Gripping Thrillers Read online

  Yeah, I suppose you did. Celebrate success, right? Celebrate our successes and forgive our failures, that’s the company motto. One of about a thousand. A bon mot for every occasion.

  You don’t need alcohol to have fun.

  You are in control of whether you take a drink. You are not in control of what you may do afterwards.

  Just say no.

  “Nice one, Adam,” said Kevin with a wink. “Shell’s at a hen party tonight if you want to come back to my place to celebrate. I have the finest zero-alcohol wine you’ll ever find.”

  “I think I’ll pass, Kev, but cheers anyway.”

  “Okay!” Patrick clapped his hands. “Who else would like to share with the group tonight? Costa? You’ve spoken a little about your past previously. Do you feel you’ve come to terms with some of the things that have caused issues in your life?”

  Costa – young, olive-skinned, Costa – didn’t seem like a man with problems. He was calm, and often charming, but Adam detected a hint of aggression beneath his handsome smile. Right now, he slouched in his chair, legs crossed, with one white trainer up on his knee and his red leather jacket hanging open. “I’ve been doing better lately,” he said, “almost like I’m ready to put the past behind me and start again. Haven’t had a drink in almost two months. I feel positive.”

  “That’s excellent,” said Patrick, beaming. “I believe your mother’s anniversary is coming up. How long has it been now?”

  Costa cleared his throat and put down his leg. Both of his knees peeked out through his ripped jeans. He sat stiffly. “A year next month. I get home some nights and go into her bedroom still expecting her to be there. The other day I…” He shook his head. “This is silly, but I found some of her medicines in the bathroom cabinet, and for a moment I just stood there holding them with a smile on my face. It was like the months I spent caring for her had been quality time. I actually miss it.”

  Patrick nodded as if he understood fully. Perhaps he did. “You were there for your mother, Costa. She raised you alone, struggling to pay the bills, but at the end you were there for her. I think it’s understandable that you miss nursing her through her cancer. It was your way of paying back all of that love she gave you. It’s a bittersweet memory and entirely understandable.”

  Costa nodded, his dark eyelashes lowering. “I’m just ashamed. I would rather her still be here suffering than gone completely.”

  Adam found it hard to empathise with that statement. Katy and James were gone, but he would never wish them back if it meant they would suffer. He didn’t judge Costa for it though; it merely highlighted how complex and individual grief was. And yet, the outlet for everyone in this room was the same – alcohol. Alcohol was the medicine they chose, and it was killing them all.

  Hell of a way to die, but no way to live.

  Patrick kept the conversation going. “You told me a few months back that you tracked down your birth father after your mother’s death. How has that relationship been going?”

  “It’s going okay. I knew nothing about him growing up, but when mum got sick, she didn’t want me to be alone. She told me about him a month before she died. When I tracked him down, he was happy to see me, which was a surprise. We’ve even started working together recently. Family business, I guess you would call it.”

  “Wonderful news. I suspect this new relationship is helping you move forward instead of looking back. That’s something we can all learn from. A big part of being an alcoholic is routine and habit. If we mix with the same old people in the same old places, it becomes very hard to alter our behaviours. Therefore, new friends and new relationships can be therapeutic. We should all try new things as much as possible – perhaps one new thing a week would be a good goal to set ourselves. Betty? Have you tried anything new recently?”

  “Booked a cruise,” she said.

  “Excellent,” said Patrick.

  “Then cancelled it.”

  “Oh dear. Would you not like to get away?”

  Betty had her arms folded, and she didn’t make eye contact as she spoke. A fleshy pink mole on her nose twitched. “What would be the point? Every holiday I ever had was with my Ron. Without him…” She shrugged, still staring down at her hands. “What would I do all by myself on a cruise? Everything in this world is made for two.”

  Adam looked away. That’s not true. Loneliness is made for one.

  Patrick shook his head. “I don’t believe that, Betty, but wouldn’t it be an even greater reason to make a connection? Could you perhaps try to make a new friend?”

  “What for?”

