Long time, no blog. I was keeping a lockdown diary but it turned into Groundhog Day. Never mind, the festive season approaches and, in the run up to Halloween, the wonderful UK Crime Book Club, a Facebook group of 13,000+ crime writers and readers, runs a Scary Shorts story event. Here’s mine…
RUSH JOB by Bill Todd – #ukcbcshorts
Quite something, escaping a serial killer, a real rush. The chaos came out of nowhere, just the five of us working late on the 16th floor.
A normal shift, well, as normal as night shift rush jobs ever are. It started when the power went. The striplights flickered off, the computer screens died.
There was a collective groan. Clive swore and everyone knew he hadn’t saved what he was working on. Then Cindy discovered the phones weren’t working either.
We called to each other, wanting reassuring voices in the gloom. Becca said someone from maintenance would come but Cindy, the ambitious alpha female of our ad hoc night shift, just sneered.
‘Those lazy bastards will be eating kebabs and watching porn in the basement. If their power’s gone they’ll be off home. Andre wants our results first thing so we need to get this resolved.’
A faint silver light filtered into the office from surrounding towers and it picked out Cindy’s shape as she moved towards the door. The second she was out of sight her scream made our perspex workstation partitions rattle.
The ambient light caught the edge of what might have been a large blade. Then something like a football arced into the room. It hit the carpet with a squelch, rumbled off across the floor, came to rest under an unused desk.
Becca was a happy gentle girl, keen on yoga, veganism and saving the planet. Now she was whimpering.
No-nonsense rugby guy Clive called out, ‘Cindy, stop messing about… Cindy! … CINDY?
We all heard the squeak of the gas strut on his office chair. It always made that noise. Dev, our computer whizz and keen quizzer – he’d been on The Chase – always made the same weary fart jokes when that happened. But not tonight.
Conscious we were all watching him, or at least listening, Clive strode towards the corridor where Cindy had disappeared.
We saw him stop suddenly, heard him gasp. ‘What the fu… Who the hell are y…?’
The gluey gurgling noise made my blood run to ice. Becca began sobbing which almost masked the sound of Dev mumbling what might have been a prayer.
As my mind cartwheeled, thrown from its mountings by utter shock, I tried to focus, keep control, but hot urine flushed down my legs.
Becca was making little baby noises now, ‘Please don’t… please don’t…’
Then Dev. ‘Leave her alone. Who are you? What do you…?’
Faint light caught the blade again. It looked huge… curved… couldn’t be… a scythe?
Dev grunted and I saw his body sag. There was a soggy slithering noise, like wet laundry slapping onto lino. My throbbing brain just couldn’t understand what was happening.
Now Becca was making little whining kitten noises. I could see the shape approaching her. I don’t know who the butcher was or why they were doing this. All I could hear was the twack, thwack, thwack of that great blade biting into meat and bone.
With a sudden surge of toxic energy I was up and running for the door. Call me a coward, I don’t care. The floor was carpeted with shapes, bags, tubing, crunchy things, everything slick with an abattoir sheen.
Becca’s begging stopped suddenly just as I skidded out of the office into the corridor. Desperate to disappear, I dived through the first door, only realising it was the stairway to the roof as I pounded up the steps, lungs aching, brain screaming.
The rush of relief powered me upwards. As I burst out into the consoling blanket of cool night air on the roof I felt as if I was in a murder movie climax or the epic showdown in some superhero franchise.
The butcher had attacked bigger people than me, stronger people. Yet I’d managed to break free.
Then terror welled in my guts when I thought I heard slow, heavy footsteps coming up the stairwell.
All I could think was to keep going, rush on, stay ahead, rush, rush, rush.
I ran till I couldn’t run any more and now I’m free. I’ve cheated the blade, beaten the butcher. What a rush!
But it hasn’t been without a cost. I’m a keen quizzer, second best member of our office quiz team. Well, the best member now, I suppose.
We were on the 16th floor and I’d rushed up to the 18th to escape the butcher’s knife. Terminal velocity for a falling human body is 118mph but I’m not sure our office tower is tall enough for me to reach that before I hit the paveme…
©BILL TODD 2020
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UKCBC has published an anthology of crime short stories – CRIMINAL SHORTS – in aid of charity. There are 22 stories including a new Danny Lancaster tale – Lucky Break. All proceeds go to the Red Kite Special Academy for children with physical and learning disabilities in Corby, Northants, UK.
The paperback is out now. Buy it here: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08LPQ3CWV
And preorder the ebook here: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08LH879H4/
For more info, visit these links:
Promo video: https://youtube.com/0NPqGkCesHE
UK Crime Book Club:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/ukcrimebookclub/ https://twitter.com/ukcrimebookclub / @ukcrimebookclub
Red Kite Academy: https://www.redkitespecialacademy.co.uk/ https://twitter.com/redkitecorby / @RedKiteCorby
And look out for #UKCBCanthology
