Justin Cairns - Little Red

‘This one’ whispered Richard, his foot pointing towards number thirteen.

‘Unlucky number’ Nathan’s attempt at humour created a little smirk to strike his friends face.

He placed an ear upon the door and listened for any sounds coming from the flat. The sound of thrash metal could be heard, Richard judged that it was from behind another closed door inside.

He stepped back, bracing himself upon Nathan’s shoulder, his leg raised slightly.

‘Wait!’ Nathan whispered before his friend ploughed through the obstacle. He stepped towards the door and reached for the handle, he turned it to the left and the clunk shook the wood, it creaked open slightly.

‘Good idea mate’

‘I have them sometimes!’ smiling

Richard entered first, Nathan close behind. The music could be heard as they moved in, the distorted guitar riff scratched at their ears. They checked the kitchen, empty. They moved slowly down the hall. The bedroom lay in darkness, empty juice cartons and food wrappers were scattered over the floor. Richard tapped his shoulder, instructing him to follow. Nathan swallowed the ever-growing lump in his throat. The hand was placed flat upon the door, the music vibrated through the thin wood. Richard nodded, confirming that the noise was behind the next obstruction. He checked the handle, it turned slowly, the metal ball grinding against the mounting plate. The noise increased as the door was pushed open. Richard could make out the red light upon the wall to his right. The room held a damp atmosphere, the moist smell striking him as he moved in further. The red bulb cast a low eerie light upon the room, the occupant sat at a desk, the computer screen blaring into his eyes. He noticed the man’s figure, overweight and unfit.

He edged around the open door and moved closer, Nathan pushed through slowly, the smell filling his chest. He felt nauseous, the waft of stale food and sweat caused him to flare his nostrils. Richard stood, the bag in one hand. The obese man starred into the hypnotic blue screen, unaware of his unwanted guests. He placed the bag down slowly and pointed Nathan to the other side of the room, out of view and the line of fire. He positioned his feet apart, one foot forward, the other in line with his body, creating a stable platform to attack from. He moved his hands in a circular motion, clicking the wrists free. The fists were clenched and raised for an attack.

‘Hey’ he shouted, catching the man off guard.

The blob swivelled to the sound. The fist landed smack bang on his nose, he stood, staggering slightly. The open hand jab followed soon after, connecting with his throat. He fell to his knee wheezing. The straight kick to the stable leg forced it to buckle and the man landed upon the floor.

‘Tape, quickly!’ he shouted to Nathan who moved with the speed of a Gazelle.

The interior lighting had been switched on once the man was secured to the chair. His wrists were bound to the arms with copious amounts of tape. His legs and feet were taped flush with the frame, the grey sticky material wrapped over and around the seat several times to keep his limbs in place. Nathan had even pulled strands of tape around the man’s torso, to keep him down for definite. He woke, coughing from the wind-pipe strike delivered by his attacker.

‘Wakey wakey’ whispered Richard into the man’s ear.

‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ he yelled

‘Hey, I ask the fucking questions…..not you!’ tapping his forehead with a stiff finger. Nathan moved to Richard’s side and they watched the large man as he wriggled in the chair. The beads of sweat dropped from his brow, the top of his head was barely covered by fine hair. Richard retrieved his bag and began placing some of the contents on the table where the monitor sat. The man prisoner watched as each item was shown to him, a wide grin upon Richard’s face.

‘You see these tools, they’re for you fat boy!’ his finger hovered over the weapons.

‘Who are you?’ his face showed fear.

‘That’s not important’, began Nathan, ‘Your name please?’

‘Fuck you’ he spat

Nathan extended an open hand and the hammer was placed in it.

‘Nice choice!’ he nodded to Richard

‘Right, I’m going to fire some questions your way, I want them answered!’ the hammer aimed at the man’s face.

‘Like I said, fuck you’

‘Wrong answer’ the hammer crashed down upon the blob’s foot, the bone cracked as the skin was split. It came down again and again, the foot began to deform as each blow separated the bone. The victim screamed as the pain shot through him, the blood spitting in all directions.