  Adam rolled his eyes. Making friends was probably difficult when you were so consistently negative. As much as he hated his life, he did enjoy interacting with other people. Sometimes, during the most mundane of conversations, he might forget all about his past and would, for a brief second, be his old self again. Just a normal person chatting. Not the husband of a dead wife and father to a dead son.

  Not a monster.

  Betty shrugged her shoulders and sniffed. “I don’t want to make a new friend. I’m too old. Only reason I wake up in the morning is to kill time until I’m reunited with my Ron. We fell in love at fourteen, do you understand that?” She thrust out a wrinkled hand, showing off the obscene ruby on her wedding finger. “It’s like I lost both me legs and you’re telling me to go run a sodding race.”

  Kevin chuckled, brownie crumbs falling on his chest. He began to cough and splutter.

  John leant forward with concern. “You okay, big guy?”

  Kevin fought for breath, patting himself on the chest with his fist. “Ahem. Y-Yeah, sorry, the brownies… They’re so dry!”

  “Well, if you do insist on being diabetic,” said John. “Inconsiderate, if you ask me.”

  Kevin chuckled again. He’d gone red in the face and a bead of sweat had appeared on his cheek. Adam wondered how it must feel to be morbidly obese, to break a sweat from merely coughing. To be that unfit. Adam reminded himself that he was no gymnast himself, but he still struggled to comprehend what life must be like in a body twice the size it should be.

  Exhausting, I imagine.

  The lights flickered once more as thunder boomed even louder than before. Everybody flinched, and Adam’s mind travelled back to the early days of his marriage when he had booked a log cabin in Leicestershire during the winter. Their first night had seen torrential downpours, so they spent the evening drinking wine in a hot tub beneath a bamboo canopy, watching the rain hit the lake. Every happy memory he had involved alcohol.

  Every bad one too.

  Kevin started coughing again. Betty reached over irritably and started whacking him on the back until he stopped. Meanwhile, the rain outside fell harder, drumming on the windowpanes.

  “I think we may have to cut tonight short, folks.” Patrick’s eyes seemed genuinely sad behind his spectacles as he peered around the group. Adam often suspected these meetings were the highlight of his week. “Tasha, I had hoped to learn more about you before we wrapped up. Is there anything you would like to share quickly?”

  She shifted awkwardly in her seat as she had the last time attention had turned on her. Her hands were buried in her baggy sleeves, and the neck of her hoodie rose almost to her mouth. She sat forward. “Um, do you, like, want the short version of why I’m here?”

  Patrick put his hands together in a prayer gesture and used them to point at her. “Whatever you would like to share, Tasha. What does alcohol mean to you?”

  “It means… being numb, I guess. It means forgetting all of the bad shit that’s happened in my life. That I was there and couldn’t help him. It means tricking myself into feeling okay for a while, even if it’s not real. But it’s bullshit, right? That’s why I’m here. To get help before it gets worse. I don’t want to end up like… well, you know?”

  “Like us,” said Kevin, patting his blubbery thigh and cackling. He only stopped because another coughing fit came over him.

  Geez. Sounds li
ke he’s about to hack up a lung.

  Patrick thanked Tasha for speaking. “I look forward to going further with you on your journey, and I promise we will all be here to support you. Okay, folks, let’s call it a ni—”

  The lights blinked off again.

  They waited in silence for a full minute before Patrick sighed. “Blast it. There goes any chance of setting the alarm before we leave. I’ll have to pop down the road and let Margaret know we couldn’t lock up tonight.”

  Thunder boomed again. In the darkness, it took them even more by surprise and Tasha actually yelped.

  “Easy there,” John told her.

  The lights came on and everyone sighed with relief.

  Kevin coughed again, a great phlegmy splutter that threw him forward. A second cough sent him off his chair entirely and onto his hands and knees. Betty shook her head and tutted, but John leapt up and started patting the big man on the back. Adam leapt up too. Something about the sound Kevin was making was wrong. He’s in trouble.

