Asylum - 13 Tales of Terror (3 page)

“Oh they had other plans for me,” she sneered venomously, “I was…, I was assaulted.”

Julian didn’t need to ask in what manner; the look of her torn clothing made it evident enough.

He took a sharp intake of breath as the woman fashioned an awkward dressing from the car’s first aid kit and stuck it onto his wounded shoulder. He quickly pulled on his sweatshirt; glad of the warmth against the cold night, but still slightly aggrieved and unsettled by his badly matching outfit.

“I don’t know your name my dear,” he suddenly thought to ask.

“Gemma, Gemma King,” she said sadly as though the married surname was yet another reminder as to her loss.

“Look, I think that the best thing to do in these circumstances is for us to find some more appropriate help,” Julian stated firmly. “Let me try my phone,” he said as he searched the glove box for his mobile.

“It won’t do any good; we were trying earlier this afternoon. There’s no signal out here,” Gemma said glumly.

“Well I’ll try again and we’ll see,” Julian took his cell phone and was disappointed to find that the small illuminated screen mocked him with no signal bars. He cursed yet another object that could not fulfill its simple base function. “Do you know where we are?” He had to annoyingly ask.

“No, we were already lost when those bastards stopped us. They took me off somewhere in the woods, and since I managed to escape I could’ve been running in circles for all I know.”

“How
did
you manage to escape?” he probed gently.

“They left me alone with just one guard, when he, you know…, finished,” she looked at the floor embarrassed, “He fell asleep. I had to cuddle him and stroke his goddamned hair but eventually he started snoring,” she spat angrily.

Julian watched the poor girl as she spoke of horrors endured and remembered.

“I managed to sneak his keys off of his belt and slip out. I had no idea where I was, or where I was going, but I just kept running. I kept running until I couldn’t run anymore, and then I heard them coming. They were crashing through the woods like a herd of wild elephants, shouting and screaming after me. Suddenly by the grace of God I stumbled onto the road and you found me.”

“Well, this
is
a road,” he said looking ahead, “And all roads lead to somewhere. I’m sure that we will come to civilization sooner or later. We will be able to contact the authorities and I will be able to make some important calls of my own,” he said thinking of the plan - always the plan.

The road stretching before them was pitch black; there was no lighting of any kind, no streetlights or even cat’s eyes. There was just a faded white line along the centre of the lonely road. Julian looked depressingly into the thick woodland that surrounded them. He could see no building lights of any kind through the dark trees and despite his passenger, he had never felt quite so alone.

The darkness behind them suddenly exploded into life as full beam headlights rounded the bend.

“Oh good,” Julian said relieved to find help.

“Oh God,” moaned Gemma.

“It’s help,” Julian said hopefully.

“It’s them,” Gemma stated.

The flashing and rolling blue and red lights of the pursuing car proved Gemma right and the still night was suddenly shattered by the piercing wail of a siren.

Gemma fumbled with the car keys that thankfully and expediently still hung from the ignition. She started the rental at the second attempt and cranked the automatic transmission into drive.

Julian was flung back painfully into the passenger seat as the car leapt forward; gravel was flung furiously into the air as they roared away from their pursuers. He desperately fumbled with his seatbelt as Gemma drove feverishly; her face was a mask of terrified desperation and concentration. He risked a glance back over his shoulder; the powerful following car was closing the gap quickly. He ran a quick calculation in his head and could immediately tell that they were no match for the vastly superior vehicle. His mind rebelled at his predicament; he could already tell by looking at the digital clock that he would be unlikely to make his appointment in Dartford. It wasn’t death that he feared the most, it was slipping from the plan. He looked down at his scuffed and muddy shoes. His trousers were stained from his own dripping blood and his casual sweatshirt mocked him with its mismatched styling.

The car suddenly leapt on them. It accelerated, smashing into their rear; metal screeched in protest as they swerved dangerously. Gemma fought for control as they sashayed across both lanes of the narrow road. She managed through great effort and no little luck to get them straight again. The car lurched with one last defiant shot before obeying.

