Even Dogs in the Wild

Prologue

Eventually the passenger ejected the tape and tossed it on to the back seat.

‘That was the Associates,’ the driver complained.

‘Well they can go associate somewhere else. Singer sounds like his balls have been trapped in a vice.’

The driver thought about this for a moment, then smiled. ‘Remember we did that to… what was his name again?’

The passenger shrugged. ‘He owed the boss money — that’s what mattered.’

‘Wasn’t a lot of money, was it?’

‘How much further?’ The passenger peered through the windscreen.

‘Half a mile. These woods have seen some action, eh?’

The passenger made no comment. It was dark out there and they’d not encountered another car for the last five or so miles. Fife countryside, inland from the coast, the fields shorn and awaiting winter. A pig farm not too far away, one they’d used before.

‘What’s the plan?’ the driver asked.

‘Just the one shovel, so we toss to see who breaks sweat. Strip off his clothes, burn them later.’

‘He’s only wearing pants and a vest.’

‘No tattoos or rings that I saw. Nothing we need to cut off.’

‘This is us here.’ The driver stopped the car, got out and opened a gate. A churned track led into the forest. ‘Hope we don’t get stuck,’ he said, getting back in. Then, seeing the look on the other man’s face: ‘Joke.’

‘Better be.’

They drove slowly for a few hundred yards. ‘There’s a space here where I can turn,’ the driver said.

‘This’ll do, then.’

‘Recognise it?’

The passenger shook his head. ‘It’s been a while.’

‘I think there’s one buried somewhere in front of us, and another over to the left.’

‘Maybe try the other side of the track, in that case. Torch in the glove box?’

‘Fresh batteries, like you said.’

The passenger checked. ‘Right then.’

The two men got out and stood for the best part of a minute, their eyes adjusting to the gloom, ears alert for unusual sounds.

‘I’ll pick the spot,’ the passenger said, taking the torch with him as he headed off. The driver got a cigarette lit and opened the back door of the Mercedes. It was an old model, and the hinges creaked. He lifted the Associates cassette from the seat and slipped it into his jacket pocket, where it hit some coins. He’d be needing one of those for the heads-or-tails. Slamming the door shut, he moved to the boot and opened it. The body was wrapped in a plain blue bedsheet. Or it had been. The trip had loosened the makeshift shroud. Bare feet, pale skinny legs, ribcage visible. The driver rested the shovel against one of the tail lights, but it slid to the ground. Cursing, he bent over to retrieve it.

Which was when the corpse burst into life, emerging from sheet and boot both, almost vaulting the driver as its feet hit the ground. The driver gasped, the cigarette flying from his mouth. He had one hand on the shovel’s handle while he tried to haul himself upright with the other. The sheet was hanging over the lip of the boot, its occupant disappearing into the trees.

‘Paul!’ the driver yelled. ‘Paul!’

Torchlight preceded the man called Paul.

‘Hell’s going on, Dave?’ he shouted. The driver could only stretch out a shaking hand to point.

‘He’s done a runner!’

Paul scanned the empty boot. A hissing sound from between his gritted teeth.

‘After him then,’ he said in a growl. ‘Or it’ll be someone else’s turn to dig a hole for us.’

‘He came back from the dead,’ Dave said, voice trembling.

‘Then we kill him again,’ Paul stated, producing a knife from his inside pocket. ‘Even slower than before…’