by Andie Fessey
A short, stout man stepped from the passenger side, ran quickly to her side.
The trio in the cab of the horsebox watched as she turned, shaking her head. The man shook his head sadly before they turned to return to the car.
They stopped dead in their tracks.
A large man wearing oily overalls stood next to the bonnet of the car, before slowly walking around the stationary vehicle.
From this distance, the people sat in the cab of the horse box could clearly see something appeared ‘wrong’ with him.
He didn’t walk in a normal way, staggering with each step he took.
They could tell by his face, this was not due to him being intoxicated, as he possessed the same pale, heavily veined face as Rosalind.
They could not see his blood red eyes clearly at this distance, nor hear his rasping moan and the clicking of his teeth, but, judging by the reactions of the pair who stood near the dead body of the rider, they obviously could.
The short man and the attractive, statuesque woman looked around for something to defend themselves with.
What they brought with them to defend themselves, was left in the car.
“We have to help them,” Abigail said.
“No,” Jake replied, unusually curt, “we can’t put ourselves in danger trying to help complete strangers.”
“At least they looked like they were trying to help that guy!” Abigail replied harshly, staring across the cab at her husband.
“I know love, I know but I don’t want you hurt,” he said, as they continued to stare at the couple facing the slowly approaching figure, looking behind them as if they were about to abandon the car and escape.
Behind them lay the grass embankment leading up to side of the motorway.
Before they could decide, Nate leant forward across his father, pressing down hard on the steering wheel. The noise of the air-horn made the couple look in their direction.
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Jake exclaimed, rolling the driver’s side window down and leaning out.
“Hey! You two! Over here!” He shouted to the couple.
He watched as the curvaceous woman grabbed the man by the fabric of his sleeve, as they hurried to them.
Opening the passenger door, Abigail jumped down onto the road.
“Where are you…?” Jake started to say, but she was already sprinting across to the couple.
Grabbing them by their hands, she ran to the cab.
He looked on in horror, as the figure turned in their direction, following them at a slow shamble.
“Open the passenger door son!” He instructed, turning to Nate.
Nate managed to open the cabs rear passenger door, the moment his mother reached it with the two strangers in tow.
She helped the woman up first into the cab, Nate leaning down and taking her hand to help her in.
“Thank you so much,” she said panting for breath, before moving across to allow the man to climb up.
“Eve,” she said, leaning forward to shake Jakes hand.
He stared into her eyes for a moment. They were of the most mesmerising light blue, glinting with the sparkles of light from the sun, struggling through the darkening clouds above.
She appeared to reciprocate the look he gave her.
“Jake,” he said, shaking himself immediately.
“Nate,” his son said.
He watched as the woman shook his son’s hand, giving him a beautiful smile.
“Stumpy,” gasped the stocky, short man with the palest grey eyes, as he fell into the rear seat, before leaning forward to shake his hand.
“Stumpy?” Nate asked.
“Yes,” he replied smiling, “Stumpy.”
Abigail jumped into the front passenger side of the cab and, slamming the door quickly, turned to her husband.
“Let’s get the hell out of here before him or his friend get any closer.”
“His friend?” Jake asked, with a confused look.
“His friend,” she repeated, pointing to one of the gates of a nearby industrial unit.
Through the palisade fencing, they could clearly see the figure of another shambling man, this time wearing a torn suit, but with the same facial appearance as the other approaching figure.
Jake started the engine, immediately accelerating the giant vehicle away from both figures, leaving the scene of death behind them.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Receiving the telephone call calling her back to the Medical Centre, where she worked as an Office Manager, she turned her car around at the next junction.
Why the hell did they have to ring me? I’m almost bloody home!
She lived in a nice, relatively quiet suburb on the edge of the city outskirts and with only a five-minute drive to reach her home, she received the call to return to the Centre.
Her husband Luke awaited her there at their lovely detached house, returning up north from his city job in London for the week.
She cursed inwardly, when he said he would be able to have her to himself all week.
Yes, with that ever-growing bloody waist line.
He would grind feebly on top of her, whilst she endured the feel of his receding hairline against her skin, nuzzling his face between her breasts, kissing and licking her cleavage, whilst kneading her breasts as if they were made of dough.
Still, it would be over in a matter of minutes.
He would, as usual, groan out loud, which always sounded like a pathetic whimper to her, as he ejaculated inside of her.
This would be followed by the customary kiss on her forehead, as he told her he loved her, before he rolled over, asleep within minutes.
This would then be followed by her customary routine of quietly walking to the bathroom across the hallway to use the shower, so as not to awaken him, to cleanse herself before returning to their bedroom to fall asleep.
She did not hate him, purely the fact she never actually loved him, and their love-life was always of the plain old, vanilla flavoured missionary variety.
Unlike her sex-life with Ben.
