Chris Simms - Killing the Beasts

Her eyes widened as the memory came back. 'Don't tell me I've won.'

Tom gave her his widest smile. 'You most certainly have.'

'Oh my God, I'm going to Malaysia? I always thought no one actually won those things. I can't believe this!'

'Well, we're legally obliged to check you have a valid passport before the prize can be officially awarded… '

She stepped aside and waved him inside the house.

'I don't want to stop you from going anywhere.'

'No, that's fine, I have Wednesdays off.' She clapped her hands in excitement. 'I can't believe this,' she repeated, directing him into the front room, one hand fluttering at her throat.

'OK,' said Tom, sitting down and placing the briefcase on the floor to the side of the armchair.

Polly sat down on the sofa, elbows on her knees, leaning forwards expectantly. Without saying anything, Tom removed a pack of Xtreme gum from his jacket, grasped the little tab on its side and opened it up. He slid out the uppermost stick of the seven inside the pack and said to her with an official note in his voice, 'On behalf of X-treme Incorporated, may I offer our congratulations?'

Leaning forward on the sofa, she gratefully accepted the stick of gum, unwrapped it and then folded it into her mouth. 'Thanks,' she said breathlessly, looking expectantly at her visitor and eagerly chewing.

'My pleasure, 'Tom replied. They continued looking at each other for a moment longer. 'Now, if you could just get…'

'Oh God, yes, sorry! It's upstairs. 'She jumped to her feet. 'I'm all excited. Sorry.'

He smiled. 'No problem.'

She almost skipped across the room, then ran up the stairs. While she was gone Tom stood up, walked over to her living room window and checked the street outside. By the time she returned he was sitting down once again.

'Here,' she said, handing him her passport.

'Great,' he replied. Although her neck was beginning to show up slight patches of red, Tom knew he needed more time before the drug took full control. As he reached for his pen he paused, then looked up with a slightly embarrassed expression. Coughing as if his throat was dry, he said, 'Do you mind if I have a cup of tea before we get started?'

'Oh!' She jumped up again, pale pink dressing gown falling slightly open to reveal a flash of upper thigh. 'I'm so rude. Sorry. Milk? Sugar?'

'Milk and two sugars, thanks.'

Flustered, she paced quickly down the short corridor to the kitchen. He listened to the sound of her bare feet slapping against the lino then heard crockery being shifted around in a sink. A tap was turned on followed by the sound of a kettle heating up.

He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. The voices whispered reassuring encouragement. He felt so proud — for himself and Polly. Of course she didn't know it, but her life had been given a far higher purpose. She was helping to usher in the Golden Age. It was a sacrifice anyone should be glad to make.

When she walked back into the room a few minutes later a red flush covered her throat and cheeks.

'Here you go.' She placed a mug decorated with a cartoon style snail on the coffee table before him.

Tom could see she was now chewing furiously on the gum. She went to sit down again but, on impulse, veered towards the hi-fi system in the corner and turned up the music.

'God, I feel like I could dance,' she said urgently, blowing her breath out and running her fingers through her hair. 'Is it hot in here? Are you hot?' He could hear a mixture of euphoria and confusion in her voice.

Tom looked around the room as if heat was a visible thing. 'No,' he replied with a little shake of his head.

'I feel hot,' she said, placing her mug on the table. She started waving one hand a little too energetically at her cheek and pulling distractedly at the neck of her dressing gown. Tom kept his head lowered, pretending to search for a pen in his jacket pocket.

She went to sit down, stumbling against the leg of the coffee table. 'Whoops!' she said with a strange giggle, though panic was beginning to show in her eyes. 'I… I'm dizzy.'

Now visibly distressed, she attempted a half turn to sit down, but her coordination was going and she missed the sofa, crashing onto the carpet. As she lay on her back, her eyes rolled up into her head and then closed completely.

Tom lifted up the briefcase and placed it on the coffee table. He dialled the combination for the lock and opened it up. From inside he took out the large stainless steel pincers and a plastic bag. He opened the bag up on the floor in case he was sick, then pulled Polly's lower jaw down. There at the back of her mouth was the lump of chewing gum. Seeing the little bubbles of saliva clinging to it, Tom experienced his first retch.

Carefully, he inserted the pincers into her mouth and picked the lump out. Keeping his head turned away, he dropped it into the bag, twisted the neck and knotted it. As he replaced the pincers, the voices began to speak. Put her in position so she can welcome in the Golden Age.

Dutifully, Tom stretched her arms out at her sides, then tilted her head back to ensure her airways were fully open.

Turning round, he then lifted the silicon gun out of his briefcase. Seeing the workmen applying the white gel round the edges of his bath those months before had made him retreat back down the corridor in disgust. The stuff had dried into something rubbery, and though it hadn't actually been in anyone's mouth, its presence in the corner of the bathroom was a continual source of discomfort to him.

Now he lifted the gun up, the tube of silicon gel mounted in the heavy metal frame. The thought of the tube's contents sent waves of nausea through him but, knowing how important his actions were, he inserted the tapered end of the tube deep into her open mouth. Grasping the solid metal plunger piece in one hand, he then pushed half a pint of thick white gel down the back of her throat.

Even though she was heavily sedated, her chest heaved and the tendons at the side of her throat flexed as she started to choke. But he pressed the plunger harder, sending a snake of it coiling into her windpipe where it quickly formed an immovable plug.

Her torso jerked and rocked as her lungs fought to drag in air. But the substance was too stubborn to be shifted and after a few more seconds her movements slowed and then stopped.

Tom got up and dropped the gun back into his briefcase. He looked around him and picked her passport off the table. After locking up his briefcase he carried their cups through to the kitchen and tipped the tea down the sink. Once he had sluiced them out with water, he placed them on the draining board and walked out of the flat.

5 November 2002

The incident room was silent as everyone waited for the two search teams to report back. Jon sat at his desk, furious that McCloughlin had excluded him from both.

The leader of the team sent to the house of Sly's grandma phoned at ten past eleven. The call was quickly patched through to McCloughlin and people tried not to watch as he listened to the message.

'Fuck!' The phone was slammed down and McCloughlin stepped out of his office. 'They've been through the whole house. Nothing that links him to any of the victims.'

'How about the attic? Did they search the roof cavity?' someone asked.

'Of course they fucking searched the roof cavity! They ripped her whole house apart!' His door slammed shut.

Half an hour later the team sent to the house of Sly's mum called. Again McCloughlin's face darkened with every second he was on the phone. This time he carefully replaced the handset and opened his office door with a bowed head. 'Nothing again.' He looked up and searched out Jon with an accusatory stare. 'Not a fucking scrap.'