Death City

by Sam West

  But why didn’t they kill me? Why did they just leave me?

  Her gaze flickered to Jean-Paul. He was lying unmoving on his back, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling.

  Zara spun around in her sitting position and vomited on the ground next to her. That done, she struggled to her feet.

  Act first, questions later. She was alive, and that was good enough right now. She was going to get help. She staggered from the room, leaving her boyfriend dead on the floor behind her.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “What’s with those bloody sirens tonight?” Luke Jones said to his brother as he knocked back the last of his pint of Doomsday.

  He stood with his brother Jon in the much smaller, back bar of The Hare and Hound, a spot usually reserved for the older crowd. Sounds of beyond were muted in here, and the wail of sirens was only faint, mostly thanks to the thickness of the small door that separated this section of the pub from the main drinking area. Also, the other, main part of the pub separated this back bar from the beer garden which overlooked the main road, further cushioning outside noise.

  He didn’t know why, but that faintest wail of sirens bothered him.

  “What sirens? I can’t hear anything,” Jon replied.

  Luke strained his ears, but now he couldn’t hear anything, either. Probably because the dopey barman had just cranked up the music.

  He looked around himself. There was currently a lull in this small room, although it had been filling up in fits and starts, old fart bar, or not. It was mostly people briefly spilling in from the beer garden to be served, but still, it would get far too busy in here for Luke’s liking. It was, however, eight p.m. on a Saturday night, and there would be no escaping the revellers from this point in. Inwardly, he sighed, wishing this moment’s peace in here would last.

  People, he thought. Not really a fan.

  “Why are you getting all uptight about a passing ambulance or something?”

  “I’m not getting uptight,” Luke lied.

  “Yeah, you are. There’s always bloody sirens in bloody Ashburn. It’s called life in the city,” Jon retorted. “Not something you would know about since you live in the back of beyond in bumfuck country.”

  Luke bristled, despite knowing full well that his brother was just goading him. “Truro is hardly bumfuck country. It’s a proper city.”

  “Dude, it’s in Cornwall.”

  “So? Ashburn isn’t exactly London, is it?”

  “It’s the second biggest city in the Southeast.”

  “That’s not saying much. I mean, there’s London, and then there’s Canterbury and Ashburn. They’re not much bigger than Truro.”

  “Whatever, dude. You’re still a country hick. And it’s your round.”

  Luke sighed. Why did they always have to bicker? And why were they arguing about their respective cities like they were comparing penis size, or something? It was just so immature and draining. He turned away from his brother and leaned more assertively against the wooden bar-top in an attempt to catch the barman’s eye, but he had lost out to the stunning blonde that had just that second waltzed up to the opposite end of the bar, where a solitary barfly separated them – an elderly, thin gentleman, perched on his stool, nursing a tumbler filled with two fingers of amber liquid with a little jug of water next to it.

  Jon’s stunning blonde, he reminded himself. It was the very same girl that his big brother had been drooling over since they had arrived at The Hare and Hound half an hour ago. Okay, so his brother hadn’t put the moves on her yet, but that was surely just a question of time, and when he did, she would inevitably fuck him. They always did.

  Jon nudged him excitedly in the ribcage. “Fuck, it’s her. Excuse me, little brother, but I think I need to get that gorgeous woman’s round in.”

  Luke rolled his eyes. “I doubt Cathy would share that sentiment.”

  “Yeah, well, Cathy’s not here, is she?”

  “No, she isn’t,” Luke shot back. “She’s at home, looking after your perfect children, in your perfect house, waiting for her perfect husband to come home after a night out down the local.”

  “Are you starting again, bro? Why did you even come to stay with us if you’re gonna be a prick about stuff?”

  “For fuck’s sake, you know why. And I’m a prick, now? I’m not the one that fucks around behind his wife’s back.”

  “My relationship with my wife is none of your business. You know nothing about what goes on between us, or what kind of a woman she really is.”