She was secretly meeting Ben for the last two years, Luke completely unaware of her clandestine, extra-marital affair. If he was aware, he never broached the subject with her.
Ben worked out on a regular basis, so possessed a firm, toned body, which she liked.
In addition to being as fit as a butcher’s dog, he also pampered to most of her darker wants and needs.
Nearly most of them.
Wrapped around her little finger, he enacted with her in quite a few of her roleplay fantasies. But regarding her rape fantasy, he would only be slightly rough with her.
But even just that is much better than, ‘Groundhog Shag’ Luke
She could understand his reluctance to an extent, as he gripped her throat only mildly hard enough in his pair of strong hands, relaxing his grip after she violently climaxed against his stiffness.
In addition to which, she didn’t relish the thought of explaining away bruises to her colleagues and doctors at her place of work, least of all to her husband.
Still, I’ll get Luke to take me into Manchester tomorrow, so he can treat me to a new outfit.
In addition to which, she spent the last few hours with Ben at his flat.
A few hours of pure illicit, physical lust stolen in the afternoon, would have to suffice until Luke returned down south.
“Shit!” she cried, pressing her foot down hard to slam on the brakes, her cars antilock system allowing her to steer quickly away from the person, stepping into the road in front of her.
The car stopped with a loud protesting squeal from the tyres.
Panting for breath, her heart pounded within her chest.
Shaking, she removed her hands from the steering wheel.
Glancing in the rear-view mirror, she could see the figure of a man, still slowly shambling across the road behind her, oblivious to the fact he was narrowly turned into roadkill.
Pressing the button on the c
ar door, her window came down.
“You complete fucking idiot! Are you trying to getyourself killed or something?” She called to the man.
The man stopped his shamble across the road, looking in her direction, slowly walking to her car.
She looked at him, straining to him clearly.
Shit, I really do need new contacts.
Even without new contact lenses, she could see he appeared slightly overweight and moved slowly closer to her.
“Stupid bastard!” She called, then placing the car into gear, drove away.
Mike, or more specifically, the shell which used to be Mike, continued to slowly shamble along the road.
Fifteen minutes later, she pulled up into the carpark at the rear of the medical centre, the traffic being extremely busy.
Stepping from the car, she could hear siren after siren wailing in the distance. Crossing the car park, she belatedly thought it may have been best to park closer to the entrance.
God knows what idiots could be lurking around here.
Fuck it.
She hurried across the carpark to the entrance.
Pushing the door open, she stood in the porch way. Peering through the glass into the large waiting area, she could see the room was full of people.
As she entered, she worked her through the crowd to the staff door, located at the opposite wall.
“Just fucking get in line,” a man demanded, wearing a blue football track suit, as she squeezed to get passed him.
“I work here,” she informed him, eventually managed to push her way passed.
“Oh yeah?” he replied, “then can you get your fucking colleague to pull her fucking finger out?”
Holding his hand up in front of her, she could clearly see the edge of his wound under a makeshift bandage.
“I need a fucking tetanus jab. Some fucking idiots out there are biting people.”
Before she could reply, a woman came forward, holding onto the arm of a young boy wearing a football kit, raw scratches running along his leg.
“He’s bloody right!” she said. “Our Kyle was attacked by some stupid bloody old pervert. Fucking scratched him on the leg he did. Been trying to get hold of the coppers, but the bloody line is always busy. Rang the Health Line and they bloody told me to get our Kyle to one of these bloody places as Town Hospital isn’t taking any admissions!”
A few other voices joined the woman, relaying their similar stories.
I can’t be arsed listening to these bloody plebeians, it’s bad enough having to work here.
Still, the centre received a damning report at their last inspection due to poor customer service, so maybe dealing with these people would increase their score.
She stared at the woman sat in the reception chair behind a large sheet of toughened glass, a measure they put in place because of threats to staff by the more insalubrious of the visitors to the centre.
She didn’t need to ask the receptionist to buzz her through the door, the task being performed by her automatically.
Pushing open the staff entrance door, she entered the small passage way connecting the reception area to the staff toilets and store room.
After taking a moment to take a breath and compose herself, she opened the door in front of her.
Gina looked up at her, informing the member of the public, she would return to deal with his enquiry.
This was met with grumbles and swearing, but Gina experienced this time and time again today, so one more moan would not make much difference.
“Has it been like this all day?” Alison asked her.
“It wasn’t too bad this morning, but it has steadily become worse since you left at lunchtime.”
Alison stared at her.
Is she accusing me of something? Does she suspect anything? If she does and makes one remark, she’ll soon find her fat arse out on the street. I can always employ another receptionist.
“I told you, I had to go pick up those stationary supplies from that new supplier,” she said.
“Oh, I know that, I was just saying it has become a lot worse throughout the day.”
