Reckoning From Beyond - Chapter 2

DC Brockwell                                      Reckoning From Beyond





I've heard stories of people who have died and been resuscitated; many say they see a bright white light. That's not how it happens for me. It's pitch black even with my eyes wide open. I'm falling at great speed, but there's no wind. It's dream-like.

  I hit the ground hard and it winds me. I roll over a couple of times, trying to kick some air into my lungs.

  Finally I breathe in. I lie on my back, recovering with every breath, but I feel weak.

  'Get da tools and bags, man,' says Jamaican. 'We get dis done quick and we go home to our ladies.'

  I open my eyes to see my lifeless body next to me. It's the most surreal thing I've ever seen; my heart's beating faster and faster with every second. I can see a small hole on my forehead where the bullet went in. It must've been a small calibre as my head has remained in tact; a .44 or .45 would've taken my head off.

  My body's dressed in my dark blue suit and white shirt. I bought it from a tailor for a mint. My short dark hair is tousled and my eyes are open, staring lifelessly skyward. Sammy always said she loved my blue eyes; she said they contrasted well with my dark hair and tanned skin.

  Leather Jacket walks over carrying three axes and black plastic bags. Anger quickens as I realise what they're going to do to my corpse. I still don't know what I could've done; I think, desperately clutching at anything I can. I’ve done some bad things in my time, but none I think of are so bad someone would want me dead, let alone dismembered.

  Leather Jacket throws an axe gently to the Jamaican, I now know is Jamal.

  'You wanna do the honours, Jamal?'

  'Don't mind if a do,' says Jamal, standing over my body.

  I watch in despair as he raises the axe and powerfully brings it down on my neck; the blow doesn't sever my head, it just eats into half, flicking my head to the side. The second blow cuts it cleanly off and it rolls onto it's side, facing me.

  I'm too stunned to move as I feel weak.

  'Yo Jamal, what did this poor shmuck do to deserve this?' Leather jacket asks, taking an axe from Scar.

  'A don’t know, man,' replies Jamal. 'You know da drill, they don't tell, a don't ask.'

  Leather Jacket raises the axe and brings it down on my left shoulder, severing my arm.

  Jamal reaches into his jeans pocket, brings out a packet of Marlboro red and takes one out. He lights it, takes a long pull and blows a plume of smoke out, still holding the axe.

  'And we're just gonna leave him in bits here?'

  Scar swings at my left leg, but it doesn't come off. It takes him three attempts, while Dreadlocks lobs my right leg off in one. Only one arm remains attached to my torso.

  'Dat what da man want, dat what da man get,' says Jamal.

  His use of English is already getting on my nerves.

  'You know, there's nothing wrong with ending some words with s,' says Leather Jacket.

  I watch as Jamal smiles, bends down and picks up my left arm. He folds down three fingers, leaving the middle one raised. 'Hey, Mikey, fuck you,' he says, raising my arm.

  All three men laugh heartily.

  'Ya tink a wanna sound like ya white boys?'

  Dreadlocks laughs alongside Jamal. The two white men smile, but don't laugh.

  Jamal takes off my remaining arm with one blow, while a cigarette dangles out of his mouth.

  Leather Jacket, Mikey, gives a bin liner to each of his colleagues. He bends down and puts my left arm in it, then ties the bag in a knot. The others do the same with my severed appendages, leaving only my torso.

  'What do we do with this?' Mikey's looking down at my torso.

  'Da man 'as someting special in mind for dis,' says Jamal.

  I sit up weakly and watch as three of them, Mikey, Scar and Dreadlocks carry my torso to an old oak tree and prop it upright against the trunk. Jamal places the bag containing my head in front of the torso and my arms and legs either side. Someone would get a nasty surprise walking their dog tomorrow morning.

  'That's just sick,' says Mikey.

  'Dis is how da man want it,' replies Jamal. 'Come on, boys, let get da fuck outta 'ere.'

  The four walk off towards the car, leaving me here. I walk after them finally. I need to stay with them to find out who paid them to kill me. And when I do, there's going to be hell to pay, and I will have my satisfaction!