by G G Garcia
“This whole area, man.” Tony continued to peer out of the window and looked out and up to the murky heavens. The clouds looked unusual, almost brown in colour.
“We’ve gone by this area over a hundred times,” Paul scoffed. “And now the place is freakin’ ya out?”
“I know, but it’s never looked this creepy before,” said Tony, and continued to look outside.
“Ya tired,” Paul began to cackle. He winced and then began to pick at his left itchy ear with his forefinger. “Ya just need a sleep. I know I do.”
“Stop picking, man.” Tony looked on in disgust. “That’s gross.”
“I can’t help it. It’s my flaky skin. I’ve got some stuff for it at home, but doesn’t seem to be doin’ the trick.”
Tony faced the front and looked up to the creepy heavens. He shook his head and sighed, “Imagine if we broke down.”
“Stop it!” Demi yelled from the back of the car. “It’s freaky enough as it is. I hate the countryside. Especially when it’s dark like this.”
“Jesus,” Paul moaned. “Not you as well.”
Her friend next to her, Emma, never said a word and had her head down, smiling to herself, and was playing with her iPhone. Craig was sitting next to her and his head dropped every now and then. Sleep was sneaking up on him. He was trying to fight it, but he was losing the battle.
“This reminds me of that Hammer House of Horror episode from the eighties, man,” said Tony, and began to crack his knuckles.
Paul flashed Tony a hard look and said, with his face screwed up, “I wish ya would stop doin’ that.”
Tony ignored Paul and continued, “It was a great episode.”
“Hammer House of Horror? How do you remember that, Tony?” Craig Shepherd chuckled from the back. He looked at Emma and flashed the attractive girl a smile, but she was otherwise engaged, texting somebody. Craig asked further, “Wasn’t that a bit before our time?”
“It was on the Horror Channel.” Tony had finished cracking his knuckles and added, “It was an episode where some family were driving in the countryside.”
“I think I know which one ya talkin’ about,” Paul Newbold decided to join in on the conversation. “Is that the one with the hitchhiker?”
Tony laughed, “That’s the one.”
“I know which one you’re talking about now, mate,” Craig said, rubbing his eyes.
“What happened?” Demi asked, whilst Emma remained quiet. She had now put her phone away and was nodding off in the back.
“A family were drivin’ along a country lane, like this one.” Paul decided to be the storyteller. “And picked up a hitchhiker in the pourin’ rain, wearin’ a yellow waterproof jacket and hat.”
“Anyway,” Craig interrupted from the back and couldn’t help himself. “The hiker had this long fingernail and rammed it in the driver’s throat, and he ended up crashing the car.”
“Oh.” Demi shifted in her seat uncomfortably and placed her clammy hands on her trousers.
“I remember an episode called Carpathian Eagle,” Paul began. “It was about a woman that thinks she’s possessed by the spirit of a murderess, and ends up going on a killin’ spree herself. One of Pierce Brosnan’s early television roles.”
Paul realised he was waffling and decided to stop before he put everybody to sleep.
Emma’s eyes opened and she pulled out her phone after feeling it vibrate and took a look, and then texted back.
“Who is it?” Demi enquired.
“Henry,” Emma sighed. “Wondering where I am.”
“Who’s Henry?" asked Craig, who was sitting next to her. He tried to have a peek at her phone, but she moved it at an angle so he couldn’t see.
“Emma’s older brother,” Demi replied.
“Demi knows him well,” Emma began to tease. “Don’t you, Demi?”
“Shut up.” Demi playfully nudged her friend. “It was a one off.”
“One off?” Emma scoffed. “You and my brother were at it for weeks.”
“Oh, did you and this Henry used to shag?” Tony probed from the front.
“Mind your own fucking business,” Demi snapped. “I don’t even know you.”
“Charming,” laughed Tony. “We give you a lift, and then you speak to me like that.”
“You’re not giving me a lift,” Demi sighed. “Paul is.”
