ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror(81)

To Andrew’s surprise, it was indeed Davie that entered the room cautiously. He’d thought Davie had wanted no part of his brother’s insanity, but the fact that he was here now suggested different. When it came right down to it, they were typical brothers – they stuck together till the end.

“Little bro, I thought you’d given up on me.”

Davie shook his head. “I was wrong to say what I said. You’re my brother and I’m sorry.”

Andrew shook his weary head. I had hopes for you, Davie, but it turns out that you’re no better than Frankie. To hell with the both of you.

A whispered voice snapped Andrew away from his thoughts. He turned his head sideways and saw that Dalton was trying to say something to him. She’d lost every hint of colour from her cheeks and now resembled a ghost more than she did a young woman.

She placed a hand on his forearm. “Grab…my belt. The…canister.”

Andrew tried to figure out what she meant. He looked down at her belt and saw a collection of evenly placed pouches. The one on the furthest-most right was open and contained a small aluminium spray can with a bunch of writing on the side.

Dalton nodded at him. “Grab…it.”

Andrew nodded back, looked at Frankie, and saw that he was distracted by the conversation with Davie. He started to creep his hand towards the canister. Inch by inch, his fingers stretched towards it, until…

Got it.

Andrew managed to get his hand around the can and started to pull it away from its pouch. But it was stuck on something and would not move. Andrew quickly realised that there was a popper-button attaching a tongue across the top of the can. With his thumb, Andrew unfastened it and started to pull again. The can slid out easily now and Andrew’s heart beat rapidly as he eyed Frankie. One false move and the psychopath would shoot him. He would have to keep his movements slow, gradual.

Very, very careful.

Inch by inch.

Frankie turned to face Andrew, eyebrows raised.

Andrew thanked God that he managed to slide the canister into the space beneath his armpit one second before anybody noticed. He’d gotten away with it and now had a slither of hope to hold onto.

“What you f*ckin’ looking at?” Frankie asked him. “If your eyes were any wider they would fall on the floor.”

Andrew didn’t reply. What the hell did Frankie expect him to say? Instead he looked down at the mangled wreck of his knee and thought about the small metal cylinder concealed beneath his armpit and whether he would get the chance to use it.

“So what’s your plan?” Davie asked his brother. “You know there’s a bunch of coppers outside?”

Frankie shrugged. “What the hell they gonna do? I already popped one of ‘em. They want to be the ones concerned about me.”

“We should really get out of here.”

Frankie put a hand on Davie’s shoulder. “No way, little bro. This is my moment. The day the whole world learns not to f*ck with Frankie Walker. The fact that my little brother is here to share it all makes things even more perfect.”

Davie looked confused. “Your moment? What are you talking about?”

“Going to whack these bitches, just as soon as everyone comes back in from outside. No point doing it without an audience. Then I’m going to go out in a blaze of glory. Take a few more pigs with me if I can. People will remember my name forever. People will have nightmares about me for years.”

“You’re crazy,” Bex hissed from her bed. Andrew wished she would be quiet, but he assumed at this point it wouldn’t make a whole lot of difference.

Frankie pointed the gun at Bex again but she didn’t flinch. In fact she seemed more composed and defiant than she had been since the whole thing began. “Don’t be a hater,” Frankie told her, “just because you can’t understand my greatness. You just don’t see the big picture like I do.”

Bex cackled at him. It was a cruel expression and Andrew never knew his daughter was capable of such a sound. “You think a spree-killing is the big picture? I thought the point of you being here was to get rid of the witnesses, but now you’re talking about having an audience. You don’t know what you’re doing, do you?”

“Plan changed. No shame in it. I figure that if I can’t get away with shit, I might as well make shit count. Going to go down like a man – a gen-u-ine pig-killing hero. You think anyone will ever forget those kids in America that shot up that school? Or that dude last year that blinded that cop? No, they make films about people like that. People will make films about me one day and the whole world will be sorry it ever got in my way.”