Notorious - John Jones (read after .TXT) 📗

vain attempt to reduce the sliding of Malcolm’s mood since he was attacked, and even though his own mood was not much higher, he knew that it was not incisive to dwell within depression or gloom.

“I ought to go there straight away,” said Malcolm.

“I'll run you if you like. Why don't you call whatsername? Melissa, was it? If you’re going to see Curio, and he's going to get in contact with your dad, then why don't you give her a ring so she can come and film it?” Malcolm thought about it for a few moments.

“I really ought to just get down there”.

“Have her meet us on the way”.

“I suppose”.

“Go on, you never know, she might appreciate it,” he said with another grin. Malcolm said nothing, but turned and looked back out of the window, then looked back again.

“Come on, let's go,” he said, walking past, into the hall.

“I have to pick up Anthony anyway,” said Tom, “'cos we've got a class in half an hour, so we best move”.

A few minutes later, Tom was sitting in the driving seat, as Malcolm stood outside of the pavement, ringing Melissa. He heard a muffled voice, then the door opened and Tom started the engine.

“Ten minutes, at the corner of the Mechanical engineering building” Malcolm said. Tom nodded, and started the engine.

“How’s your uni work coming along then?” he asked.

“Uni work?” said Malcolm. “I’ve almost forgotten what I’m studying. Actually, I might as well forget it now, anyway. I’ve fallen too far behind. I’ll probably drop out”. After a few minutes, Tom saw Melissa waiting, and slowed the car down.

“Hey look,” said Tom, “She’s wearing a nice frilly dress. I don’t think she got dressed up to go to uni. I think she might have her eye on somebody”. He leaned closer to Malcolm and said rather loudly:

“Who do you think it could be?”. Malcolm reddened and looked out of the passenger window. Tom stopped the car, and Melissa walked across with her bag containing the camcorder. She got into the back seat.

“Hi guys,” she said, closing the back door. “Did you hear what happened at uni?” Tom looked around.

“I know there were loads of police around”.

“It’s Stuart. One of the tutors killed him”. Malcolm and Tom both frowned.

“Part of the uni is still closed, but some classes are still ok. Pity, he was a good guy”. She looked solemn. Tom, in his unofficial role of lightener of moods, said:

“Well, if he didn’t do his work on time...”. Melissa simply looked at him with a face that conveyed more than words. Malcolm did the same. Tom sighed, and pulled the car away from the kerb. There were a few moments of heavy silence, and Tom, still in his role, decided to risk another mood lightening statement:

 

“I understand that you’re doing a project on the supernatural, and Stuart was part of it, wasn’t he? Well, he’s taken things a bit too far hasn’t he? in actually going to see the spirit world. Anything for those marks”. He looked in the mirror and saw Melissa not so much smile, but seem to accept it as an attempt to make her feel better. She did not say anything, but her expression was at least lighter. He saw Malcolm looking at him as though he’d told a ‘groaner’. He shook his head. Tom wished he hadn’t mentioned the end of the last comment, as he remembered that Melissa had her camcorder, and that despite Stuart’s recent passing away, there was still a project to complete. He thought it should continue, but not so soon, but then, he guessed there were not too many opportunities to film professional psychics at work, so his moral judgement forgave her what he thought was slight impropriety.

“So you managed to persuade Curio to give you another reading?” Melissa asked Malcolm. It was Tom who answered.

“Yes, his fantastic powers of persuasion managed to win him round, that and five hundred smackeroonies”.

“Five hundred pounds?” she said, loudly. “I thought you were poor”.

“He is,” Tom continued, “Yours truly has bailed him out”.

“Well, that’s very kind of you,” she said.

“I’ve told him, there’s no need to hurry in paying me back. It’s not as if I need it”. He wondered about letting her in on the secret of his finances, but then decided against it.

 

No, he thought. She was a stranger. What if her father worked in a bank? What if she abhorred thieves and demanded to be let out of the car? Would that jeopardise a potential relationship between her and Malcolm? ‘How could you be friends with a thief?’. It meant that should she question its roots, he would have to lie, and let Malcolm know the same falsehood should it be needed. Tom decided he’d already told enough people anyway, and he knew Anthony didn’t want to lose what he had gained, so would probably stay quiet about it. It was in both their interests.

 

He drove to Anthony’s house, to find him stood at the gate, folder under his arm, coat zipped up tightly, waiting patiently for his transport as his vehicle was being fitted with a new radiator. Tom didn’t pull up to the kerb. He simply stopped and let Anthony walk across and slide into the back seat.

“Hi, alright?” he said as an acknowledgement to them all. He closed the door, and Tom drove onward.

“Slight detour,” said Tom, “I’m running these two to see Curio Enchantment. Malcolm’s getting a reading”.

“He can’t,” said Anthony, “He won’t be in”. Malcolm frowned, and turned as fully as the seat belt would allow him to look at him.

“How do you know?” he asked.

