Part 9 (2/2)

”I know what you're thinking; the book of Psalms is attributed to King David. But truth be told, over ten different people contributed to it. From Mosses, the Sons of Korah, Haggai, Zechariah, Ethan the Ezrahite and Heman the Ezrahite, to name a few.

”Ah, false religion was my greatest accomplishment.

”In fact all false religion upon the earth that I have created is referred to as Babylon the Great. Simply because that's where it all started. Why, instead of convincing them G.o.d doesn't exist, I simply buried Him under millions of other false ones.” That twisted smile.

”And it worked. Turning one religion which I created against another. Almost every war ever fought has been over religion. There has been only four days, since 1914, at the start of World War I, where there hasn't been a war going on somewhere on your planet. Four f.u.c.king days, that's how good I am at fermenting chaos. Even as we speak, this very day there are seventeen wars going on. Most are in Africa.” She took a long drag and held it a touch longer and normal, before blowing a large noxious cloud.

”Of course,” she said offhandedly, ”my favourite three G.o.ds will always be Money, s.e.x and Power.” Her face cracked into that horrific Ches.h.i.+re cat grin.

”Time's up,” she said, changing the subject suddenly while climbing unsteadily to her bare, dirty feet.

”Already?” I asked. Looking at the clock hanging over the huge mantelpiece I saw that it was almost midnight. Time seemed to have a way of losing itself when he was around.

She sucked hard on the cigarette, pulling in her last breath.

”Tomorrow try and be here earlier, if you have to go out. I am a very busy ent.i.ty.” She stared at me hard, her eyes boring into the top of my lowered head.

”Tomorrow is all about the gathering of the nations. Israel was born.” She spat the name out, as if it tasted rotten.

Then without fanfare or another word, she fell back into the chair. As dead as those buried beneath my garden.

Whether it was his intention or not, but when the body fell back the knot in the robes come undone. She lay back in the chair, legs wide apart, head slumped sideways, arms hanging limply on either side. The most disturbing thing though was what the fallen robe had revealed. Her stomach was ripped open from her v.a.g.i.n.a right up past her belly b.u.t.ton. Her large and small greyish-purple intestines had sagged out her stomach, now the robe wasn't holding them in place. Big purple and grey clots, red veins and twisting innards had spilled out onto the carpet. A few drips still splattered down into the now large gathered sticky pool.

What had caused the horrific injuries? I had no idea. Would someone purposefully do that to themselves? I couldn't even being to comprehend why. Maybe she had found out she was pregnant. I had heard stories about women who tried to do home abortions on themselves. Had she slipped while trying to do it herself with a knitting needle or a pair of scissors, or possibly a twisted metal coat hanger? Or had someone else done it to her? Possibly a husband or boyfriend having found out she was pregnant by another man. Another casualty of pointless rage.

I was pondering these mysteries and thinking of how I was going to clean the mess up, when the front door started banging.

He's forgotten to tell me something. Why had he come back with someone else? Why not just reanimate the body slumped in the chair?

”Coming. Hold your horses,” I shouted.

”Sorry to disturb you so late, Mr. Cain. I just need to take a statement from you, while the incident is still fresh in your mind, being that you were one of the first on the scene along with, Ms. Cuddy and me.”

f.u.c.k! What was Kemp doing here so late? It was now past midnight.

I could still hear him talking through the door.

”Sorry it's so late. But it was difficult to get away from, Ms. Cuddy.” He had obviously been to her house first. It sounded like he was now facing away from the door, looking around.

Nosy b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

”One moment. It's very late,” I shouted trying to stall for time.

”It will only take a few minutes, Mr. Cain,” came his relaxed voice.

I stood stock still, like a rabbit trapped in the lights of an oncoming speeding car. There was a dead body slumped in my chair, her guts all over my front room floor. s.h.i.+t and p.i.s.s as well now that her body had relaxed.

