by Kit Tinsley
‘I barely remember him,’ Jason said. ‘The thing is, the muggings started up again not long after, and when they eventually caught the guy he confessed to all of them, including the ones my dad was sent down for. He was innocent.’
Karl shook his head. The story was tragic and explained a lot of Jason’s resentment towards the police. Jason looked deep in thought for a few moments, then shook it off.
‘Let’s take a look around’ he said.
The two of them walked slowly down the layby, scanning the floor. Though the police had done clean up there was still a lot of broken glass and small fragments of metal on the floor. Jason knelt down and picked some up, examining them.
‘What I don’t get,’ Jason said, still looking at the fragments in his hands. ‘If he’s supposed to have hit something somewhere else, and then pulled up here after, why is there so much debris lying around here?’
Karl had no idea.
‘What did your guy in the police say?’ he asked.
‘He said Pearce is trying to say that he hit something somewhere else, then parked here to inspect the damage, and that when he was inspecting it he must have dislodged all of this debris,’ Jason replied.
‘That’s possible, I suppose,’ Karl said.
‘Are you kidding?’ Jason said ‘For this much shit to be left lying around here he must have been inspecting the damage with a lump hammer.’
Karl stepped away, leaving Jason to continue examining the debris. He didn’t really know what they were looking for, how was looking at this helping them find his brother. As he looked at the ground a thought occurred to him; he looked at the concrete of the layby searching for something that wasn’t there. He went over to the road itself. Scanning the narrow lane for the thing that should have been there if Jason was right. There was nothing.
‘Jason?’ he called out, he turned to see the reporter stand up and walk over to him.
‘What is it?’
‘If you’re trying to say that the police are lying, and that Phil hit something here, then where are the tyre marks?’ Karl said, pointing to the surface of the road. ‘He would have hit his brakes, there would be marks on the road.’
‘Exactly my point,’ Jason said with a slight trace of a smile forming at the corners of mouth. Karl was confuse. Jason had been trying to tell him that the police, Pearce in particular, were lying about Phil crashing somewhere else, but when faced with evidence that the crash had not taken place at this location, Jason was agreeing.
The confusion must have been clear on Karl’s face, as Jason smiled widely and shook his head.
‘I’m not saying that he hit something here,’ Jason said. ‘I’m trying to say that he didn’t hit anything at all. I’m suggesting that something hit him, a big and strong something at that. Not a car but...’
‘A big cat,’ Karl said, realising what Jason meant.
Jason nodded emphatically, he was obviously ecstatic that Karl was now on the same page as he was.
‘Have you ever seen pictures of what a lion can do to one of those safari Jeeps if they happen to break down?’
Karl couldn’t remember ever seeing such pictures, so he shook his head.
‘Let’s put it this way,’ Jason said, ‘it’s not pretty.’
Karl was starting to imagine what had happened. In his mind he could see Phil’s car, and his brother inside. His face was a mask of terror as a large, dark shape threw itself violently against the car. Metal crushed and glass shattered as the snarling creature repeatedly charged at his door. Phil screamed as the monster cat snarled at the window, showing its glinting, massive teeth.
The picture he created in his mind sent a chill down his spine, but it did make him think.
‘Okay,’ he said to Jason, ‘let’s say that a big cat is attacking the driver’s side of your car. You’d jump out of the passenger side and make a run for it surely.’
Jason nodded.
‘You’d try and make it to somewhere you could hide,’ Jason said scanning the scene, then he pointed across the road. ‘Like the long grass in that field.’
Karl followed Jason’s gaze, and thought if he was in that situation, it was what he would do. Then he brushed the thought aside.
‘Surely the police would have checked?’ Karl said.
‘As far as Pearce is concerned, there’s nothing to suggest foul play, so there would be no need to comb the fields for evidence.’ Jason stopped and turned to Karl. There was a look of concern on his face.
