Past Darkness (20 page)

K
arl slammed the door behind him. Slid the middle bolt into its niche. Tried calming the tiny jumps in his stomach. Took a couple of deep breaths before shouting into the darkness.

‘Just you and me now, Arnold! No kids. No women. No little girls to take your evil perversions out on. Man-to-man, though we both know you were never a man to begin with. Just a gutless animal, a spineless–’

‘You were in such a hurry to get out, Karl, you forgot something!’ The voice called out from above, loud and powerful, but flat, as though incapable of emotion.

An unmerciful clatter of metal landed at Karl’s feet. He glanced down.

Sweet fuck! The shotgun. What a clown you really are. You know it’s still not too late to turn and run. Do something smart
for
a change. Think of those who love you – Katie, Naomi. They don’t want a dead hero. They want you back in their arms.

‘I suppose you’ve taken out the shells, Arnold?’

‘Why don’t you pick it up and see for yourself? I’m not an unsporting person.’

The darkness seemed to become denser the longer Karl stood there, debating with himself. He looked down at the shotgun, as though he could determine whether it was still loaded – any indication, no matter how flawed. It looked loaded. It looked empty.

‘Who’s the coward now, Karl, standing there shitting yourself, instead of grabbing the weapon? All of your brave talk is nothing but vanity and chasing after wind. Even that smelly farmer gave more of a fight, before I blasted his fat belly all over the wall. Took him an hour to die, you know. I had a meal in his kitchen while I watched him squirm and twitch.’

Karl buckled his knees, fell onto his shoulder, scooping up the shotgun, and rolled for shelter beside the staircase’s wooden ribs. He waited for his head to be blown into a million pieces of meat, but nothing came.

‘Well, Karl? Is it loaded or not?’

Karl checked. It was loaded.

‘See? Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t unsporting? You owe me big time, Karl. Oh, and don’t forget, I killed Butler for you. The cheek of him, thinking he was going to take my pleasure away. No one gets to kill you. No one except–’

Kaboom!

Karl fired towards the voice, moving at the same time to the bottom of the staircase, forcing his feet to take the steps two at a time. He flattened his body out on the second floor landing, out of breath, sweating and gagging on air. He was still alive! He wanted to laugh with joy, scream it out at Arnold.

‘That was dirty of you, Karl. Missed by a mile, but still, very dirty. It seems that I won’t be able to take you alive as I had planned, fuck you in the arse again, the way you loved it, all those years ago.’

Don’t let the bastard screw with your mind. Let him talk his way to his own grave.

‘No answer, Karl? You mother loved it, getting in the arse. Oh, she dearly
loved
it. I think that’s why
you
enjoyed it so much, knowing my cock had been up her arse first. Come on now. Tell the truth, shame the devil.’

Arnold was laughing, but it had a dullness to it.

The bastard is hunched down somewhere, hiding. He’s as fucking scared as I am.

Karl crawled along the landing, stopping at the blind spot where the stairs ran into the third floor banisters. The old storage room directly to his left. If he could get in there, it would offer a slight –
very
slight – advantage.

He took the chance, almost breaking his neck in the process. The shotgun hit the side of the door and went spinning out of his hands, down into the abyss.

‘Fuck!’

For a few seconds, Karl sat immobile, trying to dream up some new strategy. The old wardrobe mirror, in the far corner of the room, reflected his desperation right back at him through the shadows. He hardly recognised himself. He looked terrified. Lost.

‘I hate guns. Too loud. Too vulgar,’ said Arnold, standing at the door, holding the shotgun and a serrated hunting knife. He threw the shotgun at Karl’s feet. ‘Take it. You have one shell left, remember?’

Karl looked at the shotgun. Then at the monster standing before him. Arnold’s face was strapped up with silver duct tape, the spaces in between covered in dried blood, his features barely recognisable as human.

‘Well? What are you waiting for, Karl? Take it. You get one more chance. Make sure your aim is true and–’

Karl rugby-tackled Arnold. They both went flailing backwards, towards the banisters, crashing through them as though they were mere matchsticks. They went hurtling downwards, each grabbing the other in desperation, as if somehow that would save either of them.

In slow motion, Karl watched his life flash in front of him, as he gripped Arnold’s throat.

The sudden impact bounced both men off the mattresses, sending each in a different direction.

