‘You’re making sound like you plan your stay here.’ Mary asked with some disgusted in her voice.
‘And what you’re planning on leaving?’ Asked Simon standing up once more.
‘Let’s face it, we can’t go anywhere, we’re dead! Some of us have been dead for well over a hundred years.’ Mary looked a little shocked he’d bring up her time.
‘We only move if we have somewhere to move to, deal?’ Mary replied, she was a woman of thought, she could see where he was coming from. Cameron watched from the side lines, he kept silent, while the two battled it out over a corpse.
‘Perhaps the first thing is, why did somebody try and shoot a seventy-year-old comedian who was meant to be dead?’ Mary suggested, crossing her arms to show this was the end of the conversation, Simon didn’t argue.
‘I think I may have an answer to that.’ Cameron raised his hand slowly as if he was unsure either of them would like the answer.
‘Nobody would want to kill a dead comedian, me on the other hand, I left a lot of pissed off people when I went into Somnus, to many. Something Mikey said to me kind of makes me think they were aiming to kill me.’ Cameron explained looking down the whole time he talked.
‘What did Michael have told you to think such a thing chap?’ Simon asked with some fear in him which trembled his voice as it poured out.
‘A woman I had slept with came snooping around here, before we were frozen. Mikey got her to leave but I didn’t hear much after that, she came for a job, a cleaning job I think.’ He paused and looked up, the glint of a tear willed in his eye.
‘This woman would be in her fifties by now, no way would she be able to actually make that kind of shot.’ Mary explained allowing her analytical mind to take over.
‘That isn’t it, I left her pregnant.’ Cameron finished.
‘If she was with child this would be a different story, he’d be in his early twenties, very early twenties. Dexterity would be there, and old enough for that kind of training, maybe even for him to serve queen and country.’ She examined aloud.
‘Mary stop.’ Simon said quieting her, as he’d watched Cameron become upset.
Mary hadn’t noticed Cameron had turned as upset as she had yesterday. It was yesterday now the sun had risen, nobody had slept and this was their first real twenty fifth hour they’d lived in a very long time.
‘You’re right. We cannot allow this body to lay here any longer. He must be moved. If for anything so we may not have such a grim reminder.’ Mary nodded toward the corpse which was once their friend instructing Simon to pick him up and move him. Even with such a damaged knee Simon lifted the small Allen with ease.
‘Where should I take him? I don’t think they’ll be a big enough hole for him even at his size.’ Simon examined.
‘Perhaps we use the coffins above, for their name sakes use.’ She explained.
‘Put him with the rest of our kin. Best place for him really his vase will be still frosting. He’d hold his looks a lot longer than expected.’ She explained leading the other two to the upstairs chambers.
At first, Cameron wasn’t welcome to come along but after a few seconds and a deep thought Mary thought it would be fitting for him to say a few words.
Once Allen was placed back into his vase and it was sealed, after Simon massaged feeling back into his fingers from the frost Mary and him both looked to Cameron for some burial words.
‘I don’t really know any.’ He explained.
‘Come on man. You’re the best wordsmith of the lot. Nothing springs to mind?’ asked Simon calmly patting his back to illustrate the importance of what Cameron was about to do.
‘Ashes to ashes.’ He began
‘Ashes to ashes.’ They echoed.
‘Funk to funky.’ Cameron continued. Both Mary and Simon opened one eye each, from the prayer stance they’d both went into, making a pair, to give Cameron funny looks with.
‘It’s all I know.’ He explained to the eyes.
‘Funk too funky. Perhaps we should stop there.’ Simon insisted.
‘I agree.’ Mary agreed with a stern face.
‘I didn’t think Bowie was the right thing for this occasion.’
‘No, Probably not.’ Simon, closed the casket and locked it for a final time. A few seconds later there was a small thud as the body of Allen had pushed its self-up against the window.
‘It didn’t feel right buckling him, I didn’t think he’d be going anywhere.’ He explained. Mary repeated her stern look, Simon thought he’d best get used to that now, all things considered he’d probably be seeing a lot of that look.
