Depravity (24 page)

“Can you see anything?” she asked. The other two girls had not moved from that door. “Pam, have you gone deaf or something? Will you answer me!”

Her sister slowly backed away from the door, not moving her gaze from that crack. Maddie hadn't moved an inch, all Katie could hear now were her friend's quiet sobs. The door opened a little wider, but it wasn't the girls pushing open the door. Katie's heart jumped into her throat at the sight of Jack Williams grinning at all of them. He held a pistol in his left hand. The cafe owner flicked the gun to the left and Maddie stumbled back. Pamela ran over to Katie and stood behind her chair.

“Hello there, Katie. Fancy meeting up with you again.” He looked down at Maddie. “I'm surprised to see you here, girl. I don't know what your father will think of you being involved with a pair of dirty Overtons. He'll be disappointed, that much I do know.”

“Leave now,” Katie growled. “Go on, fuck off before you get hurt, Jack.”

“God, ain't you the ballsy one! Where did this streak of guts appear from, honey? I mean, you didn't have this yesterday when I fucked you on one of the cafe tables.” He stood above Maddie. “I seem to recall you panting and asking me to push more of me inside you.” Jack laughed out loud. “I'm so going to miss you, Katie. You know you're going to die here?” He raised his pistol. “Pamela, you can go home. I have no beef with you.” The man paused, he ran his tongue over his lips. “Wait, scratch that, No, you'd better stay. Thing is, if I do your older sister, I'll be short of waitress at the cafe. There's also the annoying problem of having nothing to plough while I'm at work either.”

“What about me?”

Jack looked down at the girl between his legs. “What about you?”

“Well, don't you want to plough me as well?”

Jack lowered his gun arm. “I never really gave that any thought. I mean I.”

Maddie's arm whipped up and the small bladed knife she'd concealed under her fingers slammed into the man's scrotum. Thick blood gushed from the man's mouth as he tumbled backwards. Pamela rushed forward and dropped to her knees. The girl slowly removed her own knife from her sock, showed the blade to Jack before she brought it down into the palm of his hand.

“Why isn't he screaming? He ought to be screaming by now.”

Maddie pulled out her blade. She stood up and looked down at him. “I think he bit the end of his tongue off.”

Katie had managed to stand up. She walked over to the fallen man. This vile man had put her through hell since she'd started at the cafe. He'd abused her body daily, treated her like his personal slave and made her want to kill herself on more than one occasion. If it hadn't been for her sister and her best friend's kind words and comfort, Katie honestly believed that she would had followed that path. She retrieved her own knife and slowly lowered herself onto his chest.

“Stick it into his eye,” said Pamela. “Then push the knife up his nose.”

“No, cut off his cock and stuff it into his mouth. Then slit the bastard's throat.” Maddie waved her blood-coated knife in front of his face. “I used to fancy you when I was a kid. I thought you were kind and generous and your smile always used to make me weak at the knees. Then I found out what you did to my friend!”

Katie leaned closer to the man. “Do you see how hatred breeds more hatred, Jack? Grab his head!”

Both the girls held the man's head tight. As Katie rested the tip of her blade against the man's eyelid. “You deserve what they suggested and more, you dirty fucking cunt!” she roared. Katie pushed the knife through the thin skin and deep into Jack's eyes socket. Katie grabbed the handle with both hands then leaned forward, feeling the metal slide all the way down until it scraped against the back of his skull.

“You deserved more, so much fucking more,” she whispered. Katie raised her head and gazed at the two girls. “We kill them clean and quick. It's what they told us to do.” She snatched the gun from Jack's dead fingers and passed it to Pamela. “You're the only one who's ever fired one of these things.” She got off the dead man's chest. “Fuck waiting for the others to show up.”

5

The seconds crawled by, each moment stretching on and on, while his executioners continued to stare at the spot where Michael shivered. He could not move his body; they had dropped him into the viper nest. All he could do now was to await the inevitable sound of gunfire.

