ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror

by Wright, Iain Rob

  “Hey there,” Andrew said softly. “My name is Andrew. You’ve been in an accident, but everything is going to be okay. I’m taking you to the hospital right now. Can you tell me your name?”

  The boy carried on moaning for a few more moments but eventually managed to answer Andrew’s question. He said his name was, “Davie.”

  Chapter Eight

  Andrew reached the Alexandra Hospital in less than ten minutes, screeching to a halt outside the entrance of the A & E department. There was no one around and he had to cry out for help. It wasn’t long before a male nurse and a couple of orderlies appeared outside, hurrying to see what the emergency was.

  The orderlies quickly retrieved a gurney when they saw the injured boy and, together with the male nurse, they managed to hoist Davie out of the car and onto the wheeled bed. Without hesitation they disappeared inside the hospital and left Andrew alone with the male nurse.

  “Do you know the boy?” the nurse asked him.

  Andrew shook his head. “Said his name was Davie, but I’ve never met him before. He ran out into the road and I knocked him over. I think maybe he hit his head.”

  The nurse put a hand on Andrew’s back and ushered him inside. “We’ll take good care of him, sir. For now we’ll need you to answer a few questions so that we can assess the extent of his injuries. You may have to make a report to the police as well because it was you that hit him.”

  It mortified Andrew to hear it out loud, but he had no choice except to nod – yes, he had hit the boy; had run him right over because he hadn’t been paying enough attention.

  I ran down somebody’s son.

  How would I feel if somebody had hit Bex?

  The nurse led Andrew over to a grouping of cheap plastic chairs bolted to the floor in uniform rows. “Take a seat, sir. We’ll keep you updated on his condition. Is there someone you’d like us to call?”

  Andrew thought about Pen and Bex, but then found someone else popping into his head. “I need to see someone else that is already here. A girl named Charlie. She has burn injuries from a fat fryer.”

  The nurse raised an eyebrow. “I think I recall someone coming in with those injuries. What relation are you?”

  Andrew looked down at the floor, examining the various stains and scuffs adorning the beige tiles of the waiting room. “I’m…a friend, I guess.”

  “Okay, I’ll see what I can find out for you.”

  Andrew thanked the nurse and leaned back in the chair. The bruising on his ribs throbbed as his chest compressed against the hard, uncomfortable backrest. He let out a hiss.

  The small waiting room was empty of people. The other chairs contained nothing except discarded magazines and folded newspapers. Apparently, weekday evenings were not peak-time for injures.

  So the only two people admitted are both probably here because of me. Way to do my bit for national health.

  Five minutes later, a young lady in a white tunic came and sat beside Andrew. She asked him a series of questions about the incident and wrote down his replies on a printed form. Once she reached the end of the questionnaire, she smiled at Andrew and disappeared back into the staff-only area of the hospital. Waiting for further news was a torment he could hardly bare. For all he knew, right now, the young boy he knocked over could have permanent injuries.

  The over-sized clock on the waiting room wall moved along almost one full hour before anyone else came to speak to Andrew. It was the same male nurse that had met him in the car park.

  He took a seat next to Andrew. “How are you doing?”

  “Not bad, considering. Any news?”

  The nurse smiled and nodded. “The boy you ran into is going to be fine. He has some bruising on his ribs and a mild concussion from where his head hit the road. Either way, he’ll be fine after an extended rest. He was awake for a while, but he’s sleeping at the moment.”

  Andrew let all of the air out of his lungs in a great big huff and rubbed at his cheeks. “Thank God. Did you let his family know?”

  “No. He wouldn’t give us anyone to contact. He just said to let him know when it was alright to leave.”

  “That’s strange,” said Andrew. “Well, when he wakes up let him know I’m happy to drive him home.”

  “I’ll tell him. Now about this girl you said you wanted to check on. I located her in the burns ward. She’s going to be okay, but the damage to her arm is…severe.”

