Should Have Killed The Kid

by Frederick Hamilton, R.

  Monty must have walked, he mused, finding success in the right top pocket of his shirt. He dug the lighter out and smiled. Ha! No wonder he’s in a shit mood if he’s just walked through that. Must have really wanted those pints…

  The rasp of the flint was sweet. The first indrawn breath even more so. Dave dragged the smoke deep down into his lungs and felt his smile spread wider. He was still in the honeymoon phase. Before he pulled into the servo an hour into the trip up, he’d been off the smokes for over a fortnight. Though really he was surprised it took that long to cave. Considering it was only Naomi’s whingeing that had set him off on his fourth attempt to quit, he’d thought that it’d be one of the first things to go when she walked out the door.

  He exhaled and greedily sucked more down, feeling the faint hint of a headspin. They’ll be gone again in a day or two, he mused and stuffed the lighter into his pants pocket, wedging it in next to his mobile. Feeling the out-of-date bulk of the phone triggered the thought: maybe she’s messaged. The thought triggered a reply: don’t be stupid. As if she’s going to message. Probably couldn’t even get reception out here if she tried.

  Torn between the two, Dave paused in position for a few puffs. He mulled it over but in the end, he couldn’t help his curiosity. He pulled the phone from his pocket and flicked up the top so the display lit up.

  Surprisingly there was reception. Two bars, barely-there reception but reception nonetheless.

  Unsurprisingly there were no messages. No missed calls either. Something that deflated him a little even though he’d tried his best not to get his hopes up.

  ‘Smells good, mate,’ Bruno’s accent cut across his thoughts, bewildering Dave until he nodded at the smoke. ‘Just quit myself.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yeah, still got the jingles going on so, you know, blow a little my way, huh.’ Bruno barked a short laugh and Dave smiled politely in reply, still puffing away. A second of silence passed as they both looked out into the rain.

  ‘Seriously though, don’t let Monty get to you, alright. He’s okay. Just a little intense, yeah? Found me here on the very first day I arrived, mate, and you should’ve heard the way he carried on. Mate… Like the world was ending. You’ve got no idea. Then when all this started,’ Bruno gestured around at the decrepit shell of the building. ‘Wooh.’ He tapped his hand against his forehead. ‘Phhsffft. Forget it. Day in, day out, he hassled me. But he’s settled down now, yeah. Just a little leery of anything changing. Poor bastard lives out in a shack down that-a-way. Probably saw it on the way in, yeah? Bet you thought it was deserted, huh? Nope. Apparently Monty here has lived there since Adam was a boy. If you listen to the other guys who come in here, even had a wife living there with him till a year or two back.’ Bruno accompanied his words with a cutthroat gesture. ‘Car accident, apparently.’

  ‘That’s no good.’ Dave had never counted small talk as one of his strong suits.

  ‘Bah, probably a relief after being married to that nutter, huh?’

  ‘Probably,’ Dave nodded, remembering the eyes that had burned into him. It was hard to picture them containing anything like love.

  ‘So…’ Dave floundered for a second that he covered with a long inhale on his smoke. ‘So what’s all the building for? Houses or do you have a shopping centre or something going in?’

  ‘Houses. Yeah, got one of those estates coming in, you know. Rich man’s escape. Big city gets a bit much for ‘em and they pack up and bring the family out here where they can hide away from everything behind the gates. That sort of stuff. My cousin fronts one of the crews who went to tender, gave us a heads up. Sort of a dream of mine to own something like this and everything just came together, you know, mate? Scouting around the property websites and what do I see? This puppy going nice and cheap. In need of a little TLC, yeah. But once that’s taken care of. Goldmine, mate. Even with the renos it won’t set me back anywhere near as much as something half the size in the city. What about you? What’d you do with yourself?

  Dave nodded in what he hoped was an appropriate manner throughout the stream of chatter that exited Bruno’s mouth but wasn’t really paying that much attention. He was completely caught off guard by the abrupt question.

