by G H Mockford
He returned to his reading. ‘One night, so the story goes, the daughter met with a man at the top of the cliffs, but they were surprised by a group of bandits. It was known that the daughter frequented the place and they had laid in wait so they could attack and rob the rich gentleman, for it was only rich men that the daughter lay with. However, the gentleman ran away, and not wishing to leave empty handed the bandits decided to partake of the farmer’s daughter instead. Rather than face the indignity and humiliation, she dived off the top of the rock face to her death. The legend says that her ghost haunts the top of the rocks to this very day, to avenge herself on the bandits or the rich gentleman, whoever reappears first.’ Wolf-Man put the folder down on the ostentatious desk and finished the rest of his coffee.
‘Are you all limbered up, Richard? Let’s go and see if the story is true. I’m sure she’ll see you for the rapist you are.’
Wolf-Man coiled up the rope that he had used to tie Rollins earlier and put a hangman’s noose in the end. He then slipped it over the teacher’s head and, using it as a lead, led him through the kitchen. Unlocking the door to the garage, he quickly checked on A.J. and Tray. They were still hanging from the roof beam. Andrew’s body was limp. Tracy still seemed to be awake and standing, but she didn’t look across at him.
Relocking the door, Wolf-Man took the keys, slipped on a Northern Face coat, and he and Rollins left the house.
They walked down the road. It was cold outside now and Rollins was still wearing the trousers and shirt he had worn to work on Wednesday. He stumbled at first, but his captor just dragged him along. They reached a stile, and Wolf-Man removed a Maglite from his pocket so they could both climb over it.
‘Right, Richard. It’s going to start to get hard now. There’s a path initially and then we’ll have to start the difficult climb to the top. Don’t worry, someone’s kindly put some steps in as well as the natural ones within the rock. That said, it’s still hard going if you’re not used to it, and I’m guessing you’re not.’ Wolf-Man tugged the rope and began to lead his captive along the path.
As they climbed the steps that zigzagged their way up the side of the rock face, Rollin’s breathing became laboured. Wolf-Man removed the sock he had stuffed in the teacher’s mouth so he wouldn’t inhale it down the back of his throat. By the time they neared the top, Rollins was practically crawling his way up, using his hands to support himself like a child climbing the stairs.
‘Well done, Richard. Almost there. You’ve survived the first part of your test. Now comes…’ Wolf-Man paused for dramatic effect like a poor actor in an amateur production. ‘Now comes your crucifixion.’
Rollins collapsed onto the hard rock and spoke between heaving breaths.
‘I’m sorry Richard, I didn’t hear you,’ Wolf-Man said, leaning closer.
‘I didn’t…do…what…you are…accusing…me of,’ he said between rattling breaths and clattering teeth.
Wolf-Man said nothing, just tugged the rope, and dragged Rollins across the smooth, flat rock towards the trig point. Rollins struggled to get to his feet and then staggered the last bit, his body slamming into the concrete pillar.
‘W…where…are we?’ Rollins managed to say before he twisted and fell to the ground.
‘We’re at the end, Richard. Don’t worry. Here, let me help you.’ Wolf-Man took hold of Rollins, pulled him upright and sat him so he was leaning on the trig point. The teacher was now looking over the cliff and out at the darkness that hid what was a beautiful view during daylight hours. Rollins began to shiver again, but Wolf-Man knew it was going to get worse, much worse for the child molester. He crouched down and removed the teacher’s shoes, his remaining sock and then, with some effort, removed his trousers.
‘W…what…are… you doing?’
Wolf-Man ignored the question as he took off the teacher’s shirt which was bathed in sweat despite the cold. Finally, using the knife from its trusty leg sheath, Wolf-Man cut the sides of Rollins’ underpants and pulled them free.
‘Good night, Richard.’
‘Good night?’
Putting the knife back in its sheath, Wolf-Man turned and made his way back to the house. He could hear Rollins shouting, but he ignored him as he headed downwards. Now it was time for the other half of the sinful pair to suffer the consequences. And he was so looking forward to creating his own Pollock with her blood.
