Seventy-six

He leaned against the door of the shed and closed his eyes tight.

Thunder rolled across the sky.

I can’t let her win again! he thought.

She said Helen was near the church. Near the church…

“Honey, you okay?” Sherrie was by his side.

He nodded, but kept his eyes closed.

“There’s nothing here,” she said.

He nodded again.

Near the church…

But where?

She said near the church.

Where else? WHERE?

And then his stomach flipped over.

Oh Jesus fucking Christ!

The graveyard!

It all made sense to him. He remembered the freshly dug mounds he had seen on Saturday night.

She’s done this before, he thought. She’s killed before! And that’s where Helen will be!

In the graveyard.

Oh God! Oh God!

He opened his eyes as lightning flashed again. It was one last chance to check the shed, but he knew it was empty.

Sherrie was kneeling down, looking at the ground, her hand stretched out towards the puddles.

“There’s drag marks here,” she said to him. “And they’re not very old.”

“Huh?” He tried to concentrate on what she was saying, “What do you mean?”

“Someone’s dragged something, or someone, out of here just recently and left two drag marks in the ground. Look!”

John bent down next to Sherrie. There was enough illumination from the security lights for him to make out two long trails left in the ground. They were gouged deeply into the mud and the rain was pooling in them. They started from somewhere in the shed, crossed some tyre tracks and led off towards the side of the church.

And towards the graveyard!

Maybe Helen hasn’t been buried in the graveyard yet.

Maybe Zoe’s doing that now!

Oh God!

Shit!

I have to stop her!

I have to stop it all!

John stood and grabbed Sherrie’s hand.

“Quickly,” he said over the thunder. “I know where she is!”

They turned and ran back through the mud and puddles to the side of the church. He didn’t have any trouble spotting the paved path heading off into the bushes. Almost by instinct he knew where it would be.

And he was right.

The rain fell heavy and hard as they ran down the wet, slippery path.

As they did so, they left the floodlights and the church behind them. The night swallowed them again in its claustrophobic blanket of dark.

“John,” Sherrie called from behind him. “Slow down!”

But he didn’t have the time. He couldn’t. He had to get to the graveyard.

Have to save Helen…

She’s dead!

But I still have to save her!

The cold night air seemed clammy now, closing in and pushing down on them with the rain.

It was dark, but he knew what was up ahead.

Come on, come on…

Quickly!

A new set of lights illuminated from in front of him.

Yes!

He squinted for a moment as he ran onto the tennis court, but he didn’t stop.

He knew where he was headed.

He turned, his feet sliding on the wet clay of the court, and sprinted towards the gap in the trees and the path to the graveyard.

“John!” Sherrie called from behind him.

Not now. I have to get there!

“John! Stop!”

No! I can’t! Not now!

“John, Helen’s here!”

Huh? What?

John skidded to a halt just a few short feet away from the path to the graveyard.

He turned around slowly.

Sherrie was standing to the side of the tennis court, leaning on one of the tennis net poles. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving, and her eyes were looking away from him. Her finger was pointing across the court.

To the gazebo.

And the X-frame.

John followed her gaze.

No, oh no, Jesus, please no…

And through the rain he could see her.

Helen was tied to the X-frame in the gazebo.

Or what was left of her…

Lightning flashed above them. John could see her naked, battered and twisted body, the black and blue bruises, and the dried blood.

Nooooo!

This can’t be happening!

Nooooo!

He ran towards her, sprinting across the court and up the steps into the gazebo.

Sherrie called out to him, but he didn’t hear her over the thunder and the rain.

He didn’t look back.

All he could see was Helen’s beaten body.

All he could hear was the pitiful cry in his throat.

He stopped in front of her.

“Oh, Helen,” he whispered as he reached out and touched her cold, bloodied face.

She was tied to the X-frame in exactly the same position he had been on Monday night. Her bruised arms hung above her, stretched across the top of the X, and her cut and burned legs were tied at the bottom. John could see the damage done to her breasts by the fire poker; dark, ugly burn marks where Helen’s nipples used to be. They made the skin look as if it had melted on her body before drying into a putrefying black mass.

He could only imagine the pain she must’ve gone through.

Helen’s head looked different, out of shape; a large piece of skull near her forehead was compressed in an unnatural way. Her hair was matted and full of dried blood, and in some places missing completely, having been pulled out at the root.

Her face was turned to the side, looking away from him. Her eyes were shut and her mouth was open in what looked like a half-scream. John thought he saw tears rolling from her eyes, but he realised it was just the rain, rolling from her body.

Zoe must have dragged her from the shed.

He stepped closer, reaching out to touch her.

Oh, Helen, I’m so sorry.

But he couldn’t do it.

He lowered his head in shame.

I can’t even touch you. Not now.

His eyes looked lower.

Between Helen’s legs.

And he saw the silver ladle sticking out from Helen’s vagina.

No! No, Zoe…you didn’t!

Fuck!

No! No, how could you?

Oh fuck! No!

Lightning struck, reflecting off the silver handle.

He fell to his knees.

Nooooooooo!

The rain fell heavier, bouncing from the gazebo roof in a deafening cacophony of sound. Thunder rolled in.

You won’t do this, he thought as he reached out for the ladle. You can’t do this to her! It’s not her fault!

He grabbed hold of the cold handle with shaking hands. It was sticky – just like it was all those years ago.

I won’t have you treat her like this!

Slowly, he began pulling it from her body.

It came down slowly, streaked with blood and mucus and melted skin and darker specks of something.

John wiped the tears from his eyes.

Lightning struck as he continued to pull.

This is all my fault! But I wasn’t to know. I didn’t know then that all this would happen! How could I fucking know?

You deserved better, Helen, so much better.

I’m so sorry. I’m the reason you’re here!

And there’s nothing I can do about it now.

Thunder rolled.

And Sherrie screamed.

The thunder got louder.

Even louder.

The ladle slipped out of Helen and through his hands, falling to the floor with a clatter.

There, it’s done…

The thunder continued.

John sighed deeply, turned around and looked out to the tennis court.

Sherrie was yelling at him, frantically waving her hands in the air.

He couldn’t hear her.

“What?” he called.

The rain was too heavy on the roof.

The thunder too loud.

But then he realised it wasn’t thunder.

It was a motor he could hear.

Revving.

Getting louder.

He turned to his left just in time to see the tractor speeding towards him.

With Zoe at the wheel.