Just Another Day

by Steven Clark

  ‘I fucking told Luke before, I’d never do this again, no fuckin way; not cold blooded murder, it’s not right, not fuckin right. Why don’t we just run now while we’ve got the chance?’

  He heard the soft whistling of his brother walking back along the passageway from the toilets at the back of the office.

  ‘Now then sunshine, which one do you fancy, knife? Shotgun, shotgun, knife? C’mon our kid, you choose.’

  ‘I can’t do this Luke, you take the gun, I can’t blow someones fuckin head off for no reason at all. We’ll both die in prison if we go through with this. Let’s just tie them both up and leave them here. We’ve got time to get away. We can take the BMW and dump it somewhere and pick up another motor.’

  ‘You don’t get it do you Tony. I know we could fuck off now and be on the run for a while. That’s not the point. We haven’t got any fuckin money because of this twat.’ He pushed the shotgun deeper into Dave’s neck as he lifted the barrel further into the air forcing him almost onto his toes. Dave could see the veins standing out in Johnson’s neck and his eyes widening and starting to cloud over.

  ‘How long d’you think we’d last out there with fuck all you stupid little bastard. We’ll both go to prison sooner or later. But, and this is the important bit for both of us Tony, they’ll love us in there. Don’t you see, we’ll get looked after in there for ever kid. We’ll be the brothers who blew the head off one copper and cut the fuckin heart out of the other. We’ll be fuckin heroes brother, absolute fuckin heroes.’

  There was a wildness in Luke that even his younger brother had not seen before. Having been around him all his life, he thought he had seen the worst that he could offer. The evil in his eyes was enough to see when he watched Terry Penrose being slowly crushed to death by his own wagon. He’d nearly wet himself with excitement; but that, that was nothing to what he was witnessing now.

  Dave was clutching at the barrel with his right hand in a hopeless, futile act of trying to pull the gun away, his left hand was completely useless and as his heartbeat began to race and pump harder, the blood from his broken and shattered knuckle began to flow once more. He knew he was seconds from death.

  Tony was horrified by his brothers’ violence, he backed away from him. He had been right earlier when he had called him ‘mad’. He finally understood; his brother was the devil. He was everything that was unspeakably evil in the world. He believed now that he would die as well. His older brother, who he loved and hated in equal measures, would kill him if he did not carry out his part of the plan. Luke was going to blow the young coppers head off come what may. Tony for his part, had to kill the older police man with the knife if he didn’t, Luke would kill him as well. He looked backwards and forwards, at the handcuffed policeman and his brother.

  ‘Do it you little shit, don’t think. I’ve fuckin told you before, don’t ever think about it, just fuckin do it.’

  The mucus and snot; the white flecks of spit, were spraying all over Dave’s face as his murderer screamed at his young brother and he watched as Tony staggered over towards the killing post. Dave looked into Johnsons eyes for the last time as his ‘good’ hand slid along the twin barrels in a last attempt to pull the gun away from his neck.

  He didn’t know where it came from but, he had a moment of absolute crystal clarity. He would die in the next second; he had accepted death; was ready for it and he saw his beautiful wife and two children all dressed in black stood above him as he was lowered into the ground. All his colleagues dressed in their number one uniforms, white gloves and salutes. The police horses all decked out in their ceremonial gleaming leather harnesses and polished brasses. The Police band and its sombre, mournful tunes. He could feel himself drifting above them now, what a wonderful sight. Hundreds of people; friends, family, strangers. All there for him.

  Don’t cry my loves, you look as gorgeous as ever my Mandy, I always loved you in black, and you two little cherubs look after your mum, she’ll need you more than ever now. I’ll be there, I’ll be watching over you until we’re all together again. Don’t cry, please don’t cry. I can’t stand to watch you all crying, Bob, look after Mandy and the kids. Bob, don’t you cry as well, they need you, be strong, Please Bob, be the strong sergeant I’ve always admired, be strong for me.