Seventy-Four
I was awoken by the touch of a nurse’s hand on my shoulder, and I was glad she had. I’d had a terrible night of dreams and she had awoken me from the worst. The car I had been driving was on a twisted, complicated network of roads with off and on ramps, none of which were signposted. I tried to decide which exit to take, but I couldn’t, not without all the information I needed. In the end, I chose a route, but it was the wrong one. The startling realization that I was now driving under an on-ramp came too late, and I crashed into the concrete apex, crushed within the car by the impact.
‘Alex? Alex?’ the nurse repeated. I was facing the back of the chairs, so she didn’t know she had already woken me and so she gently rocked me. I would like to say I became instantly awake, but I felt leaden as I awkwardly turned myself over. She stepped out of the way as I swung my legs off the chairs and sat up. Despite my sluggish movements, my brain was alert enough to take in her tone of voice and the slight smile revealed in the upturned corners of her mouth.
‘What time is it?’ I asked, not quite brave enough to ask about Sarah.
‘It’s just gone six,’ she said without looking at her watch, or at the clock on the wall. ‘I have some news,’ she said. ‘Sarah’s woken up.’
‘Can I see her?’ I asked as I got to my feet.
‘I’m afraid not quite yet. The doctor has just removed the tube that’s been helping her to breath. She’s a little panicked as you would imagine and her voice is a little hoarse. She wants to speak to–’ I had heard enough and began to walk towards the door. ‘Wait, Alex. The doctor wants to give her at least half an hour to settle down,’ the nurse said as she intercepted my course.
‘Is she ok?’
‘The doctor’s carrying out an examination at the moment. Why don’t you freshen up, have a coffee and I’ll come back for you soon.’
I nodded, what else could I do? The nurse smiled, put her hand on my upper arm, gave it a reassuring squeeze and then turned and left.
I sat back down for a while and stared at my hands. They were trembling. Sarah had asked for me so that must mean she remembered, so maybe she hadn’t suffered any serious brain injury. Maybe she would be back at school, unchanged and unharmed.
I decided to do as the nurse suggested and went and freshened up. I looked in the mirror. I looked dreadful, but I hoped that to Sarah I would look good, not for my own vanity, but so I could make her happy.
Back in the relatives room I turned on the kettle. It seemed to take forever for the water to boil. I found the cleanest cup I could and made a strong, sweet cup of coffee. It sat on the table going cold as I waited for the nurse to return. I looked at the clock. It was almost seven. I felt like I was trapped in a bubble where time stood still. The bubble popped as the door opened and the nurse returned.
‘Sarah’s ready to see you now,’ she said, again with the merest hint of a smile on her face. I jumped up, tucked my shirt in and made myself as presentable as I could. ‘Before we go in, I must warn you what to expect. At first Sarah will look better than when you saw her with all the tubes, but don’t be surprised if she seems a bit drunk. It’s not the drugs that we’ve been giving her, but the effect of the blow to the head. She’ll find it hard to concentrate and may occasionally say sentences that won’t quite make sense or they could be random, say, answering a question you asked two or three back.’ The nurse smiled at me again and asked, ‘Any questions?’
I shook my head. I couldn’t think of anything. All I wanted was to see Sarah. I began to walk to the door.
‘One last thing. She will get tir
ed very quickly. The doctor has requested that you speak for only five minutes, and then he strongly requests that you go home.’ I nodded. ‘Then let’s go,’ the nurse said.
She took me out of the relatives’ room and across the hall to ICU. Sliding her security pass through the lock, she pulled open the door and we entered.
Sarah’s eyes were closed when I first stepped up to her and I thought she had fallen asleep again. The nurse squeezed my arm and then went to sit on a chair on the opposite side of the bed. Was she staying because they didn’t trust me or was it standard procedure?
I gazed down at Sarah’s face. She was still beautiful despite the small wounds and cuts she had. Maybe her vulnerability made her more attractive to my eyes. I reached out to take her slender hand and her head moved slightly, and her eyes opened. They were a little wonky like she was drunk, her brain still not in complete control perhaps or maybe, and I hoped not, a lasting after-effect. Her lips moved, but no sound came out, none that I could hear anyway. I tried my best to smile and look brave, but I feared that my true feelings were plastered all over my face. I moved a little closer.
