Definitely Dead by Kate Bendelow (howl and other poems TXT) 📕

discomfort he was in. Who had the fucking audacity to keep him like this?

He had long since given up on banging his feet against the container wall to gather attention. He knew there was no chance of anybody being nearby. That was the reason he and Nowak had chosen this location in the first place. And that was exactly why he had intended to bring Maya here. It should have been her hog-tied like this and coated in her own fear and excrement, not him. She needed to learn her lesson. Whereas he had no idea why he was being kept like this. But when he did, that person would pay, and he would enjoy every second of pain he could inflict upon him.

His bouts of unconsciousness had thankfully eased off, and although he was far from well, the intensity of the pain in his head had lessened. He was also beginning to feel the benefits of having consumed the food and water left out for him. He had even managed several times to successfully get back on his feet, as much as his constraints would allow. Now he was sat with his aching back resting along the wall of the container, when he heard a noise. He held his breath as he strained to listen more closely. He had definitely heard a car door slamming.

Then he heard the sure and certain sound of footsteps. The scraping of the metal bolts being drawn back. He was on his feet quicker than a prize fighter, senses primed and raring to attack. He was shocked to register the face of the person, but the relief of being saved was all encompassing. He didn’t even care about asking questions. He just wanted to be untied and let out.

‘Well, I never thought I’d be pleased to see you.’ He let out an uncharacteristic high-pitched laugh. ‘What are you waiting for? Come and untie me,’ he demanded angrily. Then he stopped. He was stunned at the sight in front of him. ‘What’s going on? Wh… wh… what the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

His earlier relief was replaced with fresh fear and his bowels turned to soup. The figure strolled towards him with all the confidence of someone who had the upper hand.

And a loaded handgun.

76

Maya’s legs were shaking so violently with fear she could barely stand. She had never been more terrified in her life. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to get out, but there was nowhere for her to run. Lurch filled the door with his massive bulk, his head skimming the top of the door frame. Gasping, Maya staggered backwards until she felt the edge of the couch dig into her calves. She sank down wordlessly, without once breaking eye contact with him.

She flinched as he walked towards her, but he merely reached over to switch the hi-fi off before returning to stand in front of the door.

‘Wh… wh… where’s Spence?’

‘He’s not here. It’s just us.’

‘What do you want?’ The words were barely audible, more than a whisper. She sank back into the couch, wrapping her arms around her shins, trying to shrink away from him.

‘To talk to you. That Spence? I took his phone. It was the only thing I could think of to get you here.’

‘Is this to do with Marcus Naylor?’ Maya gulped back tears, sickened by the sound of his name in her mouth.

‘Who? No.’ Lurch was clenching his fists in frustration. ‘I TOLD you. I just need to talk.’

‘Okay, sorry.’ Maya raised her hands placatingly. ‘I’m listening.’

‘I need your help…’

Maya was stunned to see the big man stifle a sob as he searched for the next words.

‘I’ve done something bad. Because of you. For you. And now I don’t know what to do.’ Lurch groaned like a wounded animal. Maya was horrified to see him raise his fists and begin to hit his head.

She leant forward, pleading soothingly despite her own fear. ‘Hey, please don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.’

This was obviously the right reaction, as Lurch stopped straight away. He dropped his fists to his sides, but his face remained lowered, unable to look Maya in the eye.

Maya became aware how volatile the man clearly was. She knew she would have to choose her words and actions carefully if she was going to get out of this situation unharmed.

‘I can see something is upsetting you. I bet it’s not easy to talk about.’ She paused, letting the words sink in. ‘But you’ve got me here to help you. You said you’ve done something bad. Do you want to talk about that first?’

Lurch swiped at his eyes before nodding glumly. He still couldn’t make eye contact and instinctively she knew, if she was going to be able to communicate with him effectively, that that would have to change.

‘Listen to me,’ she managed a soft laugh, ‘I’m asking you to talk to me and I don’t even know your name. I guess you know I’m Maya. Who are you?’

This did the trick as he raised his head. ‘Lurch.’ He drooled slightly. ‘My real name is Sydney. But everyone calls me Lurch.’

A cold chill ran through Maya. It ran down her spine to her legs and almost paralysed her with shock. She recognised the name from the briefing at Ryan Johnson’s murder. Lurch aka Sydney Barber. She recalled it being read out and how Elaine had snorted with laughter at the name.

This was Donnelly and Nowak’s henchman. The monster who was believed responsible for the violent murder of Ryan Johnson. She recalled the haunting images of Ryan’s shattered skull and her eyes widened with fear. This was the same monster who had terrorised her in her own bed. She flinched uncontrollably, inching towards the back of the couch as her eyes frantically scanned the room for an escape route. Should she scream? From what she had seen of the estate, even if the neighbours were in, it was highly unlikely they would be the