‘
Argggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh
!
’ screamed Karl,
both legs snapping instantly upon impact. ‘
Fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!
’

Arnold fared much better, his upper body cascading off the bottom of the stairs, dulling impact. However, he then landed awkwardly, snapping his left wrist and breaking three fingers. He moaned but, unlike Karl, he did not scream.

Karl felt consciousness leaving him. The blackest ink seemed to be seeping into every part of him. Strangely, he could no longer feel pain, as if he had destroyed that particular barrier and it could no long hold any power over him.

Arnold dragged himself over to Karl, knife in hand. Like Karl, he could barely breath and was taking great gulps of dusty air into his lungs, making him cough and splutter. He placed the knife under Karl’s throat.

Arnold seemed to be saying things, but Karl only saw a mouth moving in soundless syllables. His eyelids were becoming heavier and heavier, his will to live and fight quickly ebbing away.

Behind Arnold, someone appeared. A girl? A woman? She was holding a cutthroat razor. She was wearing
that
sweater.

‘Mum…?’

She was smiling down at Karl, but not in a nice way. The last thing Karl remembered was warm blood. So much of it. Stinging his eyes. Filling his mouth. He was swallowing it, choking on it…

Hidden in the midst of brambly bushes across from the house, Dorothy watched as a stream of police cars snaked up the hilly path. Some of the cars were having difficulty navigating the mucky road.

‘Look, King. We’re safe now. Here come the police.’

King wagged its tail, but kept its eyes trained on the front door.

‘I know, King. I wish Karl would hurry up too. I wonder what’s keeping him?’

Just then, the door opened. A figure stepped out. Covered in blood.

‘Tara!’ Dorothy ran towards her. Wrapped her arms around her waist. ‘You didn’t leave me after all!’

Tara hugged her tightly. ‘I told you I would never leave you, didn’t I?’

‘Yes…’

‘Now you’ve got to listen to me, for one last time.’

‘Okay.’

‘Soon, you’ll be home. Home with people that love you.’

‘I know, but aren’t you coming with me? They’ll love you, as well as me.’

‘I can’t go with you, Dorothy. I’ve…I have people who love me too. I can’t let them down.’

‘You’re my best friend. You can’t leave me.’

‘Listen, I don’t have much time. Do you really love me, Dorothy? I mean,
really
love me?’

‘Yes! You know I do, Tara.’

‘They’re going to ask you questions about me.’

‘Who, Tara? Who’s going to ask me questions?’

‘Everyone. The police, newspapers, your family. You mustn’t tell them anything. Do you understand? I would be in trouble if you do.’

‘Trouble? What kind of trouble?’

‘Big, big trouble. They’d put me back in Blackmore for ever and ever. They’d beat me every night. Do bad things to me. Is that what you want?’

‘No! I won’t let them take you away. I won’t!’

‘Then you mustn’t tell them anything.’

‘I…I won’t, Tara. I won’t.’

‘Promise?’

‘I promise.’

Tara gave Dorothy a long hug, and then kissed her cheek.

‘I’ll always be watching over you, Dorothy. Never forget that.’

Dorothy watched Tara disappearing into the forest, the rain following behind her like a giant cloak of darkness. She watched until there was nothing more to watch, and then she began sobbing.

T
wo days went by before Karl was able to receive visitors at the hospital. Both broken legs were in stirrups, with plaster of Paris encasing his entire lower half. His ribs hurt like hell, as did parts of his spine. His face looked a mess, but in a ruggedly handsome, tough-guy sort of way. Ironically, it was his birthday. He was feeling sorry for himself, but did his best not to show it.

First in the long line of visitors were his beloved daughter Katie, and not so beloved ex-wife Lynne. He was quite surprised to see Lynne, though he knew it was probably through Katie’s pressure rather than any sense of sentimentality from Lynne.

‘Happy birthday, Dad!’ Katie hugged and kissed him, before setting a birthday card on the table, alongside a large bottle of Lucozade.

‘You’ve not come bearing gifts of chocolates, fruit or flowers?’ he asked Lynne, as she sat down behind Katie, well away from the bed.

‘If I remember correctly, you’re allergic to flowers and chocolate. And I’m not going to make these young nurses’ lives more miserable by bringing fruit. Can you imagine the state of your bedpan?’

‘Yes, you’re right. How inconsiderate of me to want to take a shit.’

‘Mum? Dad? Can we stop the squabbling for a few minutes?’ said Katie, getting no response from either parent.

