Lucas (25 page)

As we approached the hedge, Brendell lit a cigarette and blew smoke into the air. He ogled me for a moment then spoke to Jamie.

‘There's no time for that,' he said.

‘Shut up. Where's McCann?'

Brendell shrugged. ‘Sleeping.'

Jamie shoved me towards the hedge. ‘Go on.'

I looked at him.

‘
Move
,' he hissed.

I climbed through the gap in the hedge. Brendell took hold of my arm and dragged me to one side. Across the lane, Dominic was lying in the verge with his knees tucked up into his chest. Blood was dribbling from his mouth and an ugly bruise was already beginning to colour the side of his head. I started pulling towards him, but Brendell just flicked his wrist and tugged me back. The strength in his arm was incredible.

‘What have you done to him?' I cried.

Brendell ignored me.

‘What have you
done
?'

He tightened his grip and a blinding pain creased my arm. When I yelped he glanced at me. His eyes were blank holes.

‘He's breathing,' he said, glancing at Dom.

Simple as that.

Meanwhile, Jamie had squeezed through the gate and was taking a long swig from the whiskey bottle. Brendell just watched him. When Jamie had finished drinking he took a deep breath and looked around. His feet were steady on the ground but his upper body was circling.

‘What's the time?' he said.

Brendell looked at his watch. ‘Six – just gone.'

Jamie belched and spat on the ground. He looked up the lane. ‘Where the hell is he?'

‘He'll be here,' Brendell said calmly.

Jamie turned his eyes on me. I couldn't stand the way he was looking at me and I had to lower my eyes to the ground. It was quiet for a minute. I looked over at Dominic. The blood had stopped running from his mouth. He still wasn't moving, but I could see his chest rising, and I thought I could see a faint fluttering movement of his lips. I heard Jamie sigh and start towards me.

‘It's no good, Lee,' he said. ‘I got it good for this one. You'll have to take the gyppo on your own.'

I heard Brendell mutter something under his breath. Then he said, ‘Not now, Jamie. Save it.'

‘Can't,' he said.

I was still looking at the ground when I felt Jamie's hand on my neck. I flinched and ducked away. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me towards him. Brendell let go of my arm. Jamie jerked my head, making me look at him. His jaw was set tight and his eyes were out of control.

‘Time for a walk in the woods,' he said, letting go of my hair and grabbing my hand. He started pulling me towards the gate. I dug my feet in and resisted. He stopped and stared at me.

‘You might as well make it easy on yourself,' he said.

‘My dad's going to tear you apart,' I said quietly.

He smiled. ‘Probably – but that's not going to help you much now, is it?'

The cold truth of his words momentarily sapped my strength, and as he tightened his grip on my arm and dragged me off towards the gate, I let myself go limp.
Struggling then was pointless, a waste of energy. Physical strength wasn't going to get me anywhere, he was far too strong for that. I had to use my head, think clearly, slow things down, wait for the right time, wait for the opportunity to surprise him.

As he yanked my arm again, pulling me upright, I glanced around. In the distance the woods spread out like a dark and dirty blanket tossed on the ground. I shuddered, imagining the stark trees and the barren earth and that cold, forgotten light …

Don't give up, I thought.

Never give up.

We were nearly at the gate now. Jamie was tugging me along at a frenzied pace, jerking on my arm, whipping it like I was a dog on a lead. He was breathing heavily. I looked over my shoulder at Brendell, hoping desperately that he might take pity on me. But he wasn't even looking. He was peeing in the hedge.

Jamie tugged my arm again and swung me round in front of the gate. I looked down into the woods. This is it, I thought. Last chance. If you go down there it won't be worth coming back.

As Jamie took a drink from the bottle, I studied the gate. It was an old wooden thing, about shoulder height. I couldn't be sure, but I reckoned he'd have to let go of my arm to get over it. Even if it was only for a second, that was enough. It had to be. I thought it through. Either he'd go over the gate first, in which case I'd run down the lane and head for the beach, or else he'd make me go over first … which meant running for the woods. That didn't exactly fill me with confidence – but it was a whole lot better than nothing.

