Howard got up from off the mattress, and began to get dressed. It was a struggle, with one hand completely out of use, but eventually, Howard stood, fully clothed again. What the fuck do I do now? He thought to himself. I’ve had my party with Shark, salved my conscience with Mary, Lucas and Kay… do I go back out, into the early morning darkness, or just wait here… to die? Howard looked around the grubby bedroom, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Nah, fuck that… I’m not gonna die in this shit-hole. I’d rather it happen when I’m back outside, close to nature again. Howard Trenton walked across to the bedroom door, and unlocked it. He looked over at Shark for one last time.
“We had a deal, girl. It had to be done. I’m not sorry. I’m never sorry. I am what I am.” Said Howard, pulling the bedroom door open. He turned away from Shark, and then left the room. Howard walked down the stairs, then past the body of Ben Askew, who was now dead. “Fucking amateur.” He remarked, with arrogance, as he looked down at the old man. Howard was just about to step out of the front door, when he heard a familiar voice, from somewhere nearby… outside.
“He’s in there! He’s in there, with my friend!” Shouted the voice. It was Mary. Howard peeked his head outside. The young woman was about fifty yards away, together with three men. She was pointing back towards the farmhouse. “You’ve got to stop him! You’ve got to stop him!” Said Mary.
“The bitch! She’s managed to contact the coppers. Fucking bitch!” Cursed Howard, fleeing back into the farmhouse. “I should never have let her leave.” He seethed, feeling his hatred towards Mary rise once more. Howard carried on down the hallway, past the staircase, and through to a large kitchen. There was a back door near the corner of the room. Howard hurried over to it. The door was unlocked. He opened it up, and then exited the farmhouse, finding himself in a small backyard. Howard ran down the length of the yard, and then climbed over a small wooden fence at the bottom of it. He made his way through long, wild grass, moving in parallel with the side of the farmhouse. From up in the sky, came a dull, almost thudding sound, rapidly getting closer. Howard looked up. A bright light was approaching.
“Fucking helicopter.” He growled. Howard continued to move forward, until he found himself at another low, wooden fence. From here, he could see Mary again. There was a policeman stood next to her. Armed. The other two that she was with must be inside the farm, thought Howard. He crouched down, peering over the fence at Mary. I don’t see why I should keep my part of the deal now… you grassed me up, you fucking bitch… Howard took a deep breath; he’d made up his mind. He was going to try and take the policeman by surprise, and then snatch Mary Broderick.
Chapter Twenty Nine
Howard Trenton was just about to climb over the wooden fence, when the helicopter overhead swooped in low, before setting down on a large expanse of grass, just to the left of where Mary was standing with the policeman. Howard watched, in silence, as the policeman began escorting Mary towards the chopper.
“Shit… they’re going to lift her out of this fucking place.” Swore Howard, his plans thwarted once more. He watched, helplessly, as the policeman opened up the helicopter door, ushering Mary into the aircraft. Suddenly, from behind him, came a voice, low, gruff, familiar.
“Don’t move.” Ordered the voice. Howard spun around. It was Tom Grogan, armed, and standing no more than twenty feet away from the killer, his gun trained towards Howard. “Get up, slowly, and put your hands in the air, Howard.” Said the detective. Howard ignored Tom’s command. Behind him, he heard the sound of the helicopter’s rotor blades beginning to pick up speed, the chopper preparing for take off. “Did you hear me? Stand up… NOW!” Barked the detective. Tom moved a couple of steps towards Howard Trenton. Then, with lightning speed, Howard turned away from the detective, and smashed straight through the ageing wooden fence in front of him…
The policeman let off a volley of shots at the teenage serial killer, but all of them missed the target, who was sprinting towards the helicopter at a seemingly impossible speed. Tom Grogan shouted out a warning towards his colleague, who was backing away from the ascending helicopter, oblivious to Howard Trenton, who was coming up fast behind him.
