It is the desperate wail of the Cicada, surprised in his quietude by the Green Grasshopper, that ardent nocturnal huntress, who springs upon him, grips him in the side, opens and ransacks his abdomen. An orgy of music, followed by butchery.
Jean-Henri Fabre, The Wonders of Instinct
Karl slammed the door behind him. Slid the middle bolt into its niche. Tried calming the tiny jumps in his stomach. Took a couple of deep breaths before shouting into the darkness.
‘Just you and me now, Arnold! No kids. No women. No little girls to take your evil perversions out on. Man-to-man, though we both know you were never a man to begin with. Just a gutless animal, a spineless–’
‘You were in such a hurry to get out, Karl, you forgot something!’ The voice called out from above, loud and powerful, but flat, as though incapable of emotion.
An unmerciful clatter of metal landed at Karl’s feet. He glanced down.
Sweet fuck! The shotgun. What a clown you really are. You know it’s still not too late to turn and run. Do something smart for a change. Think of those who love you – Katie, Naomi. They don’t want a dead hero. They want you back in their arms.
‘I suppose you’ve taken out the shells, Arnold?’
‘Why don’t you pick it up and see for yourself? I’m not an unsporting person.’
The darkness seemed to become denser the longer Karl stood there, debating with himself. He looked down at the shotgun, as though he could determine whether it was still loaded – any indication, no matter how flawed. It looked loaded. It looked empty.
‘Who’s the coward now, Karl, standing there shitting yourself, instead of grabbing the weapon? All of your brave talk is nothing but vanity and chasing after wind. Even that smelly farmer gave more of a fight, before I blasted his fat belly all over the wall. Took him an hour to die, you know. I had a meal in his kitchen while I watched him squirm and twitch.’
Karl buckled his knees, fell onto his shoulder, scooping up the shotgun, and rolled for shelter beside the staircase’s wooden ribs. He waited for his head to be blown into a million pieces of meat, but nothing came.
‘Well, Karl? Is it loaded or not?’
Karl checked. It was loaded.
‘See? Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t unsporting? You owe me big time, Karl. Oh, and don’t forget, I killed Butler for you. The cheek of him, thinking he was going to take my pleasure away. No one gets to kill you. No one except–’
Karl fired towards the voice, moving at the same time to the bottom of the staircase, forcing his feet to take the steps two at a time. He flattened his body out on the second floor landing, out of breath, sweating and gagging on air. He was still alive! He wanted to laugh with joy, scream it out at Arnold.
‘That was dirty of you, Karl. Missed by a mile, but still, very dirty. It seems that I won’t be able to take you alive as I had planned, fuck you in the arse again, the way you loved it, all those years ago.’
Don’t let the bastard screw with your mind. Let him talk his way to his own grave.
‘No answer, Karl? You mother loved it, getting in the arse. Oh, she dearly loved it. I think that’s why you enjoyed it so much, knowing my cock had been up her arse first. Come on now. Tell the truth, shame the devil.’
Arnold was laughing, but it had a dullness to it.
The bastard is hunched down somewhere, hiding. He’s as fucking scared as I am.
Karl crawled along the landing, stopping at the blind spot where the stairs ran into the third floor banisters. The old storage room directly to his left. If he could get in there, it would offer a slight – very slight – advantage.
He took the chance, almost breaking his neck in the process. The shotgun hit the side of the door and went spinning out of his hands, down into the abyss.
For a few seconds, Karl sat immobile, trying to dream up some new strategy. The old wardrobe mirror, in the far corner of the room, reflected his desperation right back at him through the shadows. He hardly recognised himself. He looked terrified. Lost.
‘I hate guns. Too loud. Too vulgar,’ said Arnold, standing at the door, holding the shotgun and a serrated hunting knife. He threw the shotgun at Karl’s feet. ‘Take it. You have one shell left, remember?’
Karl looked at the shotgun. Then at the monster standing before him. Arnold’s face was strapped up with silver duct tape, the spaces in between covered in dried blood, his features barely recognisable as human.
‘Well? What are you waiting for, Karl? Take it. You get one more chance. Make sure your aim is true and–’
Karl rugby-tackled Arnold. They both went flailing backwards, towards the banisters, crashing through them as though they were mere matchsticks. They went hurtling downwards, each grabbing the other in desperation, as if somehow that would save either of them.
In slow motion, Karl watched his life flash in front of him, as he gripped Arnold’s throat.
The sudden impact bounced both men off the mattresses, sending each in a different direction.
‘Argggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh!’ screamed Karl, both legs snapping instantly upon impact. ‘Fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!’
Arnold fared much better, his upper body cascading off the bottom of the stairs, dulling impact. However, he then landed awkwardly, snapping his left wrist and breaking three fingers. He moaned but, unlike Karl, he did not scream.
Karl felt consciousness leaving him. The blackest ink seemed to be seeping into every part of him. Strangely, he could no longer feel pain, as if he had destroyed that particular barrier and it could no long hold any power over him.
Arnold dragged himself over to Karl, knife in hand. Like Karl, he could barely breath and was taking great gulps of dusty air into his lungs, making him cough and splutter. He placed the knife under Karl’s throat.
Arnold seemed to be saying things, but Karl only saw a mouth moving in soundless syllables. His eyelids were becoming heavier and heavier, his will to live and fight quickly ebbing away.
Behind Arnold, someone appeared. A girl? A woman? She was holding a cutthroat razor. She was wearing that sweater.
‘Mum…?’
She was smiling down at Karl, but not in a nice way. The last thing Karl remembered was warm blood. So much of it. Stinging his eyes. Filling his mouth. He was swallowing it, choking on it…
Hidden in the midst of brambly bushes across from the house, Dorothy watched as a stream of police cars snaked up the hilly path. Some of the cars were having difficulty navigating the mucky road.
‘Look, King. We’re safe now. Here come the police.’
King wagged its tail, but kept its eyes trained on the front door.
‘I know, King. I wish Karl would hurry up too. I wonder what’s keeping him?’
Just then, the door opened. A figure stepped out. Covered in blood.
‘Tara!’ Dorothy ran towards her. Wrapped her arms around her waist. ‘You didn’t leave me after all!’
Tara hugged her tightly. ‘I told you I would never leave you, didn’t I?’
‘Yes…’
‘Now you’ve got to listen to me, for one last time.’
‘Okay.’
‘Soon, you’ll be home. Home with people that love you.’
‘I know, but aren’t you coming with me? They’ll love you, as well as me.’
‘I can’t go with you, Dorothy. I’ve…I have people who love me too. I can’t let them down.’
‘You’re my best friend. You can’t leave me.’
‘Listen, I don’t have much time. Do you really love me, Dorothy? I mean, really love me?’
‘Yes! You know I do, Tara.’
‘They’re going to ask you questions about me.’
‘Who, Tara? Who’s going to ask me questions?’
‘Everyone. The police, newspapers, your family. You mustn’t tell them anything. Do you understand? I would be in trouble if you do.’
‘Trouble? What kind of trouble?’
‘Big, big trouble. They’d put me back in Blackmore for ever and ever. They’d beat me every night. Do bad things to me. Is that what you want?’
‘No! I won’t let them take you away. I won’t!’
‘Then you mustn’t tell them anything.’
‘I…I won’t, Tara. I won’t.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise.’
Tara gave Dorothy a long hug, and then kissed her cheek.
‘I’ll always be watching over you, Dorothy. Never forget that.’
Dorothy watched Tara disappearing into the forest, the rain following behind her like a giant cloak of darkness. She watched until there was nothing more to watch, and then she began sobbing.