Sea Sick: A Horror Novel Part 18

Vicky had forgotten all about the stab wound patient by the following day. She was doing her rounds as normal when she saw the police officers. They were chatting with Dr Malone about something. After a few moments, one of the police officers separated from the group and headed in her direction. She made sure to stop him on his way.

"Anything I can help with, Officer?"

The man smiled, he was young and seemed friendly. "Yes, actually. I'm looking for one of your recovery rooms; room 7."

Vicky thought for a moment. "Okay, I'd be happy to take you there. Is it to do with the stabbing?"

The officer looked at her with an eyebrow raised. "Have you had any dealings with the patient?"

Vicky shrugged. "He's been unconscious since he arrived, but he's stable. Came in with a stab wound late last night."

The two of them began walking, with Vicky leading the way. The Officer had more questions. "Do you know what belongings were found on his person?"

Vicky nodded. She had processed the patient's possessions herself. "There was a wallet. A photograph of a girl, and a necklace, I think."

The officer nodded knowingly, but didn't say anything. They reached room 7 and Vicky went to open the door.

The officer grabbed her arm. "No need." He peered in through the gla.s.s, as if to verify the patient inside. Then he took a plastic chair from a nearby reception desk and placed it beside the room's door. He sat down on it.

Vicky was confused. "What? You're just going to sit here?"

The officer nodded and smiled. He offered out his hand. "My name's Tom. I'm going to be here until Mr Moot wakes up."

Vicky knew the only reason a police officer would be posted outside a patient's door was if that patient was...

"He's dangerous. What has he done?"

"I'm afraid I can't go into that."

Vicky sighed and looked the officer in the eyes. "This is my ward. It's my job to look after him. If this guy is dangerous then I have a right to know about it."

Tom shifted in his seat.

"Look," Vicky told him. "I'm bound by the same confidentiality that you are. Whatever you tell me goes no further, but at least I'll know what I'm dealing with."

Tom seemed to think about it for a while and then finally let his shoulders slump with a sigh. "Okay, but you tell no one. I mean it, not even your family."

Vicky nodded.

"The guy inside this room is Nigel Moot, a guy we've suspected of some pretty horrible crimes. Until now we've never been able to get anything on him, but now..."

"Now what? What crimes?"

"For the last three years there has been an active serial killer in the UK. We're talking dozens and dozens of women and children murdered and, well you can imagine the rest. We suspect he's the country's most prolific serial killer ever after Harold Shipman."

Vicky felt sick. "My G.o.d! How do you know it's him?"

"Like I said, we've suspected him for a while but couldn't get anything to stick. We put his name on our alert list and when you admitted him last night he flagged on our radar. We sent someone by last night to check things out, and that's when we found what we needed."

Vicky shook her head. "What?"

"The photograph was of a recent victim and the necklace belonged to a woman murdered in a Paris suburb."

"Paris?"

The officer nodded. "The killings have occurred all over Europe and started about three years ago. Nigel Moot began a job as a long distance lorry driver around the same time. With the evidence we found on his possession, we were able to search his truck. In fact we already searched it during a previous investigation, but this time we managed to locate a secret hatch at the back of the pa.s.senger cabin. All I can describe it as is some sort of shrine."

"I don't want to hear anymore, do I?"

"Well, you were the one that insisted. We found body parts, fingers and toes, as well as personal belongings of dozens of victims. We have enough evidence to send this guy away for fifty lifetimes. Which is what makes him more dangerous than ever. The moment he wakes up, you tell me."

Vicky felt like she was floating out of her body. The mixture of shock, disgust, and horror in her mind made her whole body feel light. She needed to sit down.

"I'm going to take a short break. I need to digest this."

Tom nodded and seemed sympathetic. "No problem. Just remember that no one can know. The situation is volatile and we need to handle it with care if this guy is ever going to face his crimes."

