“Hey, this cunt’s got a fucking machine gun, I’m having that!”
Michael gently squeezed the trigger, moaning in pain as the recoil slammed into his shoulder. At such close range, the rounds literally turned the boy’s face into raw burger meat. Blood, pieces of splintered skull and lumps of grey matter splattered against the wall. He rolled on the floor and fired again, this time into the desk, hoping some of them would find their targets. He heard one howl as his magazine ran dry, before somebody on the other side returned fire.
He saw two pairs of feet run towards the desk at the same time he’d dropped the now empty gun. Michael cursed his slow body. The cursing grew more intense when a rough hand reached over the surface and found his hair. He yelled out in agony as the man wrenched him onto his feet. The other one had already jumped over and was in the process of trying to pull his remaining side arm out of Michael’s belt.
Cold metal pressed against his temple.
“You utter cunt!” snarled thing. That’s not supposed to happen; you’re not supposed to kill any of us!”
Michael allowed the boy to pull the gun out of the belt before he kicked him hard between the legs, betting the boy wouldn’t react fast enough to pull that trigger. He dropped to the floor and grabbed the assault rifle and swung it backwards. The butt caught the boy’s gun and ripped it out of his hands. Michael snatched up his stolen gun and cracked it over the head of the boy he’d just kicked. He dropped like a stone.
“This isn’t going how you planned it, is it?” He looked down at the sprawled boy, blood from his head wound dribbled down the side of his head. Michael pointed his gun at the inert boy.”
“Oh god, no! Please don’t. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please, don’t do this. Don’t kill him!”
“It’s a clean kill,” he whispered before pulling the trigger. Michael didn’t have to witness the devastation to know another one had just joined his pal in the realm of the dead. He turned his attention to his remaining so called bad boy. Judging from the foul stench coming from thing’s pants, he’d just shit himself. He nodded towards the stairs. “You had better go.”
“What, you’re letting me go?”
Michael shook his head.“Of course I am. I think you’ve learned your lesson,” he said, smiling.
“Oh God, thank you, I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you earlier. I tell you, from now on I…”
He pressed the muzzle under the man’s chin and emptied the magazine. “I’m sorry about lying to you, just then. I couldn’t do you earlier. Your stress levels were way too high.”
Through the hot stench of cordite that competed with so much human fluid, Michael detected something very familiar. Oh fuck, no please. Don’t do this to me. He spun around, trying to locate the source of the new smell, the smell of his wife’s perfume.
“Jodie!” he yelled, “Where are you?” Michael ran over to the open doorway, his rage boiling over. Whatever fugue that had turned his muscles into sludge was already forgotten. Even if the entropy was still in place, it wouldn’t have dared to block his fucking path.
“Up here, sweetie!” yelled a male voice.
Michael spun around and saw the main torturer standing at the top of the stairs. Trevor's wife, Fern shielded the fat fucker. He’d looped a steel cord around the woman’s neck. “If you dare hurt her, I’ll skin you alive.”
The man chuckled. “Oh yeah, that’s a good one. Have you any idea how difficult that particular task is? The skinning part isn’t that difficult, as long as your blade is sharp enough and you have a steady hand. The trick is to do it quick enough before they pass out and die from blood loss” He growled when Michael ran towards the foot of the steps. “Yeah, because that’s a good idea!” he shouted.
Michael skidded to a stop when the torturer dug his nails in Fern's shoulder and pushed her to the edge of the top step. His other hand tightened on the rope.
“Guess what happens if you come any closer, Mr Dogshit! Put your guns on the floor right fucking now.”
Michael couldn’t do as the insane freak demanded. If he did that, he would have signed their death warrants. They’d both be shackled to the walls in less than an hour. He looked into the woman's terrified eyes, silently hoping she’d forgive him in the next life. Michael couldn’t allow that monster to hurt her, no matter the cost. “A clean kill,” he sobbed, raising his gun.
