The Shape Under The House

It was dark under the house, and the air was a close, dank fog that
made it hard to breath. He crawled a little further. His head bumped up
against something solid and he swore quietly. It must be the front
steps, he decided, which meant that he was nearly out. He lay on his
back and tried to work out what to do.

They were almost certainly waiting in the yard for him. They'd be
stupid if they weren't. The rear of the house backed on to vertical
cliff and he wasn't escaping that way. So they'd be waiting for him out
front. About the only advantage he had was that they'd be expecting him
to come out of the house, not to emerge from underneath it. A small
advantage to be sure, but an advantage.

The car was parked on the road outside the gate. He only had one
grenade left and decided to make an oblique approach from the corner of
the house rather than a full-out charge from here. Either way was
suicidal of course but that couldn't be helped. He wormed over to where
the corner pillar must be. Along the way he brushed against Otto's body
lying in the dirt. A momentary flit of humour crossed his face at the
irony. Otto had been obsessed by cleanliness and hygiene, and here he
was lying in a years worth of dust. It was very fitting. He was about
to move on when he had an idea. He rifled the dead man's pockets and
struck lucky. Grunting in satisfaction he pocketed his find and dragged
the corpse back over to the front steps. The air was clearing a little
now and he realised that it must be nearly dawn. Not much time at
all.

When he'd deposited the body by the steps he worked his way to the rear
porch where the spare petrol was stored. There was one can left. It
would have to be enough. Back with Otto he prised open the henchman's
jaws and rammed the spout of the can in the opening. It wasn't easy,
and he spilt as much as he got down the man's throat, but it would do.
Now for the really hard part. Taking the grenade he tied the end of
Otto's dental floss to the pin and shoved the incendiary to the back of
the dead man's mouth. He'd been worried that the grenade would be the
wrong size, but that proved unfounded. It fit perfectly. There was a
noticeable bulge in Otto's mouth, but the jaws would still clamp shut
so that was ok. Curiosity was a wonderful thing, as the men in the yard
would soon discover. Opening the jaws again he gently worked the pin
three quarters loose and pulled the dental floss taut. The sky was
getting lighter. Soon they'd be able to see the movement under the
house and he'd be done for. He was sweating now, fighting against the
urge to hurry. One slip and that would be it. Working slowly, almost
tenderly, he worked the floss into the spotless gap between Otto's
front teeth and closed the jaws once more before looping the thread
over the tooth itself in a slipnot. Done. All he had to do now was
break the spare floss. He grimaced. There was no other way though, and
the extra thread had to be got rid of or they'd smell a rat.
Shuddering, he knelt forward and placed his lips against the dead mans
in an obscene parody of lust. Lips clamped, he gently ground his teeth
against the protruding floss. Back and forward, back and forward. Even
under the threat of death his mind tried to rebel and he had to fight
the desire to wrench his lips away. The man tasted of stale tobacco. He
felt his gorge rise, kept on kissing. Finally the thread snapped and he
gently drew his head back from the body. He felt absurdly proud of his
self control.

Clamping Otto's jaws shut with one hand and keeping the head level with
the other, he used his knees to shove the body along until it lay right
on the edge of the open ground. Then softly, gently, he laid the head
down and melted back into the shadows. It was dawn now and he could
only have moments before they saw the shape under the house. He had to
hurry. He worked his way over to the corner pillar and took shelter
behind it. It wouldn't do for them to see the wrong shape under the
house after all. He looked out at the yard.

It was as he'd expected. Three men, all armed and all waiting
expectantly for Otto to drag him from the house. They were in for a
shock. Behind the men he could see his open gate and beyond that, like
an oasis in the desert, his car sat placidly. It must nearly be time,
he thought, it must be. Then it was.

Deke saw the shape first. He stiffened and covertly - he thought -
stared at the front steps through the corner of his eye. Feigning a
yawn he turned to Jack as if to pass some inane comment, and when his
back was to the steps he gestured urgently behind him.

Crouched by the pillar, he felt relieved. Deke's attempts to hide his
realisation from the steps meant that they didn't suspect the corner
pillar. Thank God for that.

Jack had caught on now. He strode nonchalantly away from the steps as
if stretching his legs after a long night's work, before strolling even
calmer still around the perimeter wall. At the same time, Deke feigned
an intense interest in one of the upper windows, staring as if he'd
spotted someone inside. Distraction Tactics 101 - very impressive. But
aimed at the wrong shape under the house.

Jack's feet suddenly appeared by the front steps and the body was
dragged clear of the overhang.

He held his breath. If it went off now it would only get Jack and he'd
still be done for. Stay in, he pleaded with the pin, stay in!

It did. There was silence for a moment longer, and then Jack yelled
over at the others.

"It's Otto! The bastard's got Otto!"

Deke and Fish ran over to the corpse, guns held at the ready. Now he
could see three pairs of feet gathered round Otto's corpse. He flexed
his leg muscles and prepared to run

"The bastard got Otto!"

"Look - .22 in the forehead. But I didn't hear anything!"

"Bastard must have a silencer!"

"So where is he now?"

"What's that in his mouth? What's the bastard done to him?"

In a sprinter's crouch now, he closed his eyes as the words drew
diagrams in his head. He could see a cut-away of Otto's skull. He saw
the grenade wedged in the throat, saw the thread running from the
half-drawn pin...

"He's put something in there. Sick Fuck. How could he do that to
Otto?"

... to the front teeth.....

"Whatever it is I'm getting it out. Sick fuck."

...the teeth rising as the mouth is opened...

"Then we're gonna go in there an make him pay."

... the floss pulling the pin that last millimetre...

"Sick FU-"

BOOM!

And he is up and running for the car before the echo has died down. As
he runs the pictures form in his head. The grenade, the petrol in the
stomach, the three men bending over the corpse. The wet thuds of body
parts hitting dirt. Then he is in the driver's seat and away. They'll
probably track him down again but he'll get out of that too. He always
does. And at least he is safe for now.