Evil Lurking Within

by Matt Shaw

  * * * * *

  I had told Tom to wait in the lounge, with the television on and the door closed, whilst I loaded up the car with the bits and pieces, and some food from the kitchen. I hadn’t told him that I was also going to be packing Frank’s body into the boot too. I figured we’d get somewhere remote in the countryside and then I could dump the body in the woods - in pieces. I could then set it ablaze to try and make it hard for someone to establish who the charred remains belonged to if they happened to stumble across the corpse. A hammer blow to the mouth would sort the teeth out making the dental records useless and the fire would destroy the finger prints. In my head it was better to have the police come to my house and not find a dead body as opposed to have them stumble across the corpse. That way, if they ever found me, they couldn’t link me to the murder. At least - not if I was careful with getting rid of the evidence, including his blood which I considered bleach as the best option to go with. The plan was simple. Leave Tom in the lounge with the television numbing his brain. Go to the garage, use an axe to cut Frank into more manageable pieces, after caving his mouth in with the hammer. Back my car up to the garage door. With Frank’s body in various bin-liners, drop him in the boot. Put my bag and Tom’s bag on top of that, along with our food. That way, if someone glanced into the boot at any time it would look as though it was full, ready for our trip away. The only thing which I hadn’t really given a lot of thought to was the van. Even if the police came around, and did break into my house to look for clues as to whether Frank and I were working together - they’d still be able to pin the crime onto me by the van. I guess I could just say that I didn’t know it was stolen. Perhaps I could even say Frank sold it to me - not that we had spoken for a couple of days. I could lie and say that he called me up, was desperate for cash, and asked if I wanted to make the purchase - a cheap fee as he wanted to shift it fast. I paid him in cash and he wasn’t the sort of person to write out a receipt. If they asked about the log book, I could continue my lie by saying Frank said he’d sort it but only when he got back from his holiday. They’d ask where he went and I’d say I didn’t know. Admittedly it wasn’t the best of plans but it was better than nothing and certainly better than the alternative of driving it away somewhere in order to dump it. Especially seeing as I can’t exactly get Frank to stay in and babysit Tom whilst I dispose of it. Yeah, it’s better than nothing. It’ll do unless I think of something better.

  Of course - that plan would only really work if I came home alone. If I came home with the boy, everything would be out of the window and I’d be facing life in jail. If not life then at least the best part of my life. I took the axe from where it hung in the garage and turned to Frank’s body. Maybe when I’m done with him I should think about doing the same to the boy?

  4.

  It only took just over ten bin-bags to dispose of Frank. I was surprised. He was a big lad. His torso fit into one bag - which I then double-bagged. An arm and a leg in their own bag, with another bag over the top of them again just in case it split. His head, heavier than I had imagined, had it’s own bag too. His teeth went down the toilet and disappeared around the u-bend after a successful flush. Loading him into the boot was also a success although, I have to confess, it was more tiring than I had imagined. I figured, with him in smaller pieces, it would be easy as the weight would be - literally - cut down. A mistake. Wishful thinking I guess. Hell, even the back of my car lowered on the suspension under his combined weight in the boot. More so after I loaded in the bags of clothes and bits and pieces that Tom and I could eat. As for Tom - I had stood next to the garage door, leading to the kitchen, for more than a couple of minutes with the bloodied axe in my hand. Part of me wanted to call him out and bury it deep into his head but another part of me - a part which surprised me - had gotten used to having him around and, more importantly, didn’t feel comfortable with the thought of killing him. He is, after all, innocent in all of this. He’s only here because I dragged him here. Literally. Frank deserved to die. He was a bad man through and through. That’s not me being judgmental or pretending to be God. It’s the truth. He had been in prison for raping a woman in her teens. Some girl is out there now scarred for life because he couldn’t keep his dick in his trousers one night. He snatched her from the street, dragged her into the bushes and fucked her with his hands around her throat - a threat of snapping her neck if she dared to scream out. It’s because of his past crimes that I purposely chose a boy from outside the school and - even then - I worried whether Frank would care about the sex. To people like him - a hole is a hole. A victim is a victim. To people like Frank - they’re not human, they’re objects. I know I’m not perfect but I’m not that bad. I ended up putting the axe in the boot. It seemed a more logical thing to do - to take it with us, than to clean it up and hang it back in the garage. Especially as there was a chance I could have missed some of the DNA from the tainted blade.

