Epilogue
Mercilessly the rain continued to pour, Bailey slowing as he approached the entrance to the parking lot of Franklin Transport, pausing momentarily to take a look up and down the length of Grand Street before hanging a left and navigating from the empty road and into the deserted and neglected area of land hidden behind the dilapidated fencing. He often enjoyed nights like this. Cruising in his car, the cold and rain kept at bay as the patrol car's heaters worked tirelessly to keep him warm and dry, the outside events unable to touch him and giving him a secure cosy feeling. A warmth unparalleled you might say. But not this evening. In fact Bailey could testify that this evening the cold and uneasy feeling was proving incredibly difficult to shake. The butterflies in his stomach refusing to be disappear as he considered, albeit briefly, bailing. Returning the evidence, reporting Valentine, doing whatever he could to end the situation he now found himself in. But then what would he do? Be back at square one? A mountain of debt that he had no legitimate means of clearing? That wasn't an option. Not when he owed money to the wrong people. Not only that, but as things stood right now he had the chance of making all his problems disappear in the blink of an eye. Before Ruth could find out too. Jesus he couldn't afford to let her discover how much he'd lost. If she had so much as an inkling as to how deep this rabbit hole of debt and desperation went she'd be gone in a flash. They'd had this discussion years ago. No more second chances, Ruth's words echoing repeatedly in his head as the tyres of the patrol car slowly worked their way across the uneven parking lot. The pot holes scattered randomly, the car bobbed up and down as Bailey followed the rusted and worn signs to the loading bay and gently eased the vehicle round the back of the building, the huge shutter door awaiting him as he approached the huge shed, the weathered markings printed on the corrugated steel structure surrounding the shutter reading 'Maintenance Bay'. Rolling to a stop, Bailey looked on through wipers whizzing frantically back and forth, no sooner has they cleared the windshield it was covered once again, the heavy pitter-patter of thousands of drops of rain reverberating through the patrol car as Bailey grabbed his flashlight, levered open his door and stepped into the rain. Approaching the shutter door, he found the switch easily enough in the moonlit area, ripping open the small cabinet placed beside the door and jamming his thumb into the button labeled 'UP' the faded lettering showing its age as the door sat motionless. Trying again, the rain beginning to soak him to the bone, Bailey rammed his thumb into the switch once more, as hard as he could. Still nothing. Again, he tried over and over, plunging his thumb into the switch repeatedly, narrowing his eyes and looking up through the rain to the old, rusted motor positioned high above the door, nestled beneath the facia of the building in an effort to keep it from the elements, the power to the motor, and the building as a whole, seemingly non-existent.
"Shit!" He exclaimed, now moving from the controls and making his way slowly across the front of the shutter. Noticing a smaller regular sized door positioned just on the other side of the huge shutter, Bailey reached it quickly and tried the handle, not holding his breath as he gripped it firmly and twisted. To his surprise, the door fell open, swinging eerily ajar as he released the handle and coming to a stop as Bailey stepped inside and into the almost dry interior of Franklin Transport. Lifting the flashlight and aiming it into the rafters of the crumbling building, the beam of light zipped from side to side, carefully examining the top of the shutter door before finally landing on what Bailey was searching for. Across on the far side of the door, the chains hung deadly still, dropping from the top of the door and looping back up, the manual door mechanism positioned high above hopefully in a good state of repair. A quick flick of the flashlight and the maintenance bay fell into darkness once again as Bailey holstered his flashlight, spat into the palms of his hands and grabbed the chains. The cold shot through his hands instantly, icy as Bailey tried to see past it and pull, the gears of the mechanism slowly engaging as all at once the chains gave way. Pulling harder and harder, Bailey's hands worked quickly, the shutter door now beginning to open up as the sound of the conditions outside grew louder, a gust of wind blowing a spray of rain water beneath the door and straight into Bailey's face as he grimaced and turned away. Over and over his hands were a blur, the door climbing faster with every pull as the mechanism worked itself loose. Gears grinding and grating as the opening became wider with every pull. Before he knew it, the gap was more than sufficient to squeeze the patrol car under, the bracket welded crudely to the side of the shutter door frame coming in useful as Bailey slipped the chains around it and carefully let go, expecting the door to come crashing back down, but pleasantly surprised as it stayed right where he wanted it, the door rippling gently, bowing in the middle as the gale bombarded it at will. Making