Black soul rose by John Jones... - HTML preview

Kieran

He was back outside on the pavement, ringing Bean-head. They had taken him in for further questioning but the conclusion remained the same. There was no evidence that he had murdered his parents. Not yet anyway, so they couldn’t keep him any longer. An application for a further 24 hours detention was denied, and they concluded he was just saying anything to stay inside because of some possessed children he kept talking about.

141

They did however, release him with an ankle-tag, so could monitor his every movement.

“They’re gone Kieran,” said Bean-head, “those kids have all gone missing”.

“Have you called Herbie?”

“No not yet. I think he’s still playing detective.”

“The last I heard he was following them. I’ll have to give him another call. I’m making my way back now. Think I’ll just have to get a taxi”.

“If he knows where they are then he needs to call the police. Tell you what I’ll ring him and then call you back”.

“Alright,”

Herbie was stood in the middle of a lane when the phone rang. He took it out of his pocket with curiosity, looking at the contraption as it played a little melody.

“Kieran?” he asked, answering.

“No it’s Bean-head”.

“Fucking Bean-head…what sort of name..?” then Herbie realised he had to be Herbie and play along, but didn’t care who Bean-head was. He just wanted to know the whereabouts of Kieran.

“Do you know where Kieran is?”

“Yes he’s on his way back into the village in a taxi. Where are you? where are the kids? People are going mental around here”.

“They’re gone. I followed them into the countryside and they just vanished. I couldn’t keep up”.

“Probably best you come back and tell the police that so then they’ll know where to start looking”.

“Yes, alright,” Herbie looked back at the ramblers getting used to their new bodies. “On my way. May be a while though ‘cos they went quite far and I’m walking back”. He ended the call and quickly rang Kieran again.

It was answered.

142

Herbie repeated what he had told Bean-head. The children had vanished into the country, and it was safe to return, which he was doing anyway as he was in the back of a taxi.

“I need to tell the police what I know but it’s best I do it in person. If I call you when I get back, we can go to them together”.

“I don’t think you’ll need me. To be honest I’ve had enough of the police”.

“Okay but I’ll call when I get back and arrange to meet maybe.”

“Yes, alright,” Kieran said. The call ended. Herbie walked back to the others.

“Right, I can get back to Kieran, and we need to hurry this up before all this peace is shattered by pigs scaring the sheep”. There was only Boyd and Ian left.

It took another twenty minutes before there was more human activity. A vintage car drove towards them along the western lane, slowing down when they saw these people milling around.

“We need to possess these,” said Boyd, standing in the way. They all agreed and formed a wall. The car stopped, then was surrounded. The man driving, thin, late fifties who looked older said:

“Hello, can I help you?” In the passenger seat was an overweight woman of similar age who could have been his wife, and a youth in the back seat with headphones on.

“I’m possessing him,” said Boyd, pointing to the youth. The man saw they were brandishing weapons and got out of the vehicle in an attempt to supplicate them.

“Now look here, I don’t know what you want. I don’t have money…” but he stepped away from the vehicle and ran to a wall where he clambered over, crashing down.

“Well you’re the biggest and strongest of us,” said Boyd to Glenn with a grin.

Glenn just nodded, gripped his screwdriver and leapt after him. The man was struggling to get up when Glenn was onto him, pressing down his chest and stabbing his throat over and over again until his neck was a ragged mess of blood and viscera.

He stood up, remembering that the act of murder could be rather exhausting, even for a man such as him who kept himself fit.

143

The man spluttered blood out over his face. He was still alive. Nearby there was a heavy stone that had fallen away from the wall which had been constructed many years ago. Glenn picked it up, finding it quite heavy, but easy to lift.

He brought it down on the man’s face, over and over again, effectively crushing his head into a bloody pulp, mashing eyes, bone, brain and skull. Blood still pumped from the neck and soaked into the grass and Glenn threw the stone to the side.

The others were all leaning on the wall, looking over at him.

Including the teenage boy and his seventy-year old auntie.

“We’re done?” asked Glenn with a smile.

“Yes,” said Sam, “we just need to do something with the kids bodies, then we can go back into the village. We’ll find and kill that cunt Kieran, then we’ll decide where to go from there. We’re hidden now”. Sam looked curiously beyond Glenn, who looked and saw a sheep standing there watching them.

“How long’s that been there?” Glenn asked, watching as the animal came slowly across, sniffing around the man’s pulped head. It licked and ate some of the viscera, before deciding it didn’t like it, then trotted away.

“Never seen that before,” said Dorothy.

“Thought sheep were herbivores,” said Boyd in his new teenage form.

“Probably like humans,” said husband rambler, “they’ll eat anything”.

“Well, anyway”, said Boyd, “we need to get this guy back over and into the car, then drive it against a wall so it looks like he crashed”.

“He really smashed his face against the steering wheel,” said Sam with a laugh.

“Yes, the police probably won’t believe it but what the fuck? Let’s confuse them. They need to find the kids anyway, because if they don’t they’ll be searching around here for ages. So if they’re found, the sooner the pigs will go away. There won’t be any need for a search party”.

“I know what to do with the bodies,” Sam said.

144

They got the bodies of their previous existence and the man into both cars, and all clambered inside the vehicles in one way or another as Boyd and Sam had remembered how to drive from earlier incarnations, but it still wasn’t easy going as they stalled once or twice. Dorothy’s elbow was across the man’s pulped face.

“Will you kindly hurry up,” she said, and after ten minutes, they pulled up outside the bowling clubhouse.

“Thank fuck for that,” she said, opening the door and falling out.

“Come on let’s get these kids found,” said Sam.

It took longer than they thought, perhaps half an hour, and it wasn’t just Boyd listening out for helicopters. The paranoia began to seep into them all, but they worked on at the tree where they had buried the seeds.

Chantelle’s body joined the others. Inside Dorothy’s handbag there was a diary and pen, along with various items for crochet, including several pins. She concocted a suicide note for them all and stuck it into the middle of the tree.

‘ We could not take the trauma of getting lost. Goodbye everyone’. They each read it and laughed.

“Honestly,” said Ian, “we know sometimes police and teachers can be thick, but they won’t be falling for this”. They all agreed, and stepped away from their handiwork.

“Well that was us,” said Sam, looking up at the tree.

“It shouldn’t have been though,” said Herbie, “we should have been back here in years if it wasn’t for that fucker Kieran”.

“Yes,” said Sam quietly, “alright, let’s go”. They had decided to have a slight bump in the cars on the lane, as if they had been driving at each other head-on, with only minor damage. Broken headlights and dented bumpers, the man’s body against the steering wheel, most of the contents of his head on his lap and between his feet.

The others just stared for a few moments more at the tree before they turned and walked away, heading back towards the village.

145

Dorothy was the last to turn away from the seven bodies of the children hanging from the tree by police ticker-tape.