Savage Night (36 page)

Couldn't help it.

He'd looked at his arm. Couldn't tear his eyes away. What a mess.

Oh, shit.

He'd done it now.

***

IF TOMMY HAD known about Park's blood problem earlier, things would have been so much easier. Could have peeled the plaster off his infected arm, given the wound a squeeze, shown it to Park when he wasn't expecting it.

Knock yourself out, you cunt.

Maybe he should have worked it out from the way Park had avoided looking at the laptop. But, really, who'd have guessed? Maybe if he'd spoken more to Grant the boy would have let slip. But, no, Tommy wasn't going to beat himself up about this. There wasn't a thing he could have done to stop Phil and Fraser from being killed. Not a thing.

He buckled at the stabbing pain in his belly. Shit, he'd thrown up something weird already. Wasn't going to happen again, was it? That wasn't real. He'd imagined it.

It wasn't possible.

Then again, it wasn't possible that Grant was dead, that Phil and Fraser were dead, that Tommy'd shot two people, that he was about to kill someone else.

He had to get on with it, stop wasting time. Stop thinking about it and just do it.

"Dad?" Jordan was in the doorway. God knew how long he'd been there. Probably heard the shot. He was looking at the bodies. "Is she dead?"

Tommy nodded. "She can't hurt you now."

"What about him?" He nodded at Park. "Is he dead?"

"Not yet."

"He's a mentalist."

"He is. Complete psycho."

"I want to go."

"After I've killed him," Tommy said. Only question was how. He ought to hack all his limbs off, leave him to bleed to death. That was all the subhuman piece of trash deserved. Tommy couldn't have done that to Effie, but Park was different. Tommy was tired, though. Really tired. And he had hardly any strength left. The last couple of weeks were catching up with him.

And his stomach. Fuck, his stomach.

He swallowed hard and the pain eased, but he knew it'd be back soon enough. He just needed a moment or two to decide how to dispose of Park.

"Dad?" Jordan said, looking at Park and his daughter. "Do you think we're like them?"

"How can you say that?" Tommy said. "They're sick."

***

"I'LL COME WITH you," Jordan said.

Tommy had said he'd go down to the van and back, he'd only be gone a minute. Jordan didn't want him to, even though he pointed out that there was no danger in the bedroom now that Effie was dead and Park was chained up and unconscious. Then Tommy suggested that maybe Jordan could run down to the van and get the petrol, but Jordan wasn't any keener on that idea. The thought of the bodies in the back spooked him. Which was fair enough. Once upon a time Tommy would have felt the same way.

So in the end, they went together. Downstairs, hand in hand, past the dead policemen, and outside, where the chill in the air hit Tommy in the temples, soothed his tired eyes. He blinked away tears. He hadn't had the opportunity to enjoy any fresh air over the last couple of weeks. Wished he could lie down on the grass with Jordan, gaze at the stars, fill his lungs, sleep. Didn't ask for more than that.

But he couldn't. Not just yet.

"You okay?" he asked Jordan.

Jordan nodded.

When he thought about what these savages had put Jordan through, Tommy's stomach barrelled up into his throat and threatened to choke him. Yet another reason why he had to finish this.

They walked past Park's car towards the van, purple shadows bruising its pale body. No traffic noise from the road. No sound of police sirens. Peaceful.

Tommy opened the back door, climbed inside. There wasn't much space to get a foothold. Tommy slid on something and almost fell over. The floor was slick. Traced the wetness to Martin Milne. Seemed he was leaking. Tommy patted him down. He'd seen Milne smoking on the video. Sure enough, he had a lighter in his trouser pocket. Tommy stuck it in his own. Then located the petrol can. Illuminated, next to it, were three carrier bags. Tommy looked at the headless shrouds. Back at the carrier bags.

Three?

Had to check inside.

Two heads and a bag of hands. Tommy didn't need the hands.

***

BACK IN THE BEDROOM, Tommy screwed the cap off the petrol can. Went over to the bed, sloshed petrol all over the sheets. Moved round to Park. Doused him good and proper too.

Park spluttered, spat. Then realised where he was and what had happened to him. Maybe he even realised what was about to happen to him.

Tommy saved the last of the can for Effie.

"You'll be burning in Hell soon," he said to Park. "Might as well get you used to it."

***

PARK STANK OF petrol. The fumes were making him lightheaded. Or maybe it was the blood loss. Both, probably. Could feel the weight of the chain on his arm. He was still attached to the bed. No way out.

Had to maintain eye contact with Savage. Couldn't risk looking away. Didn't know where his eyes would take him.

Stinging. The fumes making them water. Having trouble seeing.

Then again, did he want to see this?

The madman was taking something out of a carrier bag. Something hairy. Something … oh, fuck.

Park looked away, tried to stay conscious. Fought against his body shutting down, his mind deciding it didn't want to see this.

***

TOMMY SAID, "YOU want to take Fraser out of your bag now, Jordan?"

"No."

"Go on. He wants to watch."

"He's dead, Dad."

"Look, Phil's watching." He was, too. His eyes were wide open."Dad?"

