Should Have Killed The Kid (11 page)

He drew in a long, shaky breath but, as the realisation hit that it was even more alarming having Monty out of sight, he edged across and peeked back out the window.

He almost collapsed in relief when he saw that Monty was gone.
See it’s no–
But it was short lived when he saw that the squirming sack was still sitting in the middle of the path.

Dave went for his mobile. Tripping and sprawling in his haste to grab the phone from where he’d left it sitting on the bed. Though when he had it in hand and flipped up the top – nearly tearing the charger free in his haste – Dave found himself hesitating once more.
Am I overreacting?
He didn’t know.
Should I call? Am I being dumb?
The barrage of questions did little to help his indecision.

After a second's thought he placed the phone back down and then haltingly made his way to the door of the room. He eased it open and peered out into the corridor beyond. He listened intently, torn, still weighing up what he wanted to do.

It was hard to tell but he
thought
he could hear something downstairs – though when he’d left the bar, the Gallo’s had still been awake and at it, so maybe it was just them?

Yeah but maybe it’s not…
An insistently nagging voice just wouldn’t let it go and after a couple more seconds, Dave relented.

Fuck it, what’s the worst that can happen,
he thought and darted back into the room. He scooped up his phone and plugged in three zeros but paused for one last second before he hit the green button.

The scream ripped through the Hotel just as he pushed down and Dave jumped, dropping the phone as jittery adrenaline rocketed through his body. A second scream followed in its wake accompanied by a strange monotonous pounding that seemed to vibrate up through the floor itself.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Was that Bruno?
He couldn't tell. As he scrabbled for the phone on the ground, he listened but the screams weren’t repeated. Just the relentless pounding that seemed to go on and on and on.

‘Hello, hello?’ a female voice chirped through the phone as he pushed it to his ears. ‘Is there anyone–‘

‘Something’s happening,’ he cut the operator off mid-sentence and hissed into the phone. ‘There was a man and he was on the path and now I think he’s inside and there's screaming.’ Dave halted and swallowed as he realised he was just talking gibberish. ‘I’m at the Gallo’s Hotel. I think that someone has broken in.’

‘What is your location.’ The operator sounded calm but her words sent Dave into an even worse panic.

‘The Gallo’s Hotel…’ he repeated before it dawned on him that he was going to have to be a little more specific than that. ‘Just over the border. In…’
What’s the fucking name of the place?
Alarm was crackling through his brain, making it hard to think.

‘YOU CUNT!’ The words boomed throughout the hotel, unmistakably Marcus’s and Dave dropped the phone again, whimpering as they were abruptly followed by a long drawn out shriek that made Dave want to curl up and sob.

Dimly he could hear the operator chirping away through the phone but he made no effort to pick it up. He suspected his hands would be shaking too badly to hold it now anyway.

Got to get out of the hotel. Got to get out of the hotel,
the loop repeated endlessly in his head, blotting out everything and Dave started a shambolic run for the door. It felt like an eternity passed before he reached it. An eternity measured by the slow beat of the thumping. Dave almost wept when he reached the hall and realised that he’d left his keys in the bag in his room.

Although no more than a couple of seconds were wasted as he dashed back to retrieve them, every step of the way felt like he was dooming himself to some horrendous fate.

The thumping cut off as he went for the stairs. The dead silence that followed was even more oppressive. To his own ears, his footsteps were unbearably loud; his breathing alone enough to alert anyone that he was there. He went down the steps two at time, nearly tumbling in his haste, certain that at any moment he’d see Monty emerge through the plastic drop sheet and turn in his direction.

He didn’t, though, and Dave stumbled to a halt in front of the drop-sheet, desperately trying to control his harsh gasps as he cracked the plastic sheet and peered through.

Monty was heading his way, weaving between the tables with a dripping hunk of fire wood in his hand. But that wasn’t what forced the whimper from Dave’s lips. That was what he saw behind the advancing man.

Bruno lay canted awkwardly across the bar. Dave only recognised the body from the clothes that Bruno had been wearing earlier. The head was unrecognisable. The front collapsed and cratered in until it looked more like a puddle of wet mince than anything vaguely human. At his feet, the younger Gallo lay, mercifully half obscured by a table so that Dave could only see his legs sticking out into the rapidly expanding puddle of blood that flowed from the bar like a torrent.

Is it heading for the old man?
Dave couldn't believe his eyes as the red river ran across the floorboards hot on the heels of Monty as though he were a magnet attracting it.

Dave gagged and almost vomited as he spun away from the drop-sheet seeking another exit. He couldn't seem to stop whimpering as he shot a quick glance back upstairs but immediately decided that would be a bad idea and headed for the opposite drop sheet instead, his brain reeling, still trying to catch up with the sudden change in events.

He flailed through into an office of some kind. He took in a couple of desks mounded high with paperwork but apart from that the room was only a blur as he spun three sixty...

...Then almost collapsed with relief when he saw the large window. He dashed for it, waiting for the crinkle of plastic behind him, waiting to turn and see Monty glaring at him. Fumbling with the latch took an eternity as Dave started at every creak and groan. The sound of footsteps briefly sent him into overdrive. Even though they sounded like they were heading upstairs Dave had no idea if that was the case.

Just open the fucking window!
he internally roared after his third or fourth glance back.

