Prologue
The rain came down hard soaking Jessie to the bone the minute he left the Fox and Hound public house. He scanned the deserted streets for a taxi but he knew that at half one in the morning he was more likely to see a milk float than anything else.
As the rain dripped down his face and realising he couldn’t get any wetter he decided to walk home. He had two options.
He could go the long way round which would take him around half hour or he could cut his journey in half, but this would mean cutting across the barley fields and everyone in the village knew this was not the best of ideas this time of the night. The longer he stood and thought about it the more his fitted t was sticking to his skin and the idea of the shortcut became more and more appealing.
He jumped the low picket fence that separated the country road from the barley fields and caught his dark green combat trousers on the barb wire that secretly trailed the top. Jessie felt a hot pain in the top of his leg. Swearing, he ran his hand towards the pain and felt a warm liquid on his finger tips, he realised his leg was bleeding, but more importantly his trousers were ripped. Realising they cost him eighty pound pissed him off, realising that his girlfriend would now be able to tell him ‘I told you so’ really pissed him off. She had told him not to wear his best clothes to work, as usual she was right.
The rain was relentless and so Jessie ran. All around him was darkness, only in front of him could he see the faint lights of his street.
About a mile he thought to himself. One more mile and he would be home. He could take off his wet clothes, have a long hot shower and get into a warm bed where hopefully his girlfriend would still be awake. The thought of sex cheered him up slightly and he found himself running faster now, his erection pressing against his eighty pound pants.
The rain was beginning to hurt his face by now it seemed to be coming down harder and colder and he found it increasingly hard to run as the soil below his feet turned to mud. As a stitch took hold of his left side Jessie bent over in pain trying to catch his breath. That was the first time he heard it.
He stood to attention, forgetting the pain in his side and looked out around him. Did he imagine it? He listened hard waiting for it again. When it didn’t come he decided to carry on.
Only about half a mile. The street lights were becoming brighter now in front of him. Behind him just a dark expanse.
When he heard it for a second time he stood still once more. A deep growl rumbled across the field towards him. Then he heard it a third time, this time closer, and he knew he wasn’t imaging it. He broke into a sprint, now ever more anxious to get home and take that shower. He had now forgotten about the rain and the mud all he cared about was getting out of this bloody field.
What the hell could be making that noise?
The pain from his leg was getting worse as anxiety and tiredness washed over his body faster than the rain was. He heard it again. The noise was blood curdling and now Jessie was scared. More scared than he had been ever before in his twenty one years. As it drew closer the growling turned to a howl, as if a hunter had found it prey and was now closing in…for the kill.
In the panic Jessie lost his footing and fell to the ground in a squelch.
His face sank into an inch of mud and as he tried to scramble to his feet his sodden clothes seemed to weigh him down. He was half up when he lost his footing again and slipped this time onto his back. He lay there dazed for a matter of seconds but it was long enough for him to hear something approaching him, low to the ground like a cat stalking a mouse. Jessie tried to get up but a mixture of sheer panic and mud stopped him getting a footing. Realising he wouldn’t be able to get up he tried to back away on his arms, kicking with his feet. He had moved an inch before he saw two bright red eyes staring at him through the barley. He wanted to scream but fear prevented it. All he could do was look in horror at those evil eyes. That’s all he saw. No body. No head. Just eyes looking at him. Menacing. Never blinking. Jessie felt a sudden jolt to his chest and as he fell back into the mud he realised the creature had pounced onto him. Before he could try to move he felt a pain in his neck that he had never felt before. He couldn’t see anything just a feeling of intense pain run the length of his body. By the time he realised he had been bitten the creature had moved to the lower part of his body. He moved his hand to his neck and realised a huge chunk was missing and blood was gushing from the wood at an unnatural level. All he felt from that moment was pain to his side and stomach and it was then that he realised the creature was eating him, while he was still alive.
Jessie couldn’t scream, he couldn’t move. All he could do was lie there while it ate his insides, hoping that sooner rather than later he would pass out from lack of blood and he would no longer feel this pain.
His final thoughts were of his girlfriend lying in bed wondering where he was so late, that was before the creature jumped back onto his chest and with one bite took the side of has face off. It hurt for a split second. Then nothing.
Chapter One
Mark Scott awoke at seven thirty as he did every morning to the rough licking on his cheek, vigorous with heavy anticipation, and every morning he hoped it would be the love of his life, the man of his dreams and like every morning he realised that it was, in a fashion. Mark’s twelve month old spaniel, Harry, was telling him it was time to get up and time to go for walkies. Mark laughed as he woke from his slumber and pulled Harry closer to him, kissing his head and realising how much he loved the damn dog. Harry jumped off the bed and ran to the door.
‘Just a minute, just a minute’ Mark laughed as he got out from under his duvet, ‘I need to get dressed you know’. Harry seemed to yap a reply that Mark took as ‘ok but hurry the fuck up’.
Mark wondered to his en-suite bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror.
A handsome chiselled face looked back at him, piercing blue eyes evident through the mop of floppy brown hair that hung across his brow.
