Depravity (20 page)

“I'm a scavenger,” he murmured. Greg didn't see this in a negative sense, in fact, he was rather proud of his title. What annoyed him more than anything was that he shared this title with the rest of the idiots in town. As far as he was concerned, they should be called parasites, at least a scavenger does a modicum of work to collect their spoils.

The others had already filed off the minibus. Greg didn't bother looking up to watch the sheep pass him. He just nodded a couple of times when asked if he was coming. Christ, of course he was going to join them, what fucking choice did he have? Unlike the likes of Joyce Belmont and her dumb husband, and Alistair and his big hard gang, he wasn't exactly looking forward to his imminent death.

If the psycho they were to lie in wait for wouldn't murder them, then the real hotel owners would. Greg finally looked up, and watched Alistair Graves take the lead from Jack Williams. The hotel door stood open and the form of the little boy waited to great the unwary sacrifices. Greg waited until their part time policeman and the cafe owner had reached the door before standing up. He'd dragged his feet long enough, already, the others would be asking questions. “This isn't fucking fair,” he whispered. “I don't want to die tonight.” He placed his favourite hat on his head, stuffed the gun into his overcoat and reluctantly made his way down the aisle.

Greg stopped by the minibus door, his fingers wrapped around the cold metal rail, seriously wondering what they'd do to him if he leapt into the driver's seat and took off. The notion had so much appeal. Within one hour, he'd be in the next town, and out of the real hotel owner's influence. Hell, would any of them even miss him? From what he'd heard tonight, those clowns would have enough on their plate without having to be concerned with one unimportant local skipping town.

He glanced over his shoulder. Joyce had reached the door. The boy-form shook her hand then hugged the woman. Even from here, he saw that the woman's emotions had just gone into overdrive. To her, this was akin to meeting the queen. Greg felt a note of jealousy creeping through his bones. He took one last look at that driver's wheel before stepping off the coach.

No, a big fat no. Greg wasn't going to abandon his town. Not for the real hotel owners, not for anyone. What, like he was the type to sneak away like some guilty stray dog after stealing a sausage? Fuck that. They wouldn't kill him. The others? Well sure, they weren't worth a damn. The real hotel owners needed him though. He was the catalyst, the gel that kept their town together. The man with all the ideas. After all, it was him who suggested using the school minibus. It was him who ordered Alistair to collect the guns from the museum.

Greg whipped his head back inside the interior when he noticed the luggage compartment under the seats starting to open. The panel slid up and three figures crawled out. He waited, slowing down his breathing, listening to the frantic whispers. Greg silently moved back into the shadows when two of the figures crept past the open door. When the last figure walked past, he jumped out, landing on the figure's back.

The pair of them crashed onto the hard tarmac. Greg grinned at the sound of a female cry. He looked up and watched the other two disappearing into the night. “Well, who do we have here?” He viciously pulled the long blonde hair back and gazed at the hateful face of Katie Overton. “A fucking Overton. Why am I even surprised? Come on then, let's go meet the others.”

“Go fuck yourself,” she snapped. You and all the rest of your cunting scum are going to die tonight. He's coming for you. He's going to kill every one of you bastards!”

He back-handed the girl then rabbit punched her in the guts when she tried to struggle. “We'll have none of that,” he snarled, dragging her away from the minibus. Greg now had a captive audience, which, in his opinion, is how it should be. Yeah, Greg James, the hero of the day. Now he could add snatching possible saboteurs to his previous mental list.

Okay, so he'd only managed to snag one of them. That was enough though, now that their presence were known, it would be that difficult to track them down. Greg selected his concerned but confident face, dug his nails into the girl's bare arms then dragged her over to his waiting audience.

Jack reluctantly moved out of the way to allow Greg access to the boy-form. The hate that the cafe owner extruded was almost tangible. Greg could be sure whether if he was sending that intense emotion to him or the girl. It had to be him, the bugger now knew he's just lost his favourite sex-toy. Fuck him. Jack had nobody to blame but himself. If he'd have dished out a few more beatings, this stroppy little tart might have started to behave better. Then again, maybe not. The bitch was an Overton after all.

