ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror(72)

Dom struggled and clawed beneath Andrew’s weight, but it was useless. The electric fear in Dom’s eyes changed to a dull, far-off focus as his cheeks swelled and turned purple in the harsh glare of the car’s headlights.

Andrew was sure Dom was only seconds away from passing on to his next life – to burn in the fires of hell with his brother – but something happened. A knife appeared and embedded itself into Andrew’s face. The blade entered his cheek and protruded into his mouth, pressing against his tongue.

Andrew released his grip on Dom’s throat and seized the handle of the blade. He yanked it quickly, not wanting to prolong the experience of pulling a knife out of his face for a millisecond longer than necessary. Blood immediately filled his mouth, coppery and sweet. Dom hadn’t managed to capitalise on his reprieve yet and was still on his knees, wheezing and spluttering as his windpipe recovered from being constricted to the point of near-asphyxia.

Andrew was in no state to launch another attack of his own either. Feverish shudders wracked his body and threatened to send him spinning into unconsciousness. If that happened he was as good as dead – Dom would slit his throat while he slept. Yet, even with his face torn up and bleeding, Andrew was still the one with the upper hand. He had Dom’s knife now – just like he had possessed Jordan’s. The small rubber handle felt good in his hand.

Andrew didn’t get to his feet – was unable to in fact. Instead he crawled forwards on his hands and knees, attempting to reach Dom before the lad regained his focus.

He wasn’t quick enough.

Dom saw Andrew approaching with the knife and his eyes went wide, glowing white in the darkness beyond the car’s lights. He managed to get to his feet quickly and immediately took off. Andrew was surprised and it took him a couple of beats to stumble to his own feet and give chase.

Dom was young and quick, but he was also winded and half-blind from a gouged eye. Andrew struggled to keep pace but, every few metres, Dom would stumble against a tree or trip over a root and Andrew would close the distance. The deciding factor now was stamina. Andrew’s lungs were already burning and his stomach was paving the way for an onslaught of retching. He wasn’t cut out for so much exertion on a good day, let alone with a stab wound in both his face and ribs.

But he wouldn’t quit. As long as he had control over his legs Andrew would keep running – until he either passed out or caught up with Dom. The youth was just as tired as he was and had slowed into a desperate lollop.

Andrew willed his legs to keep going, dodging between skeletal trees and fallen logs. His thighs pumped like pistons; his breath came out in gasps. Dom was losing steam; legs getting heavier, his strides shortening. The gap between them decreased with every stride.

Getting closer and closer.

Dom was only an arm’s reach away now. Andrew timed his strides and prepared to pounce.

He sprung forward and managed to grab hold of the boy’s sweatshirt. Dom’s legs tangled together and he tripped onto his face, sliding in the dirt. Andrew hopped aside and came to a stop beside him; standing over the boy, ready to use the knife to finish the job. But it was unnecessary. Dom was beaten; out of breath and injured.

Andrew pointed the knife downwards at Dom, making it very clear he was willing to use it. “Where’s Frankie?” His words were slurred, his mouth still filling with fresh blood. “Where?”

“Fuck you man!” Dom spat.

Fighting words indeed, but Andrew could hear the fear in the boy’s voice. “Do you want to die here? Do you want me to gut you like I did your brother?”

“Go to Hell!”

Andrew could tell that Dom was only a sentence away from giving in to sobbing. Perhaps it was time for a modicum of compassion, Andrew considered, despite the fact that none had been shown to him one night previous. “Look,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you, Dom. I’ve already taken what you’ve taken from me. We’re even. I just want, Frankie. So, where is he?”

“He’s at the hospital. Doing your daughter like you did my bro.”

Andrew prayed it was just an idle threat, but there was every chance that Frankie would be intending to finish what he had started by killing Bex. Thinking about it filled Andrew with more terror than he could hold inside of himself. But he couldn’t afford to lose control; not now. He had to remain focused. “You have a mobile phone on you?”

Dom nodded. “Course I do.”

“Then use it,” Andrew growled.