“What did you see?”

The older man, the one whom Michael had passed over money to enter that mausoleum shrugged. Uncertainty etched over his face. The young man, still wearing his leather jacket, still sporting the bruises that Michael had given him earlier snarled.

“You daft old bastard,” he hissed. “I almost killed the fucking carpet.” He spun around. “Come on, you two,” he said, addressing the other youths. “Let’s go check in the rooms upstairs.”

The three men left the part time policeman to scratch his head as they took the stairs two at a time. Michael lifted his head, it now weighed twice as heavy as it ought to, but he was able to move it high enough to watch them disappear into one of the rooms above them. The older man was already making his way towards the reception desk. Michael didn’t bother asking himself why none of them hadn’t been able to see him, was there any point? He knew from most recent experience that asking stupid questions resulted in silence.

Somewhere in this place was his wife and he knew for a fact that until he regained his strength and to find a way to stop his body from feeling like it had been filled with lead shot, he’d be no good to her or anyone. Michael silently moaned in pain as he tried to curl his body into a tight ball. It took a good minute but after much straining, he accomplished it. Michael then rolled towards the reception desk. The older man had disappeared; he must have decided to go check out wherever that other door led to.

Even the slightest of movements sent stabs of pain through his body. This had to be the result of moving from that other place back home, it had to be. After all, the same had happened when he’d first crossed over. So, what was he supposed to do now, just wait for the feeling to pass? Considering Michael had no other option, there was nothing else he could do. He placed his hands on the carpet and slowly dragged his limp body around the desk, gritting his teeth as his muscles complained at every jerk.

As he lay there, hoping he was right about his assumption and impatiently waiting for this fucking fugue to leave him, Michael listened to the noises around him. He heard the occasional laughter, a few disgruntled moans and the persistent ticking from the clock on the wall, opposite those two stag’s heads. There was no evidence of torture, of screaming, of people in pain. If anything, this hotel just sounded like any other hotel he’s been in.

“How long do we have to wait?”

It looked as though the reject biker boys were back.

“Why the fuck are you asking me that?”

Michael peered around the corner of the desk, relief flooding his system when he felt his muscles beginning to behave again. He still moved like a baby on weed but now he was confident this would soon pass.

“Wait, did you see something just then?

Fuck, his time for blending into the background was obviously at an end. The boy must have seen him, or at least evidence that suggested the boys weren’t alone. Michael jumped and banged his head on the bottom of the desk when a single shot rang out. A small crater appeared on the wall opposite him.

“There!” cried the boy, “did you see that? That table moved.”

“Are you fucking mental?” yelled the leader. “We’re not supposed to shoot up the furniture.”

A dark shadow passed over him.

“Remember me, fuck-face? Wanna try what you pulled on me in the bogs again? Fuck me! You really did come armed to the teeth!”

Michael moved his head and arms at the same time, his movements growing more fluid. The kid wasn’t even looking at he raised the gun and waited, knowing the longer he hesitated, the better chance he’d have to get out of here.

“Hey, this cunt’s got a fucking machine gun, I’m having that!”

Michael gently squeezed the trigger, moaning in pain as the recoil slammed into his shoulder. At such close range, the rounds literally turned the boy’s face into raw burger meat. Blood, pieces of splintered skull and lumps of grey matter splattered against the wall. He rolled on the floor and fired again, this time into the desk, hoping some of them would find their targets. He heard one howl as his magazine ran dry, before somebody on the other side returned fire.

He saw two pairs of feet run towards the desk at the same time he’d dropped the now empty gun. Michael cursed his slow body. The cursing grew more intense when a rough hand reached over the surface and found his hair. He yelled out in agony as the man wrenched him onto his feet. The other one had already jumped over and was in the process of trying to pull his remaining side arm out of Michael’s belt.

Cold metal pressed against his temple.

“You utter cunt!” snarled thing. That’s not supposed to happen; you’re not supposed to kill any of us!”