  “Permanent?” asked Andrew, not wanting to hear the answer.

  The nurse nodded grimly. “She has second-degree burns above her elbow all the way down her arm. She’s in a great deal of pain so she’s been put on morphine.”

  Andrew found himself unable to breathe, his bodily functions halted temporarily by the horror he was feeling.

  “She’s asked to see you,” the nurse explained.

  Andrew was surprised. “Really?”

  The nurse stood up. “I’ll take you there now. She’ll probably be asleep once the treatment takes hold.”

  Andrew stood up and followed the nurse out of the A & E department and passed through the waiting room for regular admittance. It was a great deal busier than the empty emergency room had been. Several people sat around looking unwell or at the very least, bored out of their minds.

  Andrew and the nurse continued on through to the treatment wards, taking an elevator up to the second floor and passing by the mournfully-silent Oncology Department. Finally, they reached the Burns Unit.

  The nurse pushed open one of the swinging double-doors and stood aside for Andrew to enter. The first thing he noticed as he walked into the room was the suffocating odour of antiseptic creams and alcohol. The ward was cramped, divided into cubicles on both sides.

  “She’s in bed number three,” the nurse explained, pointing up ahead.

  Andrew thanked him and headed for Charlie’s cubicle – a set of canvass walls and a blue nylon curtain for the door. Andrew pulled aside the curtain and stepped inside. Charlie was staring right at him when he entered.

  “Hi, Charlie,” he said, looking left and right for a chair to sit on. His eyes quickly fixated on the thick, white bandages covering her left arm. Not wanting to be rude, he perched himself down on a nearby chair and looked her in the eye.

  “H-how are you doing?”

  Charlie shook her head. She looked weary from the morphine entering via the drip on her uninjured arm.

  “I’m really sorry you got hurt,” said Andrew. “Are your parents coming?”

  Charlie’s voice was croaky when she spoke. “Someone’s contacting them now. How come you got here so fast?”

  “I ran someone over in my car,” said Andrew. “I was already heading here to see how you were, but I guess that made me drive a little faster. I knew you’d been hurt because I visited the chip shop just after it happened.”

  Charlie let out a little laugh. It was a sleepy and weak. “You hit someone?”

  Andrew laughed a little, too. “Yeah, if you can believe it? He’s going to be fine, though. Which just leaves the question: what exactly happened to you?”

  Charlie turned her head and looked away. Her eyes focused on her bandages. The sight seemed to upset her a great deal. “What do you think?”

  Andrew leant forward on his chair. “Frankie?”

  Charlie nodded. “He knew that I spoke to you.”

  Guilt took root in Andrew’s gut and started to eat away at him, gnawing with its vicious little teeth. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I went and had it out with him this afternoon. Your friend was with him and I mentioned your name. I…I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, you have to believe me. I was just trying to protect my…” Andrew’s voice trailed off. This girl in front of him would be scarred for life and it was his fault. There were no excuses she needed to hear from him. None would be good enough.

  “I don’t want you to ever bother me again,” said Charlie in a voice that was forceful despite her dreary, drug-addled tone. “This happened because of you.”


  “I know. But this also happened because of Frankie. I may have dragged you into this, but it’s him that needs to pay. We need to tell the police.”

  Charlie shook her head. “Frankie is a psychopath.”

  “I know,” said Andrew, exasperated. “That’s why you need to have him arrested. I need to make sure he’s stopped before…before…”

  “Before he does the same to your family?” said Charlie.

  Andrew felt sick at the thought. Earlier on, he’d been convinced that Frankie’s bark was bigger than his bite, but after the callous attack on this innocent young girl, he knew how wrong he had been.

  “I’d get your family and just move,” said Charlie, sounding very sleepy now. “I’m not…getting…involved.”

  Andrew sat for a few moments, trying to formulate a counter-argument in his head, but came up blank every time. Before he even came close to having something useful to say, Charlie had fallen asleep, deeply unconscious in the grasp of morphine-soaked oblivion.

