4338.206.2 | Gladys Cramer | Bloody Horror
When a horrifying discovery shatters Gladys's world, she must navigate the aftermath of tragedy while unravelling the shocking secrets that lie beneath.
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A small delivery truck sat idly in Luke and Jamie's driveway, and sense of unease began to creep over me. I brought the car to a stop at the edge of the curb, my eyes fixed on the vehicle. "That's odd," I murmured, the words barely escaping my lips as I stared out the front windscreen with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
Beatrix, seemingly unfazed, opened her car door and stepped out. "What's odd?" she inquired, looking back at me for clarification.
Leaning forward in my seat, I tried to make sense of the scene before us. "I'm sure that's not the same truck I brought around yesterday," I said.
"Perhaps someone else is helping him?" Beatrix suggested, trying to offer a logical explanation.
I reached over to the backseat to grab my handbag, my gaze still locked on the truck. Something about it didn't sit right with me. "Perhaps," I replied, not entirely convinced, as I finally opened my door and stepped out of the car.
Beatrix shot me a look of caution as we walked towards the driveway. The front door of the house stood open, yet the atmosphere was unsettlingly quiet. A question nagged at me, Where are Duke and Henri? The absence of the dogs' usual enthusiastic greeting added to the growing sense of foreboding.
My heart sank as another thought struck me, a thought I had been dreading. Does this really mean that Jamie isn't here? The possibility that Jamie might not be in the house, that he might be gone just as Luke had said, filled me with a sense of dread.
I offered Beatrix a noncommittal shrug. "Hey, Luke," I called out, my voice echoing slightly in the open space of the driveway. There was no response, which only added to the growing tension I felt.
I followed several steps behind Beatrix as we approached the truck, its back door hanging open in a way that suggested haste or carelessness. The mystery of the truck was unsettling, and with each step, my apprehension grew.
Suddenly, Beatrix let out a piercing scream from the other side of the truck. "What the fuck, Luke!" she yelled, her voice filled with shock and terror.
My heart leaped into my throat, skipping a beat in sheer panic. Racing to Beatrix's side, my mind was flooded with dreadful possibilities. Is it Jamie? Is he hurt? The thought of finding Jamie in some kind of trouble, or worse, was overwhelming.
As my eyes scanned the interior of the truck, they were immediately drawn to a sight that sent a shockwave of horror through me. "No, no, Luke, no," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. There, on the floor of the truck, lay a young man, motionless and silent in a pool of blood. My mind refused to process the scene, and I found myself instinctively walking in nervous circles, unwilling to look again at the harrowing sight.
Feeling faint, I reached out to place my hands on the nearby brick retaining wall, seeking something solid to ground me in this swirl of chaos. Flashbacks of finding Brody in a similar state assaulted my senses, the images vivid and unrelenting. I gagged, the taste of bile rising in my throat. Why is there always so much blood? The thought echoed in my mind, a haunting refrain.
"You can't do this to me," I muttered to myself, almost in disbelief, as I stumbled away from the truck. I felt a sense of detachment, as if I were watching myself from a distance, unable to control or comprehend my actions.
In a daze, I made my way back to the car, but my legs betrayed me. They began to wobble, giving way under the weight of my shock and distress. Overwhelmed by nausea, my knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the soft grass with a heavy thud. The acidic burn of vomit surged up my throat, and I helplessly expelled it onto the grass in front of me. Sitting back on my knees, I was too dazed to catch the saliva dripping from the corner of my mouth onto my jeans.
Desperate to regain some semblance of control, I inhaled deeply, then exhaled, repeating the breathing exercises I had learned long ago. Slowly, with each deliberate breath, Brody's haunting face began to fade from my vision, giving way to a momentary calm in the storm of emotions raging within me. But the respite was fleeting. The reality of what I had just seen, the implications, and the memories it dredged up, all loomed over me, an ominous cloud that threatened to engulf me once again.
Struggling to regain my composure, I pulled myself into the passenger seat of the car, letting my feet rest heavily on the curb. In a desperate attempt to find some solace, my eyes fell on the bottle of shiraz that lay on the floor of the car. "Shit," I exclaimed, my voice a mix of frustration and despair as the severe trembling of my hands almost caused me to drop the bottle. My fingers, clumsy and uncooperative, fumbled with the cap, twisting it off with more force than necessary. The cap clinked as it fell into the gutter, forgotten in my growing distress.
