Rottenhouse (31 page)

Bob simply nodded and although Simon
could only see the back of his head he could tell by the way in
which he slouched, how his head was tilted slightly forward and his
hands were loose by his side that Bob knew what Simon was getting
at. Knew he was having dreams and seeing things and was starting to
understand this place and unearth its secrets. He knew that Simon
was now at a cross roads in his life. A cross roads that either
kept him on this path, toward a future that consisted of Bob and
Lucy and a happy family or one that was without Bob, possibly then
without Lucy, and one that was empty and full of long nights
holding a bottle of bourbon in one hand and soggy semen stained
tissue in the other.

Simon took back the
step he had made and unknowingly crushed a worm under his boot. If
he believed in the Butterfly Effect then he could have linked that
crushed worm to what followed in the next 24 hours. But he didn’t
believe in the Butterfly Effect. He only believed in three things
really and the last two were new ones. The first thing he believed
in was that he loved Lucy and would do anything for her -
anything
. The second was
that he wanted, with all his heart, for Lucy and her father to be a
family again and to mend whatever was broken between them. The
third, and this was the new one, was that this place was affecting
him. Turning him somehow. He didn’t not like it, nor did he welcome
it with open arms. He went with the flow, remember? Always went
with the flow. And right now that flow was taking him down an
uncharted river where monsters sometimes lived beneath the waves.
He found that he could put up with the beatings and the killings
and the missing girl that he didn’t know was missing but had an
inkling that she was tied up somewhere bleeding from places he
didn’t want to think about. The nightmares weren’t all that bad and
they would go once he was away from this place. Even Bob, good old
Bob Rowling was becoming tolerable, a friend even for what it’s
worth. A strange friend. One you both wanted to be around and then
didn’t want to be around at the same time. Bob was a good man.
Blinkered, yes, but men with high morals who have lived a very
straight laced and hard life generally were blinkered. Especially
if those beliefs were never questioned or corrected by those around
you and with the hierarchy of this place such as it was it seemed
to Simon as though that never happened. You were punished for it if
you question what was told to you so best keep your mouth
shut.

Over the last couple of days Simon
could have turned around and gone home. He remembered he had
thought just that last night, but here he was; still here and he
would stay here until Lucy and her father had mended their
relationship and then they would go home, to their little piece of
heaven and plan out their wedding and send out invitations, one of
which would be sent to Mr Bob Rowling and he would attend the
wedding, escorting his daughter down the aisle proud to be her
father and proud of the man she had chosen to be her husband, and
then they would go on their honeymoon, to some hot country and live
the rest of their lives together.

Simon nodded in agreement with himself.
Watched as old man Rowling cast off into the crystal clear waters
and stood there like an ancient gunslinger waiting for the next
gunfight. Simons head itched, so he scratched at it, his hands
feeling wet and greasy. Grabbing his rod which was baited and ready
to go, he waded out into the lake joining Mr Rowling and this he
believed was his way of saying that he was here, here to stay, no
matter what, and that he would be a friend and wouldn’t fuss and
moan about what goes on here. He would go with the flow because
that was the sort of man he was.

The sun moved across the endless blue
sky but was not obscured by anymore clouds. There were no more
gunshots, no more screams or barks or squeals from pigs or dogs or
people. Even the trees were silent, holding their breath just so
that the two men could fish in serenity. Only birdsong and crickets
playing their mad banjos floated on the soft warm breeze. And so
they fished until the bait was gone and their catch net was
full.

13

As the sun started to drift behind the
valley wall the two men packed up their fishing gear and headed
along the path. Simon carried the two rods and the two fishing
boxes whilst Bob took care of the catch net and the fish that it
held. The path wasn’t as pretty as it had been now that the sun was
on its way down. Its colour, which had been lush and vibrant, was
washing away to the colour of whale bone. The big trees, which on
the way in had been welcoming, now loomed over Simon and Bob as
they trundled along. Simon felt the urge to walk with his head
hunched over, his eyes rolled to the top of their sockets scanning
the path ahead in a watery haze.

