Free The Night of the Mosquito by Max China Page A

he said, ‘Stop that crying. It’s all right, luv, it’s gonna get sorted.’
    ‘I need a doctor,’ Fleur whimpered.
    Brody glowered at Kotlas. ‘Get me the keys, you skinny fuck, or I swear I’ll finish the job and batter you with the stump, woman or no woman present.’
    ‘She needs treatment, Brody,’ Kotlas said.
    ‘Somebody get me the keys before I lose my fuckin’ rag.’
    The other two inmates exchanged glances and spread out. The doctor edged nearer to Edwards.
    The tallest inmate stepped forward. A guard’s baton slapped against his palm and he sneered, ‘Do as he says, skinny fuck.’
    Kotlas scooped up the screwdriver.
    ‘Don’t make me laugh. You’re a doctor,’ he scoffed. ‘There’s no way you’ll use that. Hippo-somebody’s oath. You ain’t allowed.’
    ‘Stop fuckin’ about. Do him,’ Brody yelled.
    ‘You’re right,’ Kotlas said, discarding the tool. ‘I don’t need it.’ He tilted his head at Brody. ‘Won’t be long and there’s only going to be three of you.’
    ‘Three? You mean four. I might be crazy, but I can add up,’ the other man said, inching closer.
    Kotlas snatched at the baton, grabbing it. Meeting resistance, he stepped in close, his other hand sliding up the man’s elbow. Raising the arm as if to pirouette, he ducked beneath it, and whipped the limb round in a short arc, causing his adversary’s feet to leave the ground, his body spinning in a compact somersault. He seized the weapon, and clubbed the man behind the ear as he hit the ground.
    ‘You wait till I get hold of you. I’ll tear you apart,’ Brody raged, resuming his murderous attack on Fisher.
     
    Brody’s shoulders hunched. He wrapped his hands around the cuff on Fisher’s wrist, and jamming his foot into the other man’s armpit, dropped into a half-crouch. Bending his arms at the elbows, he took up the slack on the chain and then with a roar, exploded upright. Fisher’s arm, already dislocated, stretched, brute force tearing sinew and skin. Brody ripped it off. Blood sprayed, spattering across the room. His mouth twisted in shock, Fisher howled agony and writhed on the ground.
    Freed from his encumbrance, Brody examined the dripping end of the disembodied arm. ‘Didn’t I fuckin’ tell you,’ he said, eyes bulging, triumphant. He loomed over his stricken victim. ‘What’s all that noise, you piece of shit?’ He stamped hard on Fisher’s anguished face, caving in flesh and bone. ‘You hear that, boys? Sounded like a fuckin’ dropped melon, didn’t it?’ In the deathly silence, Brody grinned, fascinated by the dark halo spreading around the dead man’s head.
    ‘Then there were three,’ Kotlas said.
    Brody glared from Kotlas to Edwards, and wielding the bloodied appendage, growled, ‘Like predictions, do you? Well, how about this?’ A curt nod to his cronies a cue to attack, he stormed forwards. ‘Then there was none.’
    ‘Wait!’ Kotlas held his hands up, making eye contact with the other two inmates. ‘All of you. What about poor Fleur? She’s in a bad way.’ Blood oozed from the table, pooling on the floor underneath. ‘Fisher’s done something to her insides.’
    ‘And now he’s dead,’ Brody tipped his head towards Fleur, who whimpered softly. ‘Even if she survives, her head’s fucked beyond help. Best thing, when we get done, is put her out of her misery.’
    ‘Please . . .’ she whispered.
    Kotlas’ gaze slipped over her mutilated body, appraising her injuries from a distance. Fisher and the others had bitten her breasts and thighs, semen evident on her face and in her hair. He lingered over her neatly trimmed pubic area before looking away. ‘If you did that, Brody, you’d be no better than they were.’
    Brody’s eyes flicked left and right and then bored into the psychiatrist. ‘Do you think I give a shit?’ He shifted his grip on the wrist of the severed arm. ‘Why do you think I’m in here, eh? Because I give a fuck about