  ‘Um… Well… I work at DHS…’ he spluttered, hoping Bruno wouldn’t pry too much further. ‘…down in Melbourne,’ and, after remembering Naomi’s complaints about him using the acronym, he added, 'Department of Human Services. I work for them.’

  ‘Wow. Intense stuff, yeah?’ Bruno nodded as though absorbing something that shocked him to the core. ‘There you go.’

  Here we go, Dave thought, time for the awkward explanations. He hated explaining exactly what his job entailed. He couldn't help feeling like a failure when he clarified that he was neither a social worker nor crisis counsellor. Admin assistant, as intense as it gets! he thought sarcastically; though a small part of him itched to use the line Timbo always did while at the pub failing to pick up women: I do a lot of things I don’t fully understand involving paper.

  Fortunately, just as Bruno was opening his mouth a beat up looking 4WD squelched into the car park and he didn’t pursue his questioning any further.

  ‘Oops, here comes the first wave.’ Bruno sent a wink Dave’s way. 'If you'll excuse me, buddy. Better get to it.' His wide grin revealed brown and stained teeth. 'See you inside.'

  'Seeya.'

  Bruno headed inside, returning his attention to the folded blue print. Dave had to grin as he saw him bounce off the door frame and almost fall from the ramp. He gave Bruno a good enough head start, polishing off his smoke as he watched a burly looking man jump from the 4WD and slosh across the car park toward him, then he crushed the butt out underfoot, picked up his duffel bag and followed him.

  He didn't know what Bruno's rush was to get back inside. When he stepped off the drop-sheet, Marcus was in place behind the bar, looking almost as surly as Monty in front of him. Dave bypassed the both of them and headed for the drop-sheet over the door on the left. Bruno's hurried directions to his room had long since slipped his mind but when faced with a choice of the two at the bar or a little bit of adventuring, Dave knew what to select.

  He pushed through to a sharp look from the gathered contractors who were in the middle of packing up their tools. They seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief when they saw it was only him and returned to it, leaving him free to stare around the room undisturbed.

  It was only half finished but already Dave could see it was shaping up every bit as opulent as the front room – although on slightly smaller scale. There was a door heading off to the left – once more covered in the obligatory drop-sheet – and another one tucked around the corner from the stairs that ran up the right hand side wall, but apart from that no further clues were offered as to the room's purpose. Dave didn't bother to try and divine it for too long. He just headed for the stairs which were the only clear part of Bruno's direction he remembered and trudged up, running a hand over the elaborate woodwork of the banister that he imagined would look breathtaking once it was stained and varnished.

  The effect ended as soon as he reached the top and studied the thin hallway that stretched out before him, two doors apiece on the left and right sides. The stripped floor boards looked like they were from another century and creaked alarmingly as he took his first step. He swallowed nervously as he pictured himself plummeting through to the room below. And though Dave told himself that it was ridiculous – surely Bruno wouldn't have let him come up here if it wasn't safe – he still tested each footstep before he put his full weight down.

  The first door he tried only led to an empty room. Dave paused to think, spending an embarrassingly long time trying to recall Bruno's words – he vaguely remembered that one side had been a definite no no – before a simpler solution occurred to him.

  He fished the key Bruno had given him from his pocket and started trying the locks.

  Of course it was the last one he tried that led to success.
The two on the right were locked tight and Dave's key wouldn't open them.

  Last on the left it is, he thought and although the door was already unlocked, tried the key anyway. It turned smoothly in the tumbler and he entered closing and locking the door behind him. Inside the room wasn't too bad if you discounted the furniture. Those were rusted monstrosities of metal that nearly put Dave’s back out just looking at them. He assumed they’d be replaced once the renovations were completed. Or at least he certainly hoped so.

  Who knows, maybe they’re antiques or something, Dave thought as he headed across the floor to the window. Well at least the windows aren’t boarded up.

  Unlike the front, the panes in the room were intact. Through the rain splatters, Dave peered out at the swath of forest that swept around and off to the right. He assumed he was overlooking the back of the hotel but wasn’t entirely certain – he’d never been the best at navigating buildings, two turns was usually enough to leave him completely confused.

