Sinclair

by Ryan Green

  One of them started to shake her head but the other one, now snuggled in under Gordon’s arm answered for them both. ‘Of course. It’s the weekend, isn’t it?’

  Angus smiled again, so wide that his cheeks ached, then he led them off into the dark.

  Inside the campervan they kept the party going. Passing around cans of lager and taking ticklish sips from tiny bottles of BabyCham as the girls cackled and mouthed back to each other, ‘Love the BabyCham’, as if they were in the advert from the cinema. Angus said that they were heading to a house out in suburbia and without missing a beat Gordon started furnishing the girls with details about the imaginary party. Gordon was doing such a good job of keeping the girls entertained that they didn’t even notice that they had left the city entirely. Angus was starting to consider bringing the young lad along on every single ‘fishing trip’ if he continued to be this useful. Right out in the middle of the pitch black nowhere, Angus pulled the van over between the hedgerows and turned off the engine. The girls were still mid giggle, but one of them managed to ask, ‘Are we finally at the party?’

  Angus grinned and unbuckled his belt. ‘We brought all the party you’re going to need with us, darling. Now, which one of you lovely ladies wants to go first?’

  They looked at each other, still giggling away. The sound of their mockery was like nails being hammered directly into Angus' brain. ‘I said which one of you wants to be fucked first?'

  Gordon was looking at Angus with something like horror on his face. He had never seen his brother-in-law behaving like this before and he wasn’t sure if the disgust churning in his gut was enough to overcome the raw embarrassment or the treacherous spark of excitement inside him. The girls looked at him for confirmation that this was just a joke, and he made his decision. His eyebrows drew down and he growled, ‘Him or me. Which one do you want first?’

  One of the girls made a break for the door but Angus was already there, grabbing her by the hair and tossing her onto the floor like she was nothing. The other one was still sitting paralysed beside Gordon, so he took a hold of her wrist in case she tried anything stupid. Angus drew some cord out of his pocket. It must have been there all night. All day that they had been together, he had that rope in his pocket and he was planning this. That knowledge was like electricity on Gordon’s skin. This wasn’t a night gone wrong, this was Angus’ plan going perfectly right. He was part of the plan. He tightened his grip on the girl’s wrist as Angus tied up the one who had tried to escape. With a smirk, Angus tossed him what was left of the rope. He wet his lips. ‘Do her.’

  Then he picked his girl up by the hair and dragged her across to the bed as she screamed. There was a sound of ripping cloth from behind them and Gordon tried to concentrate on what he was doing, his numb fingers fumbling the knots that Angus had made look so easy a moment ago. The girl was sobbing now, straining to see what was happening to her friend, as if she wasn’t about to experience it first-hand. Gordon didn’t have the same fury as Angus. When he had the girl tied up he carefully unzipped and unbuttoned her clothes, tugging them up and down without being able to remove them completely. Eventually, he gave up and just climbed on top of her.

  The screaming was punctuated by other sounds now. There was a steady percussion of flesh and bone colliding, but some of it was Angus’ fists pummelling his girl every time she made a sound. When she stopped screaming, he hammered into her harder until she made a noise again to excuse the next round of violence. By the time he was done with her, the pretty young girl that they had met in the World’s End was fading behind the deep red of blossoming bruises. Drool, tears and snot were pouring down her face. Angus had stuffed her torn panties into her mouth, but it did little to silence the deep guttural moaning.

  When it was Gordon’s turn he couldn’t even look at her. He just stared down at her chest as he mechanically moved against her. The girl he had taken first was shrieking now from whatever Angus was doing to her and Gordon was losing his rhythm. Intrusive thoughts were creeping in. How were they going to keep these girls quiet when they were done? There was no way that they wouldn’t recognise mugshots. There was no way that they weren’t going to go running to the police. He had slowed in his movements and the girl beneath him was letting out a low steady moan, more animal than human. She was twisted around, trying not to look at Gordon as he raped her, but she had ended up watching Angus as he worked over her friend instead. The screams from Angus’ side turned to gurgles, and Gordon was forced to look over too.