I raised the bottle to my lips, the familiar, perfumed vapour of the shiraz tantalising my nostrils, offering a brief moment of escape from the horrific reality. A part of me knew that Jamie wouldn't approve of this coping mechanism, but he wasn't here to stop me. He wasn't here to offer his support or his gentle disapproval. The thought was both liberating and heartbreaking.
With a sense of resignation, I took three deep gulps from the bottle, feeling the warm liquid slide down my throat. As I pulled the bottle away, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, trying to erase not just the remnants of the wine but also the chaos of the moment.
Sitting there, in the passenger seat with my feet on the curb, the reality of what I had just witnessed hit me once more. The young man in the truck, the blood, the memories of Brody - it all merged into a suffocating wave of despair. The shiraz, a temporary reprieve, could not wash away the horrors or the questions that plagued my mind. In that moment, the wine was both a friend and a foe, a means to numb the pain but also a reminder of my inability to face the situation soberly.
As the initial calming effect of the alcohol began to settle in, I returned to the scene of the brutal crime. “We need to call the Police," I declared with a newfound resolve. In my mind, it was clear: if Luke was innocent, he had nothing to fear from the authorities.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Luke retorted sharply, his words slicing through the tense air.
I flinched at the harshness of his tone. His reaction, so defensive and abrupt, set off alarms in my mind. He's guilty! The thought screamed inside me, pushing me to return to the bottle of wine for another sip, seeking solace in its numbing embrace.
Beatrix gasped. "There's so much blood," she uttered, stepping back as if the sight itself could harm her.
Of course there's so much fucking blood! I thought bitterly, my gaze fixated on the arterial spray that marred the side of the truck. What a fucking mess!
"We can't, Gladys," Luke interjected, his voice tense.
"Why not?" I asked, my tone cautious yet demanding. I needed a convincing reason to believe him, to trust his judgment. If he couldn't provide one, then the fear of becoming his next victim loomed large in my mind. Jamie, where are you? I silently pleaded, hoping for his presence to make sense of this chaos.
"Well, that'll look great, won't it," Luke snapped back, his sarcasm evident. "I'm covered in blood; your sister now has her fingerprints all over the crime scene, and you're standing there drinking wine out the bottle."
His words stung as I stared at the shiraz in my quivering hand, but they also painted a picture of how incriminating the situation could look. My eyes glanced over at Beatrix who had climbed into the back of the truck with Luke and the body that lay in a pool of blood. We were entangled in a scenario that could easily be misinterpreted, our actions misconstrued. The weight of his argument bore down on me, filling me with doubt and uncertainty. How could we navigate this without implicating ourselves?
"Fuck!" yelled Luke, slamming his fist into the side of the truck.
The loud bang startled me, causing me to jump and disrupting the tenuous hold I had on my emotions. I could feel tears starting to form, stinging at the corners of my eyes.
“What happened to him?" Beatrix turned to Luke with a concerning amount of curiosity. Her eyes then fell on the vomit next to the body. "Is that yours?" she asked.
"It is," Luke responded softly.
"What are you going to do with him?" I asked, my voice slightly muffled as I took another gulp of wine. The truth was, I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer. A part of me longed to escape this horror, to return to a life that now seemed like a mere nightmare in comparison. One dead body is enough, I thought to myself, a desperate wish to avoid any more tragedy.
"I don't know," Luke replied, his voice low and conflicted. "I was thinking of taking him through the Portal."
My head snapped up at his words. Perfect! The idea of making the body disappear forever through the Portal seemed like a solution, a way to erase this nightmare from reality.
"Shit," Luke suddenly exclaimed, his tone laced with doubt.
And just like that, my heart sank. What? Why? You must! The urgency of the situation pressed on me, and I found myself guzzling a few more mouthfuls of wine.
"Don't worry," Beatrix reassured Luke, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Gladys already told me about your Portal."
I exhaled a sigh of relief. So, he is still going to take the body through the Portal? The possibility provided a faint glimmer of hope in the midst of this chaos.
