Nothing but Meat: A dark, heart-stopping British crime thriller Page 25

  She struggled to focus but managed to recognise his outstretched, bloodied hand was only inches from her face and was just in time to see him snatch at her. He grabbed a handful of her hair and started to pull her towards him. She was defenceless and struggled to keep her arms in place, knowing that any movement would cause whatever blood remained in her body to drain into the dirt.

  He let go of her hair and she felt his hand slide across her face and onto her chest. At first she couldn’t understand what he was doing when he touched her breast but then she realised he was going for the knife that was still clutched in her hand. If he pulled at it he would tear her arms away from her stomach and open her wounds.

  She held on as tightly as she could while his fingers probed her arms, trying to locate the knife. His fingers pushed through the crusts and the jelly of congealed matter as they searched for the knife and she could hear his breathing; heavy and desperate but she could also hear more sounds that were harder to locate.

  Death was staring her in the face but the sounds were becoming more distinct now and she could identify it as movement from somewhere inside the tunnels.

  She heard shouting and the thunder of many feet but the sounds were distant and confusing.

  His probing fingers were becoming more desperate now but room was filling with shadows and movement and she knew they were here.

  She felt his hand pulled away and heard the distant ratchet of handcuffs snapping shut.

  Help was here and the thought of being safe and warm was so comforting Simone finally began to slip away, her eyelids fluttered and the misting darkness began to swallow her. She felt like she was sliding into a vast cold ocean and was sure she heard Nathan say, ‘Stay with me Simone. Stay with me.’

  A hand softly lifted the back of her head and she could feel the warmth of the touch though her hair. ‘Simone, it’s Nathan, you’re going to be okay just hang in there.’

  Nathan. He’s here, she thought, and he’ll be with me at the end. A feeling of relief washed over her, not because she believed she was now safe but because she was no longer alone. She had been hanging on for so long but the efforts to stay awake and to stay alive had used every reserve she had and now Nathan was here it was time to let go.

  ‘Stay with me,’ he repeated.

  ‘I’d love to,’ she replied but as she sank further away from him she wasn’t sure if she had actually spoken the words or simply imagined them.

  34

  Simone’s body pulsed with pain. And the pulse was accompanied by a repeated bleep.

  Bleep – bleep – bleep –

  It was dark and she listened to the bleeping noise and felt the pulse of pain over and over. They came in perfect unison and it was a sensation to behold.

  Bleep – bleep – bleep -

  She lay in the sanctuary of darkness and it felt safe and warm but that pulse of pain was disturbing her peace. She tried to ignore it but it stayed with her, twinned with her heartbeat – connected somehow. Every heartbeat was accompanied by that single pulse of pain and every pulse of pain was accompanied by a rhythmic bleep.

  Bleep – bleep – bleep -

  She concentrated on it and used the pulse like sonar to map her body in the darkness. Emitting from her chest and out to her extremities in throbbing waves she used the pulse as tool for sensory exploration to feel her hands, her arms, her legs, her torso and face. As she assessed the differing degrees of pain emanating from her many injuries a realisation reared from the murky depths of confusion. If she could feel pain she must be alive. Alive!

  Bleep – bleep – bleep –

  She swallowed and felt something smooth in the back of her throat.

  Bleep – bleep – bleep -

  When her eyes opened it wasn’t a conscious decision, and as her eyelids pulled apart she could feel gummy matter separating and she was confronted with nothing but blurry whiteness. She blinked her sticky lids and her vision slowly began to clear. There were tubes everywhere and they were all coming out of her.

  Bleep – bleep – bleep -

  She wanted to rub her eyes but when she tried to move her arms she could only lift them into her line of sight and she could see that they were wrapped in bandages as thick as oven gloves.

  Her movement caused a nearby shadow to move and come quickly towards her. When it came into focus she saw it was Nathan. He snatched at something close by and clicked it repeatedly. His face came into view and he looked down at her like an angel. He kissed her forehead so gently she barely felt it. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘You’re going to be okay Sim. You’re going to be okay.’

  Then there was movement from the other side of the room and activity all around her. People were asking questions, they sounded kind and yet strangely serious but she felt sleepy and struggled to answer. She tried to stay awake but it was futile, she was safe now and she allowed herself to drift away from the reassuring bleep, the pulse of pain, and the image of the only man she ever truly loved.

  She liked it when he called her Sim.

  Walk Through Fire:

  Part 4

  Driving Lessons - 1992

  Nathan watched the lad come out of the house and hurriedly fix the magnetic L-plates into position on the family car before darting back inside.