After a few seconds of silence, Cameron placed the little blue inhaler at the base of the vase and all three of them went back the spiralled stairs.
Once they were back in the small cafeteria part of the building they sat back in their selected seats and allowed the unfortunate event to wash over them.
‘Perhaps we should be planning on leaving this place. We can’t stay here, we have no idea if the killer will be back.’ Mary explained.
‘Please don’t call him that. He was my kid. Is my kid.’ Cameron corrected himself but not before correcting Mary.
‘Do you know his name?’ she asked in a soft voice but had a bitter tone, like she was eating a pick and mix and got a sherbet lemon.
‘Do you know it was him?’ Simon added.
‘No, no I guess I don’t. To be honest I barely knew the mothers name.’ explained Cameron.
‘So, the sniper. Who may or may not be your son, may come back at any point. Best we move as soon as possible.’ Mary begun again.
‘Where too?’ Simon spoke up from his corner of the room.
‘Well logic dictates the man who would know the lay of the land better than us two is yourself Cameron.’ They both looked at him as soon as Mary had said Cameron’s name.
‘We can’t go to my place. It was sold, probably. And it’s the first place my son would go looking for me.’ He explained back at them. Although the probably seemed like an afterthought.
‘I wasn’t really thinking of your home. More somewhere we could hide and maybe find your son before he finds us.’ Mary answered.
‘Kill him before he kills us. I love it.’ Simon clapped his mitts together and rubbed them in a sinister way.
‘I never said kill.’ Mary pulled out her stern look again, this time Simon merely staggered. It wasn’t as grimacing as the first.
‘Yes. Not kill. Just stop.’ Simon said with a graceful tone. Cameron pushed himself off the crib bed he’d been sitting on a slumped around a little look in places.
‘What is it you’re looking for?’ questioned Mary.
‘Something to put stuff in. A back pack or something.’ Cameron explained back at her.
‘The best for that would probably be in the offices.’ Suggested Mary in a half-muted tone, she tidied some beakers away which Cameron had disrupted.
Then the twins followed him, he seemed flustered like he wasn’t sure what he was doing, biding his time in till he worked what it was he was supposed to do.
The offices of the doctors had begun to be taken over by weeds seeding them in the cracks of walls and bursting through the rotting wood of the floor and equipment which wasn’t metal or glass. It looked like one of those movies where something had wiped out humanity and allowed the plant life to recover the land.
Next to some huge dandelions was a backpack, torn but in relative good shape. It was blue and cream, buckled closed opposed to zipping shut. Cameron sorted through a hand full of random things in it before emptying it out and starting again.
While the other two had allowed the knowledge that everyone they knew and loved was dead, the thought that people who were in his life twenty years ago, barely, we’re now effecting his life. People he’d didn’t really know but knew of. His life still continued to haunt even though he was the one supposed to be dead.
After un packing and packing a bag, Mary had stepped in to take over whil
e Simon helped calm Cameron down.
In the back, she softly placed a few items of clothing she’d found, some beakers and tubes with chemicals in them, each one held to the light before being placed in the bag, some were discarded, neither of the men knew why.
Some food was placed in last, mostly canned being this would still be edible, finally some sugary sweets she’d found in a Doctor’s draw whom she knew was heavily diabetic.
The three of them stood sullen in the door way, Cameron tossed the bag on his back and they all drew deep breaths. To Cameron only a week had gone by since entering the huge building hidden as a joke shop, but it had felt like a life time, he had no idea how the other two felt but he could only guess it was worse, although looking at the two of them you’d have never have thought that, Simon had a smile from ear to ear and Mary smirked in a way only she could.
‘Do you guys feel ready for this?’ Cameron asked, not like it made a difference if they weren’t, they had little choice in doing much else.
‘I doubt we’ll ever be truly ready.’ Simon replied as he began to take tiny baby steps into the outside world finally.
After clamoring up the hill, which surrounded the large tower of a building.