‘You look very nice.’ Her voice was a hoarse whisper. ‘Nice to see you made an effort.’
‘These are my work clothes, Sarah. We should have had our d…’ The words died in my throat.
‘I know, silly. I was…’ she stopped. She looked tired. Tired wasn’t even the word for it. ‘I was teasing you, silly.’
‘I know,’ I lied.
‘Alex, will you be my Prince Charming?’
‘Of course,’ I said, a little confused and desperately fighting the words from getting stuck in my throat. I could feel emotion overcoming me and I didn’t want her to see me cry.
‘Will you kiss me so I can wake up and this will all go away?’
I looked across at the nurse as if I was seeking permission. She didn’t respond, so I leaned forward and kissed Sarah on the forehead. ‘I wish I could make it better,’ tears slipped from my eyes and softly dripped onto her forehead. As I rose, they ran down her face and mingled with her own.
‘Properly,’ she whispered hoarsely. I bent forward and gently placed my lips on hers, and tasted our joined tears. I moved away and stroked her cheek with my hand. She said something, but it was too quiet, so I moved closer again.
‘Alex, I know who it was.’ I froze. I hadn’t considered the possibility that she had seen him. ‘I pulled off his mask. It was…’ She closed her eyes and her body slumped as if it was too much for her to say, or perhaps if she said his name aloud the Wolf-Man would somehow pick up her scent and track her down.
‘Sarah?’ I said as I moved even closer, and with last of her energy she whispered her attacker’s name in my ear.
Seventy-Five
Richard Rollins was desperately trying to stay awake. He didn’t have a clue where he was, or how he got here. The more he tried to remember, the more it slipped away like a dream you wake up from before it’s complete. A while back he had incredible pain in his toes, feet, fingers, backside and legs, but as the time passed by he hurt less and less. He thanked God for small mercies.
Now he just felt tired, so tired.
Why had they done this to him? It was his stag weekend. Yes, that was it. He was remembering, slowly. That was why he was here, tied, naked to a concrete pillar. He should have known he couldn’t trust the lads. It explained why he felt so pissed, too. The bastards had obviously got him drunk, and carried out some stupid stag night prank. Yes, very funny. Let’s get the groom naked, strap an ‘L’ plate to his chest, tie him up, and leave him there until the police find him. His eyes heavy and his head rolling, Richard looked down at his chest, but the ‘L’ plate wasn’t there. It was very windy out, it must have blown away.
The sky was getting lighter and there was no denying that the view was stunning. It was a shame the fog spoiled it. Richard had a vague remembrance of a house. He’d walked here from it, leaving the warmth of the fire behind. No matter how hard he peered, the fog was too thick and he couldn’t see the house any longer, or his friends he had come here with.
Where had they gone? Surely they hadn’t just left him here. He opened his mouth and was about to call out when he couldn’t think who to call out to. Who were his friends? What were their names? There was Alex, Phil, Connor, and James. Had they all come for the weekend? He closed his eyes and tried to picture their faces, but all he could see was the face of a wolf.
‘Guys?’ he called out. It didn’t come out as loud as he intended, and the fog seemed to swallow it further, making it nothing but a whisper. Rollins shouted it again and this time there came a reply from the left. He turned his head and gazed somewhat blankly through the fog. It was even lighter now and he could make out shapes through the swirling whiteness. In fact, it was surprisingly lighter. Maybe he had fallen asleep and woken up an hour later.
‘Guys? Is that you?’ he called as a dark shape grew larger through the fog. Richard looked harder, his head flopping about like a puppet with its strings cut. The shape slowly split into five smaller ones. Yes, it was his friends. They had come back for him! He couldn’t wait to tell them how funny he’d found the joke but, now, he just wanted to go for a curry at 4550.
