Evil Lurking Within

  © Matt Shaw

  The right of Matt Shaw to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any format without written consent from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for insertion in a magazine, newspaper or broadcast.

  The characters, and story, in this book are purely fictitious. Any likeness to person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  With thanks to MARK KELLY for his work on the cover

  For what you are about to read: Blame Mandy Hartley

  FROM THE SAME AUTHOR

  Novels

  The Infestation

  The Lost Son

  Love Life

  The Vampire’s Treaty

  (The Peter Chronicles)

  Happy Ever After

  G.S.O.H Essential

  A Fresh Start

  PETER

  All Good Things

  9 Months Book One

  9 Months Book Two

  9 Months Book Three

  Non-Fiction titles

  im fine

  Still Fine

  PlentyOfFreaks

  Wasting Stamps

  Self-publishing: Releasing your book to the digital market

  Collections

  Scribblings From a Dark Place

  9 Months Trilogy

  Happy Ever After Trilogy

  Reviews, Critics & Mystery Shopping (DELETED TITLE)

  The Story Collection: Volume One

  The Story Collection: Volume Two

  Shorts

  A Taste of Your Fears (part of the Literature-Ly You range)

  A Taste of Your Fears 2 (part of the Literature-Ly You range)

  Novellas

  Smile

  The Dead Don’t Knock

  Writer’s Block

  Buried

  The Last Stop

  The Chosen Routes

  A Christmas to Remember (YOU choose the story)

  Romance is Dead

  The Breakdown

  The Cabin

  The 8th

  The Cabin II: Asylum

  The Missing Years of Thomas Pritchard

  Consumed

  Influenza: Strain ‘Z’

  Picture Books

  I Hate Fruit & Veg

  Want to find Matt Shaw?

  www.facebook.com/mattshawpublications

  www.mattshawpublications.co.uk

  matt@mattshawpublications.co.uk

  EVIL LURKING WITHIN

  PROLOGUE

  December 18th:

  I don’t tend to feel my emotions in the same way others feel their own. Lacking empathy, I guess you could say I’m not the most compassionate of beings. I see old people struggle with bags of shopping and a little piece of me can’t help but to laugh despite knowing that, one day, I’ll be in their shoes. People trip over in the streets - whether it’s crossing the road or simply walking somewhere, I always burst out laughing. Sometimes I even play through the scenario in my mind, days later, only to cause more uncontrollable laughter. In fact, I think it’s fair to say I’m one of those people who enjoy the general misfortunes of others. It doesn’t even matter on their circumstances. At a guess, if I had to say why I’m like this, I’d say it’s because it makes my life that little bit easier to cope with; my dead-end job with low wages, my rented accommodation which looks pretty from the outside but is in a state of disrepair internally, the less said about my love-life the better and a pathetic, ever-shrinking social circle. They say that once you’ve paid for your crimes with a stint inside, that that is it - all is forgiven. But it’s not. You’re forever marked. Tainted.

  Anyway, that’s not important right now. Despite my lacking empathy this is pulling at my heart-strings. In a way I’m glad. It shows that I’m still human in some ways. Even though, in a sick way, I’m glad to be feeling his suffering, I’m doing all that I can not to show it. I’m pulling out all the stops, everything in my power, to stay in control. I have to. I need to let him know that he has nothing to fear and that everything will be alright. Admittedly it’s a blatant lie but he doesn’t need to know that. It will only make things harder. I can’t promise it to him, should he ask. For all I know nothing will be right for him ever again and this could change things for the both of us. I looked at his teary eyes and wondered whether I was supposed to hug him now; positive body language offering comfort to help back my empty words up.

  “Will they be better for Christmas?” Tom asked.

  I’m not sure how old Tom is. Seven? Eight maybe? A cute kid if you like that sort of thing. Kids were never high on my list of priorities but then, that’s to be expected having spent the last eight years locked up in a small cell. You tend to put the idea of partners and families out of your mind - even more so if, like me, you didn’t have them when you originally went inside. He looks sharp in his school uniform; still wearing it from when I had picked him up from school. Red eyes, from his tears let his appearance down ever so slightly but - given the circumstances - that’s to be expected. I knew he was going to cry. He was always going to struggle with the news of his mum and dad’s accident. Any kid would. At that age, even I think I would have been upset. I didn’t lose my compassion and empathy towards others until after my stint inside.

  “I’m not sure,” I told him. There was no point in lying. Not about that. For all I know he could be with me until well into the new year. That being said, everything could be back to normal by the holidays; he’ll be back at home with his parents and I’ll be living it up somewhere nice and hot overseas. Wishful thinking perhaps.