  He stopped going up, he was hovering now, they were all looking up at him, could they see him? This wasn’t supposed to happen. He should be able to see them, but they shouldn’t be able to see him, what’s wrong, he was slowly falling back to earth. He was going back into the grave. The blackness was lifting; there was some brightness from somewhere. He was looking up at the bright light in the sky? The bright light, the bare light bulb without the shade. He was still in the yard.

  He looked along the barrel to the eyes staring back at him. His hand slid off the cold steel of the twin tubes. Dave had a calmness about him that he had not felt for some considerable time. He was energised with a power that he did not understand. Johnson had his forefinger on the twin triggers and slowly began to squeeze. Almost in slow motion, Dave lifted his hand and pressed his right thumb, right up to the knuckle of his hand in between the back of the two triggers and the metal of the trigger guard. Johnson began to exert more pressure, the two triggers pressed against the skin and knuckle bone of Dave’s hand. Johnson squeezed harder, the pressure on his hand increased, the triggers wouldn’t move back any further. The look in Johnson’s eyes began to change; the glassiness was replaced by a look of puzzlement, the lips changed from an evil smile to an open mouth.

  It didn’t matter how much Johnson squeezed; with his knuckle wedged in hard between the triggers and the guard, Dave was preventing the firing pin from being activated. Somewhere in his mind, the pressure on his skin and bone was immense. He didn’t feel it. His senses had been numbed to the pain during the last twelve hours. He would take whatever pain there was. He wasn’t going to die. This bastard was not going to deprive his family of a husband and father.

  ‘Big mistake you arsehole’ he said, ‘should have taken the trigger guard off when you shortened the barrels. Not such a clever bastard now eh.’

  With that, he brought his knee up hard, as hard as he could, and he felt the bone of his kneecap make contact with the soft tissue of his adversary’s balls. Johnson screamed with pain and slumped to the ground on his knees pulling Dave down with him as he hung on to the shotgun. He gasped across at his younger brother,

  ‘kill him, stick him Tony.’

  Tony was stood alongside John Walsh with the knife in his right hand. He had been transfixed by the events of the last few moments. He had watched in disbelief as the battered and broken policeman had wedged his hand behind the triggers and saw the facial expressions of his brother change dramatically from murderous evil to bewilderment and pain as he watched Dave’s knee strike his brothers’ balls with force.

  It seemed like minutes but it was only seconds as he saw his brother on the ground, still desperately holding the triggers of the shotgun, imploring him to stab the young officer.

  Dave and Tony each looked in the others eyes; they were stood no more than ten or twelve feet apart. John began to speak, but it was Dave who took charge and cut across his words. Now it was Dave who was calm. Now it was Dave doing the negotiating.

  ‘What’s it to be Tony. You can kill us both. I can’t move, your brother can’t pull the trigger and John is tied to the post. It’s up to you. You can be like your brother, a cold calculating murderer or you can walk away.’

  ‘Do it Tony, kill this piece of shite and we can both get away. I’ll do him,’ nodding towards John, ‘stick this twat and we can be on our way. Come on little brother. You can do it’.

  ‘He’s right Tony. You’re the man now. Everything that happens now is down to you. If you want to be like your brother, then kill us both now.’

  ‘I can’t do it Luke. I told you when you killed that poor old bastard with his lorry, I’m not like you, Cold blood is you; it isn’t me. You’re my
brother and I love you, but I can’t be part of this fucking madness any more. It’s over Luke.’

  He turned away towards the small wicket gate. He still had the knife in his hand. He couldn’t look at his brother any more. He needed to get out of the yard and run. Take their old van outside and just disappear. Go somewhere, anywhere.

  ‘You spineless little bastard. I’ll tell you when its over. Don’t you dare run out on me. I’ll kill you. D’you hear me, I’ll fuckin hunt you down; brother or no brother and cut your fuckin heart out. I’ll find you wherever you are and I’ll kill you.’

  Tony stopped in mid stride; he turned and ran at Luke. His eyes were wild and his own heart was thumping.

