Out of Promises (5 page)

v

Opening his eyes to the glare of the hospital lights, Freddie’s pounding head sent lightning bolts through him.  Dazed and dehydrated, a drip attached to his arm gave him everything he needed.  They’d also bandaged his feet.

Sitting beside him was man of around forty year old and a teenage girl.

The man said, ‘My name is Mr. Matherson.  What’s yours?’

‘Freddie.’

‘You should think yourself lucky Valerie found you when she did.’

Freddie looked at her and she winked at him with a smile.

Matherson continued, ‘What were you doing in my parking lot?’

Even at this young age, Freddie sensed the hostile tone.

‘Tell me.’

‘I ran away.’

‘Where from?’

He didn’t answer.

‘Don’t ignore me.’

‘Northbrook Children’s Home.’

‘That’s the one outside of town isn’t it?’

He nodded.

‘Why did you run away?’

Scared, but happy to be telling someone, Freddie explained about the children crying, the photo album, the loading area with the boxes, and being chased before jumping from a window.

Matherson saw something in him, an early sense of strength and determination.  ‘I see,’ he said.  ‘Well those days are over.  How would you like me or Valerie to take care of you?  We can give you food and a nice comfy bed.  What do you think?  No more children’s homes.’

A warm place and food with the security he needed?  How could a depraved child refuse?  Without hesitation, he said, ‘Yes.’

‘OK, Freddie, but you have to promise me something.’

‘What?’

‘You have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone else about what you saw there.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because if you do I’ll put you back on the streets.’

Edging towards Valerie for comfort, he just nodded..

Matherson smiled and left the room without another word leaving Valerie alone with him.

She waited for him to leave before taking a seat on the bed beside Freddie.  She said, ‘Freddie, you need to listen to me.  You need to be careful, Matherson seems like a nice man, but he isn’t.’

‘He is a kind man.’

‘Trust me.  He’ll look after you until you are old enough to work for him.  He rescued me from the streets when I was ten, the same age as you.  After a few years he had me working for him.  I’ve been working tonight.’

He looked at the bruises on her wrists and neck.  ‘What kind of work?’

‘I don’t want to go into detail.  Let’s just say it’s not a good life, but it beats the streets.  I don’t like the idea of you living like I do.  Just promise me that when the time comes, you’ll get out of here.’

vi

At four in the morning, Matherson was seething.  He’d called his best men to meet him at his headquarters.  They were: Sharpe Swift, his brother Preston, Nicky Nelson, and Rodriguez Vega.

Rodriguez was a tall, stocky thirty one year old Mexican with long dark hair.  Being an ex-smuggler with a good reputation was what attracted Matherson to him.  Nicky had been with Matherson for twenty years.  He was a man with a knack for being impatient, but loyal to the end.  He joined the organization after inadvertently killing a man Matherson wanted out of the way during a bar fight.  Sharpe and Preston were different; they were the sons of one of Matherson’s closest friends, a friend who died on a job leaving them angry and bitter enough to want revenge.

Matherson was sitting at his desk with the four of them standing in a row facing him.

‘I’ve asked you here because I need you all to do something for me,’ Matherson said.  ‘It’s a delicate matter and won’t be easy, but it has to be done.  Someone has let me down badly and I need you four to make it right.’

‘Anything, Mr. Matherson,’ said Sharpe.

‘Good.  You do this for me and you’ll find yourselves in better positions.’  He stood up and continued, ‘When it’s done, we can never speak of this again.  Not to anyone within the business, not your friends, not anyone, got it?’

All four of them said, ‘Yes, Mr. Matherson.’

He told them everything: the boys, the staff, and Freddie.  ‘The last thing we need is another kid escaping and talking.  You torch that place, you hear me?  Make sure no one survives, and I mean no-one.  I don’t want them talking to anyone.  Take a truck and empty the goods then burn the building.  I’ll deal with the police.  I want it done tomorrow night so make sure you get some sleep.’

Rodriguez said, ‘You want us to kill children, Mr. Matherson?’

‘Is there a problem with your hearing?  I don’t want anyone alive.  If you have a problem tell me now and someone else can do it.’

‘No problems, Mr. Matherson.’

‘Good.  Freddie will come and work for me.  I have a good feeling about him.  Make him feel welcome.’

vii

The next night at one in the morning, the four chosen men had picked up an eight wheeler from their depot and were on their way to Northbrook.  Sharpe was driving with Rodriguez beside him.  Preston and Nicky were in the back.

Sharpe took the longer way around, coming into contact with the fewest amount of people as possible.  The journey was quiet.