He washed and dressed as he would normally, made his way downstairs and narrowly avoided falling down the final three as Harry ran under him in excitement.
They made their way out of the house and down the steep hill, the post office on the corner just about in view.
Mark had lived in Congleton for around six years, now at twenty eight he appreciated the peace and quiet the sleepy little village offered him and he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. The hustle and bustle of London living seemed a lifetime ago. Mark and Harry occupied a small cottage at the brow of Vicarage Hill. With two bedrooms, a galley kitchen and a modest living room some would call it quaint, but Mark loved its original features, from the quarry tiled floor to the wooden beams and from the servant’s bell in the kitchen to the coal house in the back garden. From the master bedroom Mark could see nothing but miles of barley fields and every day the view took his breath away.
Having finished what he had to do at the post office both dog and owner made their way along the high street that had all that the residents needed, a butcher, a baker, a cake shop and a funeral parlour. Harry led the way as he did so proudly everyday out across the park where there were already children playing happily on the climbing frame.
An hour later Mark was growing tired so he rounded Harry up from chasing ducks and they made their way back home. As the sight of the cottage came into view Mark could almost taste the bacon sandwich he was planning to have when they got in and Harry could obviously taste his Pedigree chum because he was frantically pulling on his lead desperate to run ahead. It was only when Harry broke free of his lead and went running off into the barley fields that Mark realised breakfast was the last thing on Harry’s mind today.
However much Mark loved looking out across the fields, he detested walking into them. Harry had done this once before and by the time Mark had caught him and got him home he was plastered in mud and dust from the barley. He had ripped his trousers and t shirt on the barb wire and his Prada loafers were ruined.
Luckily from that day Mark only wore his tat about clothes for walks.
‘Harry, come back here you little shit’, Mark called out, knowing all to well that Harry would stop only when he was tired and not for anything else.
Mark trudged through the mud that the rain had left behind the night before and cursed everything that came to mind. Mark had little patience.
Eventually he could hear Harry a little way ahead but instead of being relieved he was anxious as Harry was whimpering as he had done before, the time he had found a dead fox.
The sight of what Mark saw when he eventually caught up with Harry would stay with him for the rest of his life. At first it knocked him to the floor then a wave of nausier crept up from his stomach into his throat upon which Mark gagged, feeling bile in his mouth. What was left of a body was lay out in front of him. Most of the corpse was missing all that remained was part of the head attached to the torso that was now hollow, all the insides removed. A little further into the field Mark could make out a leg and half an arm.
Once the initial panic and nausier faded Mark decided he needed to call the police. Reaching for his mobile from the back pocket of his jeans he dialled 999 and waited.
Harry was lying next to the body whimpering so Mark went over to console him.
‘What could have done this?’ he said out loud, more to himself than the dog.
Whatever it was it had been unrelenting, he could only imagine the pain this person could have gone through. Mark shuddered at the thought.
He looked around the body as close as he could without vomiting. He didn’t recognise the person, he couldn’t half the face was missing. Dried blood lay splattered across the flattened barley and Mark wretched again.
As he heard the sound of the police sirens coming up the hill towards him a wave of relief washed over his body as he rose to greet the officers.
Three cars pulled up, two marked one unmarked. A short stubby man in his fifties got out first from the unmarked Escort. Although short Mark sensed the man had a superiority and leadership quality about him.
‘I’m Chief Inspector Parker’ he snapped holding out his hand, ‘You must be Mr Scott’ he concluded, more a statement than a question.
Behind him three officers in uniform approached, cocky at first like most police men, but as they approached and the sight and smell of the body hit them they soon recoiled.
‘Well that’s a sorry fucking state’ Parker stated mater of factly.
‘You best be off home Mr Scott, we can take it from here, leave your address with officer Andrews over there and someone will come and take a statement in a few hours’.
Mark was tired and in no mood to argue so he left his details and he and Harry made their way home.
He spent the rest of the afternoon looking out his living room window. The police had cornered off the area not letting anyone through, eventually the body was carried away by the coroners van and the field became silent as if nothing had ever happened.
The day passed by and no police men came to the house for that statement and by seven o clock Mark resided himself to the fact that no-one was coming so he made himself some tea and sat down to watch the evening news.
‘The small town of Congleton, West Yorkshire, was rocked today with the discovery of a body in the fields close to Vicarage Hill. The body was that of twenty-one year old Jessie Pritchard who was thought to have been walking home from the Fox and Hound public house where he was believed to have worked…’
Mark suddenly felt sick again, he didn’t know Jessie personally but he had served him the odd pint of beer before now.
‘…the police report states that the body was found at nine thirty this morning by a local officer who was patrolling…’
‘WHAT’ Mark jumped from his seat closer to the television.
‘…Jessie had been stabbed repeatedly several times in the stomach…’
‘What the fuck...the lying bastard…’
‘…Police have arrested a family member who is believed to have been arguing with Jessie quite violently a short time before the incident.’
Mark switched the television off in anger and sheer bewilderment.
Something wasn’t right here.
TO BE CONTINUED...
