DARK COUNTY (4 page)

‘Just give me your money,’ Steve repeated.

‘I don’t have any,’ the old man said in a pathetic voice.

‘Search him,’ Steve said. Walker stepped forward and began to rummage through the old man’s pockets. The old man groaned as Walker checked his jacket and trousers. When he was done, Walker looked at Steve and shook his head.

‘Fuck it!’ Steve shouted. The old man visibly quaked at the anger in his voice.

‘What about this?’ Joe said, holding the old man’s arm out towards Steve, displaying his left hand, and more importantly the thick gold ring on his finger.

Steve grabbed the old man’s hand and looked at the ring.

‘Is that solid gold?’ he asked.

‘Please,’ the old man spluttered. ‘That’s my wedding ring; it’s all I have left of my wife.’

Steve slapped the old man across the face with the back of his hand.

‘Shut up.’

The old man began to sob loudly. Unfazed by the man’s anguish, Steve began trying to pull the ring from his finger. It wouldn’t come. Steve spat on the old man’s finger, using his saliva to try and lubricate the ring free, but still it wouldn’t come. Anger on his face, Steve pushed Joe backward, making him release the old man’s arm. Steve shoved the man’s hand under his face.

‘Take it off,’ he commanded.

‘I can’t,’ the old man cried out at him. ‘I broke that finger years ago, and the ring has been stuck there ever since.’

Suddenly Sam stepped forward, his hand in his pocket.

‘I got this Steve-o,’ he said grinning.

He pulled a knife out of his pocket. The blade glinted in the scant moonlight. Dread filled Benton’s heart. Things were really getting out of hand now.

Steve smiled and held the man’s hand up to Sam. The twin with the knife took it in his own and began to cut through the old man’s finger. Blood spurted out and the old man howled with pain. It was a noise that surely could have been heard for miles. It seemed to take forever, Sam sawing at the digit. When he had cut all the way down to the bone, he bent the old man’s finger back until it snapped and came away from his hand. The old man roared in agony.

‘Shut it,’ Steve said, kicking the old man hard in the side of the head. Tom let go and the old man crashed to the floor.

‘Is he...dead?’ Joe asked. Benton couldn’t tell if the youngster was nervous or excited from the tone of his voice.

Tom leant down and listened to the old man’s chest.

‘No, he’s breathing,’ Tom said.

‘We have to get out of here,’ Benton finally said. ‘Someone would have heard that scream. I bet the police are already on their way.’

Jason, Walker, Tom and Joe all nodded in agreement and started to walk away from the old man. Sam stood there cleaning the blood from his knife on the old man’s jacket.

Steve turned to the others.

‘Wait,’ he said. At the sound of his voice everyone froze. ‘This got pretty fucking serious. We can’t just leave him here like that’

Benton stopped. Of course, Steve was right, what if no one had called the police? Then the old man would surely die out here in this condition. They had to do something. Benton pulled his phone out of his pocket.

‘Yeah, we better call an ambulance for him,’ Benton said.

Steve rushed over and slapped the phone out of his hand.

‘No, you fucking moron. I meant we have to finish him off.’

At first, Benton couldn’t even comprehend what Steve was saying. Then as it dawned on him, he felt an icy shiver run down his spine.

‘What?’ Benton said. ‘You don’t mean...?’

‘Yes, I mean kill him,’ Steve said. ‘Think about it. He saw all of our faces. This wasn’t just a mugging; Sam cut his fucking finger off.’

To emphasise the point, he waved the severed finger in Benton’s face, the thick gold ring still in place.

‘If he lives, we’ll all go down for this,’ Steve said.

‘He’s right,’ Sam agreed. Benton could see now that this twin was not just devious, he was psychotic.

Steve walked over to him and snatched the knife out of his hand.

‘We all take a go,’ he said, holding the knife up to them. ‘That way we know that we’re all in it together and no one’s gonna grass.’

Benton looked round at the others, hoping for some sign that one of them felt the same way that he did. Alas, it seemed they all agreed with Steve.

Taking the knife in his right hand, Steve headed over to the slumped body of the old man. He raised the glinting blade up and brought it down hard into the man’s back. Benton had been expecting the man to scream, or at the very least, to twitch as the blade was buried deep in his body. The old man, though, remained still.