Katie could do nothing but cry once she took in the extent of Karl’s injuries, no matter how many times Karl lied that the broken bones and messed-up face were all superficial.

He was more than a little suspicious about Lynne’s attitude, though. At times, she showed some sympathy for his injuries; but there were a few times he thought he could detect a hint of gloating in her voice. Perhaps a broken neck would have been more up her street? Despite himself, he had to smile when she said, ‘It could have been worse; could have been a broken dick.’ He wanted to, but didn’t, respond that she would probably know more about broken dicks than he.

Katie signed the plaster cast, but Lynne ignored it, stating she ‘didn’t do that sort of thing’.

No sooner had Katie and Lynne left, than in walked Detective Chambers, also bearing no gifts of comfort.

‘Not even a grape? Are all cops such tight-arse cheap bastards? How the hell can you come to hospital and not bring something with you?’

Chambers looked embarrassed. ‘I…I just never thought.’

‘That’s the problem with people nowadays. Anyway, hurry the hell up with whatever questions you have. I’ve real people coming to see me in fifteen minutes.’

‘I’ll be as quick as I can. May I sit down?’

‘Just don’t get too comfortable. I think I may have to use the bedpan very shortly.’

‘Thank you.’ Chambers pulled a chair close to the bed. Sat down. ‘How are you doing?’

‘Are you for real? I’ve a bedpan under my arse and I’m pissing down a straw. Want to ask any more stupid questions?’

‘Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.’

‘I hope you understand, I don’t have to give you an interview. I’m only doing it out of the kindness of my heart and civil duty.’

‘I fully understand that, and appreciate it, especially after what you went through,’ said Chambers, pulling out a notepad, and flicking through a few pages. ‘Any idea what Butler was doing at the house?’

‘Didn’t you ask him?’

‘Can we conduct this without levity, please? People died back there, regardless of what they may or may not have done.’

‘Really? Did you see what that bastard Arnold did to that little girl, Dorothy Reilly? No may-or-may-not bullshit. So you don’t get to tell me not to laugh at him. Fuck him.
Rot in hell. Now, hurry up with your next bloody question, before I have you kicked out on your arse.’

Flustered, Chambers flicked a page, quickly studied his notes. ‘This mysterious figure you were talking incoherently about, in the ambulance? According to you, she came out of nowhere, and she saved your life by cutting Arnold’s throat?’

‘I was in a state of shock, so I really can’t remember much about what I supposedly said in the ambulance. Can’t even remember the ambulance, to be frank.
Okay?
’

‘Of course. I fully understand that. I’m just trying to clear up as much of this as I can, for the record.’

‘For the record? If I tell you anything, it’s
off
the record. Understood?’

Chambers was hesitant, unsure. Finally he said, ‘Okay, provided it doesn’t incriminate me down the line. And don’t ask me to withhold evidence.’

‘It was my mother.’

‘Your mother…?’

‘The mysterious figure. I know it sound nuts, but it’s the truth. Don’t ask me how, but it was. Thank God she was there; otherwise I wouldn’t be here, and neither would you.’

Chambers studied Karl, a man with concussion, a man traumatised beyond understanding, doped to the eyeballs on morphine and God-alone-knew-what-else he himself might have added to the mix. A man who lived perpetually outside
the sphere of normal people’s understanding and thinking about this world.

‘I’ll leave you now.’ Chambers stood. ‘I think I have enough for my boss.’

‘Wilson? The bastard’s back from Edinburgh?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘What did he say when he learned of my misfortune? Bet he couldn’t stop laughing?’

‘I wasn’t the one who informed him, so I’m not privy to what he actually said. However, I have heard from a reliable source that he seemed…uplifted…’

‘Uplifted? Yes, that would be him all right, the bastard. You just watch your back, with him. He’s a natural liar, whose tongue could fry an egg. Tell him if he wishes to come visit, I’ve a bedpan needs emptying.’

Chambers low-laughed. ‘I doubt I’ll pass that particular request on to him.’

‘Before you go – what about Dorothy? Any news of her?’

‘She’s in a children’s ward in this hospital. They’re keeping her there for observation. They haven’t told her yet about her parents and younger sister.’

Karl shook his head, a huge weight of sadness in his voice. ‘Puts everything into perspective, doesn’t it? I’m lying here, moaning about not being able to take a leak, and that child has yet to be told of the nightmare awaiting her. Doesn’t seem right, does it?’

