by Paul Jones
WE HAVE BEEN ALERTED TO YOUR PROBLEM. IF YOU REQUIRE OUR SERVICE PLEASE CONTACT THIS NUMBER?
Mrs Roberts drew her head back bemused at the message and what it could possibly mean. Was it referring to her lost pet, or did it have something to do with her trouble with the yobs? She shrugged helplessly and figured, what the heck, haven’t got anyone else to turn to, why not? So she went into the living room, picked up her cordless phone, and punched out the number.
That Saturday evening, because of the heat from the police, Mongoose and his gang kept well away from Mrs Roberts’s house. Instead, they were content just hang around the entrance to the housing estate, beneath the orange glow of the sodium streetlights. There they happily swigged on bottles of lager, and gloated at their victory over Mrs Roberts last night.
Mongoose, feeling like the exalted leader of the mafia, leant idly against the wooden perimeter fencing, and took another mouthful of lager. Just to amuse himself, he waited for one of his lesser gang members to move into range then spurted it out all over him. Insulted by the gesture, but not wanting to incur his leader’s wrath, the lad gamely chuckled along with the others. The next mouthful, Mongoose swallowed for himself, then he addressed his soldiers.
‘When the heat dies down a bit, we’ll chuck one of those silver dart rockets through her letterbox. But we’ll snap off the guidance stick so it will spin around throwing off sparks, and hopefully burn her house down.’
All of them snorted in delight.
‘How’s yer back?’ one impressionable member asked.
‘That’s nothing. I was just using that as an excuse,’ he sneered, putting his mouth back to the bottle, and secretly hiding the fact that he squealed like a rat when he got hit from the club. ‘Anyway that’s nothing compared to what I’m going to do to her and that mutt.’
Further up the road, a navy blue escort van headed towards the estate, and Mongoose alerted his gang. ‘Let’s pelt this van with bottles for daring to come on to our patch.’
Ready to do whatever their leader said, they concealed their bottles by their sides so the driver wouldn’t see what was coming. As soon as the van was in range, they all hurled their bottles at the van, one or two of them completely missed, but some smashed against the rim of the roof, sending shards of dark green glass everywhere. The van screeched to a halt, and the gang tried to scarper back into the estate, Mongoose and one of his soldiers bringing up the rear.
‘Got yer.’
Mongoose and pal ran straight into a human wall, two six foot slabs of meat with balaclavas. The two men literally carried the struggling lads over to the van, which now waited with the back doors wide open. The two prisoners yelled and writhed to try and get free, but they were slung into the back before they even knew it, then the two men got in with them. The doors were quickly slammed shut, and the van skidded off down the road.
Behind them at the entrance to the estate, one or two of the gang members dared to poke their heads out wondering what the hell was going on, and where had their leader been taken.
A couple of miles away under the dark canopy of night, five figures (three men and the two teenagers) stood in the middle of a farmer’s field. The two lads already stripped down to their waists, and hands tied behind their backs were forced to lie face down on the icy grass. Standing over them, one of the men held a long tapered piece of birch wood by his side. Thinking they were going to get raped, Mongoose turned his head in protest.
‘Let us go. We’ll do you for this, you better not touch us you queers.’
‘Queers?’ one of the men questioned. ‘What do you think this is, a gang bang?’
‘Don’t you worry,’ said another. ‘That’s the least of your problems right now. And besides, you’re not even our types.’
Before commencing whatever they were going to do, one of the captors holding the birch wood turned to his mates and asked. ‘What do you think, fifteen to start off with?’ And they readily agreed.
Mongoose strained his head to look around. ‘Fifteen? Fifteen what? What are you up to?’
