Scallywag TYPESET

by Brogan, Stuart

  Brown jumper turned around, He was pushing a small cart, on top of which was a small metal cage, and inside was the barely-breathing body of a young woman no older than twenty. Her hair was dirty and matted, her fringe stuck to half of her bloodied and bruised face. Her top half was covered by a ripped shirt, her bottom half bound in stain-encrusted and sodden trousers.

  Callum glared at his tormentor. “You fucking sick bastard!” he bellowed, unable to contain his rage.

  Brown Jumper sat himself on his chair and stared at Callum, calmly waiting for him to finish his tirade. Callum eyed him with such menace that Brown Jumper looked secretly impressed.

  “I told you that you would enjoy it, didn’t I, little rabbit?” he said softly.

  “What the hell do you want from me? If you are going to kill me then just stop talking and do it,” Callum said quietly as his temper began to recede.

  “My dear little rabbit, I have no wish to kill you. If I harboured such motivations I would have done it already. In fact, I have a far more interesting plan for you, It is my desire that you understand my life’s work; I want to share with you my passion.”

  Callum looked on but said nothing. Brown Jumper continued, seemingly undeterred by his lack of response. “It has been so very lonely these many years, acting alone without anyone to confide in or to converse with. I have come to the conclusion and wholeheartedly believe that you were sent here for a specific reason. And that reason is to bear witness to my struggle. No one has ever entered this abode before…” He let the sentence trail off. Callum could only manage a snigger, the whole surreal situation beginning to play havoc with his rationale.

  “Your life’s work? What kind of twisted nutter are you? What kind of normal human being kidnaps young girls and keeps them locked in a cage down in some dingy bunker? God only knows what you have done to her. I may be a thief but I’m no killer of women or a fucking lunatic!” Callum glanced at the cage-bound woman, her knees now drawn to her chest with her arms hugging them tightly, her eyes glazed. Whatever this sicko had done to her defied logic or reason. Callum could only speculate what horrors had been forced upon her. Brown Jumper shrugged his shoulders.

  “You misunderstand, little rabbit. I don’t kill or harm any of my visitors,” he stated confidently. Callum couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

  “Visitors?” he murmured, unsure of how to respond to such a cold and calculated statement.

  Brown Jumper simply nodded.

  “Indeed. They are my visitors, to do with as I see fit. Of course all within reason.” He pointed at the cage.

  “When they are here they are mine to play with, to explore and enjoy, to give me pleasure and to satisfy my needs, but I never hurt them. In fact they are willing participants and they are fully aware of serving a greater purpose. As such, they should be honoured and exalted.”

  Callum hawked then spat a large mouthful of phlegm towards his captor. It landed a mere couple of feet from its target.

  “You think you are some sort of big man, eh? Bringing defenceless women down here and raping them just so you can get ya rocks off! Willing participants? You really are some sort of freak!” snapped Callum, his disgust plain to see. Brown Jumper rose to his feet and started to shake his head vigorously.

  “No. No. No!” he repeated, his façade of control starting to slip. “What do you take me for? I am no filthy rapist, nor would I ever dream of acting in such a way towards a guest!”

  Scallywag inwardly smiled at the sight of his captor’s temper rising, but was suddenly concerned about the fallout of such a course of action. For a split second, Callum had thought of keeping silent but chose to push further, enjoying watching the sick fucker lose his composure.

  “Bollocks!” he snapped, then continued in a more even tone, eager to stick the knife in. “You are nothing but another twisted fantasist, a wannabe loser, and first-rate social fuck-up who craves the big-time. A playground victim with delusions of grandeur and a vendetta against a world that pays you little attention. I bet you have never even had a girlfriend, and I bet even your parents despised you! What’s the matter? Didn’t you get the Action Man you wanted when you were twelve? Or did you secretly want a dolly?”

  Brown Jumper strode forward and lashed out with a right hand. It slammed into Callum’s jaw, rocking his head with the impact.

  “Nooooooooo!” he roared. “Don’t say those nasty things in front of one of my guests!”