  Nathan was breaking the rules; rules laid down by Martin outside the church just under a year ago. When Nathan thought about it, it reminded him of a scene from a western - This town ain't big enough for the both of us ol' hoss. Nathan had done as he was told and kept away but now he was back. He just needed to see something and then he would be on his way.

  Nathan sat in his beaten up, mark one Ford Fiesta, his first car and one he’d picked up for less than five hundred quid. He was a good distance from the house and he sipped from a can of Coke while he waited for the lad to reappear. Nathan guessed the boy was a couple of years younger than himself and when he came back out he was followed by his mother who looked the car over while he paced up and down the driveway with the typical impatience of a teenager waiting for a driving lesson.

  When the front door opened again Nathan saw what he was really waiting for. The man called to his son and tossed him the car keys and in the blink of an eye, the lad snatched them from the air and let himself into the driver’s side of the car and started the engine. His mother shouted a word of warning to him and told him to wait. She went to the man at the door and kissed him. He put his free hand around her waist, the other held tightly to the walking stick that held his weight. She said goodbye to the man of the house. Husband, father and ex-fireman, survivor of the fire at Home Farm that left him in a six-week coma fighting for his life in hospital.

  Nathan had followed the fire fighter’s progress from afar waiting for the news that he was out of the coma and on the road to recovery. He was hailed as a local hero and following his progress wasn't too hard, even from miles away. The fire-fighter was called Barry Smith and his recovery had become more of a story than the fire itself. This was of course bad news for Nathan as the more high profile the case the greater the pressure became to catch the deviant that committed the crime.

  To see Barry Smith, alive and well and with his family brought a lump to Nathan’s throat, and as he watched the man he nearly killed wave goodbye to his wife and son Nathan felt guilt and relief in equal measure. Barry watched them drive away and limped inside the house.

  Nathan started the engine. He had seen what he came for and now it was time to leave but there was one more thing to do. It was small and pointless but he couldn't help himself. He drove past Simone's house just to see if he could catch a glimpse of her leaving the house or standing in the window, but of course she wasn't there and all he saw as he slowly passed was just bricks and mortar.

  35

  The rubber tip of her walking stick pressed into the silky cover of damp brown leaves that covered the ground as she slowly and carefully made her way along the gravel path. Simone sucked the cold winter air deeply into her lungs and enjoyed
the cooling sensation she felt in her chest. She stood as upright as her body would allow but was still mindful of her footing on the uneven ground.

  When her wounds had healed sufficiently she had begun the slow and painful process of building her strength and the countless hours spent in physiotherapy after leaving the hospital had finally paid off. She had eventually progressed from wheelchair to walking stick as her strength returned. Using it made her feel like an old lady but that was something she was going to have to get used to because she was stuck with it for the rest of her life. Her body had become a hideous tapestry of scar tissue and missing digits, her insides were wrecked but she was alive and that feeling of cold, damp air in her lungs reminded her that being alive was all that mattered.

  When he told her he wanted to meet at St Mary’s church she had to ask where it was as it meant nothing to her. It turned out he meant the church in the village where they used to live when they were kids. Even then it seemed like a strange place to want to meet but then Martin was a strange man. Always had been. She could admit that now.

  He was already there, sitting on the bench opposite the church, wrapped in a thick coat. He heard her clumsy approach and turned to watch as she hobbled towards him.

  She held her head upright and tried to walk with as much dignity as she could manage but it was hard work, she had become quite adept at using the walking stick but she still struggled to walk for any length of time and was visibly out of breath when she sat down next to him.

  ‘You look well,’ he said.

  ‘I’m in one piece.’

  ‘Only just.’

  ‘Why did you want to meet here?’

  ‘It seemed appropriate,’ he replied as if that were answer enough.

  She sighed, her patience wearing thin. ‘There’s no need to be cryptic Martin.’

  He drew a breath and began the mind games. ‘Are you worried he doesn’t love you,’ he said; ‘that he’ll leave again?’

  She was silent.

  He continued. ‘Are you worried that the scars will put him off? What if he wants kids? I shouldn’t think there’s much chance of that happening now that you’ve lost most of your innards.’

  He knew how to hurt her with words as well as fists and within a matter of seconds and with perfect precision he had managed to vocalise most of the anxieties that had piled up and begun to creep through her system after the attack. His words stabbed at her like Victor James’ knife but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of hurting her anymore.

  ‘Is that why you wanted to see me; so you could hurt me again, for old time’s sake? If that’s the case then I’m going to leave Martin.’

  ‘I have more to say and you will want to hear it.’

  ‘Well spit it out then.’

  ‘This is where I told Smokey to leave town. He was sitting where you are now. It was nineteen-ninety; the year before Laura disappeared, it’s such a long time ago now. Do you ever think about her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘What do you mean you told him to leave town?’ she said.

