Dead by Dawn—A Short Story of Terror and Bloodshed Read online

  Dead by Dawn—A short story by Lorraine Taylor

  A man's choice in life should be his own. The decisions he makes and the mistakes he learns from all mould a man into who he is. If he chooses a darker path in life, one lined with trees of hate and rage, then he takes responsibility for where that path leads him. If he chooses to indulge in the urge to hurt people around him for any real or imagined offences they've caused, then he shall continue with their blood on his hands. Though his conscience may arrive after the blood of others has been spilled, he knows this was his action and his choice alone with no-one besides himself to blame. When his dreams are haunted by screams of fear and tinged red with the blood of his victims, he'll know it's something he deserves to live with.

  Indeed, an evil man would enjoy these dreams.

  Lee Riley is not an evil man, and he didn't choose to partake in the Massacre at Horn Village; his choice was taken away by a madman with a gun.

  Lee believed witnessing the carnage and horror of that day would far outweigh any further trauma that may affect his young life.

  He was wrong.

  Wednesday, 26th November.

  2.07PM.

  Lee came awake and groaned, the persistent knocking on his front door nudging sleep further and further away with each bang and thud. He raised his head groggily and squinted at his bedside clock. The time beamed at him, bright in the darkened room. He groaned and buried his head in his pillow when he realised he'd only been asleep for an hour and a half.

  After a 13 hour night shift, a mere 90 minutes of sleep just wasn't going to cut it.

  He turned on his side and groaned at the comfortable lazy feeling that came over him. It was bitterly cold and he planned on staying in bed all day. He wasn't working tonight so that meant a chilled night in with a takeaway, computer games, and horror movies. His plans did not include answering the door any time soon. Whomever seemed so keen to speak to him would just have to come back later. He grabbed his duvet and snuggled into the pillows, sighing with added relief when the knocking ceased. About three seconds of blissful silence followed, just enough time for Lee to think the person had gone away, when the sudden loud bang made him gasp. Sitting up in bed, he glanced towards his bedroom door.

  Whoever had been knocking on his door had not gone away. No longer simply knocking, it sounded like his front door was being punched and kicked.

  Lee groaned in anger. This had better be important. He clutched the duvet and wrapped it around himself, glancing down at his wrinkled work uniform before he did. Exhausted after his night shift, he'd gone straight to bed without getting undressed. The loud knocking continued and Lee became alarmed.

  Had there been an accident?

  He rushed along the hallway to his front door, squinting at the frosted glass. No use. All he could make out was a large dark figure.

  Concerned and afraid, he hesitated by the front door, wondering if the person standing on the other side had seen him. Time seemed to stand still for a moment and he held his breath. If he hadn't been seen, perhaps he could look through the peep-hole and decide then whether to open his door or not.

  Lee leaned forward and closed one eye, ready to peer through the peep-hole ―when he staggered backwards, crying out in surprise. The person on the other side kicked the door again and knocked at the same time.

  "Open the door, Lee."

  Lee froze. He knew that voice. He wasn't being asked to open his door, he was being told. He reached forward, turned the bolt and tugged at the security chain. Swallowing profusely, he pulled his front door open―then gaped in stunned horror.

  The first thing he saw was the rifle.

  Ed Bateman walked into Lee's house and smiled, his eyes wide and his hair tousled. "Today's the day, Lee. It's arrived."

  Today's the day.

  The words slammed through Lee, stinging him like a sudden sharp slap around his face.

  Dear Jesus. He doesn't mean...

  Then Lee saw the blood.

  The green T-shirt Ed wore was speckled with a fine mist of blood. Here and there, larger spots were splattered along with smears on his hands and bare arms. The green camouflage trousers Ed wore also had bloodstains on them.

  "You've...You've shot someone?" Lee asked, his mind tripping over itself.

  Of course he's shot someone. Look at all the blood.

  "Two people are lying on their kitchen floor with enough holes in them to grate cheese." Ed laughed, then frowned. "I thought it might be satisfying, you know, it being my first time and all. But it's just made me want to kill more."

