Doomware by Kuzack Nathan

Author:Kuzack, Nathan [Kuzack, Nathan]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Publisher: Nathan Kuzack
Published: 2014-12-21T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 26

D + 335

Even now, when he was staring certain death in the face, he thought of the boy. If he could have cried the tears would have been for him. Poor Shawn. He had made the boy dependent on him, had made him love and trust him, to the point where witnessing his death might spell the end of him too. Why had he allowed the child to call him “Dad”? Why had he made that unthinking promise? Why? So many regrets now. What might have been! Forgive me, little man. Forgive me.

Varley let go of his foot and stomped off. His eyes closed, David listened to the creature’s heavy footfalls as they receded into the distance. It was just testing me, he thought. Making sure. Jesus Christ!

When he opened his eyes again Varley was nowhere to be seen. Maybe there was still time. Maybe there was still a chance to save himself. The swelling of new hope in his breast was quelled by the sight of fading daylight. Varley preferred night-time torture sessions, he knew that much. When darkness came so too would Varley, and he would die a death as slow and agonising as those of the animals he’d heard night after night. But until then he couldn’t give up the fight. He couldn’t give up on the boy. He had this one chance – right now – and he had to take it.

Bracing himself against the windscreen, he pulled his left arm with all his might, trying to slip it free of the wire. It was a bad move, motivated purely by desperation, and all he succeeded in doing was pulling the wire even tighter. The pain was excruciating. His teeth chattered together as he thought: I am going to die. The idea of death itself he could cope with; what was death if not sleep without the dreams? It was painless. Timeless. He was certain of that much. It was painless, timeless nothingness. But the thought of being tortured to it, by the man who’d made his life a misery: that was a nightmare come true.

The boy called something to him and he looked up towards the flat.

“Shawn, listen to me, okay?” he shouted up to him. “I want you to get the big carving knife, the serrated one, from the kitchen and bring it to me, okay? Hurry!”

The boy disappeared into the flat. There was no other option now. He was Varley’s pain-feeling prize, not the boy.

What felt like an eternity later the boy came dashing through the rain, the knife in his hand. David took the knife and placed it on the roof of the car as the boy climbed onto the bonnet. He wrapped his free arm around him and pulled him close.

“Thank you,” he said breathlessly, their faces pressed together. “You’re a good boy, a brave boy.”

Shawn’s expression was a picture of anguish. “You’re going to be okay, aren’t you?” he asked tearfully.

“I don’t know,” he said, incapable of lying when the situation was obviously so dire.

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