  Callum raised his head, his brain still rattled by the impact. “Guests?” he stated quietly. Brown Jumper stepped back, knowing full well he had given away too much too soon.

  “You mean you have more than one of these poor bastards down here?” Callum enquired, tentatively.

  The big man moved back towards his chair. He spoke but didn’t turn to face his captive, his embarrassment evident. “Not that it is any of your business, but there are three guests currently staying here, all of which are enjoying my hospitality. And I can assure you they are being well cared for, so you need not worry.”

  Callum felt a surge of defiance and slowly began to stand for the first time since waking. He clasped the heavy chains, his battered body aching as he pulled himself to his feet and glared at the back of his tormentor.

  “Worried? You’re the one who should be worried, I’m going to let you in on a little secret, you twisted son of a bitch. There is a reason I am here, and it’s not one you are going to like. You see, I was told you were a policeman, some filthy bent copper on the take and ready to spill ya guts in order to save your own skin. And I will tell you something else. There are some very dangerous and pissed-off people coming for you. Sure, they may very well finish me off, but you my friend are going to be tortured…” He nodded in the direction of the cage, “…just like these poor fuckers, you are going to know what it feels like to be the victim. And I just hope I get to see it happen!” He paused, then continued, his bravado firmly taking hold. “I came here to kill you, you stupid wanker!” Brown Jumper slowly turned, a look of bemusement on his face.

  “Policeman?” he asked, sheepishly, then started to giggle, finally erupting into raucous laughter. “I’m afraid someone has been telling you porkie pies, little rabbit. I am not, nor have I ever been, a policeman. And, at the risk of upsetting you or making your somewhat sullen mood any worse, I very much doubt these tough men you speak of are coming for me any time soon.” He continued to laugh heartedly; all the while Callum remained silent. It didn’t make sense yet, although he had a gut-feeling Brown Jumper was quite possibly telling the truth.

  He swallowed hard, for if that was the case then he truly was finished. And worse, that Rebecca was as good as dead.

  “Who are these dangerous men you speak of? How much did they offer you in exchange for taking my life?”

  Callum sighed. Fuck it, he might as well tell him, as there was no way he was getting out of this alive. It seemed his fate would rest with either Brown Jumper or Tall man and his gang, both eager and willing to kill him.

  “I don’t know. They had masks on. They snatched me in broad daylight and bundled me into a van. Next thing I know I’m tied to a chair.” He paused, debating whether he should continue. Why shouldn’t he? In all probability he would be dead in the next few minutes. He sighed heavily.

  “They have my sister hostage and threatened to kill her if I didn’t finish you off within twenty-four hours. They told me some story about you being a bent copper, and that you had stolen something very valuable from them. They also said you had a shit tonne of money hidden. That’s why I came down here. I thought this is where you had stashed it. I was going to kill you, nick the cash, then grab my sister and run away, someplace far from all this shit and start over.” Once again he paused, awaiting Brown Jumpers reply.

  “Continue.”

  “That’s it. I don’t know who they are, apart from there was five of them, and I don’t know where I was being held captive. They shot me full of drugs then dumped me out by the woo
ds at the back of your house.”

  Brown Jumper sat himself on his chair and scratched his head, the latex mask crumpling.

  “Like I said before, I am no policeman, little rabbit. In fact, you were indeed correct in your assumptions. I am a nobody, and that’s the way it has to be. I certainly don’t hang out with the criminal element, or those of devious character, despite what you may think of me. But I have to admit your story has intrigued me. It’s so ridiculously preposterous that it could actually be true. In fact, it is so fanciful that no one in their right mind would ever dream of coming up with such a story like that, especially when their very life depended on it. I am, however, somewhat concerned that I don’t know who these people are, if not just a little impressed by their resolve and attention to detail. No one knows I exist, you see. I am, and have always been, extremely careful in my dealings with guests and suchlike. Not even the guests have seen my face, nor have they met me in a former role. I am not related to anyone. I have no friends, nor do I socialise in the fake world. My only reason for living is my work and furthering my collection.”