  From the higher vantage point he could see open paddocks on the far side of the trees stretching away to the horizon where the sun was just starting to set. He didn’t recognise the crop growing – his best guess was grapes – but that didn’t really surprise him. He didn’t recognise the trees that hugged the paddock on the right either. Or the breed of the straggling clumps of cattle that occupied the further paddocks to the left.

  From out of the swath of trees a muddy path emerged, and remembering the state of Monty’s boots, Dave wondered if maybe this was the route he’d taken. He could see it twisting away between the trees and traced it up to a splintering junction before it was swallowed by the tree’s shadows and the obscuring rain. But apart from that, there wasn’t really much to hold his attention. He turned and headed for the bed and dumped his duffel bag on it before heading for the shower that he spotted through the open door beyond.

  Inside the reasonably clean bathroom, the pipes rattled ominously and Dave showered quickly, once more overcome with the ridiculous fear that Bruno was going to come hurtling in, drenched to the bone, screaming, ‘Oh fuck, you didn’t use the shower did you?’

  It was a relief to don some dry clothes, snag his smokes from the duffel bag and head back to the bar without having the taps explode from the wall or the shower base go crashing through the floor beneath him. Further relief flooded him as he approached and heard chatter emanating from beyond the drop sheet.

  When he stepped through, the scene inside the bar had changed somewhat. Monty still formed a glowering centrepiece but was now surrounded by a handful of others. Most wearing flannelette and blue yakka’s though there was also a rather large lady in a faded floral dress sitting quietly over in the corner.

  He made sure to pull up a couple of feet away from Monty while he waited for Marcus to finish serving down the other end. Still the old man drew his eyes despite his best efforts. Must have had a few more socks squirreled away, Dave thought as he took in the four empty pint glasses surrounding him while he sipped at a fifth. Shit, looks like he’s had the suit on for a week at least. Probably washed it last time he shaved…

  ‘What can I get you?’ Marcus’s voice cut in and Dave gratefully looked away. Whether from imbibing a little of what he was serving – Dave could see the half-filled pint down by the till – or just from the interaction with the other patrons, Marcus’s mood appeared to have lightened. The death scowl had dropped and though it wasn’t quite a smile that replaced it, it was close. ‘Oh, you’re David, yeah.’ Marcus actually turned to face him and did a little double take as he saw it wasn’t one of the regulars propping up the bar.

  ‘Yep, that’ me.’

  ‘Good, good. Enjoying the stay so far? Sorry I didn’t introduce myself properly earlier. The old man, you know? Eh. I’m Marcus, anyway.’ The younger Gallo held out a hand and nearly crushed Dave’s in his grip.

  ‘Nice to meet you. Sorry about the… confusion with the booking and all.’ Dave thought about adding a suggestion that a few choice alterations to their website might be in order but after a moment of reflection decided it just wasn’t worth the hassle.

  ‘Nah, you’re alright.’ Marcus leaned across the bar conspiratorially. ‘It’s just the old man. Got rocks in the head, yeah? Thinks money grows on them trees out there, you know?’

  Dave wasn’t sure he did but he nodded anyway.

  Unfortunately Marcus seemed to take that as an invitation to settle in.

  'Doesn't quite compute that if he wants all this to happen then there needs to be a bit of money coming in. Mate, his idea of publicity is a flyer drop and an ad in the local paper. Old bastard nearly fell over when I showed him the website.'

  'It was very nice.' Dave winced at how ridiculous and redundant a statement he made but fortunately Marcus didn't even seem to notice. Dave was quickly getting the impression that Bruno's son wasn't shy of hearing his own voice.

  'It's going to be hard enough getting people in as it is. 'Specially with the name he picked. Cheerful, yeah? Ha! Try telling him that. Just goes straight over his head. Doesn't even get the pun.' Marcus paused for a shake of the head. 'But bah, don't need to hear my sob story. What can I get you?'

  'Um, a pint, thanks.' After a pause during which he pondered requesting something else just to see if anything but Carlton was on offer, Dave settled for the easier decision and nodded toward the tap, digging his wallet from his pocket at the same time.