“So, you think it's clever to hit an old man from behind, do you?” whispered a voice in Michael's ear. “Don't feel so fucking clever now.”
Michael gritted his teeth as his gun was wrenched out of his hands. He looked up at Fern and mouthed he was sorry. How fucking stupid was he? Michael had seen that old man go through that door. Fuck, the guy must have seen everything, it's not like he'd been that quiet about the killings. “Let me go now, and you won't die later,” he snarled.
The old man let out a loud chuckle. “Oh, that's a good one.” He forced Michael forward, onto the steps. “I'm going to enjoy when the man up there rip out your insides. I might even be able to taste your lovely wife too.”
The old man thrust his tongue into Michael's ear.
“You bring him a little closer,” said the torturer.”I want to see up close what our friends were so scared of.”
The old man jabbed something hard into the base of Michael's spine and pushed him further up the steps. “Come on, you heard the man, move it!”
Fern was almost within touching distance. “Are you and Jodie okay?”
“Stop fucking talking!” screamed the torturer.
Fern managed to nod once before the man holding her slammed a fist into the side of her face. Michael spun around and booted the shocked man hard in the guts before running up the remaining steps. He took Fern in his arms and wrapped his fingers around the metal cord, then pulled it. The man holding the other end was jerked forward.
“Fern, kick back, kick back right fucking now, girl!”
The man behind her ran straight into Fern's high heels. He screamed out and released the cord. Michael jumped to the side and slammed his foot into the fat man's ankle. He so wanted to kill this fucker right now, but Michael knew time was still against them. He booted him again before grabbing the woman's hand.
“Where is Jodie, honey?”
Fern looked into his face, fat tears streaked her cheeks. “I don't know,” she blurted. “They separated us hours ago. I've been in the room all alone until a few minutes ago. Michael, oh God, what is this place?”
The old man's crumpled body lay at the bottom of the stairs, beside Michael's gun. He loosened the cord and gently pulled it off her neck. “You really don't want to know, hun. Let's get you out of here.”
“What about Jodie?”
“I'll find her, don't you fret about that.” He pulled her past the fat man, still curled up in the foetal position on the carpet and helped her down the steps. When he reached the bottom, Michael took both of her hands. “You need to listen to me now, honey. I want you to get to the car, climb inside and lock the doors. Don't open them for anybody but me, do you understand?”
She nodded. “Please find her?”
Michael leaned down and snatched his gun from the floor. “I'm not leaving without my Jodie,” he growled. Michael pointed the gun at the old man. “Now go, get out of here. Let me finish this.”
“Wait, good God, are you going to kill him?”
The old man's panic-stricken gaze swapped from him to Fern. “Please, miss. Don't let him murder me?” He got down onto his knees, clasped his hands tight and bowed his head. “Please don't kill me. I'm so sorry!” The man slowly looked up, his pleading eyes finding Michael. “I had no choice, they made me do it. Please, you have got to believe me!”
Michael's finger moved off the trigger. He turned around, intending to tell Fern to get out of here. His words dried up when he saw somebody else standing behind the woman. He spun his gun around. “Get on the floor!” he roared.
Fern then arched her back, shrieking out in utte
r agony. Michael watched, open mouthed as the front of the woman's blouse erupted in vivid red, the colour spreading out across the material. The figure behind her giggled softly. Michael looked up, watching this beautiful wild-haired woman, wearing a filthy dressing gown pull out a thin, long-bladed knife from out of Fern's back. The woman rested the tip of the knife on Fern's shoulder.
Amazingly Fern was still alive, she looked into Michael's eyes. He saw pain, and confusion, Michael also thought he saw betrayal. That all this was his fault. “Please,” he whispered, “don't do this, let her go!”
The woman giggled again then thrust the blade down. Michael roared again. Just as a pair of arms circled his chest. His finger tightened on the trigger and the gun fired, the round slamming into the woman's guts.
