Doubting Thomas

by Adam Grinter

  I stood immobile, unsure what to do for the best. If I called out it would alert not just John but the criminal as well. If I tried to cut John off, I would have to move quickly and that wasn’t a good idea in the circumstances. The indecision felt worse than the threat.

  I watched as John edged closer to his destination, powerless at the inexorable passing of inches and time.

  John stopped as he reached the counter and was stood next to the gunman. His hands were no longer in the air but were held out open palmed in front of himself in what looked to be a pleading gesture.

  “Are you OK?” John asked. They were the first distinct words I had heard since the scooter rider had crashed into the petrol station.

  The gunman hadn’t seen John until he had asked his question. He swung round so he was pointing the gun at John. My heartbeat increased, I needed to protect John. I had no way of doing that from where I was.

  The gun was centimetres from John’s nose, but he didn’t seem to notice. His whole focus was on the gunman rather than the killing machine pointing at his face.

  “Are you OK?” John repeated very calmly.

  There was a muffled noise from behind the crash helmet which could have been ‘I’m fine thanks, you?’ or ‘what the fuck are you talking about?’. From my distance away from them I couldn’t tell but the body language seemed to suggest it was probably the latter.

  The look on John’s face told me he couldn’t understand what had been said either.

  Slowly the gunman’s left hand rose to his face and pushed up the visor. I knew then John was in serious trouble. The gunman had exposed his face to a potential witness. Equally as worrying the gun never moved from its position.

  “You what?” The gunman barked aggressively.

  “I need to help you.” John replied calmly.

  The cashier took in the exchange. The look of terror on his face hadn’t changed with the gunman’s change of target.

  The gunman looked around incredulously. I understood his confusion. He hadn’t expected a confrontation. He thought he could point the gun and everyone would just fall in line. Then he’d be on his way with a couple of quid in his pocket to feed whatever addiction he had fallen into.

  Things were moving too fast for him but too slowly for me. I wanted this to be over and all of us to leave here safely. My priority was John, the gunman didn’t figure in my plan, at this point I just wanted him out of our lives.

  The gunman seemed to make up his mind on what needed to be done as his focus returned to John.

  “Do I look like I need your fucking help?” He spat the words in John’s face as he pulled the trigger.

  #

  Maria was working on instinct. She had no plan. She just knew she had to do something. She had to keep moving. She had to protect John. Thomas was good, Thomas was like her but two were better than one.

  She was halfway between the car and the door to the shop when the deafening noise reached her. She knew that noise. She’d heard that noise many times before in Venezuela. She dreaded that noise. A gun shot was unmistakeable.

  It stopped her where she was. It changed the situation. The gunman was prepared to use the gun. She looked at Thomas and the look of horror on his face told her someone was hurt. She noticed John was no longer stood next to him.

  She scanned the shop and saw the gunman turning on his heel and starting to move very quickly towards the door. The cashier looked as horrified as Thomas. She didn’t see John at all.

  #

  I heard the shot and it echoed and reverberated around the small space. It sounded as if the gunman had fired more than once.

  I saw the movement of the gunman and guessed he was now questioning his decision to fire. He would want to be as far away from the repercussions as possible. That assumption proved correct as he bolted for the door. I kept my eyes on him in case he decided to fire for a second time. I knew I couldn’t outrun a bullet but it couldn’t hurt to be prepared. I needn’t have worried, he was so completely focused on his escape he paid me no attention as he rushed past.

  I allowed him to go, knowing I had to focus on John. I turned and moved towards the counter picking up speed but feeling like I was wading through treacle in the confined space. I knew there was nothing that could be done for John, he had been shot in the face from centimetres away.

  I didn’t want to see the mess I was rushing towards, but I had to. I slowed to a stop and took in the scene in front of me. John was where he had been before the shot. Liquid dripped from his hair and formed a puddle at his motionless feet. I looked at the pool and was surprised to see it wasn’t the crimson shade of red I had expected. The brown liquid had bubbles in it which further confounded me. I looked up at John again and saw there was no visible injury to him. John blinked and gently shook his head. Droplets of liquid hit me in the face and chest. One droplet landed on my lip and instinctively I stuck out my tongue and licked it off. I recoiled automatically and braced for the tangy, coppery taste in my throat. Instead I was greeted by a slightly watery, slightly sweet taste.

  I looked at John again and realised he was moving when he really should have been dead. His hair was matted with a liquid I didn’t recognise but it definitely wasn’t blood. I looked behind him and saw the fridge full of drinks had its glass door shattered and lay in pieces on the ground. The bottles and cans of fizzy drinks displayed inside were burst and drizzling their sweet multi-coloured contents onto the floor, collecting with the liquid dripping from John’s head.

  “Wha… what… how?” I stammered.

  “I’m OK.” John replied quietly.

  “He shot him, he shot him.” The cashier babbled. I tried to block out his noise as I attempted to make sense of the scene in front of me.

  John had been shot point blank in the face and somehow the bullet had missed him but hit the fridge and stock directly behind him.