‘No. It doesn’t.’ Chambers turned to leave, but stopped. Held out his hand. ‘I…we all appreciate what you did, rescuing Dorothy. It was very courageous.’

‘Well, you could have shown your bloody appreciation a little more clearly by bringing something with you, something in liquid form.’

‘You’re right. I should have. Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll pick something up and leave it at reception for you, later. How’s that sound?’

Karl finally shook the hand. ‘Make it a large bottle of Hennessy, but don’t leave it at reception, in case it grows legs and disappears. Leave it at my office. No, forget that. Naomi’s on her own. Leave it till next week, when I can be there to keep a close eye on you. Good day, Detective Chambers.’

Finally, in walked Naomi, looking as if she hadn’t slept in a very long time. She burst into tears the moment she set eyes on Karl, on the ruined state of his body. Ran to him. Hugged him tightly, before kissing his wounded face over and over again.

‘Oh, my poor Karl! What have they done to you?’ She held him for so long, he eventually had to lever himself out of her grip.

‘I should break my legs more often if this is the outcome.’

She giggled nervously. Brushed away the tears. Laughed some more. Tears returned.

‘I don’t want to say happy birthday, under the circumstances,
but happy birthday, big fella.’ She handed him a small, oblong box.

‘For me?’ Karl said, playing coy while opening the box.

‘I know you don’t believe in all that religious stuff, but it would make me feel a lot happier to know you have it.’

‘Your Saint Christopher medal? But this belonged to your grandmother. I know how much this means to you, Naomi. I can’t take it.’

‘You can and you will. Anyway, it’ll comfort me to know you’re wearing it. It’ll help keep you safe.’

‘Bit bloody late!’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Didn’t I read somewhere that big Chris was kicked out of the gang, up in Heaven?’

‘Will you do this for me, and stop arguing? And don’t worry, I’ve a couple of other presents for you for when I get you home.’

‘Do you never stop thinking of sex? To be honest, my cock’s a lot stiffer with all this plaster on it. Want to see?’

‘At the minute, I’m more interested in other parts of your body. How are your legs?’

‘Still attached to my arse, last time I scratched it.’

She laughed, and it was the best medicine Karl had had in two days. Then her laughter turned to tears.

‘If anything had happened to you, Karl, I…I don’t know what I would’ve–’

‘
Shhhhhhhhhh
.’ Karl bridged a finger on her lips. ‘Let’s not talk about it now, love. I’m safe and sound, it’s okay, I’m right here.’

Naomi wiped away snot and tears. ‘Look at me! I must look such a mess.’

Karl pulled her over to him. ‘The kind of mess I love.’

He kissed her, long and lovingly. Tasted the salt from her tears. Felt tears welling in his own eyes. Placed his head on her shoulder, and hugged her tightly.

‘I’d die without you, Naomi. You know that, don’t you? I could never survive.’

She said nothing, but he felt her head nodding on his shoulder; felt her body tremble as more tears came.

‘I hope I’m not interrupting something here?’ Lipstick, smiling, stepped into the room. ‘I rapped on the door, but no answer.’

Naomi pushed away from Karl, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

‘This is the best birthday I could have wished for. All my favourite women in the same room, all within an hour of each other – well,
almost
all my favourite women. Lynne was here too.’

Lipstick hugged Naomi, then walked over to the bed and hugged and kissed Karl. She handed him an expensive-looking watch box.

‘Happy birthday, Karl.’

‘Lipstick…you shouldn’t have,’ said Karl, hesitantly taking the box. He knew immediately it was going to be trouble. Sixty thousand quid’s worth of trouble. The fact it was a dead man’s watch made him uncomfortable. Still, Patek Philippe was not to be sniffed at, truth be told.

He slowly opened the box. The watch stared out at him. He removed it from its enclosure.

‘A Timex…? How timely,’ said Karl, not knowing if he should be glad or sad.

Lipstick’s face lit up. ‘You like it, Karl? Really?’

‘What’s…what’s not to like about a Timex…?’ Karl said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into his disappointed voice.

‘Take a look at the watch’s motto, engraved on the back. That’s why I bought it. It reminded me so much of you.’

Karl slowly turned the watch over. Read the motto to himself. A large smile spread across his face.

‘What’s the smile for, Karl?’ said Naomi. ‘What does it say?’

‘It says,
“Timex, it takes a licking but keeps on ticking”.’