Evil Lurking Within Read online

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  Dragging the bags across the muddy surface, whilst kicking the one which I presumed hid the head, was a risky way of getting them from point A to point B. The ground was littered with broken twigs from the many branches overhead and it would have been easy to snag the flimsy plastic on one of them. I didn’t care though. I just wanted to move them in the quickest way possible and this was certainly quicker than lugging them through the woods one at a time.

  I didn’t have too far to go. I just wanted to get away from the road a little bit. There was less chance of someone stumbling across the bags, burnt or not, if they were a little deeper into the woods. Especially as this area didn’t look as though it was too friendly for people on an idle sunday walk to bother with. In fact, looking around, I couldn’t see signs of any people whatsoever.

  I dropped the first bag down in a small clearing and then released the other bags. An audible sigh of relief, unintentional but obviously needed, slipped from my mouth as I freed myself from the burden of his weight. I was aching worse than I had ever ached before - even more so than my first ‘gym’ session with Frank in the prison yard when he was putting me through my seriously lacking paces - what with being so unfit when I first went inside. Jesus, I thought I ached then but that was nothing compared to this. I shook my arms and stretched my legs out as though doing a few simple stretches would help with some of the tension. All I wanted was a hot bath to bathe in but I knew it wasn’t possible. Something so simple and yet so far from my reach only added to the general frustration that I was feeling. I tried to put the thought of the hot, clean water and soothing bubbles from my mind but the more I tried - the more I couldn’t help but to think of it.

  “Come on,” I told myself, “just ignore it...”

  I ran back to where I had dropped the petrol can. I had tried to carry it along with the bags but it had slipped from my grasp. Thankfully not too far back. I reached down and picked it up before heading back across the muddy track to the small clearing which was about to be the site of my impromptu bonfire. Once there, I emptied the contents of the can over the various bags before dropping it onto the top of the pile. I wasn’t sure why I thought to get rid of the can too - probably something deep down in my mind which worried about the possibilities of linking it to the scene of the crime should it ever be discovered.

  Happy that everything was as it should be, I fished in my pocket until I found my silver lighter; something which I carried with me at all times despite not being a smoker. No idea why. It’s not as though I even thought of it as being lucky. I just liked it.

  I flicked the lid open and pressed the silver button, igniting the flame. Guess I’ll have to get a new lighter. I dropped it onto the can and watched as it slipped between two of the bags. Moments later and a flame erupted from the very same gap - a flame which quickly spread across the other bags too engulfing everything within seconds. I stepped back, startled at how quickly the fire took hold. I guess I should have expected it considering the flammable nature of petrol... Genius. The heat was nice given how cold the early morning air was. I’d have liked to stay there, a while longer, to warm my bones up - something I hoped would help with the general aches that I was feeling. Can’t though. Need to get back to the boy.

  I went to take a step away but stopped. I felt as though I should say a couple of words. Something to mark the occasion. This is, however, his funeral. There’ll be no other opportunity for a goodbye. I turned back to the flames crackling away and thought for a moment before, “Jesus, it fucking stinks.” I started to cough. I had heard stories of the stench of humans being burned but this was my first time experiencing it. I turned away from the smoke which seemed to be billowing in my direction. “Cya, Frank!” I coughed through my hand as I walked away.

  Worried that the flames could attract unwanted attention from anyone who maybe close-by - I hurried back to the car to continue the drive to whatever camp we stumbled across first. I pushed through the thicket and stepped onto the dirt-track, beside the car, and immediately froze. What the hell? The passenger door was open...I ran across, with a feeling of panic washing through me.

  More so when I saw the car was empty.

  6.

  Shit! Shit! SHIT!

  I looked into the back of the car. No sign of Tom hiding there.

  SHIT!

  Did someone come by and recognise him from the newspapers? Did they take him away? No. They couldn’t have. My guilty mind going into overdrive at the thought of being caught out. He probably just woke up and went looking for me - perhaps scared at being alone in the middle of nowhere? That’s more like it.

  I looked around, in all directions, hoping to see him somewhere but I couldn’t see anything. I called his name out, “TOM!” I paused. Nothing. “TOM!” I called out again at the top of my lungs. Come on...Where are you? I paused and craned my neck to try and hear a little better. I even held my breath. A trick that worked for I heard the faint sound of crying. “Tom?” I turned in the direction of the sound and saw, tucked against the side of the road, was the little boy; crying and scared. “What are you doing down there?” I asked him as I cautiously approached. Had he followed me and seen things not meant for the eyes of little boys?

  “I woke up,” he sniffled, “and you were gone. I didn’t know where I was.”

