“Davy.”
Campbell searched for his name among the bloodied faces. All these people reaching for him, clutching at him, pulling him down with them.
Who had spoken his name? Those men with the shaven heads and tattoos? No, they were dead years ago, broken into pieces in a cold concrete room. What did they want with him now? Their faces blazed in ecstasy.
What do you want? His lips moved, he felt them, but no sound came.
Something nudged his foot.
“Here, Davy.”
Campbell tried to raise himself, but his body split in two. His core spilled out from him as he moved. Oh yes, the shotgun. It had torn him open. Cool air seeped into the place where his stomach had been.
He forced everything into his neck, lifting his head to see the voice. Hurricanes roared in his ears and his skin burned. A shape emerged from the fire, tall and thin.
Gerry Fegan.
He had something shiny and beautiful in his hand.
“They want you, Davy,” he said.
“Who?” Campbell asked, his voice a thin hiss.
Fegan pointed to the tattooed men. They grinned at Campbell and he wanted to scream, but there was no air.
“The UFF boys you set up,” Fegan said. “The ones you had me kill to cover your own tracks. It’s time to pay, Davy.”
Fire turned to ice and tremors spread out from Campbell’s center. He recognised the shining thing in Fegan’s hand and heard its hammer click into place.
“Fuck you,” he said.
“Everybody pays,” Fegan said as the revolver’s muzzle stared Campbell in the eye. “Sooner or later, everybody pays.”
Fury tore at Campbell’s heart. He wanted to taste Fegan’s blood, feel his flesh burst and split beneath his fingers, but the blackness flooded in.
The UFF boys leaned close, grinning and hateful. The other faces, the bodies, the limbs, all dead and rotting, swarmed on him. One form moved closest, a tattered hole in his forehead, the sergeant’s insignia still on his epaulettes.
Sergeant Hendry?
The long-dead soldier sank his teeth into Campbell’s skin, tearing at the remains of his body.
Fegan towered above them all.
“Fuck you!” Campbell screamed. “Fucking do it! Do it now. Pull the fucking trigger. Come on, pull it. Shoot me. Pull the—”