  ‘Why can’t you leave it alone; why can’t you keep your fucking mouth shut’. His fists were clenched hard and his eyes fogged over in exactly the same way as when he had glassed the punter in the pub all those years before. The heat of the moment took over once more and his anger and violence bubbled to the surface. He punched Luke twice in the right side of his chest as hard as he could. He hoped he had broken a couple of ribs, he wanted to give back some of the pain that his brother had inflicted on him over the years and the two violent blows caused Luke to cry out. He took a step back. Luke wasn’t just winded. His shirt was quickly changing colour as the bright red stain spread quickly. Tony looked down and saw the blood dripping off the end of the ten inch carving knife. He stared in horror, first at the knife, then at the frothy red blood seeping, dripping onto the concrete floor in a rapidly expanding pool. Because of the red mist, he hadn’t even realised; he was still holding the knife when he punched him.

  With each punch, he had unwittingly buried the knife to its hilt. Ten inches of steel had violently pierced the lungs and heart of his older brother and Luke was only seconds from death. There was no way back from such an injury. Even if one had been stood alongside him, no Doctor could save his big brother.

  It was as though the knife handle had suddenly become red hot, Luke dropped, almost threw the knife away as he realised what he had done. He knelt alongside his fatally wounded brother who was smiling, grimacing back at him.

  ‘Told you you could do it you little tw….’ the words trailed away as he died in Tony’s arms.

  The knife had spun away along the ground towards the post where John was tethered. He managed to kick it with his foot and bring it closer. Tony was not aware what was happening around him as he continued to cradle his dead brother in his arms.

  John quickly and quietly slid his plastic manacles down the post until he was sitting down and hooked the heel of his foot under the knife and in an awkward manner, grabbed the knife between his hands. The sharp blade cut through the plastic with no effort. He stood up and with the bloody blade in his hand, walked over to Tony.

  ‘Leave him be Tony, you can’t do anything for him now.’ John’s voice was soft; he was back in his role as hostage negotiator once more.

  Tony’s anger was spent once more. He had just killed his brother and now, he just wanted to die himself. He stood up to face John.

  ‘I didn’t mean to kill him Mr Walsh. He did deserve to die for what he has done; we both know how evil he was, but I didn’t mean it, you must believe that.’

  ‘I saw exactly what happened Tony, Dave saw what happened. We both know you are not a calculating killer. This is over now; sit down until we get sorted out here.’

  ‘Do it Mr Walsh.’ The words took John by surprise.

  ‘Come on Mr Walsh, do it. You’ve got the knife, I won’t resist you. One quick stab, that’s all it will need. Let me go with him.’

  He looked down at his brother lying in the pool of blood; lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. He walked closer to John, arms by his side.

  John, who seconds before had been holding the knife in a defensive, almost threatening manner towards young Johnson fearing that he might try to attack Dave and himself now realised that far from them being assaulted, Tony wanted to be attacked himself. He could not bear the thought of being responsible for the death of his older brother.

  ‘You know I won’t do that Tony. You couldn’t kill any one in cold blood. You know I can’t do that either. You’ve got two options here son. Sit down and wait for the arrival of the other officers or leave now. We’re both too weak to fight with you. We all know what went on here and you didn’t kill him intentionally. We will both testify to that.’

  ‘Thank you Mr Walsh but we both know; I can’t stay here.’

  He quickly spun on his heels, grabbed the BMW keys off the table in the office and kicked open the wicket gate leaving it swinging wildly on its hinges. Both Dave and John heard the spinning, screeching tyres on the damp cobbles as tony floored the accelerator and hurtled up the road.

  There was no sound for several seconds as both officers realised that their ordeal had finally come to an end. It was Dave who spoke first.

  ‘For Christ’s sake John, please be very careful when taking this noose off my neck. I’d hate to have survived all this shit only for you to blow my fucking head off.’

  Dave was trying to twist away from the open eyes of his would be assassin. The lifeless, soulless gaze unnerved him as John slowly walked towards them.

