The BIG Horror Pack 1

by Iain Rob Wright

  “Fuck should I know?” said Frankie.

  Davie looked at his brother and sighed. “I’m your brother, man. Tell me the truth.”

  After a couple seconds, Frankie finally relented and let his guard down, his demeanour softening. “Okay, little bro, you’re right. He’s just some geezer I had to teach a lesson in manners the other night. I gave him some grief and he just came round to kick off about it.”

  “So you’re going to leave off now?”

  Frankie laughed and patted Davie on the shoulder. “Hell no! Shit is only just getting started. Now get out my way. This bitch needs a good seeing to.”

  Michelle punched Frankie on the arm, but giggled as she did so. Davie got out of his brother’s way without saying anything more. He wasn’t in the mood to argue. Frankie would do as Frankie wanted; that was the way it had always been.

  Davie decided to descend the stairs rather than return to his room. He entered the downstairs hallway on his way to the kitchen. It was unlikely there would be anything to eat – but stranger things had happened. The malodour of alcohol and weed was stronger downstairs than up and managed to permeate every corner of the house. The sound of daytime television polluted Davie’s ears as much as the smell polluted his nose – the additional noise of Frankie and Michelle screwing loudly upstairs only added to the assault on his senses.

  “Shouldn’t you be at school?” his mother asked as tried to sneak past the living room.

  “Half-term,” he told her truthfully.

  Davie’s mother stared at him, trying to work out if he was lying or not. Davie stared right back at her. Eventually, she seemed satisfied. “Okay, sweetheart,” she said. “Come sit with your old mom.”

  Davie smiled uncomfortably but joined his mother on the grimy settee as he was told. She pretty much lived in this room, sprawled in front of the television. Davie sometimes wondered whether her sweat-soaked flesh would someday fuse with the festering cloth of the cushions and keep her there forever.

  His mother took a long swig of beer and followed it with a throaty belch. She looked at him. “So whaya bin up to, Davie?”

  Davie shrugged and stared at the television. “Nothing really. Just hanging out with Frankie. I’m glad he’s back.”

  His mother huffed and took another swig of beer. “Boy’s a bad un. Done nothing but embarrass me his whole life. All I ever did was try to raise him like a good mother. You need to stay out of his way, Davie. You study hard and make your old mum proud. That boy will only bring you down with him – drinking, drugs, sex. He’s no good.”

  “He’s my brother. He just does what he needs to survive.”

  Davie’s mother laughed a wet cackle that eventually became a hacking cough. Phlegm and spittle flew from between her cracked lips and settled on the grungy carpet. When she finally managed to get control of her lungs again, she said to him: “He tell ya that, did he? Bloody swine.”

  Davie didn’t answer. He hated it when his mother started on about Frankie – it never ended well. There was a real, palpable hatred between the two of them. Davie was the unfortunate victim in the middle. He loved them both, but when it came right down to it, only one of them was really looking out for him – and it wasn’t his mother.

  The sounds of sex grew louder and more frenzied. Michelle cried out in orgasm, lacking regard for anyone forced to listen.

  Davie’s mother looked up at the ceiling and sneered. “Goddamn whore! Where does Frankie find ‘em? Regret the day I gave birth to that monster, I really do.”

  “Mum, don’t say that.” Davie knew where things were going: same place they always did. “Just watch your TV show. Okay?”

  Suddenly her demeanour changed. Her eyes turned dark and her expression exuded a deep and hateful bitterness. “Don’t you tell me what to do, you ungrateful little shit. Who do you think you are?”

  “Mum…”

  Davie’s mother struck him across the face. His instincts almost made him strike her right back, but he managed to refrain from any retaliation. You never hit women, Frankie always used to tell him, those are the rules. So instead, Davie stood up calmly to exit the room.