Julian glanced around desperately searching for inspiration. The road was long and direct and there were no buildings, cars or witnesses to be seen. There were no turnoffs that he could see anywhere; only the dark ominous woods.

The headlights behind them leapt again and Julian knew that their luck could not possibly hold a second time, his fears were founded. The rear corner of their rental was clipped as the vehicle behind attempted a “fishtail” stopping technique that Julian had once seen on a TV show. The car pulled up alongside the rear corner of their car; it then turned into them. The rental attempted to maintain its traction as the vehicle continued to steer into them but it was no match for their more powerful adversary. Julian felt them begin to spin and knew that they were lost. Gemma wrestled manfully with the steering wheel but the end was inevitable. The rental car spun and skidded around. Julian’s stomach heaved with the motion. Metal screamed and crunched and Julian knew that they would eventually come to a controlled stop. For once he attempted to run from control and embrace the chaos.

“HOLD ON!” He yelled to Gemma and wrenched up the handbrake. The impact was instant and terrifying as the car shrieked and squealed. The odour of burnt rubber and failing break disks filled the air and the car flipped over and rolled. Julian was dimly aware that he was tumbling through the air; all sense of control and order lost as his world spun madly. The headlights shattered under the crash and the black night invaded the car’s interior as they eventually shuddered to a halt.

The next thing he knew was when he felt himself being pulled; the pain from his shoulder wound waking him from his unconscious slumber. He felt his back being shredded by broken glass as he was dragged free of the car. His sweatshirt had rucked up and exposed his flesh to the painful shards. His mind reached for a grip as to his whereabouts; he had been travelling to an important meeting, but he had been delayed by the incompetents of the world. He remembered driving through the night, and then…, and then the girl; he suddenly remembered the girl. He looked up through his spotty vision to see Gemma pulling him desperately through her own pain. Her face was a crimson mask as blood flowed from a scalp wound that looked serious. Her already battered body had gone another ten rounds in the crash.

“You alive?” She panted.

“I think so,” he mumbled through a swollen mouth.

“Then get up, I can’t drag you all the way,” she snapped.

Julian heaved himself drunkenly back to his feet. He swayed unsteadily and his vision swam for a moment or two before kicking in. B
ack on the clock
, he thought.
Back on the plan
, he demanded of himself.

He turned and looked back towards the twisted mess on the road; both cars were now twisted carcasses, joined together in an eternal burning embrace. He could see a blackened roasted arm sticking through the window of what had been the pursuing car. Scorched flesh hung loosely in flaps like fried chicken skin and his stomach lurched violently.

“Are they…?” He asked through a lump in his throat.

“No-one has left their car; I ventured a closer look while you were out and before the fire started. I could see two bodies in there. Both looked dead to me.”

Julian looked towards her as the spite fell from her mouth; he could guess that she wished there had been more bloated and roasted bodies inside.

“Where do we…?” was as far as he got before the night was once again shattered by another approaching siren’s wail.

“Quick,” Gemma said as she grabbed his arm with adrenaline fuelled strength and pulled him towards the woods. “We have to go, they’re still coming. There were more than two of them and they’re going to be pissed when they find their fried buddies here.”

Julian staggered after her as they crashed through the dark trees; wet dewy branches slapped him viciously across the face, blinding him with painful scratches. He ran clumsily with only her back for guidance. Thick undergrowth tore at his trousers and attempted to snag his feet and hinder. He ran with his head down and one hand up to protect his face. He ran until his lungs screamed in protest and his heart fluttered worryingly. He panted and sweated; his legs burned with the unusual effort and he thought that he would faint. Eventually Gemma stopped and he ran into the back of her. The impact was hard and sent him spinning to the muddy ground.

“Over there,” she hissed pointing.

Julian dragged himself up to his feet and followed her arm. Through the trees he could see a clearing and a small wooden cabin sitting dark and seemingly deserted.

“Come on,” she said without waiting for him.