  ‘He still hasn’t told you. What an obedient little doggy he is.’ Martin reached into his coat and pulled out a Dictaphone. ‘I’m sure Smokey will fill you in on details of our evening together but until then this is one of the highlights.’ He held the machine between then and pressed play. ‘Remember that barn he burnt down? Listen.’

  West’s voice - So what if I’ve got the same lighter as the one found at the crime scene? It doesn’t mean anything. It definitely doesn’t mean I did it.

  -But you did do it didn’t you? said Martin.

  Silence. Nothing but tape hiss.

  -Didn’t you? Martin repeated louder this time and no sooner had Simone realised Martin was trying to force Nathan into making a confession it happened, one word floated from the tinny speaker in Martin’s hand and it was enough to condemn the man she loved.

  -Yes, said West.

  -Exactly. And if you were innocent and it went to court and your lighter-

  Martin stopped the recording and slid the Dictaphone back into his pocket.

  ‘I have all I need,’ said Simone quoting from memory. ‘The note in the box of bacon that came to the station -’

  He cut her off. ‘Smokey bacon,’ he said with a childlike glint in his eye, as if he was the cleverest person in the world.

  ‘The empty cassette case with Damning Evidence printed on the spine, and the note that said-’

  ‘I have all I need. Pig.’

  ‘That was you?’

  ‘You better get used to the idea that your boyfriend’s career is over and he’ll probably go down for it too. How the mighty fall. From hero to zero just like that.’ He snapped his fingers.

  ‘Please don’t.’

  ‘He thinks he can swan back into town, get the bad guy, save the day and get the girl too. He thinks he can have it all. But he can’t.’

  Simone was quiet for a time. ‘We would have split up eventually,’ she said. ‘It was only a matter of time; you repeatedly beat the shit out of me Martin. You kept me with you through fear and you know it.’

  ‘Blah blah blah.’

  ‘Stop being a wanker for five minutes and listen. You need to look in the mirror and think about what you did to me. How could you not have realised that I fell out of love with you more and more with every punch you landed. Neither one of us was happy because our relationship was vile and toxic.’

  ‘You could have left me for anyone but you had to leave me for him didn’t you? I knew it would happen as soon as I found out he was back. It eats me up inside just thinking about it.’

  ‘Don’t let it. Move on with your life, you’ll meet someone else. Just treat her right.’

  ‘Don’t get smug.’

  ‘I’m not being smug. I nearly died Martin and there’s no bigger wake-up call than that. There wasn’t a tunnel of light and my life didn’t flash before my eyes. I was bleeding to death and it was slow and painful and frightening; more frightening than you could ever imagine. Our marriage was already in tatters and I was going to leave you anyway. Nearly dying just reinforced the idea that we only get one life and it shouldn’t be spent in misery.

  ‘One day you’ll look back on our marriage and you’ll admit I was right.’ She stood up and balanced herself on her walking stick and as she did, she had a sudden, split second vision of Martin kicking it away from her but he just looked at her with tears in his eyes. ‘So do what you want with that tape Martin,’ she said. ‘What will be will be.’ She began to leave.

  ‘Wait,’ he said. She turned to him. ‘I still love you.’

  ‘You don’t, you just can’t imagine not being with me.’

  He sighed and his shoulders slumped. He spoke without looking at her, ‘I’m sorry for how things turned out between us and I'm sorry for not coming to the hospital straight away. It's just that I knew Smokey would be there.’

  ‘You weren’t missed.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  He looked her up and down as she stooped over him. ‘Are you going back to work?’

  ‘They’ve offered me a desk job but I might just pack it in, this is a new chapter in my life and I’ve always wanted the opportunity to study photography, so if anything good can come of this,’ she motioned to the scars on her forehead and to the walking stick, ‘then the chance to do something I’ve always wanted to do could be it.’

  ‘That nut job really did a number on you didn’t he?’

  ‘The scars will fade in time, but I’ll never walk properly again. This is as good as it’s going to get from now on.’

  ‘Well, for what it’s worth,’ he said with no trace of his usual sarcasm or malice, ‘I hope you can dance at your wedding.’

  ‘That maybe the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.’

  ‘I guess that says it all doesn’t it?’ he said with a croak in his voice. He flicked the cassette out of
the Dictaphone and handed it to her. ‘Don’t hate me Simone.’

  ‘Take care of yourself Martin,’ she said and left him alone on the bench without looking back.

  Thank you for reading Nothing but Meat

  Feel free to contact me at:

  theauthor@adriankendrew.com

  All comments and abuse welcome.

  Until next time…

  Adrian Kendrew

  August 2014