his way back through the rain and pulling open the patrol car door, he slid behind the wheel and took a deep breath. Wipers still labouring frantically, Bailey slipped the car into gear and lifted his foot from the brake, the wheels slowly rolling up the slight incline and beneath the half-open shutter door, the headlights of the patrol car illuminating the dark and vast open space before him as he gently cruised inside. The walls around him visibly crumbling and decaying, Bailey rounded a corner and came across the rusted chassis of an old school bus, the bare carcass sitting alone in the empty bay, the only thing that served as a reminder of the old days, the moonlight glowing brightly through the trio of windows positioned high up on the far wall, full and half moons of glass sitting above the more traditional rectangular windows as the moonlight streaked through the dusty air and landed on the filthy floor. The wall to his left once a beautiful white had now faded remarkably, the paint flaking as years of neglect took their toll, the damp causing the paint and brickwork to flake and corrode, the remnants of old wiring hanging limp in places below the huge, black, 'X' shaped brackets sitting high up on the wall. Spying a solitary door positioned beneath the various windows on the wall now facing him, Bailey allowed the car to roll to a stop, applying the handbrake and killing the engine as the noise immediately died and a silence crept over the old place, the only noise now coming from the rain outside and the occasional dripping from the various leaks that had appeared in the building over the years. Recognising the lone door ahead from his last visit, Bailey quickly concluded it to be the most likely way Valentine would access the abandoned building. Now settling in, sitting and waiting patiently, his eyes remained fixed on the door and the multitude of puddles before it. With no sign of Valentine and time to kill, he pulled a cigarette from the inside pocket of his jacket and lifted it to his mouth, clamping it between his lips as he removed his hat and casually tossed it into the passenger foot well. Reaching into his jacket pocket, withdrawing his lighter, he admired the engraving just as he always did, the words 'To Bailey' prominent upon the silver as he flipped it open and lifted the flame to the tip of the cigarette, a deep breath as he drew back the hit of nicotine and snapped the lighter shut, a huge crash of thunder echoing above, performing in tandem with a vibrant flash of lightning and casting shadows across the empty maintenance bay. Expelling the first lungful of smoke, Bailey's eyes never left the door up ahead, his mind racing as he nervously tapped the lighter upon the dashboard of the patrol car, not once, not twice, but three times in quick succession, his attention now turning to the black evidence bag resting in the passenger seat by his side. He had to admit, he was curious. Who wouldn't be in his situation? Tapping the lighter on the dashboard again, he took another drag from the cigarette and cast a quick glance around the abandoned building. He couldn't help it, he had to have a look.
After all, what was the worst that could happen?
She'd been there twenty minutes, maybe half an hour, by the time Bailey's patrol car steadily drifted past. Tiffany warm and dry behind the wheel of her Pontiac, nicely tucked away down one of the many alleyways lining Grand Street. She had to hand it to Bailey, he didn't disappoint. Checking the clock positioned on the Pontiac's dash, she decided to give him time to find his way in. Let him get settled before quietly making her approach and assessing the situation from there. Ten minutes quickly passed, another text message and a missed call from Damien in the process, and she decided it was time. A deep breath, a moment to compose herself and take stock. Not for what Bailey had coming to him. No, as far as Bailey was concerned he deserved everything he was going to get, and more. No, the more Tiffany focused on it, the more she found it staggering. It was over. Almost, at least. There had been tears, there had been laughter, and there had been blood. Boy, had there been blood. All unavoidable though. Simply small pieces adding up to the bigger picture during her search. Her pursuit. Her quest even. Over ten years it had taken, and what a journey it had been. There had been low points, obviously. But there had been positives to take away from the experience too. But now, after over a decade of searching, of revenge, of countless nights wondering if she would ever make it. Which she had to admit, hadn't always seemed possible. But yet here she was. She'd tried to be careful, not to get carried away, after all Bailey could be another Harry Marsh. There was every possibility she was going to head inside and find Bailey empty handed, save for some tiny, insignificant clue. A name, an address. Hell, there was a chance she wouldn't even get that. But right now she had a good feeling. Something deep within, a voice telling her that this was it. Finally. The moment she had been waiting for. Her instincts were usually reliable. And right now they told her not to worry. That tonight was the night she would finally come face to face with him.
With Chucky.