“He’s down in London. He’s having some tests done to find out if he really has got psychic powers. He’s basically gone down to prove to scientists that he’s gifted. I don’t know how long he’s going to spend down there. Probably not long I should imagine, ‘cos he lives here, doesn’t he?”. Malcolm sighed, and looked forward, out of the windscreen, only to find that Tom had pulled up outside of a newsagents, and was leaving the vehicle.

“Where’s he going?” asked Anthony, watching him walk into the shop.

“What now?” Melissa asked Malcolm.

“I’ve got to get another reading. I’ve got to somehow get in touch with my parents, or that Ian. They’ll know why people are trying to kill me, and they’ll also know how to call them off”.

“Can you be sure of that?” Malcolm shook his head.

“No, but I can’t see what else I can do. Call the police? Yes, officer, these people are trying to kill me. Why? Well, it looks like they’re after some virus or something that I may or may not have, and the only ones that know are my parents who are both dead. A psychic told me that my Dad’s angry with me for not letting ‘Ian’ kill me.

 

So maybe, officer, my Dad has sent these people to kill me as part of some cult ritual. I think I’ve become part of it, and they want me as a sacrifice. Any chance of putting me in a safe house? I mean, seriously, they’ll lock me up and send me to a lunatic asylum. I suppose there I should have some protection”. Anthony was looking at him with wide eyes.

“What if it’s right?” he said, “If Curio has a genuine link to the other side, then who knows what implications it could have. Perhaps there’s some truth in what you say”.

“Perhaps,” said Malcolm. Tom opened the door and slid back into his seat.

“Why the pit stop?” asked Anthony. Tom slid a box of matches into his cream jacket. “I’m going to burn Ryvak,” he said, then started the engine, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. By the tone of his voice, Anthony believed that Tom was serious. “NO!” he shouted. “You can’t. It’s closed. It’s closed, you can’t burn it”. Malcolm frowned, but Melissa asked the question he was about to ask:

“What’s going on?” She was not answered. Malcolm saw that Tom’s face had become set in a serious expression. Tom revved the engine hard. A few passers-by looked in their direction.

“Tom, no, don't,” said Anthony. “I’ve told the police. I sent them a letter telling them that it was you causing them to go bust”. Tom did not look at him, or seem to hear. Anthony realised what he had said aloud, and knew that there were no excuses now. His real feelings had to be known to Tom.

“I had to. I had to,”. He felt the car move forward slightly.

“Tom? Are you alright?” asked Malcolm. He was not answered. Anthony got out of the vehicle and walked quickly in front of the car. He held up both hands in a gesture for him to stop, but the car kept coming forward.

“Tom, no, you can’t do it. It can be saved. Ryvak can open. Don’t do it, Tom, please”. He walked backwards in time with the car at around five feet away, but then it stopped. Tom revved the engine again, his face stern. It was as though he wasn’t seeing Anthony, as though he wasn’t there.

“Tom, what are you doing?” said Melissa. “Come on, let’s get to uni, or…”. Malcolm locked the handbrake, and Tom looked confused as to why he couldn’t drive forward.

“Come on Tom, what’s going on?”. Tom looked down at the handbrake, and took it off. Malcolm saw that his face had not changed. The engine was revved again, and the tyres spun and screeched before the vehicle surged onward. Anthony was still backing away when the full realisation struck him that the vehicle was speeding straight at him. The car also struck him before he could leap out of the way. The bumper hit his knees, and he crashed onto the bonnet.

 

The car stalled, Anthony sliding to the ground. The vehicle started, and came forward again, hitting Anthony’s right shoulder. He sprawled back, screaming. The car drove on, the right wheel rolling onto his foot, cracking his heel and ankle. Anthony screamed and collapsed back. Melissa screamed also, and Malcolm froze in fear, scared incase Tom turned on him. With the impact of falling back, and the weight of the tyre and engine, Anthony’s heel and ankle were shattered. The tyre rolled forward, splitting his femur. He screamed as the tyre crushed his hip-bone, and his right side ribs. Tom was frowning. The car wasn’t moving as fast as he’d thought.

 

He stopped and revved the engine again. Anthony could not scream as his lungs were pressing against his spinal column. He arched his head back and opened his mouth in a vain attempt to breathe, but the tyre spun again, ripping the skin from his chest. The vehicle surged onwards, the tyre rolling across his throat. With his head at a 45 degree angle, the full weight of the machine crushed and cracked his head, his eyes bulging before being squashed against his brain, which in turn was squashed against the pavement. Pieces of brain, cranium and hair were caught in the grooves of the tyre as it gained purchase on the road. The tyre behind followed the same path. When that gained purchase, they were all jolted back in their seat as they surged forward. Tom built up speed, weaving his way through traffic, ignoring car horns and the occasional shout. At 80mph, he sped towards Liverpool.

 

Malcolm and Melissa were clinging onto anything they could, their faces white with fear. Their occasional shouts for him to stop went ignored, or unheard. There were a few red lights he sped through, and near misses of people and other vehicles, but he managed to reach the entrance to the Mersey tunnel after around twenty minutes.

 

The car overtook all the other vehicles driving through, and the passengers tried again to plead with him to stop, but it was futile. Malcolm saw the look on Tom’s face and that told him that he knew he would not listen. It may not