To shut them up, insulation tape was plastered over their mouths. Mongoose and his mate grunted angrily behind the tape, then Mr Balaclava whipped the air with his birch stick just to get his stroke. Phew, Phew. First in line was Mongoose’s mate, for Mongoose, they wanted him to suffer the mental torment of knowing what he was going to get. Mr Balaclava took his aim and struck the shivering white flesh before him with a cruel thwack. The lad squealed into the tape, again he struck him, and again, thwack, thwack. Listening to the high pitched wail of his mate was becoming too much to bear, and Mongoose tried to bury his face in the grass to escape from it.
When the punishment was over, the lad’s trembling body displayed a dozen red welts that were clearly visible even in the dark. However, the lad tried to hide his tears of shame and agony by pressing his face in the cool grass. Now it was Mongoose’s turn, and he sealed his eyes with dread. Before the lashings began, Mr Balaclava paused.
‘OK, because you are the ringleader and we are so impressed by your lovely charm, you will get twenty strokes.’
Shit, Mongoose cried under his breath, and clenched himself ready.
The first whack stung like someone snapping a long piece of elastic against his skin. The second and third lashes were a bit stronger, and made it feel like his flesh was beginning to tear apart. By the fourteenth slash the pain was becoming unbearable, and he was having trouble catching his breath in between strokes. The agony he was now suffering, coupled with the terrible thought of what was happening to the flesh on his back, made him start to sob. So tense was his whole body, that by the twentieth and probably hardest lash, he squeaked and farted at the same time.
Mr Balaclava, exhausted after administering the punishment, finally stopped, and Mongoose’s body went limp. As quietly as he could, Mongoose cried into the soggy grass, his bloody, quivering back looked like a couple of Bengal tigers had been fighting on it.
‘Right, Mongoose or whatever your name is, if we hear of you or any of your rat mates hassling anyone else on that estate, the next time it will be fifty lashings. You got that?’
Mongoose nodded his head slowly.
‘And another thing, if those charges don’t get dropped on Mrs Roberts, and she doesn’t get her dog back tomorrow completely unharmed, then we’re going to find you again. We know where you and most of your rat pack mates live so watch out?’
Mr Balaclava squatted down beside him. ‘Not as tough as you think now, are yer?’
Mongoose didn’t answer.
Mr Balaclava straightened again. ‘Next time you dish it out on some innocent old woman, or any other honest citizen you just want to hurt for the hell of it, you just remember what you’ve just had?’
Both lads were un-tied, and left alone in the dark field with their lacerated backs and bruised egos. In the distance they could hear a flock of sheep calling each other in one of the nearby fields. Never again would that sound be so soothing to them.
*
The very next day, the police called round to Mrs Robert’s house to inform her that the charges of assault filed against her had been dropped. With regards to her lost pet, after questioning Mongoose and some of his gang, they had emphatically denied ever stealing him. But they assured the police officers that they would be more than happy to join in with the search. Flabbergasted by the news, Mrs Roberts thanked the officers for calling, but stressed that she could not rest until her beloved pet had been found.
However, tea time that day her prayers were answered when Tibby turned up bright eyed and bushy tailed in the charge of a very benevolent young couple. Apparently, early in the morning, Tibby had wandered into their garden in Marl Drive a couple of hundred yards down the road. Thankfully, he still had the identity tag on his collar, so he could be returned home.
Poor old Tibby must have been wandering around all night without any food or drink. Not to worry though, the caring young
couple had given him a good feed before they brought him back home. In her ecstatic relief, Mrs Roberts offered them a reward for their kind hearted deed but they wouldn’t accept it.
So at last, it was a happy ending for dear old Mrs Roberts, justice had been served.
CHAPTER 19
Will and Stacey exited the multiplex cinema in the Llandudno junction, having just watched the new Christmas Carol feature film. Their next stop was the Pizza Hut for a couple of sit-down 8 inch pizzas with garlic bread. Tonight was their way of spending some quality time together, before Stacey headed off with her parents to spend Christmas with relatives.
Inside the Pizza Hut, Stacey did all the ordering as Will had never been into one these places before, and to him, trying to understand the menu was like reading directions in a foreign airport terminal. After the waitress had taken their order, Will shook his head with frustration.