  Callum coughed, his throat dry and sore

  “Collection? What collection?” he croaked, trying to swallow, his brain trying to figure out what exactly was happening.

  Brown Jumper relaxed back in his chair. “What is your birth name? It seems I can’t keep calling you little rabbit indefinitely, so let’s add a little decorum and commonality into our conversation, shall we? I have a feeling this will indeed be an eye-opening few hours for both of us. I had a feeling you were different, young man, hence why you are still breathing”

  Callum smirked; the embryonic stages of a plan starting to formulate. Maybe he could catch him off guard and escape, just play along and gain his trust. “My name is Callum,” he said softly.

  “Excellent, Callum. You may address me as Mr Memory,” he replied, cheerfully.

  Callum nodded gently, but his confusion was obvious. “Mr Memory? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Mr Memory giggled and held up his hands. “Please, my young friend, I think we are well past all the swearing and cursing, are we not? Such words and phrases are mere tools for the uneducated mind, wouldn’t you agree?” He rubbed his hands together gleefully and leaned forward slightly. “It’s all to do with my work, Callum. It’s what I do. One might say I am a diligent harvester and avid collector of memories.” He nodded in the direction of the cage. “And my guests are the generous suppliers to whom I am eternally grateful.”

  Callum’s eyes moved across to the caged woman, who had neither moved nor said a word, not so much as a whimper. He shivered. Just what the hell had he done to her?

  “I, I don’t understand.”

  Mr Memory stood and walked over to the chains attached to the wall. He removed a thick clasp and let them slacken, the heavy links feeding through the loop, the sound of metal somewhat comforting to the captive’s ears. Callum immediately felt his arms fall to his side; he remained standing, gently rubbing each aching limb in turn.

  The captor eyed Callum with such intensity that he was tempted to look away. “I want you to remember this moment, Callum, for I have given you a great courtesy, afforded to none before you. But I must urge you, don’t get too excited or complacent just yet. It stands to reason that I shall not be removing your bindings altogether, as that would be folly at this stage of our relationship. And of course it goes without saying that I expect you to behave and play nice. So, I implore you, please do not prove my generosity to be a mistake. I have no wish to harm you unless you force me to. Do we understand each other?”

  Callum nodded, all the while rubbing his wrists. He winced at the two large cuts covered in dry blood throbbing angrily.

  “Good stuff!” Mr Memory once again moved back to his seat. He took in a deep breath and began.

  “Firstly, and contrary to your first impressions, I am not a serial killer, Callum. I do not take pleasure in ending someone’s life. There are others out there in the world whose path it is to undertake such odious tasks but, like I said before, I am merely a collector of memories.” He paused, perhaps anticipating some sort of pithy retort, and looked somewhat relieved when there was nothing.

  “When a supplier volunteers their services, they are mine to bring back and extract what I see fit. They can be from any sex, background, social status or sexual orientation. In fact I encourage it. I like to cast my net wide, so as to achieve a vast array of life experiences. It matters not who they are. All that is important is the memory they supply me for my collection. The wider the net, the better the selection offered.”

  Callum listened and played the willing captive, all the while feigning interest and assessing his options regarding escape.

  “You see, young man, I have been working relentlessly all my life, and I must admit I am extremely proud to have harvested a great deal of memories. My collection is vast. However, I fear there is still a very long way to go before I can state I have brought my role to its final and triumphant completion. Of course, I have heard whispers that there are others out there with the same calling as I. I have never met them, nor do I wish to, for I am a lone wolf, an Alpha with no need of a pack. All I demand is the freedom to continue undisturbed, and to be the best harvester the world has ever seen. Of course, all without people knowing I exist.” He huffed quietly, amused by the contradiction of his statement. “I’m sure you can empathise with the lone wolf analogy, Callum. You strike me as a non-team player yourself, one who is happy to do his own thing, to dance to no one’s tune but his own. I think it’s safe to presume you have had plenty of run-ins with the law during your life? It would appear you have some criminal skills, to be able to gain access to my home without being detected. And, by the way, you really must let me know how exactly you gained entry.”