  He cut the noose with the bloody knife and Dave rolled over onto his side. He was covered in Johnson’s blood. His thumb was still jammed in behind the triggers of the shotgun. His head began to throb as the blood flowed without restriction into his brain and it took him a few seconds to fully realise that they had both survived and he was now free of his tormentor and the shotgun. He wasn’t quite free of the gun as his thumb was still jammed in behind the trigger and the fleshy part had swollen where his tormentor had repeatedly squeezed in an effort to fire.

  There was plenty of old engine oil and grease lying on the shelves of the dilapidated workshop and John took the lid off a small tin of grease and began applying it to the back of the triggers and Dave’s bruised thumb. John made doubly sure that the shotgun was safe. He put the safety catch on and pointed the barrels well away from them both. How ironic it would be for the gun to go off in their direction having survived the torture of the madman with the lifeless eyes a few yards away.

  After a few minutes of gentle teasing and persuasion, Dave’s thumb slid out from the trigger guard and instantly began to swell even more as the damaged tissue received more blood. No matter now he thought, it can balloon into a tennis ball for all I care. It’s over. John gently put the shotgun down on the table having first broken the barrel and removed the two shotgun cartridges.

  Dave tried, but couldn’t stand up, the effort of the last few minutes finally caught up with him. His legs wouldn’t respond to his brain telling him to get up. He shuffled and slid on his backside over to the wall to support his aching body. John slumped down again with his back to the post and they just looked at each other in silence.

  Now that he was starting to relax, every part of Dave’s body started to ache and cry out in pain and for the first time, he began to probe and examine his injuries.

  ‘Leave them Dave, if you take off the bandages and dressings, the blood will start to flow even more. You’ve lost enough already. You’re weak. Sit still. We’ll get you to hospital soon.’

  They had never been so thankful for the sound of police sirens getting closer and within a few minutes they could see the blue lights being reflected in the wet brick of the arches above them as vehicles began stopping outside the gates. The small wicket gate burst open as three heavily armed black clad firearms officers rushed in.

  ‘It’s ok, it’s ok;’ said John quickly, ‘we’re the only ones here.’

  The officers ignored John initially, not that they intended to, it was just procedure. It wouldn’t be the first time that officers had been lured into a trap with false information that it was safe to enter. John knew this and wasn’t bothered in the fact that the officers ensured the building was clear before calling in the other officers and ambulance staff. Dave smiled qu
ietly to himself as he recalled his sergeants’ description of hairy arsed coppers turning up mob handed. Looking at the firearms lads with their helmets, guns and bulky clothing, hairy arsed coppers would definitely fit the bill. He’d never been more pleased to see them than right at this moment.

  The emotion overcame him as he finally realised it was over. He didn’t cry uncontrollably, that wouldn’t do in front of his colleagues, but he couldn’t stop the river of tears flowing down his cheeks and he closed his eyes as his head slumped forward. The paramedics began a gentle assessment of his wounds and started treatment before moving him.

  He recognised the voice before he saw him as Bob Chambers dropped to his side.

  ‘How you doing son?’ Dave opened his eyes and saw the tears well up in his craggy old sergeants face. He smiled painfully up at him.

  ‘Fuck me boss, you look worse than me.’ He winced as the medic took the bandage off his hand to treat the mangled socket where his little finger once was. The medic looked at the old sergeant.

  ‘We need to get him into the ambulance and on the way to hospital.’ Bob stood up to give them room to get the ambulance trolley in.

  ‘Mandy will meet you at the hospital. She knows you’re ok. I’ll see you later.

  One more thing Dave, some nutter in a silver BMW has just gone hurtling off the edge of Otterspool prom into the river, all the windows were open in the car and it sank like a stone. No one got out. Think you might know who it was eh?’

  Dave nodded and looked over at John who was also getting the once over by the medics. He’d heard Bob’s words and nodded back at Dave.

  John walked over having been assessed by the medical crew.

  ‘Fancy some company in the ambulance Dave?’

  ‘I’d like that,’ came the quiet reply.