  Angus was choking the girl with another length of cord. He was inside her and he was choking her to death. Gordon’s stomach turned but he kept thrusting. The girl beneath him let out a wail, so he hammered into her harder and faster, trying to forget what was happening beside him. Trying to forget what he was an accomplice to. Just as he was about to finish he leaned in close to her ruined face and barked out. ‘See what is happening to her? He is going to do you next. You are next.’

  She started sobbing, and that was all Gordon needed.

  Angus dragged the dead girl out of the van and off into a field, still naked from the waist down and shivering in the cold night’s air. Gordon looked from him to the girl still breathing in the campervan and he had a brief wild moment when he thought about letting her go. Surely, she wouldn’t klipe on him. Not when he had just saved her life from Angus? He pushed the thought away as he scrambled back into his clothes. Angus wouldn’t let her live after what she had seen, and he couldn’t let Gordon live either if he thought that there was even a chance that he might betray him. Gordon had to prove that he was loyal. That he could be trusted with this last secret part of Angus that he had never seen before and never planned to see again. Angus found his trousers when he got back into the campervan but as he pulled them up he paused to wiggle his backside at Gordon, who choked on his own laughter. The girl didn’t say anything. She was just lying there now, beaten bloody and trying to hide from the world outside by retreating into her own mind. It wouldn’t help.

  Angus nodded at her. ‘We’ll take that one someplace else. That way they might find one and not the other, should just be a quick drive.’

  Gordon nodded nervously then joined Angus in the front seats. ‘You know Angus, I’ve never done anything like this before…’

  Angus chuckled, ‘Aye, I could tell. Don’t worry. I’m not going to make you finish her off. I’m not a complete bastard. I can see you’re shaken.’

  Gordon let out another wheezing laugh. ‘I’m just not used to this sort of thing. You know. Like, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and I appreciate getting a turn on the two lassies last night but…’

  ‘You pussying out on me? Is that it? Is it all getting a bit too scary?’

  ‘Aye. That’s right. I didn’t sign up to kill any lassies. Just to have a good time.’

  Angus snorted. ‘That was a good time. Are you kidding? You’re trying to tell me that wasn’t the most fun you’ve ever had?’

  ‘That is exactly what I am trying to tell you.’

  Angus fell silent for a moment as he pulled out onto the main road, then he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Alright then. I’m not going to make you do something you don’t want to.’

  ‘And I’ll not say anything about this to anybody,’ Gordon added. Angus shook his head. ‘Of course you won’t you silly bastard. You are the accomplice to the murder of two young lassies. They’d have you in the nick for the rest of your life if you were daft enough to say anything to anybody. I know you, Gordie, you might not be the smartest lad in the world but you’re not that stupid.’

  Gordon fell back into silence. The only sound was the van’s engine and the sniffing sobs from in the back. Angus nodded in that direction. ‘We’ll be driving for a bit if you want another go on her. She isn’t as pretty as she used to be but I’m sure you could find something to do with yourself.’

  Gordon suppressed a shudder. ‘I’m fine thanks. Not much face left for kissing is there? You really did a numb
er on her.’

  Angus smirked. ‘I told her not to scream. Isn’t my fault she wouldn’t do as she was told.’

  When they arrived at the next field it was closer to dawn than to midnight and the hard day’s drinking and exercise were starting to take its toll. Angus choked the life out of the girl with his bare hands as she let out little croaks. But he was too tired to really squeeze, so he just put all of his weight on her instead. Her windpipe collapsed under the pressure, but she didn’t pass out the way she would have if he had been squeezing her the way he was meant to. The one eye that wasn’t completely sealed in with swelling bulged out of her head as she tried to gasp for air and she writhed about. Even in these final moments, she was still trying to save herself. Trying to escape. Before another minute had passed, she flopped down, limp. Angus watched her carefully for a few minutes more, then when he was certain that she was dead, he had Gordon take her ankles and between the two of them they hoisted her up and tossed her into the field. Angus spat in the ditch and lit a cigarette, looking up at the stars stretching out above them. ‘You never see them in the city, do you?’