Steve handed the knife to Sam, who gleefully took it. He knelt down besides the old man and rammed the knife, up to the hilt, into his ribs. Benton shuddered as he saw the way that Sam smiled.

Next up was Jason. Though not a cheerful as his twin, he was equally thorough when he stabbed the man in the ribs on the opposite side to his brother. When he was done, Steve took the knife off him and handed it to Joe. The boy, who had been acting so tough all night, now seemed nervous.

‘Go on, kid,’ Steve said. ‘Your turn.’

Joe nodded and walked over to the body. Without looking what he was doing, Joe raised the knife up and drove it down in between the old man’s shoulder blades. Benton could have sworn that he saw tears in the younger boy’s eyes as he stabbed the old man, but he quickly wiped his face to hide it from the others.

Steve took the knife from Joe and offered it to Tom. The young man who was considered second in command of the gang hesitated. He looked at the knife, then to the bleeding lump on the floor.

‘Steve, he’s dead,’ Tom said. ‘It’s enough.’

Steve looked calmly at him for a few moments, and then a fire of rage appeared in his eyes. He launched forwards, grabbing Tom by the front of his hoodie with his free hand and holding the knife up to his face with the other.

‘I say when it’s enough, alright?’ Steve screamed. ‘All of us are going to cut him, and I swear to God, anyone who doesn’t gets the fucking same as he did.’

Tom looked shocked, it was clear that he had never seen Steve behave like this. Sure, Steve had a reputation as a thug, a bully, a hooligan, a petty criminal even, but never had Tom seen that his friend was capable of this. It was too late, though, the old man was dead, and they were all in this together, or they would face the same fate. Steve had graduated to the next level, murderer.

‘Fuck’s sake,’ Tom said snatching the knife out of Steve’s hand. He walked over to the old man’s body and stuck the knife into his back. He looked back at Steve. ‘Alright?’

Steve nodded. Tom shook his head and walked away. As he passed him, he handed the knife to Walker.

The silent youth walked over to the old man’s body, though by now Benton suspected the correct term was corpse, and knelt down. He looked up at Steve, their leader nodded.

‘You know this is wrong?’ Walker said.

Benton was not the only one who was surprised by this; it was clear from all of their expressions that it was a real rarity for him to talk. His voice was for more gentle and eloquent than Benton had expected.

‘What?’ Steve said. His rage was building again.

‘The way you lot have been wildly stabbing this guy,’ Walker said. ‘If by any chance he was still alive, it was just fucking cruel. This should have been done first.’

Without a second’s hesitation, Walker lifted the old man’s head up by his hair and dragged the blade across his throat. Then he got up and walked away, handing the knife back to Steve.

Benton’s heart sank. He was the only one left, the only one who had not taken a turn. Despite the fact that they knew it was wrong, Joe, Tom and Walker had all done their duty for the gang. Benton, though, had only been a part of the gang for one night, and decided before the saw the old man that he didn’t want to be any longer. Now he was faced with the prospect of stabbing a man. Legally he knew he was probably already an accessory to murder, but if he took hold of that knife and stuck it in the old man’s corpse, he would feel it emotionally.

‘You’re up, Nick’ Steve said, holding the knife out to him. No one except his mother had called him by his first name since he had started secondary school; he was always just Benton. It was a connection to when they had been little children, when he and Steve had played together, when they had been friends. They had been so close. Yet the monster standing in front of him now bore no resemblance to that small boy who had been his childhood playmate. He did not recognise the creature he had become and wanted nothing to do with him. If this meant Steve killing him, too, so be it, at least he would die with his conscience clear.

‘No,’ Benton said, with a strength of conviction that he had never had before in his life.

Steve’s eyes burned, but he smiled.

‘What?’ he said, poking his finger in his ears. ‘I don’t think I heard you properly.’

‘You heard me, alright,’ Benton said. He was aware that none of the others were moving, he wasn’t even sure they were breathing. They just watched on, half of them wishing they had had the nerve to stand up to Steve, the other half wanting to see Steve tear him apart.

‘Didn’t you hear what I told him?’ Steve said, pointing the knife at Tom. ‘Anyone who doesn’t do their part gets the same as this old fucker.’