  The puddle of blood, although less manual work than the actual cutting up of the body, seemed to take more time. I started with using clean soapy water but this just smeared the blood around further and made it a lighter pink colour as opposed to the sticky, dry red it had become. A fresh bucket of water and a bottle of bleach later and the floor was looking better but still not perfect. All I had kept thinking was - thank God I didn’t do this on a carpeted area. Even when I finally thought I was done with the cleaning, I went over it again - just as carefully as I had the first and second time - to be sure I had removed all traces of blood, skin and skull tissue. I even got down on my hands and knees and rested my head on the floor to see if I could see any pieces of Frank sticking up that I had missed from the other, more natural angle. All looked good.

  I climbed to my feet, already aware that my joints were aching from the work I had just done. My fitness clearly slipping from the standard I had managed to maintain in the prison - not out of an interest in fitness itself but more out of boredom. I threw the cleaning products into the boot and squashed everything down as best as I could. I heard something crack under my weight; not sure if it was the plastic bucket I had used or another piece of Frank. Doesn’t matter - just as long as everything fits. I don’t dare leave any of the cleaning bits here as I’m sure they could be swabbed, or something, to find traces of the mess they had helped neutralize. Tired, I slammed the boot shut. Next up - grab the boy and get out of here.

  I hurried through to the garage and back into the house. The problem with being on this side of the law is that I have no idea how long it will take for the police to start putting things together. No idea how long I have before they’re here, knocking on my door and asking awkward questions - many of which I doubt I’d be prepared for, or have an answer to. The only thing I could do was be as quick as I can, in clearing away from the property. Buy myself a little time. Allow myself the luxury of being able to prepare answers to all possible questions they may, or may not, ask of me. Life was much simpler when I was inside.

  “Ready?” I asked Tom as I stepped into the lounge where the cartoons were still busy distracting his attention from the crimes I was committing outside.

  “Can I just see the end of this?” he asked, pointing to a Scooby-Doo cartoon which was playing on the modest sized flatscreen television. “It’s nearly finished!” he tried to tell me.

  I shook my head, “Sorry but if we don’t go now - we may miss our chance. And you don’t want that do you?” I hoped the possibility of an adventure with his new, favourite uncle would be more enticing than discovering whether the show’s ghoul was, in fact, the caretaker of the school. He made a whiney sound from his mouth - no doubt his way of expressing disappointment at missing the show - but climbed to his feet anyway. Seconds later he had even flicked the television screen off. “Good lad,” I said. I was trying my best to sound natural and calm, despite the pressure of capture pressing down hard on my mind. Even so, I’m pretty sure my last sentence came out as really patronising. Thankfully, as he walked towards the lounge door
, he didn’t seem to pick up on it. And if he did - he wasn’t fazed.