With their backs to the low sun their
shadows stretched out in front of them like mad spirits. It didn’t
take long for them to pass the wooden signpost; Simon made a great
effort to not look down there for fear of what he might see. Near
the car park Simon’s shoulders, back, legs and arms throbbed with a
burning pain. He’d never been to the gym but believed what he was
feeling now must what it be like to feel after a good session on
the free weights.

He was just about to try and read what
time it is on his wrist watch when a strange smell drifted past
him, a mixture of sweat, oil and wet dog. He sniffed it a couple of
times and out front he could see Bob doing the same; looking left
and right as he did.

‘
Odd stink,’ Simon
said, the words catching in his throat as the smell intensified,
‘What the hell is it.’

‘
Nowt good.’ Bob
said.

And he was right.

They left the forest and walked into
the darkening car park, the smell growing and growing until it was
all Simon could smell. It was sticking to him like a wet mist.

Stood by the car were three men. They
all turned as one when the sound of the pebbles crunching under
Simon and Bob’s footfalls reached their ears.

They were the same men from Simons
dream and they towered over the car.

14

They wore the same dungarees and the
same shirts and the same caps and had same big hands and the same
big feet covered in even bigger boots. Simon could see their faces
and when he did he kind of wished that they were still covered in
the black smoke that had smothered them in his dream, for not only
were they brothers, identical brothers, they each looked as mean as
a hungry dog and scarred much like they had been fighting like one
too.

Bob stopped and as Simon reached his
side so he put his hand on Simon shoulder; the water in the catch
net leaked over the edge and ran down Bob’s waders.

‘
Stay here, son. Put
stuff on floor and mind yer manners. Don’t say a word unless I say
it’s okay. Okay?’

But before Simon could answer, Bob had
walked off leaving the catch net wobbling precariously on the
ground. He did as he was told, placing the rods and the fishing
boxes onto the ground. He even took a few steps back and found
himself under the shadow of the trees. And there he stood, hands by
his side, straight back but with eyes that darted from left to
right and up and down trying to gather in as much light as
possible.

The three big brothers shared a glance
and then moved so that they were stood in front of the car,
blocking the passenger side. Simon couldn’t be sure but the brother
in the middle, the one who wore the blue shirt and wore a Gulf Oil
baseball cap looked as if he were in charge. Simon didn’t know how
he knew this, maybe it was how he stood straighter than the other
two or that he was ever so slightly taller, wider, stronger, like
he had had the lion’s share of the meat that had been on offer.

The car park was bathed in orange fire
and deep black shadows were scratched upon its surface from the
great trees that surrounded it. Simon was stood under the trees at
the far edge waiting for Bob to say something to the three men that
were seemingly holding his car ransom. But he didn’t. Not until he
was right next to them did he begin to talk but at this distance
Simon couldn’t hear what they were saying. Bob looked like a child
next to them, but he didn’t seem to notice how small he was, how
easily those three men could crush him like a bug. Instead he stood
there no differently to how he stood next to Simon, he wasn’t
intimidated by them, even when all their eyes were upon him he
remained still.

Twice the big men looked at Simon and
his heart thrashed wildly. The third time it was just the bigger
brother that looked his way. There was nothing in the stare, Simon
couldn’t really see the big brothers eyes, but knew that behind
that blank stare was a mad man, a killer, a hunter, a destroyer of
dreams and a bringer of misery. When he looked back to Bob, Simon
was sure that there was a wry grin on his big face.

A few more words were uttered between
Bob and the big brother and then the big brother looked at brother
1 and brother 2, they seemed to share another glance, perhaps some
kind of telepathy that twins tell tales of, and then they headed
off away from the car and into the forest.