  The coughing changed to strangled gagging and Kevin began to grasp at his throat. Adam tried to get the man onto his side, but he was too big and strong. He threw out his arms in every direction and Adam took a knock to his jaw that sent him sprawling. Only adrenaline kept him on task. “Kevin, you need to calm down. Kevin! Kevin, stop struggling.”

  Kevin jerked upright and stared into Adam’s face. The terror in his eyes was indescribable. His round cheeks were an angry purple. He’s fighting for his life and he knows it.

  Still clutching his throat, Kevin went completely still. John swept around behind him and applied the Heimlich manoeuvre, but no relief came. Kevin’s cheeks remained purple. The terror remained in his eyes. He hitched once. Twice. Then his entire body slumped, like a battery had been removed. His chin dropped against his chest and his arms flopped. Kevin’s weight was too much for John, so his large body slipped free and collapsed onto the ground face first. Everyone gasped in horror. Then shocked silence filled the hall.

  This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. Kevin!

  Adam rolled Kevin onto his back and slapped the man’s cheeks, shoved his fingers down his throat and beat at his huge chest. He didn’t know what he was doing so he just did anything.

  We need a doctor.

  Somebody, call his wife. Shit, she’s at a hen party. She’s probably having a whale of a time with no clue that her husband is face down on the ground.

  John placed an ear against Kevin’s gaping mouth and listened. After a moment, he moved away with a wide-eyed expression. “I-I think he’s dead. He’s not breathing.”

  “Lord no,” said Patrick. “Somebody, call an ambulance.”

  “We can’t,” said Costa. “There’s no signal here.”

  “He’s right,” said Betty. “I used to get at least one bar, but these last few weeks there’s been no blinkin’ network at all.”

  Patrick put his hands against his cheeks and raked them downwards, ghoulishly stretching his face. “Does anybody have a signal? Anybody?”

  Everyone checked. Everyone shook their heads.

  The lights flickered and went off again.

  “Christ, that’s all we need,” said John.

  “I’ll go get help,” said Costa, already on his feet and moving. “I’ll go in my car.”

  Adam stood and put a hand on Costa’s back. “Drive fast. He needs an ambulance.”

  Or maybe a hearse. Jesus, Kevin.

  Costa rushed for the rickety wooden doors that led into a small foyer at the front of the building where the toilets were, along with another pair of double doors that were pinned open against the outside walls. Adam watched him disappear and then turned his focus back to Kevin. No signs of life. His chest wasn’t moving.

  Has he choked to death?

  Does that actually happen with grown adults?

  “Oh, Lord,” said Patrick.

  “It’s so bloody dark in here,” said Betty. “Can’t you get the lights back on?”

  “The power’s out. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

  Adam pulled out his mobile and activated the torch app. “Everyone, light up your phones.”

  One by one, the group took out their devices. Betty didn’t know how to activate her torch, so Tasha helped her. Then they propped their phones on the chairs in a semi-circle, creating a spotlight around Kevin. It wasn’t perfect, but at least they could see each other.

  “Oh, Kevin,” said Patrick, hand over his mouth and shaking his head. “I always told you that you were eating yourself to death. Our bodies are such precious things. We can’t abuse them without repercussions.”

  John groaned. “All right, Patrick, let’s not blame the victim just yet. We don’t know what happened, do we?”

  Patrick looked at him like he was an idiot. “He choked to death. Isn’t that obvious? He wolfed down a plate of brownies and choked.”

  Adam frowned because that didn’t seem right. “I only saw Kevin eat a single brownie, and when he started coughing, he’d already finished it. How could he eat a brownie and choke ten minutes later?”

  “It was probably stuck in his throat the entire time,” said Patrick.

  John cleared his throat and rubbed at his forehead. “Like I said, we don’t know what happened. Maybe he had a heart attack. Maybe it was his diabetes.”

  Betty tutted. “Half the women at bingo have diabetes. You don’t just keel over and die. Kevin knew how to control his condition. The poor dear just dropped dead out of nowhere.”

  “We don’t know he’s dead,” said Tasha hopefully.

  “Yes, we do,” said Betty. “He’s gone. Look at him.”

