Love, Lies & Lizard Babies by PoorQueequeg
Chapter Seven
A while later and Worrall was tied up in the trunk, his hands and feet bound by his belt and shoelaces. Helen sat in the passenger seat, idly flicking through his phone. Outside Jason closed the hood and then leant his palms flat across it, pushing from his broad shoulders in an attempt to get the warped metal to stay closed. It flexed loudly under his hands and the car bobbed up and down from the force of his efforts. Surveying his handiwork and satisfied it would stay shut, he jogged around the car and climbed in the driver's side.
"Alright?" Helen asked looking up and down his sodden form. He sniffed and wiped away a drop of rain that was clinging to the end of his nose.
"Fine," he answered, pressing his knuckles with a loud cracking sound. Helen wrinkled her nose distastefully. "Shall we?" he asked, leaning forward and turning the key in the ignition and she raised her brows in assent. The engine made a clicking sounds for several seconds before the starter motor began to wheeze. Jason clenched his jaw and continued to push against the pedals. "Come on," he muttered and the engine roared suddenly to life. It raged at them furiously from under the hood, whining and grunting as Jason jerked the shift into gear.
They made their way along the river, the Mustang complaining noisily the entire way. Helen had the feeling that Jason wanted to yell at her for trashing his precious car but he seethed quietly instead, expressing himself instead by twisting his face up and jerking the stick about angrily. She wasn't sure they were going to make it all the way to the shipping yards, especially not by the convoluted route they were forced to take. More than once she had to jump out of the car and scout ahead in the rain soaked night to find a way through the maze of sheds and cranes that dotted the docks.
Eventually they found themselves on a quiet road riddled with potholes that Jason was sure would take them in the right direction and they drove at a snails' pace in an effort to prevent the bumper from falling off where he had haphazardly tied it onto the underside of the car. When they finally arrived at their destination, Helen bribed the security guard at the gate, stuffing the bundle of notes she had taken from Worrall's pocket into his hand. Jason drove them along the main avenue, tall stacks of shipping containers rising up on either side. He leant forward and tilted his head up.
"So here we are but which one is it?" he asked, craning his neck to peer through the windshield at the wall of metal that towered above them. Helen shook her head and examined the key again.
"Honestly, I've no idea," she answered raising her head and glancing over at him. Jason brought the car to a stop, the engine choking and shaking unhappily under the dented hood. He looked at her for a long minute, gazing into her wide blue eyes. In the half light he could make out where the red of her cheek had faded into a sickly yellow colour and felt a twinge of guilt for being angry with her. She returned his gaze for a minute before her eyes dropped to his lips and then down to the shift before finally she turned her head and looked through the back window. Jason watched her chew her lip for a second before turning his head in the same direction and nodding ever so slightly as a light went on in his head.
The lid swung open with a loud click and standing side by side, they peered down at the crumpled heap in the trunk.
"Is he alive?" Jason asked, pulling the gun from his waist and poking Worrall's prone form with it. Helen bent forward and leaned near his face.
"He's breathing," she said with a shrug before reaching forward to grasp his shoulder and shaking him. After a while he shifted and his eyes opened slowly, swallowing as he looked blearily about before his eyes opened wide and he twitched. He jerked against his restraints and turned his head about with a panicked expression on his face.
"Ah, oh!" he groaned in pain and his eyes darted towards them.
"Welcome back," Helen said in a neutral tone. Worrall eyed the butt of Jason's gun nervously.
"What do you want?" he rasped after heaving in a few breaths, wincing as pain shot through his chest. Helen held the key up and gestured at the wall of ridged steel behind her.
"I want to know which one of these this belongs to," she told him, tilting her head to one side and raising a brow at him. Worrall narrowed his eyes at her.
"Go to hell," he uttered breathily and Jason leant forward and punched him in the face. "Ah!" Worrall yelped, his head falling back against the rough fuzz of the trunk's interior.
"Try again," he leered, a menacing grin spreading across his face. Worrall panted heavily and looked at him through slitted eyes.
"Okay, okay, just don't hit me again," he rasped and John clutched his arm in a tight grip, yanking unceremoniously to a sitting position. Worrall yowled in pain and Helen pushed away a pang of pity, clenching her teeth and giving him a hard look.