‘If you want me to check on my own I will,’ he continued. ‘You never know what we might find out there.’
The point he was making was clear to Karl, he was saying that he would check on his own in case Phil’s body was in the field. It was something Karl had not thought about until that moment. The last thing he wanted to do was to stumble upon the mauled corpse of his only brother, but on the other hand, he owed it to Phil to help.
‘No,’ he said finally. ‘I have to know.’
Jason looked at him as though he could understand this, as though he would be the same if he were in that position. Without another word the two men walked into the field of long grass.
Vera Pritchard walked down the tree lined dirt road that led to her farm. She had enjoyed her daily walk; she had cleared her head a little. It had been a long morning, with more guests than normal. The young man, Mr Morgan, was nice like his brother.
Altman had been more of a chore. Being polite to him when he was such a fool was hard work. How could she take the man seriously when his theories were so preposterous? Not to mention the fact that his personal hygiene left a lot to be desired. He wore that same dirty yellow jumper all the time, as though it were some kind of uniform of his ridiculous quest. Vera was sure that Altman never washed the sweater, and he wore it day in day out, whatever the weather; it stank of stale sweat and pipe smoke. She almost gagged when she let him in earlier that day. Her husband had smoked a pipe. Vera had always detested the rank smell. It always seemed worse on his clothes or breath than it did fresh in the air.
As she entered the farmyard she looked around. The outbuildings were starting to look dilapidated, in the old days Harold would have been out there fixing things up, painting and tidying, but Harold was long dead and Vera had neither the motivation, or the inclination to make the place look presentable. In its own way the decay of the place had its own charm.
Miko was nowhere to be seen, she would usually find him slinking about the old barns at this time of day awaiting his lunch.
She went in the house and took off her mac. It would need to go in the wash, that was for sure. She looked at herself in the mirror; she sighed. She was as old and dilapidated as her farm. In her youth she had been a great beauty, all of the boys in town had wanted to court her, but her heart had always belonged to Harold, even before the war, before he became a hero. Oh how Darton had honoured him, if only they had known how the war had changed him, physically and mentally. He had gone away a healthy young man, but had come back corrupted by the radiation all sides were experimenting with. The things he had seen and the things he had done had corrupted him, too. Harold had come back from the war looking perfectly normal, and still able to function normally in society, but deep inside he had brought a darkness back with him. Whereas once he had been a gentle, sweet and kind man, he now had a rough, cruel and sadistic streak. She still loved him, but had to admit it took some time for her to start to enjoy his new found perversions. Some of them she had never learnt to enjoy. That had angered him greatly, and ultimately they had led to his death.
There was a sound outside, as though something had been knocked over in the courtyard. The clatter roused her from her memories. Miko must have returned for his lunch, he was a clumsy beast and always knocking over her plant pots. She went to the kitchen and got out his bowl. From the fridge she removed a plate of raw stewing steak, knowing this was his favourite. She put the bloody chunks of meat into the bowl and then stepped outside.
&nb
sp; She saw a plant pot overturned near the old tractor shed, the tractor had gone years ago, but still no sight of Miko.
‘Miko,’ she called out cheerfully. ‘Miko, lunchtime!’
There was a growl from inside the tractor shed. He was grumpy, she thought, too much sun. He hated the heat. It always made him angry. ‘Alright, I’ll just leave it out here then,’ she said shaking her head and setting down the bowl. There was no point pestering him on a day like this.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘It’s like looking for a needle in a fucking haystack,’ Jason said, wiping the sweat from his brow. He looked over to Karl, who was stood about ten meters away scanning the ground. At Jason’s outburst, he looked over and smiled. The only thing that stood between them was a large, solitary oak tree, a gnarled and ugly thing, devoid of leaves.
‘Not really,’ Karl said, ‘at least then you know what you’re looking for. We haven’t got a clue. It’s more like looking for a needle in a stack of needles.’
