Authors: Colin Griffiths
‘We have a nice place for you, it’s number 12 Hawthorne, and Steve our busman will take you there once you been registered, his tone was tedious, his look was steadfast.
‘We don’t want to stay, we just want to get out of this dump’ Said Lily, she twisted her face up to demonstrate what she thought of Underwood,
The sheriff stared expressionless at her, Lily quivered, wishing she hadn’t said anything at all, Eileen held her hand tightly,
‘it will be okay,’ she whispered, she screwed up her eyes as she saw the fear in her daughters eyes, Lily didn’t believe it was going to be okay, the truth was Eileen didn’t either.
‘That won’t be necessary’ said Peter, trying to make some sense of this, trying to take control of the situation, his voice was confident and assured, he stood up, feeling it would give him some sort of advantage,
‘we shall be leaving now, if you could just tell us the way out’ he sounded defiant, he sounded more confident,
‘you tell them dad’
thought Lily, the room went silent as they all looked on at the man daring to tackle the sheriff,
‘That will not be possible’ said the Sherriff, dismissing Peter and anything he had to say like a squatted fly.
Peter made a move to leave but before he could reach Eileen’s hand to help her out of her seat, in one swift movement, he was spun through the air and slammed on his back onto the table they were sat at, the drinks crashed to the floor, the hot coffee just missing them, Eileen screamed and jumped out of her seat taking a step back, Lily tried to do the same but the table slammed into her forcing her and her chair to the floor, Craig came running over and helped her up, she wasn’t hurt but the tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked at her father, Nathan just stood there with a pool cue in his hand, dumfounded and terrified, a lady got up from one of the tables and put her arm around him to comfort him, as they all looked at Peter, on the table with the sheriffs one hand around his throat, no one tried to help Peter, no one dared, Eileen screamed,
‘Please leave him alone’ she pleaded,
‘Get off him,’ screamed Lily, ‘get off my dad,’
Peter thought the life was going to be choked out of him such was the strength of the man, and he wriggled and threw punches, but they bounced off the sheriff like flies, then he felt the pressure release, as Allan released his grip, he gasped for air, and he coughed and spluttered as he got off the table and held his own throat, he had never met a man with such strength and it was that moment Peter really knew they were in trouble,
‘I am arresting you for insubordination’ said the sheriff and promptly lifted him off the floor, swung him around and handcuffed him, a man and a woman came in through the bar doors dressed in security uniform and Promptly took Peter away, it felt like they were on stand bye, it all appeared so rehearsed, he still protested, he still shouted, he still, screamed, he didn’t want to leave his wife and kids there,
‘What the fuck’s happening here’ he shouted, but no one answered as he was dragged out of the building screaming and kicking.
Nathan shook in fright seeing what was happening to his father, the tears flowed down Lily’s cheeks still, she wanted to get that pool cue and wrap it around the sheriffs head, Eileen was trying her best not to cry for her children, the sheriff picked up the chairs and gestured for the three of them to sit back down, all three did shaking with fear, they had seen the consequences of not doing as he asked, the others in the bar either looked on in sympathy or carried on with whatever it was they were doing, to scared to even make eye contact, no one spoke, not even to each other, Craig Jones the bartender looked on from the bar, feeling sympathy for the nice young lad he just had a game of pool with.
The sheriff sat down and stroked his chin again, for some reason unknown to Eileen she wished he would stop doing that, somehow it made him scarier, it felt like he was pondering what he was going to do, it felt like they were about to be given a life sentence.
‘As I said number 12 Hawthorne, Steve our driver will escort you with your bags, I’ll send the handyman around to make sure you’re ok, don’t leave the building until the vicar and , or, the judge visit you, they will explain everything’ he got up to leave, his patience was running thin.
