Warhol's Prophecy

109

IT WAS ALL Hailey could do not to vomit.

Her stomach contracted violently as Walker stepped towards her, holding each of the heads by its hair, pushing them towards her.

Caroline Hacket’s entire body was shaking. If not for the nylon restraints, she would have fallen to the floor.

She stared in horror at the heads, tears pouring down her cheeks.

Hailey tried to look away, to tear her gaze from the monstrous sight before her.

The blood on the severed heads had congealed black in places – in the deep wounds on Sandy Bennett’s face.

One of David Layton’s eyes had been sliced in two by a particularly savage cut. Part of its eyelid was hanging like a tendril.

The other eye was wide open. It fixed her with a blank stare, the soft orb already close to liquescing.

God alone knew how long these heads had been decomposing in that antique trunk.

‘This woman almost destroyed your marriage,’ said Walker, holding up Sandy Bennett’s head. ‘She almost destroyed you – that’s what you told me.’

Hailey screwed her eyes tight shut until stars danced behind the lids.

‘And this man, her brother,’ Walker continued, ‘he was scum.’

‘How did you know he was her brother?’ Hailey blurted.

‘I followed him for a couple of days. I watched him. I even spoke to him once. I saw him with her. With others he knew.’ Walker shook his head. ‘He wasn’t a very nice man, Hailey.’

He dropped the heads onto the floor, where they landed with a thud.

‘You didn’t have to kill them,’ Hailey whispered.

‘You said you would have killed whoever it was who attacked Rob,’ he reminded her.

He walked across to where Caroline sat motionless, her face drained of colour, her eyes riveted to the severed heads.

Hailey glanced at her friend and saw the glazed stare. She guessed that Caroline had gone into shock.

Walker began massaging her shoulders gently.

‘And what now?’ Hailey wanted to know, watching his fingers working tenderly on her friend’s shoulders and neck.

He continued his gentle ministrations.

Caroline didn’t move.

‘I just want you to understand that I did this for you, Hailey,’ Walker said, looking at her. ‘I don’t expect you to thank me, but I wanted you to know.’

He stroked Caroline’s cheek with one index finger, brushed a tear away.

‘They betrayed you,’ he said. ‘And so did your friend.’

He turned Caroline’s head so that she was looking at him.

‘She tried to tempt me away from you, when she should have known that you were the only one I ever wanted.’

Walker placed one hand on either side of her face, and kissed Caroline lightly on the lips. The expression on his face barely changed.

It was the power in his grip.

He suddenly clamped his hands hard around Caroline’s head, one cupping her chin, the other gripping the back of her head. He twisted savagely to one side.

Her neck broke with an audible crack.

This time Hailey couldn’t even scream. She merely began to sob uncontrollably.

Caroline’s head lolled uselessly onto her chest. Walker pushed at it with one index finger, seemingly amazed at how easily it moved on the shattered vertebrae. Like that of a puppet with its strings cut.

Hailey was still crying when Walker crossed to her and began undoing the ropes that held her.

He pulled her to her feet, her hands still tied behind her back.

She knew she was going to die.

She stood motionless.

An image of Becky flashed through her mind.

‘One more thing,’ he said, smiling.

He crossed to the large canvas at the end of the room and pulled the sheet off.

Hailey looked at it.

It was all there. Like some obscene collage. But completed with consummate skill.

She recognized the figures.

Herself, Rob and Becky.

Walker, Sandy Bennett, David Layton, Caroline.

There were others too.

She didn’t recognize the other faces. They had been painted with their features spattered by blood, mouths open in silent screams of agony.

‘It’s finished at last,’ he said proudly. He held her by the shoulders, leaning close to her ear. ‘Come on, we’ve got to go.’

‘Go where?’ she asked him.

Walker smiled.