Rodriguez looked ahead at the empty road, deep in thought.  ‘Killing kids,’ he said, letting out a long breath.  ‘This is tough.’

‘Just do as you’re told,’ Preston yelled through the hatch separating the front from the back. ‘We gotta look out for each other in there.  We don’t need any problems.’

Coming up to the turning for the home, Sharpe killed the headlights and followed the overgrown driveway to the loading bay, located to the left of the building.

Nicky said, ‘What’s with this Freddie kid?  We don’t need another kid joining us.’

‘Valerie turned out OK,’ said Sharpe.

‘She’s still young.’

‘She’s filling out nicely.  Can’t wait to see her in a few years.’

‘You’re a sick man, Sharpe.’

Sharpe revered the truck to the shutter doors and jumped out.  ‘What a shithole.’

Rodriguez said, ‘These doors only open from the inside.’

‘I’ll go in,’ Preston said, grabbing the Mossberg 590 riot shotgun from behind the seat.

‘Be careful,’ said Sharpe.

‘Who’s gonna mess with me holding this little shotgun here?’

After walking through the knee high grass and stumbling over lost toys and uneven stones, Preston stood in darkness at the front of the building.  There were no lights on anywhere.  To his right, the staff quarters were also in darkness, as was the Bridge.  He was open, exposed, feeling eyes on him.

Putting his face to the small frosted glass window on the door, he tried to make out any movement.  There was none.  The door was also locked.  He pounded on it.  ‘Hey, open up.’

Nothing.

The door was too strong to kick down so he searched for another entry point, which meant wading through more of the secretive tall grass.

Dog Trap Woods rustled around him with the haunting coo of owls screaming out.  He was afraid.  Afraid of the unpredictable.  People, he could understand, but not animals, not in the dark.

Treading carefully, he felt the crunch of broken glass beneath a smashed window.  He’d found Freddie’s escape route.  ‘Good idea,’ he said aloud, smashing the window below with the butt of his shotgun.

He climbed in to another classroom.

After waiting to see if he’d alerted anyone, he ventured through the silent corridors, wondering where everyone was, and why the place was deadly silent.

The sound of a child screaming came from the staff room ahead.

He approached the door, the screams growing louder, clawing at his ears like a relentless siren making his blood boil.  He cocked his shotgun.  Taking a deep breath, he kicked the door open breaking lock.  The door swung open showing four men and one woman standing around a scruffy looking boy in a chair, crying; everyone one of them turning to look with an expression that told it all: they’d been caught.

‘Nobody move,’ he said calmly.

Nobody did.

‘Untie that boy and send him over here.’

Slowly, one of the men bent down and untied the boy.

Preston knew he had to kill everyone here, even the kids, but he couldn’t kill this boy.  He felt sorry for him.

The boy ran to him, crying. Keeping his weapon on the others, Preston told the kid: ‘Wait in the corridor, close the door and cover your ears.’

The boy did as asked, leaving them alone.

Preston was just as sadistic as his brother.  With a smile great satisfaction, he popped one of the men’s noses with the butt of his shotgun before kicking his testicles as hard as he could with his size elevens.  The guy screamed while rolling around on the ground.

‘You like using that thing!?’ he yelled.  ‘Well you can fuck Satan in hell you piece of shit.’

The other four didn’t move and just watched with mouths agape as Preston kicked the man again and again before aiming the shotgun down at his head and pulling the trigger.

Seeing their colleague’s head disappear into the floor told the others one thing: they were going to die.

Preston turned to them.

‘Please don’t do this,’ begged the lady, falling to her knees.

Even with his hands over his ears, the boy on the other side of the door heard with every shot.  Blood trickled around his feet.  He knew what was happening.

Moments later, Preston walked out covered in it.  He said, ‘What’s your name, boy?’

He didn’t answer him.

‘Go and wait for me outside, OK?  Hide in the trees near the main road.  I’ll come for you, I promise.  I’ve got something I need to do first.’

Sensing freedom, the boy ran along the corridor, disappearing around the corner.

Preston closed the staff room door and walked to the loading area, unlocking it with a key he’d taken from one of the bodies.

The shutters ascended and he found the others waiting impatiently in front of the open truck.

They looked him over with puzzled expressions.

Sharpe said, ‘Took your sweet time.  You run into trouble?’

‘No trouble.’

They each grabbed crates and cases full of shotguns, sub-machine guns, tobacco, and alcohol.

‘Matherson sure knows how to smuggle shit into the city, don’t he?’ said Nicky.

