Flee

by Caroline Gebbie

  He breathed in deep, concentrating, getting his mind back on the task at hand. Robert held the knife before him. “Bind to me Desmodontidae of the Underworld. Come to my command and be my supplicant. I offer you this sacrifice by blood and intestine, I call you to me, bind, bind, bind.”

  He took the knife and plunged it deep into her flesh, just above her curly pubic hair. The blade entered easily, slipping into her body easier than any man. He pulled to his right, slicing through her skin like warm butter. Her coiled intestines spilled forward and ran over his knees. The smell was instant and nauseating. The coils of hot intestine released their contents and seemed to scold his skin as they tumbled out of her body. He pulled back his head, recoiling from the stench. Warm, slimy snakes slipped across his legs and onto the ground. As if with a life of their own, the large intestines, the caecum and colon seemed to squirm on the ground. The smaller intestines piled out on top of them, the whole mess writhing on the floor, smelling of copper and purification. He pulled the colon, feeling the mass bulge in his hands, the food still contained in it moving, making it impossible to grab with any strength. He brought the knife in and cut the squirming tube, as low down as he could. He wrinkled his nose at the sudden smell of excrement. It was all he could do to not throw the girl into the pit and turn around and vomit. He controlled his disgust. This would be over soon, and end better for him than her, or at least he hoped so.

  He clenched his jaw, controlling his urge. Lifting the girl by her hair, he pushed her to one side. Now all he had to do was push the steaming pile of viscera into the pit, repeating his earlier incantation.

  He shoved them over with his foot, and squirmed at the heat and mess it made on his shiny black shoes. He watched as they disappeared into the gently smoldering hole. “Bind to me Desmodontidae of the Underworld. Come to my command and be my supplicant. I offer you this sacrifice by blood and intestine. I call you to me, bind, bind, bind.”

  Nothing happened. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell and the mess the sacrifice had made. Before him was the perch he had prepared for the bat. He stamped his feet, getting cold now where the blood on his legs was starting to cool. “Damn it,” he shouted. Then, with all his force, he shouted, “Bind to me Desmodontidae of the Underworld. Come to my command and be my supplicant. I offer you this sacrifice by blood and intestine. I call you to me, bind, bind, bind.”

  A rushing of wind and air came from the pit, rising upwards. He stepped back, wary now, and unsure he would be able to control the beast. At last it burst from the pit, its translucent body leaping at him, claws drawn up in front. “Bind,” he shouted and sent the spell.

  The creature stopped and turned in mid-air, flying around for a second before alighting onto the perch. It tucked its wings to its sides and pointed its ratty nose at him. He was amazed at its size, almost as big as the girl lying lifeless behind him. He walked to her and cut off a chunk of meat from her stomach and threw it at the waiting bat.

  Snatching the offered morsel effortlessly from the air, the bat screeched at him.

  “Now then, what should we call you?” He sucked his fingers, licking the girl’s blood from them, deep in thought. “Yes, of course Fluffy.” He placed a nervous hand above Fluffy’s head and said, “Bind to me, bat from dimension below.”

  The bat turned and rubbed its papery skin along his hand, causing him to shudder in both revulsion and exhilaration. Fluffy had been a great asset, as well as being an eager retriever. He could also be used to dispose of the sacrifices. He would eat cooked liver, but preferred raw virgin.

  Robert realized he was stood in the middle of the damp lawn unmoving. He was reliving the raising of Fluffy, which was always a wonderful experience, but now he had to find food for Aldona. Typical woman, he thought. No favors without a meal. He continued across the grass, back towards the house.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alex gasped desperate breaths as he came back to life. His skin was frigid, his neck agonizing, and breath returned to his body in painful gulps. The air forced its way through parched lips, over a ravaged throat and dragged into sunken lungs. It brought him fully awake. He lay still and rested. He could feel the cold steel plate beneath his naked body. It was hard and unrelenting against his back. A thin sheet covered his face, shielding tender eyes from the harsh light of life. It also covered his naked form.

