The Bug: Complete Season One (21 page)

“Hmm?” said Moira, raising a grey eyebrow.

“Don’t suppose you’ve still got them guns, have you?”

Moira looked offended. “What do you take me for?” she sniffed. “Of course I still have them!”

“Good stuff,” said Hoon. “Can you bring some in?”

Moira beamed and straightened her shoulders, like this was her moment to shine. “How many?”

Hoon thought for a moment.  He rubbed his tongue across the front of his teeth. “All of them,” he said.

Jaden stood at the bottom of the stairs and peered up into the gloom. They’d agreed to keep most of the lights off, but a faint glow spilled out across the ceiling from one of the rooms upstairs. “Mom?” he said. “Are you up there?”

“Well, she’s not down here,” said Col, joining him. “Amy and I checked everywhere.”

“She came inside, right?” Jaden asked. “She definitely came inside?”

“Yes, of course she came inside,” said Amy. “She was in the kitchen, like, five minutes ago. You were talking to her.”

Jaden nodded. “Right. Yeah. Well… maybe she’s taking a dump,” he said. “Mom? You taking a dump?”

“She’s hardly going to answer if she is, is she?” said Col.

“Why not?”

“Well, you don’t talk when you’re taking a dump, do you?” Col said.

Jaden looked confused. “Why not? Hell, I sing when I’m doing it.”

“Look, let’s just go up and look,” snapped Amy.

Jaden recoiled in horror. “I’m not watching my mom taking a shit!”

“No! Jesus! I mean let’s check if the bathroom door’s closed,” Amy said.

“Oh,” said Jaden. “Oh. Yeah. Let’s do that.”

The stairs creaked and groaned as they all crept up. Jaden began to hum quietly. Col recognized the tune as the theme to a horror movie, but couldn’t place which one.

Jaden stopped humming when he reached the top of the stairs. His mom was standing halfway along the landing, gazing down at the floor of the room that had the light on. She didn’t react when Jaden and the others arrived at the top of the stairs. Instead, she just stared into the room. And stared. And stared.

“Hey. Mom.”

Amanda’s lips moved a fraction, like there were words inside her somewhere, but they weren’t yet ready to come out.

“She’s shaking,” said Amy.

“What’s she looking at?” Col wondered.

“Don’t know. Seems to be pretty damn interesting, though,” Jaden said. “Mom? What you looking at?”

Sighing, Amy pushed past the boys and marched along the landing. “Hey, uh, Amanda?” she said. “What’s the matter with…?”

Amy glanced into the room and the rest of the sentence dried up in her throat. She tried to shout – to scream – but her lungs didn’t want to push any air out.

She stumbled back towards the stairs, not daring to turn away from the bathroom door and the horrors that lurked just beyond. She’d killed her own parents – driven the handle of a ladle right through her mom’s throat – but this… This was something else entirely.

“What is it?” Col asked, glancing from Amy to Amanda to the bathroom door. “What’s she looking at.”

Amy shook her head. There were no words she could find to describe it. “G-go look,” was all she managed.

Col looked at her for several long seconds as his brain tried to come up with a plausible reason why his taking a look was a bad idea. Nothing was immediately springing to mind, though. “Yeah,” he croaked. He took hold of Jaden’s sleeve. “We should take a look.”

“Fine, yeah, I’ll come. Whatever,” said Jaden, less confidently than he’d intended. “Sure thing. It’s not a problem.”

He and Col crept incredibly slowly towards the door. Jaden kept his gaze fixed on his mom, feeling his heart rate increase as the space between them grew smaller.

Col looked back over his shoulder at Amy, searching for some clue as to what they were about to see, but she didn’t meet his eye, just kept staring at the doorway, her head shaking ever so slightly from side to side.

“Jesus. What is it?” he muttered. He and Jaden stopped outside the bathroom. It took a moment to figure out what they were looking at.

A man lay stretched out on the bathroom floor. Dead. Definitely dead. It would be impossible, Col’s racing mind decided, to be any deader.

The man - in his fifties, Jaden guessed, though his current situation made it difficult to be sure – had been cut in half from top to bottom, splitting him into two perfectly even parts. The wound – although that word hardly seemed to do it justice - looked surgical in its precision, the cut running cleanly down the center of the man’s face from the top of his head, splitting him all the way to the groin.

