screamed. ‘He’s in here !... He’s sitting in the corner… There! Look, you can see him ! Get help! Call for back-up!’
She held him in her arms, assuring him that it was just a nightmare and urging him to calm down. Eventually his breathing relaxed.
‘What was the dream about?’ Jen asked. She knew the answer and knew he’d lie.
‘I don’t remember,’ he whispered. ‘Something about...oh I don’t know, something stupid, I think.’
She stroked his golden curls, from his forehead to the base of his neck. ‘It’s happening more often, John-Paul.’
He sighed. ‘Yeah, I know. I can’t think why.’ John-Paul pushed himself up and kicked around for his slippers on the floor. ‘I’m going to get some water,’ he said, rubbing his eyes as he left the room. She listened to him descend the stairs.
The darkness unnerved John-Paul as he moved through the dining room towards the kitchen. Still badly shaken, his balance was poor. The intensity of the dream lingered in his mind. John-Paul backed up against the wall, in between two huge brass-framed paintings. It was a game! He’d been tricked into thinking he’d awoken from a dream, that it was just subconscious paranoia! He inched along. Zen was in here. Then laughter, vacant eyes and the hand searching for his throat... Desperately, he flicked the kitchen light switch and screamed when the hand touched his side.
‘John-Paul! You’re shaking!’
He turned and gripped Jen’s arms. ‘What do you fucking expect if you creep up on me like that?’ he whined, sweeping his eyes over the room. There was no one beneath the dining table, or crouching between the piano and the wall, or behind the geology display a few feet back from the window.
Jen squeezed his shoulders. ‘John-Paul, we need to talk about this.’
‘No we don’t.’ He climbed back up the stairs.
John-Paul pretended he was sleeping when Jen returned. He waited until she was back in bed and then opened his eyes. Everything was quiet, except the turmoil in his mind. He couldn’t discuss this with anyone. Only recently had he opened up to himself. He was not a timid man; he’d never avoided confrontation. He’d always stood up for himself, and had rarely felt physically intimidated. Until Zen.
The animal frightened him; that could no longer be denied. In truth, Zen haunted him both consciously and subconsciously. John-Paul had restrained men even bigger than Zen before, but Zen was far more dangerous than anyone he’d faced in the past. The madman’s physical strength was just a small part of him – Zen exuded total confidence in both his physical and mental abilities; there was no doubt or hesitancy in either. He was not restricted by a sense of right and wrong; he would devise his own form of justice and act upon it. There was no compassion, fear or regret. He was an intelligent man and composed enough to avoid detection. Anyone could be a target. Anyone could suffer...
Jen, John-Paul’s beautiful girlfriend, was the target. Which made John-Paul a target, because he must protect her. Jen was the most important person to him and he had to save her from this lunatic. Occasionally he’d urge himself to run away, reasoning that if he left her, then the threat of torture from Zen would cease. It disgusted him that he could be so afraid and selfish, and he’d dismissed these thoughts immediately. But they kept coming back.
Shortly after Zen’s return, John-Paul found him walking along a street near Jen’s house. He thought about calling it in, but felt certain he could take Zen on himself if he kicked off.
‘I’m arresting you for harassment,’ he said as he strode up to him.
Zen kept walking. ‘No you’re not.’
‘I’ve just done it. You want to be nicked for resisting too?’
John-Paul stopped and braced himself as Zen approached. Most slags backed down; few actually fought with police.
‘You’ve had it easy,’ Zen said.
John-Paul reached out for Zen’s
She held him in her arms, assuring him that it was just a nightmare and urging him to calm down. Eventually his breathing relaxed.
‘What was the dream about?’ Jen asked. She knew the answer and knew he’d lie.
‘I don’t remember,’ he whispered. ‘Something about...oh I don’t know, something stupid, I think.’
She stroked his golden curls, from his forehead to the base of his neck. ‘It’s happening more often, John-Paul.’
He sighed. ‘Yeah, I know. I can’t think why.’ John-Paul pushed himself up and kicked around for his slippers on the floor. ‘I’m going to get some water,’ he said, rubbing his eyes as he left the room. She listened to him descend the stairs.
The darkness unnerved John-Paul as he moved through the dining room towards the kitchen. Still badly shaken, his balance was poor. The intensity of the dream lingered in his mind. John-Paul backed up against the wall, in between two huge brass-framed paintings. It was a game! He’d been tricked into thinking he’d awoken from a dream, that it was just subconscious paranoia! He inched along. Zen was in here. Then laughter, vacant eyes and the hand searching for his throat... Desperately, he flicked the kitchen light switch and screamed when the hand touched his side.
‘John-Paul! You’re shaking!’
He turned and gripped Jen’s arms. ‘What do you fucking expect if you creep up on me like that?’ he whined, sweeping his eyes over the room. There was no one beneath the dining table, or crouching between the piano and the wall, or behind the geology display a few feet back from the window.
Jen squeezed his shoulders. ‘John-Paul, we need to talk about this.’
‘No we don’t.’ He climbed back up the stairs.
John-Paul pretended he was sleeping when Jen returned. He waited until she was back in bed and then opened his eyes. Everything was quiet, except the turmoil in his mind. He couldn’t discuss this with anyone. Only recently had he opened up to himself. He was not a timid man; he’d never avoided confrontation. He’d always stood up for himself, and had rarely felt physically intimidated. Until Zen.
The animal frightened him; that could no longer be denied. In truth, Zen haunted him both consciously and subconsciously. John-Paul had restrained men even bigger than Zen before, but Zen was far more dangerous than anyone he’d faced in the past. The madman’s physical strength was just a small part of him – Zen exuded total confidence in both his physical and mental abilities; there was no doubt or hesitancy in either. He was not restricted by a sense of right and wrong; he would devise his own form of justice and act upon it. There was no compassion, fear or regret. He was an intelligent man and composed enough to avoid detection. Anyone could be a target. Anyone could suffer...
Jen, John-Paul’s beautiful girlfriend, was the target. Which made John-Paul a target, because he must protect her. Jen was the most important person to him and he had to save her from this lunatic. Occasionally he’d urge himself to run away, reasoning that if he left her, then the threat of torture from Zen would cease. It disgusted him that he could be so afraid and selfish, and he’d dismissed these thoughts immediately. But they kept coming back.
Shortly after Zen’s return, John-Paul found him walking along a street near Jen’s house. He thought about calling it in, but felt certain he could take Zen on himself if he kicked off.
‘I’m arresting you for harassment,’ he said as he strode up to him.
Zen kept walking. ‘No you’re not.’
‘I’ve just done it. You want to be nicked for resisting too?’
John-Paul stopped and braced himself as Zen approached. Most slags backed down; few actually fought with police.
‘You’ve had it easy,’ Zen said.
John-Paul reached out for Zen’s
Similar Books
