The initial confident quirkiness that dominated her personality back in the bedroom has given way somewhat to a hint of anxiety. Her fingers flitter through her hair as she continues, “I’ve known them for years now as level headed people but their behaviour today is making me nervous. It can’t be all that bad can it?”
It’s obvious by her talk that the two of them have had no firsthand experience of what’s been happening.
After a few seconds pause I reply with, “It’s bad enough, but we’re in about as a good a situation as we can be all the way out here in this mansion in the middle of nowhere.”
It’s obviously by her reaction that isn’t the answer she was hoping for.
We carry on to the stairs in silence. In an effort to change the subject and get some of my questions answered I ask, “So you said Tom was at that old hotel with his neighbours? It sounds like the two of you had a good chat. You know that was the first time I’ve heard him talk. What actually happened to him?”
She replies with some of the confident tone restored and a hint of maternal concern saying, “I’m not surprised, it’s a horrific thing for a six year old to witness, although he doesn’t grasp the entirety of what’s happened to him. In his words, someone hurt his Daddy outside the door of their house and when his he came in his Daddy was cross and started hurting his Mammy. His friend’s Daddy, Dave from next door took him away with them until his parents were better but they left and brought him with them to stay at that old house beside the lake until the people who hurt his Daddy were gone. He got angry and ran away when they wouldn’t let him ring his mammy’s mobile. He had just snuck out and started to walk through the trees when he got scared a turned to go back. Before he got back he saw one of the white faced baddies who hurt his Daddy earlier. He climbed a tree to hide and from the sounds of it became paralyzed with fear as more and more of what he calls baddies gathered below him and all around the house. He doesn’t seem overly aware of what happened from then on, but from the way he spoke about it but I think he knows they’re dead and feels guilty about leaving them. The next thing he described vividly was being rescued by his hero.”
She nudges me playfully with a smile on her face as she says the word hero.
I can’t say I’m comfortable with the term, given the actual circumstances but what can I do but say in a smug voice, “Ah well, it’s all in a day’s work don’t ya know.”
She looks up at me with a coy smirk before adding, “It was tough to get that much talk out of him. He’s a great little guy but he’s understandably confused and in shock. I think he’s just managing to cope with things as they come at the minute. From what I can see, he’s in good hands though. I know who to call on if I’m in trouble.”
She finishes speaking just as we arrive within earshot of Meg and Paul. They both turn to see who’s coming with a jolt. They must have gotten shaken up pretty bad yesterday. I can relate, I’m still fairly on edge from my ordeal and I’m not even half their age.
Not wanting to carry on any preconceptions from what I saw on the landing earlier, I decide it’s best to play it by ear and act normal. I’m not sure what to make of their gaze, they seem stuck for words.
I break the ice with, “Hi, you must be Paul and Meg. Meg, I understand you helped fix me up after I arrived. I appreciate it, I feel good as new.”
Hah, as if. I feel like shit. I’ve got to get some more of that painkiller from Emma.
They stare at me for a second or two before Meg answers me as if she just realised it was her I was talking to.
“Oh yes, yes, of course. It’s good to see you up and about.”
Her tone is laboured and unnatural. I’m not sure what to make of the two of them. Are they just unable to deal with what’s happening? I try again on a lighter topic.
“Emma says you’re her parents neighbours from down the road and you’re looking after the place while they’re away.”
If I wasn’t looking right at them I’d have missed it, but for an instant while I was talking, they both quickly glanced at each other at exactly the same time before quickly looking away again.
As if she realised how strange it must have looked, Meg quickly replies, “Yes, we’re neighbours from just down the road.”
Her response is almost an exact repetition of my question, as if she’s afraid to elaborate any more for fear of saying something she shouldn’t.
I look to Jo for some sort of guidance and it’s clear to see from her bewildered expression the odd nature of the conversation isn’t lost on her either. She looks as confused and uncomfortable as I feel.
Paul seems to have no compulsion to be involved in the conversation at all, but he does seem as focused on Meg’s responses as he is on anything I say. I get the feeling they desperately want me to just leave them be. That’s not going to happen.
I decide on one last attempt at civilized conversation.
“I hear you had a close one out on the road yesterday.”
That wasn’t the most tactful line ever but at this stage I just want to get a reaction of some kind.
With a slightly more confused look on her face, Meg questions, “The road? What are you talking…”
Before she can finish her thought, Paul adjusts his stare towards her in a very quick, subtle movement that has the instant effect of stopping Meg mid sentence. She steps back, moving in closer to Paul’s side. Looks like I got my reaction.
I’ve had enough of this.
“Right, what’s going on around here?” I demand.
Before they have time to answer, if they were going to at all, the door next to them opens up. From what I saw during our spin around the house earlier, it’s the door that leads out to the back yard and I can tell from the voice coming from the other side that it’s Fred.
The opening door obscures his view of Jo and me, and upon seeing the old pair standing in the same spot they were in when they had their last conversation; he begins to talk as he enters.
He’s excited and his voice is filled with urgency, fear but above all, anger.
“What were you thinking? We’ve got to get rid of those two and fast. If neither of you can do it, I will!”
As he enters my field of vision, I see he’s loading rounds into a rifle. You motherfucker! As he looks up from his gun and begins to turn around to see what the old pair are looking at, every fibre of my being screeches at me to act right now or die.
Before I know it, I’m sprinting straight at him, pumping my legs for all they’re worth, with no plan other than to hit him as hard as I possibly can with my body before he can raise that gun to finish the job he started earlier. He barely had time to see me coming before I make contact, flesh shuddering contact.
The collision lands us both on the hard tiled surface of the kitchen floor, making sure he takes the brunt of the impact.
I start to give into the red mist of self preservation as I kneel on top of him and hit him, again and again. I don’t just want to stop him, I want to punish him. This fucker was gonna kill me, probably Emma and Tom too.
I grab fistfuls of his hair in both my hands and raise his head in preparation for a blow against the kitchen floor, his dazed eyes trying to focus on me.
All of a sudden I’m struck from behind. The sharp impact of a shattering dinner plate on the back of my already pounding head is more than I can take, and any bit of bloodlust that I was feeling is well and truly knocked out of me. I slump to one side and fall to the floor, rolling off Fred and onto my back.