  His reply left him stumped for words. There was so much he could reply to that – as in, yes, he knew exactly what kind of woman Cathy was. She was the beautiful, gentle, intelligent kind of woman that most men would give their left nut to be with. The kind of woman, in fact, that he’d been harbouring a crush on since Jon had first introduced them ten years ago, back when he’d been a spotty, weedy seventeen-year-old, still living at home with their mum, and Jon had been a strapping, spot-free twenty-year-old, away at Ashburn University studying Structural Engineering.

  Luke knew that Jon loved Cathy in his own way, that even he understood how special she was, which was why he took great pains to keep his numerous infidelities from her. Luke would’ve given anything to trade places with Jon, the ungrateful, two-timing man-whore.

  “Please don’t speak ill of Cathy,” Luke said primly. “You’re bloody lucky to have her.”

  Jon shot a knowing look his way – a look that was equal part smug and equal part sneer. “Yeah, well, we all know your feelings on Cathy, don’t we?”

  Despite being a relatively together twenty-seven-year-old, Luke felt himself blushing like he was bloody seventeen again – an effect that his big brother always had on him. He always made him feel inadequate – the less attractive of the pair, the less confident, the less successful; always, just lesser.

  “I dunno what you’re going on about.” He reached for his pint of Doomsday bitter, momentarily forgetting that he was dry, then cursed under his breath. “We’re here for Mum, remember? She made us promise.”

  Jon’s handsome features softened somewhat. “Yeah. You’re right.”

  They both fell silent for a moment, Luke lost in thoughts of their mother. Before her death two years ago, after a long, drawn-out battle with cancer, she had made them promise to meet up every year, on the anniversary of her death. Not so much to remember her, she had said, but to nurture their relationship. They had no one else, she had said: no father, no aunts, uncles or cousins. No other siblings.

  Luke let out a soft laugh – a sound that was filled more with sadness than humour. “Mum was fixated on the idea of us having a strong relationship, wasn’t she? Said she couldn’t bear for us to fall out and not be a part of each other’s life.”

  “Yeah, she did. Probably ‘cos we were always at each other’s throats growing up.”

  “We weren’t at each other’s throats. You were always beating me up.”

  “Fuck, do you have a selective memory or what? The amount of times I sorted out those bullies for you at secondary school.”

  “Only because you hated them, too. You wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”

  “You’re a real ungrateful nob, you know that?”

  The gorgeous blonde was now paying the barman, and Luke smiled across at him, awkwardly raising his hand as he did so, which only made him feel like a kid in a classroom asking teacher for a bathroom break.

  Next to him, Jon sighed heavily. “Great, I’ve missed my chance to get her round in. Thanks a lot.”

  Both he and Jon were watching the beautiful blonde, when she turned to smile at them.

  Or, more to the point, to Luke’s utter dismay, she smiled at him. At first, he thought that he had to be mistaken, for no woman looked at him when his brother was around. Whilst Luke understood that he could not be described as ugly by any stretch of the imagination, he felt that his looks paled in comparison to his brother’s. They were both tall, with the same piercing blue eye
s that they had inherited from their mother, but that’s where the similarity ended.

  Jon was all man, where Luke was decidedly effeminate. Jon had inherited his father’s sturdy bone structure – not that he could remember much about his father for he had walked out on them when Luke had been seven – but from his faded memory and a handful of photographs, Jon was clearly the spitting image. He had a movie-star jaw, complete with the obligatory dimple in his chin. His nose was just on the right side of big, and the planes of his cheeks were flat and masculine. He wore his dark hair cropped close to his scalp and he hit the gym hard.

  In comparison, Luke looked like a reed. Being naturally smaller boned than his brother, he figured that it would largely be a wasted effort to put in gym time. He would never get as big as Jon, so what would be the point? He was also as blonde as Jon was dark – a trait from his mother’s side of the family – and his bone structure was decidedly feminine. He hated his big cheekbones, delicate chin and narrow, turned up nose – he thought it made him look like a girl. So many people thought he was gay, probably because of his ‘pretty’ face, which pissed him off no end. Plus, the fact that he was a computer programmer didn’t help his cause with the opposite sex, or so he thought.