The halves had been pushed apart by almost a meter or so, but where there should have been a gloop of blood, guts and other innards pooling in the space between them, there was nothing but shiny bathroom floor tiles.

Col stared at the dead man. His stomach tightened. He bent double and vomited what little he still had in his stomach all over the carpet at his feet. For once, Jaden had no wisecracks to offer, not even when Col’s puke splashed up over his shoes. Instead, he slowly leaned forward and pulled the bathroom door closed.

Cutting the man off from view seemed to snap Amanda out of her trance. She blinked, frowned, then looked around, her dark skin now an ash gray. “What… what happened to that man?” she said.

“I don’t know, but I think we picked the wrong house,” Jaden said. “We should find somewhere else. Right?”

He looked at the others. Amanda and Col both just stared back, like they couldn’t figure out what he was asking. Amy gave a brief but decisive nod. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, let’s get out of here before--”

Thump.

The sudden sound stopped Amy in mid-sentence. All four of them drew in a breath and held it. Held it. Held it.

For a long time, there was no noise on the landing but the occasional creaking of the floorboards beneath Amanda as she rocked anxiously from foot to foot. They had almost convinced themselves that they’d imagined it when another noise came. This was a low scraping sound, like something hard and sharp digging into wood. As the scraping and scratching grew faster and faster, the pictures hanging on the landing walls began to rattle and shake.

“What is that?” Amanda whispered. She spun on the spot. “Where is it coming from?”

“I don’t know!” Jaden said.

“I think I do,” said Col, his voice barely more than a whisper. He swallowed. He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself.

Then, slowly – ever so slowly – he looked up.

May 25th, 11:49 AM

Hoon braked sharply outside the wrought iron gates, and tutted as the soldiers on the other side snapped their rifles up and took aim.

“Check out this pair o’ arseholes,” he said. “Think they’re the fucking A-Team.”

He reached into the back seat for the rifle Moira had given him. From the passenger seat, Leanne shot him a worried look. “Is that wise?” she whispered, so as not to wake Immy, who was fast asleep in her arms.

Hoon had sent Leanne through to Moira’s spare room, insisting she should get a couple of hours sleep, too, but she’d managed maybe forty-five minutes, and had woken up feeling more tired than ever.

“If they see you with that, they might shoot you,” she pointed out, yawning.

Hoon shrugged. “They might, aye,” he admitted, throwing open the door. “But fingers crossed they don’t, eh?”

The soldiers kept their weapons on him as he stepped out of the car. Behind him, Marshall pulled up with Daniel and Moira, but kept the engine running as Hoon had instructed.

“Put down the gun,” barked one of the men beyond the gate.

“What gun?” said Hoon. He looked down at the rifle in his hands, acting surprised, like he was only just noticing it. “Oh, you mean this gun? Naw. I think I’ll hang onto it.”

“Put it down. Now!” ordered the other man, squinting to peer down the sights of his own weapon.

“Keep your fucking beret on, ye jackboot-wearing prick,” Hoon said, so matter-of-factly that it took both men by surprise. “And open the gate, we’ve got a young lassie and a baby here.”

The soldiers peered into the car, then back at Hoon. “Put down the gun or we
will
open fire.”

“Just you fucking try it, son,” Hoon said. He held up his ID. “DCI Hoon, Police Scotland. You put your guns down or you’re both under arrest.”

The men exchanged a glance. “What?” one of them asked.

“You heard. Has Marshall Law been declared?” Hoon asked, drilling into both men with his boggle-eyed stare. “Hmm? Has someone put the military in charge of law and order in this fair country of ours? Did that happen when I wasn’t looking?”

“Well, I mean… not officially,” one of the soldiers admitted.

Hoon stepped right up to the gate and scowled at both men through it. “Right. In that case, get your guns out of my face, put your cocks away, and open this fucking gate.” He raised his badger eyebrows. “Am I making myself clear?”

