Sudden Death Page 5

  *

  Radley was a small village that bordered the counties of Cambridgeshire and Norfolk. It was a tightly built settlement with a church square, a duck pond that had given into the advancing moss and water-weeds, and a pub. A few cottages created a small High Street. And that was about the size and structure of Radley. A hamlet in the middle of nowhere. A speck of dust on an OS map. Irrelevant but for the people who had been born here, and would no doubt, die here.

  “Here is the pub,” said the woman as she tried to lighten the terrible atmosphere in the car. “I’ll just park up and you can come inside.”

  The young woman brought the small car to a halt in the pub car park. The three of them got out and the woman asked them to come inside. “My name is Maddie. Maddie Tyler,” the woman said cautiously.

  “Mark and Julia,” said Mark, trying to keep as calm as his nerves would allow him; which was hard for anyone who had just seen a young girl’s head meet a high velocity bullet with horrific consequences, as well as losing two friends. Julia looked like she was in shock, and Mark ushered her into the pub.

  The pub was closed. It didn’t open at lunch since there wasn’t any business at this time of day. And Mark could see why. The whole village was dead; a half-lost sort of place. A place that just about existed.

  Maddie took off her coat and she helped Julia to sit down at a table.

  “Can we use your phone?” asked Mark. “I really do need to call the police and urgently.”

  Maddie walked behind the pub counter, seemingly oblivious to Mark’s pleas. “You just sit there and let me get you a drink. You look as if you could both do with one.”

  The young woman produced two brandy glasses, and filled each with a shot. “The phone is upstairs. I’ll call the police now.” She handed the frightened young couple a drink each. “Now you stay here.”

  Maddie walked upstairs, the aged stairway creaking with each step. They heard her footsteps above, pacing across a room.

  Something suddenly went ‘ting’ from behind the bar. Julia seemed to come alive and flinched. Mark stood up and located the source of the bell-sound.

  A phone. Beneath the bar-top was a phone.

  Mark picked it up carefully and heard Maddie talking.

  “....but what shall I do with them?” asked Maddie desperately. “I’m not used to this kind of stuff. I don’t know what to do.”

  An educated male voice, cold and precise, said, “You stall them for as long as you can. I’ll get Jake and Paul out there to deal with the situation right now. Okay?”

  “Please hurry,” said Maddie as she seemed to grow more despondent. “Get here soon before they grow suspicious.”

  “Tell them that you’ve called the police. We need to keep them there. They’ve seen too much. They know too much,” said the male voice forcefully. “Jake will be there shortly.”

  “Okay,” said Maddie as she capitulated to the man’s promise. “I’ll hold them.”

  “Good girl,” said the man, and Maddie put the phone down. At the same time, Mark careful put the phone down.

  Mark raced from behind the bar and grabbed Julia. “We’ve been setup. This Maddie woman is one of them; one of that gang of maniacs. We need to get out of this place quickly. Come on!”

  Mark pulled Julia to her feet and together, they ran through the lounge and made for the front door. Mark tried to open it, but it was locked. Mark rattled the door but it had been locked and there was no key.

  “That’s enough of that,” said Maddie as she slowly came down the stairs, levelling a double-barrelled shotgun at Mark’s head. “Now you get back in the bar and sit down. Go on!”

  Mark’s face went blank and his mouth opened, but he couldn’t find any words. His eyes were intent on the muzzle of the gun, so he gradually moved backwards, pulling his girlfriend with him.

  “Now sit over there,” ordered Maddie. “And don’t think I won’t use this because I will. So don’t give me cause to.”

  Mark and Julia sat down at the table. “What the hell is this all about?

  Maddie smiled. It was the sort of smile that was lost between that of low intelligence and sadism. Maddie held the shotgun in a solid grip. It wasn’t the right time for any sudden moves.

  “We all work for the manor owner. Each month he pays us well to make sure we keep any witnesses out of the place.”

  “Witnesses?” cried Julia uncomfortably. “What do you mean by witnesses?”

  Maddie laughed. “It’s for when all the posh people pay to have their hunt. That’s what they do up there. They hunt live people for fun.”