  Gordon looked up and tried to pretend that it was just the pricking cold making his eyes water. ‘No, you never do.’

  Angus was grinning, but he still hadn’t quite been sated. Two at once wasn’t doing the trick, and the added stress of managing Gordon was more trouble than it was worth. He needed something new to keep the fire burning. He needed change. He blinked the stars out of his eyes and gave Gordon a pat on the shoulder. The boy was shivering but Angus couldn’t bring himself to care, what a wasted opportunity Gordon had turned out to be. They clambered back into the van and Angus sighed. At least now he was guaranteed the boy’s loyalty. There was no lie too ridiculous for Gordon to repeat after what he had seen and done tonight. Angus had him by the balls for the rest of his life. Accomplice to murder. Rape. They were the chains that he could use to bind Gordon for the rest of time. The boy had only a few limited uses, but now there didn’t need to be any fair trade. He didn’t have to furnish the boy with dancing partners and booze in exchange for his silence now. All that he had to do was give him his marching orders. Not the worst outcome that tonight could have had, but not as good as a full-time subservient partner could have been.

  Agnes Cooney

  Being a nurse meant being on your feet all day, every day, and nobody knew that better than Agnes Cooney. That meant that the few precious days she wasn't working, she liked to have a nice long lie in her bed and a good portion of the day sitting on her backside. Hiking all over the city looking for a new place to live, even in the company as pleasant as her best friend Gina, was not her idea of a good time. She could tell that Gina was feeling equally cheerful after they had been to see the third flat up three flights of tenement stairs. They had taken the morning to themselves and met at midday with the property agent. They had both had enough by dinnertime. Gina looked like she was ready to drop, and Agnes didn’t feel much better. The south side of Glasgow had been Agnes’ home for a good few years now while she worked in the children’s ward, and while she wouldn’t claim to know it like the back of her hand, she knew it well enough to find her way through the warrens of streets to find Westmoreland Street and the Clada Social Club, where they could sit down and have a quiet drink for the rest of the night without threats of dancing or more walking. A couple of drinks turned into a couple more and the night stretched on and on until midnight closing arrived and Agnes realised with a groan that she had to be up again in the morning for her shift. She gave Gina a hug goodbye and headed out the door to look for a taxi, waving her arms at traffic as she made her way along the street in the hope of one spotting her before she finally found the taxi rank. It didn’t take long for a campervan to swing up to the pavement beside her and for the passenger door to pop open. Angus gave Agnes a big smile, ‘You need a lift home, hen?’

  In her addled state, she took his van for a taxi and his catcall as an invitation. He helped haul her up into the seat beside him and then he drove off. Before long she dozed off in the warmth and the gentle rocking. Angus had never had such easy pickings. He had barely driven fifty feet away from the door of the tenement in Glasgow where he had been staying recently before a fresh victim was proudly presenting itself on the side of the road. It was good timing. He had been itching to try something new ever since those daft wee girls from Edinburgh had turned out to be such a disappointment.

  The drive out to Lanarkshire was almost completely peaceful. Angus found himself almost bubbling over with energy that had no outlet. Normally he would be smoothing things over, laying on lie after lie to keep the girl complacent, but tonight everything had just fallen into his lap. There had been no work. There had been no hunt. It was like the universe just wanted to give him this moment of release without making him work for it. He wasn’t sure that he liked it. At least it gave him some time to think, some time to plan ahead. He knew that he wanted to try something new and this was the perfect opportunity to stretch his creativity. He caught himself drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and frowned. There would be plenty of time for action soon.