  Andrew stood up. “I’m sorry,” he said. Then he left her alone.

  Outside, the male nurse had been waiting for him. “Everything okay?”

  Andrew shook his head. “Not at all, but for now can you take me to the boy I ran over. Seems I have a lot of apologising to do this evening.”

  ***

  Andrew had to sit outside the recuperation ward for over an hour while Davie slept. During that time a Community Support Officer took a statement for the police. Everything was taking so long that Andrew had to send a text message to Pen, letting her know that the girl was okay and that he would be home soon as he could. He didn’t tell her that he’d also run over a young boy on the way to the hospital. That was a conversation for later.

  A plump woman came out of the ward and smiled at Andrew on her way to the nurse’s station nearby. As she passed she told him that, “The boy is awake now. You can go in.”

  Andrew nodded his thanks and stood up. His knees clicked as they straightened out and he suddenly felt sixty-years-old. Inside the ward there were a dozen separate beds, half of them empty. At the far end was the boy he’d hit, head wrapped in a bright-white bandage. Andrew walked over and stood at the end of the bed.

  “How you doing?” he asked. “You feeling okay?”

  The boy’s eyes went wide for a split-second, almost as if he recognised Andrew, but that seemed unlikely. “Y-yeah, thanks. Was it you that ran me over?”

  Andrew nodded.

  “Did you do it on purpose?”

  “What?” Andrew’s mouth fell open. “Of course not. I never meant it at all. I’m really sorry this happened.”

  The boy was silent for a moment as if trying to work something out. “Okay. So you never wanted to hurt me?”

  “Of course not. I’ve never even met you before. I’m sorry, okay?”

  The boy nodded. “Thanks. I was probably to blame anyway. I was running across the road without looking.”

  Andrew shrugged his shoulders. “Well, whoever’s to blame it was just an accident. You’re going to be okay and that’s the main thing. I’m happy to give you a ride home when you’re ready, pal? I’m sure I can clear it with the nurses.”

  “No, no, that’s okay. I’ll make it home on my own.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Andrew. “I hit you five miles from here. I’m not letting you make your own way home with a concussion. Apparently you hit your head pretty hard.”

  “But-”

  “No arguments. I’ll go talk to the nurses now and see if we can break you out of here. Then we can go get a McDonalds on the way home or something.”

  The boy smiled, but then it dissolved into a frown. “They said I’m not allowed to eat for twenty-four hours.”

  Andrew winked at the boy. “Who’s going to know?”

  “Okay,” said Davie. “Thanks.”

  “Sure thing. Where am I driving you to, anyway?”

  The boy hesitated before he answered. “T-Tanner’s Avenue. You know it?”

  Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Tanner’s Avenue? Great…I know the place well, actually. I’ll be waiting outside for you, okay?”

  Andrew left Davie alone and exited the ward, wondering the whole way whether or not coincidences existed.

  Chapter Nine

  Davie was almost certain that the man waiting for him outside the ward was the very same guy who had been on his doorstep earlier arguing with Frankie. While not one-hundred percent positive, Davie recognised the man’s neat brown hair and spindly posture.

  Behind the plastic wraparound curtain of the cubicle, Davie pulled on his jeans. Every time he peeked through the gap in the sheet, he could see the man peering in at him through the long windows of the ward.

  Waiting to batter me to death and finish what he started when he ran me down with his car.

  Davie didn’t believe that, though. The man – Andrew was it? – didn’t seem to mean him any harm. In fact it didn’t seem that the man even knew who Davie was – or who his brother happened to be. Davie thought about the word coincidence and decided that it was the correct one for the situation. Still, what would happen when the man dropped him off at the same house he’d been at earlier?

  He’ll know I’m Frankie’s brother for sure, then.