  “Sorry,” I said, “I had to go to the toilet. You didn’t think I just left you, did you?”He shrugged. “Don’t be silly,” I told, “I made a promise to look after you. Why would I leave?” he shrugged again. “Come on - let’s go.” I helped him to his feet and walked him back to the car. I couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d still feel the same if he knew the truth about who I really was. “There you go,” I said as I put his seat belt around him. He thanked me as I closed the door. Quite a polite kid. I’ve never really thought much about children, or even tolerated them, but - credit where credit is due - he’s one of the good ones. I’m not sure if that’s because he was born into money. Does that make a difference to how a child grows up? I shook my head. Money isn’t the answer to everything. I hurried around to the driver’s side - concerned as to how much time we’ve wasted here. That and the fact I’m sure the flames could be attracting someone. I closed the door, after I sat in the driver’s seat, and put my foot to the pedal. It’s weird - despite the sudden panic when I thought I had lost the boy - I actually feel elevated at the moment. Possibly something to do with the fact I’m no longer driving around with a corpse in the boot - just the bits and pieces needed for our survival over the next few days, or so, which I had put back in after removing the bags of Frank.

  I glanced across at Tom. He had settled down now and was busy looking out of the window at the passing scenery. Other than that short blip - he seems happy, all things considered. I wish I could feel as contented as he seems to be. I can’t remember the last time I felt like that.

  “Where are we going?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence as well as startling me.

  “I know of this little holiday camp,” I said. “My mum and dad used to take me there when I was your age and I thought you’d enjoy it too. I mean, I had a blast there.” Not a lie. I was actually taken there by my mum and dad when I was a youngster. Back when my life was better. The days when I felt positive about things. Jesus - I was about eight years old when my mum and dad took me there. Was that really the last time I felt positive about things? Has my life been that dire? Fuck.

  “How will my mum and dad know where I am?” he asked.

  His words caught me off-guard. I had to think on my feet, “They know where we’re going to be,” I said, “I told them I’d probably take you there when they asked me to look after you in the first place.” He smiled. “Besides,” I continued, “I have my mobile phone on me. I’m sure they’ll call when they’re ready.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. The last bit was a lie. I didn’t even have a mobile phone. Not my own phone anyway - just the one I borrowed from Fra
nk - and I left that at home on the off-chance they were able to track it, when they decide to hunt for him. Damn it. I left it at home. I should have thrown it out of the car whilst driving through the town. If they do track it - they’ll be led directly to my house. Two things linking me to Frank - the van in the garage and the phone. This is messy. Too messy.

  “Can we call them now?” he asked. Shit. His car. I left his car at my house too. Frank’s fucking car. What am I doing? I’m rushing things. Panicking. I’m making too many mistakes. Silly mistakes which could cost me my freedom. Jesus! When we were sorting all this out - talking about it in the yard - it was so simple. Snatch the boy, get the ransom. Clearly we weren’t prepared. I suppose I only have myself to blame. Can’t blame Frank. Not now anyway. “Did you hear me?” asked Tom.

  “I’m sorry - what?”

  “I said, can we call them?”

  “We can’t right now. I need to charge the phone up,” the lies were just rolling off my tongue. “As soon as it’s charged I’ll give them a ring and see if they’re able to talk yet. Okay?” He replied with a nod. We slipped back into a comfortable silence. I leaned forward to turn the radio on - choosing to play whatever CD was in the player so as to avoid any potential news broadcasts which may have mentioned the fact Tom was missing and that his mum and dad were looking for him. I was grateful the music distracted him. I wasn’t in the mood for talking. Not because of him. The truth was, I was actually enjoying his company, I just couldn’t stop worrying about all the loose ends I had accidentally left. All the little bits and pieces which could lead the law straight back to me. I swallowed hard as my heart raced. I felt sick.

  * * * * *

  I felt my face redden whilst I was talking to the elderly lady behind the glass screen, at the holiday home.

  “And it’s for one?” she confirmed. She couldn’t believe I wanted a lodge just for me. Most people, by themselves like she thought I was, want space to pitch their tent as opposed to the more expensive option of the rental of a lodge. I just told her that I like luxury and have grown accustomed to having a toilet close to where I sleep - not miles away in some shared outhouse which is what you get if you rented tent space. She didn’t know Tom was hiding in the back of the car, under a few bags and a coat.

  “That’s right,” I said, “just needed a break from it all.” She smiled at me. It didn’t look as though it was a genuine smile. Was she already suspicious of me? “I used to come here with my mum and dad too...You know, when I was younger,” I spun her the same line that I had used with Tom in the hope that I’d appear more human and genuine as a customer. A lonely customer who’d come back to re-live a holiday he had taken with his parents. “I thought it would be good to see how much it’s changed, you know?” She was tapping something onto the keyboard in front of her. Her fingers were moving at the speed of light so it was impossible to try and get an idea of what she was typing.

  “We do have a lodge on the edge of the campsite,” she said eventually - ignoring everything I had previously said. Here is a lady who won’t be winning any customer service awards.

  “That’s great!” I reached into my trouser pocket for my wallet.

  “And it is free for the week...”