He jerked his head back, making contact with the old man's nose. Michael felt the grip on him loosen just enough to slam an elbow into his attacker's flesh. The old man fell back. He dropped down, grabbed the man's ears and lifted his head up before crashing it back down. “You cunt!” he shouted, “you bastard, fuck!” Michael continued to hit the man's skull against the edge of the step, he felt the bone crack open but this only enraged him more. Michael only stopped at the sound of that banshee letting out another giggle.
Michael got to his feet, absently wiped his gore-covered hands down the side of his trousers and turned around. The fat man was no longer lying on the top of the stairs and the insane woman had gone too, leaving him alone, standing in the reception hall littered with dead bodies.
6
Katie stood next to the open door, peering into a dark room. She saw a few high backed chairs, a wooden table and a jigsaw puzzle box leaning against the wall. This door was closed when she past here, after fleeing from Greg James. Pamela and Maddie had already gone inside, telling her to wait for them to come back. So much for not splitting up. They hadn't stopped fussing over her since leaving the shed, their attitude towards Katie had dramatically changed since she'd put paid to Jack Williams. Maddie's behaviour was the most obvious. She leaned forward and clutched her guts. Every so often, she received another twinge to remind her that something in there definitely still wasn't back in place.
Maddie no longer looked to her as an equal anymore. It was as if her murdering ability had elevated Katie to almost hero worship. It sounded so stupid, but it really did feel like that. She sighed loudly, wondering if Maddie had truly understood the messages that the three of them had received. Pamela, on the other hand, now treated her with even more aloof. She'd seemed to have slipped even further into her shell. Katie remembered what the girl had said about the crush she'd had on the cafe owner. Christ, that was a surprise. She'd never given any indication before then. Then again, how was that a shock? Pamela wasn't exactly known for giving away how she felt, it was one of the reasons why she almost always won at cards.
That was it, Katie couldn't stay out here any longer. They were supposed to all be doing a job, all of them, together. She entered the room, running her fingers across the wall as she made her way towards the open door, and the only source of light.
As she approached the door, the stench of raw meat, coupled with excrement assaulted her nostrils. Katie clamped a hand over her nose before peering through the door. She saw nothing that indicted where the vile smells were coming from. All she saw were half a dozen empty tables. There were two more open doors at the back of the dining room. She took one step across the threshold, jumping in shock when the outer door slammed shut behind her.
Katie tried to suppress the nagging thought that she was now trapped in here, that she was the mouse who'd just sprung the trap. She walked over to the first door, while keeping her hand firmly pressed against her nose. The vile smell was now strong enough to make her eyes water.
“Pamela,” she hissed, peering around the door. Katie saw nothing out of place. It looked like any other large kitchen. There was certainly no sign of the other two. “Where the bloody hell have you gone to?” Oh Christ, this was so not good. Where were they? What was she going to do now? “Fuck! I should have stayed outside.”
“Yes, I think you probably should, Katie.”
Her sister walked through the other door. She pulled out a chair from under one of the tables and sat down. Pamela smiled. She didn't look like the same person who'd asked Katie to stay by the door. There was something very different about the girl.
“Where's Maddie?”
“Don't you worry about her, dear sister,” she replied. That smile had yet to leave the girl's face. She tapped out a staccato upon the wooden surface. “Thing is, although I suffered through the same horror as you and Maddie, I kinda had some prior warning. It made me look at everything in a different light to you.”
“What are you talking about?” Katie took a step closer, then suddenly stopped when she saw her sister wasn't alone. Lurking just beyond that door was another figure, and it wasn't her best friend. “I'll ask you one more time, where the fuck is Maddie?”
The girl's smile widened. Katie now understood exactly what was wrong with this picture. Her sister was the most straight-faced individual she had ever known. There was more chance of the sky turning bright green than seeing Pamela break into a grin.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Katie watched as a woman walked into the room. It was Joyce Belmont! The older woman placed her hands protectively on her sister's shoulders. She couldn't believe this, a fucking Belmont was holding Pamela like she was the best of friends!