  When they arrived somewhere suitably devoid of human life, he hauled the girl back through to the bed in the back, but she barely stirred from her stupor. Angus briefly wondered if the girl had been drugged, if some other bastard had been stalking her all night and doing all of his legwork for him, but she came around just fine when he started to tear her clothes off. Once he had her completely naked he twisted her clothes into something like ropes and bound her. It wouldn’t do for the police to find the same twine on too many corpses. Connections got you caught. Fear had driven all of the sleepy drunkenness from her body in a wash of adrenaline. Her eyes weren’t just open, they were bulging wide and white as he pushed inside her with his hand clamped tight over her mouth. He hammered away at her until he drew blood, but it still wasn’t doing anything for him. He slipped his hand down to squeeze her neck, and while it did make other parts of her flex and tremor in interesting ways, it still wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever enough to sate this hunger. Nothing could scratch this itch. He needed more.

  He didn’t remember picking up the knife, he certainly didn’t remember hiding it back here under the pillow to begin with. Perhaps it was more serendipity. Maybe she was meant to end up here. Maybe he was meant to do this. That would explain why he wanted to so badly. He was fulfilling his purpose in all of this. He traced the blade down between her breasts, drawing a red line on her pale skin and drawing a frantic panting from her panty-gagged mouth. That seemed to work. He started moving again, the knife’s tip bouncing with each thrust, just barely brushing her skin. Just letting her feel the sharpness without ever going deeper. Soon he was panting right back, and she was letting out high pitched shrieks that sent sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. It was almost enough. He was so close to his satisfaction that he could already taste the coppery flavour on his lips. He slammed the knife down into her stomach and he felt like the life was being torn out of him in each gasping breath. With the next thrust of the knife, his eyes rolled up into his head and he let out a guttural roar. He had never felt pleasure like this, he had never been so powerful as when that knife passed so easily through her skin to dig into the hidden things down below. Again and again, he stabbed into her. With each one, his joy grew greater and more all-encompassing until in the end, he could feel nothing but sweet release and delight.

  When he came back down it was like the only time he had used the diving board at the local pool. He went from the blissful joy of flying to a sudden horrible impact, then nothing more than the sensation of being soaking wet. When he looked down, all that he could see was red. His clothes, the bed, everything was soaked in blood. Thick and dripping with it. Gore was trickling down to puddle about his feet, running in rivulets down his legs from the raw mess that he had made out of this girl’s body. He tried to count the number of stab wounds but kept losing count about twenty. His hea
d was pounding like he had a hangover from a three-day bender. He had to remember to breathe as he tried to pull his mind back together.

  He looked down at the gruesome remains of his evening's pleasure and he said, ‘Bollocks.' He needed to clean this up. He needed to get rid of the body and wash himself. He would need to scrub out the whole campervan. He would probably have to replace the whole mattress. He doubted it could be saved, even if the quilt had soaked up most of the outpouring of his passion. The whole campervan reeked like a slaughterhouse, the sharp iron tinge of blood undercut by the faint hint of offal and the putrid tang of ruptured bowels. He had done this. He had made a woman into nothing more than a heap of meat. He tried to scoop up the blood that was pouring down onto the floor and slop it back up onto the bed, but he gave up and collapsed in a fit of laughter. Maybe hungover wasn't the right word for it. He was still drunk on all of that power. Aftershocks were still rippling through his body. Between the moments of altered consciousness, his mind slowly fell back into its old mechanical patterns, calculating his best odds. He would toss the corpse, find one of his regular fishing spots to wash up and burn whatever couldn’t be salvaged from the back of the van. She was slippery to the touch and he had to hook his fingers into wounds and crevices to get a grip on her at all, so instead of an arduous hike, he just tossed her right out of the side door of the van without even bothering to hide her from plain sight. What did it matter if the police found her, there was nothing connecting him to her. No witnesses. No motive. No connection to his other killings. Nothing. He was going to get away with murder, forever.

  Mary Gallacher