Flee

by Caroline Gebbie

  He brought his mind back to the present problem, looking across at Jenny. She was motionless in the seat next to him. He pulled the car over into a lay-by and switched off the engine. He turned towards her. “Well darling, we need to talk.” He had his left leg lifted up onto the driver’s seat, his head on his arm, and a studious expression on his face. “Please don’t fight me. I will force you to talk if I need to, but that will be painful, we don’t want that now do we.” He raised his eyebrows, grinning as if this was a big conspiracy between them. Lips pursed, he nodded. “Yeah, Yeah.” Waving his hand, he said, “Dimittam lingua vestra.”

  ***

  Jenny felt her jaw relax. She was able to move it, and she worked the muscles, rolling her tongue around in her mouth. She tested her neck. It was still frozen, along with her arms, shoulders and the rest of her body. “I have to visit the bathroom.” She knew this was weak, but it was the best she could think of.

  “Good, the sooner we get to Simon’s the better then. By the way, if you pee in my car I may get antsy.” He laughed and waved a finger back and forward at her. “You must ask Doris about a funny story about wanting a wee. Oh sorry, you won’t see her again.”

  “Damn it, Robert, I trusted you. What have you done?”

  He shoved his fingers into his mouth, eyes rolling back in his head and mimicking her voice. “Oh, Robert, what have you done?” Returning to his own voice, and removing his hands, he grabbed her throat, crushing the larynx. Squeezing tight, he watched as the blood rushed out of her face, leaving her as white as paper. She gasped against his fingers, tears forming in her eyes. “Done? What have I done? I want to live forever, just like your dad.” He pushed her away from him, watching as the color returned to her face. She coughed and spluttered, the noise sounding strange from her immobile form.

  “Besides,” he said, “Look at my nose and teeth from that stupid dog of yours. I wish I had thrown the flea bitten mutt down the pit. I only kept her to feed to Fluffy.”

  He looked out of the window, fighting to control his anger. “Now, your birthday is tomorrow at two a.m. We have plenty of time, but those pesky people will be coming after us. Damn it, you will tell me where to go.” His face was red as he leaned away from her, knowing he was close to breaking. If he lost his temper and killed her now, it would be a disaster. He had done that once, when he brought a small, shivering girl back to the cellar. She had taken one look at Fluffy and had started to scream. And scream and scream and scream. He had shaken her, threatened her. Finally losing his temper, he struck out, knocking her back, and she landed on a metal bar. It was part of the structure he was constructing at the time, the cross piece not yet in place. The bar had impaled her through her left side. The look on her face still sent shivers down his spine. It was delicious. Of course, he had been unable to sacrifice her, but still he remembered.

  The shock as the two inch bar punched through her flesh. Her eyes flew open, a scream ripped from her throat. Slowly she had fallen further onto that bar. She had looked up at him, her eyes begging him to help. He watched as she slipped down the bar, inch by bloody inch. Saw the blood burst from her mouth, splashing down on her face as her left lung was pierced. She had scrabbled frantically with her arms, trying to reach the bar.

  He sat cross-legged, watching, a huge grin on his face, his hand resting on his erect penis, teasing it each time she slipped a little further.

  It had taken her almost an hour to die, her pleas getting weaker the further she slipped down that bar. Eventually, she was on the floor, her legs bent underneath, and her arms still weakly trying to prevent the inevitable. Towards the end, her words burbled as she drowned in her own blood, he was surprised she never cried. She screamed for England, but there was not one single tear.

  Once she was dead, he had rushed from the cellar, grabbing Sophie from the living room. He had thrown her onto the bed and screwed her brains out imagining the face of the little girl in the cellar. He had been insatiable, having to hold Sophie with magic to allow him to pound into her again and again. After he had finished, she was sore and bleeding. He covered up his damage by giving her a dose of cystitis. He always felt sexy after a death. His wife would not agree with some of his more deviant practices, but with a little magical encouragement and a little memory spell, she was smoking.