Jason couldn’t take the heat anymore; he took off his jacket and threw it over his shoulder.
‘No wonder the police always look so bored when they’re doing this, and they have the advantage of there being a load of them.’
‘Alright,’ Karl said, ‘let’s call it a day.’ He felt deflated that they hadn’t found anything, but knew that the search would more than likely end up being fruitless.
Jason waved agreement and began to walk towards him, passing the large oak tree. Karl took a final look at the ground at his feet, hoping there would be something he had missed, some clue to Phil’s whereabouts. Of course, there was nothing.
‘Arrgh!’ Came the scream from behind him.
Karl span around on his heels. The field was empty, there was no sign of Jason, where he had been walking a few moments ago.
‘Jason?’ he called out.
There was no response. Karl felt frozen to the spot as fear began to engulf him. Panic spread through his imagination like wildfire. He supposed that he put more credence in Jason’s big cat theory than he had thought. Now he imagined the beast stalking the long grass in the field with them. It had already taken Jason down, and was now circling him, just beyond his vision. At any moment it could strike. He tried to push the idea out of his mind, but the fear lingered.
‘Jason?’ he called again.
Two shapes emerge from the grass ahead of him, for a split second his mind had decided they were the paws of some monstrous animal, about to pounce. Then he saw them for what they were, arms, Jason’s arms.
‘I’m over here,’ the reporter called out. ‘Near the tree.’
‘You scared the shit out of me,’ Karl said, sighing with relief. ‘What happened?’
Jason rose into view.
‘I slipped on something,’ he said wiping his trousers with his hands, ‘Probably fox shit.’
Karl laughed, the fear that had gripped him so tightly was dissipating. He watched as Jason took a tissue from his pocket and wiped the sole of his shoe. When he was done he looked at the tissue. Karl knew something was wrong when he saw the look of disgust on Jason’s face. The colour faded from his skin.
‘I think I’ve found our needle,’ he said.
Karl ran over to join him. There was a small clearing around the tree, where the grass was shorter. Karl’s heart sank when he saw the rusty brown pool in the grass, it was unmistakably drying blood. Karl looked to Jason, his eyes wide. He felt the tears rising up inside them.
‘Oh shit,’ Was all he could manage to say, he was trying to hard not to let the tears out.
‘There’s no way we can know for sure that this is your brother’s blood,’ Jason said.
Karl rooted around in his pockets until he found what he was looking for. He handed the carrier bag over to Jason.
‘Put some of the grass in here,’ he said. ‘We can take it to the police as evidence.’
‘Good idea,’ Jason said. As he turned and bent down to pick up some of the stained grass, Karl saw that the back of his shirt was smeared with the browning blood.
‘You’re covered in it,’ Karl said.
Jason put his hand to his back, and visibly grimaced as he touched the sticky mark.
‘Gross,’ he said standing back up. He handed the bag back over to Karl who tucked it back into his jeans pocket.
‘You realise that Pearce will probably ignore it?’ Jason said, his disdain for Pearce showing through once more.
‘Phil had a blood test taken last week, so they can match it to that right? They can’t ignore that, can’t they?’ Karl said, he wanted to have more faith in the police than it was clear that Jason had, but at the same time, Pearce had left him with doubts.
‘Who knows with Pearce?’ Jason said shrugging, ‘but I guess it’s worth a try.’
‘We should mark the spot,’ Karl said, ‘So we or the police can find it again easily. ’Jason nodded and then began to scan the area.
‘Pass me that branch over there,’ he said.
Karl followed the direction of his stare and saw what he meant, a large branch that had been snapped off the tree, he walked over to get it. As he returned he saw Jason pulling off his bloodstained shirt. Jason took the branch from him and rammed it into the ground, then tied the shirt to it, creating what looked like a makeshift flag. To Karl’s eyes it looked like a grotesque rendition of the Japanese flag, the near circular smear of drying blood on the white cotton.