  The pain from his neck sent shivers coursing through him as shock and emotion took over. Gently, he wept. The face of beautiful Helen was large in his mind. He had seen her rush into the room just before he died. Her arms had been raised. Fear for him filled her enchanting eyes.

  Then he thought of Robert, and anger shocked through his body like an emergency team shocking him back to life. “Why?” he screamed at the empty room. The betrayal, he had never seen coming. He had not known Robert was his enemy. How had he become so powerful without any of them feeling it? Both he and Simon should have been able to detect the other man’s power. “Why?” he shouted again at the empty room. That question haunted him. What did Robert intend to gain from slaughtering Helen and him?

  Resting, he lay back on the cold steel. He must shut down his emotion, and be hard and uncompromising. All that mattered now was Jenny. He must recover quickly and find a way out of the morgue. His lovely Helen would be here somewhere, but for now he needed to find out what Robert was up to. The fool, if he knew the old laws, then surely he knew Alex was immortal, at least till his seventieth birthday. And this time, there would be no sacrifice. He had taken the life of one child, many years ago. Long before Helen. He would not do that again, could not endure the guilt.

  He needed blood. Human blood would give him more energy. He had to find out what Robert was up to and to fight him he would need to be strong.

  Pulling the sheet from his body, the cold air chilled his skin and seemed to sap his strength. Ignoring it, he looked around the dark morgue. Next to him Helen lay similarly sheeted, a smear of blood staining the cotton that covered her head.

  He swung his feet off the trolley, placing them on the cold floor, and walked across to his wife. His right hand reached out involuntarily, trembling slightly he touched the sheet covering her, the cotton smooth under his hand. He hesitated, and then drew the sheet down, exposing her face. Blonde hair coated in blood framed her milky white face. The top of her head was crusted with dried blood where the fatal blow had hit. His knees buckled, and he had to grab the trolley to stop from falling over. It moved away from him, and he struggled, desperate to stay upright. With revulsion, he let go of the trolley. It rolled away and stopped a few inches from him, her body rocking from the motion. Robert would pay for this.

  He cried out, reaching towards her, and then pulled his hand back. Her eyes were open, staring, their usual penetrating green was gone they were now opaque and lifeless. Alex touched her cheek. It was cold, clammy and starting to harden. “I’m sorry my love. I will avenge you.” He bent over, kissing her cheek, the smell of her perfume drifted up to meet him. He breathed it in, sucking the perfume in-to his being, before pulling the sheet back and covering her face. He walked away, feet slapping on the cold floor. He had to find clothes. Her perfume filled his senses. He rolled it around his mouth and nostrils, remembering that smell and the memories that went with it, savoring the anger it caused. He would need it soon.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Robert walked past the silver-grey Mercedes and around the side of the house to another garage. Pushing up the door, he entered without needing to turn on the light. Before him was a nondescript blue Omega, sitting in the neat and tidy room. He climbed into the car and checked his reflection. Not bad, he thought, maybe not a chick magnet, but at least I won’t scare anyone.

  He shuffled in the seat, still annoyed at Aldona’s prissy attitude. Where could he get food and big food at this time of night? Bloody women, why do they always cause such problems? He powered the car and pulled slowly out of the garage, rolling down the drive to the road. He kept the revs lo
w, the engine noise to a minimum, not wanting to wake Jenny. He smiled. The drug he popped in her whiskey should keep her quiet for the rest of the night, and probably most of tomorrow. The last thing he needed was her whining about that stupid dog, the damn thing had never liked him, and tonight it nearly gave the game away.

  Stopping at the end of the drive, he looked left and right, peering past the hawthorn hedges to see out into the road. No traffic. He turned the car left onto the street, heading away from Louth, towards Grimsby.

  He had to find food for the Aldona, miffed that the meal he had planned so carefully was not enough. Typical woman, always wants more. He chuckled

  He doubted Louth would be big enough for anyone to be out at this time, but the night life in Grimsby was a little more adventurous. He rubbed his eyes and eased his hand over his neck. The muscles were beginning to stiffen with fatigue.