  He had kept the bar there for several months, trying all different animals out on it, but nothing could recreate the feeling the little lost girl had given him. Closing his eyes for an instant, he thanked her.

  At last calm, he returned to Jenny. “Tell me or I’ll force you, and it will hurt.”

  “You have to be kidding. You can kill me first.”

  “No, I will kill you after.” He laughed at his own humor. “Silentium,” he whispered. Looking towards her, he concentrated, focusing his thoughts on her mind and Simon’s address. He saw the sweat appear on her skin, pinpricks of moisture that burst and rolled down her face as he applied more pressure to her mind.

  She struggled against him, keeping him out for long seconds. He could feel her screams of pain inside his head. He tried to ignore them and applied more pressure, his own brows knit tight with the effort. She was singing in her head, some stupid song about that dog, one hundred brindle boxer dogs sitting on a wall, if one brindle boxer dog should accidentally fall...

  He pushed harder, ninety-nine, brindle boxer dogs… Even harder. Sweat was pouring off his own skin, running down his face. It tickled.

  Ninety-eight, brindle boxer dogs sitting on a …

  He gave one huge push, and she screamed inside and he got it. A map appeared in his mind. Around the bypass, yes, he knew the road. It should be easy to find. And remote, if the geeks don’t work out where he was going, no one would disturb them.

  He pulled out, relief flooding his face. Just as he did so, he felt her slip into unconsciousness. “At last, peace.”

  He released his hold on her. She was out cold, and he could rest a while, rebuilding his energy whilst she slept.

  He turned around into the driver’s seat looking out at the sleeping city before him. It was a pretty place at night, the cathedral’s three towers dominating the landscape. Illuminated by floodlights they were a magnificent sight. Taking a deep breath and still tasting blood from that bloody dog, he pushed the gear lever into drive. Steering the car back out onto the road, they were soon speeding towards the bypass and then on to Wyleford Woods.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Robert drove from the map in his mind, slowing his speed on the country lanes. He passed a garden centre on his left and approached a ninety degree bend to the right. Behind it was a house, stark white on the shores of a lake. It looked lonely, deserted. He was on a straight. Neat hawthorn hedges on each side of the road focused the powerful headlights of the Mercedes and he increased his speed, surprised at how good the map in his mind was. They would soon be there and, with any luck, the meddling threesome would still be statues in his house. He giggled, imagining the scene if the police arrived to find them standing rock solid. That would get the old plod thinking.

  They sped across a crossroads and approached a village. Village, he thought laughing. It was just a few houses. He stabbed the breaks and the bonnet dipped in response. They were getting close. He had to take the third turn on the right, then down a single track lane to the left. One he counted as the car sped past a small road, two slowing, not far now. Ahead he saw a tiny road sign. A white post, stuck alone in the ground with an arm pointing right. The arm bore the words Wyleford in black letters. “At last,” he said, feeling himself relax. They were so close. He slowed and turned the car into a narrow road. Glancing at the dashboard clock, he noticed it was five minutes past midnight. He had two hours. He kept the car at a slower pace, as the road was not only narrow but bumpy.

  He was looking for a road to the left. He thought it would be a private road, down to Simon’s house only. The road before him twisted, and snaked away down a gentle hill. He could not see any turnings
off. He looked at Jenny for a second. Could the bitch have tricked him? No, he had felt her fight. Had felt the information ripped from her. It was similar to a wet tearing. He relished the feeling. It was as if he had ripped a piece of her brain from her head. He had felt it clinging on, finally pulling away with a liquid sucking sound, a squelch and rip that had thrilled him. The information so desperate to cling on had finally left her brain. It floated into his own mind, wet and slippery like ten day old meat. He had savored it, devoured it. He was sure the information was real.

  At last he saw a gap in the hedges just ahead, and he slammed on the breaks, the Mercedes nose diving to a halt.