‘Can I ask a question please’ asked Eileen, she almost raised her hand such was the dominating presence of Allan Herapath, he nodded for her to go ahead, even though he had no interest in hearing what she or anyone else had to say, she stuttered her words out, the fear showed in her voice,
‘We didn’t mean to come here, or do any harm, when can we leave please, it was the kind of question he expected, he leaned over to her, his face inches from hers as she sat, she thought she was going to wet herself, she could feel his breath as he spoke, it seemed an age before he did eventually speak, Eileen had to force herself from not turning away in disgust, she could
Smell his breath, feel it as it hit her face, his breath was rancid like rotted meat
‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible’ he said, but he didn’t have to say it, his dark red eyes already told her so.
The cell was typical of any prison cell that you would see in a British movie , 3 concrete walls and bars to the front, Peter had tried fighting the security off, but with him cuffed and there being two of them he had failed drastically, the woman had a harder grip than the man and his arm hurt from where she grabbed him, his throat was also hurting as if a clamp was still squeezing the breath out of him, it had weakened him considerably, more than he realised, what was unusual about this jail was the size, the cell was about 8 x 6, that’s all the prison consisted of was 1 cell and an area about 4x3 in front of it with a chair and a door, no windows, it stunk, it was damp, there was an old mattress on the floor and a bucket for a toilet, Peter really hoped he wouldn’t have to sleep on that mattress as it appeared to be alive.
Peter stood pacing the small cell, trying to comprehend everything that had happened and was still happening, his mind was in turmoil with the circumstances he found himself in, he still wasn’t sure what was happening, or even how it had happened, he had to get out to his wife and kids, they were his priority, that’s all that mattered for that particular moment, he thought of his own father who had died a few years ago, he was hoping he was looking down on him and he would help him through this, they had taken his belt and shoes off him, ‘
as if I’m going to hang myself’
he thought, he still thought that this was all a mistake and soon someone would come and tell them what was happening and put them on the road out of Underwood, his body chilled when he thought of the sign he had seen.
24 hours ago they were still in Sheffield, leaving to go on their annual summer holiday, there was an excitement in the air, a time to cherish and remember, now they were stuck in some place called Underwood, a place not even on a map, they had an armed sheriff and he was in a cell ‘
how has this happened he thought, this is fucking Britain’
he punched the wall, he looked at the marks on his knuckles but he felt no pain, then he punched the wall again as if hurting himself would somehow make things right, he put both hands to his temples, he just wanted to scream.
With there being no windows the place was dark other than a bit of light coming through some vents and from underneath the door, but then the place brightened up as the door opened and in came the sheriff, he looked even bigger in the small cell and even though there were bars between them, Peter stepped back, he tried not to show the anger and fear he was feeling, but he failed to do so, the sheriff sat on the chair.
‘Are my wife and kids okay ‘Peter asked, he noticed the nervousness in his own voice,
The sheriff turned the chair so it was facing Peter, it looked as if the chair would collapse under the weight, he was expressionless, and Peter realised that he actually feared this man,
‘Now that was daft thing to do, insubordination, that’s a serious offence, said the sheriff with his usual grin, Peter could see he was enjoying it,
‘Are my wife and kids okay’ Peter shouted, he didn’t realise he had raised his voice and regretted doing so,
The sheriff stood up put his face against the bars, Peter stepped further back he was almost touching the rear wall, it looked as if he wanted to the sheriff could just pull the bars apart to get at him, he felt he wouldn’t have needed keys.
‘That’s your one chance ‘he warned, and sat back down,
‘They are fine, they should be moving into their new home right now’ he added.
Peter winced at those words, it seemed the most natural thing to the sheriff that his wife and kids were moving in to a new house, he knew he had to play it cool, he dreaded to think what the sheriff would do if he antagonised him again,
‘When will we be able to go home’ Peter asked. Stroking his chin the sheriff said
‘I’m afraid that is impossible, you see this is Underwood’ the words chilled Peter to the bone as the sheriff got up to leave, he opened the door, before he left he turned around, Peter could see his dark eyes, he could feel them piercing him
‘You see, there’s one way in, but there isn’t any way out, he closed the door behind him as Peter sunk to his knees.