The real hotel owner was bound to give the girl to him. That just had to happen. If only so he could watch the big guy's face crumple up. Yes, this was his moment, his swansong. Once again, Greg James had proved his worth to the community.

“Look at you, Greg. Standing there, holding your prize, waiting for me to pat you on the head. Do you want me to do that? Then call you a good boy and throw you a treat?” The boy-form chuckled. “I know I shouldn't mock, but there are times when I can't help myself. Is it your fault that you're a product of our shaping?” He licked his lips. “And such a tasty one too.” He ran his forefinger down the girl's cheek. “Such a pretty little thing. I can see why you want her, Greg, I really do. Okay, chaps, fulfil your obligations.”

Greg yelped when the two other men wrestled his arms away from Katie and pulled them apart. The girl just stood there, her head switching from one side to the other. “What are you doing to me?” he shouted. “Get off my arms, you bastards!” he could hear Joyce giggling. The boy-form put his hands around the girl's shaking body and gently moved her to the side, then stepped up to Greg. He hooked his finger into Greg's shirt and pulled his arm down. Buttons scattered, revealing his bare chest.

“A product of our shaping,” he murmured. “You know, perhaps my other colleague could have something here. I look at you, Greg, and I see there's not much difference between you and the despicable individual running our hotel. Why hunt when we can farm?” The boy-form looked at the others in turn. “Oh what joy. My words and their meaning just bounce off.” He glared at Greg. “Not you though, the implication is not lost on you, is it?”

Greg tried one more time to free his arms. When that failed, he struck out with his legs, just hoping that one of his feet would connect with the little cunt. “Get off me, you fucking clowns, Can't you see what they are going to do to us all?”

Jack's snarling face suddenly filled his vision. “Shut your fucking hole!” The man stepped back and slammed his fist into Greg's mouth. Before he could even react, both the men forced him down onto his knees then grabbed his lower jaw and forced it open. He wept and cried, feeling one of his broken teeth going down his throat. The man looked up into the boy-form's blazing eyes, silently begging him to stop this.

The diminutive figure tutted then reached into Greg's mouth, wrapped his little fingers around his tongue and squeezed. “How desperate are you to live, Greg?” The boy-form removed his hand. “There's still a chance for you.”

Greg felt them move his head to the left, only to find Joyce now had his own gun and was pointing it directly at his forehead.

“She's a little upset that you gave them all weapons that won't fire. Don't be too upset with me here, Greg. I know how much you hurt, it's not as much hurt as I feel over your betrayal. I can forgive you. Thing is, I don't think the others will be so generous. I bet your gun works, Greg.”

He tried to focus on the boy-form's words, knowing his life was so close to ending, despite the agony in his mouth, Greg knew exactly what would happen to him if he did roll over and give up on his life.

“Here's the deal. We have a while before my main meal arrives, so I'm going to give your colleagues a chance to hone their skills on you. If you can get to the gardens at the back of the hotel, I'll let you leave.” He tapped Katie on her shoulder. “I'm so happy you didn't decide to make a run for it, honey. That would have been most unfortunate. You can go now though. Go on, your two friends are hiding in the hedges to your left.”

Greg found himself free to move. He took a step back, hoping to spin around and run back to the minibus but suddenly found his way blocked by Jack.

“As for you, Greg. You'll find your journey starts when you pass me.” He looked at Joyce. “See if you can shoot him in the head. If you do, I'll give you the museum.”

Greg didn't stick around to listen to the current museum owner splutter his protest. He pushed past the boy-form and raced up the stairs. He wasn't a total fucking idiot. There would be no way out through the recreation room. If he had gone that way, he'd probably be dead by now.

