Retribution

by Heather Atkinson

  The door burst open and Paula rushed in, grabbed the arms of the man flailing about on the bed and wrenched them up his back, expertly disarming him of the gun and tucking it into the back of her trousers. She then punched the intruder in the side of the head, knocking him out, letting him fall to the ground.

  “Wow,” said Jules. “Me impressed.”

  Paula smiled and gave her a wink. “Let’s see what we have here,” she said, hitting the lights.

  “Charlie O'Brien,” said Jules. “He’s one of the arseholes who attacked me the first time.” Her eyes widened with surprise when she realised she’d said that perfectly properly.

  Paula however had failed to notice, too concerned by their prisoner. “He’s coming round.” She grasped Charlie by the hair and yanked back his head. “Are there any more of you?”

  Charlie scowled at her but shook his head.

  “Good,” said Paula before knocking him out again.

  “You bad ass,” said Jules.

  Paula whipped round to face the window when a figure appeared there but it was only Shane.

  “Did you get him?” said Paula.

  Shane nodded. “He’s knocked out and tied up under the window.”

  “How you know?” said Jules, annoyed when her speech didn’t come out correctly.

  “I placed a camera on the exterior of the window,” he replied. “Just a small one,” he added when Jules looked annoyed. “Too small for the staff to notice. It looks out onto the gardens, it’s not pointed in here. It’s linked to my phone.”

  Jules wanted to crack an innuendo about him spying on her when she was getting changed but her stupid slow brain wouldn’t come up with the words, so she didn’t bother. “Clever,” was all she said.

  “Thank you,” he grinned.

  “What now?” said Paula.

  Jules regarded her curiously. Paula was an ex-police officer who had been forced out by her superior after she refused to set someone up who was actually guilty of what he was being accused of. She was incorruptible, so Jules couldn’t see her going along with her family’s usual way of dealing with people who tried to hurt them.

  “I’ve to call Jez and Mikey,” replied Shane, looking back at her, likewise wondering how she was going to react.

  Paula nodded and shrugged. “I’ll get back to my post, in case there’s any more of the bastards.”

  “Is that it?” said Jules.

  “They’re cowards. Nothing more needs to be said.”

  They watched her leave in silence.

  “Cold,” said Jules. “Like it.”

  Shane made the call and forty minutes later Mikey and Jez arrived together, both looking tired and annoyed. It didn’t help that they couldn’t enter the building through the front door and had to go through the gardens, which were damp and even boggy in places.

  “Why you wear suit?” Jules said to Jez when he appeared at the window smartly dressed, scowling because his expensive trousers were covered in mud. Mikey on the other hand had been sensible and wore a thick black jumper with jeans. Jules thought how good he looked with his usually neat hair all messed up from sleep. They were accompanied by Mark and Grant, who were similarly sensibly dressed.

  “I always like to look my best,” said Jez.

  “Who’s going to see this time of night?” said Mikey.

  “You never know and we do have a reputation to maintain.”

  Mikey rolled his eyes and looked to Jules. “You alright?”

  “Fine,” she replied. “I use flash on my phone,” she said, holding it up triumphantly. “Blind him so he not see me,” she added, pointing at Charlie trussed up and gagged on the floor. He’d come round and looked terrified, wishing he’d listened to Rob.

  “Nice one,” smiled Mikey, making Jules grin back at him.

  “Let’s get these fucknuggets out of here,” said Jez when Mikey and Jules just stared at each other. “Then I can get back to bloody bed, I’m knackered.”

  “Be quiet,” said Jules. “Nurses.”

  Shane resumed his post on the door with Paula while Grant and Mark managed to drag Charlie towards the window and haul him outside.

  “See you tomorrow Sis,” said Jez before following Mark and Grant outside.

  Mikey looked back at her and gave her a gentle smile, which she returned before leaping out after them, pulling the window closed. Just in time too because there was the murmur of voices at the door seconds before it was opened by a nurse.

