Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Imagine There's No Heaven - 6. Chapter 6
Bernard reached the Land Rover parked on the slope of the hill and inserted the key into the door lock when his heart stopped beating. He saw the man’s face in the reflection of the window and he knew he was in trouble. His chin quivered. His eyes watered over. His mouth went dry. He swung around to face the stranger and found himself staring down the barrel of a revolver. Instead of freezing, he tried to make a dash for it but the man grabbed him and threw him onto the ground.
‘Now, you little bastardy if you so much as yelp, I’ll shoot your fuckin’ brains out. Got it?’
Bernard nodded.
‘Get up and take me to your father.’
Bernard trembled as he stood and tried to insert the key into the lock. The keys fell to the ground. He didn’t see it coming, the man’s left hand slammed into his face and sent him sprawling into the dust.
‘Get up! Move it!’
Bernard tasted bile in his throat. This time the key went into the lock and the door opened. The man jumped in after him and waved the weapon in his face.
‘Now fuckin’ drive.’
***
‘Bernard’s taking his time.’ Richard said, looking at his watch.
‘Where exactly did you park?’ Colton asked.
‘Just over that hill. He should have been back by now.’
‘Well, it’s not far. Maybe he’s having trouble startin’ her up?’
‘Maybe. I’ll go take a look.’ Richard moved away with Colton behind him.
‘I’ll come too. If there’s somethin’ wrong we can try to fix it.’
‘Sure. You’re wel…’
It happened just then.
The Land Rover lurched over the hill and hit the gravel road with a jolt.
‘Jesus!’ Richard said. ‘What the hell?’
‘He knows how to drive.’ Colton said, laughing.
‘Where did he learn that?’
The vehicle weaved and screamed as it headed for the two men standing out in the open. Closer and closer, until finally it spun in a circle around them.
Richard noticed the second person immediately. ‘Who the fuck is with him?’
The hairs on Colton’s neck stiffened. Goose bumps peppered his arms.
The vehicle came to a screeching stop and Bernard tried to leap out of the vehicle first but the man grabbed him and pulled him out the passenger side with him.
Richard bolted towards them and the man waved his gun in the air and cunningly placed it against Bernard’s head.
‘Come any closer. Just one step mind you, and it’s over for the boy.’
Richard stopped, glared at the man then at Colton.
‘So, Colton Greaney,’ the man said, ‘why don’t you hand over the diary and I’ll let this boy free. But you know I’ll have to kill you both, don’t you?’
‘I don’t have the diary. It’s still at the hospital. I left it with Jack.’
‘I’m the last person you want to fuck with Greaney. I would dearly love to plug your gay arse with seven holes, but you need to co-operate. See, I don’t have time to play games. The diary.’
He cocked the weapon and placed the barrel on Bernard’s head. ‘On the count to five, Greaney. By then I expect the diary to be lyin’ on the ground. One…’
‘That’s my son you have there.’ Richard said. ‘If you so much as move a hair on his head, I’m going to kill you.’
‘Well, it seems as though I have the upper hand here, mister. Nothing you say, or do will change anythin’. Two.’
‘What diary is he talking about?’ Richard whispered to Colton.
‘Long story. Later.’
‘What the fuck do you mean later? This guy is aiming a gun at my son’s head and you say later…’
‘Three…’
‘Give him the goddamned diary!’ Richard shouted.
‘Okay, okay, it’s in the bike’s fairin’. I’m goin’ to have to get it.’ Colton said.
‘No!’ the man said, ‘he can go. You stay where you are.’
Colton whispered into Richard’s ear. ‘It’s in the left hand side fairin’. Bring whatever you see in there. Leave nothing inside…’
‘Move it or the kid dies. Now!’
Richard backed away with the bike’s keys and disappeared behind the bushes. He approached the bike, opened the left fairing and lifted the cover.
Inside was a small notebook, and a gun. His hands trembled when he touched the weapon. It sent icicles up his spine. At first he hesitated to pick it up, but the realisation that his son was being held hostage by some unknown man made him thrust out his hand and grab the weapon.
Bernard was in a neck grip when he returned. He handed the diary to Colton who held it in the air.
‘Step forward three paces and put the diary on the ground. Any clever move and this boy gets it.’
‘The boy first.’ Colton said. ‘You want this, I want the boy. A fair trade off.’