  Mark looked at the young woman with diminishing disbelief. “So that woman who was being chased by those maniacs – the same ones that killed our two friends, are hunters who pay to kill people for sport? Who are these people that they hunt?”

  Maddie shrugged as if human life didn’t matter. “Runways, the homeless, drug addicts - the dregs, basically. They treat them nice and keep them happy then release them for the rich people to hunt them. It’s very popular. We’ve had a lot of corporate people recently. They were very well-to-do people that love to hunt. And they always pay well.”

  Mark shook his head in horror. It was complete madness, brutal insanity. And this woman was stood there as if she was finding a sense of humour in the sadism this village was turning a blind eye to. And what was even more disturbing was that innocent-looking Maddie was evidently enjoying it.

  Outside, the sound of a strained diesel engine came closer. It stopped and a handbrake rattled on its ratchet.

  “Looks like Jake and Paul are here,” said Maddie joyously. “Now, you’re for it. I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes now.”

  She took her eyes off Mark as she heard footsteps at the door. She went to get her key when Mark threw a bar stool at her. The weighty object hit its mark squarely and knocked Maddie backwards. She discharged the gun into the ceiling, shattering the light and damaging the beam.

  Julia screamed as Mark hurled himself at Maddie, swinging a solid right hook into her face. The punch connected well. A sickening crunch of nasal bone sounded on impact, knocking her out cleanly. She fell awkwardly against the wall, and dropped the gun. Mark picked it up just as Jake kicked the door in.

  There was the flash of steel in the daylight. A man holding a knife appeared. The obese bulk of Jake filled the doorway, almost blotting out the light. “Looks like we meet again, matey,” said Jake with fake bonhomie. He looked down at Maddie and tut-tutted. “Oh, Maddie – you stupid little bitch.” There was no end to the man’s contempt.

  Mark suddenly dived for the gun and rolled as Jake screamed towards him. The long blade of the knife caught Mark’s arm and slashed him. He let out a cry as he rammed his full weight against Jake, sending him off balance. The big man careered like a disorientated bull into the table, knocking it onto its side. The pain tore up Mark’s arm as he lost his footing. But Jake found his bearings fast and raised the knife as he prepared for a second charge. In both panic and desperation, Mark brought the shotgun into play, almost overbalancing in the process. Julia had fallen to the floor, and was back-peddling into a corner for safety. Jake let out a cry of anger and Mark knew that it was now or never and fired. One shot left, it blew half of Jake’s head away, spattering the walls with blood and brain tissue. The big man seemed to half-spin and fell to the floor, dead. Julia screamed as she saw what the shotgun had done. It was an horrific sight that she would never forget.

  Panting and clutching his arm, Mark dropped to the floor and checked the dead man’s pockets. He found two more cartridges.

  He broke the shotgun open and, painfully, reloaded it.

  Outside, Jake’s Land Rover started up, and when Mark looked out of the window, he saw Jake’s friend Paul, quickly backing-up and then drive away. He had obviously heard the shots, and not seeing his friend Jake emerge from the pub, had guessed that it
had all gone wrong.

  Clutching the gun, Mark dragged Julia to her feet. He was brutal but had no other choice. “Come on, we need to get out of here fast.”

  The young couple raced through the broken door and out into the car park. Mark pulled Julia towards the centre of the village square, just beyond the church as a couple of dark Range Rovers came racing down the narrow lane. Side by side, they clearly intended to cut off their escape and mow them both down.

  “This way,” cried Mark, and dragged Julia towards the church. He made for the gate and kicked it open. The pathway was long and they scuffed the layered gravel. Behind them, tyres screeched to a halt. Doors opened and slammed shut. Mark had no time to waste and rammed the church door. It creaked on its aged hinges and Mark and Julia literally threw themselves inside.

  Sanctuary!

  Past the pews they ran, the shotgun butt banging against their aged wood. They ran towards the pulpit, hoping for a rear door. They found one, but it was locked. It was a firm, heavy wood door and there was no way it could be kicked in.

  “Oh shit! Shit!” cursed Mark when he found that it wouldn’t budge. He banged the door in anger just as a vicar appeared.

