Depravity (22 page)

“Nobody calls me a coward.”

“Then stop whining and follow me, Michael.” The ghost picked up his own weapon and opened the door. “I tell you, this cuddly toy isn't going to be taken without a fight.”

What other choice did he have but to follow him  out of the room? He stood there, his hand over his eyes, looking out at this strange and yet familiar landscape. “This wasn't at all what Michael had expected.”

“Come on, one more step.”

He walked forward a couple of paces before he stopped and turned around, not surprised to see any door. “I wasn't expecting this”

“What do you see?”

“We are stood on a cobbled road. There's mills at either side. Huge Victorian stone mills. An unbroken line of them. They stretch from horizon to horizon. Do we have to walk down this road? I mean, is there something we ought to be looking for, another door or something?

“Weird. There's hard-packed dirt under my feet. We're in some giant park. With endless rows of kid’s playground equipment at either side.”

“This isn't what I expected,” Michael repeated.

“You keep saying that. Would pits of bubbling lava be more to your expectation? Let's add in a swarm of demonic nightmares swooping out of a blood-red sky as well. You know, just to complete the picture.”

“Very poetic,” he muttered. “Come on, though. This is supposed to be what happens when you die? Fighting against your demonic nightmares does sound more plausible than walking down a cobbled road forever.”

“That's what you'd so love to do though. Dodging and diving away from their claws, while blasting them into slimy wet pieces. A cold calculating machine, devoid of any emotion, because that would just get in the way. Am I right?”

Michael slowed down. He stopped and turned. “That's the second time that you've hinted at something you know about me. What exactly are you trying to tell me here?”

The ghost shook his head. “There are rules to follow in here, Michael. I'm restricted to what I am allowed to say.”

“What sort of bullshit are you trying to sell here?”

“For fuck's sake,” he cried. “Look, man. This realm is just a waypoint, a stopping post. We're all visitors. How long you have to stay here depends on the weight of your soul.”

“I don't understand.”

“Take your lovely wife. If she had died yesterday, before arriving at that hotel, then she, like everybody else, would arrive here, in this realm. Now, her stay would last longer than most because of the trauma she endured before you met her. Thing is, if, say, she died at the hands of her father, before you met her, before you were able to give her what she'd missed out on. Love, happiness, to show the woman that life doesn't have to be a constant battle, that poor woman would have probably had to stay here for a long time.”

“Do you understand now?”

“I think so,” he replied.

“Yeah well, because of your actions, Michael, your soul is now heavier than hers ever was.”

Michael thought he saw a break in the landscape, a fleeting shadow, unless it was only a trick of the light. “So this is like purgatory? Folk who were good go to heaven and the shit-bags meet the guy in red?”

“After everything that you've gone through recently, that's your best reply?”

Michael heard every word spoken. All of the meta-physical bollocks that spewed from the ghost's mouth made about as much sense as the rest of the stuff his new companion's conversation so he tuned him out. It wasn't a purely selfish gesture, he hadn't realised he'd done it. His mental facilities were needed elsewhere. The surrounding buildings were not as empty as Michael first assumed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw fleeting shadows where there shouldn't be.

Eyes watched him and the ghost walk along this road. His danger mechanism was in meltdown. His fingers tightened on the gun grip. Those watching him weren't benign, that much Michael was sure about.

“This realm tries to heal the souls that end up here. No, that's wrong. I mean this realm provides a natural environment that allows damaged soul to repair in their own time, before they move on. Even now, some of that stain inflicted upon our souls during our terrestrial existence is dissipating.

Michael began to walk towards the building on the right, his gaze fixed on two of the windows. There were people in that mill, he was sure of it. In his peripheral vision, his companion had not left his side nor had he stopped talking. What was wrong with the man? The pair of them faced imminent danger and he was yapping on like some old washer woman.

“That's the issue, this place is having with you, Michael. Believe me, the realm wants those creatures gone too. It detests how those fuckers can dip into this domain whenever they desire and scoop out any of those poor bastards who died in that hotel. It sees you as some kind of saviour, a way to seal up the realm to stop any more intrusions. The last thing it wants is for the blemishes on your soul to disappear. It wants you to be...”

“Enough!” he interrupted. “I get it, okay, will you just please hush a moment?” Michael managed to shut his mouth before two large figures ran out from an open door. He jumped back and lifted his gun, squeezing the trigger tight before the first figure hit him.

A strangely familiar voice cackled out a harsh laugh when the weapon failed to fire.

“Shit like that don't work in here, fuck-face!”

The other man had gone behind Michael, he saw a flash of silver before experiencing a dull ache below the ribs. Michael smashed the gun butt into the man in front of him, grinning savagely when his attacker stumbled back and smashed his head into the stones.

This sudden movement opened up the wound caused by whatever the other man had stuck into him, but right now, that violent pain didn't even register.

Michael stepped to the side before swinging the gun back. Its barrel smacking into the other man's throat. He followed that through by kicking the older man hard between the legs with his good leg. When his attacker fell to the floor, Michel kicked him again in the same place.

“Was that your best try, you vile old bastard?” he snarled. Michael limped forwards and placed his feet on either side of the groaning man's head and glared at the face of Jodie's dead father. “You're already dead,” he spat, slamming the gun into the man's face. The impact destroyed his nose. Thick blood sprayed out over the man's cheeks and gushed into the man's mouth. The old man begged Michael to stop. He placed the butt over the man's open mouth, gripped the barrel hard then pushed down, using all his weight to force the weapon down.