Richard watched as they came out of the twisting fog and stood before him in a curved line. ‘Guys?’ he asked again. He lifted his head to look at them, but it was difficult. He was tired. He just wanted to sleep. He was cold, so cold and if he slept it would all go away.
Alex, Phil, Connor, James and that twat, Elstree from the PE Department, stood before him. Why the fuck did I invite him? Richard thought as he peered at Elstree. Something was wrong. Were they all going to a fancy dress party, or had they decided to dress up for the big night out? They looked like pirates. No, they were bandits! Maybe they weren't his friends, after all. Then he began to remember a story, something to do with bandits going after a woman.
‘Don’t hurt me!’ Rollins screamed as they came towards him.
‘Why would we hurt you?’ they all said together. ‘We’re just like you. We’re kindred spirits.’
‘No, no, I don’t hurt women. You do. You do.’ Rollins tried to point at the bandit that hurt women, that had hurt him, but he couldn’t raise his arm. He knew one of them had been hurting him. Hurting lots of people, but which was it? He was tired and stiff. He couldn’t remember. He wanted to sleep.
‘I use women maybe, but I don’t hurt them.’ Rollins continued before he started to cry. ‘You hurt women.’ Rollins tried to say the man’s name again, the one who had blathered on about his True Mission, but he couldn’t. Why couldn’t he remember? He knew them all just now, why couldn’t he remember the one he needed to?
If he slept, he would remember. Sleep was the key.
Richard felt someone touch his shoulder and the warm hand seemed to burn his cold flesh. He turned and looked at the newcomer. It was a woman. A beautiful woman dressed like an old fashioned wench. Rollins could only dream of possessing a woman so spectacular. He turned to his friends to tell them as such, but they were gone. Why? Why did they have to leave him again and why did he have to be discovered, naked and tied to a concrete pillar by this vision of beauty? Maybe she would take pity on him and warm him up. He’d like nothing more than to be curled up under a duvet with her.
‘Here, let me untie you, Richard,’ she said.
‘Only if you let me tie you up afterwards,’ Rollins said managing a small laugh. The woman moved behind him and the pillar, her long skirt gently caressing his face as she swept past him. A few moments later she reappeared before him.
‘You can get up now, Richard.’
He tried. ‘I can’t. I’m too drunk. I can’t get my legs to work. Can you help me up? Don’t worry, everything else works properly, I promise.’ The woman lifted him up with a strength that belied her delicate, but busty frame. She tucked her head under his arm so she could support his weight and hold him up.
‘Thank you. You’re her aren
’t you? You’re the Doxie? The farmer’s daughter?’ Richard staggered. His legs wouldn’t work and there was no way he’d be able to make love to her despite his proud boast just now. He suspected that she would be willing to do all the work though. She could sit upon him, her long skirts covering up their modesty.
‘Yes, Richard, and I’ve come for my revenge.’
‘Revenge? I’m not the one you want.’ Rollins’ legs buckled from under him and the doxie had to use all her strength to keep his dead weight up as they moved slowly, inexorably closer to the cliff edge.
‘But you are Richard. You are. I’m ill. I see that now, and it’s all your fault. I thought I’d taken you because of Charlie, but now I see that I’ve taken you for myself. God wants you to make this sacrifice so that I can be free so I can be well again.’
‘I…I don’t understand. Has God come on our stag weekend too?’
‘No, Richard, but the Devil has.’
Richard wobbled for a moment and slipped, but again the incredible strength of the woman saved him. ‘Look. Look at the sunrise,’ Richard said as he stared at the great ball of fire through the early morning fog. ‘It’s beautiful up here, isn’t it?’
‘Richard, I’m going to kill you now,’ the Doxie said.
‘Isn’t there time for one more drink? It’s my last night as a single man.’
‘No, Richard, this is your last morning…alive.’
The doxie gently lowered Richard to the floor, so that he was kneeling as if in prayer.
‘It’s really beautiful that sun, don’t you think?’ Richard waited for an answer, but none was forthcoming. ‘Sweetheart?’
Richard’s body was so numb with cold that he didn’t feel the boot push between his shoulder blades. All he knew was that he was flying like a bird out toward the sun.