  “I want to go home.”

  “I’m sorry but you can’t go home at the moment. Your dad said you were to come home with me. Just for a bit. Just whilst they get better...”

  “Can I see them?”

  “Not yet. They need to get better. Soon though. We can go and see them soon. At the moment, though, they’re very poorly and need some quiet whilst they sleep. They told me to tell you that they love you very much though.”

  He started to cry again. I wish I knew what to do. I wish I knew the best way to handle this. My diseased mind telling me it would be easier just to drug him but I wanted to avoid that for as long as I could. After all, I don’t know if he suffers from any allergies which may cause a fatal reaction to whatever drug I’d be able to score from the black market. There should be a little book of instructions for this kind of thing, something which explains the most effective way to look after children. Especially considering that I’ve never been good with them - not even under normal circumstances. Until recently I’ve never needed to be and, until now anyway, I’ve never wanted to go be good with them. I’m not usually very kiddy friendly. They’re hard work. When they’re too young I don’t understand what they want and when they’re older they’re nothing more than a time-consuming annoyance. It’s not just children though. As evident by my ever shrinking social circle, I rarely bother with adults either. I guess, these past years, I’ve got used to my own company. Sure I have some close friends - Frank being one of them - but it takes a lot for me to let someone ‘in’.

  I placed my hand on Tom’s shoulder and reassured him, “It’ll be okay. I promise.” Damn. I shouldn’t have done that. You should never make a promise you can’t keep. Tom didn’t say anything. He simply shuffled his feet from side to side and looked at the floor. I placed my finger under his chin and lifted his head up so I could look him straight in his raw-looking eyes. “I promise, everything will be fine.” Again, shouldn’t have said that. What the hell is the matter with me? Needs must I guess.


  “I don’t know you,” he said.

  True. It was hard to argue with that.

  “I know I haven’t seen you for a long, long time but I promise - you and me - given the chance... We’ll be the very best of friends.” Tom tried to smile but he still didn’t look as reassured as I hoped he’d be. I wish I could turn the clock back. Perhaps find another way of explaining to him about the car crash. Maybe I made it sound more graphic than it needed to be. I just wanted to get the severity of the situation across to him and, I’ve already said, I’m not good with children. How was I to know what was pushing it too far? I should have played it down a little. Or maybe I should have just said that they had gone on holiday together? Perhaps explaining to him that a last minute competition prize, offering them the chance to visit some sunny shores, was the best plan of action? At least that way he wouldn’t have been scared. I mean - he may have been irritated that they didn’t say goodbye or even invite him but at least he wouldn’t have been worried about the whole messy situation. No sense thinking about it now. What’s done is done. I just need to make the best of the situation now. “And what better place to start a friendship?” I asked him. He didn’t answer. He just looked at my blankly. Maybe he didn’t understand the question. “The best place for us to start a friendship is a visit to the toy shop!”

  He smiled half a smile.

  Progress.

  Maybe this won’t be as hard as I first imagined?

  Maybe everything will be okay?

  I smiled back at him.

  Evil

  Lurking

  Within

  M A T T S H A W

  1.

  December 20th.

  Normally the other parents have gone home by now; choosing to get their youngsters home in time for baths, supper and bed no doubt. It’s rare they keep their little ones out so late. On occasion we might bump into the odd group of teenagers but they’d keep their distance generally. There was an incident once when they were being mouthy but, if anything, that did me a favour as it just encouraged the boy to stay away from them. It’s definitely better that way.

  “Looks like they’re having fun,” she said. I stopped pretending to read the book I held in my hands and turned to the woman sitting next to me on the park bench. I smiled and nodded. She was referring to her children being chased around the park by a werewolf. “It’s a good mask!” she continued.

  I didn’t want to appear rude by ignoring her but, at the same time, I didn’t want to engage in a conversation. I kept the answer short and sweet, “Birthday present.”

  “How old is he?” she asked after a slight pause; a pause long enough for me to raise my hopes that our conversation was finished.

  “Seven?” I said - still not entirely sure myself.

  “The mask was obviously a good choice,” she continued. I gave her a puzzled look. “I bought my son a mask for his birthday once and it scared him. He couldn’t even have it in his bedroom at night because he believed the mask could actually see what he was doing and wanted to eat him. Kids and their imaginations, hey...” I nodded again with another smile. I wished she’d take my silence as an indication that I didn’t want to converse with her. I just wanted to sit here and continue pretending to read my book whist I kept an eye on the kids playing. “Do you bring your son here often?” she asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

  I glanced down at her left hand out of curiosity. Ah. No ring. A single mother. I should have guessed from the desperate need in her tone looking for an adult conversation. It won’t hurt to be nice I guess. It’s not like I’ll ever see her again. “I like taking him to different parks so he doesn’t get bored. This is the first time we’ve come to this one.” I glanced in his direction and watched as he continued to chase the other children around. “He seems to like it here.”

