Part 4 (2/2)
Thomas arrived in the kitchen 30 minutes later looking very shaky and decidedly pale. Larry made him a cup of tea along with a gla.s.s of water and 2 ibuprofen.
”Get those in mate, they kick in fast and will help to shrink your brain back to its normal size. So tell me about yesterday.”
Thomas sat down at the kitchen table, knocked back the tablets and took a sip of his tea and began filling Larry in with the details of his suspension.
”Have you told Janet yet?” asked Larry.
”Not yet, I have that to look forward to tonight. She is not going to be happy, I have just agreed to move in with her. Oh, s.h.i.+t I meant to discuss that with you.”
”Don't worry about that, we can sort something out. So moving in buddy, that's pretty huge. I'm really happy for you. She will be fine by the way, I'm sure this will all work out ok, like you said the kid is lying out of his f.u.c.king a.s.s, I'm sure they will see that. If they don't, I suppose you can always pay someone to give him a d.a.m.n good kicking in the middle of a forest somewhere.” Smirked Larry.
”Ha, not a bad idea.” Replied Thomas as he stood up and staggered the 5 paces across the icy kitchen floor to the fridge. ”I think I need a little hair of the dog, I feel like death. I will replace these when I pop out later.” Thomas reached into the fridge, retrieved a can of strong lager, cracked it open and drank deeply until 3 quarters remained.
”Fair enough, but you take it easy with that stuff. You don't have as much practice as me.” Larry finished his breakfast and left the kitchen to get ready for work. Thomas settled back down at the table and continued his alcoholic breakfast.
Half an hour and another can of strong lager pa.s.sed by. ”See you later fella, see you this evening!” Larry shouted as he slammed the big Victorian door behind him.
Thomas lifted is can in salute to Larry's farewell, took another deep swig and looked around the kitchen. 'I have never noticed that picture before.' He thought to himself.
He had lived in the flat with Larry for nearly 2 years now, sat at the table countless times and never noticed it before. The picture was in fact a painting of a woman dressed all in white, walking away from the edge of a cliff. The background was really dark as if the whole world around her had become a giant storm, but it said one word to Thomas, 'Hope'.
Thomas hoped that Janet would be understanding and supportive about the situation he found himself in, but he wasn't looking forwards to having to explain himself. He pulled another can from the fridge and took it with him into the lounge. 'b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, Larry has actually tidied up. Perhaps I should get s.h.i.+t faced more often.'
He placed his breakfast cans on the coffee table, rolled himself a cigarette from Larry's tobacco pouch, lit it and lay back sighing. Thomas was not a smoker, this was obvious by the way in which he coughed and spluttered after each attempted drag. He had taken up smoking in his first year at university, but only really as a token of his newly found freedom and he quickly gave up. He wasn't particularly enjoying this cigarette, but it was providing a welcome distraction and so he persisted.
He pulled out his mobile from his pajama pocket and text Janet. 'I need to see you tonight, I need to talk to you about something.' He sent it.
Thomas reached to the left of the sofa and retrieved Larry's red fender guitar and begun to strum the only song he knew how to play, Pink Floyd Wish You Were Here.
The reply from Janet came back in just under the hour mark. 'Ok, I can come to yours for 20:00, is everything ok?'
Thomas put the guitar to one side, took a swig of lager and text Janet back, 'Yeah, all is ok. How I wish, how I wish you were here.....x.'
Chapter 19.
It was fair to say that Craig had surprised himself by how he had responded to the very strange situation he found himself in.
After the two men had left, Craig composed himself and closed up the lot for the rest of the day. He took one of the cars from the lot and set about preparing for tomorrow mornings visit.
'I will not be bullied, I would rather die.' Was the mantra that Craig played over and over in his head. He three places that afternoon: A security shop, where he purchased 3 security cameras that he would install strategically around the showroom later.
A sports shop, where he bought a solid oak baseball bat.
A hardware shop, where he bought a small axe.
He returned to the lot and set up the three cameras. One trained on the front door, one on walk from the front door to the counter and the third on the counter itself. He placed the bat and axe on the counter, locked up and went home for the evening.
Craig arrived home just after 8 and popped a ready meal in the microwave. After the ping, he took the meal through to the lounge and sat in front of the TV. After an hour or so of uneventful local news Craig stretched, yawned and stomped off wearily to bed.
