Free Rottenhouse by Ian Dyer

and Stevie screamed in pain as a few rib bones
cracked here and there but still the blows rained down. Blood began
to seep from under his clothes such was the ferocity of the hits
and the dull floor became a wash with it. But Simon noted, with
grim surprise, that the Chairman never hit him in the face, just
his arms, legs and body until there wasn’t an inch that was either
bloodied, covered in bruises or broken.
     
    4
     
    It was all over in less than five
minutes. The two men that had dragged Stevie over now took hold of
him again and led him out of the main door and out into the night.
Stevie wasn’t moaning, he wasn’t doing anything except
bleeding.
    The Chairman walked back to his table,
handing back the truncheon to the barman as he did, and continued
reading his paper. The barman wiped the weapon clean and placed it
under the counter and the club came to life again as if for the
last ten minutes they had been frozen in time.
    ‘ Another round is it?’
A voice asked from another part of the universe.
    ‘ Eh?’ Surprised that
his voice even worked his throat was so parched. His stomach hurt
as did his chest because he had been breathing so hard. He was
amazed to see that Mr Rowling was not in the least bit preoccupied
with what had just happened, no one was, they were all just
carrying on like nothing had happened.
    ‘ Another round is it?’
The voice said again, only this time a little louder, a little
slower.
    Simon turned toward the voice and saw
that the barman was patiently waiting for him to order. Simon
wanted to be sick but knew that he wouldn’t be able to do it.
    ‘ Yes please.’ He
managed and he lent against the counter; his head in his hands. He
had sobered up in a matter of minutes and his head heaved and span
as the hangover he was due to have in the morning suddenly started
to kick in.
    ‘ Not seen a beating
before?’ The barman asked as he set to pouring the
drinks.
    ‘ Only on
tele.’
    The barman laughed. ‘Aye, get used to
it after a while.’
    ‘ Used to it? If things
are that bad then why not call the police?’
    ‘ No police round here,
don’t need it. No, folks round here understand the way things are
done and if anyone doesn’t do as they are told or follow the rules
then they is punished. The Chairman sees to that.’
    ‘ Another one for him,
please.’
    ‘ Already on
it.’
    I bet you are.
    The barman passed the pint of Flogged
Daughter over to Simon. ‘Go give it him, rest will be ready when
you get back.’
    ‘ Great.’
    Simon took hold of the pint with a
shaky right hand. He walked over to the Chairman under the shadows
and placed the glass down onto the table. He didn’t doff his cap,
fake or otherwise, he hadn’t the strength to do it. Behind, he
could feel all eyes upon him, watching him, studying him, making
sure he didn’t screw this up and then the truncheon had to come out
to play again. He took a couple of steps back and admired the fact
that the Chairman didn’t even seem to be out of breath after such a
brutal exercise. Maybe admired was the wrong word, and Simon
realised that not to be breathing hard or panting like a knackered
old dog after dishing out such a hefty punishment was downright
scary so Simon turned tail and headed back to the bar.
    The Chairman took hold of the pint,
nodded toward Mr Rowling, who then raised his own glass and the two
men took a hearty swig in celebration of the justice that had just
been served.
     
    5
     
    Taking two trips, Simon handed the
drinks to the others and then sat back down into his chair. He felt
like he had been away for days, all that he had learned and knew
about these folks was now lost. He watched them talking about this
and that but paid no attention to the words that they were saying.
All he could think of was the beating that Stevie had taken. All he
could think of was watching the truncheon go up and down, up and
down and up and down again and again and again. That awful bone
cracking, skin tearing