He resisted the urge to shatter the glass and after another second of fumbling the latch relented and he slithered through. He tumbled and sprawled awkwardly on the damp ground as his foot caught on the sill. Dave barely felt it though and was on his feet in a second, wheezing as he spun in a quick circle, trying to get his bearings. But the panic didn't give him enough time to even complete one circuit. It demanded motion and Dave obeyed. He took off around the nearest corner of the house, head down, arms flailing, running for all he was worth – although even that still seemed pathetically slow. He just wished it was darker. Wished that the black would swallow him up and give him somewhere to hide.

He emerged into a vista of trees and as the crunch of gravel sounded beneath his feet he realised he'd gone the wrong way. Realised that he was at the back of the house now. That it lay between him and the Tiida.

'Shit!' he hissed under his breath, his voice crackling with panic as he tried to think. He ground to a halt a few metres from the flailing sack as the whimpers
it
was emitting joined his own.

Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shit...
Dave tore at his hair as he spun in a circle, nearly jumping out of his skin as the sack gave a particularly violent kick.

The sound of breaking glass had him whirling to face the rear of the hotel, his eyes darting up to the window of the upstairs room he'd just abandoned.

For a brief second, shock keep him pinned to the spot.

Monty soared down from the second floor, his coat flapping and glass showering around him. The lump of wood – strangely clear of blood now – held up high above his head.

As he hit the ground and headed toward him, Dave only had time to blink and then think:
did that really happen?
And then the lump of wood blotted out everything.

A sickening crunch reached his ears as fireworks exploded throughout his head and Dave crumpled down to the ground next to the squirming sack.

11.

He was lying on something hard. That was the limit of what Dave divined when the loud bang of a slamming door woke him. He started and his eyes darted open but only further darkness met his gaze. After that, other things rushed in to occupy his attention. First a pounding throb started up in the base of his skull and he let out a yelp, then the horrendous smell closed around him and Dave struggled to his knees as vomit exploded from his lips. It spattered wetly across the ground while he knelt gagging, the acrid taste of bile in his mouth somehow preferable to the horrendous stink that surrounded him.

What the fuck is that?

Dave stayed on his hands and knees, gasping while he tried to think but with the smell and the throbbing in his head, his brain just kept misfiring. He had an image of Monty rushing in, swinging the chunk of wood but beyond that there was nothing.

Dave reached up his hand and winced as it made contact with his head. Just back and to the right of the forehead, his hair was slick with wetness. A gentle push showed that it felt strangely springy too. The pain that followed almost made him pass out again.

'Motherfucker!' he hissed and then decided to leave further exploration till later.

After a few seconds of hawking and spitting in a vain attempt to remove the coating the stench had lent to his throat and sinuses, he staggered to his feet and stood unsteadily swaying in place.

What the fuck happened?
He finally managed to get his brain into gear as the surrounding smell dropped back a few notches. Whether that was from the change of position or just his sinuses finally overloading, Dave didn't know.

He took a cautious step forward, swayed and almost fell. He'd never tried walking through such complete darkness before. It was like stepping into a void that seemed to throw his balance completely off. Dave held out his hands as he moved forward. The ground squelched a little beneath his feet and Dave winced as his mind, bereft of other stimuli, started to hurl up options for what might be out there lurking in the dark.

Waiting to rend him limb from...

'Gah!' Dave barely managed to hold back his scream as his fingers dug into something wet and soggy. It felt like pushing through wet cardboard and Dave quickly recoiled, his heart thundering. He took a step back and shook his hand. A gobbet of something slid free and splattered to the ground and Dave whimpered.

He could feel that something wet and filmy still clung to his fingers.

Automatically he brought his fingers to his nose and sniffed. He knew it was a mistake the second before he did so but seemed powerless to stop himself. His sinuses hadn't melted down. That was obvious as the rank stench seared down them, obliterating everything with the sheer strength of its foulness. Dave vomited again, whimpering between gags. As each one rocked his body, his thumping headache jumped up another notch.

Where am I? What's happening?

As if in response to his thoughts, abruptly, everything exploded into bright light.

Dave did scream this time. He pressed his hands to his face, unconcerned by the muck that coated his fingers as the light seared its way into his brain. The agony it triggered felt as though it would make his head explode and it was a good couple of seconds before he could risk removing his hands again.

When he saw what lay in front of him, Dave almost wished the sudden light
had
killed him.

It was beyond nausea. It was beyond shock. What gripped him as he stared around the strange room was beyond anything Dave had ever felt before. Dimly he heard the creaking of hinges from behind but he barely even focused on it, too riveted to the scene of horror in front of him.

The light revealed a strange room. One whose walls, floor and roof all appeared to be constructed from bluestones, but Dave barely even spared them a second glance. It was what the modern bay of fluorescents fixed to the roof revealed that held him transfixed.

Suddenly the horrendous smell started to make a whole lot more sense.

Piles of bodies were stacked around the room. There must have been at least a hundred. They ran the gamut from near mummified to almost liquescent to what looked relatively fresh but all of them shared one trait: their size. Though his reeling brain did not want to contemplate it, as soon as Dave’s eyes fell on the bodies stacked up like cordwood he knew what the small stature meant.

Fuck, they’re kids…
His brain finally managed to latch onto a coherent thought and he tried to look away. There was no reprieve though. Bodies were everywhere and when he looked down, Dave found the reason for the earlier squelching. Puddles of foul liquid, a pus-like, greenish-crimson colour, oozed forth from the decaying mounds, forming an elaborate tributary system in the cracks of the floor.

Strangely enough it was the sight of the mess on the floor that got his mind onto the muck on his fingers. There was no holding back his gorge as he realised what that meant.