Michael allowed the boy to pull the gun out of the belt before he kicked him hard between the legs, betting the boy wouldn’t react fast enough to pull that trigger. He dropped to the floor and grabbed the assault rifle and swung it backwards. The butt caught the boy’s gun and ripped it out of his hands. Michael snatched up his stolen gun and cracked it over the head of the boy he’d just kicked. He dropped like a stone.

“This isn’t going how you planned it, is it?” He looked down at the sprawled boy, blood from his head wound dribbled down the side of his head. Michael pointed his gun at the inert boy.”

“Oh god, no! Please don’t. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please, don’t do this. Don’t kill him!”

“It’s a clean kill,” he whispered before pulling the trigger. Michael didn’t have to witness the devastation to know another one had just joined his pal in the realm of the dead. He turned his attention to his remaining so called bad boy. Judging from the foul stench coming from thing’s pants, he’d just shit himself. He nodded towards the stairs. “You had better go.”

“What, you’re letting me go?”

Michael shook his head.“Of course I am. I think you’ve learned your lesson,” he said, smiling.

“Oh God, thank you, I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you earlier. I tell you, from now on I…”

He pressed the muzzle under the man’s chin and emptied the magazine. “I’m sorry about lying to you, just then. I couldn’t do you earlier. Your stress levels were way too high.”

Through the hot stench of cordite that competed with so much human fluid, Michael detected something very familiar. Oh fuck, no please. Don’t do this to me. He spun around, trying to locate the source of the new smell, the smell of his wife’s perfume.

“Jodie!” he yelled, “Where are you?” Michael ran over to the open doorway, his rage boiling over. Whatever fugue that had turned his muscles into sludge was already forgotten. Even if the entropy was still in place, it wouldn’t have dared to block his fucking path.

“Up here, sweetie!” yelled a male voice.

Michael spun around and saw the main torturer standing at the top of the stairs. Trevor's wife, Fern shielded the fat fucker. He’d looped a steel cord around the woman’s neck. “If you dare hurt her, I’ll skin you alive.”

The man chuckled. “Oh yeah, that’s a good one. Have you any idea how difficult that particular task is? The skinning part isn’t that difficult, as long as your blade is sharp enough and you have a steady hand. The trick is to do it quick enough before they pass out and die from blood loss” He growled when Michael ran towards the foot of the steps. “Yeah, because that’s a good idea!” he shouted.

Michael skidded to a stop when the torturer dug his nails in Fern's shoulder and pushed her to the edge of the top step. His other hand tightened on the rope.

“Guess what happens if you come any closer, Mr Dogshit! Put your guns on the floor right fucking now.”

Michael couldn’t do as the insane freak demanded. If he did that, he would have signed their death warrants. They’d both be shackled to the walls in less than an hour. He looked into the woman's terrified eyes, silently hoping she’d forgive him in the next life. Michael couldn’t allow that monster to hurt her, no matter the cost. “A clean kill,” he sobbed, raising his gun.

“So, you think it's clever to hit an old man from behind, do you?” whispered a voice in Michael's ear. “Don't feel so fucking clever now.”

Michael gritted his teeth as his gun was wrenched out of his hands. He looked up at Fern and mouthed he was sorry. How fucking stupid was he? Michael had seen that old man go through that door. Fuck, the guy must have seen everything, it's not like he'd been that quiet about the killings. “Let me go now, and you won't die later,” he snarled.

The old man let out a loud chuckle. “Oh, that's a good one.” He forced Michael forward, onto the steps. “I'm going to enjoy when the man up there rip out your insides. I might even be able to taste your lovely wife too.”

The old man thrust his tongue into Michael's ear.

“You bring him a little closer,” said the torturer.”I want to see up close what our friends were so scared of.”

The old man jabbed something hard into the base of Michael's spine and pushed him further up the steps. “Come on, you heard the man, move it!”