Vicky floated off towards the staff lounge and was glad to see that it was empty. The last things she needed right now was people asking her if she was okay. She took a seat at one of the lunch tables and clasped her hands together as if in prayer. She rocked back and forth slightly as she contemplated what she'd just been told.

All those women. Children, too. It turns my stomach to think that I helped save the life of a murdering rapist last night. A sick, child-killing demon. I bet he'll be proud when he realises he's been caught. He'll probably end up as some sort of celebrity. Freddy Krueger in the flesh.

Vicky thought about her own daughter, Heather, and imagined the monster violating and killing her. She thought about all the poor mothers that had been given the news that their child had been ripped apart by a s.a.d.i.s.tic murder a predator of innocent flesh.

It's him who deserves to die. Why should he still breathe air when so many are gone because of him?

Vicky felt weary. She was only four hours into her ten hour shift, but it suddenly felt like she hadn't slept in months. Working in a hospital, Vicky was exposed to the horrors of society on a daily basis, but never before had she been in the presence of such pure, uninhibited evil.

I need to look into the monster's eyes. I need to see what's there.

Vicky didn't know what had possessed her, but she had a burning desire to go visit Nigel Moot. She leapt up from her chair and spun around. An orderly entered the room as she left it, but she was too consumed with her own thoughts to say h.e.l.lo.

Out in the corridor she saw that Tom was still sat diligently outside room 7. She managed to smile at him.

"You okay?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Little bit shocked, but I'm okay."

Tom glanced up at the window of the room behind him. "Are you going to be able to do your job, considering what you know?"

Vicky huffed. "Hey, I still have a duty of care, whatever he may have done. Just make sure you give this guy what he deserves."

"You can count on it."

Vicky entered room 7. Suddenly the room she had been in a hundred times felt cloying and oppressive. The room's occupant lay peacefully in the bed, almost angelic in his vulnerable state. Vicky looked down at the sleeping man's face and did something she had not expected to do.

She spat.

The sudden impact of her saliva on the man's cheek jolted him from his unconsciousness. He eyes snapped open and he looked around startled. Vicky's breath caught in her chest and she stumbled backwards.

Nigel Moot managed to focus his eyes and stared right at her. His eyelids fluttered for a moment and then he said, "She stabbed me. That f.u.c.king wh.o.r.e...she stabbed me!"

Vicky felt anger flush through her body. "That wh.o.r.e? Is that what you call all the women you rape and murder?"

Nigel's eyes went wide and he seemed to gather his senses more with each pa.s.sing second. He seemed panicked, but also, somewhere in his expression was a glimmer of smugness.

He's looking forward to the opportunity to gloat. He doesn't regret a thing.

"You're a monster," she said.

A slight grin found its way to Nigel's lips and he said, "You have no idea, sweetheart. Maybe when I'm feeling better I'll f.u.c.k you, too. Maybe even your daughter if you have one. I like 'em young."

Vicky grinned. She had no idea why, but she suddenly felt herself filled with glee. It was the power of the situation. She knew that, despite all of this monster's posturing, he had been beaten.

Until he gets his day in the sun and the Press start giving him all the page s.p.a.ce he's ever wanted. He's a loser right now in this hospital bed, but once he leaves...

Vicky stepped towards the man's bed. "I'm just going to check your drip. You've been out for almost twenty-four hours and haven't been able to imbibe liquids directly. You're on a morphine feed also. That's why you can't feel any pain. That's also the reason why it won't hurt when I euthanize you like a dog."

Nigel's eyes split wide. "What?"

He went to scream out, but Vicky shoved her hand over his mouth. In his weakened state he was unable to fight her off. With her free hand, Vicky turned the valve on the morphine release. She smiled as lethal amounts of the opiate flowed down the IV tube. She stared into Nigel's eyes as he began to fade, slipping into an embrace that would have felt exactly like sleep.

But the f.u.c.ker won't wake up this time.

Vicky made sure that the last words Nigel Moot heard were hers. She whispered into his ear. "When you get to h.e.l.l, it's going to be you that gets treated like a wh.o.r.e."