Luke's glare turned towards me, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and betrayal. Beatrix, oblivious to my broken promise to Luke, chuckled softly.
"Sorry," I whispered, a pang of guilt washing over me as I brought the bottle to my lips once more.
"Can I see it?" Beatrix asked, her voice tinged with an excitement that felt out of place.
"I don't know," Luke replied, his voice laced with caution. The weight of the decision seemed to press heavily on him.
"Oh, come on," Beatrix pressed, displaying a boldness that bordered on insensitivity. "You have to get rid of this body anyway, so you may as well,” she insisted.
Luke remained silent, seemingly lost in his own conflicted thoughts. The tension was palpable, and I found myself unable to utter a word, my own thoughts swirling in a chaotic mix of fear, disbelief, and confusion.
"How are the two of you being so calm about all of this?" Luke finally asked, his tone a mix of wonder and disbelief.
"Calm?" I echoed his word, almost scoffing at the notion as I raised the bottle of wine to my lips. This was anything but calm. If this was what calm looked like for me, I shuddered to think how I would appear in a true state of panic.
Beatrix, seemingly unfazed by the severity of the situation, shrugged nonchalantly, allowing a moment of silence to stretch out before finally admitting, "I don't know."
Luke exhaled a heavy sigh. "I need to clean up first," he declared, motioning for Beatrix to follow him away from the truck. There was a sense of resignation in his movements, a reluctant acceptance of the grim task ahead.
"Sure," Beatrix agreed readily, her response casual, almost flippant. And with that, she jumped down from the truck, seemingly unfazed by the macabre scene that had unfolded before us.
"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly as I watched Luke's actions.
"Huh?" Beatrix responded, turning around with a look of confusion before realising I wasn't addressing her.
"I need to move him forward," Luke explained, his voice strained with the effort. "His foot is stopping the door from closing properly." He grunted as he lifted the body from its armpits, a grimace of discomfort crossing his face.
"So, who is he anyway?" I found myself asking, unable to suppress my curiosity. "Did you know him?"
"He's just the delivery guy," Luke whispered, but his tone lacked conviction. It was as if he was trying to convince himself more than us.
"Who?" Beatrix pressed, her voice forceful, demanding a clearer answer.
A single tear rolled down Luke's cheek, betraying the turmoil he was trying to hide. He looked up at Beatrix, his expression one of deep sorrow. "His name is Joel. He's Jamie's son," he said softly, the revelation landing like a blow.
"Shit," Beatrix muttered, echoing the shock that rippled through me.
The wine bottle slipped from my grasp and crashed onto the hard concrete below. "Oh dear," I said, my words barely audible as I stared down at the shattered glass and spilled wine.
"What the... how... when did... " Beatrix stuttered, her words trailing off, unable to form a coherent sentence.
"I had no idea. No idea at all," I repeated, my gaze flicking between Beatrix, the body, and Luke, trying to process the horrifying revelation.
Suddenly, Luke leapt from the back of the truck, his clumsy landing causing him to bump into me.
"Luke! Where are you going?" Beatrix called out after him.
"Don't leave us here with him!" I cried out, panic gripping my voice. The thought of being left alone with Joel's body was overwhelming.
The two of us followed Luke into the house. He walked across the living room, heading for the hallway.
"Hey! Where are Duke and Henri?" I couldn't help but ask, my concern for the dogs surfacing unexpectedly. Needing something normal to focus on, even if it was just pouring myself another glass of wine, I reached for a wine glass from the kitchen cupboard and opened the small cupboard above the rangehood. I knew exactly where Luke and Jamie kept their alcohol; it was a small detail that felt disproportionately comforting in the midst of everything else.
"Oh," Luke responded, his voice trailing off as he turned around to face us. His answer was brief, almost dismissive. "Henri accidentally ran through the Portal earlier this morning. And I accidentally took Duke with me."
Accidentally? The word repeated in my mind. It seemed so out of place, so incongruent with the gravity of the situation. Luke, covered in blood, emerging from the back of a truck, and now this casual mention of 'accidents'. It didn't add up. "Can they get back out?" I asked, the worry in my voice impossible to hide. The thought of Duke and Henri, lost somewhere through the Portal, was deeply distressing. The number of vanishing bodies was becoming alarmingly high, and the need for some semblance of control, of resolution, was growing more desperate by the second.
