The metal fan up the road. Him and his girlfriend, full of piercings and tats. Something with guitars driving them on to ever-weirder displays of affection. He often pictured them sticking holes in each other’s faces so they could put in another stud.
TVs blaring, trying to drown out the neighbours’ TV. Kids’ cars with fat exhausts roaming the streets. Bass pumping. People shouting, ‘Fuck off.’ ‘Where’s the keys?’ ‘Dinner!’ ‘Who left that there?’ ‘What are you doing reading my fucking texts?’ ‘Who’s Terry?’ ‘Shut the fuck up!’ People flushing their toilets, the smell of weed from the fucked-up lonely sad case three doors down where he fed his own black-and-green mellow machine.
Walking down the road to his house, Smiley heard none of those noises. Just the constant pounding rain, the flop of his and Mandy’s feet in the water running along the street.
The street felt alien to him. Like the whole town … He tried to think back. Had he seen anyone, the whole night? Anyone but the man at the shop, Mandy, Greg … Hippo?
The policeman that pretended to be a policeman. That pretended to be his dad.
Had he seen anyone else?
The answer was no. It felt like a heavy door clanging shut in his mind. He hadn’t seen anyone. Cars on the bypass … but in town? Nothing. No cars, no taxis, no buses. No kids hanging out in the shadows, out of the rain, talking shit, drinking cider. No people outside the pubs they passed, smoking illicit fags under whatever shelter they could find.
Had Mandy noticed?
He didn’t know. He suddenly realised he knew a hell of lot less about everything than he thought he had.
He dumped his bike on the front lawn and took a key from his jeans pocket.
He didn’t want to ask her what she had or hadn’t noticed. He didn’t want to ask in case he didn’t like her answer.
“You’d better stay here,” he said instead. He didn’t want to leave her behind, but if his Dad caught him bringing a girl in …
“Fuck you. I’m not staying here on my own.”
He thought about making an issue of it. He didn’t want a fight with his dad, but he didn’t want to get split up from Mandy. There was something between them. They knew there was a world beyond this one. They were joined.
They’d seen the policeman.
Smiley didn’t know if that was the drugs talking, but he thought it might be true. Sometimes the things you thought on drugs were complete nonsenses. Other times, things that were true were even more true.
He played that statement over in his head, but he couldn’t find fault with it.
They were linked. She felt like good luck to him. She felt like a reason.
He nodded. He kissed her on the forehead. It felt strange doing it, but good too.
“Come on, then.”
He turned the key in the door and pushed it open with the same hand.
He didn’t call out. Nobody called out to him.
He imagined maybe some kids, they came home soaked to the bone, their parents would give them hell, like you scared the shit out of me, you little fuck … but I love you. Me and your mum, me and your dad, we were worried shitless. Come on, I’ll run you a bath. Make you some hot chocolate. You’re freezing. Shit, are you all right? What happened?
None of that was real, though.
The thing they’d met tonight, that thing had understood. That Dad was real. The thing that could become his dad, could become a policeman? That was real.
He felt tears welling up, but he wouldn’t cry. And when his dad got the fuck up and out of his stinking couch, put his beer down long enough, Smiley’d beat him to death with his fucking hands if he had to.
“Just wait here,” he whispered, stopping Mandy with a gentle hand on her shoulder. There was violence inside Smiley. He felt it welling in him. He was so full of it, he shook.
He was scared. Shit scared. But the anger was taking over.
He didn’t show Mandy any of that, though. Somehow, he knew she needed him to be gentle. It wasn’t a conscious thing, but something he felt deep down, her need for him … and yes, his need for her.
The light from the rain didn’t penetrate into the house. He couldn’t see a thing past the porch, but he knew the house well enough in the dark. He’d snuck in, and out, plenty of times in the dark. He’d always thought it was dark then, but that was just background dark. Baby dark. There had always been a little light from the streetlamps. Now there was nothing. A small pool of light in the porch. Mandy’s bare skin was glowing. He held out a hand in front of his face. He was glowing too. He looked down and saw his soaking trainers had left a short glowing trail.