I ran to the kitchen grabbing the empty trashcan and a plate from off the draining board. I now found myself knelt down on my carpet, shovelling slippery innards into my kitchen bin, using my hands to push the wet sticky bruise coloured intestines, and thick blood clots, onto the plate. It felt like cold rubbery uncooked sausages.

In any other circ.u.mstance if I had seen a persons intestines spread out like a tacky Halloween display, I would've probably vomited everywhere. But at that precise moment I was s.h.i.+t scared. A hundred and one things rus.h.i.+ng through my mind. Kemp knew I was in, because my car was there and I had already shouted through the door.

f.u.c.k! f.u.c.k! f.u.c.k!

The voice continued on the other side of the door. ”I won't take up too much of your time,” he called, sounding like he was now moving around outside.

Hopefully he wouldn't roam all the way around, discovering the mounds in the back garden. Luckily it was pitch black around there. He couldn't possibly see a thing. If he did see them I would say it was just rubbish I had buried. Many people with large gardens, who grow vegetables, dig long trenches and fill them with rotting vegetable matter, and other degradable household waste. Making a cheep, recyclable natural fertilizer. I use too, when I first moved in, but soon gave up because it was too much hard work.

I tried to ignore him, hopefully he thinks I've returned upstairs to put on some respectable clothes.

”Mr. Cain?”

I could see a powerful flashlight against my small side window. Luckily it was shut and the curtains pulled tightly across. Trust him to carry a torch. 00-f.u.c.king-7.

”One moment,” I said, trying to make my voice sound like it had come from somewhere else apart from the front room.

I rested the bin on her lap, grabbing the corners of the high back chair; I tipped it backwards and dragged it along on its two back legs, heading past the hallway and stairs and into the kitchen, leaving a long trail of clotting blood behind, and a long snaking line of looped intestines that had dropped from her open abdomen, it looked like a long wet sausage skin that had been filled with greyish purple golf b.a.l.l.s. The average human body holds about seven meters of intestines about two meters were trailing along the floor.

”Mr. Cain, please can you open this door?” The m.u.f.fled voice was heading around the back now.

I felt like shouting for him to p.i.s.s-off. Or say it's too late come back tomorrow. But Kemp was like dog with a bone; once he was up to something he wouldn't quit until he had achieved it.

I left the chair and the body in the kitchen. Then I proceeded to roll up the carpet from in front of the fire and take it into the kitchen, throwing it down beside the dead woman. One last thing, with a couple of dishcloths I shuffled a long on my hands and knees cleaning up the blood trail. I then dropped the cloth into the coal bucket and shut the lid.

Then I noticed my s.h.i.+rt was saturated with blood too. s.h.i.+t! I took it off and threw it next to the carpet, and took off my socks too. I composed myself while was.h.i.+ng my hands in the kitchen sink. Then I got a handful of water and soaked my hair and sprinkled some over my shoulders and down my back.

Ready. Well, ready as I would ever be.

A thousand things ran through my mind. I pictured myself being led away handcuffed. People pointing, whispering, saying, ”For him to be able to write books that twisted there had to be something wrong with him.”

”Coming,” I hollered loudly.

I opened the front door and started looking around trying to find him. The cold air hit my bare torso like a kick in the chest. Kemp appeared from around the corner. Just in time, he would have been standing around the back if I hadn't called him.

”Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Cain.”

No he wasn't.

”That's perfectly ok, Mr. Kemp.” He hated being called Mr. and not stating his rank. ”I was having a bath,” I said lamely. He could obviously see I was stood in just my jeans, no socks or top, and my hair was dishevelled and wet. Whether it looked convincing or not was another matter.

”I was just checking everything was alright?” He peered over my shoulder. I moved slightly to block his view.

”You must have heard by now about what had happened?”

”Yes. Tragic and very upsetting.” I lied. I had seen my fair share of dead bodies. Had only moments before been scooping up slippery intestines with my bare hands.

”Mind if I come in?”

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