He turned off the bedside lamp and closed his eyes. Black.
The man stood in the middle of the sports hall crying. He must have been about 30 years old Craig thought. The hall itself was vast, about 3 times larger than a regular basketball court, with 2 sets of double doors on each of the four walls. The large lamps that illuminated the court flickered, hissed and swung casting eerie shadows of themselves and the man as they moved. The man looked panicked all of a sudden, turning his head this one way and the other violently as if looking for something he knew to be there. The lamps stopped swinging and the hazy white light changed to that of a warm orange glow. The doors at one end of the court boomed out as something with immeasurable strength hammered upon them. Boom boom boom. And then another.
In a few moments all doors were booming with the same rhythmic a.s.sault. Boom boom boom.
The man was hysterical with fear and dropped to his knees in terror clutching his ears with his hands. Craig saw what he thought must be blood beginning to trickle at first from the man's nose, then as if someone turned on a tap a red river run forth.
The booming ceased and the man instinctively dropped his hands. The orange lamps began to swing again and the large room started to vibrate. 2 hooded figures walked directly through each of the 8 doors and just stood watching the man in the middle.
The hooded figures took 2 steps forwards and stopped as behind then 2 further figures walked through the doors behind. 2 more steps forwards, 2 more figures, and so it continued. Within minutes a sea of identically hooded figures lined the entire hall and were slowly closing in on the man. Closer and closer. The man began to scream.
”I'm sorry ok! I'm sorry! I never meant to play! I never meant it, please leave me alone, I don't want to die!”
The figures pressed on towards their man beginning a gentle chant in retort. ”T R I P T R I P T R I P.”
The lamps shook violently and the scene was gone. Craig found himself following a group of 5 teenage boys on bikes in what must have been the early hours of morning. Through streets, across roads making traffic brake violently and blaze horns in protest, through parks and following the slow flow of ancient stagnant steams. They reached a residential area and stopped. Two of the boys dismounted their bikes and headed for a house with a large Victorian door.
A big, well placed kick took the door completely off its hinges and the two disappeared inside. They returned moments later with a man wearing pajamas who looked to be completely asleep. One of the boys carried him effortlessly over his right shoulder, climbed back on his bike and again they were off. Street after street, house after house flew by. The houses eventually started to fade away as they reached a pathway that took them into the countryside. The path took them through trees, past water and over hills. All the while the sleeping man lay undisturbed strewn across the boys unnaturally strong shoulder. The boys reached a clearing in the woods, stopped and dismounted again.
All 5 retrieved torches from their pockets and walked into the darkness ahead. As they walked on Craig became aware of a presence all around him, then he saw them.
Out of the tree line surrounding the clearing came thousands of teenage children all dressed in school uniforms. The group of 5 boys took no notice of the gathering crowd and carried on heading towards what Craig a.s.sumed was the centre of the clearing. The torches flashed this way and that, eventually the boys slowed the pace and the torches swept across a large wooden structure. As they approached it became clear that the structure was an enormous bonfire. An enormous bonfire lying dormant.
The boy carrying the man stepped up onto the pyre and effortlessly climbed to the top. Once there he set about tying the sleeping man to a stake at the very top. He completed the task and nimbly descended the ma.s.s of carefully positioned wood.
The ma.s.s of school children closed in and the boy who had carried the man held aloft a lighter. The crowd burst into riotous cheers and applause which gave way to a menacing chant.
”Burn the pedo! Burn the pedo! Burn the pedo!”
The boy rolled the lighter to life, bent and lit the bonfire. The chanting increased in speed and intensity.
”Burn the pedo! Burn the pedo! Burn the pedo!”
The fire took quickly on the dry wood and bracken, smoke plumed upwards and the fire flickered its orange glow across the chanting faces of the crowd of children.
”Burn the pedo! Burn the pedo! Burn the pedo!”
Still the man slept. The fire rose, the chanting ever increasing, the fire eating and climbing towards the man. It reached his legs and the fabric of his pajamas yielded to the heat and ignited. The flames were at his hips in seconds. The man's eyes sprung open, horrible distorted yellow eyes. He looked desperately at his plight and let out an unearthly and harrowing scream.
<script>