‘Good job you were here otherwise God knows what I would have ended up ordering.’
Stacey smiled amused. ‘It’s quite straight-forward once you’ve done it a couple of times.’
‘Couple of times?’ Will asked inquisitively. ‘Is this where you used to come with that chap from your college?’
‘Once or twice, yeah.’ She shrugged like it meant nothing.
Will paused, his curiosity getting the better of him now. ‘So just for the record, exactly how serious did the two of you get?’
‘We only saw each other for about six months, that’s all. It wasn’t serious as you put it.’
Will put up his hands in defence. ‘Hey, don’t worry, that was before I came back on the scene, back then you were a free agent so you don’t need to feel guilty about it?’
‘I’m not feeling guilty about it. We just had a bit of a relationship and then it fizzled out, that’s it.’
‘Just like that?’ Will teased her.
Stacey gave him that look which said, you’re not going to give up are you? So Will eased up a tad.
‘Honestly, it’s OK if you prefer not to talk about it, all I’m doing is putting all our cards on the table that’s all.’
Stacey gave in. ‘OK, in the end he started to get a bit too clingy for my liking. And I wasn’t ready for any of that.’
‘What do you mean, he wanted to marry you?’
‘He wanted to get engaged, but it wasn’t just that, he was very insecure and paranoid as well. He wanted to know where I was all the time, who I was with, and what I was doing. It drove me mad in the end.’
‘So what did happen in the end?’ Will asked elbows on the table, hands crossed under his chin.
‘In the end it got so bad that he started popping up wherever I went, it was a bit creepy. And then he started accusing me of seeing other people behind his back. He even tried stopping me from seeing my friends because he thought they were a bad influence. Once he even tried to get my mum and dad to phone him up whenever I went out. He used to get crazily jealous of me.’
Will’s face darkened. ‘He didn’t ever hit you or anything did he?’
‘No, no. He didn’t beat me, but towards the end, he did grab me a few times. But getting back to the paranoid thing, after he started asking my parents to spy on me I thought that’s it, I’ve had enough. And even after I finished it with him, he still used to follow me around. It almost got to the point that my dad threatened to go over to the college to see him, but I persuaded him not to. Instead, he phoned up the college to complain about him, and warn that if he didn’t stop, we were going to get the police involved.’
‘So what was he in this college then, a student like you?’
‘No, he was one of the tutors on one of the courses I was on.’
‘Sounds like a guy who’s spent too much time living at home with his mother, like Norman Bates. You didn’t ever take a shower in his presence did you?’
‘No,’ Stacey groaned. ‘But he does live at home with his mother, or he used to, I don’t know if he still does?’
Will smiled at the coincidence.
‘But all that is history now.’
‘Yeah, just as long as he knows that.’
Stacey looked up at him. ‘Yes, he does know that, and I don’t want to suddenly hear that he’s been in a mysterious accident or anything.’
‘I don’t even know who he is anyhow,’ Will conceded. ‘Plus I don’t do that sort of thing anymore, remember? And besides, I don’t want to jeopardise my parole either.’
‘Yes!’ Stacey emphasised. ‘So behave yourself. I don’t even agree with you going to all these training sessions with your mate, it might trigger that aggression in you again.’
Will frowned back at her. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going down that road again, I’m just helping my old mate with his students, just giving them the benefit of my experience.’
Somehow Stacey still didn’t look convinced about all that, but she let it go. Will, on the other hand was thankful that he didn’t have to tell her the real reason why he was helping to train Geoff’s team.
Finally their pizzas arrived and they both looked forward to tucking in. However, outside in the car park facing the pizza hut, someone sitting in their car appeared to be taking a particular interest in their dinner date?
*
‘Fear is the warrior’s best friend,’ Will lectured the team as they sat listening on the rubber scrimmage mats. This was their fifth training session, and the last before the Christmas recess. Once again, Will had succumbed to the request of his old pal Geoff by taking another class. Deep in meditative thought, Will dressed in a navy tracksuit paced up and down in front of the class.