"Son?"

"Fraser doesn't want to watch."

Tommy wasn't sure he believed that. "Pass him to me," he said.

Jordan looked at the bag by his feet.

"Come on. He won't bite."

Jordan bent down slowly, picked it up. Scurried over to Tommy, dropped it at his feet, scurried away again.

"Thank you," Tommy said. "Wasn't so bad now, was it?" His arm felt numb. He didn't know if it could take the weight. He flexed his fingers. They seemed okay. Reached into the bag, grabbed a fistful of Fraser's hair. Eased him out. Fraser in one hand, Phil in the other. "So," he said to Fraser. "Your brother says you don't want to watch. Is that true?"

Fraser shook his head.

"You do want to watch?"

Fraser nodded. Phil nodded too.

"See?" Tommy said to Jordan. Then bent towards the heads. "What's that you say?" Paused. "You want me to put on a video?" He straightened up. "I know the very one."

He turned to Park, whose head was lowered. Might have passed out again, for all Tommy knew.

"Just give me a second," Tommy said to Fraser, placed him on the floor.

Tommy knelt in front of Park, lifted his head up. Park had his eyes shut, screwed tight, desperate not to see any of this. Tommy placed Phil in front of him, so their noses were inches apart.

"Hey," Tommy said. "Open your eyes."

Park blew his cheeks out, kept his eyes shut.

"Come on, you fuck," Tommy said. "Phil wants to say something to you."

Park's eyes stayed shut.

"If you don't open your eyes," Tommy said, "then Phil's going to have to give you a kiss."

Park shuddered.

"And I don't think you'll like that."

Park still wouldn't open his eyes.

"I don't think Phil would like that either, but you're not giving him much choice."

Park said, "Fuck you."

"Fair enough," Tommy said. "Here we go then."

Park's eyes sprang open. He saw Phil and started to gag.

Tommy pushed Phil's face into Park's, angling it so their lips would touch.

Park yelled. Tried to get his face out of the way.

Tommy copied his movements so Phil's face remained right in front of Park's.

Park moaned, his eyes fluttered, his head lolled to the side.

Looked like a genuine faint, but Tommy slapped him hard on the cheek just to make sure.

No reaction.

Tommy picked Fraser up, crossed the room, set down Phil and Fraser next to the laptop and beckoned Jordan over.

"Right," Tommy said to his family. "It's about time we got this done, boys."

"No," Grant said.

"You shut your mouth," Tommy said. "You're fucking dead."

***

AS MUCH AS Effie knew she had to lie here quietly, not moving a muscle, breathing as shallowly as possible, awaiting an opportunity, something inside her wanted to cry out that she was still alive. And she didn't quite trust herself not to.

Taste of petrol on her lips. Burning pain in her chest. Felt like her whole left side was swollen. Had to keep her eyes shut, her mouth shut. Couldn't cry out. Mustn't cry out. Breathed through her nose. Couldn't keep it up much longer, though. The fumes were getting to her.

She'd been awake long enough to hear Savage taunt Dad. Didn't dare open her eyes to see what he was doing. But she'd heard enough to know that he'd removed the heads from the van and was talking to them. Loony fucking tunes. He'd snapped.

Effie tightened her grip on the handle of the sword. She could do this. Dad was counting on her. Mum was counting on her.

***

"LOOK AWAY," TOMMY said to Jordan.

Jordan looked away.

Tommy dug out Milne's lighter, moved over to the prostrate figures on the floor. Wondered if they'd go up with a whoosh. He'd light Park first.

As he was bending over, he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. Then, a punch in his gut.

A white-hot pain, all the way from his stomach to his back.

Effie was sitting up, panting, arm outstretched towards him.

He looked down, saw the handle of the
katana
. Most of the blade had disappeared. The thing was inside him.

Steel. In his gut. Maybe he was imagining it. Maybe he'd throw up and the pain would go.

No, a fire raged in his belly like none before. And he couldn't cough this one out of him.

He couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. He could hardly think.

Grant was laughing again.

Tommy knew he couldn't let Effie get away. Had to take her out. Properly this time. Save Jordan.

Yeah, that's all he'd wanted to do and he was going to see it through.

He flicked on the lighter and fell on top of Park.

***

EFFIE ROLLED OUT of the way just in time. The flames moved quickly. Already flicking all over her dad, red and orange tongues, butterfly kissing him. Savage was yelling. The flames had found him too. At least Dad was unconscious.

She struggled to her feet, ran around the burning bodies, ignoring the pain from her chest wound, thinking only that she had to find water to douse the flames. There was a bathroom downstairs. She'd have to get down there, find something to carry the water in. Fill it. Bring it back.

Savage screamed. Rolled onto his back, limbs jerking. Yellow flames spread across his sweatshirt.

She didn't have time to fetch water.

Blanket. She could wrap him in a blanket. But there was only one blanket and it was already on fire. All the time, the flames were getting bigger. Smoke now. Getting thicker by the second. The quilt on the bed had caught too.

She stepped back from the heat, coughing. Vicious smell of burning fabric, or maybe hair.