  Maybe he's shot an animal and he's trying to freak me out.

  The look in Ed's eyes assured Lee that what he was saying was the awful truth : he'd shot and killed two people.

  "Maybe I've been daydreaming about it for so long that it's killed some of the buzz?" Ed shrugged thoughtfully. "Anyway, you'd better get your shoes on. Someone must have seen me banging on your door with my rifle. We've gotta get going before the police swarm the place."

  "Going? Going where?"

  Ed's eyes darkened and Lee shrank back. "To teach this town a lesson, Lee. To teach them all a lesson they won't ever forget."

  Lee hunched over and the vomit burst from his throat. He coughed and gagged, hot tears streaming from his eyes as his throat burned. All the times Ed had spoken of this, all the times Lee had dismissed Ed's words as mere ramblings. Now, two people lay dead and Ed spoke of killing more, with Lee by his side. How was he going to get out of this? Would Ed kill him too, when he was done?

  "We don't have time for this, Lee," Ed said coldly. "You knew this day was coming. Today, they will all regret their silence. I thought you'd be as happy to see the town punished as I am, they betrayed you too."

  "This isn't right," Lee gasped. "You can't do this. All these people―"

  "I've been thinking : all these people need to learn their lesson, and killing them isn't really going to achieve that. I can't stand the thought of them dying feeling like a victim. I'm not going to shoot to kill, Lee. I'll shoot to wound. That way, they can live the rest of their lives in fear. Imagine, they won't be able to leave their houses without being reminded of the day that they were shot. Their dreams will be haunted by the memories every single night. Then, when they learn the reason why they were shot, when they learn they could have prevented their own pain with honesty, perhaps it'll teach them to lead better lives. In the long run, it will benefit them. The ones who survive, at least."

  "You're crazy. This isn't right―"

  Lee's words were cut off by the rifle's muzzle, a mere two inches from his face. "You're either with me, Lee, or you're against me. What's it gonna be?"

  Kill or be killed.

  Lee hated the words as they resounded in his mind. It was his life or the life of others. If he refused to accompany Ed, his body would be found laying here in his hallway. His name would be on the list of victims of the massacre to come. If he did accompany Ed, his life would be forever tormented by the memories of today.

  He hated himself, but he wanted to live. Maybe he could prevent some deaths if he went along.

  Sure. If that'll help you sleep at night.

  "What's it gonna be, Lee?" Ed's eyes bore into his and Lee shuddered. He felt like Ed could see his soul.

  "I'm with you," Lee said breathlessly. Then said a short prayer in his mind, begging for forgiveness.

  Ed grinned humourlessly. "Why don't I feel like you're totally into this? Why do I feel like fear is causing you to say what I want to hear, instead of a true desire to see this town punished?"

  "I agree with you, Ed. I just t
hink things need thinking through properly. You could end up in prison for the rest of your life. Is that what you want?"

  "I'll be a legend. People will shudder at the sound of my name. People will tell stories about me, about my past and their encounters with me. Everyone I've ever crossed paths with will grab their 15 minutes of fame as they clutch their hanky and weep in front of the cameras that'll flock here as soon as the story breaks. For years people will remember where they were at that moment, the moment the gunman walked their streets, firing indiscriminately at everyone he saw. I can live the rest of my life in prison happy knowing that they can lock me up, but they can't ever get away from me. The people of this town will remain terrorised by me long after today. I'll stalk them the rest of their life in their dreams."

  A dizzying haze coloured Lee's eyes and he swayed on the spot. This was becoming more and more real with every passing second. The cold feeling that'd swamped him earlier did so again, this time making him feel as if his entire body had gone completely numb. He desperately wished that he were dreaming this, sweating and crying as he tossed and turned in a disturbing sleep. He'd wake to find himself panting and shaking, then he'd breathe a huge sigh of relief when he realised it was all just a bad dream. Then, his life would continue and he'd forget about this terrible nightmare.

  "Lee!"