  “Jules, are you alright?” said the nurse on night duty. “I thought I heard voices.”

  “Sorry, I put telly on,” she said, looking contrite. “Came on loud so I turn off.”

  “Oh, right. Well no worries. It’s not like it’s going to disturb the other patients, so feel free,” she added before leaving.

  Jules slumped back on the bed, for the first time since she’d woken from the coma feeling buoyed up with hope. Not only had her speech very briefly sounded normal but she’d actually managed to fend off an attacker, she’d even hit him. She was getting better.

  Rachel and Ryan’s enquiries into the mysterious dog man had so far got them nowhere. Neither had Ashley turned anything up. However Ryan had come up with a solution to the problem, a solution which horrified Rachel.

  “Absolutely not,” she said. “I won’t let you do it. It’s insane.”

  “I don’t see the problem,” he countered. “If it gets us to the bottom of this mystery it’s worth it. And who is more likely to recognise an attractive young man than him?”

  “What if he doesn’t? What if it just stirs up a whole load of bad memories for you?”

  “It won’t come to that. I’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with what that shower did to me.”

  Rachel thought only Ryan would use the word ‘shower’ to describe three serial killers. “What if it strikes you harder than you think? It could be a huge trauma for you and I couldn’t bear for you to go through that again.”

  “That won’t happen,” he said, encircling her in his arms.

  “But what if it does?” she insisted, eyes wide and black. “Haven’t you been through enough?”

  “Listen,” he said, taking her face in his hands. “I was actually thinking about going to see one of the bastards anyway.”

  “You never mentioned it before,” she said suspiciously.

  “Because I had a feeling you’d react like this. How right I was,” he said, brushing her hair back off her face. “I’ve already made a request to see Gerard Kerrell. It’s called restorative justice. Apparently the victim - as much as I loathe that word, that is what I am in the eyes of the law - can gain emotional closure from confronting their assailant.”

  “The last time you confronted one of your assailants you broke his jaw and made him eat his own eyeball.”

  “Which is why I have no worries over this. In the end I showed them who was weak and it certainly wasn’t me. Permission has already been granted, I can visit Gerard whenever I want. I just need to request the visit.”

  Rachel gazed up at her strong, determined husband and felt a swell of pride. “Alright, if you’re sure this is the right thing to do?”

  “I am.”

  “I just hope you’re putting yourself through this for a good reason. What if we’re making a mountain out of a molehill?”

  “Then there’s nothing else to worry about.”

  “How do you always manage to talk me round?”

  “Because I know you Rachel, inside and out.”

  “Hmmm,” she said, planting a soft kiss on his lips. “Care to demonstrate that?”

  “Delighted to,” he said, kissing her, sliding up her skirt as he pressed her up against the wall.

  CHAPTER 19

  Now the danger to Jules’s life had passed, Jackson had agreed to bring Cara again to see her.

  Jules could hardly keep still she was so excited. She’d put on a little weight and had her hair trimmed by the hairdresser who visited the home each mo
nth to trim the patients’ hair for free. She was also up and dressed, sitting in the armchair by the window, hoping the fact that she wasn’t in a hospital bed would help warm Cara to her more.

  Cara was led in by Jackson, glancing reticently at her mother from under her eyelashes, nervously twiddling the piece of paper she held.

  “Hello beautiful girl,” said Jules, holding out her arms. “Give Mummy a hug?”

  Cara shook her head and looked down at the floor.

  Jules swallowed hard and prayed her smile wouldn’t falter. “That okay. What your favourite toy now?”

  Cara raised her arm to reveal the cuddly white rabbit.

  “Cara loves rabbits,” smiled Jackson. “Her favourite animal.” He looked down at the little girl. “Tell Mummy the name of your pet rabbit.”

  Cara just shook her head again, still refusing to look at her.

  “It’s Flopsy,” said Jackson.

  “I remember your favourite toy. Cuddly pink pig. Mister P….,” She closed her mouth and took a deep breath when Cara’s eyes widened as she struggled with her speech. “Mister Piggly,” she said, relieved she’d got the word out.