  He settled into the seat. The car smelt of a combination of lemon cleaner with the underlying musty scent from his previous excursion. He wrinkled his nose with distaste and opened the window. The cool night air rushed in and chased away the odors, refreshing him as he steered the car along the quiet country roads. There was very little traffic. Most people were tucked up warm in their beds, lucky buggers.

  He reached forward and turned on the radio. It was tuned to an all night country station and, delighted, he sang along to the man in black. His mood was lifting as the music worked its magic.

  Grimsby was a fifteen minute drive, and soon he was cruising the back streets, where people would not be missed, he would not be seen, or better still, he would be ignored if he was. He did a quick tour of the seafront, but there was no one about, just a couple walking a dog in the distance. No more dogs, not tonight. They were too much trouble.

  The first group he came across was two couples, all drunk. They staggered up the road, laughing raucously. It was a well lit street and they were a tight knit group. Too much bother, he thought. The large men could pose a risk. He turned away from the discos and headed to the red light area. He switched off the radio, not wanting to be heard.

  As he travelled close to the docks, the sea air drifted into the car. He tasted salt on his lips and could smell the sea, breathing it deep into his lungs, but there was something else, a less friendly smell, like diesel fuel from the many ships that travelled to these busy docks.

  He moved out of the industrial zone to where it bordered the housing. The streets here were more rundown. Tatty gardens, with boarded up houses and rubbish everywhere. Every fifth streetlight was out. Perfect he thought. Not too much light and people who will look the other way. He cruised for a few streets before the first hookers came into view. He felt the smile spread across his face, slowing down as he drove past. No good. The girls were barely seventeen, skinny, with lank unwashed hair. Still, their mini-skirt clad bodies caused his grin to widen. One of the girls bent low to allow him a view of her thong before he passed. He laughed, licking his moist lips.

  Turning right, at the end of the street, his excitement built as he saw the huge girl in front of him. She was probably forty-five, sat on a stool, legs parted. Her huge body slopped over the edges of the support that looked as if it could barely hold her. Her calves were as big as the previous girl’s waist. Perfect. He accelerated and guided the car over to her. Tired blue eyes looked through the window at him. Her face was badly made up, with rouged chubby cheeks, too much mascara and bright red lips.

  “What you after love?” she asked.

  “How much for a couple of hours in the car?”

  Her huge body was dressed in black Lycra, accentuating, rather than hiding her rolls of fat. The skirt finished just at the top of her thighs, the low cut top showed her magnificent bosom. Black fishnet stockings completed the look. Whereas black was slimming on most people, on her it seemed to emphasize her size.

  She smiled. “£80, but we stay local.”

  “I’ll give you three hundred if I can drive out into the countryside, romance you a little.” Robert smiled innocently.

  She eyed him, weighing up the risk. He looked like an accountant, not much trouble, and his face wore the grin of a kid let loose in a sweet shop.

  “Okay.” She struggled up and folded the stool. Robert rushed around opening the car door for her, bowing mockingly as he helped her in.

  He took the stool from her, and placed it in the back of the car.

  “Smelly in here, duck,” she said.

  He closed her door and walked back to the driver’s seat. “Let’s go,” he said and turned the car away from the curb.

  “I’m Mary what’s your name?”

  He grinned delighted that she would want to know, but as her streetwise eyes searched his he felt a flush rising up his neck and into his face. “I’m Robert, or you can call me Bob.” She laughed and he could see she felt in control. That would soon change.

  “Okay Bob,” she said. “Where’s the cash mate, and what’s your registration number?”

  “My what?”

  “Your reg. number.” She pulled a mobile from her bag, looking at him expectantly. “I text it to a mate, you know for safety.”

  Robert looked around. The street was empty, so he pulled the car over and turned to face her.

  The smile had left her face, her eyes flicked with nerves, not sure what he had in mind.