  Ed's enraged shout startled Lee from his thoughts and he cried out. "Snap out of it! Last chance." Ed's grip on the rifle tightened. "Are you with me, or against me?"

  "I'm with you. I'm coming."

  Please God. Please anyone. Please forgive me. There's nothing that I can do to stop this.

  Ed grinned and lowered the rifle. "Then let's go make history. Some people in this town will be dead by dawn."

  ***

  Lee followed Ed outside and shivered. He felt as if he were floating. The bitterly cold wind nipped his bare arms and stung his skin through his creased T-shirt and work trousers, yet he hardly noticed. Glancing around, he hoped to see someone, anyone, standing and watching. Someone who had seen Ed as he pounded on Lee's door, splattered with blood and carrying a rifle. Someone who was keeping an eye on the situation as they held their phone to their ear, the 999 operator on the other end as they dispatched police to the scene. If they scrambled quickly enough, they may be able to prevent further deaths.

  No-one paid any attention to Lee and Ed as they walked down Lee's garden path. He glanced sideways at Ed. The man's face was drawn, his eyes like that of a shark : dark, black, empty. He walked with determination, his hands clutching the rifle tightly. Lee's hope that whatever rage had gripped Ed so fiercely would cease and begin to fade.

  This man was out to shoot people today. And there was nothing that anyone could do to stop it.

  Lee thought of Ed's words : shoot to wound.

  Perhaps that wouldn't be so bad? Perhaps that may be easier to live with? Ed would go down in history, as he wanted, but people wouldn't have to die to make this happen. If Ed simply went around shooting people, all of whom lived, that would make the memories of today bearable. But Ed's words replayed in Lee's mind over and over again : Dead by dawn. Whether Lee was prepared or not, chances are he was about to witness a massacre.

  Ed found his first victim right next door.

  Mrs. Berry was on her knees, weeding her front garden. She wore overalls and large garden gloves, probably her husband's. Intent on yanking what looked to be a stubborn weed from the ground, she didn't notice the two men as they walked closer.

  Lee felt the bile rise in his throat. He felt the shudders as they ran through him fiercely. He felt the scream building in his chest. He didn't care for Mrs. Berry; not many people did. She was a nosy busy-body, the town gossip. Anything that happened, any juicy gossip that happened to be going around, you could bet Mrs. Berry knew all about it. If she spotted kids off school, she would report them. If someone played their music too loud, she would report them. If she happened to notice a wife letting a man into her home when her husband was at work, she would contact the husband and let him know. No. There weren't many people around who cared for Mrs. Berry.

  That did not mean that Lee wanted her shot.

  Ed raised his rifle and pointed it at Mrs. Berry. Obviously very focused on the task at hand, she still hadn't noticed the two men who stood watching her.

  "Oh Mrs. Berry," Ed called.

  Mrs. Berry lifted her head and glared at Ed, annoyed by the interference. Time slowed down and Lee watched the range of emotions flicker across Mrs. Berry's face. Annoyance turned to surprise, then wonder. She seemed to understand that a man stood pointing a rifle at her, but apparently she didn't grasp the severity of the situation. The look of wonder turned back into annoyance.

  "What do you think you're doing, young man?" She scolded. "Walking around dressed like rambo and carrying a gun. What on earth do you think you're playing at?"

  Lee reeled at the scolding tone of her voice and the look of contempt on her face. Did this woman really believe nothing bad would ever happen to her? Even now, face to face with a gun, she still refused to back down and be quiet. Ed's body stiffened as Mrs. Berry frowned.

  "Shoot to wound, Ed. Remember? Shoot to wound."

  Lee whispered the words, his eyes never leaving Mrs. Berry. Though he tried to sound like he was reminding Ed, he was in fact pleading.

  He had an awful feeling Ed had forgotten his plan to shoot to wound, not kill.

  "She doesn't deserve to live. Dead by dawn."

  Then Ed fired the gun.

  Mrs. Berry's eye imploded. Lee cried out, covering his ears as he gaped at the horrific sight.