He flinched at the gun thunder. The bitch was actually firing at him. He couldn't believe it, that fucking cow really was trying to kill him! Greg scrambled up the rest of the steps, expecting one of those bullets to find him at any second. She wasn't going to get away with that, not a fucking chance. He would have his payback on Joyce if it was the last thing he did.

Greg dived onto the landing and rolled away from the edge, before he crawled over to the first open door. He choked back a cry when he saw two men already in there. One of them, lying on his back, looked as though he'd just been dug up. The other man had no head.

He got to his feet and raced to the end of the corridor, knowing that they wouldn't stay by that open door forever. No doubt the boy-form was giving his a few seconds head start, probably thought the game would be more fun that way. Fuck, why hadn't he just driven away when he had the chance? Why had his instinct for self-preservation not kicked in? Greg moaned quietly, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been in so much pain. His tongue now felt as though it filled his mouth.

Footsteps banging across the floor below him shifted the pity. Greg could feel sorry for himself once he was safe. He pushed through the doors at the end of the corridor and sat directly behind them to consider his options. He believed the others would have to search every room before reaching these doors. That made sense, it's what he would do, it gave him a few more seconds head start.

There must be another way out of here. This was a hotel, for crying out loud. It had to have some fire-exits. If there were any, the fuckers weren't in sight. Greg didn't know what to do.

There must be another way out of here. There had to be, this was a fucking hotel. Where were the bastard fire-exits? He swung his head from left to right. All he saw were two more doors and no green running man stickers above them. This was so unfair. What the hell was he going to do?

His decision was made for him when he felt someone trying to get through the door. He got onto his knees and saw Joyce on the other side. This wasn't how it's supposed to work, they're supposed to check the other rooms first! She was shouting for the others. Her face turned red when the woman turned back around.

He growled and wrenched open the door, his misery turning for a brief moment to glee when she fell through the gap. Greg raised his foot and stamped down on her hand. The glee staying put at the sound of her bones shattering. The others were racing towards him. Greg booted the woman once in the face before running over to the first door and slamming himself through it.

Greg blinked when he saw the key in the lock. Was his luck finally changing? He turned the key then jumped back, watching the handle move rapidly up and down. He didn't know how long that would hold them. He spun around and ran through the room, heading over to the window. The view opened out onto the gardens at the back of the hotel, the exact place where he was supposed to go to escape his death. Somehow though, Greg doubted that the monster would keep his side of the bargain. It wanted Greg dead, it craved to feed on his soul.

The door banged numerous times. Why couldn't the others see that they were in as much danger as he was? They were just doing their master's bidding. Greg opened his mouth and carefully stroked his swollen tongue, aware of how dumb that thought was. They'd been doing their masters bidding all their lives, why would they change now?

He needed to get out of this room! There were another three doors in here. Greg ran to the first one, and opened it, only to see a bedroom that looked like it hadn't seen used in decades. He persuaded himself that hiding under the bed would be the worst idea he'd ever had and moved onto the next door.

A flight of bare wooden stairs, leading down greeted Greg when the door swung open. This had to be a fire exit, a way out of this horrible place. He pulled the door shut, not even caring when he was plunged into darkness. Greg kept his hands flat against the brick walls and hurried down the steps, knowing that time was still against him. They'd know exactly where he'd gone as soon as they opened this door.

Perhaps he should have hidden under the bed after all? When they had run past him, all he'd  have to do then was double back and escape through the front door. No, that wouldn't have work. That boy-form wasn't with the others, he'd be waiting for Greg.

He reached the bottom of the steps, thankful that now at least, there was a little light. A single light bulb in the ceiling cast a sickly yellow haze across the area at the bottom, showing Greg another two doors. He tried the first one and found it locked. If the other one was locked too, Greg knew he was fucked.

He grabbed the metal door handle and pushed it down, feeling the weight of the world fall off him when the door creaked open. Greg was almost home and dry, he had to be. He refused to believe otherwise.