“You
do
know,” said Joe. “All these years of reading and researching, Grandma. You know now. You heard it straight from the horse’s mouth. He told you everything. What good could come from sticking around when you can be away and safe?”
Eleanor hung her head.
“Sometimes I find myself agreeing with Frank,” said Joe with a sigh.
“What’s that?”
“That you just want your questions answered,” he said. “Remember, curiosity killed the cat.”
“But didn’t satisfaction bring it back?” said Eleanor with a small smile.
“Grandma…”
“Okay, okay,” she said. “I’ll go with Anne and the kids. But I’m getting help and coming straight back, deal?”
Joe let go of her hands to embrace her, careful not to squeeze her delicate frame too hard. She returned the hug.
“I just hope there’s something left to come back to,” he whispered.
“Don’t say that, Joseph. We’ve all come this far. This nightmare is about to end.”
The Prowler wobbled back and forth on the kitchen floor, its claws scraping short lines on the linoleum.
“My God,” screamed Anne. “Charlie, get away from it!”
Charlie looked up to his mother with a look of mild annoyance, the fork he prodded the dead Prowler with still in his hand. The Prowler stopped moving as he stood up.
“But Mum…” he whined. “Look at this thing.”
“Do as your mother says right now, young man!” ordered Frank.
Charlie obediently dropped the fork and joined his family by the kitchen sink. Anne held Bronwyn in her arms while Frank made a cup of coffee. He waited for the water coming out of the hot tap to steam before holding his mug underneath. The water mixed with the instant coffee granules to form a dark liquid with a few bubbles popping on top. Frank turned off the tap, gave the brew a quick stir with a spoon and raised the mug to his mouth. In a few quick gulps, the coffee was gone. He put the mug back down on the worktop and smacked his lips.
“Lovely.”
“I think you’re very brave to do this,” said Anne, gently rocking her daughter. “To be honest, these last few hours, I thought you were losing it.”
Frank laughed.
“Losing what? Patience? Dignity?”
“No,” said Anne, “your mind. You really haven’t been yourself, but I’m sure that’s understandable under the circumstances. We’ve all been on edge.”
Frank passed a hand over some of the kitchen utensils still scattered over the work surfaces. He stopped when he arrived at a large butcher knife, the same one he’d used to kill the Prowler earlier. He picked it up by the handle and returned to the sink, running hot water over the soiled blade.
“I’m not crazy,” he said cheerfully. “Not crazy, no sir. Focused! That’s what I am.”
He pulled the knife out of the hot stream and gave it a quick wipe on a tea towel. Although not perfectly clean, the shine of the metal emerged through the patches of black Prowler blood.
“Time to take charge,” he said. “I know what’s needed to finish this, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
Anne eyed the knife. “What do you need that for?”
“You don’t think this is going to go smoothly, do you? Even with Jake on the bike leading them away, we’re still bound to get a bit of trouble. Call this life insurance.” He tucked the knife under his belt, the blade pointing down his hip.
“Think you can get along with Joe?” asked Anne. “I mean, you’re going to be out there alone and…”
“We’re going to get on fine,” he replied quickly. “I’m not doing this for him. In fact, the sooner this is done, the sooner he is out of our lives for good. I’m doing this for these two.” He tickled Bronwyn under the chin and patted Charlie on the head. “And for them, I would get on with Satan himself.”
“Oh Frank.” Anne stepped towards him, raising her head to kiss his cheek.
Frank turned away. “It’s time we got this over with.”
Anne started to cry. “What if…what if you don’t come back?”
Frank grinned.
“Oh, I will. As soon as I’m done with McGuire, I’m coming straight back to my loving wife. You can count on it.”
As One Door Closes…
1.
The women and children were gathered on the sofa in the living room minutes later. Eleanor had Bronwyn in her lap. Next to her, Anne held onto the heavier Charlie. At the end, Jenny, by far the heaviest of them all, sat slumped back.
In front of the fireplace stood the men.
“Presuming we get into the garage,” said Joe, “Frank and I are going to take the petrol as soon as Jake leaves on the bike. When you hear him go past, that’s your signal to slip out the back. Do we all understand?”