  He waited before the entrance, engine idling. He could see nothing down the narrow twisting track. It rose away from the road, and there was a shadow at the edge of the cars powerful headlights.

  Cautious, he steered onto the track. Ahead of him the path sloped up to some woods. They looked dark and impenetrable from his viewpoint.

  He drove the car slowly, concentrating. He could not feel any danger, but there was no light emerging from the woods. Slowly, he approached the dark mass. He could see where the tarmac entered the forest, but his headlights did not penetrate far beyond its shadowy border.

  A dark, ominous fortress stood before him, huge pine trees standing sentinel to the entrance. Just as the car was about to enter the forest, rain began to fall, creating a mist across his windscreen. Robert jumped, cursing himself and then laughed. It was just nerves. He drove in. The road bent around to the right, the car lighting up pine trees on either side. A rabbit ran out of the undergrowth, caught for a second in his headlights before hopping across in front of the car and disappearing into the trees. He felt disappointment that he could not have squashed the creature beneath the Mercedes’ huge wheels.

  Trees lined each side of the car, their bulk preventing him from seeing far into the forest. Their huge trunks were inches from the path, the bark split and cracked with age and weather. He followed the bend, beginning to see a lighter shade in front of him where the woods opened into a clearing.

  He drove the car out of the trees, releasing a breath. He had not realized how tense the trees had made him, it was almost as if they stood guard and he felt from them an ominous presence. He laughed. His imagination was really getting the better of him. The Aldona could use animals to attack someone but even she could not set the forest against him and soon he would be her initiate, she would protect him and give him her strength her immortality.

  Rain fell onto the roof, a steady stream now. He could hear it hitting the car as they exited the protection of the forest. The Mercedes single wiper blade cleared his view with each rhythmic sweep.

  Before him was a wonderful sight. He drew in another breath, shocked at the beauty.

  Simon’s house was built in 1820. Constructed of over burnt bricks with the window frames of rough cut oak, it was a magnificent period house, all the more appealing because of its slightly sinister appearance. The mansion was set on huge rolling lawns, some of which were illuminated by the idling Mercedes headlights. The two outer edges of the house were surrounded by huge rhododendrons. Though not in bloom, their lush green foliage added atmosphere.

  He pushed the accelerator, moving the car towards the house. He could feel excitement building inside him. This was his destiny. Aldona must have arranged this, because from today he intended to live in this mansion. A shiver of excitement ran down his spine as the car drew nearer. In front of the house was a parking area. He continued around the side and approached the door. It was amazingly small, set in the middle of the building and surrounded by plants. He recognized persimmons, roses and a few hostas in the border. Glancing forward, he followed the drive along the front of the house. In front of him the grass sloped down to a lake, with a willow tree weeping its branches into the silvered waters. Another thrill of delight shocked through him.

  He turned the wheel to go around the side of the house. As he turned he noticed that the front was a façade, and that the house behind was much more modern. Better and better, he thought, even mod cons.

  He was eager to enter the house and find the seal, but he could feel his strength failing. A huge yawn spread across his face, straining his jaw as he pulled the Mercedes to a halt. Shoving it into park, he turned off the engine and removed the keyless key. He glanced at Jenny, but she was out. He tenderly moved a lock of blond hair from near her right eye. Smoothing her brow, he watched her for a second. She was sleeping. She should not be a problem for a while. Still best be safe, he thought “Tenere.”

  He decided to rest, to build up his own strength just for twenty minutes before searching for Simon’s seal.

  Leaning back, he reclined his seat and closed his eyes.

  ***

  Jenny felt his hand, brush her forehead. She wanted to scream but remained still. She had been awake for the past few minutes and had recognized Simon’s house instantly. She could hear Robert as he settled down in the seat. His breathing in the enclosed car seemed loud, but gradually the tone changed as he slipped into sleep.