  The liquid dripping from John’s head and hair was the leftovers of the explosion of the soft drinks.

  Maria entered the shop at a run.

  “Where is he?” She asked in a panic.

  “He’s here, he’s OK.” I replied from the other side of the shelving unit.

  Maria’s face poked around the end of the aisle. She saw John and relief poured across her features.

  “He shot him.” The cashier repeated.

  All three of us ignored him. Maria joined us at the front of the shop. She took in the mess and the state of John, she looked at me both quizzically and with massive concern.

  I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t know what had happened. I didn’t know how the bullet had missed him. I couldn’t explain it so I didn’t even try.

  In the distance there was the haunting siren sound of an approaching police car.

  “He shot him.” The cashier said again.

  “What will you tell the police?” Maria asked.

  “I don’t know.” I responded. “I can’t explain it.”

  “Then don’t.” Maria reasoned. “Pay for the petrol and we go now. Is easier.”

  “OK.” I agreed readily not sure what else to say and desperately glad someone else was taking charge. I was happy to be led, I was stunned by what I had witnessed and was probably in shock. Maria had not actually seen it so just assumed the gunman had missed. I knew different.

  I threw fifty pounds in cash at the cashier and ushered John and Maria to the car.

  I hoped the cashier would have calmed down by the time the police arrived but deep down I knew he’d tell them everything.

  I started the car and hit the road as the first flashing lights appeared in my rear view mirror. I saw them pull into the petrol station forecourt before I looked back at the road ahead.

  Maria thought we’d had a lucky break. I knew our problems were only just starting.

  Chapter Twenty

  I was thankful we were travelling late at night and into the early hours. The traffic was light to non-existent and we made good time heading to London.

/>   The journey was spent mostly in silence. The events at the petrol station, the darkness outside and the general weariness of the three of us had taken its toll. Maria asked for a cup of coffee at the first service station we reached. I pulled in glad of the break however early in our travels.

  We all took the opportunity to stretch our legs. I didn’t venture far from the car but watched the other two wander towards the beckoning bright lights of the convenient concourse. I took big gulps of air and breathed in the heady scents of exhaust fumes and late-night greasy food. It smelled normal, it smelled good, it grounded me.

  I tried to put the incident out of my mind and concentrated on the drive. Maria and John dropped off just after midnight and so I travelled the rest of the way on my own.

  #

  We arrived at my house just before two in the morning. We stumbled the final yards to my front door in weary anticipation of a good night’s sleep. We needed to be up early so we could meet William at ten. I ignored the negatives and focused on the positives sleep would provide. I put John in my bed and Maria in the spare room, I retired to the couch.

  I was exhausted by the drive and all that had happened preceding it but was slightly wired because of them. As a consequence, sleep didn’t arrive immediately. I debated contacting William to tell him we would be late. But that would mean rummaging for my phone and then trying to compose a text. It all seemed too much of an effort.

  #

  I woke slightly stiff from where I’d slumped a couple of hours previously. I looked at the time, seven, I’d managed about four hours. That would have to do.

  I wandered into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Coffee, as is usual for me, was the first order of the day. I made three mugs and roused my house guests.

  We bumbled through our morning routines, in between mouthfuls of coffee and whatever breakfast morsels could be scrounged from my almost empty cupboards.

  Eight forty-five found us mostly awake and waiting for the tube that would take us to central London. We had to change lines at Earls Court so we made our way there almost on auto-pilot. I forged a path for us as we transferred to the Victoria line. We attracted some funny looks as we passed people. London could be cruel like that sometimes.

  We stood on the new platform and waited patiently for the next train. I noticed out of the corner of my eye a young couple whispering to each other while they tried to subtly glance in our direction. The male took out his phone and surreptitiously took a photo of us.

  Did we really looked that rough, I wondered.

  The tube arrived, we found three seats together, and allowed it to take us to our destination.

  “Have you noticed we are getting looks?” Maria whispered.

  “Yeah.” I replied. “Do we look that bad?” I joked.

  “Don’t think that.” Maria responded. “They are staring at John.”

  I looked around the carriage but didn’t notice anyone paying us any attention. I looked more carefully at John and didn’t see anything that made him stand out from anyone else. I couldn’t see why he would be attracting attention.

  “Why?” I asked not expecting an answer.

  “Don’t know.” Maria responded, predictably.

  We disembarked at Victoria and headed for the exit. I knew the layout of the station, so I strode through the crowds towards fresh air and daylight.

  I glanced at the people around me as I walked and confirmed John was attracting some funny looks as we went. Not everyone was paying us any attention but there were some noticeable double-takes as we crossed the crowded concourse.

  We emerged onto the street, I looked at the time again. We were early. We had time to indulge in a hot drink, at what I considered to be my coffee shop. I shepherded my companions inside and we eventually stood waiting for our order.

  As usual people were staring at their phones as they tried to kill the empty, waiting minutes. One man had his nose in his phone watching something and as he dragged his eyes away to retrieve his order, he caught sight of John. He stopped momentarily and did a double-take. He quickly tried to regain his composure, but the surprise and disbelief never left his features. He grabbed his take-away cup and scurried out of the door never taking his eyes off John as he left.

