The Left Series (Book 4): Left In The Cold (29 page)

“And that’s the whole point,” Alex said, staring straight at me. “Maddie is showing the same behavior with you as she did with Freddie. So don’t expect to leave this place in one piece, any time soon.”

Chapter Forty-One

I stood rigid on the spot, trying to comprehend and absorb what the hell Alex and Chloe were telling me. I felt light headed, giddy and sick. Was Maddie capable of mass murder? One thing bothered me and Batfish asked the question before I could move my mouth to speak.

“So you’re saying it wasn’t Rory who killed Gera, it was
Maddie?” she asked.

Alex nodded. “You got the wrong guy.”

“But hold up,” Batfish said, lifting her palm and shaking her head. “Why would she kill Gera? He was with me. He didn’t have anything to do with Brett.”

“Cordoba’s your girlfriend, right?” Alex asked me.

I nodded. “Yeah, kind of,” I muttered. “We’re nothing serious but we do have a relationship.”

Alex returned my nod. “
Maddie picked up on that. She obviously knew it.”

“So what did that have to do with Gera?” I asked, flapping my arms in a shrug.

“When we showed you to your rooms last night, Gera took the room next to you,” Chloe said. “Alex, Maddie and I saw you all go into your rooms.”

Realization dawned on me like a smack in the face. “Gera swapped rooms with Cordoba,” I gasped. “It wasn’t Gera she was going after but Cordoba. She was going to draw her outside somehow and shove her through that open gate.” I shivered, almost uncontrollably.

“But why did she have to kill him?” Batfish whined.

“Anger, frustration, who knows,” Alex sighed. “She wanted to vent her rage on somebody. She probably knocked on Gera’s door
, expecting Cordoba to answer, with the plan to lock her outside of the open gate. When Maddie realized Gera and Cordoba had swapped rooms, she probably told him she’d heard a suspicious noise or seen a rat or something in the washroom. He goes down there to investigate, she follows him in and…well, you know the rest.”

That was Gera all right, always ready to help out. He died trying to help somebody, who he didn’t realize was duping him.

“How do you tolerate living like this?” Batfish scolded. “Why do you let her get away with all these god-awful things she’s done?”

Alex and Chloe looked uncomfortable and shuffled around, glancing at each other.

“Everybody else thinks she’s great,” Alex groaned. “Nobody would believe us. Only Joan also knows the truth. We told her.”

“Joan’s dead, Alex,” Chloe whispered.

“What?” he roared.

“Rory went berserk and killed her with an axe,” Jimmy chipped in. “Split her
feckin’ head right in two, so he did. The big mallet head.”

Alex’s eyes widened and he clasped his free hand across his mouth
then brushed back his hair. “Fuck’s sake,” he spat. “This situation is getting way out of hand.” His earlier bravado had ebbed away completely. He now was the definitive image of a worried man. 

“I’ve been thinking that for a while now,” I muttered.

“Look, we need to grab our gear and get the hell out of here,” Batfish said. “You can come with us or stay here with that psychopath woman, it’s up to you.”

I had reservations about Chloe and Jimmy coming with us but I certainly didn’t want Alex tagging along. The guy was completely unpredictable and I had a suspicion he still
cared for Maddie, deep down. I guessed he didn’t do anything about her behavior because he still harbored passionate feelings for her and couldn’t bring himself to put an end to her murderous shenanigans.

Alex shook his head. “Ah, I don’t know. What about Davie and Mo and
Mrs McMahon? I couldn’t just run out on them. Those two guys are almost brain dead, you know? They wouldn’t last long on their own.”

I sighed loudly, feeling totally exhausted and exasperated. I didn’t give a crap about Davie and Mo or
Mrs fucking McMahon. We couldn’t leave unless Smith’s condition had miraculously improved and it wouldn’t be a great idea to flee in darkness with a whole bunch of zombies waiting for us outside. Whichever way we looked at it, we were trapped in the castle, for the time being.

“We better go and check on Smith, anyhow,” I said. “You do what you want, Alex.”

I brushed by him and began to clamber up the staircase, briefly considering Alex might pull his shotgun on me and demand I accompany him to a dark cellar or some equally horrible place. My hand hovered over my handgun holster, just in case. He didn’t administer threats of any kind and the other three followed me up the steps. Alex briefly hung around the hallway before rushing off into the gloom.

My mind turned over as I climbed the steps. I was shocked to the core at Alex and Chloe’s tales concerning
Maddie. I turned to glance at Batfish and saw her face was ashen white with shock. She needed time to rest and let all the recent events sink in.

I rapped on Smith’s bedroom door when we reached the landing, hoping the others were still alive and kicking inside.

“Hello, it’s me, Brett,” I hollered.

I heard the rattle of the key in the lock and Cordoba opened the door
, with her M-9 handgun raised at head height. She lowered the weapon, glanced at each of us in turn and her face dropped as she saw our depressed and haggard expressions.

“What the hell is up with you guys?” she asked.

“You don’t want to know,” I groaned and shuffled through the doorway.

Batfish, Chloe and Jimmy followed me into the room. Jimmy looked
slightly nervous as Cordoba stared at him closely. Smith lay on his back in the bed with Wingate perched beside him on the corner of the mattress. I was glad to see some color had returned to his face and he looked a whole lot better. I slumped to the floor and sat with my back to the wall. Wingate glanced at me and flashed a brief, false smile.

“So…?” Cordoba
inquired, after locking the door. “What’s happened? Did you find Gera?”

Batfish burst into tears and rested her forehead on Cordoba’s shoulder. Cordoba hugged her as Batfish let out her emotions in heaving
, wailing sobs. Wingate and Cordoba exchanged worried glances before both of them looked straight at me, expecting an explanation.