Bob wiped his forehead, seemed to
gather himself and then pulled a set of keys from out of his
pocket. Without looking back he waved at Simon to come like a good
dog. Simon picked up the catch net first, the 7 fish they had
caught lifeless in the water.

‘
Everything okay?’
Simon asked when he reached the back of the car and placed the fish
into the cool box that Bob had gotten ready.

Bob looked over the car and toward
where the three brothers had exited the car park.

‘
Aye lad,’ he said
with a sigh, ‘Nowt to really worry about.’

‘
Then what was it
about? They were the O’Hagan’s, right?’

‘
Yup. Go fetch
restagear whilst I start up car wouldya.’

Simon went back, gathered the rods and
the tackle boxes, placed them into the boot of the car. He then
quickly took off his waders, glancing at the trees in the distance
just in case he was being spied upon, put them in the boot next to
Bobs and closed the boot lid taking care not to slam it. Simon
wafted away the oily petrol fumes that drifted from the exhaust
like storm clouds and got into the back seat grateful to be out of
the hot waders and for his balls to be free.

There was a tension in the car as they
journeyed back to Bob’s house. The air felt hot with it. They
didn’t talk and from the back seat Simon couldn’t make out what was
going on with Bob. Occasionally the old man would look in his rear
view mirror but his eyes gave nothing away.

Unable to let it go and just before
reaching the turning that led to the house, Simon asked, ‘So, you
going to tell me what that was about or are you just going to leave
me guessing?’

Not taking his eyes off the road Bob
said, ‘Just curious is all, Simon. Nowt to worry about. They tend
to think that the lake is theirs, seeing as it is so close to their
house and all. But they know I have the ear of the Chairman and so
they don’t tend to ask for a fee for using it.’

‘
A fee?’

‘
Aye, Simon, a
fee.’

‘
What do you mean?’
But Simon knew the answer before he even asked.

Bob shook his head, ‘For an edu-cay-ted
feller, you don’t half ask some stupid questions, Simon. You know,
a fee, a payment for using the lake. For catching what they think
is their fish. Now most won’t argue with em, you saw the size of
those big bastards. Christ, they could wrench the legs off a bull
without breaking sweat. Especially Lawrence. He was the biggest one
and the one that does the talking. But I don’t take none
atheirshite. As said, I got the ear of the Chairman, and they know
that so they leave me be. Anyone else and it’s either money, fish
or both.’

Bob drove the car into the driveway and
he eased it to a stop right next to Simon’s electric blue wonder
and in the exact same spot it was in when they had left.

‘
And I suppose they
don’t like southerners as well?’ Simon said as he got out of the
car and closed the door.

Bob did likewise and then leaned on the
roof of his car. ‘Guess again.’

Simon shrugged.

‘
Well they don’t give
two shits if yer southern, western, eastern or bloody Chinese. All
they care about it that you is fresh meat, if yaknow what I
mean?’

‘
No I
don’t…’

And then he did. Simon couldn’t help
but chuckle. ‘Hang on, you telling me that they would have wanted
me to…err… how can I put this? Oh yeah, you telling me that they
wanted me to be their little piggy, is that what you are
saying?’

Bob winked and moved to the back of the
car and opened the boot. Simon was left standing by the passenger
window. Was he shocked? Not really. Why would he be? It was the
preverbal cherry on top of the cake if you looked at it that
way.

Bob unpacked the fishing stuff and
closed the boot. Simon turned to Bob and he realised something
then. It was only a small something, but it was a thing that made
their bond of friendship that little bit stronger.

‘
Did you just save me
from a potential arse raping, Bob? If so, how can I ever repay
you?’

Bob consoled Simon by patting him on
the shoulder a few times. ‘Repay me?’ he said taking hold of the
cool box that stored their catch, ‘Well, you can carry that stuff
back to the garage and put it all back fer starters. Then you can
clean the waders. And if you still feel like yawant to repay me
further from saving yafrom a good seeing too, you can make sure you
mention not a word of it to Barbara.’