Blood RED. Paul Kane

      Rachael’s hand went for the phone in her pocket, and she saw the new recruit bring something out from beneath the folds of his padded jacket—something that glinted in the half-light of the alley. The one wearing the cap clutched her wrist to stop her from getting to the phone.

      “What’s in the bag?” asked P, speaking for the first time.

      “Dunno, let’s have a look.” Cap went to take it from her. She pulled it away, but he grabbed it and tossed it back to his hooded friend.

      P opened it up. “Looks like medication and stuff.”

      “So she is a nurse,” said Padded Jacket.

      “Come on guys,” said Rachael finally, which shocked them a bit. Try as she might, though, she couldn’t keep the warble out of her voice. “They’re for an old lady who lives around here. I wouldn’t be out at night if she didn’t really need them.” She didn’t know how much good reasoning with them would do, but Rachael was running out of options.

      “She sick, then?” asked the hooded member of the gang.

      “Course she is knobhead, why else would she need it?” Padded Jacket laughed at his own words and Cap joined in.

      “Hey, if there’s some good stuff in there,” said Padded Jacket, snatching the bag to get a better look, “might be able to shift it.”

      Shift it? Rachael couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Were they really talking about taking an old woman’s medication and selling it? Of course they were—what else would she expect from them? She stopped trembling, and more than anything else, now Rachael felt angry.

      “Give me the bag back,” she told the hooded boy. He looked from her to the lad wearing the cap, who shook his head.

      “Make us,” he said, still holding her wrist.

      Rachael wrenched her hand free and pushed him backwards so that he collided with P. Then she kicked at Padded Jacket, catching him on the shins. She made to take back the bag, but then saw what the glinting object in the youth’s hand was as he brought the knife up and was about to lunge at her.

      Rachael had seconds to decide what to do. If it had been one of her mental lists it would have read: 1) tackle the lad with the knife and get the bag or 2) run—get to Tilly’s place as fast as you can, calling the police along the way. Tilly needed those painkillers, but she wouldn’t get them if Rachael was in the hospital with a knife wound. Or worse ... Perhaps her mum was right after all to worry about her lying somewhere in a pool of blood?

      No.

      She decided that retreat was the better part of valour. Rachael sprinted up the alley with the youths coming after her, screaming for revenge.

      Rachael ran. She ran as fast as she could away from the gang, pulling out her mobile and lighting up the display. There were no bars at the top for reception.

      Crap, she thought. The one time I do bring it out and need it, and what happens ...

      Now she really didn’t have a choice. Rachael would have to head in the direction of Handley Crescent.

      In the direction of Tilly’s flat and safety.

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      Tilly almost didn’t answer the buzzer when it went.

      It was dark outside. Nobody she knew would be calling to see her this late in the day; not that they ever did when it was light, either. Which meant that it had to be someone trying to get into her complex, into her flat—for whatever reason—and she was in no hurry to find out who. But it just kept buzzing. “You’re persistent,” she said to herself (Tilly had always talked to herself, even before growing old—making the joke that if you wanted decent conversation, there was really no other choice). Finally, she answered it to stop the noise.

      “Whoever this is, I—”

      “Tilly, oh thank God!”

      She recognised the voice immediately. It was Rachael. Before she could even ask what was happening, the girl was explaining—her words fast and furious on the intercom. “You have to let me in. I was bringing you your medication because I forgot to give it you, but now I’m being chased—please Tilly, let me in. I need to call the police.”

      She didn’t need to hear any more. Tilly buzzed her in and opened her flat door when she heard the knock. Rachael practically fell inside, shaking like a naked woman in an ice bath.

      “Oh my word ... Whatever’s happened, young Rachael?” She placed an arm around her shoulders.

      “It was terrible, Tilly. I thought ... I honestly thought ...” Rachael was close to crying now.

      “There, there.” Tilly stroked Rachael’s shoulder with her hand. “You come sit down, and then you can tell me everything.”

      “Phone,” said Rachael. “I need to call the police.”

      As they were making their way through to the living room, the buzzer went again. Rachael looked at Tilly, her face frozen with fear. “Don’t answer it.”

      Tilly shook her head. She had no intentions of doing so.

      She got Rachael settled down on the sofa and handed her the phone, but the buzzer kept ringing. It was just as persistent, if not more so, than Rachael had been only moments beforehand.

      Rachael lifted the receiver.

      “Who are they?” asked Tilly, hands clasped and looking nervously at the buzzer on the wall.

      “I don’t know.”

      “What did they do, take the medication from you? They’re such a menace, those drug people.”

      Rachael looked up at her through red eyes and shook her head. “No, I dropped your medication while I was running. I’m sorry, Tilly.”

      The old woman waved a hand. “The important thing is that you’re all right, and that you’re ringing for the police.” But Rachael wasn’t ringing for the police at all. In fact she’d put the receiver back on its cradle.

      “Rachael?” Tilly’s brow creased more than usual.

      “I am sorry,” said Rachael. “Very sorry.” Then she smiled, but the smile looked strange on her innocent face. It didn’t sit right at all. Rachael got up and pulled the phone out of the wall by the lead.

      “Rachael, whatever—?”

      “You’re a necessary part of what’s to come,” said Rachael. “Of the ... production.”

      “I don’t understand.” Tilly instinctively backed away.

      “You’re not meant to.” Rachael snarled and leapt across the room at Tilly. As old as she was, the woman made a concerted effort to dodge the girl, twisting even though it sent waves of agony through her aching body. She backed away again, as fast as she could, out of the room.

      Rachael landed by the side of the armchair, and grinned. There were so many teeth in that mouth, and when Tilly looked closer, she could see that all of them were razor sharp.

      Her hand reached for the buzzer and a look of surprise spread across Rachael’s face. She sprang again, but not before Tilly had touched the speaker button.

      “Tilly? Tilly are you there? Let me in!”

      The old woman stood rooted to the spot as the person she’d believed to be Rachael put a hand on her shoulder and spun her around.

      “Tilly—Tilly, let me in!” said the tinny voice through the grille. “It’s Rachael.”

      Tilly’s eyes were wide. “Rach—” she managed before a hand was around her throat. It squeezed tightly. With its other hand, it flicked off the speaker. The Rachael in front of her leaned in and Tilly could smell its rank breath now, hot and fetid. However could she have mistaken this ... this monstrosity