As soon as she was sure he was dead, Vicky left the hospital to go and tell her husband what she'd done.

CABIN MATES.

"I feel well rough, innit," said Conner, necking back his first beer of the morning. "We must have drunk a brewery last night, man."

Steve nodded his head, his eyes half closed. "Tell me about it! My head is banging."

"Well, you know what the best thing to do is," Mike said. He dug into his luggage and produced a full bottle of tequila. "Hair of the dog, baby!"

Conner grinned wide. "Sound. We need to go get Claire later, though. She'll probably be sunning herself by now."

Mike sucked his teeth. "I don't even know why you brought her along, man. We could be knee-deep in p.u.s.s.y by now."

Conner flicked the back of his hand against Mike's head making his friend wince. "She's my bird. You just hatin' 'cus you ain't got no fine b.i.t.c.h of your own."

Mike shrugged. "Maybe, but all I know is that me and Steve are players for the next two weeks while you got a girlfriend dragging you down."

Conner stood up from the sofa and went and opened the cabin's curtains. The morning sunlight hurt his eyes and he had to look away. "Way, I sees it. I have s.e.x on tap and a woman looking after me. You two probably won't even manage to get laid."

"We'll see about that," Steve protested. "Although, if I don't shake this cold, I'm gonna end up spending the week in bed."

Conner nodded. The burning in the back of his nose felt as if he had inhaled gla.s.s during the night. His skin tingled and released beads of sweat like a factory. All three of them had it; they all looked like s.h.i.t.

Steve probably stuck his d.i.c.k in something dodgy and pa.s.sed it on.

"I feel rank, too," said Mike. "But it's nothing a bottle of Mexico's finest won't sort out." He took a long drag from the bottle and let out a satisfied sigh. He pa.s.sed it to Steve.

Together, the three of them finished off the bottle in less than an hour.

Conner left Mike and Steve and arranged to meet them for hotdogs in twenty minutes. He needed to go find Claire to let her know. He'd checked her room and she wasn't there. The most likely place she would be was by the pool sunbathing.

All she thinks about is how she looks. She's got a man so why does she need to be so concerned with looking hot?

Sure enough, he found Claire sunbathing on the upper deck. What really p.i.s.sed Conner of was that she was lay, chatting with some older guy.

What the f.u.c.k is she playing at?

Conner stomped up the steps and marched towards his girlfriend and the stranger.

He tilted his head at the man suspiciously. "How you doing, mate?"

The man looked up at him and nodded. "Good, I was just chatting to your friend....?"

Claire introduced herself. "Claire."

"She's my bird, not my friend." Conner corrected, extending his hand to the man. "My name's Conner. Who the h.e.l.l are you?"

"I'm Jack." The man shook his hand hard, trying to intimidate.

I'll f.u.c.k you up if you ain't careful, blood.

"Jack was just telling me he's a police officer," Claire explained.

What the f.u.c.k! b.i.t.c.h, are you crazy?

Conner pulled his hand away and took a step back. He snorted back a wad of snot and moved his attention to Claire he was so mad with her, but that could come later. "Come on, babes," he said. They're about to start serving up hotdogs. The lads are already down there."

"I'm not really hungry."

Conner clicked his fingers at her. He was feeling too ill to put up with her s.h.i.t right now. "Get moving."

Claire got up reluctantly and seemed to flash an awkward glance over at her new friend. She reached down and pulled on a long t-shirt that covered her down to the knees. Then she shuffled into a pair of pink, jewelled flip flops.

Conner sneezed. Then sneezed again.

Claire put the back of her hand against his forehead. "Your cold still getting worse?"

"Yeah," Conner said, feeling like his eyes had swollen in his skull. "I'm starting to feel well rough, innit. Steve and Mike have got it too. We haven't stopped sneezing for the last hour. That's why I need you to stop lazing your fat a.s.s about, so you can look after me." He went in for a kiss but Claire dodged it.