Almost there.
Almost…
Jess cried out as a heavy work shoe crunched down on her hand. She knew right away that she’d blown it and that she would most likely pay for it with her life. Nigel twisted his heel and pushed down harder, cracking and bruising the small bones in Jess’ hand. She wailed in agony and struggled to get free. Nigel laughed sadistically, the sound more chilling than the cold night air. Jess’s screams increased as she felt a rough hand tangle itself into her hair and yank. The pressure removed itself from her hand and she was hoisted to her feet, finding herself face to face with Nigel who was snarling like a feral beast. She tried to pull away.
“Not so fast, sweetheart. Now that Steph is nice and comfortable, you and me have some time on our hands.”
She fought to twist herself free, but it was like being held in a vice. “The others will be back at any minute,” she warned him. “You’re going to get your arse kicked, you sicko.”
Nigel smiled. “By who? Harry, the alcoholic? Jerry, the loser? Or Lucas, the thick mick? I don’t think so, sweetheart. They’re probably already dead, and if not then I’ll see to them later.”
The thought of Nigel killing the other’s filled Jess with rage. She decided to take a leaf out of Steph’s book and spat. Nigel flinched as the saliva missile hit his cheek and she used this opportunity to try and get free, driving her knee as hard as she could toward Nigel’s groin. The blow missed the intended target but still managed to plant firmly in his mid-section. He staggered backwards, releasing her, as the air escaped from his lungs. Jess used the time to make a grab for the poker, diving to the floor and reaching out with her hand. Her fingers closed around the metal and Jess’s heart skipped a beat as she realised she’d actually managed to get the weapon. Now she had to use it. She leapt to her feet and turned around, poker in hand, ready to let Nigel have it.
But he was gone.
Jess did a double take of the room. She knew that Nigel was hiding somewhere, waiting to pounce. But from where? With the poker held out in front of her, she took a tentative step forward, expecting an attack at any moment. Her nerves were tattered and frayed by the constant jolts of fear. If she lived through tonight, Jess decided she should write a book. The Winter Rapist? The Ice Killer? She’d have to think about it later.
Moving past the sofa, she prepared to swing with all her might, sure that Nigel would jump out at her any second. She moved carefully, watchfully, deciding that the most effective hiding place for a serial killer would be behind the bar. There was only one entrance to the area behind it so, if she was quick enough, she could take Nigel out before he could manage to do anything to her. Jess slowed her pace, not relishing an encounter that was life or death.
The bar loomed closer, lit by a number of dwindling candles. The struggling light shone on the liqueur bottles that lined the shelves, making them look like rows of crocodile teeth. The final few steps were nerve-wracking and she had to come to a halt before she reached the bar fully. Deep breaths, Jess. Nigel must be behind there, but you’re going to be ready for him. Armed and ready. She squeezed the poker in her right hand, anxiety forcing her to check it was still there even though she knew it was. Okay, here goes.
Jess took the final steps towards the bar area and quickly sidestepped to see behind it. As she suspected, Nigel was crouched and waiting for her. What she hadn’t expected was how quick the big man would be – and how much it would hurt having a vodka bottle smashed over her head.
Straight away, Jess felt the blood cascade from the top of her head. It ran into her eyes, blinding her, and then into her mouth. She could hardly believe she was lucid enough to even taste the coppery, metallic taste of it, and that somehow the blow had not knocked her out. It had certainly dazed her.
She teetered backwards, legs folding as she hit the floor. Her ears picked up the heavy clunk of the poker skittering across the floor. How many times is that thing going to get dropped? Despite everything, Jess found herself laughing at the thought. No need to lose her sense of humour now, not when she needed it more than ever. She collapsed onto her back, too dizzy to get back up. Not that it would have mattered because Nigel was on her like a shot, pinning her arms down with his knees and straddling her chest. Held to her throat was the broken remnants of the Vodka bottle.
Nigel sneered at her. “Time to die, bitch.”
Jess sneered right back, blood covering her teeth. “See you in hell, you small prick mummy’s boy!”
The comment seemed to hurt Nigel and Jess started to laugh again. Right now, the over-sized, sexual predator looked like an insecure little boy. She would take that satisfying image to her grave happily. Even as the jagged bottle descended towards her throat, Jess continued to cackle out loud, closing her eyes and waiting for it all to be over.
Jess had expected a sharp, ragged pain, but instead was jolted by a heavy force hitting her instead. She opened her eyes tentatively and at first could not understand what had happened. Then she realised that Nigel had collapsed forward, her face now buried in his stomach. What the hell? She punched and prodded at Nigel’s lumpy body, trying to move it, but when it didn’t budge, it became obvious that he was unconscious.
What the hell happened?
After several attempts at rolling the dead weight aside, Jess finally managed to slump Nigel over to one side and slide out from under him. She still didn’t understand what happened. At least not until she saw…
“Peter! You’re okay?”
Her friend was standing over her, gripping the poker that now dripped goblets of blood from its tip onto the floor. He smiled at her, although his ruined face made the expression look ghoulish and grim. He released the poker and dropped to his knees, letting out a long breath. He managed to speak. “Are you…okay…Jess?”
“Yes, yes. I’m fine, Peter. Thanks to you, that is.”
Peter nodded and his smile widened. Then he lost consciousness, pitching forward and hitting the floor face down. Jess felt like doing the same.
Chapter Thirty-TWO
When Harry found a pile of children’s sledges he thought that things were looking up, but only slightly. Sure it would make getting the coal and other supplies back to the pub easier, but it didn’t change the fact the supermarket was surrounded by god-knows-what. To make matters even worse, Harry had just realised that Lucas was not who he said he was. Before Harry said anything, however, he’d decided to complete the task they’d come here for. Between the three of them, him, Lucas, and Kath had managed to pile up more than enough coal to keep the pub going till morning and beyond, along with a bag full of over-the-counter painkillers. They’d even found a couple of torches and two dozen packets of batteries. Now that they were done and ready to go, Harry was ready to confront Lucas about the secrets he was keeping.
“Hey, Lucas? How do you know my surname?”
Lucas turned to Harry, confusion on his face. “What’s that now?”
“I said how do you know my surname? I didn’t tell you.”
Kath huffed. “Do we really have time for this, Harry? We need to get going.”
Lucas shrugged. “I didn’t realise it was such a secret, fella.”
“It’s not,” Harry admitted, “but I never told it to you.”
“The demon monks outside said it, didn’t they? They said, HARRY JOBSON YOU ARE THE SINNER. Or something like that.”
Harry thought for a moment. “No, Lucas, you knew before that. You called me Major Jobson earlier at The Trumpet.”
Kath looked pissed off, but at the same time seemed a little interested also. It appeared she wanted to see what Lucas’s answer would be.