  His mother shouted after him as he left. “That’s right. Get outta my sight. Devil-child, that’s what you are. You and your brother make my life a living hell.” She started sobbing to herself. “What did I do to deserve this? I do my best…”

  Davie ignored the rest of her comments, had heard them too often to let them settle in his mind. He turned away and went back up the stairs, heading for his bedroom. Maybe he would while away the day with a videogame or two. Before he got there, though, Frankie exited his own bedroom and stepped out onto the landing.

  “What that bitch say to you?” he demanded. “I heard shouting.”

  “Nothing,” said Davie. “She’s just mouthing off at the television again. You know what she’s like when she’s been drinking.”

  Frankie examined Davie’s face, trying to work him out. Eventually he nodded and said okay. “It’s what she’s like when she hasn’t been drinking that I know nothing about. Woman’s a waste of space.” Frankie stepped over to Davie and put his hands on his shoulders. “Go find your coat, little bro. We’re going out.”

  “Where to?”

  Frankie smirked, his twitch turning the expression into an alternating grimace. “To go and have some fun.”

  Great, thought Davie, heading to fetch his coat. More fun…

  Chapter Seven

  Andrew was upset, frightened, angry, and a multitude of other unwanted states of emotion. The amount of adrenaline in his body had at one point almost driven him to full blown panic. It was only thanks to a combination of deep breathing and the brisk walk home that managed to keep his anxiety under control. Now that he was rounding the final corner to his house, his predominant emotion had become anger.

  Frankie’s attitude had been aggressive just like Andrew had expected it to be. What he had not expected was that the boy’s mother would be just as confrontational as her son. In many ways, it explained a lot – almost made the monster that was Frankie understandable and perhaps even forgivable. It didn’t make things right, though. Enough was enough.

  Frankie was just a teenager, living with his mother and dating a schoolgirl. Andrew was willing to bet his watch that the lad was all front and little substance. He’d only had the guts to throw a punch at Andrew the previous night because of a gang backing him up. People were only afraid of Frankie because of the reputation he worked so hard to cultivate. Things would be different if people fought back instead of buying into it.

  Andrew was an averaged sized guy and man enough to throw a punch if he had to. If Frankie wanted to try and victimise him then he was welcome to try. Andrew knew where he lived now and who his family were. They were on an equal playing field.

  He reached the path to his house and started walking up it. He could see the shape of Pen and Bex through the net curtains of the front window and smiled at the thought of seeing them. It didn’t expect them both to be home yet.

  Was it that time already?

  Andrew checked his wristwatch and saw that it was getting on for six-o-clock. As if in affirmation of the late hour his stomach began to grumble. Food was something he hadn’t thought about all day, but perhaps his appetite returning was a good sign – a sign that things were no longer getting to him quite so much.

  Andrew unlocked his front door and stepped inside the porch. Then he kicked off his shoes, removed his jacket, and passed through into the hallway. Pen and Bex were on the sofa in the living room. The carpets were still a mess, but the smell was mostly gone now. They gawped at him as he entered.

  “Where have you been?” Pen demanded. “Have you seen what they’ve done to your car?”

  Andrew set himself down in his armchair and released a long, weary sigh. “I know. I went to that lad’s home to try and put a stop to things.”

  Pen’s eyes widened. “Really? What happened?”

  Andrew leaned
back into the chair’s cushion and shrugged his shoulders. “Not a fat lot. The kid’s whole family is as bad as he is. Was like banging my head against a brick wall.”

  “So this isn’t over then?” Bex asked, sitting beside her mother and still wearing her school blazer.

  Andrew shrugged again. “I’m hoping so, honey. The swine knows that I know where he lives now and that I’m not afraid to confront him. Hopefully that will be enough to make him think twice from now on. Either way, don’t let it worry you. Things will be okay.”

  Bex seemed unconvinced. “How do you know?”

  “I just do, okay? I’m not going to let anything bad happen.”

  “Okay,” said Pen, finally sounding less on the defensive. “Let’s just move on then.” She looked at Andrew and grinned. “I think we’re still owed an evening of fish and chips, so I think I’ll walk over to the shops in a bit.”