  “Why do we have to go now?” he asked as he stepped into the hallway and towards the front door. Whilst curiosity killed the cat, it merely got irritated with boy. I told him it was so that we could beat the traffic which, although true, was just one of the many reasons we had for leaving now, as opposed to the morning after he’d have a good night’s sleep. It minimized our chances of getting caught...Well, I say ‘our’ chances. It minimized my chance of getting caught and his chance of getting rescued. That was a given. But it also gave us the luxury of being able to sneak away in the dark where it’d be harder for people to see his face - especially as he won’t want to wear the werewolf mask all the time! “Can I go in the front?” he asked as he approached the car. I nodded. It’d probably be best if he sat in the front - a little bit of distance between where he was sitting and where Frank was decomposing. Never killed someone before and I’m not entirely sure how long it will take before he starts to stink the place out. Have to have the windows down. Windows down and heaters up to stop the cold air from getting to us. Maybe only after the initial smell hits us anyway. I can always blame the first whiff of Frank on a fart. What kid doesn’t find that kind of thing humorous? Blame a poorly stomach, blow a couple of raspberries to make him really laugh and wind the windows down. Thinking about the rotting of Frank’s dead flesh - it’s probably a good thing that we didn’t pull this off in the summer. I’m sure that would have made him stink faster than the cold winter days will. It’s not quite freezing outside but it’s still like being inside a giant refrigerator. Didn’t think of that a couple of months ago though. The only reason we didn’t go ahead and put the plan into action earlier was because the schools were shut for the holidays.

  I pulled the booster seat from the back of the car and placed it onto the front seat for the boy. No sense in getting pulled over just because a police officer spots someone who’s too small to be sitting in the front without a booster. Jesus - I’d probably end up on some kind of reality show for the world’s dumbest criminals. I held the door open for Tom, once the booster seat was in position, and gently closed it for him when he had taken his seat. With him settled, I jogged to the driver’s side and climbed in, closing the door behind myself.

  “Ready?” I asked. He nodded. A grin on his face - probably because he knew that, really, he should be in bed sleeping instead of getting ready to go on a last minute ‘adventure’ with me. “Don’t need the toilet?” I asked, hoping his answer would be a ‘no’. Should have asked him in the house. Would have certainly made more sense. Especially considering he had just had the Coke from McDonalds. To my surprise, and gratitude, he shook his head. “Then...” for some reason I instinctively put a silly voice on, “....away we go!” He laughed. An infectious little giggle which brought a smile to my own face. I was momentarily surprised - not just because I had tried to entertain him with a stupid voice but also because he had also made me smile. I shook my head as I started the car up. He’s nothing more than just a victim. I can’t get too attached.

  I heard Frank’s voice in my head, “You get attached...And then what? What happens if you have to kill him?” I remembered the conversation with him. I told him, with a cold dead tone, that it wouldn’t be an issue. I told him that if it came down to it, I could snap his neck as though it were nothing more than a twig on the ground.

  “Okay,” I said. “Here we go.” My own voice.

  5.

  December 21st.

  It had been a long day. I was tired. Physically and emotionally. I had driven for most of the night. The sun was starting to come up and I still felt as though I needed to be further from it all. I also knew I had to stop soon though. If I carried on, I’d probably end up driving off the road - a silly accident. Several times, during the drive, I had been tempted to pull over for a snooze. It wasn’t helped that Tom was sitting next to me, snoring peacefully. He had slipped into a cozy looking dream within twenty minutes of the drive and hadn’t stirred since. Occasionally his snoring would stop and I’d have to slow the car down, so I could look at him - maybe even give him a little prod - just to make sure he was still breathing. He looked so peaceful, so relaxed. I couldn’t help but feel envious. I kept thinking a little snooze, on the side of the road, wouldn’t hurt. Even if it were only for ten minutes. Twenty minutes maximum. A little power nap to recharge my empty batteries and then back to it - back to the drive. I couldn’t though. Anyone could have come by and stopped to see if we needed help. Sure - at the moment I’m an unknown but Tom - his face had been plastered all over the news. If I ever do this again - which I doubt - I must remember to tell them to keep the news out of it. I should have threatened the safety of their child if they failed to listen to my demands. A silly mistake. Thankfully Frank didn’t have the reaction to my mistake as I did to his when we saw the first article hit the press; appealing for any witness and a reward for the safe return. For a split second - when I read the article - I wondered whether I’d be able to get away with claiming the reward and just giving the boy back. Too bad he saw my face. Had the plan gone accordingly, at the start, we may have got away with it. A few well-spoken lies about how we found him wandering the streets and recognised him from the photographs. I shook my head. Stop thinking about things like that. It’s too late now. What’s done is done. Need to stay focused on what happens next and that involved finding somewhere for us to crash - a small cabin in some crowded holiday park. On the one hand we’re close enough to other people that folk wouldn’t think to look for us there and, on the other hand, we’d be in the middle of nowhere. Everything should be fine just as long as we’d keep ourselves to ourselves. Worst case - it’s not the best of ideas - we just grab what we can and move on. That’s the second item on the plan though. The first port of call is to find somewhere to dispose of Frank...

