Page 30 of Beyond the Darkness (Basic Instincts #3)

A Matter of Survival

The second killer’s breath rasped behind the plastic mask, and it sounded so much worse than it ever had in the movie.

Hudson grabbed their wrist as the knife came closer to his chest. Baby Face clamped on with both hands, with the benefit of having their weight above him.

The knife inched closer and closer. In a film, this was the moment the director would call cut, and Hudson would be replaced by a special effects prop.

Not this time. That deadly blade was destined for his flesh.

He gasped and twisted, trying to wriggle free.

Those eyes bore into him, emitting pure evil.

There was a sudden, dull sound and the force above him relaxed.

He glanced beyond the Baby Face mask. It was Luke.

Hudson realised he had a wine bottle. Luke swung again and the bottle struck the back of his attacker’s head.

Hudson took advantage, yanking their wrist to the side, diverting the angle of the knife.

Undeterred, the first killer raised the axe, but Luke was too fast for them. He swung the wine bottle like a cricket bat against their head. There was another dull sound as it smacked against the mask and the figure staggered backwards. Amazingly, the bottle didn’t break.

Above Hudson, the second attacker had regained their strength.

A lithe body struggled against Hudson’s, forcing a knee into his groin as they wrangled for control of the knife.

He yelled in pain but refused to relax his grip.

This was no superhuman killer from the film.

It was a very real person—crazed and hellbent, but vulnerable just the same.

Luke smacked them on the head with the bottle again.

Still, it did not break, but there was a cracking sound, whether it was bone or glass he didn’t know.

The killer might have been dazed but they did not weaken for a second.

Another knee into Hudson’s groin and pain boomed all through his body.

For a few moments, his head swam, his vison blurred.

If he lost consciousness, he would be dead.

He was aware of the blurred flash of a blade, scything through the air towards him.

Then a sudden, hot wet eruption over his face and neck.

He heard a dreadful, choking sound. As the pain in his groin eased and his sight became clearer, the horrific realisation of what was happening sank in.

The broken neck of the wine bottle protruded from the throat of his attacker—blood spurted from the wound in rapid shots.

Hudson screamed and struggled out from under them. The tiles were slippery with blood and wine.

Luke reached for him, pulling him away, and the figure in the Baby Face mask rolled onto their back. Their body jerked in a series of uncontrollable spasms, coating the kitchen cabinets with a fresh paint of blood. Trembling hands grasped hopelessly at the broken bottle.

Hudson scrambled to his feet, gripping the counter, searching for the other assailant, the one who’d had the axe. They had vanished.

“Are you all right?” Luke asked, gripping his shoulders. “Did they get you?”

Hudson realised he was covered in blood. “No.” He ran his hand across his wet chest. There were no injuries. “The blood isn’t mine.”

They looked at the figure on the floor. The horrific shuddering of the body had ceased. All that remained was a still heap, the blue overalls soaked in blood, a red pool widening on the floor around them.

“Where did the other one go?” he asked.

“Back through the front.”

“Still in the house?”

“I don’t know,” Luke said. “They just ran that way.”

Hudson looked at the knife, still held by the person on the floor.

They needed to arm themselves but there was no way he wanted to touch that.

He tore open one drawer after another, at last finding Luke’s stash of kitchen knives.

He pulled out the biggest two. When he turned around, Luke was crouching over the still figure.

“What are you doing?” Hudson gasped.

“I want to know who it is.”

“We should wait for the police?”

“Fuck that. There’s no sign of them yet. I want to know who the hell is behind this.”

Hudson knew it was wrong to touch the body—Luke might already be held responsible for their death, and the less he had to do with the corpse the better it would be for him, but Hudson was also possessed with a deep hatred and a desire for the truth.

Luke gripped the bottom of the mask. Hudson didn’t stop him. He drew it upwards over the face.

Recognition was instant.

Amber’s head lolled to one side. Her mouth was slack, blood drooling down her chin. Her eyes were lifeless pools.

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Luke muttered.

Hudson shook his head. Amber, a cold-blooded killer. It made no sense. “Why?”

Luke stood up, his eyes hardening as he took one of the knives out of Hudson’s hand. “That’s what we need to find out.”

“No. We need to get away from here. Wait for the police.”

“They’ll come to the front.” Luke gestured to the open back door. “Let’s get out that way and go around the side. First sign of Corman—let the bastard have it. Don’t hesitate. We’ll worry about the consequences later. It’s a matter of survival first.”

Hudson couldn’t tear his gaze away from Amber as he stepped over her body. His mind was reeling, trying to make sense of the discovery.

“The bastards must have stolen my keys one day during rehearsals,” Luke said. “Had them copied and put them back in my bag before I noticed they were gone. They’ve had the damn thing planned for weeks.”

There was enough light from the kitchen window and open door to see the rear garden and the path that ran down the side of the house.

Hudson scoured the deep shadows beyond, looking into the cover afforded by the well-established shrubs and trees.

They hesitated, listening. There was nothing but the breeze stirring the branches, and the more distant sound of the sea.

Luke tugged his sleeve, pulling him towards the path.

They progressed slowly, listening all the time for Corman, if it was him behind the other Baby Face mask.

Jesus, what kind of sick mind identifies with that kind of fucked-up character?

The kind who had murdered Julian to recreate one of the film’s key scenes.