  And that stunning blonde couldn’t be smiling at him, she just couldn’t.

  “You have got to be shitting me,” Jon said when she made her way over to them, all smiles.

  Luke couldn’t believe it either, because it was definitely him that her big blue eyes had latched onto.

  “Hello,” she said to him, and him alone.

  “Hello,” he replied, his voice cracking on that second syllable.

  “So, me and my friends are in the beer garden, and we were wondering if you guys would like to join us?”

  Yet is was still him that she was addressing.

  “We would love to join you outside, wouldn’t we, Luke?” Jon said, elbowing him in the ribs.

  Luke flinched, irritated. “Er, yeah, sure, I guess.”

  “Great,” the girl smiled. “My name’s Leslie.”

  “I’m Jon,” Jon said, although she clearly wasn’t talking to him. “And this is my little brother, Luke.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Luke,” she said, smiling warmly at him.

  She has the most incredible blue eyes, Luke thought dazedly. In fact, in that moment, the girl barely seemed real to him. She was like a gorgeous, blonde angel, otherworldly to him in her beauty. She was even dressed in a white flowing dress that fell to her knees, and, if he didn’t know better, he would say that it was undulating in an invisible breeze, as was her long, flowing blonde hair.

  “Can I get you a drink?” he asked stupidly.

  “I’ve just got a round in,” she said, eyes twinkling.

  “Um, yeah. You did.”

  Luke felt the heat rushing to his cheeks.

  Well, that’s just marvellous.

  “I have five drinks to carry, maybe you guys could help me carry them out to my friends?”

  “Sure, sweetheart, we’re just getting a round in ourselves,” Jon said, smooth as always. “Are you sure we can’t tempt you with anything?”

  The beautiful girl turned her attention onto Jon, and Luke felt a sudden, stabbing loss, like a cloud had passed over the sun.

  “Well, a glass of water might be a good idea since you ask.”

  “Fizzy? Still?”

  “Oh, tap will be just fine.”

  “So,” Jon began, all smiles, standing slightly back from the bar so that he wouldn’t have to be the one to get the round in and therefore interrupt the conversation with the delectable Leslie. “Do you live here?”

  “I do, yes.”

  “Really? I haven’t seen you around.”

  “Oh, I mainly stay on campus. I’m a third-year student. Computer Science.”

  Luke’s head snapped round to look at her. “Really? Me too.”

  “You’re a student?”

  “No, I mean I did my degree in Computer Science six years ago. In Ashburn.”

  “No shit,” Leslie laughed, her blues shining in the most pleasing way.

  He slowly became aware of a presence next to him on the other side of the bar; the barman had clearly run out of other patrons to serve in this establishment.

  “Best get the drinks in, little brother.”

  Prick.

  “Same again, please,” Luke muttered, his neck feeling uncomfortably hot – his neck always flared an unattractive shade of red when he was embarrassed. Well, that’s just perfect. “And a glass of water too, please, if you don’t mind.”

  Jon was chatting to the girl about the new nightclub that had just opened in the city centre as he dealt with the barman, and he gritted his teeth in irritation.

  “Your water,” he said, when he had paid up, glad of the excuse to interrupt them.

  “Thanks.” Her fingers brushed his as she accepted it, and a little jolt of electricity flared in his hand.

  And outside, he thought that he heard screaming.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Did you hear that?” Luke asked.

  “Hear what?” his brother replied.

  “I thought I heard screaming.”

  Jon rolled his eyes. “It’s called having fun on a Saturday night, dear brother. You should try it sometime.”

  “It’s pretty raucous out there,” the girl said, but not at all bitchily, unlike Jon. “My friends really wanted to come here for the karaoke, there’s a whole bunch of people out there waiting for it to start.”