  “Normally I wouldn’t allow a voice of profanity in here, my friend, but under the circumstances, I’d say it was purely forgivable.”

  The couple spun as the vicar drew nearer. He was an elderly man, very avuncular in his demeanour. And he politely asked them to sit down.

  “We’re being chased by some killers,” said Julia in sheer terror. “They killed our friends. We need to contact the police.”

  The vicar sighed. “I am so sorry, so very sorry.”

  Sensing the vicar’s noncommittal approach to their panic, Mark felt something was terribly wrong. It was as if the vicar was almost smirking at them; like he was finding mirth in their evident fear.

  “Well, aren’t you going to help us?” cried Mark “What is this place? It’s like a fucking madhouse!”

  The vicar shrugged dismissively. “I’m afraid there is little that I can do for you,” he said. “Why did you come here?”

  Just then, the church door opened and the killers walked slowly inside. Masks removed, they advanced with their rifles levelled at their targets.

  The vicar let out a sorrowful sigh. “It would appear that the hunters have found their quarry and there is nowhere for you to run.”

  “What is this?” begged Julia. “What is this all about?”

  A tall, elegantly dressed man parted the group. The hunters moved aside to let the man through. They moved aside with a sense of reverence and respect. He looked imposing; imperious through breeding and a distinguished lineage. The group gave him immediate deference. And when he spoke, he spoke as if he’d been expensively educated. He was evidently gentry, a cut way above the rest.

  “I do apologise for this,” said the elegantly dressed man, “but you simply saw something that you shouldn’t have. It was just bad luck, an ill-fated moment in your life that has now, alas, brought us all to this insane predicament.”

  Mark clutched the shotgun and pointed it at him. “You sick murderous bastards. You killed Tom and Melissa and that girl – that frightened girl back there.” His nerves were shattered and Julia was holding his arm, which was now coursing with blood from Jake’s knife attack.

  “The young lady was called Gracie,” said the elegant man is if lamenting her loss. “She came from the streets, a mere lost soul from a city that will never miss her.”

  “And this is what you do for sport? Hunt poor and vulnerable people,” said Mark as his eyes filled with tears at both the pain and the hopelessness of the situation.

  “I offer them money and a chance to escape,” said the man. “By-the-way, my name is Sir Miles Keaton. I am the landowner of this place. And these villagers are on my payroll, hence their unwavering loyalty.”

  Just then, a woman’s voice screamed out from the front of the church door. “Kill them – kill both of them!”

  It was the waitress from the cafe. She stormed into the church, her fists bunched. “They killed my Jake, killed my boy! I want them dead – dead!”

  Sir Miles Keaton swore softly beneath his breath and ordered two of the group to take her outside. Two burly men took hold of the hysterical woman’s arm and pulled her towards the front door and dragged her out into the church yard. The screams continued for a minute then quietened abruptly. It was an uneasy moment, and the atmosphere grew disturbing. An air of tension seemed to hang over the group, and their murderous faces gazed intently at their cornered quarry.

  “She will be suitably compensated,” said Keaton implacably, as he waved a dismissive hand. “Christ, without me this village would have gone under years ago.”

  “And that’s the truth of it,” explained the vicar thoughtfully. “We were finished; dying until we were all offered a salary to help Mr Keaton in his enterprise. And now, we are like a miniature boom-town. Isolated and inviolate; yet we are happy and progressive.”

  Mark shook his head. “You’re crazy. You’re nothing but screwed-up dark ages people. You’re just killers. You’re nothing more than cold bloodied murderers.”

  Keaton sat down on the first pew and crossed his legs casually. “These people here have paid a lot of money to hunt. And I give them that opportunity. I provide that service. Of course, killing animals is a sport, but hunting humans is a true challenge. Humans have the opportunity to fight back, to do battle with fate. You killed Jake. Now that was impressive. Of course, his mother will take some time to get over his death, but what you did was amazing. Not many people could deal with Jake.”

  “I had to – he was going to kill me,” countered Mark angrily. “Do you think I wanted that? Do you think I wanted to kill him? It was self defence!”