  It surprised Adam to notice that Betty’s eyes were glistening. Perhaps she’s not the bitter old bag I had her pegged as. “Costa’s gone to get help,” he said, trying to provide comfort. “This time of night, he should make it to the hospital in less than twenty minutes.”

  “If he has a brain,” said John, “he’ll stop as soon as his phone has a signal and call an ambulance.”

  Adam groaned. “I didn’t think of that. I hope it occurs to him.”

  Why didn’t it occur to me? Stress of the situation?

  Yeah, I feel pretty damn stressed.

  “Costa’s a bright boy,” said Patrick. “He’ll bring help.”

  More thunder boomed.

  An omen?

  The lights flickered, but only for a second, enough to highlight everyone’s grim expression. Then the darkness returned, broken only by the torchlight from their phones. The rain beating at the windows sounded like a furious crowd trying to get in. The night had descended into horror, and Adam wondered if he would awake soon, screaming and throwing off the covers from his empty bed. But that would mean he would’ve had to have gone to sleep, which was something he rarely managed. In his dreams, his family were still alive, and every time he woke up, he lost them all over again.

  Adam shivered and pulled his jacket tighter.

  The double doors flew open, making everyone yelp. The light of the phones didn’t reach the entryway, which meant it was still bathed in shadow. The moon outside cast only enough light to reveal the silhouette of a man staggering towards them and moaning like a zombie.

  Jesus Christ. What the hell is happening? Adam’s hand trembled as he reached for his phone on the nearby chair. He swivelled it around, pointing the torch at the thing shambling towards them.

  Betty gasped. “Sodding hell!”

  Costa staggered towards them, bleeding and clutching his side. “Help me,” he pleaded. “Please, there’s something out there!”

  Everyone began talking at once, but Adam fixated on those flimsy wooden doors now hanging wide open. Outside, thick sheets of rain sliced through the darkness and assaulted the tarmac like machine-gun fire. A white face stared back at him from the car park. It had no expression.

  Adam rushed forward and grabbed the two doors. Before he slammed them, he took one last look at the rain-drenched night – and saw
nothing. Once again he questioned whether he’d imagined seeing a bright white face staring in at him from the car park. This time he was less unsure, and he immediately felt better once the doors were closed again.

  Whatever is out there can stay out there.

  And what exactly do I think is out there?

  He turned back to the others. “Will someone please tell me what is happening, because I think I’m going insane.”

  “Costa’s been stabbed,” said Tasha matter-of-factly, as if it didn’t particularly surprise her. Costa was slumped in a chair and she was checking him over, rolling up his sleeves and pulling at his clothes. The blood seemed to come from his left arm.

  Betty stood nearby with her arms folded, seemingly irritated, but the cracks were showing. Her left hand was trembling as it cupped her elbow, making that giant ruby ring shake. “What d’you mean, he’s been stabbed? Don’t talk nonsense.”

  “Oh, Lord,” said Patrick. “Has he really been stabbed?”

  Adam moved in front of Costa and performed a cursory inspection. A deep, bloody gash ran along his forearm that might very well have been a stab wound. “You said someone is out there?”

  “No,” said Tasha. “He said something is out there.”

  Adam rolled his eyes and ignored the comment. As freaked out as he was, he wasn’t ready to believe in ghouls and ghosts. “Costa, tell us what happened.”

  Costa shook his head over and over with a far-off stare. His olive skin had turned decidedly paler. “I-I don’t know. I was heading for my car and something j-just leapt out at me. It had this smooth white face, like a… like one of those dummies you get in a clothes shop.”

  Adam flinched. That’s exactly what I saw.

  “A mannequin?” said John, raising an eyebrow as if he had never heard such absurdity.

  “Bloody nonsense,” said Betty. “I don’t appreciate it one bit. What game is this?”

  Adam stared at Kevin. The big man was almost certainly dead by now, which meant he’d died right in front of them. Gone in a matter of minutes. “I don’t think this is a game, Betty. Kevin’s dead. Costa’s hurt.”

  Attacked by some unnatural creature outside.