“Look out! Behind you! Look out!” Shouted Tom Grogan, but the other man was unable to hear his warning, due to the loud thudding of the helicopter rotors. Howard Trenton reached the other police officer, charging him, like a small, skinny rhino, from behind. The policeman went flying forwards, onto the ground, face-first, completely taken by surprise. Howard knelt down and grabbed the policeman’s gun from him. He backed away from the fallen officer, and then aimed the weapon up at the helicopter as it slowly climbed into the sky. Howard fired the gun five times, each bullet hitting the undercarriage of the vehicle, two of them piercing the fuel tank. Thick aviation fuel began to leak from the two holes, and, for a moment, the helicopter dipped down, towards the ground, before climbing again. Howard threw the gun to the floor, and then lunged forward, his hand grabbing onto the helicopter’s skid. The chopper ascended, but this time with an enraged Howard Trenton hanging onto it…
Howard spun in a half-circle, gripping onto the skid of the helicopter as it climbed high into the air. He tried to raise his broken arm, but it was completely numb. A pain shot through his lower back, and Howard felt a fresh gush of warm blood spurt from the stab wound that he’d received the day before, courtesy of Alex Crennell. Howard tried again to raise his useless arm, but it was a waste of time. He screamed in frustration.
“Fucking work! Just fucking work!” Howard cried. How am I supposed to climb up and get into the cockpit with only one sodding arm? There was a second jolt of pain in his back, and for a split-second, Howard almost blacked out. He gripped harder onto the helicopter skid, breathing in deeply the air that rushed around him. Howard Trenton looked down, back towards the farmhouse, which was shrinking in size, the further that the helicopter drew away from it. Inside the aircraft, the pilot, unaware of Howard’s close proximity, pushed the helicopter hard, trying to gain enough height to clear the fast-approaching peak of Knighton Mountain. He turned to Mary, who was sat next to him, and smiled.
“Don’t know what’s the matter with this bloody thing tonight…. she can be a bit sluggish at times.” He said. Mary stared back at him, her eyes almost lifeless. “We’ll soon have you home, girl.” Continued the pilot. He looked ahead, as the slopes of Knighton Mountain drew closer. Come on, climb, you little bugger. The pilot worked the cyclic control of the chopper, and the helicopter continued both forwards and upwards. Then, suddenly, and rapidly, it began to lose height… and control.
The police helicopter began to judder violently, and dropped in height. The small metal space between two of the bullet holes in the fuel tank cracked open, forming one, much larger gap, that quickly began to jettison kerosene like a broken dam. Inside the chopper, the pilot struggled desperately with the controls, but it was all to no avail.
“Fuck. We’re going down.” He whispered. Realising that there was absolutel nothing he could do, the pilot turned to Mary Broderick. “Close your eyes.” He said to her. Mary didn’t react at all; a small portion of her consciousness realised what was about to happen, but somehow, it didn’t seem to matter any more. Mary ignored the pilot, and continued to stare out of the cockpit, towards the grey-black slopes of Knighton Mountain, that were approaching fast. Not far beneath Mary, Howard Trenton twisted and turned, hanging on to the helicopter skid for dear life. He made one, last, desperate attempt to move his broken arm. Nothing. Another pain hit him, this one coursing through the whole length of his body. Howard felt his lungs cease to function. He gasped for air, just as Alfie Whitehouse had done, a few weeks earlier, but there was nothing. Howard felt his heart hammer brutally against his chest, and then stop. This caused Howard to relinquish his grip on the helicopter skid. For a few short moments, his body plummetted down, towards the rocks that lay below him. By the time that Howard Trenton hit the craggy surface of Knighton Mountain, he was already dead. His body, completely broken, lay face down, in-between two large boulders. Howard stared down at the ground beneath him, one eye a dull, dirty yellow, the other pale blue. A few feet away, amongst a sparse clump of mountain grass, was a yellow contact-lens, that Howard had purchased online, just a few months earlier.