"Well?" she uttered in a terse voice. Worrall looked about in his strange, reptilian way.
"Further in, the next yard," he told her sourly. Jason shoved him back down and slammed the trunk closed. Worrall squealed in terror, banging about loudly inside and Helen and Jason exchanged a guilty look before climbing back into the car.
In the next yard they repeated the process and after a few threats and a little shoving Worrall directed them down a track that lead off to one side along the waterfront. Helen looked out across the dark water at the lights of the city in the distance as she stepped out of the car, her hair whipping across her face and droplets of rain clinging to her eyelashes. Jason pulled Worrall out of the trunk, tugging the belt off from around his feet and looping it around his neck like a leash, ignoring Helen's raised brow and shoving his prisoner in the back. Worrall staggered and twisted his hands against their bindings, wincing in agony. Jason tugged on the belt and Worrall gasped for breath. "Which. One?" he snarled.
"Red," Worrall breathed, closing eyes and slumping forward. "Ends in seven one four." Jason jabbed his gun into his back and pushed him forward along the track, the headlights on the Mustang illuminating their path. Helen walked ahead with the key in her hand, squinting at the numbers on the containers. A few yards up she came to a stop.
"I think this is it," she said, turning her head towards them and blinking against the rain. She squatted down and began to unfasten the padlocked bolts at the base of the door, her fingers stiff from the damp. She levered the handles on one side of the container and pulled. It swung slowly open, creaking loudly on it's hinges. Her eyes went wide as she peered inside and then stepped through. Jason shuffled closer to get a look, maintaining his grip on his prisoner.
His wrinkled his nose at the stench. There were crates of water and plastic tubs full of meal-worms and locusts in a corner, garbage littering the floor. Against one wall there was a long table, covered with dirty chemistry equipment. Stacked in the corner behind it were steel cages and Jason could see several sets of green eyes glinting in the dim red light from an incubator that sat on top of a fridge beside them. Helen winced as they creatures yowled and squawked, shifting around nervously at their presence. She stepped closer and peered into the incubator, the red light illuminating her face. She saw several rows of eggs lined up under a heat lamp and lifting the lid, picked one up to turn it about in her fingers before gingerly setting it back down. She turned her had and looked Worrall in the eye.
"Quite the cottage industry you've got here," she said bitterly and he clenched his jaw, raising his chin and meeting her gaze defiantly. Jason stood open mouthed taking in the sight before him.
"What the...what is this stuff?"he asked incredulously. Worrall remained silent, twisting his wrists about against the restraints. Helen took a step towards them.
"You're disgusting," she spat but Worrall didn't flinch, merely gazed off at an unknown spot behind her. "What about Christopher?" she asked and Jason snapped his head round to look at her.
Worrall wrinkled his nose and remained silent. Jason tugged on the belt and jabbed his gun in against Worrall's cheek, shoving him sideways against the wall. Worrall let out a yelp, his facing screwing up as he impacted painfully against the cold steel. "Answer the question!" he barked.
Worrall opened his eyes and looked at him sideways through slitted eyes. "I don't know where he is," he ground out bitterly. "I haven't seen him for days. Not since he stiffed me."
"What are you talking about?" Jason sneered and Worrall looked at him with revulsion but said nothing.
"Where is he?" Helen asked, crossing her arms across her chest. Worrall looked over at her for a second and Jason stuffed the barrel of his gun into Worrall's side.
"He's gone man, skipped town," he rasped fearfully.
"Why?" Worrall shook his head a little.
"How should I know? He was O'Shea's bitch, not mine," Jason seethed, his hand tensing and jerking on the belt around Worrall's neck.
"You know what I think?" Jason said in a dark tone, leaning closer. "I think you're full of shit."
Helen worked her jaw back and forth for a moment and turned her head to regard Jason. She could see the rage bubbling under the stoney facade, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily through his nose. She touched her tongue to her lower lip and dropped her gaze, staring through the abraded glass of a beaker on the dusty table. Jason's eyes darted towards her for a second and he shifted his grip on the belt a little.
