Peter Grist - Flashback

The gap between the two men was only about a hundred yards but in a forest area that was more than enough for Ed to avoid being seen. Defying his heavy build, his army training from years ago and his martial arts gave him a lightness of foot. He remembered to place the outside of his feet gently down before rolling the whole of his body weight onto the limb, avoiding unnecessary noise and snapping fallen branches. The wildlife gave off a noisy cover of its own; crickets chirped away rhythmically, accompanied by unidentified night birds and the scurrying of small mammals. Only once did he make a dead branch snap underfoot. He froze and watched his prey; the man ahead paused, turned his head to listen then seemingly satisfied that it was animal noises, continued on. As the land became steeper Ed realised that they were almost at the destination, the small clearing with the fallen trees. With the guy in front carrying the heavy sack, he closed the gap easily and was only thirty yards behind the assailant when he reached the clearing. Still with his back to Ed, the guy unceremoniously dropped the sack then rubbed his shoulder free of aches. He knelt down beside the sack and untied the thin rope holding it closed. Moonlight illuminated the area like a stage set; Ed could see that the man was tall and lean but well-built with broad shoulders. The red check lumberjack-style shirt was the same, tucked into dark jeans. The clothes were hard-working but well-worn and faded. The only item that seemed to conspicuously stick out in its newness was the shiny black belt that held up the jeans and had metal loops and a utility pocket. When the man came back up he was holding a wooden-handled spade. The ground was soft and boggy underfoot and took little effort to disturb with the blade of the tool. Working just a few feet in front of the sack the man began to dig. Ed wasn’t sure if he could watch this any longer, what he wanted to do was jump on his back and rip the guy’s head off then bury him, then take the girl home to her folks. But he and Linda had come up with a game plan that would hopefully catch the guy in the future. The future, now?! But this felt like now, this was no dream, this was real. His head almost ached with the confusion. “To hell with it,” he thought, “I can’t watch this happen”. He stepped out from behind the large pine he had been hiding behind and stepped out towards the man just as the killer threw down the spade and turned to pick up the sack. Ed froze in shock; he knew who it was! The guy was in perfect silhouette; the chiselled jawline and skull-like head made the man instantly recognisable. But more than that, the man’s actions had drawn Ed’s eyes to the sack again as something rolled out. Ed’s shock was complete, the ebony arm that he had expected to fall out was not an arm or even ebony, it was a head, the head of a blonde-haired white child.

Ed’s eyes opened suddenly, staring straight ahead. “Oh my God! You scared me half to death!” exclaimed Linda as she shrank back away from Ed. “Are you okay?”

Ed stared out the front screen at the now empty landscape. They were now just the other side of the train crossing, looking into the darkness of open country. “Ed, talk to me, are you okay?” she repeated. Slowly he turned towards her voice, but still not seeing her, his mind still back in the past.

“It wasn’t her” he mumbled.

“What? What do you mean it wasn’t her, wasn’t who?”

“It wasn’t her Linda, it wasn’t Gracie.” He said softly. “I saw him, the killer, I saw him drive into the hills with the body, I followed him. He dug a shallow grave, but it wasn’t Grace Benjamin, it was someone else, a white girl, the waitress was right, there’s more than one!”

“Oh no, please God no, not more of them!”

“It gets worse” he hesitated, “I don’t know if I should tell you or not but if we find them I guess you’ll know sooner or later.”

“Know what Ed? How can it be any worse for Christ sake?”

For the first time since coming round he looked into Linda’s big brown eyes. Reluctantly he said “I saw the girls head, long blonde hair, it had pigtails and ribbons… but, but that was all, it was just a head. He’d cut it off Linda, she’d been decapitated!”

She leaned across the centre consul and embraced him, pulling him towards her. He was thankful as she wouldn’t see the tears rolling down his cheeks. He put his arms around her as best as the Jeep would allow, he could feel her sobbing quietly too. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried, maybe when his mom had died many years ago, maybe not since the war. They sat like that for what seemed like forever, until the pain in their hearts subsided enough so that they could think straight again. Eventually, they pulled apart but held hands across the centre of the 4X4. Her dark skin contrasted with his lighter tan. Ed looked down, he thought they looked and felt good together. She did the same, gaining strength from the contact. Finally, she spoke.

“What are we going to do now, is there any point in going up there?” she asked.

“Yes!” he replied, “I want to see if I can find the place again while it’s still fresh in my head. We need to know where they are so we can bring them back. I also need to know I am not going crazy, but the main thing is we need to lead him back to the bodies, it’s the only way to prove it was him.”

“Okay, let’s go find them.”

She put her hand on the key in the ignition but didn’t turn it.

“Who was it Ed, you saw who the killer was didn’t you. Did you recognise him?”

He nodded slowly.

“Who?”

He told her the name of the killer.

“Oh!” she said. There wasn’t much surprise in her voice. After a moment, she steeled herself, said: “Right then.”

She turned the key, selected drive and headed towards the hills.

The orangey-yellow Toyota pick-up crawled slowly past the entrance to the farm, the driver shadowed in the darkness of the cab. The headlights were off but he could see where he was heading easily enough, he had been out here many times over the years. There was a service entrance a couple of hundred yards past the main house. He could see from the road that only one light was still burning in the farmhouse, in the main living room downstairs. He carefully turned onto the dirt track of the service road for the property, crawling slowly forwards, the quiet engine barely ticking over on idle. The truck bumped gently through a few potholes and came to rest near the back door of the building. The digital clock display said 21.33, late enough he guessed but he would have to hurry. He pulled down the balaclava type woollen hat over his face so that only his nose and eyes protruded. From a backpack on the passenger seat he pulled out a nightstick, a small aerosol can and a roll of black gaffer tape. The tape he put on his wrist like a bracelet, the nightstick stayed in his right hand and the can, a bottle of mace, he gripped in his left hand. The interior light of the pick-up came on as he opened the driver’s door causing the intruder to curse under his breath. He turned and quickly but gently closed the truck’s door, extinguishing the light. Without hesitation, he walked purposefully to the farm’s back door. He guessed that it would be unlocked, and the masked intruder was right. A turn of the big silver knob and the door swung in quietly on nicely oiled hinges. He looked around the darkened kitchen then moved stealthily towards the front of the house where the lights from the living room flooded out into the hall. He slowed and tiptoed towards the entry to the room, the nightstick raised. Esther was sitting by the fire, her back to the door, reading a book, completely unaware that she had unexpected company. As the intruder entered the room, the old wood flooring creaked under his weight, causing the woman to turn around.