There were nods and a few tears dabbed away from the corner of eyes.
“Kids,” said Frank. “Do exactly as your mum tells you, or there’ll be trouble.”
“They will,” said Anne, squeezing Charlie. “They will.”
“Time is running out,” said Joe. “We’d better get to it.” He addressed the group gathered on the sofa. “Wait here. We’ll close the front door behind us. Don’t move until you hear that bike.”
He kissed his grandmother on the cheek.
“I’ll see you soon. Run and don’t look back. Promise me.”
Eleanor looked up through running eyes. “I promise.”
Joe placed his hand on Anne’s shoulder. “Look after them all and take care.”
Anne reached up and held his hand for a second before he straightened up and walked out of the room.
“Bye kids,” said Frank, kissing each on the forehead. “And you…I’ll be back for you.”
Anne smiled, the corners of her mouth trembling. “You’d better be.”
Frank then followed Joe out of the room.
Jake merely looked at his mother, who sat in silence, gazing at the window. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then walked out into the hall.
Joe stood by the front door, facing Frank. They turned to Jake as he joined them, the hammer already in his hand.
“Are we ready?” asked Joe, talking hold of the doorknob.
“You first,” said Jake.
2.
The morning had not let up on its intense brightness, momentarily dazzling the men as they stepped out of the dark house. A single cloud drifted lazily across the ocean of sky, as if slowing its journey to watch the drama unfold as a driver slows at the scene of a car wreck. Still, no birds remained to sing, and no insects buzzed.
Joe closed the door softly and pushed to check it was secure. The wood didn’t budge. Satisfied, he turned to the others, his voice hushed. “See anything?”
Jake and Frank shook their heads.
“Good,” Joe whispered. “If anything sees us, we have to take it out, quickly and quietly.” He gazed around the still garden. “Come on, let’s go.”
With Joe taking the lead, Frank and Joe fell in behind, their weapons already out. Joe had opted out of arming himself, keeping both hands free for carrying the petrol. Halfway down the garden path, Joe paused to observe the damage done to Frank’s car. He pointed to the slashed tyres for the others to notice.
Please God, please let my car be okay
, he thought, not only for what they had planned, but also because he loved the car. Joe knew they planned to blow it up, if all went well. But at least he’d be destroying his baby himself. Better him to have the honour over those horrid little creatures.
A Prowler darted out from the dark underside of the car. Its claws snapped open and closed, disturbing the serene silence of the street.
“Frank,” Joe cried, his words hissed out as he fought the urge to shout. “There!
The Prowler headed straight for the teacher, its legs carrying it quickly over the small band of lawn separating the driveway from the path. Frank jumped back in time to avoid a stabbing blow to his knee. With a yelp, he drove the hand holding the butcher knife down, forcing the blade through the Prowler’s brittle shell.
The creature released a high-pitched chirp, its claws and numerous jointed legs twitching.
“There,” said Joe, pointing to the bottom of the garden. A second Prowler crouched by the small wall that lined the perimeter of the property. Its large eye swept left and right, taking them all in.
“It’s mine,” said Jake, stepping forwards.
Frank continued to work on his Prowler, twisting the knife around until the thing’s movements stopped. His face was speckled by a final jettison of black blood.
The Prowler by the wall started to climb: its pointed legs found purchase on the brick wall and pulled the body up like a crab ascending a rock pool.
“Quickly, Jake. Quickly!”
Snatching a quick breath, Jake dashed forwards.
Too quick, the Prowler reached the top of the wall.
Jake, only halfway across the garden, lifted his right arm and swung it down, hurling the hammer. The shiny metal head flashed in the sunlight as it spun through the air. The hammer struck just below the Prowler. The creature jumped back and off the wall. The hammer fell into a flowerbed.
“Shit!” grunted Jake, still running forwards. He peered over the hip-high wall.
The Prowler lurked on the pavement, in the shadow cast by the wall.
Jake leapt over and landed on the creature with both feet. The body collapsed beneath his trainers.
Joe dashed to his side.
“Dead?” he mouthed.
Jake nodded.
“Here,” said Joe, handing him the hammer he’d fished out between the marigolds and pansies. Jake took it as Frank joined them.
