True Grit - Book Five of the Connor True Series, Page 2
Andy Morris
spiked again as he saw, moments before it happened, the front door opening and Dale Tanner glaring down at him; his short receding gingery hair, his freckled face, the vicious scar under his left eye. The pent up violence seethed through him as he recognised Connor on his doorstep.
As Connor watched what was about to happen through his future door he saw the outcome of numerous possibilities play out before him. Just like the time Tanner chased him through Cavendish Woods, Connor saw the effects of dozens of split second decisions. He was able to see the exact moment that his actions would have the most desired effect.
The moment arrived and Connor stopped thinking and switched onto auto pilot. His hangover was all but gone and as his recent training took over.
He didn’t hear the impact of his kick on the front door, just as it was opening, but he felt the smack of the wood bouncing off Tanner’s face. Tanner took a step back shouting his surprise as Connor flowed inside like a vengeful spirit. Never taking his eyes off Tanner he took in the scene before him in less than a heartbeat: The narrow hallway opened out into an untidy kitchen where the heavy smell of onions and fried food wafted down. A skinny blonde woman stood at the sink. Connor recognised as the one that had lured him to that alleyway where Tanner had attacked him. She shrank away towards the backdoor at his sudden intrusion but she posed no threat.
Tanner’s face was twisted in surprise and fury but he didn’t hesitate, charging straight at Connor. Tanner was quick and would have easily bowled Connor over but Connor had seen him coming. Looking through the future door he knew what Tanner would do and saw the most effective response he could deliver. Connor let his foresight guide him and with practiced ease he caught Tanner’s fist and twisted it around while stepping backwards. Tanner was pulled off balance. Before he had chance to step forward and recover, Connor glided around, smashing the palm of his hand onto Tanner’s upturned elbow. The arm bent at an unusual angle with the sickeningly wet sound of cartilage separating and bone snapping.
Tanner cried out but he wasn’t finished. A born thug who had grown up with a daily dose of violence that was so deeply ingrained he was desensitised to all but the most disabling of injuries. Now someone had forced their way into his house and stoked his aggression he was unstoppable. He came at Connor again, trying to slam into him and crush him against the front door. But Connor was ready for him. Waiting until the last moment he slid sideways and flowed forward with his open hand delivering an upwards blow to Tanner’s chin. The impact from his hand snapped his head back with a whiplash force that almost knocked him over. Before he could react again Connor moved behind him with a liquid grace. His arm snaked around his thick neck and he squeezed. The side of his hand dug into his carotid artery in a strangle hold; cutting off the blood to his head. Tanner flailed his arms madly, no longer shouting and Connor adjusted his body position in the way Captain Blake had taught him and brought Tanner down to the cigarette burned carpet.
“What the hell! Get off me you piece of shit” Tanner rasped as his face turned several shades of purple.
“You like beating up 11 year old boys and young women?” Connor snarled and was surprised by the venom in his own voice. “You sent me a message a few weeks ago Dale. Now I’ve come back with a reply for you. You’ve made a mess of so many people’s lives so here’s a glimpse of the hell you created”. With that Connor took a mental hold on his doorway and changed it, closing it onto the future and opening it out into the centre of Dale Tanner’s deprived violent mind. Digging deep into his fears and memories, Connor summoned his mental anguish; momentarily reliving the chase through the woods; the beating in that alleyway; and the death of his grandmother and; the terrible sight of the demon. He syphoned his rolling fury, his fear, his grief, his unrestrained panic and focused it into a mental sledgehammer which he swung, smashing down a wall of Dale Tanner’s mind. The force of the mental assault ripped through the bully’s consciousness, tearing open a doorway from Tanner’s psyche and out into the Afterlife. For one brief moment Connor saw the cold desolate wasteland through Dale Tanner’s eyes and he quickly slammed his own doorway shut again.
“You’re dead! You’re so dead you little shit” Tanner was cursing. “Chelsea! Chelsea get him off me I’ll kill you. I swear you’re a dead man…” he paused and the look of confusion told Connor he had just noticed something had happened in those few silent moments.
“What have you done?” he demanded in a voice that sounded less self-assured as if some primal response was warning him of a threat that he could not yet see. The damage done to Tanner’s mind was so utterly viscous, so absolute that it was beyond repair. With the light from his living soul flooding out into the Afterlife Tanner would have an unrestricted view of that terrible which he would not be able to shut out. Before long something would notice window into his mind and the predators of the other world would come swarming, eager to feast upon a warm living soul.
Connor blinked the images clear, feeling somewhat unclean after touching the damaged mental core of this depraved individual. Tanner was still writhing on the floor, kicking out uselessly with his legs.
“If you’ve still got your sanity by morning and if you’re still alive, then by all means come and find me”. Connor spat getting to his feet.
“Stay away from this one” Connor called to the young woman standing at the far end of the kitchen hoping she would remain unnoticed.
“He’s no good” Connor said conversationally. “Trust me when I say Dale Tanner would have let you die of a heroin overdose in six month time”.
During the fight, Connor had seen another glimpse of the future where the young woman, Chelsea, had been laying on the floor of a grimy bedsit in the throes of a seizure while Tanner slipped out through the door leaving her to die alone in a pool of her own shit and vomit.
Connor didn’t look back as he left the house. The street was still empty and quiet save for that dog barking.
A part of Connor felt he should maybe give Dale Tanner some kind of warning about the Afterlife or explain to Chelsea what Tanner would experience so she could stay with him and comfort him as he witnessed the most unimaginable terror as his living soul is torn apart and devoured by a demon. What he had done to Tanner seemed harsh, but by the time Connor was at the end of the driveway he had dismissed the idea.
He was running late for the competition at the leisure centre but as he made his way back to his jeep he allowed himself to feel a small glimmer of hope; not only for today but for the future. A cold determination to survive had taken root in his core. His panic attacks would stop and he would no longer be afraid. He had been afraid for far too long and witnessed nightmares that would send most people insane. Connor would never be scared again and if anyone or anything tried to threaten him or anyone he cared about he would break them like he had broken Dale Tanner; beyond repair.
To be continued in Book six of the Connor True Series: Too Good to be True
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About Andy Morris
Andy has been writing short stories on and off for most of his life. He has had many stories published on various websites and in both print and electronic magazines. Andy currently lives near the south coast of England with his beautiful wife and two amazing kids.
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Discover Other Titles by Andy Morris
CONNOR TRUE SERIES
Book 1: Dreams Come True
Book 2: Strange But True
Book 3: True Calling
Book 4: Forever True
Book 5: True Grit
SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS
Black Cat Tales: Where the Spiders Dwell and Other Short Stories
Black Cat Tales: Black Anne and other Short Stories
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