Steve Duce the fluorescent waist coated No. 64 bus driver took them to Hawthorne, no words were spoken as he drove and no questions asked by the occupants of the bus, Hawthorne was a close of 12 houses each side and four at the top, Number 12 was the last house on the left, and that’s exactly what Eileen thought as they pulled up, recalling the horror movie, she hadn’t seen that particular film and at that time she was glad of that, but like in all horror films people usually died, she cursed herself as she tried to get the thoughts out of her head, Steve Duce got out and lifted their cases onto the pavement, Stuart Hillman a thin man in his fifties was stood there waiting for them, he had the keys in his hand and jangled them in the air as they got off the bus, Steve drove off leaving them to it, wishing he wasn’t the only bus driver in Underwood.
‘Welcome to your new home’ Stuart said and smiled a toothless smile, ‘he looks creepy’ Lily whispered, and Eileen thought she hadn’t met anyone yet who wasn’t creepy, Nathan said nothing, he just clung onto his mother’s hand as if he would never let it go.
Stuart opened the door for them to go in, they wanted to object but they did as they were told, they had seen the consequences of not doing as they were told, but Stuart looked a weak and feeble man and Eileen thought the three of them could overpower him easily if they had to, Lily stood there with aggression building up inside of her, she wanted to kick the man in the balls, for no other reason that the satisfaction it would have given her, but they went inside and Stuart followed, the front door opened to a long passage with a staircase at the side, the door at the end led to a kitchen, it was nicely done out and looked to have all the utensils hung on its yellow walls, but no enthusiasm came from the new tenants, after all as soon as this was all cleared up they would be getting out of Underwood, in a few hours they would be out of here, they were sure of that, the u shaped living room was the same, sofa’s, a bookcase and a cabinet with a nice coffee table in the centre, the other part of the u housed a large dining table and six chairs, the curtains were pastel, the sun shone in from the large window, making the room bright and airy, but it didn’t feel lived in, it didn’t feel like anyone’s home.
‘Upstairs’ Stuart said and went to lead the way,
‘We’ll look later’ Eileen told him, she really didn’t want to go upstairs with him and besides she wouldn’t need the bedrooms, she had no intention of stopping here,
‘Please yourself’ he said as if he wasn’t bothered either way,
Somehow Nathan felt a bit more comfortable and he went to switch on the tele, his young confused mind had switched to holiday mode as he fiddled with the remote control, nothing happened, Lily took the remote from him and tried, still nothing, she slung it on the sofa,
nothing in this place works,
‘Mum the tele won’t come on’ said Nathan. Eileen looked at Stuart for an explanation, but she wasn’t really bothered either way,
‘No leccy’ he said,
‘Well how do we get electric’ asked Eileen, her patience growing thin,
‘It’s a meter you need one of these vouchers’ said Stuart, holding a voucher up in the air, teasing Eileen as if daring her, Eileen tried to grab it, Stuart snatched it away, he drew himself closer and started rubbing her breast ‘ it’ll cost you’ he told her,
She hit his hand away, it was certainly not what she was expecting, and her children looked on in horror,
‘Leave my mum alone you dirty bastard’ shouted Lily, she got up to face the man, Eileen held her back with her hand, Nathan stood opened mouthed, the holiday mood now gone and replaced with something far worse,
‘Get out’ Eileen screamed, as her two children looked on, the fear still showing on their faces.
‘You’re a pervert’ shouted Lily,
Stuart left saying ‘you’ll soon learn’ as he did so, and they could hear him laughing as he closed the door behind him,
soon,
he thought,
very soon,
Eileen hugged her children not quite believing what was happening.