  There was no chance of the man letting Davie make his own way home – he felt too responsible – so the best plan would be to have him stop at the end of Tanner’s avenue and drop him off there. Davie could pretend to walk to another house then go home when the coast was clear.

  Davie pushed his feet into his worn trainers and suddenly felt dizzy. He fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes until the feeling passed. The back of his head throbbed rhythmically and each time it did Davie felt a little more nauseated. The thought of telling his mother or Frankie that he’d been in an accident made him feel even worse.

  Frankie will go mad if I tell him I got run over. Especially if I tell him who’s responsible.

  After a few moments of remaining still, the sickness went away. Davie pulled aside the privacy curtain and stepped away from the bed. The man was still waiting outside and gave a little wave through the window as Davie approached. There was a young woman in a nurse’s uniform standing there, too.

  Davie pushed through the ward’s double doors and the nurse held something out to him – a small plastic container.

  “Take these pills every morning,” she said, “and at lunchtime. They should help with the headaches. You need absolute rest so get yourself in bed, sweetheart, and don’t leave for anything, you hear? You have someone to look after you?”

  Davie lied. “Yeah, my mum.”

  “Let’s get you home, then,” Andrew said, wrapping an arm around Davie’s shoulders and ushering him away. It made Davie uncomfortable to be touched by an adult, but he did not resist.

  “You really don’t have to take me, Mr…”

  “I do,” he said firmly, “and you can call me Andrew. You’re my responsibility until I get you home. Still fancy that McDonalds?”

  Davie thought about the recurring sickness in his tummy and shook his head. “Thanks all the same, but I think it will just make me feel worse. I just want to go home to bed.”

  “No probs. I’m parked right outside so I’ll have you there in ten.”

  The two of them set off through the bleak corridors of the hospital, the silence growing more awkward with each passing step. Davie considered making a run for it, but knew he wouldn’t make it more than a few yards without having to stop and throw up. Just strolling along took a concerted effort.

  “This way!” said Andrew, just as Davie was about to make a turn into the reception area. “I came in through the A&E not General Admissions.”

  Davie followed Andrew into a waiting room that was empty except for a young lad with a thick clump of glass sticking out of a bleeding head wound. He was sobbing quietly as he sat there alone.

  Someone’s bottled him, Davie thought to himself, knowing the type of i
njury well from experience. The scars never go completely away.

  Davie and Andrew exited the hospital and stepped into the cold breeze of the car park. There was a bright red Mercedes parked askew across several parking bays and, as Davie got closer, he could see that the vehicle was plastered in graffiti – the words Pedo PedoPedo written all over it. Davie glanced at Andrew uncertainly.

  Andrew seemed to realise the situation and immediately became flustered, waving his hands and shaking his head defensively. “No, no, no, you don’t need to worry. That’s just the work of some idiot that’s been terrorising the neighbourhood. His idea of a joke!”

  “Ha ha,” said Davie without inflection, secretly thinking that Frankie had a weird sense of humour. “You must have laughed all night?”

  Andrew looked at Davie and then suddenly broke into laughter. “Yeah, I had an absolute hoot! Now come on, get yourself inside the pedo-wagon. I want to take you home and show you my basement. I have candy.”

  Davie joined in the laughter and pulled open the passenger door when Andrew disengaged the automatic locks. Despite the spoiled paintwork, it was still the most posh car Davie had ever been in. The seats were soft, stitched from leather, and the dashboard had a sleek metallic sheen that was peppered with chrome-plated dials and switches.

  “Nice car,” he commented.

  “Thanks,” said Andrew, sliding into the driver’s seat and strapping himself in. “I only just got it, but I think it’s nice too. Obviously someone felt it needed some custom paintwork, though.”

  “Will it cost a lot to repair?”

  Andrew started the engine and looked forward. He shrugged. “Probably. Hopefully my insurance will cover it, but then they charge you more money every month to make up for it, so I’ll end up paying for it in the end.”