  My phone beeped in my pocket. I had received a message. I retrieved it and looked at the display. A text from Robert. I opened it and read it. He had kept it brief and terse just like his normal phone manner.

  Thomas, what were you doing in Manchester?

  How did he know I had been in Manchester?

  Why did he care?

  Always more questions than answers.

  I felt it would be better to phone him than try to explain in a text; so I looked at Maria and John, made my excuses, stepped slightly away from them and phoned him.

  He answered before the second ring as if he had been waiting for my call.

  “Thomas, my boy.” Robert bellowed as usual.

  “Robert.” I replied as a way of greeting.

  “What have you done?” Robert asked.

  I felt we’d had this conversation before.

  “What do you mean?” I responded innocently. I wanted to know what he knew before I volunteered anything.

  “I’ve seen the CCTV footage.” Robert explained.

  I was slower to understand than I should have been. “What footage?” I asked, my mind scrabbling for answers.

  “The petrol station armed robbery.” Robert clarified.

  “Oh, that CCTV footage.” My mind raced and I was trying to play for time.

  “Manchester CID contacted me this morning as a courtesy. They had your number plate on some forecourt footage at the same time as an armed robbery took place.”

  “Oh.” I’d reverted to my monosyllabic best.

  “They sent me the footage from inside the shop.”

  “OK.” Two syllables, better but not good.

  “What happened?” Robert asked.

  “Drove in to get petrol, masked man rushed in, pulled gun, fired shot, ran out. We paid and left. You know, the usual.” I was trying to make light of it in the hope he wouldn’t ask anything more about it. I wasn’t sure he would believe me. I still wasn’t sure I believed it myself.

  “Uh huh.” Robert reverted to two syllables. “So, the shooting?” He expanded.

  Maria had collected our order and was waggling a cardboard cup of coffee in my direction, attempting to get my attention. It was the excuse I needed.

  “Robert, really sorry. I’ve got to go. About to step into a meeting.” I hung up and strode over to Maria. She handed me the cup. I picked my words carefully to try to lessen the impact of the revelation.

  “It seems there’s CCTV footage of the robbery.” I told her.

  Maria didn’t seem phased by my statement.

  “That would explain funny looks.” She stated.

  “Yeah.” I agreed.

  We both looked at John who was happily sipping his drink and blindly unaware of the scrutiny about to befall him.

  “Let’s get him off the street.” I said.

  We moved to the door ushering John with us. I looked around the shop as we left. It was probably paranoia on my part, but it seemed every eye in the place followed us outside.

  We rushed down the crowded street and reached Westminster Cathedral. The large double doors were open and had never seemed so welcoming. We climbed the steps and headed towards the sanctuary this edifice offered.

  We almost made it when our entrance was blocked by a rope with a sign hanging from it. The sign proudly informed visitors the Cathedral was closed today for renovations.

  I knew nothing about renovations. William hadn’t said anything to me.

  I looked past the rope for some help.

  A shadow emerged from my left which brightened as he entered the light to become a man.

  “Ah. Thomas there you are. Come in. Come in.” William said.

  William lifted the rope and Maria, John and myself cro
uched underneath and entered the deserted church.

  I let my eyes accustom to the difference in the light from inside to out as William shut the double doors with a reverberating thud behind us.

  As my vision cleared, I could see the space wasn’t as empty as I had originally assumed. I could make out shapes at the front of the building, some sitting but one or two wandering aimlessly.

  “Come, come.” William beckoned as he walked in front of us down the centre aisle. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  2 John

  John had never been to London so was excited about seeing the lights and the sights. He had seen it many times on screen. London always seemed exotic, glamorous, cosmopolitan, and slightly dangerous. There was something special about it. His life, to him, was mundane and repetitive but fulfilling. However, London was not just a city but it was also something to aspire to.

  Thomas and Maria seemed nice when he met them. They talked to him, they were interested in him, they saw him.

  He was happy they were taking him with them. As Mother had told him, this was his new adventure.

  The petrol station had been strange. Mother had told him to talk to the robber and see if he could stop him from hurting anyone. They’d all walked out unhurt, so he felt he’d done a good job. Mother had told him how proud she was of him, so that helped. Thomas and Maria hadn’t said anything about it, which he thought was odd; but he didn’t have the self-confidence to bring it up.

  He’d managed to sleep on the journey South. He’d wanted to see the country flashing by. He wanted to take in the new sights as he passed them. Unfortunately, because of the lateness of the drive he couldn’t see anything out of the windows. Car lights didn’t hold his attention. Mother told him to sleep so he’d be fresh for the next day.

  Thomas’ flat was sparse but functional. John would have been happy to sleep on the couch. However, Thomas insisted he have a bed. John felt uncomfortable about kicking Thomas on to the sofa in his own house, but he was adamant he was happy; so John reluctantly complied.

  The following morning, he tried to blend into the background as Thomas and Maria prepared for the day to come. He allowed himself to be swept along by the momentum of movement.