They must have disabled all the transmitters. Not a hard task really, considering every network had bolted their equipment to the old brickwork’s chimney. It was the only building tall enough to get a signal out of the valley.

  “What are you doing now? Wait, don’t tell me that you are able to start a car with your phone, Gavin.”