Not enough to see by.
Maybe his Dad had been standing on a ladder when the lights went out, and stepped off into black space. Maybe he’d fallen down and broken his neck.
Fat fucking chance.
Smiley moved into the front room. He held his hands out before him, partly to stop himself from walking into things. He knew his house in the baby dark, but this was grown-up dark, and it was a whole different country.
He also imagined his dad standing in the blackness, waiting for him to come back, his belt cocked, ready. Loop in his fist, buckle at the end.
Punishment.
Then he’d let Smiley make up for it.
Smiley clenched and unclenched his fists, sliding his wet feet across the carpet.
He stubbed his toe and almost cried out in panic.
He shifted and shuffled, hit something else. Reached down. Just a shoe.
Felt around. Wet. Thick wet.
He became aware of a smell. He realised he’d smelled it when he came into the house, somewhere under the smell of the rain. Now this new smell was on top.
He had no choice but to go by feel. Wet all across the carpet, an empty shoe. Crawling forward, Smiley put his hand on something cold and hard.
It took him a while to figure out what it was, because it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. It was a belt buckle. With no belt.
Smiley swallowed. Bit the inside of his cheek.
He got up and walked as fast as he dared into the kitchen. The top drawer to the right of the cooker held knives. He took one out by feel. Holding it tight in one hand, he rooted around under the drawer tidy and came up with a small bag containing a tiny bit of resin, a pack of Rizla, a single cigarette and a lighter. His emergency stash.
He took some deep breaths and flicked the lighter before he walked into the front room from the kitchen. The lighter got hot against the pad of his index finger.
Smiley stood with the lighter burning his finger, looking down at the massive explosion of blood across the dirty beige carpet. Matted hair at the top, a belt buckle he knew all too well, shoes at the bottom and bones in between.
He looked up. Saw Mandy standing in the doorway. Her face was pure white, her mouth open in a comic expression of shock.
“Oh, fuck,” she said. “Is that your dad?”
Smiley fell to the floor, letting the lighter go out. The tears came at last, heavy sobs choking his throat. At some point, he became aware of Mandy’s arms around him, Mandy making pointless noises at him in the back of her throat, like he was a baby lost in the adult dark.
“We’ll get it, Smiley. Me and you. We’ll get the policeman.”
How could he explain that he was crying because he was lost? For more years than he could remember, he’d dreamed of killing his dad, of finally having the courage to do it.
He was a coward with a dream, and the policeman had taken away all that had kept him going. The thing that pretended to be a policeman had also worn his dad’s skin, and all the time, the only thing that Smiley lived for had been turned to blood and bone on his living room carpet.
*
Chapter Twenty-Four
A small torch threw weak light and strange shadows into the room as Mandy pulled a t-shirt over her head. Only now she was out of the rain did she realise she was absolutely frozen. She had no feeling in her hands or feet.
When she tried to zip up the hooded top, her fingers wouldn’t work. She fumbled at it until Smiley looked up and noticed her struggling.
“Here,” he said. “Let me do it.”
He moved her hands aside. His fingers shook as much as hers. She wanted to hold his hands, but she didn’t know if he’d want her to. He’d held her earlier, but since then, he’d been distant. Cold. Like before.
No. That wasn’t right. Smiley was never cold. He burned. His eyes were fires, fuelled by anger. It was what he was.
What did she expect? He’d just found his father’s body.
Smiley was afraid. She’d heard that … thing … say terrible things. Like he’d been doing something to Smiley. But it wasn’t the policeman. It was Smiley’s dad that was the monster.
She’d never known. Four years at school together, four years of being the outcasts at school, and she’d never known.
How could she make it up to Smiley? How do make up to someone you’ve let down like that?