After giving Bailey a sufficient amount of time, Tiffany pushed open the car door and stepped into the rain-soaked alleyway, extending a small umbrella after closing the car door and beginning to make her way towards Grand Street. The crooked, staggered brickwork facing her, corroded and dilapidated seemed to lean menacingly overhead, the building opposite doing the same and lending a claustrophobic feeling to proceedings as the two buildings twisted skyward and narrowed the gap separating them at their respective apexes high above. Nevertheless, the rain fell. She'd only just done her hair and there was no way she was walking the streets, especially on such a special occasion, resembling a drowned rat, a quick look both ways down the deserted street before crossing through the shadows and squeezing through the gap in the chain link fence, almost catching her stockings on a stray piece of wire as she emerged on the other side, the rain sliding from her short dress, the PVC not the warmest attire, yet offering one benefit it would seem, the water beading before almost immediately dripping from the surface. A quick glance up, the abandoned shell of Franklin Transport sat dark and silent as Tiffany began to walk across the poorly lit parking lot. Carefully dodging the puddles, the enormous potholes of the long neglected surface dotted randomly between the perimeter and the building, Tiffany cursed as she accidentally missed her step, one long heel plunging into the freezing water and sending a chill shooting from her toes, up her leg and throughout the length of her body. Beginning to regret picking her entire outfit at this point, she lifted her foot and gave it a quick shake, a six inch heel previously half submerged showing how deep the puddles did indeed go.
"God damn!" She spat under her breath, the patter of rain on the top of her umbrella loud enough to drown out her random cursing as she approached the building. She couldn't quite put her finger on it straight away but something was different this time. The building itself was largely how she remembered, but something struck her as strange, and this was the same way she had entered and exited on her last visit. Then it clicked. The shutter door sitting half open, the flimsy metal partition blowing softly in the wind as Tiffany stopped and looked on, the wind whipping at her and causing her hair to ripple rapidly as the rain stung her legs. Taking a moment, she slowly stepped towards the opening, through the potholes and the puddles. Heels clicking with each stride the tips of her stilettos struck the tarmac as she reached the door and headed inside, collapsing the umbrella and discarding it by the open shutter door. Spying the dry and dusty interior of the old Transport shed, Tiffany smiled as she allowed her eyes to fall to the floor and examine the fresh tyre marks. The water snaking from the threshold of the shed and turning right, round the corner and into the darkness. Slowly and quietly she advanced, squatting behind a pile of old boxes before dashing across an opening and concealing her body as best she could behind the open pipe work fixed to the wall, the huge room before her bathed in a perpetual glow as the series of windows high on the far wall allowed the moonlight to flood the area with ease, the radiance gleaming from her dress, the shiny PVC outfit and the fishnets doing incredibly little to fend off the cold as she struggled to move either quickly or quietly in the heels she had foolishly selected for this special night. The reunion she had long awaited. Up ahead, amidst the glow of light emanating from outside and streaking towards the ground she could see the rear of the patrol car, the lone figure behind the wheel lighting up a cigarette and impatiently tapping the lighter upon the dash, the dull thudding barely audible as Tiffany sneaked from cover to cover, carefully approaching her final hiding place, a large decrepit bus chassis, rusted and beaten, left to rot in the empty building. Finding nowhere left to go, the floor between her and Bailey's patrol car completely void, Tiffany sneaked a look around the tail of the bus and looked on. She could see Bailey in a lot more detail now. She could see the smoke spiraling around the interior of the car. She could even see the look of fascination etched on Bailey's face as he cast the occasional glance to his right, the evidence no doubt sitting opposite him in the passenger seat of the patrol car as curiosity reached fever pitch and he considered taking a peak. Sensing an opportunity, Tiffany sprung from the rear of the abandoned bus and quickly made her way to the resting patrol car, Bailey visible through the rear windshield and mesh partition as he glanced over around the vicinity and began to reach towards whatever lay by his side. Dropping to a squatting position as she reached the car Tiffany felt her heart in her mouth, connecting with the cars trunk with a thud, a sigh of relief as a burst of static squealed though the air at exactly the same time, Bailey shaken by the noise and dropping his cigarette as Tiffany risked a quick look over the trunk, just in time to see him recover his butt end and discard it through the open driver's window. The garbled transmission coming through Bailey's radio suddenly falling silent with an appropriate click, Tiffany risked another look, Bailey now giving the evidence another look before submitting and finally reaching, uninterrupted, and ripping the tag from the seal. Feeling the moment upon her, her prey distracted and otherwise engaged, she kept low, sneaking as quietly as possible