‘You don’t call the shots here, Greaney. Three steps forward. On the count of…’
‘Listen mister,’ Richard said, stepping forward. ‘I don’t know what this is all about but that’s my son you have in a vice grip. If you so much as harm one hair on his head. I’m going to kill you.’
‘Get back! One more step and you both die. The diary, Greaney.’
***
Sue snapped out of her malaise. She had no idea where Colton was headed, but she knew that he’d contact her from somewhere. She wiped her face with cold water and got the gun from under her pillow and placed it gently on the table in the dining room. Staring at it, she remembered the last time she held a gun, and the last time she saw Inspector Grant Ferguson. Twenty years back. He sat beside her in his car outside her parent’s house, holding her hand, staring directly into her eyes.
I know this is going to be hard on you and the kid, Sue. But this will have to be the last time we see each other.
She stared at him with disbelief in her eyes. Could it be that she was dreaming, and he had not said those words. The father of her six month old son. Their son. No more no less. She didn’t say a word, but pulled her hand away.
Please, don’t make it more difficult than it already is, Sue. I would make a terrible father. I don’t have patience with kids.
You bastard! He’s your child. He’s our child. He deserves nothing less than loving parents. But there’s more to this. It’s not just because you would be a terrible father. Much more. And guess what, Grant, I know all about Sarah.
Yes. It’s Sarah. Colton was a big mistake.
Mistake? You call creating a child a mistake? And come the day that she bears your kids, will they be mistakes?
She can’t have kids. When he’s old enough to understand, tell him his father is dead. Make up a story, anything. I’ll help pay for his upbringing. I’ll help pay for his schooling, but whatever you do, I suggest you don’t tell anyone about us. If you do, I’ll stop all support.
She glared at him with piteous eyes. No longer was he a man of his word. No longer was he a man. All he had ever wanted was to fuck her and be done with it. Her pregnancy set him back and this was his way out of it. He would never marry her. He would never be a father to their child. He wanted nothing to do with Colton. He wanted nothing to do with her. That night she decided that her son of six months would never know his father. That night she pushed Grant Ferguson far into her subconscious and handed in her badge and weapon. Amazing how circumstances always came full circle to haunt and bite. Damn him!
Now, staring at the gun, she was amazed that she still knew how to handle one. Surely Grant knew now that Colton was his son. Surely he’d do anything in his power to make sure that he was safe.
Maybe not.
She reached out to touch the weapon at the moment the door to her apartment flew open. She spun around to face three men, all three of them wielding weapons aimed directly at her.
She dived and hit the floor clutching her gun. Without realising it she squeezed the trigger several times and watched as one of them flew backwards, his gun flying through the air, it landed on a dining room chair.
The others fearlessly moved towards her and one of them grappled the weapon out of her hand while the other stood calmly, pointing the gun at her head. They placed her on a chair and tied her hands behind her without saying a word.
‘We want Colton. So make it easy on yourself. Where is he?’
She closed her eyes and remained silent. A back-hander slapped her face.
‘Where the fuck is he? You don’t have much time, so best you talk now, bitch.’
***
Jack’s tears fell for the love of a man he would never see again. He had never felt so alone. He had never felt such unbearable pain. He had no idea how long he had to live. They could kill him anytime. He hoped that Colton and Sue were safe. Colton was soft, they’d have an easy time getting him to fall in with their plans, and then they’d kill him. It was just a question of time before they were all dead and even while he was thinking this, a hand gently touched his shoulder.
‘Shhh. Don’t say a word. ’
‘What the fuck?’
‘I’m not going to hurt you. We have to get out of here. Fast. Just don’t try to speak.’ The man untied the ropes and lifted him out of the chair.
‘We haven’t got much time. Trust me. There are two guys upstairs in a drunken stupor, two have gone out to the supermarket, and Peter has gone home. He’ll be back in fifteen minutes.’
‘Who….who are you?’ Jack asked.
‘You’ll know soon enough. For now, focus on getting out of here.’ The pain was worse in his head as he concentrated on placing one foot before the other. He had no option but to trust this stranger. Slowly they climbed the stairs and a door opened.
The man softly said, ‘Hold onto my belt. Stay behind me. Whatever happens, don’t let go.’
They walked across a wooden floor and every now and then it creaked sharply. Jack heard slurring voices in the background as they spoke about how many more drinks they could consume before passing out. Then silence.
The man leading him crouched low as they passed a counter between the living room and the dining room. They crept towards the front door on all fours and just reached it when a car pulled up in the driveway and the door slammed shut.
To Be Continued
- 8
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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