"Nope," Luke replied, his tone flat. "We tried that already." His brief pause did little to reassure me. "Anyway, I'm going to shower," he announced abruptly and then disappeared up the hallway.
My head drooped under the weight of the day's revelations. First Jamie's inexplicable absence, then the shocking discovery of a dead man in a truck, and now the announcement that Duke and Henri were missing. The absurdity of it all was overwhelming. And Luke, the one person I thought could provide answers, could only produce a dead body!
"Poor Duke and Henri," Beatrix whispered, shaking her head.
The sound of my wine bottle clanging against the kitchen island jolted me back to the present. I set it down more gently this time. "Why are they poor?" I asked, even as I reached into the top cupboard for another wine glass. Somewhere inside, I knew the answer, but I needed to hear it, to confirm the fears that were gnawing at my mind.
"Ah," Beatrix said, her response hesitant. "No particular reason," she finally answered, settling herself on the couch. Her eyes wandered around the room, her gaze distant, as if she were lost in her own thoughts or trying to escape the grim reality we found ourselves in.
A few minutes of silence passed.
"Here," I said, breaking the quiet as I extended a full glass of wine towards Beatrix.
She took the glass from me and held it under her nose, inhaling the aroma of the Shiraz. "Thanks," she murmured softly, a small note of appreciation in her voice.
I sat down beside her, leaving my own fresh glass on the bench. Instead, I took a sip directly from the bottle, the sharp taste of the wine providing little respite from my racing thoughts.
"Gee, you were quick," I said when Luke walked into the living room, wearing a fresh pair of jeans and another t-shirt.
"Do you want to see this Portal or not?" Luke asked, his tone brisk and to the point. In the palm of his hand, he held the small device, the key to the extraordinary phenomenon that had turned my world upside down.
Despite having witnessed the activation of the Portal before, I couldn’t suppress a gasp as Luke pointed the device at the living room wall. A small ball of energy shot out from its end, and the moment it made contact with the wall, it burst into countless ripples of vibrant energy. The colours swirled and danced across the entire surface of the wall, creating a mesmerising spectacle.
"It's so pretty," Beatrix remarked, her voice filled with awe. She finally tore her gaze away from the large, swirling display of colours. The beauty of the Portal stood in stark contrast to the grim reality of what it represented – a gateway to an unknown and potentially dangerous place.
"Take this for me," Beatrix suddenly called out, her voice laced with a hint of mischief. She tossed a cushion in Luke's direction, a seemingly innocuous action that took an unexpected turn.
I gasped as the cushion, instead of landing in Luke's hands, barely grazed his fingers before it vanished into the colourful energy of the Portal. The cushion disappeared as if it had never existed, swallowed by the vibrant vortex on the wall.
"Shit," Beatrix whispered, her eyes wide with awe and disbelief. "That's incredible."
I couldn't help but take another swig of wine.
"I have another idea," Luke announced, breaking the momentary trance. I watched as he gathered Duke and Henri's small beds and box of soft toys, a collection of comfort for the dogs, from between the two black couches.
"Good idea," Beatrix agreed, nodding in approval.
"Oh yeah," I added. Still clutching the wine bottle, I rummaged through my handbag with my free hand. "Can you give this to Jamie for me?" I asked Luke, placing a small envelope in the box of toys.
"What's this?" Luke inquired, his curiosity piqued.
I hesitated, considering whether Luke might read the letter if I disclosed it. Deciding to take the risk, I needed the assurance that Jamie was still out there, still reachable. "It's a letter for Jamie," I revealed, my voice laced with a mixture of hope and vulnerability.
"You wrote him a letter?" Beatrix turned to me, her tone laced with sarcasm.
"Yeah, well, I figured I can't exactly talk to him, can I?" I retorted defensively, my gaze shifting back to Luke, searching for any sign of understanding or reassurance.
"Oh, yeah. I see your point," Beatrix responded, her voice softening as she nodded her head, seemingly coming to terms with the logic behind my decision.
Without another word, Luke stepped into the vibrant mass of dancing colours with the box of toys and the letter. He vanished from sight, leaving Beatrix and me alone on the couch with our wine.
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