  Marcus scuttled down and filled a glass before returning and shaking his head at the twenty Dave offered.

  'Nah mate, this one's on the house, alright? For the mix up, yeah?'

  'Ah, cheers. Thanks.' Dave tucked the money back into his top pocket and raised the glass to Marcus who winked at him before heading for a waving patron down the other end of the bar.

  Kind of chuffed for the freebie, Dave took a long swallow but grimaced as it still went down sour.

  Free pint though, he thought a little sarcastically, placing it back on the bar, maybe things are looking up. The smile that started to spread across his face stalled as he looked across and saw Monty hunched over and staring in his direction. The eyes burning into him, scouring away any mirth, transforming it into unease.

  Dave quickly turned away and took another swallow of his pint.

  Fucking nutter.

  7.

  Dave was on his fifth or six pint when he made the mistake of talking to Monty.

  Things were starting to get a little hazy, though it was not the fun-filled drinking blitz Dave had pictured earlier. Each successive pint had grown sourer as Naomi's voice had looped over and over in his head. I don't like the way you act when you're drinking. It's uncomfortable. You think you get happy but you don't...

  Rather than talking to the locals – a group that had swelled to a surprising level for how uninhabited the surrounding land appeared – Dave had done a passable impression of Monty instead. Staring down at the bar as all the fights they'd had over the past five years played through his mind. Lined up like that it'd been hard to miss the common theme. It saddened him even as he indulged in it to fight that very sorrow.

  The only thing breaking up his reflections: the occasional trip out into the chill night air for a cigarette.

  That was until, over the babble of the crowd, he heard Monty mutter something that sounded like, 'Yeah, you know what it's like,' and turned to see the old man staring at him again, nodding away.

  Dave didn't know why he bit but he did.

  'Sorry?' Regret followed the second the word exited him mouth but it was too late.

  Monty latched onto the invitation and slid across the two barstools that separated them. He leaned in close enough that Dave could smell that his earlier surmise about the man's clothes might very well be correct.

  'Gets you down, doesn't it?' Monty smiled, showing a hint of yellowed teeth. The grin did nothing to set Dave at ease though. It did not alter the lunatic gleam in the old man's eyes one bit. If anything, it enhanced it. Dave had to remind him
self that he was in a room full of people. He's not going to do anything with such a crowd about, Dave reassured himself. Surely not.

  'What do you mean?' Dave winced at the buffet of fumes that spewed out with Monty's words. He leaned back a little as Monty leaned in closer.

  'All this,' Monty slurred, his grin spreading wider and sloppier. Dave realised that the man was a lot drunker than he appeared.

  'All–'

  'Everything's changing and it shouldn't be.' Monty cut Dave off, his slur suddenly transforming into a vicious whisper. 'They're ruining everything. Fucking everything. Lived here my whole life and everything is peachy but now these dumb cunts want to come and fuck everything up. They don't even know what they're playing with. That don't even fucking comprehend the scope of what they're toying with. Just fuck up their pretty city and when that's done, come out her and fuck that up cause they can no longer cope with the stench of their own fucking shit.'

  Dave wilted beneath the intensity of Monty's gaze. He tried his best to find something of deep interest at the bottom of his pint but it was like his eyes were hypnotic. No matter how many times he looked away they dragged his gaze back.

  'I–' He flailed for an answer but Monty was already talking again. Dave was not a fan of how each sentence seemed to draw the man closer and closer.

  'Look at this fucking place. Used to be a nice pub, this one. Sure a little run down but nice. Homey. The old guy who used to run it, he understood things. Knew there was stuff that you just didn't fuck about with. Poor fucking bastard’d be turning in his grave if he could see his place now. See what these prats are fucking doing to it.' Monty paused for a long swallow from the pint that had migrated across with him. 'And this is just the start. I can tell you that. Just the first inroads. No, the cunts won't be happy until the whole place is just another fucking tourist trap. Till it's all cleared and redeveloped. Till they've fucked everything.'