Sharpe and Rodriguez grabbed a shotgun and a couple of gas canisters each and began pouring throughout the two buildings.

viii

The unbearable smell of the gas stung their noses as they coated the floors with it, taking care in the bedrooms to avoid waking anyone from their soon to be permanent sleep, paying extra attention to the doors and windows, trapping anyone inside.

Over the Bridge, they poured some more through the empty staff quarters, covering each expensive and well-made comfortable bed; a palace compared to the other side.

Sharpe asked, ‘Where is everyone?’

‘I don’t know, or care,’ said Rodriguez, methodically pouring.

They followed the maze of corridors, inevitably reaching the staff room.

‘Jeez,’ said Sharpe with a smile.  ‘So this is where everyone is.  Preston had some fun.’

Rodriguez ignored him and finished pouring the gas over the bodies. 

‘That should do it, right?’ said Sharpe.

They retraced their steps towards the loading area.

The longer they stayed there, the more uncomfortable Rodriguez felt.  ‘We shouldn’t be killing children man, this is wrong,’ he whispered, looking at Sharpe’s emotionless face, realizing what an empty, shallow bastard he was.  Rodriguez’s image of how his own role in the business had changed from smuggling, to massacring children knocked him sick.  As he watched the innocent children sleeping, he knew in his heart that it was wrong.

‘Will you stop bitching and just do your job,’ Sharpe snapped.

‘Don’t you have a conscience?  This is wrong.’

‘For fuck sake, you sound like an old lady.  Dorothy Rodriguez.  Hmm, it has a nice ring to it.’

‘Fuck you.’

Sharpe carried on laughing, spraying what little gas he had remaining at Rodriguez.

‘Fucking prick,’ he said, feeling like grabbing hold of the can and smashing it into Sharpe’s face.

‘Just do your job, Dorothy.’

Back at the loading bay, Preston and Nicky had filled half of the truck.

‘All taken care of,’ Sharpe said as he entered.

‘Both buildings?’

‘Of course.  Although it looks like you’ve already taken half of the building out yourself.’ He held out his shotgun to him.  ‘You want to finish everyone else off?’

Preston hit it away.  ‘Help us with the rest of this shit.’

Twenty minutes and ten crates later, they closed the doors to the truck and were almost ready to leave when the quiet sound of a child crying was like poison to their ears.

They paused.

‘Who the hell is that?’ asked Nicky.

‘How should I know?’ said Sharpe.  ‘Go and see.’

Rodriguez offered to go and walked out of the loading bay closing the door behind him.

The child was in his pyjamas standing alone in the middle of the corridor crying.  With no idea what to do, Rodriguez looked around for something, anything he could find to help, be it a cupboard to hide him in, or a window to escape through, just something to fit him inside.  The kid was a long way from the other children, but the cries would echo through the hollow canyon in seconds.

‘What are you doing?  Just kill him.’

Rodriguez turned around to see Nicky watching him with a shotgun over his shoulder.

Edging towards the child, Rodriguez said, ‘I’ll deal with it.’

The boy continued to crying.

Nicky walked passed him and up to the child.  ‘I don’t think you will,’ he said, hitting the boy across his face with the Mossberg.  Blood hit the ground in a kind of U shape shortly followed by the kid.  Raising the shotgun to hit him again, Rodriguez grabbed it from his hands and kicked him with his strong, tree trunk legs to the floor.

He grabbed the child, running farther into the home.

‘Rodriguez!’ Nicky shouted and chased after him.

Without a pause, Rodriguez turned and shot Nicky in the stomach.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

Sharpe and Preston stormed through the doors thirty feet away, weapons ready.

‘Rodriguez?’ shouted Sharpe.  ‘What are you doing?’

‘We shouldn’t be here.’

The grip on the boy loosened and he fell to the ground, still crying.

Leaning down to pick him up, Rodriguez hadn’t seen Sharpe and Preston charging towards him until it was too late.

They tackled him to the ground, pinning him down.

‘You sick bastards!’ he yelled.

Sharpe said, ‘I say we leave them here in the home,’

‘Hold him down,’ said Preston, before kicking him in the face, busting his nose.  ‘You can join your little boyfriend in the afterlife can’t you?’  Raising his foot, he stomped on him, knocking him out cold.

Then he did the same to the screaming child.

They carried the bodies to the staff quarters, tying them each to a chair, still unconscious. Sharpe poured gas over them before hurrying back to the loading area quickly in case the commotion had awakened anymore children.

Preston stayed behind to start the fire giving Sharpe a chance to get the truck away.