He Runs (Part One) Read Free

foundations.
                  He hops over the wall, making sure to keep his skin away from the barbed wire, and runs to the side of the house, keeping his head below the ground-floor window ledge. Behind the farm house is the barn, a mud-coloured block of corrugated iron that looks more industrial than agricultural. Close by, Man can hear the clucking of chickens. He thinks of their eggs, pilfered on a daily basis by their captors.
                  ‘Shit!’ whispers Man to himself, as another thought creeps into his head. There could be someone else inside the house. An elderly parent, perhaps, or a child. A stupid mistake, borne out of hunger and desperation. But the reward, in this case, certainly outweighs the risk. And if he is spotted then he can subdue the person, trade flesh for flesh.
                  Man creeps forward, feels a cooling breeze tunnelled between the house and barn. He moves toward the barn door, the side entrance, which stands open to the world. The karambit is hooked over his thumb, the curved, five inch blade ready to slice through anything that comes close.
                  ‘Hold it still!’ says Daniel, his voice dampened by the steel walls.
                  ‘I’m trying,’ replies Celeste, ‘but it’s strong! Hurry up and do it!’
                  ‘I don’t want to hit your hand! Hold her still!’
                  ‘ It, Daniel, it’s an it! ’
                  Man closes in on the barn door, thick clumps of grass on the ground cushioning his feet, quietening his approach. He positions his face so that he can see through the gap between the door and the hinges, peers in with his good eye.
                  He sees the cow, number forty three, her, it, a rope taught around the neck, the beast huffing and puffing; he sees the axe swing down, the blade whistling a death song through its silvery arc. Steel splits through fur and meat and the animal slumps in an explosion of blood, its bulky mass convulsing, the nerves firing off in sensory firestorms as they try to keep the beast alive. The axe falls again, hits the neck, passes through vertebrae. Again. And again. And again, until the cow’s head lies separate from its body, its neck a circle of gore, spewing blood like a burst pipe.
    Daniel’s face is red-speckled, thin lines of blood racing down into his beard like roads on a map. Man looks closer, sees that Daniel’s nose has been broken. Wonders why. The woman called Celeste moves fully into Man’s view, puts a hand on Daniel’s shoulder, and nuzzles into him. She lifts her head and Man sees her face; she’s beautiful, even with the thick, pink scar running over her left eye and down onto the cheek. Man smiles to himself, looks at her eyes and notices that they are green; two deep emerald pools. He sees her standing in those dungarees, cuddling her partner, kissing him on the shoulder as number forty three’s blood laps at their wellington boots like the last tide of a summer’s day.
     
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    Man runs as fast as he can, jumping over walls with an agility he reserves for such occasions as this. He’s pretty sure that no one else was in the house.
    He left just as Daniel and Celeste began to butcher the cow, its carcass hanging on a metal hook, winched in the barn by an old pulley rig.
    Man’s lungs are not what they used to be and he sucks hard for air, hurdling ancient walls and dodging cows. He runs until he is back in the forest. He runs until he can see Hound.
    The dog is lying on his belly but jumps up with excitement when Man approaches, huffing and wheezing. The beast jumps on his hind legs but is stopped by the tension of the wire lead. Man moves to Hound, offers his hand for the dog to sniff. He loosens the muzzle. No growls. No barks. Hound has missed him.
    ‘Good boy!’ says Man.