  An hour later and I hadn’t seen anything other than woodlands for miles. It was safe to say I was in deep country. The perfect territory. I glanced towards my passenger. Still sleeping. What were the chances of him staying asleep whilst I parked up and disposed of Frank? Slim to none I bet but I don’t have a choice but to do it now. The longer I leave it, the more difficult it will become. I looked further down the road. There’s no other traffic - although that could be down to the fact that it’s still early in the morning. A turn in the road stretched into a long, straight line once more and, a little in the distance, I noticed what I was hoping to see; a narrow looking dirt track. Perfect. I slowed the car down and turned onto the track as soon as I was alongside it. Thick trees either side of us - all I’d need to find is a little clearing that I’d be able to crawl through and I’d be set to finish this chapter once and for all. The question is - is Lady Luck smiling down on me today? Tom stirred as the ride became bumpier due to the change in road surface. I slowed a little more whilst carefully watching him. He moved his head to the side and seemed to drift off again. Thank you Lady Luck. I don’t want him waking up just as I am about to pull Frank from the boot. Sure, he’s bagged up but if one of the bags is split, from the weight of the shopping on top of it, then there’s a good chance Tom would see inside. I could picture him standing there now, screaming at the top of his lungs with his eyes transfixed on the hand poking from the darkness within the bag. I shook the thought from my mind. It’ll be fine. If he does happen to wake up - I’ll just tell him to wait in the car.

  Another five minutes went by of solid driving until we finally came across what I was hoping for - a clearing in the thicket which was just big enough for me to be able to crawl through. I stopped the car and looked back at Tom. He was still sound asleep. I contemplated waking him to let him know I was popping to the toilet and that he should wait there but figured it was best to try and just sneak out on the off-chance he insisted on coming with me as he needed the loo too. I opened the door and climbed from the car, leaving it running in the hope that the gentle vibration of the engine would help keep him asleep
. A quick peep in - still sleeping. I made my way around to the boot and opened it as quietly as I could. Damn it. So much stuff in here which needs to be moved. I should have packed Frank in last for easy access to him - even if it did increase the risks of someone seeing him in here!

  I quietly started to remove the bags which hid the body, placing them on the floor next to the back of the car. A sudden panic and I spun around to see what was behind me. Nothing. Funny. Could have sworn I heard the sound of a car, or something. A look around suggested I was going insane. I couldn’t see anything, or anyone. I shrugged it off and turned my attention back to the task at hand; still careful not to wake the boy up. It was only a matter of minutes before I unearthed the first bag. Thankfully it was unripped. I leaned into the boot and pulled it out. Heavier than I remember. Must be tired. As soon as it was out of the car I threw it over the bushes to my left. I heard it land with a heavy thud somewhere on the other side. Must remember how many bags I throw over - don’t want to accidentally miss one when I’m over there, collecting them up.

  The other bags were just as heavy as the first - made a little bit lighter by how keen I was to be rid of them. One by one, they all went over the thicket in the same direction as the first bag and - only when they were all out of the car - I quietly pressed the boot shut. I checked on the boy, once more, before making my way through the hole that I had stopped by with a can of petrol in my hand. It’s funny - last month, when I put the can in the boot, I never envisioned it would be used for this. I honestly thought I was just being practical having been caught short of fuel once before. I wonder if my subconscious knew more than I did at the time?