  Cara just looked back at her as though she had no idea what she was talking about.

  Seeing the hurt in Jules’s eyes, which she was doing her best to conceal, Jackson said, “why don’t you give Mummy the drawing you made for her?”

  “You made me drawing?” said Jules, delighted. “I see?”

  Leah held out the piece of paper she clutched and once again Jules’s smile faltered as it portrayed her lying unconscious in a bed. Even though she was now awake it seemed that was how she existed in Cara’s mind. Worst of all, her skin was grey. On one side of the bed was Cara herself and on the other was Jackson. None of the characters were smiling. Jackson had probably intended this drawing to cheer Jules up but on the contrary, it only depressed her. It reeked of unhappiness and once again she felt bad for surviving. It would probably have been better for Cara if she’d died, leaving Jackson free to find some sweet, fertile wife who didn’t scare the shit out of his daughter.

  “Thank you,” said Jules. “I put this above my bed. Special place for special drawing.”

  Cara looked up at her dad. “She talks funny.”

  “She can’t help it sweetie,” he replied. “She’s still getting better.”

  “So,” began Jules, desperately searching for something to say, the magic phrase to make her daughter love her again. She doubted it even existed. “Do you remember me?”

  Cara gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head.

  “I used…to sing….when you sleep.”

  Jules took a deep breath. She’d been practicing this and it didn’t sound too bad. She actually found it easier to sing than to talk. She launched into the soft lullaby she used to sing to Cara, it had always soothed her and helped her sleep. She hoped it stirred some forgotten memories.

  Jules’s huge IQ didn’t mean she could sing, in fact she struggled to hold any form of discernible tune however that had never mattered to Cara, she’d used to love the sound of her mother’s voice and as she began to sing Cara’s eyes flickered, as though she were trying to recall something.

  When the song came to an end there was a moment of silence, Jules and Cara staring at each other. “You remember?” Jules asked her.

  Cara bit her lip, eyes flicking between her dad and her mum before she shook her head again and took her dad’s hand.

  Jules sighed and slumped back in her chair. She’d been banking on that lullaby to work its usual magic and it had failed.

  When Tom went to the pub for his daily pint - which was being run by a new landlord hastily hired by the brewery - he didn’t find a queue of people waiting to get in. Rather he found a group of five regulars, staring up at the front of the pub in amazement.

  Tom’s stomach lurched. This couldn’t be good and he hadn’t see Charlie or Rob for a few days. Sam had also gone missing.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, moving to stand with the group.

  When he looked up at the front of the building his stomach threatened to evacuate. Nailed to the door were two bodies - his best friend Charlie and right beside him Sam.

  “Oh my God,” he cried, staggering backwards. Like Pat and Steve they’d been beaten to a pulp only they’d been garrotted too, the wire used to do it still wrapped around their bloated necks, tongues lolling and eyes bulging horrifically, dried blood down their fronts. Pinned to each one was a sheet of A4 paper with a drawing of a snake on it.

  “I told you to leave it alone you daft bastard,” he yelled at Charlie’s body, tears springing in his eyes. He’d been his best friend since he was a little kid, it had always been the three of them together - Tom, Charlie and Rob, the terrible trio. Now Charlie was dead, Rob had vanished, no doubt lying dead somewhere too, which meant he was the only one left.

  Anger welled up inside Tom, anger like he’d never felt before. He was going to destroy the Laws and Maguires for this but, unlike his friends, he wasn’t going to go after one of the lieutenants. He was going to go for the big men themselves and cut off the fucking snake’s head.

  Gerard Kerrell had always been large and flabby, ever since he was a boy but prison had had a dramatic effect on him and his weight had plummeted. After almost two years in prison he’d lost four stone, consequently he was a haunted shade of a man in comparison to the psychotic hunter armed with a rifle that Ryan remembered. By slipping the guard a bribe he’d ensured he and Gerard could talk without anyone listening in.