around the rear of the vehicle and slowly rising as she started to make her way to the drivers window, Bailey now ripping the bag open and taking a good, long look inside. Within a heartbeat Tiffany had withdrawn her knife, the trusty nail file design never once letting her down over the past ten years as she felt a rush of euphoria, now or never. Bailey's head now buried in the opening of what appeared to be a large black garbage bag, completely oblivious as Tiffany seized the moment, reaching in and grabbing his hair. Yanking back suddenly, Bailey was taken by complete surprise, unable to defend himself as the knife worked quickly and effortlessly across his throat, the immediate gush of blood unrelenting as Tiffany stepped back to admire her handiwork. Panicking, Bailey lifted both hands and clamped them across his throat, a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood as he thrust a solitary hand towards the steering wheel of the patrol car and plunged it into the centre of the vinyl cover, the horn blaring out and piercing the otherwise silent evening, one last attempt to alert somebody. Anybody. In his last moments, the warm torrent of blood gushing over his hand, right before his vision darkened and his lungs took their last breath, Bailey knew what had happened. Valentine had found out about his double cross. Had she? Or had this always been her plan? Whatever the reasoning, Bailey knew this was it, the end, the horn still breaking the silence in one last act of defiance, the sporadic rumble of thunder and the explosion lightning barely enough to mask the high pitched shriek. If he was going down he wasn't making it any easier for her. All he could hope now was that somebody had heard the horn and would investigate. As for Bailey, all he could think of as his world went dark was his wife, Ruth. She didn't deserve this. She really didn't. Lifting his hand to the driver's door he fumbled for the handle, seeing Tiffany step back in sadistic pleasure, overlooking the struggle before her as he felt his fingers curl around the handle and the mechanism release. Pushing with all his might, Bailey finally found his vision cloud over, his hearing gently fade and a feeling of nausea rise from the depths of his stomach as his life suddenly ended, his body flopping through the now open door of the patrol car, his head instantly stopping inches from the concrete floor of the old workshop as Tiffany heard Bailey's last breath leave his body and the cold air fall silent. Stepping around the front of the car, the sound of her heels upon the concrete breaking the silence, she allowed a smirk as she approached the passenger side door and allowed herself to lean against the frame of the vehicle. Slowly filing a lone nail upon her trusty, and now bloodied, knife she lifted her finger playfully to her mouth and slowly sucked Bailey's blood from her extended digit the cold, sweet taste of death giving her a shiver of excitement as she turned and leaned forward through the open window of the car. A quick scout of the interior revealed nothing too fascinating, the radio now sitting in silence following Bailey's decision to cut the power, a glint of something from the shadows of the passenger seat as Tiffany reached and fished the lighter from beside the evidence bag that now lay before her. Peeling back the lid, the lighter opened up and Tiffany casually gave a quick flick of her thumb, the flint working perfectly and the twisting, naked flame immediately appearing as she gave a wicked smile of fascination and admired the craftsmanship, the flame dancing momentarily before her eyes.
"Cool!" She joyfully said to herself, another flick of the wrist and the lighter slamming closed as she now found her attention drawn to the small black bag beneath her nose. The bag had obviously been opened, the tag torn straight from the seal as Bailey had vigorously allowed his curiosity to get the better of him. Reaching in and grabbing the bag, Tiffany stood and stepped backwards. Her heart pounding so hard in her chest, she swore she could physically see her chest expand and contract with every beat, her pulse increasing as she heard the constant double thud of her own pulse in her ears. Shaking tentatively, hands gripping either side of the black plastic evidence bag, she pulled slowly as she opened the bag and peeked gingerly inside. The plethora of colours awaiting her were dull and faded. The once bright reds, whites and greens of the overalls shredded and torn as Tiffany dropped to her knees and hurriedly cast a hand into the unknown, the weight and density collected around the bottom as Tiffany finally felt her fingertips brush over something substantial. The cold, tacky, rubbery material sending a streak of euphoria rushing over her body as she took a deep, exhilarating breath and slowly pulled the mysterious material from within, standing as she did so and bringing the object level with her own face. The remains of the Good Guy's face were sliced clean, the skin rubbery to the touch and yet strangely human to the eye, the blood still sticky as Tiffany ran her eyes over every inch of the shredded face and drank in the view. Ten years. All the trials and tribulations. Every obstacle. Every second. It had all led to this moment. The journey finally over as one long burst of lightning erupted through the windows high up in the walls of the old building, the embers of rebellion suddenly catching a fresh breeze and igniting in the pit of her stomach as a fire erupted within and Tiffany, born again, allowed the words to slowly seep from her lips.
"Well hello… Dolly!"
THE END