They sat huddled on the sofa, still not quite believing what the events of the day had brought, wanting Peter to be there as he would sort it, it still felt like a nightmare that they had walked into, somehow still hoping that soon they would wake up, Eileen thought about going to look for Peter and then remembered what the sheriff had said about leaving the building, so they sat and waited and Eileen cradled her children in both arms, an overwhelming sense of fear and dread came over her, she just wanted Peter to come back and take them away from this, they sat like that for thirty minutes, until they heard the front door open.
It was what they expected, this wasn’t fete or destiny, it was something far worse.
Andy Thomas looked at himself in the full length mirror, he run the back of his hand against his clean shaven chin, it always felt good after he shaved, it was like he had cleansed the devil from within him, and his remains washed down the sink, being cleaned shaven made him feel like he beat the devil, he tried to stretch his thinning hair over his scalp, as he did every other day, although it was still no good, he would have to accept that he was losing the battle, or rather his hair was losing him, his brown cowboy hat would cover most of it, however he always took his hat off in doors and always suspected that people were attracted by his bald head, because that’s where their eyes always went, if only he knew it was his own dark eyes they were drawn to, he wondered if he should ditch the hat and just accept the losing hair loss battle, it didn’t seem right that he had to shave the hair off his face two or sometimes three times a day, but when it came to his head it would just not grow, where is the logic in that he would say, he thought it was just another fucked up part of this human world, he really wanted a wig, but there was no wig makers in Underwood,
‘
perhaps the new family come from a generation of wig makers’
he grinned at himself in the mirror, he was looking forward to meeting his new family, his dog collar was pristine, he stepped back so he could see himself full length in the mirror, his brown suit looked good, he brushed his hand against his cheeks as he admired himself, he thought the new tenants in no.12 would be impressed.
‘
it’s always important to look good’
he told himself, he would not take the bus to Hawthorne, he would walk, it was only 15 minutes from the centre and the air was fresh, the exercise would do him good, and beside that he liked to be seen by the residents, the subjects that he reigned over, for Andy Thomas didn’t see himself as their vicar, he was far more than that, he was their god.
He picked up his clip board that lay on the dresser beside him, he studied his duties for the day, and as he did whenever he left that room, he went to the picture of the good lord that hung beside the bed and he kissed it, he walked on down the stairs out of the front door to meet the day,
‘I fucking hate Sundays’
he told himself.
He walked along Waltwood, that was the road that ran around the perimeter of Underwood, all other roads led from it, he lit a cigarette as he walked, enjoying the hit at the back of the throat, he only laced it with a bit of bush today, after all it was a Sunday, his day of work, he didn’t want to appear stoned on a Sunday, not that anyone could do anything about it, he just liked the reputation he had built and wanted to keep it, people would never judge him, for he would not allow it, he was glad you could grow the stuff he smoked, but very soon if they didn’t get some more tobacco he would be smoking the stuff neat, he got the Judge to ban the sale of cigarettes and would only be given as rewards, it had worked very well as people would do most things to feed their cravings, and it also gave him a bedroom full of them as they took it off the shelves, but at forty a day, they would soon go, and then he would have to sacrifice someone for the gods to deliver more, for provisions were far more important than people, without provisions you had no people, but he hoped the recent turning of Underwood had brought more provisions as it had done in the past, he hadn’t checked the shops yet to see what their stocks were like, his own cupboards were always bare, he had no use for them, cigarettes and bush was all he required from Underwood, he was under the opinion the people of Underwood needed him more than he needed them, that would always be the case, because all he needed was the will to survive, the people of Underwood could and would not survive without him, after all he wasn’t just the vicar, he was the one who beat the devil.
He looked at the number on the houses as he walked up Hawthorne, he spotted no 12 in the corner ‘
a fine house’
he thought, there were plenty of fine houses in Underwood, it was just finding the tenants, but this was his favourite street, it seemed more peaceful to him, more religious, he was sure that an angel or some iconic religious figure had either been born or died in the street, but he chose not to live there, home had no meaning to him, existing was all that mattered.