  A look of absolute shock twisted Mrs. Berry's gory features. Her right eye was a pulpy red mess. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish yanked from the water. She stared straight ahead, not at Ed or Lee, but at something beyond them. It can only have been a few seconds, but Lee felt he'd been standing at his spot for hours, watching this woman die. Mrs. Berry's remaining eye glazed over and she toppled backwards. Lee gasped as she started to convulse and shudder, her legs kicking sideways as her arms flopped by her side.

  "What a blast," Ed muttered. "Fuckin' awesome."

  Then he and Lee both gasped as the Berrys' front door opened and her husband stepped out.

  A small, wiry, rake-thin man, he was the opposite of his wife. Very quiet and non-threatening, there were people who admitted feeling sorry for this man and his choice of wife. Mr. Berry gaped at the two men before glancing over at his wife's body. A combination of shock and heartbreak contorted his features. He looked once more at Ed, then at the gun that was now pointed at him. His posture relaxed and his shoulders slumped. It appeared the man was ready to take the bullet. The sound of the gun blasted and Lee jumped, crying out again. His cries were drowned out by Mr. Berry, who suddenly screamed and clutched his right leg before tumbling backwards into his house.

  “Shoot to wound. Right?” Ed glanced at Lee and grinned.

  ***

  The next few minutes went by in a blur, yet time seemed to drag on into an endless void of fear and horror. In that time, Ed shot a further 12 people. Though he wasn't consciously counting, the numbers added up in Lee's mind without his concentrating on the matter.

  The man who came out of his house wearing a football top and tracksuit trousers ― shot.

  The woman who was getting out of her car in her own driveway ― shot

  The elderly gentleman with his back to the road as he washed his front windows ― shot.

  Ed aimed mostly for the legs of his victims and hadn't outright killed anyone since Mrs. Berry. Lee was thankful that there were no children around. It must have been term-time as he knew quite a few young families lived on this street.

  Ed had shot at people driving by in cars, at people he spotted in their own homes through the windows. Perhaps the worst of all was the young couple who were getting into a car parked in front of a house. The young man, no older than twenty, had spotted Ed walking towards him. Without hesitati
ng to ponder the situation, the man had thrown his arm around the young woman beside him and shielded her body with his own as they ran back towards the house. Ed became still as he tracked the moving targets with his rifle. He waited until the young couple were close to their front door before shooting.

  The young man had cried out as the side of his thigh exploded with blood. He fell to the ground and the woman crouched beside him, screaming and tugging on his arm. Lee heard the man telling her to run as he pushed at her face. She didn't listen to him and continued to tug on his arm. Ed held the rifle steady as he watched the girl. Lee held his breath and wished with all his might that Ed would leave the girl be. He almost sobbed with relief when Ed lowered his rifle and grinned at him. “Just listen to the bitch, going on like a madwoman. I don't need to shoot her now, I think just seeing him shot has done her in.”

  Other people were shot after that, but Lee's mind had shut down. Though still aware of what was happening around him, he felt as though he was observing the horror from afar, some place that was safe and far away. He'd once had a bad bought of insomnia and had remained awake for almost 50 hours straight. In that time, he'd experienced times of memory lapses, what he called 'spacey moments'. This was a similar feeling, though this time it wasn't exhaustion that forced his mind to close down ; it was mind-numbing fear.

  After a number of people had been shot, Lee found himself wondering what the sound of a bullet hitting a person reminded him of. On some level, he understood the macabre nature of his musings, but he couldn't stop the pondering. It was a sound he'd heard before. Well, perhaps not heard as such, but a sound that was vaguely familiar and tugged at his memories. Was he losing his mind? Lee thought so. He still couldn't get the sound out of his mind.

  Then, he realised what it was.

  The sound of a bullet pounding into flesh was like the sound of pounding a chicken breast flat before you grilled it. The dull, yet squishy thud. Of course, the chicken breast didn't scream in fear and agony as people who'd been shot did.