“What kind of a name is Henry anyway?” Tony began to laugh, and then Paul joined in. “I wouldn’t even call my dog Henry.”
“Wit’s his second name?” asked Paul. “Winkler? Rollins?”
“Come on,” Tony spoke up. “Let the fish out the bag. What is it?”
“Fish out the bag?” Demi cackled. “Don’t you mean … cat?”
“Ya will have to forgive my friend,” said Paul. “He tends to get his sayings mixed up.”
“It’s not Henry the Engine, is it?” Tony laughed, but nobody else joined in on his poor attempt at humour.
Emma couldn’t help herself, and was annoyed that they were taking the piss out of someone they didn’t even know. “No, it’s Brown,” Emma groaned, and said with a smile, “He hangs around with a guy called Maxwell. Heard of them?”
Tony and Paul took a quick look at one another and seemed stunned by the confession. Was she joking? Was this her way of shutting them up? If it was, then it worked.
Unlike his two friends in the front, Craig wasn’t sure about the names Henry and Maxwell. He was the first one to open his mouth and asked, “Henry and Maxwell? Is that the two main drug dealers in Rugeley?”
Emma moaned, “Forget I said anything.”
“I heard they carry guns,” Craig continued, ignoring Emma’s plea. “They make Ziggy look like a choirboy.”
“Who’s Ziggy?”
“Some mental case from my street.” Craig narrowed his eyes and said, “Hang on. Were Henry and Maxwell the ones that shot that dealer Terry Knowles in the Tesco car park? Wasn’t he shot in the legs?”
“Who’s Terry Knowles?” asked Tony.
“A drug dealer. His brother is Billy Knowles. A proper psycho.”
“Don’t be silly.” Emma shifted in her seat uncomfortably and added, “Let’s change the subject.”
There was a silence in the car and Paul and Tony especially looked tetchy, wondering what else to say, rather than having an uncomfortable silence for the remainder of the journey. Paul may have ridiculed Henry Brown’s name, but he had helped his little sister out and had given her and her pal a ride home, so he wasn’t too worried.
“Anyway, back to Hammer House of Horror,” Craig spoke up, but by this time the interest had waned. “I liked the one with the pet shop.”
“That’s the one with Peter Cushing.” Paul looked at Craig in the rear view mirror and nodded. “Brian Cox was in it as well.”
“Who?” Tony queried.
“He was in that film we watched. The Autopsy of Jane Doe.”
The car fell silent.
Paul continued to drive at a steady forty, along the Stafford Road, and looked up at the eerie sight of the black and grey clouds that hung above them. It was nearly 4am, and it was darker than it should have been, thanks to the army of clouds, ready to release their contents over the land.
Tony also looked up, yawned, and stated the obvious. “Looks like it’s going to rain, man.”
Paul looked to his side, at Tony, and then in the mirror at his three passengers. They all looked exhausted. No wonder. They had been drinking for hours, and sensible people would have been in their beds four or five hours ago.
“Remember that horror annual you used to have, Paul?” Craig spoke from the back, and all could see the pub up ahead. It was The Wolseley Arms.
“I do.” Paul nodded with a smile. “Dracula Spinechillers Annual 1982.”
“We used to read that when we were kids,” Craig laughed.
“I remember,” said Paul, and could see that Demi and Emma had nodded off in the back, and Tony was also struggling. “It was
my dad’s.”
“I remember the stories in there. There was one about a werewolf.”
“It was the two main comics that I remember,” Paul said with a smile, still feeling tired himself. Two miles to go. “Castle Dracula and Twins of Evil.”
Paul looked at Demi and Emma again and then flashed Craig a smile. “Wit do ya reckon?” he said softly.
Craig knew what he meant and whispered, “Out of our league, mate.”
“They’re single ... apparently.”
“So are we,” Craig chuckled. “They’re still too good for us.”
Paul looked ahead and then above for a few seconds. The sky was a peculiar dull colour and the scene made his vertebrae shudder. He flicked his wiper as the rain came down and carpet-bombed the area, and now he couldn’t wait to get home.