  Callum smirked. “Unchain me and I will show you,” he said, confidently.

  Mr Memory giggled. “Now, now, Callum, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I am still not sure if you can be trusted yet. How can I know your true intentions? For you have already stated the reason for your visit, have you not? You might very well try and attack me and release my suppliers, then disappear into the night, never to be seen again. And that would not be gentlemanly”

  Callum chuffed. “It was worth a try; the only way you will know is if you let me go. Where exactly am I going to run to?”

  His captor shrugged his heavy shoulders and gave a little laugh.

  “I have to admit, Callum, despite your failings I am beginning to warm to you and your quick wit. In fact, I am so very glad that I didn’t kill you. You see, when you were lying helpless on the floor just after I knocked you out, I stood above you with a rather heavy sledgehammer and gave serious thought to caving your face in.”

  Callum felt his stomach lurch.

  “I am so very happy that I didn’t give in to said temptation, and that we can have this little chat.”

  He stood up and once again moved towards Callum, his right hand reaching into his pocket. Callum stood up straight and tensed his body, the anticipation of attack instantaneous. Scallywag watched on as his captor pulled something out of his trouser pocket, then held up his hand.

  Callum stared at the small item presented. He was relieved to see it was nothing more than a black plastic square, no bigger than a matchbox, complete with a red toggle switch.

  Mr Memory cocked his head, his eyes shifting from Callum to the device and then back again.

  “This, Callum, is a remote control. When I activate it, the hatch in the back room will seal shut, locking us both down here. And I can assure you there is no other way out. The only two ways to activate and open the door is with this remote and another switch, securely hidden somewhere in this bunker” He pressed the switch, the bunker was suddenly filled with a loud mechanical hum, swiftly followed by a loud heavy thump as the locking mechanism was engaged, trapping them. Mr Memory dropped the remote and stamped on it, the plastic shattering and scatte
ring across the floor. He eyed his captive.

  “We have reached the point where I release you, Callum, but not in the way you think. Feel free to attack me if you desire, but please, let us be clear: if you kill me you will be entombed here forever. I give you my word that you will never find the secondary switch. No one would ever find your body and your corpse will remain here for all eternity.”

  Callum felt the now-familiar wave of nausea cascade over his body, and then nodded calmly, knowing full well he had little choice.

  Mr Memory paused just as he was about to release Callum’s chains.

  “Oh, just one other thing, Callum. Before I release you, I think it would be rude not to introduce you to two very good friends of mine, who shall be with us for the duration of our conversation.”

  He moved briskly to the metal door and, with squealing hinges tugged it open. A cold blast of air swept through the room, causing Callum to shiver. Mr Memory whistled loudly and Callum froze as he heard nails on concrete coming from the tunnel. He stared at the doorway, his eyes never leaving the entrance. Callum looked on in terror as two well-built German Shepherds entered the room, their upper bodies held high, eager to be patted by their master.

  Mr Memory obliged. “Good boys,” he said, rubbing their heads. Then they noticed Callum. Their shoulders began to rise; their heads went low, their eyes focused on the chained captive. They started to growl. Callum watched as top lips pulled back exposing two sets of vicious-looking teeth.

  “I would like you to meet my boys, Romulus and Remus. They are loyal only to me and will kill anything, should I give them the command. It stands to reason that if I should be killed they will no doubt revert back to wild animals and hunt down anything in their territory, In this case, a sealed bunker.” He started to laugh. “I trust you understand what I am saying to you”

  Once again Callum was powerless to do anything but nod in agreement. There simply was no other choice.

  Mr Memory chortled. “Excellent, then let’s get those chains off you, shall we, and get started with the grand tour.” He reached down and retrieved a small key from his trouser pocket then proceeded to unlock Callum’s restraints. The chains fell to the floor with a metallic clang, the sound echoing around the bunker.