  “Even better.”

  “No pets.”

  “I don’t have any pets...”

  “Or smoking...”

  “Don’t smoke...”

  “How will you be paying?”

  I held my wallet open. The old lady noticed the notes and smiled. Now that was a smile I believed in.

  7.

  December 22nd.

  The journey through the night, to get where we were today, had taken it out of both of us and we spent most of the previous day, and night, fast sleep in a crumpled heap on the same bed. Sadly this place only had the one bed. I said Tom could have it and I’d take the floor. Even so - what with it being late morning, I thought I’d take a sneaky lie down on the bed. I had only meant to lay down for a minute, to rest my back, and the next thing I knew - he was lying with me and snoring. His contented, peaceful slumber lulled me into my own heavy sleep and, despite the stress I was feeling, it felt as though it was the best sleep I had ever had when I finally did wake up.

  “You snore!” said Tom. He wasn’t next to me, on the bed, anymore. He was sitting on the edge of it - watching the small television which was in the corner of the room. For the briefest of minutes I panicked - worried that he may have seen some news bulletin, or something similar. The fact he was more concerned about my snoring, though, suggested he’d more likely been watching cartoons, or some dire early morning breakfast show.

  “I do it on purpose,” I said.

  “Why?” he turned and looked at me - a look of confusion on his face.

  “It keeps the monsters away.”

  “The monsters? What monsters?”

  “The ones in the closet and under the bed. The louder I snore - the more likely they are to leave us alone.” Something my dad told me when I was growing up. It’s funny how you remember little things, like this, out of the blue just because the situation calls for it. Until now - when it jumped to the forefront of my mind - I hadn’t thought about my old man’s excuse for...well...as long as I could remember.

  “Don’t be stupid!” Tom said out loud - a mixture between a laugh and a shout. “There’s no such thing as monsters!”

  “There is. You just don’t see them because of my snoring. It’s okay - you can thank me later.”

  “My mum and dad don’t snore!” he said. “I’ve still never seen monsters!”

  “Maybe your neighbour snores loudly,” I said. “If it’s a really powerful snore - it can stretch for miles and miles. Probably keeps the whole neighbourhood safe. You should thank them when you next see them.” Tom was laughing. I know he didn’t believe me but I continued the story anyway. It was nice to have laughter fill the lodge. “This campsite - it’s all under my protection. That’s why, when I paid, I was entitled to some discount on the price.”

  “You’re stupid!” he laughed.

  “I don’t think so. You’re the stupid one if you don’t believe in monsters.”

  “No! You’re stupid!” he was getting louder with his shouting and laughing so I changed the subject before it got out of hand.

  “What are you watching anyway?” He shrugged. “Cartoons?” He didn’t need to answer. The theme tune for the local news program distracted me. I looked up at the television and noticed it was just starting. Quick as a flash, I jumped off the bed and dashed over to the television. A quick flick of the switch killed it instantly. Tom just looked at me as though I had lost the plot. “You didn’t want to watch it, did you? It’s a rubbish program! We’d much rather have cartoons, or something, right?” He nodded and smiled, as did I despite only doing so to keep him from thinking something was wrong and, more importantly, to hide my true feelings of panic. It’s weird - for a moment - I felt as though he and I were a normal family, laughing and mucking around as we were. My groggy brain, still fuzzy from the sleep, forgetting the true extent of our relationship. “Hungry?” I asked quickly so as to change the subject.

  “Can we have a McDonalds?” he asked.

  I’ve created a monster.

  I shook my head, “Sorry, little man, but not today. Soon though, yeah?” Despite looking a little disappointed, he nodded. “Wait here - I’ll go and unload the car.” I walked from the bedroom, through to the fair sized lounge and out of the front door of our lodge.

  I had parked the car close by, with the boot facing the front door, to make it easier when it came to unloading it - something I had meant to do before falling asleep on the bed, next to Tom. Outside I looked around to make sure no one was watching me - not that, at this point, I had anything to hide. Just a hint of paranoia. Thankfully there weren’t many people about - the ones who were about were too busy doing their own thing to pay me any attention whatsoever. Of course it helped that I was on the edge of the campsite as
requested and in this section there looked to be three lodges only. I opened the boot and pulled out the first of the bags. I turned to the house and threw them through the front door. I turned back to the boot and leaned in for the various food items I had thrown in when I was back at my own house. Immediately my heart sank as I pulled the first handful of cans out. Not because the food was poor. Spaghetti and sausages is a great meal. It’s just...In my haste - I left the tin can opener at home. Looking at the remaining cans in the car - at least some of them come with ring pulls for easy access. We’ll start with those. Worry about the other ones when we’re getting a little more hungry.

  I hooked the remaining items out of the boot and slammed it shut with my elbow before turning back into the house. I staggered through the door, struggling to balance everything, and kicked it shut with a backwards swipe of my foot.