“When was the last time ya saw Kerry?”
“Kerry?” Craig rubbed his clean-shaven face in thought and then shrugged his shoulders. “She hasn’t been around for days. One of those friends with benefits deals we have, know what I mean?”
“I wish I did,” Paul sighed. “The old pocket rocket hasn’t seen any action in two months.”
“Two months?” Craig released a laugh, disturbing the girls in the back. “You’re almost as sad as Tony, mate. You’ve never been with many since you split up with Marion, three years ago.”
“I have my reasons,” Paul snapped.
“Man, you went weird for ages when she dumped you, mate. You was drunk constantly, you nearly lost your job, and—”
“Gonna drop it?”
Craig laughed and said, “It was three years ago, Paul. Don’t be so sensitive.”
“Just drop it … please. Let’s change the subject.”
“Okay. Back to Tony.”
Paul looked to his side to his front passenger, Tony Willetts, who was in dreamland, his head drooping as if he had broken his neck. Paul shushed Craig and shook his head.
“What is it?” Craig asked with his voice raised. The rain was coming down heavy and Paul had his full beam on and his wipers at full speed, and was still struggling to see properly.
“He might hear ya. Leave him alone.”
“Aw, come on, mate. He’s twenty four.”
“He’ll find someone eventually.” Paul now took his foot slightly off the accelerator and reduced the car’s speed to twenty-five.
“Find someone?” Craig snickered.
“For all we know, he could have been someone, but kept it secret.”
“No way, mate,” Craig laughed. “I would know.”
Paul looked at Craig through the rear view mirror. If only you knew the truth.
“He needs some desperate bird to practice on before he meets someone he really likes. Otherwise, they’ll think he’s some kind of weirdo if he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
“Someone to practice on?” Paul didn’t know whether to laugh at Craig’s comments or be offended. “Have ya heard yaself?”
“It’s about time that he—”
“Shit!” Paul screamed.
Something darted across the road, forcing Paul to slam on the brakes, waking up his sleeping passengers immediately. He steered away to the right, making the car’s tyres squeal, as well as the three passengers in the back. The Corsa span one-eighty degrees and came to a stop.
Paul switched the engine off and took a look at his shaking hands. He could hear the panicky breath of his passengers, but nobody spoke. All five were trying to let the frightening episode sink in.
The rain was relentless, and hammered on the roof so viciously that it sounded like nails bouncing off the top of the vehicle. It was as if Mother Nature wanted to cave it in.
Paul looked to the side of him. He could see Tony staring into nothingness, confused. He then looked over his shoulder and asked his three passengers in the back, “Is everybody okay?”
Chapter Three
Melvin Leslie puffed out a breath and turned to his side to see the dark lump in the bed next to him. She was snoring again. She sounded like a hog with asthma.
Melvin huffed and sat up, shaking his head. “Fucking lump,” he muttered under his breath.
He knew that if she heard him, he’d get a verbal lashing from the woman. He got out of bed and stepped out of the bedroom, moaning to himself, and went to the toilet for a pee. He moaned as the dark yellow urine gushed out. He closed the lid down once he was finished, and didn’t flush so he didn’t alert her.
The last time he went for a pee in the middle of the night or early in the morning, he flushed the toilet and had woken up his wife. To say she was unhappy would have been an understatement. Melvin had received a dressing down from his angry wife and was called a selfish prick, before she stomped her way back to bed. He muttered something under his breath as she stormed off, something like: “You fucking cow.” This comment forced her to turn around and she squared up to her husband, demanding to know what he had said. At first he thought she was going to hit him, but her snarling had diluted and she went back to bed.
Their relationship for the last ten years or so had been one riddled with antagonism. Melvin had no idea why she was so annoyed with him. The pair never had kids, not for the want of trying in the past, and neither did they have any family around them. It was just the two of them. And most of the time they hated the sight of each other.