‘They shouldn’t miss that,’ Jason said. ‘Let’s head to the police station then.’
Karl looked at him and frowned.
‘What?’ Jason said confused.
‘Do you think they’re going to take you seriously topless?’ he said, half smiling.
‘Very funny,’ Jason replied. ‘My gym bag is in the car. I’ve got a T-shirt in there.’
With that they headed back towards the car.
Linda cycled down Maltham lane; it was a pleasant ride on a sunny day, once you got past the edge of town and the recycling centre, that was. First, you had the open road from which you got a stunning view of the old Maltings. Those vast buildings had once been the centre of industry in the town, but a fire many decades ago had left them ruined. They haunted the southern edge of Darton like some kind of giant skeletal beast. The ghost of Victorian industry still trying, even after its death, to encroach on what was ultimately a rural town.
Once you went around the first large bend, though, you entered a long, tree lined straight. The sun, shining through the branches overhead, dappled the road in light. It reminded Linda of when she had seen some paintings by the impressionists in an exhibition once. The way the used flecks of colour to give the suggestion of something. It was a magical area to her.
Around the next bend there was nothing but winding roads and fields on either side, most of them containing nothing but long grass. Most of these fields belonged either to the Pritchard farm or to Alf Tipps. Vera Pritchard didn’t work the fields anymore, but was too attached to them to sell up, and Alf was just too drunk and lazy to bother doing much with his land.
She saw the layby up ahead. She slowed down as she entered it; she could already see that there was a lot of broken glass scattered about, and the last thing she wanted was a puncture. Bringing her bike to a stop, she dismounted it, kicked down the stand and left it as far away from the debris as she could.
Holding the camera, she walked over and began taking photographs of the ground. There was an amazing amount of metal and glass the police had left lying around at the site; surely it was dangerous.
A deep growl came from the field beside her, making her jump. She peered into the long grass looking for the source of the sound. Despite how much she loved and respected Jason, he was her best friend, she had never really believed that there was some wild animal roaming the fields around Darton. Linda was sure that it was that fool Altman that had put the idea in his head. Of course she had heard all the stories, ‘The Beast of Bourne Woods’, ‘The Lindsey Panther’, and
she didn’t believe in any of them anymore than she believed in what Jason had sensationally dubbed ‘The Darton Beast’, but as she saw the long grass moving in front of her, she could not stop herself from imagining some fierce beast approaching.
Running to her bike, not wanting to test her disbelief, she got back on, kicking the stand up as she did. She peddled hard and fast, trying to put as much distance between her and the layby as possible, and get home as quickly as she could. Once she was at home with her feet up on the sofa, and a hot cup of tea, she could laugh at her own stupidity. For now, though, fleeing was her only concern.
Looking back, she almost fell off the bike in shock, the long grass in the field was moving still, whatever it was was following her, and more alarmingly, gaining on her. Linda gritted her teeth and peddled harder. It was times like this she wished she was more athletic, that she was capable of getting up more speed on her bike. She was feeling the pain of her excursion in her calves, her thighs and even in her tightening chest, but she did not care; she would not let these pains make her slow down.
She risked another look back. The thing running through the long grass was closer still, no more than ten feet behind her now. God help her, she prayed, if she could just get home she would start going to church again, she promised. Bolts of lightning shot through the muscles of her legs, and her heart was beating so hard she half expected it to burst out of her chest. Still she pushed herself harder, now riding faster than she had since childhood, when her and her friends would race down this very road. In those days it had been fun, the one chasing you was your friend. Now, though, she felt blind dread.
Behind her she saw that the creature had closed the gap even more. Now it was within six feet of her. Surely that was within leaping distance for an animal like a leopard. Any moment now she would see its mass out of the corner of her eye. A large dark shape would fly through the air towards her, eclipsing the sun with it muscular body. Powerful jaws would clamp sharp teeth into her neck, and she would be gone forever.