He kept his eyes focussed on the monster who had spent so many years abusing his wife, waiting and praying that this time the lights in this fucker's eyes wouldn't blink off. There was so much more pain he need to inflict on this cunt. The bottom of his gun slid to the side, making Michael lose his balance. He fell to the left, managing to thrust his hand out to stop himself from hitting the cobbles.

Michael righted himself, staring in fascination at the mess he'd made to the old man's face. His lower jaw hanging down with only a sliver of wet meat holding it on. Michael used the barrel to get him to his feet then pulled the weapon out of the man's mouth. How could this creature still be moving? His elbow brushed over the object that this fucker had slid into him. Michael pulled it out, not sure how he could have forgotten about it or why he felt no pain. Michael ran his fingers down the side of his body, not able to find any wound.

It didn't shock him to discover that the old man's jaw was now back in its correct place either. He sat down hard on the man's chest and leaned forward, slapping the man's face. “What a strange place this is. I maim you and moments later you're healed. Does this mean that I can kill you over and over? I won't lie, it is such an attractive notion and yet.” he paused. “And yet the desire has left me now.” he sighed. “All that built up rage just vanished into thin air. Michael wiped both sides of the blade on his top then wrapped his fingers over the healing jaw and pushed it down again. The noise that erupted from the man below him sounded like a vacuum cleaner breaking down. Michael kept his grip on the jaw then slammed the knife into his eye.

He stood up and looked across at Jodie's older brother. He still hadn't moved from his position. His eyes followed Michael as he approached the prone boy. That gaze switching from Michael to the bloodied gun he gripped.

“Leave him be,” ordered the ghost.

“Shut your fucking hole. Where were you when I needed you?”

The ghost got up from the curb where he'd been sitting and walked between him and the boy. “I said leave him, Michael.”

“And I told you to shut your hole, now get out of my way.”

The ghost sighed loudly. Then stepped back. “I couldn't help you because it wasn't in the rules. Just like that creature wasn't allowed to stop you from mutilating his father.”

Jodie's brother had gone. He spun around to find no trace of the other one either. “Okay, just what the fuck is going on?”

“You should have listened more closely,” he replied. The ghost walked back over to the curb and sat back down. “Michael, your way out is through that door, the one where those two popped out of. It'll take you straight to the hotel.”

Michael stood still. He switched his gaze from the ghost, to the door and back again. A light blue wall showed through that open door. Michael squinted his eyes. Was that an animal's head attached to that wall? It was the hotel, he was sure of it and it would only take him five steps to pass through that door. He stroked the gun's stock. Would this work in there?

His beautiful wife was inside that charnel house, so why the fuck wasn't he already heading towards that door, why was he hesitating? That ghost over there, the one who now looked as though he was waiting for a fucking bus told him that time ran differently here. Then again, he had said a lot of things.

“Are you not coming?”

The ghost shook his head. “I can't I'm not allowed. It isn't.”

“I know, I know. It isn't in the rules. So, tell me, why are you even here? I mean, it's not like you've been able to help me when those two guys attacked me.”

“Don't you think I wanted to?” he cried. “Have you not listened to anything I told you? For crying out loud, work it out. It's not that fucking complicated.”

“Because you're healing and any more violence would fuck that up, it would be like two guys with broken arms trying arm wrestle.”

“Basically. Do you think those two souls wanted to attack you? They didn't have any other choice. This realm brought them to you, Michael.”

“Why?”

“Jodie Sandhurst, previously called Jodie Hamilton wasn't the only child in that family who'd been abused. Her older brother had received the same treatment as well. Their father only stopped when Jodie had reached an age where she had become more appealing to the old man.”

Michael grew pale. “Shut up.”

“Malcolm Hamilton was as much a victim as his sister, yet this didn't stop you from murdering the man. Albert Hamilton did inflict those vile crimes upon his flesh and blood, there's no denying that, Michael. He was a victim too. When Albert was fourteen, a car stopped just in front of him. The window wound down and a smart looking man, wearing a suit asked Albert for directions to the local cinema. When Albert stopped, the rear door opened and two more men got out. They looked around before bundling the boy into the back of the car.  They took this terrified boy into a deserted warehouse.”

“Please,” Michael said. “I don't want to hear anymore.”

“There were four men in that car. Three of them took turns in raping Albert. The forth one leaned against a wall and smoked. Every so often, he'd take a picture, asking the boy to look like he was enjoying himself.” The ghost stood up and gently lifted Michael's head. “After a couple of hours, they left him. Albert spent the night in that warehouse, curled up under a table, clutching what remained of his torn clothes.”

“Fuck you,” he said, “There's nothing I can do about the man's past, is there? And nothing changes what that fucker did to my Jodie. I'll tell you this for free too. If that bastard was stood in front of me right now, I'd do it again. I'd kill him where he stood.”

“Make it a clean death, make it clean and quick.”

“What?”

The ghost shook him hard. “Listen to me!” he yelled. “You have got to make their deaths quick, please don't let any of them suffer.” He pointed to the open door. “You're going to go in there and slaughter anyone who gets in your way.” Tears ran down his cheeks. “End this, Michael. End the suffering.”

He shook the man off and pushed him away before running over to that door, Michael so needed to get away from him.

“Remember the park. Please, you have to remember the...”

Michael passed over the threshold. A cacophony of indistinct voices blasted at him. He fell to the floor and slammed his hands over his ears, gulping back a shocked scream when his actions only made the voices louder. He couldn't see anything but a thick haze of yellow. The voices were still there but now, he could pick out maybe two of three different people. The words themselves were just meaningless garbage.

He managed to get onto his knees. Michael leaned back, feeling something hard against his back. Michael assumed it was the wall. His vision had now begun to clear and three blurred forms coalesced into three men. Each one holding a gun. All three of them staring at him.