Mandy’s parents weren’t the brightest. They weren’t the best. They barely knew she existed. But her dad had never tried to …
She wanted to take Smiley’s hand. She did. But she couldn’t. She was afraid he might burn her.
Mandy didn’t know many long words. She didn’t try hard in school. She wasn’t dumb, though, not like they thought she was. She talked all the time. Just not in school.
In her school, she had a battle axe and a suit of armour.
Real people hurt. There was no armour for real people.
She understood plenty of things that adults never did. The teachers at school shouted at Smiley and put him down in class. The other kids were cruel too. She saw the way they looked at him and heard all the names they called him.
She understood him in a way they never would. They were just making him stronger. It was what made Smiley what he was. Anger. She’d never met anyone so angry.
Maybe people did have armour after all. She wore hers online. Smiley wore his every day, because his armour was his anger.
No wonder.
Now she thought he was angry at her.
He wouldn’t look at her when she was changing. She knew she wasn’t beautiful, but even when she’d been standing there in her bra and knickers, he’d just looked away.
Her knickers were stained. Maybe they’d reminded him of what Greg and Hippo had done to her. Hippo first, Greg second.
He’d stopped Hippo. He’d walloped the fat fuck so hard she thought maybe he’d killed him. It was all pretty hazy. Hippo and Greg … they were bastards. Greg was her boyfriend, for fuck’s sake.
She was filthy. They’d made a mess of her. There was blood and … other stuff.
Of course he wouldn’t look at her. Who would?
When he’d finally done the zip, he stood back and smiled at her. A little unsure, but sweet. If Greg hadn’t been her boyfriend, she would have asked Smiley out. Well, Greg wasn’t her boyfriend anymore, but Smiley wouldn’t come near her. He knew. She was ashamed. She hadn’t been able to stop them.
But he’d stopped Hippo. Even though they’d all been fucked on whatever shit it was the policeman gave them, Smiley had somehow sorted himself out long enough to do something about it.
She was just too tired to think about it.
“What are we going to do, Smiley?”
She expected him to say something along the lines of ‘How the fuck should I know?’
“I don’t know,” he said, which was somehow far worse. He shook his head. Shadows in the candlelight danced across the glass of the window. The rain hammered at it. But it was outside, and they were inside. It couldn’t get in.
Could it?
“We’ve got to run.”
Smiley shook his head.
“What else can we do?”
“We can’t run.”
“Why not?”
Smiley shook his head again, then just stared at the flickering candlelight.
“Smiley, talk to me. Please. We need to do something.”
“You can run. You’ve got somewhere to go.”
“We can both run.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” he said. There was no malice in his voice. Just weariness. He was obviously tired. It was nearly two in the morning. It had been a mad night. She was coming down. She knew he had to be too. Plus, he’d just found the remains of his dad. She had to figure that into how he was feeling.
Fucking bastard or not, that had to be hard.
“No,” she said, softly. She didn’t want him angry at her. That would be more than she could take.
“I killed Hippo, Mandy. Wherever I go, the police’ll find me.”
“You didn’t kill him.”
“I hit him in the fucking head with a baseball bat.”
“Well, you had to.”
“What? I didn’t have to at all. I was fucked up on drugs. Whatever else happened tonight, I killed someone. You don’t walk away from that.”
“Smiley, he was raping me. That’s got to count for something.”
“He wasn’t raping you. He was … I was jealous. I …”
“What?”
“I wanted you. He had you. I hit him.”
She didn’t know how she felt about that. She felt kind of good, but she knew she shouldn’t, because it wasn’t right.
“Smiley, you’re wrong. Hippo and Greg were raping me. I should know.”
He looked like he wanted to believe her. She was confused. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say. He wanted Hippo to have been raping her, so he could feel better. She understood why, but her initial flush at the thought of Smiley being jealous was rushing away.
She sniffed. She didn’t want to cry. Not anymore.