He stumbled out into the clearing after her, “Wait,” he whispered, hating to stumble around without a plan; his ordered mind still forcibly demanded structure. “We can’t just wander blindly up to a stranger’s door. What if they’re like those guys who chased us? We don’t even know who lives here.”

“Oh I know all right,” she said in a strange cold voice, “They do. This is where they brought me.”

Julian stopped suddenly, “Then what the hell are we doing here? We should be running in the opposite direction,” he snapped as quietly as he could.

“We are going to kill them all for what they did to me,” she growled in a low and primal voice. “For what they did to William.”

Julian wanted to turn and run but the woods were dark and he had no idea in what direction to flee. He turned to reason with Gemma but he was scared to find that she had already reached the cabin and was skulking around towards the side window. He hurried after her, not wanting to be left alone and vulnerable in the open. He quickly joined her and grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?” He hissed.

She turned to him and he felt a cold metallic object thrust into his hand. He looked down and saw a glinting smooth revolver.

“Where did you get this?” He whispered.

“From their car. I managed to reach in and take it before the fire.”

“But I don’t even know how to fire a gun.”

“You’re American aren’t you?” She asked softly.

“That doesn’t mean that I know anything about guns,” he said realizing that stereotypes apparently worked both ways across the pond.

“It’s simple,” she said taking back the gun and showing him, “Safety off like this, cock it by pulling the hammer back like this, and now you’re set,” she handed him back the weapon.

Julian hefted the weight; somehow reassured by the solidness of the revolver. A simple piece of machinery; one function and one purpose. Point, shoot, kill. His rational mind finally felt something that it could get on-board with.

He followed Gemma as she slipped alongside the wooden walls; the cabin was dark inside and seemed empty. They both crept to the window at the side and peered inside with hands cupped. There was no movement; no tell-tale shadows, the lights were off, and the fireplace devoid of flame.

Gemma tugged his elbow gently and he followed her to the front door. His heart skipped a beat and he raised the gun with a trembling arm as she opened the door. There was no explosion of movement from inside; no cries of alarm or shouts of aggression and they both slipped quietly inside.

He had barely closed the door behind him when he heard the throaty roar of a car approaching; he ran to the front window and peered out into the darkness. Powerful headlights shone in the distance illuminating the gravel lane that Julian had missed in the dark. “They’re coming,” he shouted, panicking. He had not formed a plan. There was no time, no time.

“Here, quick,” Gemma yelled.

Her voice was strong and clear and Julian responded to the authority, “How many will there be?” he asked.

“Three at the most. There were five and two are dead in the crash, so there should only be three left.”

“What do we do?” Julian floundered.

“Get in that closet,” she pointed to a door near the front of the cabin. “They’ll come in and see me standing here. As soon as their attention is fully focused on me, you step out behind and shoot them. Don’t you hesitate or we’ll both be dead, or worse,” she added ominously.

Julian ran for the closet as the car crunched to a halt outside. It may not be a good plan, but at least it was a plan and any plan was better than none. He wrenched open the closet door and jumped inside. The damp moldy smell was almost overpowering with the door closed, but he did not dare open it even a crack. Heavy winter coats tickled his neck from behind; the fur was pungent and ripe. He heard the cabin door suddenly fling open and heavy footsteps pounded in. Light flooded under the closet door as a generator rumbled and kicked in somewhere out back. He suddenly noticed that there was a knot hole in one of the planks that made up the closet door and he pushed one eye up against the vantage point. He could just make out three heavy set men; all three wore dark uniforms that upon this closer inspection seemed more military than police issue. The men were all burly and well built; powerful frames were augmented by gym honed muscle. Their faces wore identical heavy beards and their eyes were all deep set and cruel, as though devoid of compassion. They looked like what they were - dangerous men.

“Where the hell is she?” One of the men barked.

“I don’t bloody know, we’ve searched everywhere, there’s no trace,” answered another.

“Maybe she got away with that guy?” Said the third.

“And who the hell was he?” Said the first.