  She tried to move, tensing her muscles in her head, but nothing happened. Her head was pounding and the extra effort sent a knife-like pain through her temple. Resting she waited another few minutes and tried again, and this time her left foot moved slightly. She could feel her shoe scraping across the carpet.

  Excited, she kept trying, ignoring the headache and the sweat that ran off her brow. As his breathing slowed, his spell weakened and she was able to move just a little bit more. Eventually she could move her leg, and at last her lips moved. She almost laughed with relief, stopping the sound at the last second. She listened, keeping still. Robert’s breathing did not change. If she could move, she could get away from him. She knew the area well, could walk to the next village or hide in the woods until after her birthday. She only needed to keep away from him for one and a half hours. Even better, she could smash open his skull with a hammer, and make him pay for killing her mum. A tear slid down her face, but she managed to blink it away. Gradually he was losing control as he slept.

  She worked her toes and legs, each time getting a little more feeling into them. The pain in her head now was almost unbearable. She let out a breath, wanting to touch her head, but as yet her arms would not move. She relaxed, resting for a second, watching the rain fall onto the windscreen, running down and coating the car.

  Robert was still breathing slow and even, and she could feel her legs move. She could raise her knees now. Next she worked on her arms, concentrating on them, feeling as they started to move. Just a twitch at first, but gradually she lifted her left arm. Reaching for the door handle, her hand slipped off and landed on her leg. She screamed inside with the effort to pull the hand back up, and this time it caught on the handle. She pulled. Feeling the catch, she pulled back even further. The door cracked open, the pressure changing in the car and a refreshing mist drifting into the gap. She waited, still, listening, his breathing did not change.

  She leaned on the door. Her body was stiff and tumbled out as the door opened with a rush. She fell onto the concrete, banging her head, but the spell was released. She rubbed her head and winced at the pain. The rain was cold on her body, its chill mobilized her. She climbed to her feet, stiff but excited, the pain in her head forgotten. She had to hide quickly to get as far from the car as she could. She turned away from it, tensing to run.

  “Hello dear,” said Robert. He punched her straight in the face. The blow contacted with her right eye, knocking her out. Robert grabbed her arm to prevent her head hitting the concrete. He dragged her towards the house, her trainers sliding across the concrete.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The Audi sped through the night carrying the three companions. An uneasy quiet had settled on the car as each of them fought the twin demons of guilt and regret. The past haunted each of them in different ways. Doris wanted to turn back the years and find a way to tell her secret and the two men relived their
own sacrifice. Alex remembered the rage he felt as he murdered his son. Rage because he had failed to prevent him killing and rage because he had failed him as a father. Simon remembered the pain his daughter had felt and her begging him to take her life. He knew he should have denied her and let her die gently in bed with a handful of painkillers. But once she had insisted that he gain his youth from her death it had become an obsession to him. He had hated himself for what he did, but he could not have stopped it even if she had begged him. Luckily for him she didn’t. She wanted him to take her life and to live again. He eased his guilt with the knowledge that he had done good with his extra years. He had worked for charities and helped as many people as he could, but still sometimes he felt evil.

  Torrential rain assaulted the windscreen as they headed through the countryside towards Lincoln. Alex concentrated hard on keeping clear air around the speeding car. He gritted his teeth, and his eyes stared without blinking but the focusing had given him a headache and he knew his power was weakening with every mile.

  He glanced across at Simon. The mage slept fitfully against the window while his body healed with miraculous speed. Scars would mar his looks for some time, but at least his bones were covered. His bottom lip, though not quite grown back, was looking less like a salted slug. Alex knew the mental scars would take longer to heal. If they ever do, he knew his own nightmares would never leave him. He pulled his mind back to the road and getting to Wyleford Woods in time to save Jenny. They had about three hours before the ceremony, but if anything should go wrong... He stopped himself. That thought would only take his mind off the road. But what if they had not come this way? “Please no,” he whispered as a sliver of fear ran down his spine.