  Luke watched the beautiful girl sip her water, the strangest feeling curling around him. It was too hot in here, too stuffy, too sealed. He had never been one to suffer from claustrophobia, but the back of his neck was beginning to prickle and he was breaking out into a cold sweat.

  The music seemed to be getting louder in this sealed little room, too. But why it should, he did not know. The action happened next door, this was supposed to be the quiet area. Sure, people spilled in here from the beer garden to order drinks, but there was no one settled in here as such, apart from them and a few of the old timers, sitting at the back of the room. And that solitary old guy at the bar, nursing his whiskey, or brandy, with his little jug of water. Next door was where the action happened, be it a live band, or some function, or, in the case of tonight, karaoke.

  “You shouldn’t leave your drinks hanging around unattended, someone might spike them,” Jon said.

  He strode the short distance to where they were on the bar and scooped up four of them. That left Luke to carry his brother’s and his own pint, and Leslie to carry a glass of what looked like lemonade mixed with some short or other.

  Luke followed his brother’s lead, picking up the two pint glasses as the girl drained her glass of water.

  “Let’s go, then,” Jon said cheerily.

  Ordinarily, Luke would be mightily pissed off at this point – all he wanted was a quiet drink, for his mum’s sake. But there was no denying it, he was more than happy to follow this stunning creature wherever she may wander.

  Just as he turned to leave, the solitary old man propping up the bar began coughing violently. Luke winced at the harshness of his hacking – it sounded bad, like deathbed bad.

  He turned to look at him. Luke hadn’t given the old guy more than a cursory glance when he had first entered the pub, but he was pretty sure that the man hadn’t been quite that grey looking a few minutes ago.

  He continued to bark, hunched over the bar with the ferocity of the coughing fit, his back clearly so tense and quivering beneath the red plaid shirt.

  “Are you okay?” Luke asked, placing his drinks down on the bar again.

  The man didn’t answer, just continuing with that God-awful coughing that sent his body into fits of spasms. Then, just like that, he keeled over. His face hit the bar, landing with a dull thunk that was as sickening as it was almost anticlimactic. His arms hung loose, dangling straight down.

  The man was now completely st
ill.

  “Fuck,” Luke and Jon said in unison.

  “Is he dead?” Jon asked incredulously.

  “How the fuck should I know?” Luke snapped back.

  He pressed his fingers to the man’s neck, wincing at the feel of this stranger’s skin. For some reason, it made him think of an uncooked chicken carcass, and it took much willpower on his part not to snatch back his hand.

  “Can you feel a pulse?” the young barman asked as he swung up the bar hatch and came over to join them.

  “No,” Luke said. “But I’m no doctor, there could be one, for all I know.”

  Frantically, he patted himself down for his phone, only then remembering that he had left it in the pocket of his other jeans back at Jon and Cathy’s place. Jon remained standing there gaping at the old guy, still holding the four drinks in front of him, his usually tanned face sheet-white. Leslie did the same, although she was swaying on the spot, and was even whiter than Jon. It looked as if she was about to pass out.

  “Call a fucking ambulance,” Luke shouted – not just to his brother, Leslie and the barman but to the handful of older people sitting over on the other side of the room.

  His request was met with a flurry of raised voices, and then the opposite side of the room was a blur of movement, but just as Luke uttered those words, so Leslie dropped the glass that she was holding. Luke’s head snapped in her direction, finding himself positively reeling with the speed at which this insanity was unfolding.

  She hunched over, vomiting on the ground. In that moment, Luke was as paralysed by events as his brother. The music seemed to be even louder now, wrapping around him and bludgeoning his brain. He felt so sure that he was dreaming, that this simply couldn’t be real.

  And in his nightmare, the girl called Leslie vomited on her white sandals. And the vomit was red and black.

  Take on me…. sang the distinctly eighties voice, accompanied by the blaring synths.

  Jon dropped all four drinks he was holding, glass and liquid exploding around him.