‘Right, I’ll ask again!’ the sweat building upon his own brow, he attempted to catch his breath, ‘What’s your name?’

‘Lee, its Lee I swear!’ he trembled

‘Good, next one, what do you know about the Wolf?’

‘The killer?’

‘So you do know him?’

‘Not personally no, fuck, my foot is killing me….please!’

‘Why did you mention his name, the internet chat site, the one with the pictures that you admire so much….you know what I’m on about Lee!’

‘Please, I need to go to the hospital….please!’ he whimpered. Richard moved forward and stamped on his broken foot, the man jerked as the strike took him by surprise. The crunching sound deafened them.

‘The Wolf, where is he?’ Richard screamed in his face.

‘Fuck……..please stop!’

Nathan stood and watched the grown man cry, he had never heard a noise like the one coming from his mouth. The over emphasised breathing and high pitch whimpering had shocked him. He stepped back, the room started to spin. Richard moved to catch his friend as he collapsed to one side. He managed to grab hold of his jacket, decreasing the impact as Nathan connected with the floor. Richard lowered to his friends level, his knee resting upon the littered floor.

‘Nathan, hey, you hear me?’ shaking his shoulder

There was no reply, he had passed out but was still breathing. Richard contemplated his next move, he didn’t want to leave his unconscious friend upon the floor, but also he didn’t want to leave the occupant in case he made an attempt to flee. He thought quickly about the decision.

The small coffee table crumbled as Richards foot landed upon it. He collected the longest slab of wood and checked its durability, his strong hands attempted to break it in two. Satisfied that the item was strong enough he moved back to the obese man and placed the wood flat under his feet. He stood and reached for the black bag. The nail gun was removed, the box of nails clipped into place within the handle. Richard aimed it towards the wall and depressed the trigger. The loud clunk sound forced a nail to dart from its home and land upon the area in which it was intended for. Smiling, he turned to the man who had begun wetting himself, his grey underpants held a dark patch as the urine flooded his chair. Richard knelt down, the tip of the gun placed upright on top of the good foot. The pleas from his victim were un-heard, the trigger was pulled and the familiar clunk sound sent the nail through the bone, the wood cracked as the metal dug through it. The second was placed just below, securing the foot to the slab of wood. The blood leaked from each rupture. The cries were loud but Nathan remained out cold. Richard moved the weapon to the damaged foot.

‘Can’t do much more damage with this one can we?’ he laughed, the nail tearing through the pulped flesh and greeting the wood.

‘Now stay still, there’s a good boy’.

***

Jack’s head felt light, his vision impaired by the consumption of the amber liquid. He hadn’t drunk in a long time, not that he was a recovering alcoholic, he just released his built up anger whenever he had a skin full. The bottle held little alcohol, the vast amount of the contents now pumping through his stomach and diluting his blood stream. His stability had been weakened as he stood from the chair, he needed to stretch his legs, the numbing sensation crawled from his toes to his calf muscles. He tried calling Nathan again, he was struck by the same bad luck that had been following him like an overcast cloud above his head. The mobile phone was thrown across the room, landing by the bright green plant that stood in one corner. He growled to himself as the alcohol intensified his anger. He collapsed to his knees, the weeping began and he found it difficult to control himself. He had lost everything that ever mattered to him, he blamed the job, and now his career was slowly drifting away. He watched as his mind displayed an image, the unmanned boat bobbed upon the clear blue waves. He reached for it, the waves dragging his dream further away. He called to it as the object decreased in size, the distance between them increasing. His forehead kissed the carpet of the office, he cried for his ex-wife, her name echoing the room. The spit escaped his mouth and pooled below his nose, a strand clung to his skin. He began to remember his reaction to Helen leaving him, the day she had packed her belongings as he worked. The scene they made as she left their house when he arrived home. The copious amounts of amber liquid he consumed. The length of rope from his garden shed, securing it upon the bannister at the top of the hall. The other end holding a loop, large enough for his head to fit through, the knot made to allow the rope to slide up until it could go no more.