Melvin would love to have left the woman, but he had nowhere to go. He didn’t have the best-paid job in the world, and couldn’t afford to have a place of his own. But why should he be the one to move out?
The house had been paid off, so why should he live alone in a new place whilst she’d be living in a house with the mortgage all paid for? He had helped pay for the place over the years, so it was a matter of seeing which one of them died first. They were both in their fifties, and Melvin was aware that she could live for another twenty years at least, unless she had some kind of nasty fall.
He made his way downstairs and decided to sit in the gloomy living room for a while. Maybe he would dose off on the couch for a few hours.
His eyes were getting heavy and his head lowered by an inch as the tiredness began to sneak up on him once more.
His eyes widened and his head was raised once a noise was heard out the front. His house was detached, only a few existed on the Wolseley Road, and he was aware that the noise could be anything. It could be a fox, a stray dog, or an escaped animal from one of the local farms.
They lived in the countryside, two miles from Rugeley Town, with the village of Little Haywood half a mile up the road. They were on the right side of the Wolseley Bridge. Over the bridge was The Wolseley Arms pub, on the other side of the road, and because the Wolseley Road was a country road, there were no streetlights.
Many a night Melvin had walked along the road whenever he couldn’t sleep. It was an eerie place, especially when a full moon was out, shining on the River Trent, but it was his home and there was hardly a soul around usually.
Melvin could hear his wife’s snoring coming through the ceiling, as his bedroom was above him, and shook his head. “Jesus Christ,” he huffed. The only positive was that he didn’t have work until Monday.
He heard another noise, coming from the front of the house, and went over to his front window and peered out. Dawn was breaking, so he could see a little, as well as the sun bleeding over the horizon like a wounded animal. Two hours previous and all he would have been able to see was darkness.
He gasped when a solitary figure ran by his house, along the country road. It looked like a male, and he was running away from the pub and looked like he was heading in the direction of the village of Little Haywood.
A scream could then be heard, and Melvin didn’t know whether it was people misbehaving or if somebody was in trouble. That scream took him back. It took him back twenty-one years. A day he would never forget.
He brought himself back to reality and thought about what he had just heard and decided not to act on it.
�
�Best to leave it,” he muttered.
Chapter Four
“I think I might have pissed myself, man,” Tony blurted out. After the car had come to a stop, he was the first person to eventually speak after Paul asked if they were all okay.
Both Tony and Paul gazed out of the windscreen and watched hypnotically as the rain came down, bouncing of the glass.
“I need to get out,” said Emma. She reached for the door and stumbled out onto the road, into the pouring rain.
“Are ya mad?” Paul called out. “It’s pissin’ down outside.”
“Emma!” Demi called out. “We don’t know what’s out there.”
Emma never responded to her friend’s comment. Nobody knew why she was desperate to get out, until she went to the other side of the road, stood on the grass bank, and threw up.
Demi looked out at the miserable weather and was reluctant to go out and see her friend. The three guys in the car were people that were from their area, but she didn’t know them. Emma and Demi only got chatting with Paul when they found out he had a car and all three were based in Rugeley. Demi and Emma were attractive, single, and spent most of the night in the club being chatted up by horny young men who only had one thing on their minds. Most of their drinks had been bought by other men and they were invited to a small party minutes before the place closed.
The plan was to go to the party, and then get a cab home. But once they got talking to Paul, they realised that they could save themselves thirty quid if they were nice enough.
Most young men were like excited puppies whenever they were around Demi and Emma, almost pathetic, but Paul was different. He never flirted with either of them and asked them if they wanted a ride home. He seemed different to most men, not sleazy, and seemed genuine, making the girls feel at ease. Their parents would feel uncomfortable if they found out that their girls had been taken home by three males, but Paul Newbold was different. He was mature for his age, and seemed to have an old head on young shoulders. Maybe he was gay, Demi thought. The two of them weren’t used to young men not flirting with them.
Tony and Craig were different, however. They were like lovesick puppies when the two girls got in the back of the car, but not the driver. Not Paul Newbold.