They looked back at it. One large spire sprung up from smaller shack sized buildings. The spire, they thought, that must be where the vases were held.
‘You designed them, how do you not know what the building they were in was like?’ Asked Cameron as his shoes slid on the mud.
‘We’d been moved several times before Simon got there, never mind yourself Mr. Bishop.’ Mary was in a low squat, searching around the ground with her hand hovering inches above it. Cameron turned, taken a few seconds to stare at her rear which had rounded with her pants. Simon nudged him with a sharp elbow. This stopped his eyes from glaring over.
‘What are you doing?’ Simon asked to hurry her back to her feet.
‘Looking for a heat signature. Where there’s an explosion there’s heat and where there’s heat there’s ammo.’ She explained. A hand shot up, it belonged to Mary. Between her finger tips a small piece of brass, hollow and tube like it was only four millimeters wide.
‘My knowledge of guns isn’t great I’m afraid.’ She pushed herself up using her knee as leverage. She looked at the other two for insight, neither of which had any.
Cameron even physically shrugged. She grabbed Cameron by the shoulders and shoved him around on the spot, which was easy to do because of the soft mud below his feet, placing the broke tube in one of the side pockets.
After a final look at the building which held all their friends they set off down the hill, in search for an idea of where they were exactly.
After what felt like a life time on weak legs walking, Mary had worked out they were just outside Newcastle, Cameron already half knew this being that he had an apartment there and Somnus wasn’t a long drive from his home.
‘This is good to know.’ Mary said pointing at a large green sign with had Newcastle embossed into it in white block text.
‘Why?’ Cameron asked,
‘My husband and I but lived fifty minutes away by coach.’ Mary explained, she slipped her hands back into the pockets of her trousers and sucked her lips in with her lungs as if she were thinking.
‘I guess it makes very little difference, the place would be completely different by now.’ She examined aloud.
‘You’d be surprised.’ Commented Cameron.
‘I’ve never been,’ Simon burst in feeling left out of the local chat.
‘Then don’t get lost,’ Jested Cameron.
The sign whistled a little as wind pushed passed it.
‘We best be off; the three-legged lamb is like an hour away. I’d want to get there before dark.’ Cameron began walking again. The other two caught up.
‘What’s the three-legged lamb?’ asked Mary rushing up to be next to him, his long spider like legs making huge strides even if they were slowed by his baggy jeans.
‘The pub me and then band used to hang out at. That’s got to still be there. Pubs don’t change.’ They kept walking, keeping to the back roads as much as they could.
By the time, they found themselves on the out skirts of Newcastle it’s self they’d begun to feel a little normal, being out in the open and the strength returning to their legs, every so often Mary stopped the group to hand out sweets, powering them on through the miles they’d walked already.
‘It’s just around this corner.’ Cameron had done a short jog to pace himself ahead of the group.
‘It’s kind of exciting, it was run down when we hung out there, I can’t imagine what shape it’s in now.’ He explained turning to face them but continuing to walk
‘If that’s it, it doesn’t look too run down to me chap.’ Examined Simon aloud. Cameron turned and his jaw dropped.
Chapter 6
The muddy red brickwork had been coated with concrete and painted white, the grubby windows which once were so grey they let little light in, now were replaced with double glasing, and the last straw which broke Cameron’s heart was the people who once filled the place, many of which were underage but went to the three-legged lamb simply because they knew they’d be served, had now all been switched out for young families, eating meals.
‘This doesn’t look like somewhere called the three-legged lamb,’ Commented Mary looking at the devastation on his face.
‘That’s ‘cos it’s not.’ Simon pointed up to a hanging sign swaying in the wind as the light dropped behind it, it read, the grey goose.
‘The grey goose? Everywhere was called the grey goose, this has to be the tenth grey goose in Newcastle’ Cameron had entered a state of shock
‘The forty-third, says so on the bottom of the sign.’ Simon continued to read, this time he ignored the stern look he was getting from Mary.
