DEVIL’S PAWN: Death Is Slow, Revenge Is Sweet

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The car was wrecked, but it was not beyond repair. It had somehow flipped over as it fell, so it was now upside down, and only the roof and the windshield were badly damaged.

Getting it out of the gully would be more challenging than getting it fixed. The rear tyres were still spinning lazily. Emeka spent minutes assessing the damage, a murderous rage growing within him.

He tried to force the door open, but it was stuck. It wouldn’t budge an inch. The crushed roof stopped it from opening. The window and windshield openings were no more. The only option was to cut his way into the car. Emeka stamped his feet.

He walked to the rear of the car thinking of a way out. The trunk was open, and some items had spilled to the ground. He rummaged through and found his adze. It would do the trick. He returned to one of the doors.

He hesitated at first. The prospect of having to cut his car with a small axe weakened him. It had to be done though. He shrugged.

The front door at the passenger side was less crushed, so he attacked that side. He aimed at the handle and got a little opening. He made no progress beyond that point. It was easier to hack a human being, he realized.

After five more minutes of frenzied hacking, he decided to look for something else among the items spilled from the boot. He picked up his jack and returned to the door.

He inserted the pointed end of the jack into the hole he had made with the adze and pulled, trying to pry the door open.

Minutes later, he had only succeeded in bending the jack.

He dropped the jack and stamped on the door in anger. Perhaps it was the force behind the kick or just plain luck; the door opened up a bit.

His phone and wallet dropped to his feet. Emeka opened his mouth and shook his head in disbelief. He pulled at the door, and the door opened a little bit further.

The opening was now large enough for him to squeeze in and remove his gun from under the steering where he had strapped it with Velcro tape. He found the pack of cigarettes too, but he left it. It was the hemp he needed. His hand touched the fist-sized wrap. He grabbed it and backed out of the car.

He tried to put on the phone so he could call Skulls. The phone did not come on, even after he had removed the battery and replaced it. Its touch screen was cracked, so he assumed it was bad, since the battery had been fully charged before the accident.

“Shit.”

He began the journey to the X-zone, on foot.

…

Skulls lay sprawled on the ground. Simon set about him like a mad man, hitting him all over. The only clothing left on Skulls was his T-shirt, and it was soaked with blood. Simon had pulled off his pants and boxer after breaking his arms and ankles with the pipe.

His skull was cracked.

It bled and ached horribly. At some point, he stopped feeling the blows. His body was already a sea of pain, and breathing was hard. It felt like his rib cage was shattered.

Twice, he had tried to run and each time, he’d ended up worse. The last time, he had gotten as far as the car. He had almost got his hands on the pistol he’d left on his seat before the pipe was smashed against his head from behind. The pistol was now stuck in Simon’s belt. Now he understood what Simon meant back at the apartment when he had asked about the pipe.

If only he had known. But it was too late.

“I asked you the other time if you enjoyed ramming you sick dick into her arse.”

Skull coughed and spat bloody sputum.

“Well, you are about to know how she felt then.”

He turned Skulls face down then knelt beside him.

“I hope you enjoy this as much as you enjoyed her,” Simon added.

You don’t have much time. The other one is coming.

Simon rolled up his sleeves and parted Skulls’ buttocks with his left hand. The boils oozed smelly puss, fouling the air. Simon wrinkled his nose and turned away for a while.

A gust of wind swept by, carrying with it the foul smell. Simon smiled with gratitude. He parted the buttocks again and began to force the pipe into Skulls’ anus, grinding the boils in the process.

Skulls froze with shock at the initial thrust.

A fresh wave of excruciating pain washed over his body and he screamed as the pipe tore through his anus mercilessly. She’d said it, he thought. She’d said they’d wish they were never born. That was the way he felt right now.

His face was drained of colour as the pain grew unbearable, and he broke down in tears. They came big and fast, his first in many years. He was broken.

“Please… stop … you’re killing me,” he begged.

“Simon laughed, “I told you we’re just getting started. You ain’t seen anything yet.”

He left the pipe in Skulls’ anus and stood up. Then he gave it a final push with his leg.

Skulls jerked once and passed out.

…

NINE

I know the riddles of the jailer man.

I am the breeze, catch me if you can.

I go and come however I please,

For me and the reaper have shared a kiss

Agent Judd lived only half an hour’s drive away from Buscan University. He parked the marked Toyota Hilux truck in the garage. All the lights were on in his house, but he knew there was no one at home. His wife had called earlier to say she would be going to church for a vigil.

At the front door, a smile which started from his eyes gradually covered his face. He laughed out.

He always smiled every time he got home. His friends on the force had even made a joke about his attachment to his wife. It was always worth coming home whenever he could.

Martha was a good wife and even a better home-keeper. Everything was always in its place in the five bedroom house they had bought together. She took care of the house as though it was a baby.

But even in the bliss, sometimes the emptiness of the house got to him. A few children messing up the house would have been nice. He wanted the children just like Martha, but they just wouldn’t come.

As he entered the house, his mind went to the discussion he’d had with Martha a week back when he had met her crying in the bathroom. He had known the reason for her tears before he asked her. The bloodstains on her dress said it all. It was another miscarriage.

Margaret loved babies and wanted one of hers desperately. He wanted one too, especially with his mother’s nagging, but his wife was a good woman and he could wait. If only one of the numerous miscarriages she had had stayed to become a baby, he thought wistfully.

He could smell her perfume in the air. That meant it was not quite long since she had (just) left. There was another smell wafting towards his nostril from the kitchen. It was the smell of fresh baking. He dropped his case, and went into the kitchen.

His nose hadn't fooled him. There was a large cake on the table. It was missing a huge chunk. Martha must have given some of the cake to someone. He helped himself to a big slice.

There was a note tucked beneath the cake: "Dinner is in the fridge."

Martha. He smiled again.

…

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEDNESDAY...

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