  “Look lovey, I’ve changed me mind. I’ll get out here.” She reached for the door handle.

  Robert pressed his arm on the locking mechanism. A click secured all the doors. She reached around to pull the switch up on her side, to find it wasn’t there. There was just a hole in the door where it should be. She tried the handle, pushing against the door with her bulk desperate to be out of the car. The door did not budge. She pulled the handle, frantic now, bouncing hard on the locked door.

  Robert laughed, and then slapped her head, causing her to turn towards him, shocked. He grabbed the mobile, pulling it easily from her podgy, sweaty fingers. He wound down the widow and threw the phone out. Watching as it landed on the tarmac, cracking open to lie forlorn in the dark.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice was strong, with anger more than fear.

  “I’m going to kill you, but slowly. It may take a week. How much for that?” He smiled his best Jack Nicholson smile.

  “What, are you mad?” She launched at him, fists flying at his face, fingers, gouging for his eyes. He covered his head with his left arm and reached down into the car’s side door pocket with his right. Laughing as the blows bounced off his arm, he brought the hypodermic out from the side pocket, swinging it towards her. Ducking the blows, he brought the needle under her arms and into the considerable bulk of her stomach. She squealed as the point sank into her skin and he could feel her reaching down to try and pull it out.

  Robert pushed the plunger, squirting the liquid into her, and then sat back to watch.

  She grabbed the needle, pulling it out, holding it in front of her. She looked at the hypodermic with shock and confusion on her portly face. Turning towards him her mouth open, and the needle held out before her, she collapsed forward her head banging onto the dash board.

  Robert laughed. He pulled her off the dashboard with her hair, grunting at her weight. He dropped her back against the car seat, hard. She stayed there, eyes open, head leaning to the right, tongue lolling out. He leaned across to fasten her seat belt, his face thrust into her voluptuous breasts. He pushed his nose into her warm milky mounds. “Ehrm, very nice.” Sitting up, he looked into her eyes. Reaching forward, he tenderly pushed her tongue back inside her mouth, squeezing the lips closed. He couldn’t resist nipping them, hard, causing a spot of blood to appear. He grabbed the seat belt, pulling it over her considerable belly and snapping it firmly into place. “There,” he said. “We don’t want to be pulled up for flaunting the seat belt law.”

  He put on his own belt and steered the car back into the street.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Alex wandered down the morg
ue’s cold, dark corridors, searching. His feet slapped on the hard, chill floor and the noise seemed to echo before him, announcing his presence. But to who? The building was empty. He knew it was late, but it seemed unnatural so and set his already ragged nerves on edge as he checked each room. His naked body had risen in goose bumps, and his bare feet resounded on the hard, icy, grey vinyl floor. The rooms he came to were large and deserted, so at least he didn’t have to hide.

  He found the restrooms and approached the sinks. Looking into the mirror, his reflection shocked him. A haggard face stared back at him over a ravaged neck. He was barely recognizable. With a sharp breath he switched on the hot tap, allowing the water to half fill the bowl. The noise sounded deafening as it echoed in the empty room. He scooped up handfuls of the warm water and splashed his face and neck. The water turned red as it washed dried blood back into the basin. It was immensely soothing against his chilled skin, and he closed his eyes, relishing the moment.

  He leant on the ceramic bowl, grounded by the solid feel and letting the water run down his face and drip back into the water. He looked up and caught his eye and grief hit him like a sucker punch from Ali. He dropped to his knees and let out an agonized wail. Tears wanted to fall. He wanted to cry for his lost love, to scream and to wail. Instead, he fought it all back and opened his eyes. With a shaky hand he inspected the wound at his neck. The cut, once so hideous, had closed to some extent. Instead of a huge gash, he now had a red welt. Two inches of inflamed scar tissue that bulged out from his neck. The wound still hurt and his throat felt like he had drunk battery acid. But he was recovering and rapidly, though he knew to fully recover he needed blood.