This wasn’t half as bad as telling Cameron his son was probably a murderer.
‘Why would you change it; it was beautiful as it was. Yes, it was a shit tip but it was a beautiful shit tip, more importantly it was music genius Cameron Bishops shit tip.’ Cameron moaned with some volume.
‘You’re not one of those Bishop heads are you lad?’ a Yorkshire accent came from a back alley, it was old and had begun to lose its twang, but the farmer voice still cut in, under certain words.
‘Bishop’s dead, going to his family home or is local boozer aren’t going to bring 'em back.’ The tall balding man with is tufts of grey spiked hair threw huge bags of rubbish into a large grey bin on caster wheels.
‘You shut the fuck up.’ Simon whispered into Cameron’s ear, it was nice to hear somebody swear other than himself.
‘It’s an absolute shame. The man was a god walking don’t you think?’ Cameron said between gritted teeth, he was dead to this man, and everybody says you can’t speak ill of the dead.
‘Huh, I guess if you’re into al that Gur-tar music, not me.’ He straightened his back and walked back through the fire exit the way he’d came out, he closed and locked with a large clatter.
‘We have to go in there.’ Cameron said with excitement back in his voice.
‘Why? It's barely the same pub you knew. None of your acquaintances are going to be in there.’ Mary explained.
‘Bullshit, sorry, that was Gilly, he ran the pub when it was the three-legged lamb, he has to know where that barmaid went, maybe even my son.’ Cameron explained rushing into the building, the other two followed by slowly.
The child-friendly atmosphere made Cameron almost retch, not that he was against kids, but pubs and kids didn’t mix in his head.
They found a table, which had a small disk stating which number it was, they sat around it. Least the tables were still sticky, that was a staple of the old bar Cameron haunted, the floor was less sticky than he had been used too.
‘I may have found out the reasoning for your beloved pubs facelift.’ Simon nodded at a brass plate which hung on the beams surrounding the door, “Part of HotFork Lt
d, established 2009.”
‘It’s became a chain pub.’ Cameron went silent after, he watched without blinking for a few seconds. It had, giving a slight glance you could tell, the sections of families dotted around the place, the laminated menus.
You wouldn’t dare order food in the three-legged lamb, the pickled eggs were a no go and even the crisps were hit and miss. If it wasn’t for the alcohol in the beer, that would have probably killed you too.
‘I didn’t think, I didn’t think anything would have changed.’ Cameron said, spinning a pen he’d picked up randomly on a nearby table, between his thumb and four finger.
Mary in a single movement grabbed Cameron’s hand stopping the pen in its tracks.
Cameron looked up to see Mary, she did a half smile, he returned it.
‘How are you guys so calm?’ he asked, the two which sat, they did seem remarkably calm. Simon leant forward.
‘We know, knew, whatever it is. Tenses are hard. We both already knew our lives were over, our friends are dead. There's no one out there, for us that is.’ Simon picked up the laminated menu and flicked through it.
There was an odd calmness between the table, as Cameron thought about what Simon had just said.
It ticked past seven and the night began to fully take over the grey goose. The families moved from their tables around them at cleared the place with haste.
Skinny young men and short blonde girls circled tables clearing half drank cokes and picking up half eaten plates.
The grey-haired man did a sweep of the whole place making sure the pub was clear. In the center of all of this sat the three oddly dressed clientele, although they’d not bought anything the grey-haired man let them stay as long as they kept quiet.
‘You’re that Bishop head from round front aren’t you.?’ Asked the grey hair as he rubbed down the odd table with a dirty hand rag.
‘That’s us.’ Simon said unconvincingly.
‘Your Tom Gillingham, aren’t you?’ Cameron asked, making it sounded like a guess as best he could.
‘Yeah, just call me Gilly. You a big Bishop guy then, I’m not mentioned in one of ‘Is books.’ Gilly pulled himself straight, his white shirt stressed taught over his large beer belly, the white edge of his shirt sprang lose from the waist line of his trousers.
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