Ten minutes later, Hoon and the others stood in a lavishly grand entrance hall, flanked on all sides by armed troops. Leanne, holding the blissfully unaware Immy, stood in the middle, with Hoon, Daniel, Marshall and Moira forming a protective square around them. All four of them carried rifles, shotguns or, in Daniel’s case, an UZI submachine gun, taken from Moira’s impressive, yet at the same time deeply worrying, personal armory.

Marshall let out a low whistle as he looked around the hallway. The walls were all done in a dark, polished wood, which matched the reception desk and the two long coffee tables which were nestled between some antique-looking leather couches.

Above them hung an extravagant chandelier, all dangly crystals and swooping curves of white metal. Marshall nodded up at it. “Nice, eh?”

Hoon’s eyes flicked to the chandelier for a few fleeting seconds. “That thing? Wouldn’t give it fucking house room,” he said, turning his attention back to the soldiers.

“Nightmare to clean, too,” said Moira. “Know the girl who used to have to do it. Lovely lass. Moved to London shortly after she turned twenty. Parents both died when she was young. Cancer, the pair of them.” She shrugged. “Mind you, she’s probably dead now, too, of course.”

Daniel puffed out his cheeks. “Well that conversation took quite a depressing turn.”

A set of arched doors over by the reception desk opened and a man with grey hair at his temples and gold pips on his shoulders came strutting through like he owned the place.

“That’s Sweeney,” Marshall whispered. “He’s in charge.”

“No’ any more he’s no’,” Hoon said.

Sweeney smiled as he approached the group. “Ah, Mr… Marshall, wasn’t it?” he said.

“Detective Inspector Marshall, actually,” said Hoon. “He works for me. And you are?”

The officer’s smile didn’t falter. He held Hoon’s gaze with no sign of flinching. “Lieutenant Sweeney. Jack.” He held out a hand. Hoon took it, and both men squeezed hard as they shook.

“Detective Chief Inspector Hoon,” Hoon said, lingering on the word, “chief”.

Once they’d finished trying to out-squeeze one another, Sweeney folded his hands crisply behind his back. Hoon nodded towards the other soldiers, who all watched on silently, guns lowered but very much on show.

“What you lot doing holed up in here, then?” he asked. “Hiding, is it?”

“Regrouping,” said Sweeney. “It’s been a rough night.”

“Aye, you can say that again,” Hoon said. He looked around at the four doors all leading off in different directions from the hall. “There a bar in this place?”

Sweeney nodded. His fixed smiled broadened, just a little. “I’ve set up my office in there. Purely for observation purposes, you understand? Big windows, gives a clear view of the gardens and the driveway.” He rocked back on his heels. “The collection of fifty-year-old whiskies is really just a bonus.”

“I’ll bet,” said Hoon.

“I hope you’ll all join me. It’d be useful to swap notes,” said Sweeney.

“Aye, sounds good to me,” said Marshall, rubbing his hands together.

Hoon snorted. “Nice try, Marshall. You and…”

“Daniel,” Daniel sighed.

“You two get Leanne and the wee one settled into one of the rooms.” He turned to Sweeney. “You checked them all, aye?”

“We did. Full sweep. There’s a nice suite on the first floor. Some of my men can take her up.”

“No, you’re alright, this pair will do it,” Hoon said. He fixed his gaze on Marshall and Daniel in turn. “Get her settled in. Keep an eye. I’m putting you two in charge of making sure they stay safe. Do not fuck this up.”

“It’s fine,” said Leanne. “We’re OK. You don’t have to worry about us.”

“I know I don’t,” said Hoon, leaning in and whispering conspiratorially. “But I’ve got to give them something to do or there’s no saying what they’ll get up to. Keep them out of my hair, eh?”

Leanne half-grinned. “Ten four, boss.”

“You coming with me?” Hoon asked his sister. Moira shook her head.

“Thought I’d go take a look around. Lived four miles up the road for years and could never be arsed popping in. May as well explore a little now.”

Hoon nodded. “Aye. Well try and no’ hurt anyone, eh?”

“Bob,” Moira said, sounding offended. “You know me.”

“Aye,” Hoon said. “That’s why I said it. Now,” he continued, turning back to Sweeney. “Lead the way. That whisky collection’s no’ going to observe itself.”