Only that hadn’t been enough. No, they’d had to go further.

Just like the movie, they’d needed to increase the body count to get their kicks.

Evil bastards.

They reached the front of the house.

Where were the cops? How long did it take to respond to a murder call?

The security lights were still on, illuminating the entire front drive.

Rav’s body lay undisturbed in the broad pool of blood.

“They killed him?” Luke whispered.

“He didn’t have a chance. They jumped him as soon as we arrived.”

Hudson looked all around for signs of the killer. Just like his movie idol, this Baby Face was a master of concealment, until the moment came to strike. When he’d attacked Rav, he’d come from the undergrowth along the side of the property. Was he hiding there now?

“Is that Rav’s car?” Luke asked.

“Yes.”

“Keys?”

With dismay, Hudson pointed to the body. “He had them on him when we got out.”

Luke spun his head in either direction, tightening the grip on the knife. “Okay.” He bit his lip. “If we get his keys, we can lock ourselves in the car until the cops arrive.”

“Or get the fuck away from here.”

“Even better,” Luke said.

They approached slowly. Hudson stayed alert, trying to look everywhere at once.

The front door of the house was open. Shit.

It had been closed earlier. He checked the broken living room window.

There was nothing but darkness within. Corman could be hiding in there too. He could come at them from anywhere.

Every shadow seemed to contain danger. Every rustle of the leaves made him edgy. Cold sweat trickled down his spine. He glanced at Luke, who appeared just as tense, but showed a steely determination to survive.

As they moved forward, they stepped into the pool of blood that surrounded Rav’s body. Luke was not deterred. His courage strengthened Hudson’s resolve too. They were going to get through this. Get out of here and make sure Corman paid for everything he and Amber had done.

Luke stood confidently, feet apart, the knife held steadily in front of him. “Get the keys,” he said. “I’ll cover you.”

Hudson didn’t hesitate. He squatted over Rav’s body and tried not to look at the brutal mess that was his head.

Rav was lying face down, his arms splayed beside him.

Hudson couldn’t remember what he’d done with the keys when they got out of the car.

Had he kept hold of them? Put them in his pocket?

He checked his hands first. The right was open, palm facing upwards, empty. The left hand was clenched into a fist.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, taking hold of his hand. Rav’s skin was still warm. “I’ll get the bastard who did this to you. I’ll make them pay.”

Carefully, he unfurled Rav’s stiff, bloodied fingers. There was no car key.

“They must be in his pocket,” he told Luke.

“Keep looking. I’ve got you.”

Fighting against his natural squeamishness, Hudson put his hands beneath Rav’s hips, squirming to feel his pelvis and thighs, searching for the sharpness of a key.

There was something hard in the left pocket.

He pulled his hand back, feeling for the opening of the pocket, sliding inside.

What he pulled out was a phone. From the right side, he produced Rav’s wallet.

He put them both to the side and slid his hands back into the pockets.

“I can’t find the key,” he said in frustration, still searching, going deeper.

Suddenly, he was caught in the glare of headlights, dazzled by the full beam.

He turned his head, screwing up his eyes as the engine roared.

He knew instantly that Corman had the key and was behind the wheel of Rav’s car.

The noise was deafening. The glare of light became even harsher as it came towards him, the dazzle painful.

His hands were stuck beneath Rav, trapped in his pockets.

The car bore down on him.

He heard Luke scream, then his hands were on his waist, pulling him upwards.

For a second, Rav’s full weight came with him. Hudson struggled, wriggling, finally pulling free. By the time he got to his feet, it was too late. He braced for impact.

He had no sense of himself in the next few moments. A sudden force. Then flying through space, rolling. A rush of something passing beneath him.

As he struck the ground and his whole body jarred with pain, his ears were filled with the grinding of metal.

As he lay on the ground, unable to move, he knew what had happened. Corman had crashed into the back of Luke’s stationary car. He opened his eyes, blinking to find some focus. It was all a blur.

His vision slowly returned. And with it, a sinister silhouette against the haze of the wreckage. Corman. Each step forward was staggered, but he held the axe with menacing confidence. Hudson tried to move, but pain rooted him to the ground. He couldn’t even raise a hand.

Corman’s face came into focus. The Baby Face mask hung on a string around his neck.

His face was bloody, one eye closed, but his expression was filled with cold determination.

In that moment, it seemed like Corman no longer existed.

He’d been taken over by the Baby Face persona and was living out his twisted dream.

About to make a long-held fantasy come true.

He straddled Hudson’s waist, licked his swollen lips, and raised the axe.

Hudson prepared for the inevitable.

As Corman’s axe began its last, deadly descent, a figure loomed behind him. Luke, battered but determined, raised something in both hands. He swung hard. Hudson heard the impact and a smashing of ceramic as it exploded on Corman’s head.

The force of the blow swept Corman sideways, knocking him off his feet.

The axe clattered to the ground, missing Hudson by inches.

Corman was on his knees, rising to come at him again. Then Luke was there, smashing into him with fast-moving fists. Luke roared with rage and anger as his jabbed the killer again and again.

Hudson’s focus began to waver. The lights, the sounds began to blur.

In the distance, what sounded like a police siren.

Could be a TV, he thought fuzzily.

And then the dizziness overwhelmed him before he fell down into darkness.