Neil White - Beyond Evil

Donia’s hand felt small in his and Charlie felt her fear through the tight grip of her fingers. They moved through the room, careful not to dislodge anything, to make a noise. There were more shouts from outside but they didn’t look. The way had to be forward.

They ended up in the tiled corridor that led to an external door. No one had interrupted them. They were almost there.

He reached out for the door handle, sturdy and reassuring, one push to freedom.

He pressed down slowly with his hand, and he gave Donia’s hand a squeeze of reassurance. Then he pulled on the door.

It didn’t move. It was stuck in the frame. Charlie pulled on the door again, but it just rattled.

It was locked.

Chapter Sixty-One

Charlie whirled round. There were voices getting closer.

‘They’re coming back inside,’ he hissed, and grabbed Donia. He pulled her into the shadow of an alcove opposite the locked door, shielded by coats hung from hooks on the wall. His nose filled with the smell of dirty clothes, of cigarettes, wood-smoke and oil. He could hear Donia’s panicky breathing, her hand clasped around his arm. The chain around her other wrist dragged against his leg. He reached round to give her fingers another squeeze, and her head leaned against him.

‘What do we do now?’ she said. ‘They will kill us if they catch us.’

Charlie looked around to find a way out, but he couldn’t see one. The door was locked and too sturdy to kick through. If he tried, it would just give away their position. There was barbed wire draped around the windows and grilles on the other side. It wasn’t impassable, but it would take time. They didn’t have that.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, frustration creeping into his voice.

The sounds of people filled the house. They sounded agitated, excited jabbering.

‘We can’t stay here and hide,’ Donia said. ‘They’ll see that I’m not in the old man’s room and come looking.’

‘We might have to run for it,’ Charlie said. ‘If we just bolt for the door, people might be shocked enough not to stop us. Just go for the front door and hope it’s open. Get out there and run as hard as you can.’

‘And if they do stop us?’

Charlie didn’t respond to that.

Her hand squeezed his arm again. ‘Are you a quick runner?’ she said.

He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘As long as you are, that’s all that matters.’

Charlie tried to stop the tremble in his hand. He realised what he had just said, that he would be the slower prey that would allow the younger one to get away. It was the law of nature, except that he didn’t feel ready for the sacrifice. He wanted to spend time with Donia, but that was selfish talk.

He opened his eyes to peer around the coats. There were shadows in the hallway. They would see at any moment that Donia wasn’t there.

‘Wait until they see that you’re missing,’ he whispered. ‘They’ll split up to look for you. That might be our best chance.’

‘Okay,’ she said, although Charlie heard the tremor in her voice.

Charlie sucked in some air and tried to calm his nerves. ‘I’ll go first. I might be able to knock some of them out of the way. Just tuck right in behind me.’ He looked round, and there was uncertainty in her eyes. He tried a smile. ‘Just run hard and fast and hope they move first.’

She smiled in return, but it didn’t get near her eyes. They were filled with fear, and Charlie felt the sudden weight of responsibility. This wasn’t just about him. He had to get Donia away.

Charlie watched the shadows get closer. It was three young women, heading for the living room, walking past where the old man slept, and lived. They hadn’t looked. They were animated, talking quickly. He heard the word police.

Then one of them turned to the old man. There was a shout.

Charlie gripped Donia’s hand.

More people came running. Footsteps, shouts. They looked into the room, and then split up, suddenly frantic. People ran upstairs, some outside. And then three came through the living room, heading towards them.

‘Now!’ Charlie hissed at Donia, and then he burst out of their hiding place, heading for the living room, for the people coming towards them. All he thought of was the open door to the field outside.

The women in front of him screamed as he charged. He gritted his teeth, flared his nostrils, and led with his shoulder. He hit the first one hard, who cried out and then fell backwards, taking the other two to the ground with her.

It slowed him down. He stumbled over them, could hear Donia behind him, her hand on his back, the chain around her wrist jangling. There was a man ahead of him now, in a tight vest, with a goatee beard twirled into a tail, muscles taut in his arms. He whirled round as Charlie ran.

Charlie couldn’t stop, he knew that. He could see into the hallway, the open door at the end, artificial light spilling onto the grass. Donia was pushing at him, urging him on, panic in her voice.

He tried to run faster, just hoping that if he could get Donia into the open, her youth and fear would do the rest. He shouted out, his teeth bared in a snarl. The man in the vest spread his arms. Mistake. He was going for the grab, not for strength. Momentum was on Charlie’s side. Hit him hard and pump with the legs, that was the key.

Charlie put his shoulder into the man’s chest, whose head went backwards as he fell, arms flailing, but Charlie was still running, heading for the door. He scrambled over the man on the floor, was able to push away from him with his legs, and then the cold air hit his cheeks. He was outside, no one in front of him, just the dark shapes of the valley ahead, lit by the moon. There was grass under his feet, and shouts from behind him.

Charlie was about to start running when he realised that Donia wasn’t pushing at him anymore. There was a scream, a shout for help.

Charlie turned around and then stopped. Donia was on the floor, and the man in the vest was holding on to her legs. Other people were pulling at her, taking her back inside.

They had her.

Chapter Sixty-Two

Charlie hung his head and sucked in gulps of air.

The group had pulled Donia all the way back inside, so the last Charlie had seen of her was her legs kicking out. There had been too many of them, and so it was always a fight she was going to lose. He could still hear her though, fighting against them, screaming.

A man appeared in the door. It was the small man with dark hair and piercingly bright eyes he had seen in Oulton, in a scruffy denim shirt. Charlie knew him now as Henry.

‘So you didn’t bring it?’ Henry said, and Charlie detected some amusement in his voice, as if this was all part of the game.

‘Let her go,’ Charlie snarled at him.

Henry shook his head. ‘That’s not going to happen, you know that.’

‘If you touch her, I’ll kill you.’

‘Did you think you could outsmart me?’ Henry said. ‘You know I want the original tape, but you haven’t brought it, so you’re just surplus now, a threat to our group.’ He tutted. ‘That isn’t a good thing to be, a threat, because you know how we deal with that,’ and Henry glanced towards the stones.

Charlie followed the gaze. He took in the naked woman first, dumped into a hole in the ground, her skin pale under the moonlight, spoiled by dark streaks that he knew were blood. Then he saw Ted, face down, rolled into a more shallow grave, soil and grass sods piled up next to him.

He was transfixed for a moment, his mind working a few seconds behind his eyes, terrified by the knowledge that the same people who were now holding Donia had killed them both.

Some women appeared behind Henry, watching Charlie, smiling, enjoying the moment.