Katie quietly moaned when another figure appeared through the door. Joyce's husband nodded at Katie before he took up position next to his wife.
“I'm sorry, sister, but I have no intention of spending the next eternity, wandering through the afterlife in a state of terminal misery. There's going to be no redemption for any of us, Katie. They told us lies, it was all a bunch of thinly veiled bullshit, designed to help the man from the farmhouse put a stop to all of this.” She held out her hands. “Why don't you join us, Katie?” She raised her head and smiled at the woman standing behind her. “That man will kill the present owners. That much I am certain.”
“What is this? Come here, Pamela. I don't know what they've said to you, nor do I care.” She glared at the woman and pulled her knife out from the back of her jeans. “Come over here, Pamela.”
“So you can what? Butcher her like you did to Jack? You fucking idiot, why can't you see the truth? We're all damned, every single one of us. When we die, we'll all be going to hell. It's inevitable.”
“Where's Maddie?”
Joyce laughed. She then clicked her fingers and her husband carefully placed something into the woman's hand. Katie moaned again. It was the gun she'd given to her friend.
“She's gone to hell, honey.” The woman pointed the gun at Katie's head. “Do you want to join her?”
“Listen to me, Katie,” implored her sister. There's another way. The others, the ones who killed all those people, they didn't go to the afterlife when they died. The ones who created this have protected them. Don't you see? When the man kills the two present owners, their souls will still live on. There'll be no hell for them, the creators will see to that. They'll be rewarded for all entirety.” Pamela scraped the chair back. She stood up and walked over to Katie, still smiling. The girl grabbed Katie's hand. “Let me show you something.” Pamela took her over to the open door. The other two stood aside. “You see, it isn't that difficult.”
Katie dropped her knife, her mind unable to process the vile scene before her. Several blood-soaked bodies were piled up against the far wall. Somewhere at the back of her head a calm voice casually informed Katie that they were the origin of the stench. She followed the trail of crimson guts back to the centre of the room to where her best friend lay.
“What have you fucking done to her, you monsters?” she wept.
“We killed her. I thought that was obvious,” replied her sister. “We had to make sure you couldn't hear her screams, that's why my pink sock is still in
her mouth. It can stay there too, there's no way I can wear that again, not after she vomited on it.”
“It'll wash out,” replied Joyce.
“Can you see the marks on the back of her ankles? I did that. It turned out that Terry Bakersfield had a knife concealed upon his person. That's one thing I can thank our stranger for. With Terry dead, my life will be a little easier now. Anyway, once I stabbed her in the legs a few times, I stood on her hands while Joyce held Maddie's legs. It was Joyce's husband who pushed that heavy table onto her stomach. He pulled it onto two legs leaned it over her then just let it go. She made such a strange noise when the edge of the table smacked into her guts. Kind of like a whooshing sound.”
“She was our friend, you insane, evil bitch!” sobbed Katie. She averted her eyes from the now deformed shape of her best friend, not wanting to remember poor Maddie like this. “Oh Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“You know, Pamela, I'm not certain that it was puke that bubbled around your sock. I reckon that the table must have pushed up her fucked insides into her throat. All that stuff is probably bits of lung and pieces of her intestine.” Joyce pushed past Katie and leaned against the now returned table. “Jack so enjoyed your body, you know.” The woman ran the tip of her tongue across her lips. “And, I dare say, my husband enjoyed watching you please him. The occasions where we watched did make our coffee and biscuits a little more digestible. Your darling sister here, begged us to allow you to join us, arguing that your skill in the kitchen would somehow benefit us.” Joyce looked past her and displayed the briefest of nods.
Her husband lunged at Katie, his fingers clutching at her ankle. He pulled her back, laughing as she crashed onto the carpet. Her previous discomfort ignited, sending out bolts of fiery agony through her stomach. She brought up her knees and rocked, wishing all of this was just another one of those visions.
“Oh, I see you're not too keen on rising. That's okay by me.”
“No, please. Don't shoot her!”
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