The three men waited, listening for any sign of their discovery.
Penny Crescent had returned to its unnatural silence.
“Let’s go,” whispered Joe, leapfrogging over the garden wall. Frank followed suit. They hurried across the road and running low, headed up the street. They constantly glanced at the gardens for any more of The Collector’s spies. Approaching his grandmother’s house, Joe checked his car. It seemed fine, sitting on full, undamaged tyres.
Thank you
, he thought,
dear Lord, thank you!
They ducked into the Deans’ garden through the double gate left open by the dead milkman. Joe was glad of the slight cover of the abandoned milk float parked at the front of the house. They ran down the driveway, their frantic footsteps echoing off the side of the house. Without a word, they arrived at the garage.
Joe pulled the large door open and after Jake and Frank had slipped inside, he entered the small building, tugging the door closed behind. He turned, barely seeing anything a few feet into the garage. The only light entered via a large hole knocked through the wall at the rear. Despite the size of the cavity, it faced west, allowing little of the bright sunshine into the shadow-filled garage.
“You guys there?” Joe asked. He sucked in a breath and nearly choked on the rancid air.
“Somewhere,” replied Frank. “I can’t see a damned thing.”
“There’s a light,” informed Jake. “It was only the fuse box that caused the lights to go out in the house, right?”
“Right,” said Joe, struggling to breathe easily through the awful stink of the garage.
“Then it should still work. Joe, are you still near the door?”
“Yes. I still have a hand on it.”
“Then reach up. There’s a cord around there.”
Joe did as instructed, grasping around in the darkness around his head. He knew the ceiling was low, maybe just a few inches beyond his reaching fingertips. If the cord was around here, he couldn’t miss it. He touched something thin, dangling a few feet in front of his face. He grabbed it and gave it a firm tug downwards, hearing a click from above.
Light filled the garage.
Joe groaned.
3.
The single bulb glowed in the centre of the ceiling. One half of the glass had taken a splash of rust coloured liquid, throwing parts of the garage into shadow. What little light illuminated the room was enough for Joe, who clamped a hand over his mouth. The contents of his stomach seemed to bubble up his throat. He shut his eyes, but the grisly detail had already buried itself deep into his memory.
The interior of the garage had been hosed in blood. The walls and ceiling were coated in a dry, brown splattering. Footprints left behind by Frank and Jake had flaked on the concrete floor. Scattered around in the mess was the odd pile of more solid matter; things that looked like the throwaways of a butcher’s shop. The smell was horrendous, filling Joe’s nostrils with a thick, dank stench.
He retched, only just managing to avoid throwing up. The powerful smell snaked through his sinuses and into his mouth. He tasted rotten meat at the back of his throat.
“Sweet Jesus…” he said between gags. He opened his eyes again, forcing himself to focus on Frank and Jake, who both held hands over their mouths and noses. “Jake…I can’t…I mean…”
“It’s okay,” said the boy. “I was here when it happened, remember?” He quickly wiped an eye with the back of his hand.
Joe now realised how hard all this must be on the lad. They’d all felt scared, threatened and alone, but only Jake and his mother had lost someone they loved over all of this.
“There are no flies,” said Frank.
“What?” asked Joe.
“There are no flies. At this time of year, and with all this festering in here, we should hardly be able to see for the things.”
“Frank, please have a scrap of compassion and keep things like that to yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
Joe sighed. “Just remember where we are. Jake, where’s the petrol?”
“Over here.”
The boy walked past the motorbike rested on its kickstand to the rear of the garage. In the corner a heap lay, concealed by a dark blanket on the floor. He pulled it off, revealing six green petrol cans lined up in a row underneath.
“We had to hide ‘em,” said Jake. “Mum would’ve gone fucking ape if she’d found out.”
“So would I,” said Joe. “Isn’t this dangerous?”
Jake shrugged his shoulders.
“Where’d you get it?” Frank asked. “Petrol station?”
“Yeah,” replied Jake. “It’s easier to steal in a can. You just fill it and run. They can’t get your licence plate or nothing.”
“Clever,” said Joe. “Frank, you going to help me get them out of here? Frank?”