Echoes in the Woods Georgina Scott (sites to read books for free .TXT) 📖

minutes in the shed before they emerged with a sports bag and then left. Jake knew he had to see what was in the shed but he couldn’t do it tonight, so he thought, he would leave it till weekend when he had more time.

The next couple of days zoomed by and Saturday soon arrived. Jake got up early and left the house and made his way to Kevin Stones’ house. He watched the front of the house for a while, the mum left with little Molly in tow. She put her in the back of the car and then placed plastic baskets in the boot. Jake thought to himself, she is off food shopping, which means she will be out of the house for a couple of hours minimum, but there was no sign of Kevin.

Jake watched them drive away, then left it for fifteen minutes, then decided to walk casually around the back of the house, climb the tree and watch the back of the house for any movement or sign of life; he waited for a further half hour then decided to approach the garden.

The bolt on the gate was stiff and wasn’t budging so Jake decided to climb over the gate which was quite sturdy. He approached the shed door which had a padlock, locking the door. He tried to look through the holes in the wood to see inside but it was too dark and the window on the side of the shed was whitewashed. “Fuck,” he said to himself. Jake didn’t hear the backdoor open but a flicker of sun light reflected off the back door and into his left eye. He slightly turned and saw Kevin fastly approaching him with a baseball bat in his right hand.

Jake quickly turned and bolted, jumping the fence then ran down the alleyway onto Westcolt Street. He heard Kevin shout, “You fucker, I’ll get you.” Jake ran past Kevin’s house, seeing Kevin from his left eye exiting his front garden and now hot on Jake’s heels, still holding the baseball bat. Jake turned and ran onto St Giles Road and past Justin McClure’s home. Kevin was still shouting out, “I’m gonna get ya, motherfucker,” he then threw the baseball bat which hit Jake in the middle of his spine, then fell to the side of the road. It knocked Jake a little bit off course nearly losing his footing but he managed to stay upright and carried on running down St Giles Road with Kevin still hot on his heels.

Jake saw the cornfield up ahead and managed to find extra energy to keep on running. He could hear Kevin starting to fatigue but still managing to keep up. Jake jumped into the corn crop and quickly darted to the right, whilst Kevin continued forward, tripped, and fell onto his front, head first into the corn crop. Jake quickly reacted by kicking Kevin in the bollocks, the sound of Kevin screaming went straight through Jakes body with a feeling of satisfaction and exhilaration; red mist took hold of him.

He jumped onto his back digging his knees into Kevin’s ribs, then grabbed his hair and the back of his head and forced it into the soil. Kevin, coughing and spitting, thrashed his arms and legs around and tried to move his body like a bucking bronco; Jake let go of Kevin’s head and grabbed his right arm, with Kevin shouting obscenities and threats, Jake bent Kevin’s arm up his back until he heard a loud crack and a sudden jolting movement of the joint as Kevin’s shoulder dislocated. An almighty scream came out of Kevin and with Jake laughing, he started to punch and kept punching Kevin in the side of his head and face.

Kevin’s body went limp and then slumped unconsciously underneath him. Jake’s breathing was heavy, he felt excitement with shivers going up and down his spine. He got off Kevin and stood over him. He said in a low gravelled voice, “Yeah, you really got me didn’t you, cunt!”

Jake didn’t go back to Kevin’s house after that so he laid low instead. He wasn’t sure if Kevin recognised him but got angry and chastised himself with ten lashings of his belt down his back for being too cocky and eager. Kevin was found by the farmer, who called an ambulance and then Kevin’s mother; he then spent a couple of days in a hospital for observation with his arm in a sling.

His mother had to take time off work. He was interviewed by the police and made up a cock and bull story which they accepted, not because they believed him but because it was too much time, effort and paperwork for anything else, so they just took a statement and left it at that.

***

Wilf Macintosh was a foster kid; this was his second family and he had been with them for nearly three years and so far, going okay. His maternal mother was murdered by his paternal father who injected her with heroin because she was going to leave and testify against him for the murder of an undercover police officer Michael Bray; Wilf was only two. His paternal father was serving sixty-two years for both murders and other crimes. He was deemed a risk to public safety and was beyond rehabilitation and placed in a maximum-security prison.

His grandparents on his mother’s side took on parental responsibility, but that was cut short and within three years they died from a car accident whilst travelling in Italy. Wilf was being looked after by friends at the time. His paternal father was then approached in prison; as he had no family to speak of, he signed the boy over to the state care system.

Wilf was placed almost immediately with his first foster family and stayed with them just over four years. The first six months were going okay, and he settled in well with the other three foster kids. They were all like little soldiers