MONOLITH by Shaun Hutson Page B

hell would it solve? It wasn’t as if the two them were going to get back together again and give her a home to bring up her unwanted child in, was it? But most of all he was saddened by the news. His initial anger had given way to a deep and painful sadness. She had been such a bright girl all through her academic life. Her homework had always been done, she’d always had good marks and good reports but then she’d seemed to lose interest. She’d missed lessons. Sometimes not even gone into school at all. The school had called him and told him about this and he’d apologised and said he’d try to help but what the fuck could he do? He couldn’t hit her, could he? Couldn’t threaten her? If he was honest with himself he didn’t want to have to do that. He had just hoped that she’d realise how she was ruining her life and maybe come to her senses but now, with this fucking boyfriend around that wasn’t going to happen, was it? What the hell could he or anyone else do to help his daughter now? That sense of helplessness, of having failed her somehow hurt him more than anything.
    Reed exhaled deeply, aware that his mind was wandering, his concentration faltering and being at the controls of a complex piece of machinery were no place to lose concentration. He realised that as he saw the twin forks of the truck were about to scrape the wall of the underground car park.
    Reed cursed and tried to swing the vehicle to one side but the collision was unavoidable. The two forks hit the wall and scraped about an inch into the concrete. He rasped something furiously; his exhortations drowned out by the thumping of the pneumatic drill, stuck the truck in neutral and jumped down to inspect the damage he’d caused. No one nearby seemed to have seen the small collision and Reed advanced towards the wall he’d hit shaking his head, his face set in hard lines.
    What he saw next stopped him in his tracks.
     

SIXTEEN
     
    The twin forks of the truck had gouged two channels in the concrete wall about two inches deep, shaving off paint and scoring into the stonework but it wasn’t that which transfixed Reed as he drew closer.
    It was the twin streams of red fluid that were dribbling slowly from the rents.
    Surely he told himself, he hadn’t dug that far into the wall that he’d severed a water pipe. Was it rusty water he now saw spilling from the twin marks that disfigured that part of the wall before him? He slowed his pace again. The liquid that was running slowly down the wall ahead of him was deep red in colour, not the brownish-red hue of rust. And besides, he reasoned, all the pipes that had been installed in the building were brand new, they wouldn’t have rusted already.
    What the hell was that stuff? He reached the wall and studied the gashes in the concrete more closely, fascinated now by the red fluid that was still running freely from them. He reached out his fingers and touched the liquid wondering if it was red paint. He felt the consistency and it was smooth as he rubbed it between his fingers. There was a strange odour coming from it too. Something vaguely familiar he thought. He raised his red-stained fingers to his nose and sniffed lightly. He frowned, sure once more that whatever the fluid was there was something about it that he recognised.
    He was still considering that when the fork lift truck juddered forward.
    It rolled a foot or two then stopped abruptly, the noise of its engine obliterated by the thunderous racket being produced by the pneumatic drill. The sound filled the subterranean chamber, bouncing off the walls and eclipsing every other noise down there.
    Reed wiped the red fluid from his fingers onto his overalls wondering what to do. He ought to call someone he knew that. Damage had been done and it would have to be repaired. He shrugged, dismissing his own part in the mishap. It had been an accident pure and simple. He hadn’t meant to mark the wall had he? And it could have been much worse.