‘You see in conventional martial arts, they don’t really prepare you for the effect that fear has on the mind and body. And in all honesty, this is imperative.’ Will raised an admonishing finger. ‘It doesn’t matter how hard you train, or how fit and strong you are, if your mind isn’t prepared for the fight, then the battle is already lost. I have heard of many good fighters actually run from a street encounter simply because they’re bottle has gone. I know a lot of you are probably familiar with the term fight or flight. But what actually does this phrase mean? Back in prehistoric times when man was faced with fifteen foot dinosaurs with mouths the size of a car’s boot he was given this sudden, explosive energy to run for his life. You’ve all heard the phrase, so scared that you’ve pissed or shit yourself. Well that is in fact very true, and the reason this happens is because it’s nature’s way of making the body as light as possible in order to gather as much speed necessary to run away from the enemy.
However, if a retreat is not possible, then the adrenalin will be used to prepare the body to fight. This includes anaesthetizing the body to pain, making the body faster, stronger, and providing you with the essential tools to help survive your encounter. All that sounds pretty good, doesn’t it? But the downside to this wonderful gift is the troubling symptoms that occur, and what effect they can have on the mind and body. For instance, when we encounter extreme pressures, or a great fear for something looming, then the adrenal glands are triggered, and release stress hormones into our bloodstream. It’s that adrenalin that revs you up ready for action, but many people are fooled into believing that this surge of energy is their body’s way of telling them that they are shit-scared, and they should run for their lives. You have all at one time or another experienced these tell-tale symptoms, especially if someone has challenged you to a fight. They include, tunnel vision, body trembling, legs feeling like lead, a quiver in the voice, nausea etc.’
Everyone nodded in agreement.
‘But when you feel these symptoms, instead of helping you, what does it make you feel like doing?’ Will asked the team.
‘Run like hell,’ Guy spoke up, and Will zapped him correct with his finger.
‘Run, exactly. And that is what many people do because they don’t fully understand what is happening with their bodies.’
Tom raised his hand. ‘So what are you
saying then, should we run, or stay and fight?’
Will thought he was missing the point. ‘That depends entirely on the person and the circumstances. All I’m trying to do here is explain what is happening to your body during those stressful moments. And that you should accept and use these factors to your advantage instead of letting them defeat you.’
Tom jumped in again. ‘So how do we use them to our advantage then?’
‘As I’ve said, accept what is happening to you, understand it, even prepare for it to occur. It’s simply your body’s own natural way of arming you ready for battle. It’s a help not a hindrance, it’s as natural as eating and breathing. When you’re hungry – you eat. When you’re thirsty – you drink, and when you’re scared – you fight. Adrenalin makes you sharper, faster and stronger, use it, control it, harness it. Fear is the ultimate friend of the true warrior.’
Brad raised his hand. ‘I understand what you’re saying, but I’ve felt that fight or flight fear quite a few times and I’ve tried to suppress it, but you can’t, can you?’
Will looked at him with amazement. ‘Why do you try and fight it? It’s a necessary tool so use it. If I gave you a weapon to use in a battle, would you waste time wondering if you should use it or not? No, you would say thank you very much that’ll do nicely.’
Tom put up his hand again. ‘Yeah, but when you’re in that position and you get the shakes, the quiver in the voice, and the sheet-white look of fear, it doesn’t actually paint a very good picture of confidence, does it?’
Will smiled, impressed by Tom’s question. ‘That is a good point.’
Tom preened himself, and got a mocking shove from Charlie.
‘That is where the experienced fighter comes in. You see, you will never be able to suppress all those physical symptoms, even the most seasoned fighters get them. But with practice and experience you can learn to control them.
Geoff looked at his watch, it was that time already. ‘OK, Will, that’ll do us, I think.’