‘You ready?' Jamie slurred. I looked at him. The bottle
in his hand was almost empty. He could hardly stand up. He rolled his head and looked at the gate, lurched to one side, then looked back at me. ‘I know what you're thinking,' he said. Then, with a loopy grin, he spun round and launched a kick at the gate. The hinges cracked, the gatepost split, and the whole thing toppled over and fell to the ground.

Jamie turned to me and winked, and with a sunken heart I bowed my head and said goodbye to my sanity.

I felt his hand tighten on my arm, and I bent my elbow to lessen the shock of another sharp yank – but it never came. I waited a few seconds and then eventually looked up, expecting to see him drinking again, or leering at me, but he wasn't. He was looking back up the lane. His eyes were suddenly sharp.

The next few minutes passed in a blur. At the time, it all happened so quickly that I couldn't take it in, but whenever I think about it now – and I think about it a lot – I can remember every little detail. I can remember the flash of the pale blue sky against the green of the hedges as I turned my head and looked up the lane, and I can remember the flood of emotions that flowed through my body as I saw Lucas striding down the lane. I can feel them right now, an intoxicating blend of ecstasy, fear, relief, hope, love – and loathing. For the first time in my life I wanted to see someone hurt.

Brendell lumbered into the middle of the lane to block Lucas's way. Standing tall, with his legs slightly apart and his hands hanging down at his sides, he looked enormous. In comparison, Lucas looked frail. But that didn't seem to bother him. He just walked directly at Brendell, never wavering and never taking his eyes off him. The closer he got, the less confident Brendell looked. His feet started
fidgeting. He scratched his head. He hunched his shoulders. I heard him say something, but Lucas said nothing. He just kept walking.

It was if Brendell didn't exist.

Lucas closed rapidly, walking like a man possessed. Brendell waited until he was less than a metre away, and then he made his move. For a big man, he was surprisingly fast, and as he steadied his feet and then suddenly lunged forward, I held my breath, expecting the worst. But Lucas was faster. The instant Brendell moved, he dodged to the left and then flashed to the right and snatched up a two-foot log from the hedgerow. It happened so fast that Bren-dell was still stumbling after thin air as Lucas rounded on him and hammered the log into the back of his head. A bone-shattering
whump
rang out and Brendell fell heavily to the ground. As he lay there, with one leg twitching in the dirt, Lucas stepped up, raised the log in both hands and brought it down on his head again.

‘
Jesus
,' whispered Jamie.

I'd forgotten he was there.

Lucas dropped the log and turned to face us. He was about thirty metres away, but I could see the look in his eyes. The savagery of it was frightening. As he started towards us, Jamie swung me round and grabbed me round the neck, holding me in front of him. I could feel the tension in his body. I could hear his terrified breathing in my ear. I could smell the panic in his sweat. He started dragging me towards the broken gate, and I thought for a minute he was going to run for it, but at the gate he stopped. I could sense him looking around, and I wondered what he was looking for. His arm was so tight around my neck I could hardly breathe. I tried telling him to loosen his grip, but all that came out was a throaty
squeak. Then he moved again, pulling me over to the broken gatepost with a strange grunting noise. His grip tightened, I felt a sudden movement behind me, and then I heard the hollow crash of breaking glass.

The next thing I knew he was holding the broken bottle to my face.

His hand was shaking and I could feel the jagged glass brushing against my cheek. I knew that if I looked at it I'd probably die of fright, so I kept my head still and focused on Lucas. He was coming towards us, walking down the lane with the same primitive determination as before – eyes fixed, face set, his body primed for action.

Sweat dripped into my eyes.

I could smell whiskey from the broken bottle.

As Lucas closed, Jamie dragged me away from the gate into the middle of the lane. His breathing was harsh and rapid now, as if he couldn't get any air into his lungs, and his skin was drenched in sweat. It smelled sour.

Lucas was almost upon us.

Jamie held me tighter. I felt the broken bottle press against my skin, and then his voice rasped in my ear. ‘That's far enough,' he warned Lucas. ‘Come any closer and I'll cut her face off.'

Lucas slowed and stopped. He was about a metre away. He didn't say anything. He didn't even look at me. He just kept his eyes fixed on Jamie as he reached behind him and pulled out a knife. Sunlight glinted on the wicked-looking blade. I recognised it as the one I'd seen hanging on the wall in his den.