  “It is a good park. One of the better ones in the area for sure. What other ones have you tried?”

  I killed the conversation, “There have been so many.”

  Another brief pause which raised my hopes for solitude. My bubble was burst when she continued, “His mother doesn’t take him?”

  “Not sure,” I replied. The truth. I had no idea whether his mother usually took him to playgrounds. It’s not something I had ever bothered asking.

  “I know that feeling. I honestly have no idea what their father does with them on his weekends. Occasionally I ask but they say it’s a secret and start laughing! Still - it’s nice to see a father taking his son out. Normally I just bump into mothers,” she said. I smiled at her. I prefer it when we don’t bump into anyone. “This is nice,” she said.

  I flashed her a glance. She was watching the children now. They were playing on the climbing frame - still laughing. I ignored her comment and reached into my inside jacket pocket for my mobile phone. The Nokia’s screen showed the time only. No message icon. No missed calls. Five more minutes, I tell myself, and then we’ll go back. No sense inviting an argument just because we’re late home.

  The woman clocked my mobile phone, “Did you want to exchange numbers?”

  I dropped my phone back inside my jacket, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  I look of disappointment and rejection flashed across her face before she turned it into a smile, “No worries, I didn’t mean anything by it - I just thought the kids would like to play again sometime.”

  I smiled at her again and stood to my feet, “Tom! Time to go home now!” I didn’t want to offend the woman so I turned to where she remained sitting, “It was nice meeting you.”

  My little werewolf ran over to where I was standing, “Are we going to see mum now?”

  “Soon,” I replied.

  “Well hello there,” the lady said to the boy, “that’s a cool mask you’re wearing.”

  I didn’t want her talking to him so positioned myself between the two of them. I gave him a little wink and said, “Say goodbye to the nice lady.”

  “Goodbye,” he dutifully replied. He gave her a little wave before I took his hand and walked him towards the park exit and away from the nosy lady.

  “Well it was nice meeting you,” she called out as we walked away. “Maybe see you around sometime? And Merry Christmas!”

  I ignored her. I could drop the act now I was walking away. I didn’t need to stay friendly as our paths would never cross again.

  “Where are we going now?” Tom asked as I pulled the park gate open for him.

  “Home,” I said without really thinking. Tom’s pace quickened and he got a little skip in his step. I worried that he thought I meant ‘home’ as in where he lives with his mum and dad and not where I lived, and had been housing him. I’ll deal with the disappointment as and when. No sense bringing it up if he hasn’t misunderstood me. “Are you hungry?” I asked as I quickened my pace so that we could walk together.

  “Yes.”

  “What does your mother normally get you?

  He hesitated, “Erm - something and potato?”

  “McDonalds?”

  “I’m not allowed McDonalds...”

  “Now allowed McDonalds? All little boys are allowed McDonalds! I won’t tell if you don’t. Do you want to try a burger?” Tom nodded shyly. We reached the car-park, where I had parked the car, and I opened the back door for him after unlocking it with the key-fob. “It’ll be our secret though - you don’t want me getting into trouble with your mum, do you?”

  “No!” he laughed.

  “And if you can promise not to tell, I might even get you an ice-cream for pudding!”

  Tom climbed into the car and up onto the booster seat, “My friend says he gets toys when he has a McDonalds.”

  “Well let’s see if we can sweet talk the lady behind the counter into giving us the whole set then. Give you something to brag to your friend about after the school holidays!”

  Tom laughed again - a happy, contented little laugh. “We’ll have to leave them round your house so mum doesn
’t find them though, yeah?”

  I smiled as I closed the door and climbed into the driver’s seat, “Sounds like a plan, little man. You got your seat-belt on?” He nodded. “Now - let’s see if we can go and scare the people in the drive-through with your mask! When we get there, I want you to roar as loudly as you can!” The little chuckle from the back-seat was drowned out by the roar of the engine as I twisted the key in the ignition. “I think you should do a practice roar for me.”

  “Werewolves don’t roar!”

  “They don’t?”

  “No! They growl!”

  “Then give me your best growl!”

  And from the back-seat, the werewolf did growl.

  It had been a couple of days since I had picked him up from the school gates and I have to say, all things considered, it has been fairly easy. I don’t know what I had been worried about.