"Please tell me I can put a bullet in this scaley son of a bitch" he said and she exhaled a little breath as the creatures squeaked and rattled around in the cages behind her. Worrall panted heavily and his eyes grew wide.
"You wouldn't," he rasped. "I know who you are," he told her and Helen jerked her head around to look him in the face as he spoke. "You...you won't kill me!" She clenched her jaw and glared at him as Jason pulled his hand back suddenly and smacked him in the side of the head with his gun.
"But I might," he said leaning close to whisper darkly in Worrall's ear.
Helen huffed and pulled out her phone. "I need to make a call. Stay here," she instructed and stepped behind Jason and out into the rain.
She pushed the heavy metal door back and sheltered in the space between the containers, pulling her collar up against the weather as she dialled home. Helen had just put the phone to her ear and was listening to the familiar ringing tone when there was an almighty crash in the container behind her, the heavy thump of a body and the sound of breaking glass. The metal door swung rapidly open and smacked against the corner of the neighbouring container, the loud sound resounding along the narrow passage where she stood making her ears twinge painfully. Stuffing her phone into her pocket and pulling her gun from the waistband of her pants, she kicked the door hard out of the way.
She looked from side to side to see Worrall sprinting away along the stoney mud track and raised her gun instinctively. Turning her head to peer into the container she saw Jason sprawled across the table top amid a sea of smashed glass, the abnormals in the cages behind thrashing in panic, small clawed toes and scaled muzzles pressing against the metal bars. Jason pushed himself up on his arms and raised his hand, still clutching his gun, to rub his temple.
"Go! Go!" he wheezed, winded from the blow and Helen immediately set off down the darkened track in pursuit. Worrall was fast but his escape was hindered by the bindings on his wrists. In the distance she could see his shoulders hitching from side to side as he twisted his arms in an effort to get them free. He ran in staggering, mal-co-ordinated steps, the loose end of the belt around his neck slapping loudly against the cheap vinyl of his coat.
Helen sprinted after him, kicking up little spurts of gravel as her boots impacted the ground. She raised her arm in front of her and fired off a couple of rounds that flew over Worrall's head. She followed him along the water's edge as the track curved to follow a contour on the riverbank. Wide concrete blocks sloped down between the path and the waterline, a wide muddy patch littered with large moss covered stones and rusted shopping carts exposed by the receding tide. Worrall bounded down the slope in huge leaps as inertia and gravity dragged him towards the water. He began to run across the exposed rocks towards the overgrowth that covered the bank on the other side. Helen fired off another round and he ducked, the bullet narrowly missing his ear. Unable to right his balance with his hands still bound, Worrall floundered across the wet stone, losing his footing on the slippery moss and falling face first to the ground.
He disappeared from Helen's view for a moment as she continued forward, her feet landing in wet pools of gravel and weeds as she tried to avoid the slimey tops of the stones. Ahead of her Worrall managed to get to his feet but she had closed the distance between them considerably and raising her gun again, she squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit him squarely in the shoulder and he let out a cry, his body hunching forward from the force of the impact. He began to weave about chaotically but managed to make up the sloping concrete and into the trees.
Helen looked about frantically as she entered the darkened copse, her breathing loud in her ears and her eyes adjusted to the blackness. She could hear Worrall ahead of her, the branches creaking and swaying loudly as he pushed between them. Thorny branches scratched her cheeks and her hair pulled painfully as it caught on the brambles. Letting out a gasp, she raised her arms in front of her face as she powered forward until she came out onto the cracked surface of a service road. Ahead Worrall was stumbling along under the tall street lamps that lined the road, hunched over with his hands still bound behind his back. He staggered forward and collapsed onto his side onto a low wall of concrete blocks as the road turned sharply. Helen ran towards him, a hard gust of wind stealing her breath and whipping her hair across her eyes. Worrall raised his head and looked at her, his eyes two black orbs in his face and his forked tongue flicking out between his lips before he listed to the side and fell over the wall out of sight.
Her knees bumped into the wall as she came to a stop, her palms flat across the cold stone as she leaned across to peer over the edge. She ran her eyes across the jagged rocks below, the gray angular surfaces bright in the yellow light of the lamps above, a wide band of green sludge hugging the water's edge. Worrall was nowhere in sight.