  Andrew stood up from the armchair. “Don’t be silly. I’ll go.”

  “You sure?”

  Andrew nodded emphatically. “Yes, of course. There’s nothing to worry about. Last thing I thought you’d fancy though is fish and chips after last night.”

  “Like I said, we should just move on. Besides, I don’t feel like cooking tonight. You certain you don’t want me to fetch them?”

  Andrew nodded. “Certain as can be.” He left the living room and went to get his jacket from the porch. It was chillier now as night fell, so he decided on a scarf also. Once he checked for his wallet and keys, he left the porch and started down the front path.

  The sight of the empty road ahead was comforting, the soft buzzing of the streetlights the only sound he could hear. Right now, the memory of being attacked by a gang of bloody-minded yobos seemed impossible – a nightmare he had woken from long ago. Still, it would be smart to remain alert, and Andrew wasn’t entirely confident as he ambled down the street. But at least for now it seemed like things would be okay and that events would soon blow over.

  What a day. Just when life seems to be routine and unexciting, something crazy can happen and turn everything on its head. It’s over now though. A little bit of grovelling at work and things will soon be back to normal.

  Andrew didn’t notice the ambulance at first. He became aware of the flashing lights at the edge of his vision, but was too lost in his own thoughts to recognise their immediate connotation. When he came to realise that someone was undoubtedly injured, Andrew hastened his steps and headed towards the gathering crowd.

  The ambulance was parked outside the small group of local shops that Andrew had been heading for. When he realised that the emergency vehicle was parked directly outside of the chip shop, his stomach tied itself in knots. A bad feeling enveloped him like a shroud. He rushed forward and looked for the nearest paramedic. There was a young, blond man in a white shirt and green jacket. He was carrying a large holdall and NHS emblems adorned his clothing in several places. Andrew approached him.

  “What’s happened?” he asked. “Who’s hurt?”

  The paramedic pushed past him, not making eye contact. “Please move aside, sir.”

  Andrew went to grab out at the man’s sleeve but missed. The medical worker hurried away before there was any opportunity for another try. Several spectators stood around in various corners of the shopping area and car park. Andrew examined them one after the other, eventually spotting a young girl wearing the same chip shop uniform that Charlie always wore. He sighed with relief.

  “What happened?” Andrew asked the chip shop girl as he closed the distance between them.

  The girl’s eyes pointed at him and were moist with recently shed tears. It was obvious she’d witnessed whatever accident had befallen the poor soul in the ambulance.

  Andrew put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I said what happened?”

  For a brief moment it looked like the girl was going to faint. Somehow she managed to refocus herself and look Andrew in the eye. “She…she got burned.”

  “Who got burned?”

  “Cha…Charlie.”

  Andrew’s knees threatened to fold beneath him. “Charlie is the one who got hurt?”

  The grief-stricken girl nodded.

  Andrew shook his head, hoping she was mistaken. “What happened?”

  The girl gave no answer and just stared in to space.

  Andrew gave her a little shove. “Tell me!”

  She snapped back to reality again. “I…I don’t know. She fell into the fat fryer. Got her arm all burned.”

  Andrew examined her expression closely. She was staring into space again as if she were incapable of eye contact.

  “Bullshit!” he said to her.

  The girl flinched then looked at him, but still she said nothing. More tears began to expel themselves down her cheeks.

  “Frankie did this, didn’t he?”

  The girl shrugged off his grasp and rushed inside the chip shop, locking the door behind her. Andrew shook his head and felt tears of his own well up in his eyes.

  So much for answers, he thought.

  The ambulance revved its engine and started to pull away. Andrew tried to get a look in through the back windows, to see if Charlie was okay, but the glass was frosted and gave no opportunity to do so. So he stood there in shock for several minutes, praying to god that the poor girl on her way to the hospital was not hurt because of him.

  Because of Frankie.

