The Lodge by Chris Coppel

Author:Chris Coppel [Coppel, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781800467200
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
Published: 2020-09-19T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Andrew was dreaming that he was at his police graduation ceremony. His parents were there with him, watching proudly from the front row. They were waving. His dad looked as proud as proud could be. His ma was crying she was so happy.

Andrew was crying as he slept. Even in his dream, he somehow knew that his parents weren’t there. They had died years before that day.

As he stood on the stage, he was waving back at his parents but for some reason someone was shaking him.

“Andrew, wake up,” Helen said. “Come on – we’ve got something to show you.”

He tried to keep his eyes shut so as to keep the last tendrils of the dream alive.

To keep his parents alive.

“Andrew!” She shook him a little harder.

The fabric of the dream separated into a million disjointed parts. Try as he may, he couldn’t get them to reform into the happy image.

He opened his eyes. Helen was sitting on the edge of his bed, one hand on his shoulder.

“We need you to see something.”

“This better be good.” Andrew hardly recognised his croaky morning voice.

“I’m not sure that’s the word for it.” Helen left him alone in the room to throw on some clothes.

He caught up with her in the kitchen. They walked to the service area, donned outdoor gear and made their way to the shed. The snow had stopped completely but not before adding a good few slippery centimetres to the tamped snow pathway. It was just past seven on Christmas morning. It was still fully dark.

Helen led him into the shed. Leon was in the locker room, trying unsuccessfully to unhook a side of beef from the metal ceiling grid. Andrew stepped in to help, and grabbed the other side of the carcass and lifted. Both men were straining but without much success.

“I thought you were going to tell me that Alan had shown up,” Andrew said.

“He did. You’re holding him.”

Andrew involuntarily let go and stumbled backwards.

“How do you know that’s Alan?” Andrew asked.

Leon slowly rotated the hanging carcass. At the top, where the neck ended, was Alan’s Christmas bow tie.

Repulsed, Andrew realised that the hanging meat was, indeed, Alan. Or at least what was left of him. He had been butchered. Butterflied to be precise. Cut down the middle, gutted and cleaned. His legs had been cut off at the knees, arms at the elbows, and his head removed at the top of the neck.

There was no blood. The body looked as cleanly butchered as any piece of meat he’d ever seen.

Andrew turned to Leon. His expression said it all.

“Don’t look at me,” Leon said. “I didn’t do this. You and I together couldn’t get him down. How do you think I could have got him up there?”

Andrew looked out past the locker door to Helen. She looked pale and shaken.

“Don’t be daft! We didn’t do this!” she said.

“Then who did?”

“No fucking idea,” Leon snapped.

They both stood, looking at what was left of Alan.

“Could this be someone’s idea of a joke?” Andrew said.

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