“Ah, Christ,” I croaked. My throat was dry and I was tired. Now I was going to have to recount everything we’d seen, heard and done over the last few hours. “This is Jimmy,” I said, pointing to the skinny young kid, who stood next to Chloe in the corner of the room. I introduced him to Wingate and Cordoba and told him who Smith was and what had happened to him.

After briefly updating Jimmy on our current situation and introducing him, I launched into the long account of what had happened to Gera, the subsequent aftermath and the revelations spilled by Alex and Chloe. Naturally, Wingate and Cordoba were both visibly shocked and appalled at the events.

“Anyhow, Smith’s looking better,” I croaked.
“Any water? My throat is as dry as Death Valley.”

“Yeah, I’ve given Smith some activated charcoal tablets,” Wingate explained. “Lucky I still had a couple of jars. They help absorb the toxins in his body.” A slight expression of embarrassment flashed over her face. “I use them to suck up bodily gas,” she admitted. “The tablets soak up the poison and he’ll hopefully be up and around real soon.”

“That’s good,” I said. “What about the water?”

Wingate sighed. “We haven’t got much
left, Brett and I could do with some more for Smith. It seems those guys who took the rifles also took most of our water bottles.”

“
That’s great,” I sighed.

Wingate looked at me expectantly with her eyebrows raised. Cordoba also shared the same expression as Batfish still cried and sniveled, resting on her shoulder.

“What? I don’t get it,” I said.

“We need some more water, Brett,” Cordoba repeated.

The penny dropped. “Oh, you want me to go fetch some more, uh?” The last thing I wanted to do was go back out into the castle and snoop around but my friend needed fluids and I gagged for a drink of some kind.

“All right, I’ll go,” I groaned, hauling myself to my feet.
“I’ll get some water from the bathroom down the hall.”

“Already tried,” Cordoba huffed. “The toilet flushes but the sink faucets don’t work, you’ll have to try someplace else.”

I emitted a pained, groaning sigh and looked at Chloe. “Where’s the nearest operational water faucet from here?”

Chloe thought for a moment.
“Probably in the kitchen. I remember Alex said the taps in that bathroom were leaking and he was going to fix them but obviously didn’t get around to it. Look, I’ll come with you to the kitchen, if you like.”

“Me too,” Jimmy piped up.
“Safety in numbers and all that malarkey.”

They both understandably felt a little uncomfortable in the room with Batfish wailing in grief like a banshee and Wingate tending to a sweaty, poisoned Smith.

“All right, whatever,” I sighed. “Have we got a water container?”

“There are loads of big five liter bottles down in the kitchen,” Chloe said. “We can grab a couple of those. I’m sure you and Jimmy can manage to carry one each.”

“Och, aye, nay bother,” Jimmy said.

“Excuse me?” Wingate asked Jimmy.

“I think he meant
yes
,” I explained. Wingate clearly was having trouble deciphering the Glaswegian dialect. “Can either of you two handle a firearm?” I asked, knowing the answer before they replied.

Chloe shook her head but Jimmy’s face lit up.

“Aye, I’ve never used one before but I’m sure I can handle it.”

“No, Jimmy,” Chloe scolded. “You’ll end up killing yourself.”

Jimmy looked disappointed but I agreed it wasn’t a good idea letting him loose with a loaded weapon. Smith or Cordoba would have to train him up at a later time, if he was going to join our ranks.  I remembered how terrible I’d been when first using a firearm back in Brynston. Smith had found my appalling weapon handling skills a huge source of amusement back then.  

“Well, find something to arm yourselves with, just in case,” I instructed, checking my own M-9.

Wingate handed Jimmy Smith’s U.S. Military issue, Ka-Bar sheathed knife. “You be damn careful with that thing,” she warned.

Jimmy’s eyes lit up as he studied the weapon’s blade. Chloe searched around the room and picked up a short, cast iron poker from the fireplace.
We were all set.

“Okay, let’s go,” I said, moving towards the doorway.

Cordoba muttered something to Batfish and pulled away from their embrace. I caught sight of poor Batfish’s tear streaked face and felt incredibly sorry for her. She’d lost somebody that she’d finally grown close to after all this time running and I guessed she’d felt reasonably safe with Gera at her side. I tried to swallow away the sorrowful lump in my throat. Not only did I feel bad for the loss of Gera but I also felt the pain of Batfish’s suffering.

Cordoba unlocked and opened the door to let us out.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” I muttered to her, while shuffling through the entrance. She nodded as Chloe and Jimmy followed me out into the landing.

I held the M-9 at the ready as we descended the staircase, feeling the tension rack up with every step I took.

Chapter Forty-Two

I remembered the route to the kitchen, lighting the way with my flashlight and we didn’t encounter anybody else in the passageways or in the Great Hall.

“So far, so good,” I whispered to Chloe, as we ascended the staircase to the dining area.
I didn’t know if the other castle dwellers would be hostile towards us but I couldn’t take the risk. We had to be thoroughly on our guard.

The dining area was deserted but the table was littered with a few dirty plates, leftover trays of food and empty wine glasses and bottles, some of which were tipped over on their sides.
Red wine pooled from the bottles and glasses, staining the crisp, white table cloth. It seemed unusual to see the table in such a mess. The fire was dying low and the candles burned nearly to their bases. The whole room looked as though nobody had bothered house-keeping it for a while.

We trod slowly and cautiously towards the kitchen. I led the way with my M-9 held in front of me and the flashlight alongside the gun barrel.
The kitchen was in complete darkness as I bumped through the door. I shone the flashlight around the room and the beam reflected off the stainless steel countertops and cooker hoods.