  As the shock diluted into his bloodstream and faded away completely, it was replaced by a fury so alive with hatred that it seemed electrical in nature, sparking through his system and making his flesh tingle. He started for home again, wondering how he would ever explain to his family that, for the second time this week, chips were cancelled.

  ***

  “What do you mean you’re going to the hospital?” Pen asked him incredulously.

  “I need to go check on someone. The girl from the chip shop told me where Frankie lives and I think he’s hurt her because of it.”

  Pen almost spat the red wine she was drinking and had to swallow it carefully to avoid choking. “He’s put the girl in hospital? Jesus Christ!”

  “And it might be my fault, which is why I need to go.”

  Pen collapsed onto the sofa. “Crazy… This whole thing is just crazy.”

  Andrew sat down beside his wife and put an arm around her. “I know, but perhaps this girl will press charges and Frankie will go away again. Lord knows he deserves it.”

  “You want me to come with you?”

  Andrew shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t be fair to Charlie. She probably won’t want to see me, let alone my family. You stay here and look after Bex. I think she’s more upset about this situation than she lets on.”

  “Okay,” said Pen. “Give this Charlie my best, okay?”

  Andrew kissed his wife goodbye and left the house. The hospital was five or six miles away so he would need to take his car to get there. Hopefully, now that it was dark, the graffiti written all over it would not be visible. He pulled out his car keys and pressed the alarm fob. The lights flashed twice.

  To the pedo-mobile, thought Andrew wryly as he looked at the once-beautiful machine. He pulled open the door and hopped inside behind the wheel, plonking his butt down onto the leather driver’s seat. The ignition started as soon as he turned the key and the car was already moving when he began to fumble for his seatbelt. His eye was off the road for only a few seconds, but it was long enough to miss sight of the person standing in the road.

  At only 20mph, the car was moving fast enough to launch the person up onto the bonnet and then tumbling back down to the road.

  Andrew stamped on the brakes.

  The tyres squealed.

  The car stopped.

  He stared out at the body on the road and could not believe it. His world got worse with every passing second. He pressed the release on his seat belt and shoved open the door, stepping shakily into the frosty, cold air.

  He had run down a young boy, unconscious and
bleeding in the road. Glass covered the asphalt with shards of glass that now sparkled in the car’s headlamps like alligator teeth. Andrew rushed over to the boy and dropped down to his knees, ignoring the stabbing pains caused by the unforgiving tarmac.

  “Are you okay?”

  Stupid question.

  “Everything is going to be okay. I’m going take you to the hospital.”

  I was on my way there anyway, Andrew thought grimly. To see another young kid that got hurt because of me. I’m going to hell.

  Andrew sprung up off his knees and went and opened the rear passenger door of the car. Then he went back over to the injured boy, kneeled beside him, and threaded his arms underneath his shoulders to hoist him up. The weight was substantial, but thankfully the boy was pretty lean. Andrew was just about able to carry him over to the back seat of the car without running out of steam. He placed the boy down gently and bent his legs at the knee so that the door had room to close. Before Andrew had chance to close it, the boy opened his eyes and started to moan.

  “Hey there,” said Andrew softly. “My name is Andrew. You’ve been in a little accident, but everything is going to be okay. I’m taking you to the hospital right now. Can you tell me your name?”

  The boy carried on moaning for a few moments more but eventually managed to answer Andrew’s question. He said his name was Davie.

  Chapter Eight

  Andrew reached the hospital in less than ten minutes, screeching to a halt outside the entrance to the A & E department. There was no one around and he had to cry out for someone to come and help him. It wasn’t long before a male nurse and a couple of orderlies appeared outside, hurrying to see what the emergency was.

  The orderlies quickly retrieved a gurney and, together with the male nurse, managed to hoist Davie out of the car and onto the wheeled bed. Without hesitation they then disappeared inside the hospital with Davie, leaving Andrew alone with the male nurse.

  “Do you know the boy?” the nurse asked him.

  Andrew shook his head. “Said his name was Davie, but I’ve never met him before.”