Jamie stiffened and his arm tightened around my neck.

‘Drop it,' he said. ‘Drop it or I'll cut the bitch.'

‘Then what?'

Jamie hesitated. ‘You think I'm joking?'

Lucas shrugged. ‘I don't really care. I'm going to stick you anyway.' He raised the knife and held it balanced lightly in his hand.

Jamie was trembling now. His voice caught in his throat as he spoke. ‘Listen … if anything happens to me—'

‘Do you want to live?'

‘What?'

Lucas stepped forward and raised the knife, levelling it at Jamie's eyes. It was no more than an inch from my face. Lucas still hadn't looked at me. His face was blank and cold, emotionless. He spoke quietly. ‘Lose the bottle or I'll take your eyes out.'

‘You wouldn't—'

‘Do it.' The knife edged past me. ‘Now.'

The next few seconds lasted for ever. No one spoke. The heat bore down and the air was thick with the smell of honeysuckle and sweat. The background was a nonexistent blur. All I could see was Lucas. His hand, gripping the bone-handled knife. His face, his eyes, the pores of his skin. The lane was deathly quiet, interrupted only by the sound of Jamie's terrified breathing. He knew as well as I did that Lucas meant what he said. It wasn't a threat, it was a fact. Plain and simple. If he didn't drop the bottle and let me go, Lucas would use the knife. Jamie only had one option, and eventually he took it. With a strange little whimpering sound he relaxed his grip on my neck and stepped back. Seconds later I heard the broken bottle drop to the ground. I felt my knees go weak, and I thought for a moment I was going fall, but I managed to steady myself. Lucas hadn't moved a muscle. He still had the knife in his hand and he was still staring at Jamie.

‘Are you hurt?' he asked me.

‘I don't think so.'

‘Come here.'

I stepped towards him.

He said, ‘Move out of the way.'

‘What—'

‘Get behind me. Now.'

I stepped to one side and moved behind him. When I turned around I could see Jamie standing in front of us. His face was drawn and pale, he was shaking from head to toe, and his eyes were white with fear. It's hard to believe, but I almost felt sorry for him.

Lucas wasn't quite so sympathetic.

The moment I was safely out of the way, his knife hand lowered and he moved towards Jamie. Jamie barely had time to raise his hands in meek surrender before Lucas swung to one side and kicked him hard in the belly. As Jamie groaned and doubled over, Lucas grabbed him by the hair and brought his knee up into his face. Jamie's nose broke with a sickening crack and he slumped to the ground with blood pouring from his face.

I thought that was it. Enough. But I was wrong. Lucas hadn't finished. He hadn't even started.

As Jamie writhed on the ground holding his face in his hands, Lucas stepped over him and squatted down on his chest then pinned his arms to the ground with his knees and held the knife to his throat. Jamie coughed, spluttering up blood. Lucas stared at him for a moment then leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. Jamie's eyes widened and he started sobbing –
No! Please! No!
– and the next thing I knew Lucas had twisted round with the knife between his teeth and was unbuckling Jamie's trousers. Jamie was screaming and writhing in panic but Lucas had his arms pinned down with his feet and there was nothing he could do.

I was stunned for a moment.

I thought – he's not, is he? Surely he's not …?

Jesus Christ!

I screamed – ‘Lucas! No!
LUCAS!
' – but he didn't take any notice. He had the belt undone now and was taking the knife from his mouth. ‘LUCAS!' I yelled. ‘PUT THE KNIFE DOWN!
PUT IT DOWN!
' This time he seemed to hear me. I saw him pause. He looked at the knife in his hand, then looked up at me.

‘Don't do it, Lucas,' I said, breathing hard. ‘Please – put the knife away.'

He stared at me. There was no anger in his eyes, not a trace of viciousness. He looked as docile as a puppy. As I flicked a glance at the knife in his hand I noticed a dark stain on Jamie's dishevelled trousers. He'd peed himself. I looked into Lucas's eyes.

‘That's enough,' I said gently.

He looked over his shoulder at Jamie. I looked at him too. He was a mess. His nose was red and swollen, his face was covered in blood, and a jagged bit of broken tooth was stuck to his lip. His eyes focused on me and he tried to say something, but all that came out was, ‘N … nuuh …'