‘I heard you,’ Benton said. ‘I’m just not scared of you. There’s nothing you can do that’s going to make me stab that poor old man, even if it means you killing me.’

‘You’re too right it means killing you,’ Steve said, then took a step closer.

Benton took off running, hoping he could get back to the old people’s estate before the others could catch him. Of course, he had forgotten that Sam, the psycho, was stood behind him and to the right. On seeing him turn, Sam jumped left and grabbed him. Benton kicked and tried to get free. Sam was like a spider, though, his grip constantly shifting to be in the best place. Jason ran over and joined in, grabbing Benton on the opposite side to his twin. Together they managed to drag him to the ground. Benton continued trying to fight his way free of the twins, but it was no use.

Steve stepped over and knelt on his chest. His weight was unbearable, Benton felt like he couldn’t breathe. Steve leered down at him, his face a mask of menace.

‘I warned you, Nick,’ he said, putting the knife up to the side of Benton’s face. ‘I fucking warned you all.’

Steve dragged the blade across Benton’s cheek hard. He screamed in pain as it cut at his flesh. Steve pulled the knife away and admired his handy work, as the blood poured from Benton’s cheek. He smiled and nodded to himself, like a workman taking pride in a job well done.

‘One last chance,’ he said. ‘Take this knife and stab the old fucker over there, and this is the worst you get.’

Benton gasped for air, the weight of Steve on his chest made him unable to speak. Steve realised and stood up.

‘What did you say?’ Steve asked.

‘I said, go fuck yourself, Steve,’ Benton smiled, despite the pain and the fear he was feeling inside, he had stuck to his guns. If he died now, at least he knew he would have died with some dignity.

‘You little prick,’ Steve said. He moved to kneel down on Benton once more, but something stopped him. A sound. They all heard it, each of them looking around to see which of them had done it. There had been a definite laugh, a low grating sound, like a motor trying to start.

It was clear from all of their faces that none of them had made the sound. Then they heard it again, this time its point of origin was much more obvious. It came from the bloodied corpse of the old man. He laughed again. This time they could see him moving, his body shaking just a little with each laugh.

Sam and Jason loosed their grip on Benton, both of them watching the old man intently. They looked to Steve, but their leader had no more idea what was happening than they did. All of the boys, Benton included, were stood there, staring in disbelief.

‘What the fuck?’ Steve said.

At this, the old man roared with laughter. He put his hands under himself and pushed him self up onto his knees. Everything about his expression made him look dead, the slack jaw, the glazed eyes, and yet he was moving. He got to his feet and turned to face them. Without his mouth moving a voice came from him. It was not the voice they had heard earlier; this one was darker, and stronger.

‘Nice work, boys,’ the corpse said. ‘But crimes like this don’t go unpunished.’

They were all too terrified to move. Every fibre of Benton’s being was screaming at him to run, and not look back. Yet he couldn’t, he could not look away from what he was witnessing.

The old man reached up with his hands to the gaping wound on his neck that Walker had inflicted. He placed one hand below the wound, and one above, and then slowly slid his fingertips into the bleeding gash. In what was like a grotesque parody of one of the mask scenes in
Mission Impossible
, the old man began to tear the skin off his head. When the flesh mask was removed, they saw his face, his true face, the one that had been hiding below the surface all along. It was perfect, flawless. It reminded Benton of a statue carved in marble, only it was red. Not from the blood, either, his skin was bright red. His teeth were gleaming white, but all filed to sharp points. His eyes glowed with fire, and his long black hair cascaded back in sweeping waves. Protruding from his forehead were two small but clearly visible horns.

He threw off his jacket and bent forward. Two enormous, skeletal looking wings ripped out of his shoulder blades.

‘Pleased to meet you, boys,’ the thing said with a wry smile. ‘Hope you guess my name.’

He looked around their terrified faces. Each of them stood there with their mouths open, unable to look away.

‘I love the smell of fear,’ the thing said. He slowly raised his hand and pointed straight at Benton.

Benton wanted to scream, but no sound would come from him.

‘You,’ the thing said, still pointing at him. ‘You don’t belong here. Go, now, and don’t look back.’

Suddenly Benton was able to move again, he turned to run. He took one last look at the other boys. Their eyes begged him for help, but he had none to give. He set off back up the path along the riverbank.