  Keaton went silent. It was as if he had decided to bring this conversation to a close. The vicar gently reached out towards the shotgun and took it from Mark’s shaking hand. Blood had pooled the floor where he stood. The wound on his arm was far worse than he thought.

  “Ah, it’s sad. It’s a quandary. But rules are rules,” said Keaton as if in deep personal deliberation. He made a face, as if he was pondering something important. “This group have paid to kill a woman, not a man. And you spoiled the whole day today for everyone, just turning up like that. You have created such a dilemma for me. Oh what to do, dear boy? Oh what to do?”

  Mark sank to his knees as he grew weaker. He felt completely drained of energy. “Please, help me. For god’s sake, will you help me? I need medical attention – you can’t leave me like this!”

  Keaton looked at the young man’s pale and bloodless lips. He reached into his pocket and took at a large automatic pistol. “I’ve never tried this gun out. I bought it last year. I bought it brand new from my supplier. It’s a Desert Eagle .50 and it’s a monster of a gun. If you hadn’t let Jake cut you like that, then perhaps you could have been our next quarry. But since we haven’t got a doctor here, and to take you to a hospital would invite some awkward questions, then, there is nothing more that I can do.”

  Keaton suddenly raised the .50 automatic and blew the top of Mark’s head away. He simply killed Mark as if it was an ordinary, everyday act. It was almost as if murder was perfunctory.

  Julia screamed and dropped instinctively beside him, holding his dead body as it collapsed to the ground.

  “Sorry about the curtains, vicar,” said Keaton solemnly. “I’ll have them replaced for you. We can’t leave them in that gory state for your next service. It’s simply not on, is it?”

  Julia was sobbing on her knees as she sensed a pair of feet draw close, and then she felt the nip of an injection and a sudden surge of fluid. And then the inside of the church wiggled and misted and then she was plunged into a drugged darkness. The last thing she recalled was the smell of the polished wooden floor and the zig-zag parqueting, and then there was
nothing, nothing at all.

  *

  When Julia woke it was dark. A faint light bulb gave some pitiful illumination, but not much. She was lying on a cold stone floor. She slowly saw everything come into focus and saw she was in some kind of prison cell. Drugged and still groggy, she started to remember what had happened. Tears dashed her reddened eyes. She tried to stand but couldn’t. She was shackled and the steel loops that held her were firmly bolted into the ground.

  “Ah, I see you are awake,” said a familiar, well-educated voice. “Please check your belt. It is a money belt. And inside it you will find a thousand pounds. But for now, try to get as much rest as you can. Tomorrow will be a busy day and you’ll need your strength.”

  “No!” cried Julia hysterically. “No-No-No!”

  She felt the waist belt on her dirty denims. The belt was bulky with something. She fingered the zipper and slowly drew it back, and felt her heart sink when she saw that the belt was packed with a series of twenty pound notes.

  “Tomorrow is your turn to be chased,” said Keaton through the small speaker system above her head. “Tomorrow is your special day. And the hunting group are looking forward to it. You are a rarity. We’ve never hunted a university student before. We found a student union card in your bag, Julia. I’m sure you don’t mind me calling you Julia?”

  Julia slumped back in hopelessness. She tried to shut out the disembodied voice with her fingers in her ears, but it was no use. She couldn’t stop it; she couldn’t shut out that sadistic and cultured voice as it seemed to seep into her body from all sides. Divested of all hope, she gently sobbed herself into the endless nightmare and closed her eyes. And in her mind she saw herself running and screaming into the darkened woods, just as the killers closed in behind her.

  Author’s Note

  I do hope that you enjoyed this work. If you did, please be sure to write a review on Amazon or spread the word on Facebook/Twitter. I would be very grateful for your reviews and support.

  Thank you for reading my work.

 

  Other books by Amy Peters

  Novels:

  Internecine

  Collected Short Fiction:

  Road killers

  About The Author

  Amy Peters is a pen-name. By profession Amy is a freelance copywriter, journalist, and technical author. She is highly creative and has worked for such companies as IBM, Torex, iSoft and Whitbread in a variety of IT roles. She now works alone and enjoys writing crime novels.

  Catch her on twitter:

  https://www.twitter.com/amyauthoress