  “Hello Gerard,” said Ryan, seating himself before him.

  “What do you want?” glowered Gerard. “If you want me to say sorry you’ll be waiting a long time.”

  “I wouldn’t expect something as human as remorse from something as inhuman as yourself. Besides, I don’t need your apologies. If I want to feel better about what you freaks attempted to do to me all I need to do is close my eyes and remember breaking Actaeon’s jaw and making him eat his own eyeball.”

  Gerard scowled, the skin tightening around his bones, giving him a death’s head appearance.

  “Tell me,” said Ryan, leaning back in his seat and straightening the cuff of his shirt. “How do the other inmates treat you? Do they leave you alone or are they still entranced by your behind?”

  “They leave me alone,” he muttered, trying to sound casual and failing.

  “Good. Do you know why that is?”

  Gerard shrugged.

  “Because I tell them to. However I know they’d be more than happy to start up with their rather rough attentions again should I give the word.” He smiled at the panic in Gerard’s eyes. “I’m not here to give you forgiveness or to see if you’re sorry for what you did, I couldn’t care less about that. I’ve put behind me what you rather pathetically attempted to do and my life has never been better while you’re stuck in here, festering. All I want from you is some information.”

  Gerard stared at him before saying, “how’s your sexy wife?”

  Ryan’s immediate reaction was to slam his fist into his face but he restrained himself. Gerard was trying to get a rise out of him and distract him from his purpose but he refused to allow him. Creatures such as this were desperate for some form of control over their miserable existences and he wasn’t going to give him that. “If you tell me what I want to know I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.” Ryan’s eyes swept up to Gerard’s head, who was almost bald, his mane of dark hair practically gone. “Metaphorically of course,” he added.

  Gerard didn’t speak but he was listening.

  “There’s someone I wish to find.”

  Ryan described the dog walker then leaned back in his seat, waiting for Gerard to speak. He knew Gerard recognised the man, the gleam in his eye unmistakeable.

  “Well?” said Ryan when he remained silent.

  “I know him.”

  “Thought you might.”

  “He approached Brian for a job labouring on
one of my company’s building sites. Good looking boy, strong boy. We talked about hunting him, he was going to be one of our trophies.”

  Ryan’s stomach turned when Gerard’s eyes lit up and the tip of his tongue darted out to lick his lips. Pushing his disgust aside he leaned forwards, locking his gaze with his own to draw him back to the present. “Judging by the fact that he’s alive and well you didn’t hunt him. Why not?”

  The spell broken, Gerard leaned back in his seat and shrugged. “He drove Brian nuts, he was a lazy bastard and a cheeky sod into the bargain. He wouldn’t pull his weight so Brian sacked him. Everyone would have thought something funny was going on if he’d been allowed to get away with his outrageous behaviour.”

  “I thought that would only make you more likely to hunt him?”

  “It did but once he left the job it became difficult to keep track of him. He didn’t stay in one place for long, always moving about and dossing down on friends’ couches. We thought he was more trouble than he was worth so we didn’t bother. Instead we found better prey more deserving of our attention.”

  Again Ryan got the overwhelming urge to beat the living shit out of him but he kept himself in check. “So what’s his name?”

  “You want that you have to do something for me.”

  “I’m already doing something for you. I’m preventing half the prison population from raping you. Push me and I can always remove my protection. I’d do the same to Eddie Cope too but I’d save the worst of it for your old friend Brian Crossly. By the time my friends are done with him he’ll be looking back on the time I made him swallow his own eyeball with fondness. In this prison are a lot of violent individuals with nothing but time on their hands who would be delighted to use you and your friends as playthings until they eventually get bored and slit your throats. But not before they’ve castrated you all first.”

  Ryan spoke so clinically and coldly that even a cold hearted killer like Gerard was unnerved. “Alright, I’ll tell you, as long as you promise not to hurt us and especially not Brian. I can’t live without him.”