“And do we now, I take it, have those supplies Alison?” spoke the baritone voice of the man now stood behind her.
She turned to face him, a false smile playing upon her face.
“The boxes are in the back of my car Doctor Cohen.”
It took her only an hour to collect them from the suppliers, before she drove to Ben’s flat.
Shit, I thought it was Doctor Edwards who was in for the late shift, not bloody Cohen.
Edwards was a walkover, all she needed to do was give him a glimpse of her stockinged thighs as she bent over, or a glimpse or two, of her cleavage and she could get away with murder with the old guy.
Cohen was a different kettle of fish altogether.
A forty something, principled family man, seconded to their centre after their damning score to assist in implementing changes.
Not all for the bloody better.
“I wasn’t expecting you in today?” She said, more a question than a statement.
“Geoff, sorry Doctor Edwards, has had to stay across at Town Hospital. So, I am covering his shift, then I’m off over there myself.”
“What is going on over there, Doctor Cohen? One of the patients just informed me that they are not taking admissions.”
“The patient is correct,” he replied, “there has been some sort of disturbance over there. I’m not certain if it is another gang fight or anything like that. I only know that the police are in attendance and all calls and admissions have been diverted. Any significant emergencies are being diverted across to the likes of Warrington and Manchester. Everything else has been diverted to centres such as ours.”
“Do you think it has anything to do with what was on the news earlier, about violent attacks?”
“I have no idea Alison. What I do know however, is that Gina has been on duty since stupid o’clock this morning, so if you could relieve her so she can go home, I would be grateful.”
She cringed inside.
“I could give Jayne a call and ask her to cover?”
“That would just result in Gina waiting around to be relieved even longer. In addition to the centre incurring the extra cost of having to pay overtime,” he replied, staring hard at her.
“Whilst you, however, are a salaried member of staff. I am in room D. Please send the next patient through once you have settled in,” he said, turning and heading to the staff toilets.
She walked to where Gina sat at the reception desk.
“It wasn’t my suggestion,” the blonde receptionist said, a look of worry on her face.
“It’s okay,” Alison said, letting out an exaggerated sigh and looking at the clock, “only a few more hours to go. Get home and I will see you tomorrow.”
Gina wasted no time in grabbing her bag and jacket, logging herself out from the reception computer before passing Alison a pad of handwritten notes, whilst Alison inputted her own details into the computer.
Alison stared through the panel of glass at the throng of people in the waiting area.
God, this is a bloody nightmare.
She stared at the person stood in front of the glass separating them.
“How may I help you?”
The last few hours passed by slower than she could ever imagine.
God Almighty, I’ve never seen so many tracksuits in my life! They all have disposable incomes, so why don’t they at least make an effort when it comes to the clothes they wear?
She must have dealt with at least a dozen people, wearing the same identical blue football jersey, including women.
I’ll never understand why some women lower themselves by wearing such rags.
The waiting finally emptied of them.
Doctor Cohen called through to her on one of the internal telephone lines, saying he received a call to go to Town Hospital and due to the fact, there were no other doctors available, they may as we
ll close the centre for the evening.
Evening? What evening? It’s bloody night time now, the ‘evening’ is over.
Sending Luke, a text message much earlier on, to say she was called into work and would be late home, she now sent him another one, to say she would be leaving and should be home shortly.
The text he responded with, saying he was watching the end of the golf tournament on television, then going to bed. Saying he left her a ready meal in the microwave for her dinner, did nothing to better her mood at all.
Turning off the monitor and computer, she switched off the lights and made her way to the main door.
Inputting the code to activate the buildings alarm on the panel next to the door, she quickly closed the door after her, inserting and turning the key to close the shutters.
She turned the corner of the building to make her way to the carpark located behind the centre.
Only a couple of the nearby street lights worked, leaving the carpark in relative darkness.
Seeing her car in the dimness, she made her way across the carpark.
Reaching the middle of the carpark, halfway the distance to her car, she heard a noise from its direction, moaning and scraping from the nearby bushes.
Stopping and listening, she could hear the light sound of something moaning, accompanying the sounds of the bushes moving.
Turning quickly to face the other way, she could see nothing but the dark shape of the centre and the streetlights in the road beyond.
A shadow appeared to her left, causing her heart to catch in her throat, startling her enough to drop her hand bag onto the tarmac.
A black cat ran across the carpark, to the shed containing the refuse bins of the centre.
Reaching them, it leapt atop of the wall, before disappearing, melding into the blackness.
Bastard!
She knelt to retrieve the contents spilt from her bag, her tight skirt ensuring it a difficult enough task, even without the hindrance of the inadequate lighting in the car park.
Where are my bloody keys?
Picking up her mobile phone, she keyed one of the buttons to activate its screen.