“I’m sorry, Mandy. I was so fucked up. I didn’t know. I saw things. I …”
“We were all fucked up,” she said.
“I …”
“No. Whatever. You hit Hippo. Maybe he died. Maybe he didn’t. I don’t care. You helped me, and now I want to help you. Whatever it was, I don’t fucking know. I don’t care. We need to fix things while we can.”
He was looking at her strangely again. Like he was seeing her for the first time.
“Mandy, I don’t know what I can do.”
“We.”
“What?”
“I think you mean ‘we.’ Where am I going to go? He’s after me too.”
“You?”
“I’m in this as much as you are. I’m not stupid, Smiley. I’m not.”’
“I never thought you were.”
“Yes, you did, but it’s all right. It doesn’t matter now. The policeman’s who we’ve got to worry about. Can we phone the police? The real police?”
Smiley shook his head.
“No police. Not now. Not ever.”
“What about the neighbours?”
Smiley looked at her. That look was back. Like fire in his eyes. Bright torches that could burn you up if you looked too long.
“What?”
He shook his head again. “I can hear next door having a piss, Mandy. Do you get it? I can hear them pissing in the bowl. Did they ever …?” Smiley stifled a sob with his hand and looked away from her.
She wasn’t stupid.
“Oh … Smiley … I’m sorry. Fuck. I am stupid.”
“I wouldn’t piss on them if they were on fire.”
She was afraid of getting burned, but she reached out to him anyway. He wasn’t hot like she’d feared. He was cold. Cold to the bone. Angry but afraid. Just like she was.
“We’ve got to get to the house he told us about. If we don’t do what he says, I think he’ll kill us,” he said.
“You think doing what he says is going to change that?”
“I don’t know.”
“I do,” she said. “You think what happened tonight was our fault? We were smoking, this policeman comes along, gets us completely fucked up, sends us off like dogs. That’s our fault? Whatever happened tonight, we were fucking
out of our skulls. That wasn’t our fault.”
“What about the man on the floor?”
“He was still alive when we left. I saw him breathing. You knocked him about, but you didn’t kill him.”
“I might have.”
Mandy sat beside him on the bed. She was confused. She was scared. None of that mattered, though. For the first time in her life, she felt like someone needed her. Right then, she would have gone to the end of the earth for Smiley.
“You need to forget about it.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to forget about it?”
“You’ve had fights before.”
“It wasn’t a fight. I hit Hippo with a bat, and some guy I’ve never even seen before. I deserve whatever’s coming to me.”
She took his hand and held it.
“Where did you get the bat?”
“What?”
“Stop saying ‘What?’ all the time and start thinking. I’ve been thinking while you’ve been sitting there feeling sorry for yourself. Where did you get the bat?”
“I … I don’t know.”
“He set you off. The policeman set us all off.”
Smiley thought about it. His eyes flickered. Mandy could almost imagine she saw the fire in there, stepping up a notch.
“Smiley … you know … he probably wasn’t even a paedo. I think the policeman knew what to say to … set you off. He pushed us. It wasn’t you.”
He nodded. Stood up.
Mandy liked what she saw.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“You’re right,” he said. For a moment, his lips set, he stared at nothing. Thinking. Nodded again, like he got it. Mandy didn’t know what it was, but it was good. Smiley was back.
“Come on.”
“Where we going?”
“Up the hill.”
She wanted to run, but she stood up next to him. It didn’t matter what she wanted. One thing was obvious. Wherever they went, it would find them.
There wasn’t any point in running.
He kissed her again. This time on the cheek. A little self-consciously, but it was heartfelt, and it felt good to Mandy.
“I don’t know what it is,” he said. “One minute it’s a policeman, one minute it’s my dad. I don’t give a fuck anymore. Whatever it is, I owe the cunt a beating.”
RAIN/Damned to Cold Fire (Two Supernatural Horror Novels): A RED LINE Horror Double: Supernatural Page 9
