THE DEPRIVED...Chapter 4...Part 12.

A continuation of my book.

Tallboy began to rise, his eyes widening as his mouth opened to scream. The knife bit deep into him, puncturing through the ribcage and jerked upwards. The scream died in the thickset man’s throat as death took him in that instant and he fell back lifeless while Sam wrenched the knife free from the body. Men lay back on their bunks, not caring to get caught up in what went on, the men knowing that no good came from interfering. Death came cheaply in the prison.
“Quick, Sam.”
It was Black-Jack’s voice, urgent.
“Come and help me get the boy’s body!”
Sam did not stop to think but acted quickly, hurrying back to where Black-Jack stood leaning over Heathfield’s body.
“Carry him over to Tallboy’s bunk.” he ordered.
Sam grabbed the legs while Black-Jack hefted the top part and they took the body to Tallboy’s bunk.
“That’s it.” said Black-Jack. “Lay the boy on top of Tallboy and get his hand to hold the knife.”
Sam pressed the knife into Heathfield’s hand, pressing the fingers round it till they gripped in death. Black-Jack reached over and pulled Tallboy’s arms up and put the hands to the dead boy’s throat.
“That way it can look like they did for each other. Them policemen aint too healthy in looking too close just as long as it makes sense. And no-one saw a thing, did they?"
Here Black-Jack raised his voice for the benefit of the men who lay awake in their bunks. No-one answered. There was silence.
“Now let’s get to bed, Sam. We’re done for tonight.” said Black-Jack quietly before walking away.
Sam climbed up into his bunk and lay there. He was perfectly calm and felt strangely elated at having killed the man. It had been easy, so easy and there was no remorse. He knew inside that he would kill again. His mind dwelt on the Night-Girls who had betrayed his mother. Yes, one day if he ever got the chance he would kill them in revenge for his mother’s suffering. He would take their motherhood from them. He fell asleep and dreamed of death.

Sam had crept back up the stairs in the dark and opened the door to the attic room. He sat for a while on the bed, his mind returning to the time when as a young man in the prison house he had committed his first murder. He smiled, remembering how he had thought then how easy it was to kill. At that time it had been a man. What was his name? Tallboy! Yes, that was the man’s name! But now it was those Night-Girls who were the target and easy at that. Tonight’s target had been so easy, tempting her away and then gutting her and taking away her motherhood as he had promised himself so long ago. Sam wiped the blood from the knife with a handkerchief before stripping down and bundling up the bloodstained clothes. Going to the suitcase he drew out some clean clothes and dressed. Putting the knife back in his belt, he picked up the bundle of clothes and crept lightly down the stairs and out into the night. Making his way quickly through the unlit cobbled streets, Sam made his way to the Docks and through to the steps which led down to the waters of the River Thames where he threw the clothes out and stood watching as the clothes sank beneath the surface. Having satisfied himself that it was done Sam began to retrace his steps back to his lodging.
“Hallo sweetheart. Are you wanting company?”
Sam stopped in his tracks as the voice came out of the shadows.
“Are you lonely?”
The woman stepped out of the dark and smiled as she lifted her skirt suggestively. Had she seen him throw the clothes into the river? Had she followed him? Sam smiled at her, crowding her and pushing her back into the darkness as his hand reached down for his knife. There was no scream as he cut into her and took away her motherhood.

Sam woke up to the sound of policemen and guards who crowded into the bunk-room. Questions were raised as a Doctor examined the bodies of Tallboy and Heathfield. No-one knew anything or had seen anything. Everyone had been asleep. The Doctor, after a brief examination confirmed what Black-Jack had said, that each had killed the other in an act of passion.
“And a good thing too, getting rid of such filth!” added one of the guards.
Sam stood by his bunk and watched as the two bodies were carried out on stretchers. He felt nothing except a gladness at being able to revenge Heathfield’s death.
By the time he had climbed the scaffolding and started work he had forgotten the earlier happening and only realised now that men feared him. Sam worked happily at his task and had progressed to a pitch where he was now given a section of his own, where he could lay the blocks and stand back to admire his handiwork. He spent all his time studying what he could, often creeping into the large tent when there were no Officers about and stood looking at the drawings laid out on the table, understanding the sketches and projections of the scale models. He studied and learned the art of knowing face and end elevations. It seemed his whole mind revolved around learning and his learning put him at an advantage when he was put in charge of a build in the town, the building of a Library.
Straight away, he demanded that Black-Jack be allowed to work alongside him. In this way Sam worked with the Chief Engineer, setting out the foundations for the new build and directing the labourers as they dug the trenches then filled them to take the weight of the block-work.
In a strange way it appeared that now Sam was the one to teach Black-Jack how to understand the drawings. However, Black-Jack was more to block-laying as his trade and did not put much stop in learning about squiggly lines and the lettering.
“You stick to your job and I’ll stick to mine!” had laughed Black-Jack.
Along with the work came all sorts of bonuses and fringe benefits, like being allowed to wander freely around the building project and even walk through the town of Fremantle to gain constructive ideas which might be of value to the work in hand and to mix with the townsfolk, the merchants and those who had gained their tickets of leave through long and good service, those who had married a woman of similar ilk and settled into the life. He was treated quite well by the people even though he wore the prison garb. It might be that his demeanour and bearing gave mind to others that he was of some importance.
And it was while he wandered with drawings in his hand that he chanced upon what was to change his life. He had walked to where the Officers horses were being trained in a paddock close to the outskirts of town. Sam loved to watch as the men sat astride the horses, seeing as the horses would buck and jump as they tried to unsaddle the riders who, with thighs firmly clamped to the horses sides would cling on till the horses would give up trying and meekly stand with flared nostrils which streamed out breath. Leaning against the paddock rails, Sam watched as the rider brought out a large grey horse which stood meekly as the rider mounted and then suddenly burst into an exaggerated and high spirited bucking and prancing so the rider was thrown high into the air, to land heavily on the ground with the horse rising high on its back legs, its front hooves aiming to stamp down on the fallen man. Without thought Sam jumped over the paddock railings and ran towards the horse, catching its reigns and pulling with all his might till the horse came down heavily on all fours, just missing the fallen man and now turning his attention to Sam with teeth bared. Sam dodged the bite and quickly moved to the horse’s side and with a mighty jump he leapt up and sat astride the horse and clamped his thighs. For a time the horse stood quiet as if not understanding and then with wild eyes and a savage flare of nostrils the grey horse began to buck and scream out in anger as it tried to dislodge the rider on its back. Sam clung on, letting go the reigns and leaning over to grasp the horse’s mane with both hands and speaking to the horse all the time. Sam was not aware of the army officers who came running into the paddock and opened the gate, hurrying to lift and carry out the injured man. The horse had now stopped and stood as if spent with Sam feeling the shivering of its flanks. Relaxing now, Sam leaned forward to pat the horses neck and this action seemed to galvanise the horse into action once again as it ran wildly towards the gate with Sam hanging on to its mane and calling for the horse to stop. The horse ran with no intention of stopping its charging gallop, going straight out of the paddock through the open gate and knocking over the two men who tried to catch the free reigns. All Sam could do was to hang on for dear life, unable to let go off the horse’s mane as the horse thundered on, its run taking it further and further away from the town and seeming to have the energy of the devil until it mounted a hill and slowed to a walk before deciding to stop and become docile, starting to munch on the grass. Sam slid down from the horse, catching the reigns as he did so then stared back down the hill to see a group of soldiers come riding out of the town.