The Rule

by David Jackson

  He worked his jaw, not knowing what he should say instead. He thought he was saved when the lift halted suddenly.

  But that’s when it all went wrong.

  Later, he would delve into chaos theory without even knowing he was doing so. He would wonder about how things could be so finely balanced that the most inoffensive of words, the briefest of glances, the tiniest lapse of concentration could alter lives so profoundly and irreversibly. A touch that could start an avalanche.

  Perhaps it wasn’t the jolt of the lift stopping – perhaps it would have happened anyway – but it was in that moment that the strap on the man’s backpack came loose, and the bag slipped from his shoulder and fell to the floor and the flap flew open and some of the contents spilled out and Scott saw the plastic bags of white powder and the wads of money and the semi-automatic pistol.

  ‘Fuck!’ the man said as he squatted to retrieve his possessions.

  Scott looked away. He saw that Daniel wasn’t looking away but instead staring wide-eyed at the items, and he thought, No, Daniel, look at me, not him, don’t see those things, don’t say anything, and why the hell aren’t these doors opening, why can’t we get out of—?

  The doors opened.

  Scott grabbed Daniel by the wrist and pulled him into the corridor. He wanted to move faster, but Daniel was dragging his feet, his eyes still on the man. Scott pulled harder, his own gaze on the fire doors ahead.

  ‘Wait!’

  Scott halted.

  Shit.

  The man followed them out of the lift, walked directly up to Scott and locked eyes with him. ‘What did you see?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Scott said. ‘I didn’t see anything.’

  ‘Right answer.’ He turned to Daniel. ‘What about you? What did you see in the lift?’

  Say what I said, Scott willed. For once in your life, tell a damn lie.

  ‘I saw my dad, and I saw you, and I saw some money and a gun.’

  Shit, shit, shit.

  The man moved into Daniel’s personal space. ‘Have you got a fucking death wish or something? I’ll ask you again, dickhead. What did you see?’

  Daniel seemed puzzled, but then his face brightened.

  ‘Oh yeah. You’ve got some bags of white stuff in there too.’

  Scott hastened forward. ‘He doesn’t understand. He’s got learning difficulties.’ As soon as the words left his mouth, he hated himself.

  The man gave him a withering look. ‘I’m not asking him to win the Nobel Prize. I just want to know if he can keep his mouth shut.’

  ‘He will. He won’t tell a—’

  ‘Shut it.’ He turned to Daniel again. ‘So what about it? What’re you going to say if anyone asks about me?’

  Daniel looked helplessly at his father.

  ‘It’s okay, Daniel. Just tell him what he wants to hear, and then we can go home.’

  ‘Yeah, Daniel,’ the man said. ‘You heard him. Tell me.’

  ‘Tell you what?’

  ‘Tell me what I’ve got in this fucking bag.’

  Daniel looked again at his dad, and then at the man. ‘I don’t know,’ he said.

  The man nodded. ‘That’s more like it. Now you’ve—’

  ‘I didn’t see everything. I only saw the money and the gun and the white stuff.’

  Scott moved forward again. He said, ‘Look, he’s not being funny with you. He doesn’t know how to lie, that’s all. He’s not going to talk to anyone about this.’

  And then he made the mistake of putting his hand on the man’s shoulder.

  The man whirled and slapped Scott’s hand away.

  ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

  Scott stepped backwards, but the man followed, jabbing Scott in the chest.

  ‘What kind of fucking game are you two trying to play?’

  ‘No game,’ Scott protested. ‘We just want to go home, okay? Leave now, and we won’t say a thing.’

  ‘I know you won’t, because you’ll be dead in a fucking ditch if you do. Do you understand?’

  Scott nodded furiously.

  ‘And what about the fucking retard over there?’

  Even for Scott, who had heard every insult invented, the word sent shockwaves through his body. It pressed a button within him that electrified his limbs. He lashed out, pushing the man away.

  ‘Don’t call him that!’ he yelled. ‘He’s my son!’

  But the man was already shaking his head and clenching his jaw and bunching his fists and advancing towards Scott. There was a glint in his eye that told Scott he was about to show no mercy and he was going to enjoy it, and Scott tried to ready himself for a fight that he knew he wasn’t going to win, and he wondered what it would be like to have broken teeth and bones, and he could feel his legs turning to jelly and his chest panting for air, and he hoped that he could at least put on a decent show in front of his son before ending up in hospital . . .

  And then the man was gone.

  He was whisked off his feet as if by a whirlwind, and that whirlwind was Daniel, who now had a meaty hand clamped around the man’s neck and was pushing him further and further up the drab grey wall and saying through his tears, ‘Leave my dad alone, leave my dad alone, leave my dad alone . . .’ And as the man’s dangling legs twisted and kicked out for purchase, Scott grabbed his son’s arms and yelled at him to stop, stop it now, Daniel, put him down . . .

  When the message finally penetrated, Daniel obeyed his father and released his grip, and the man fell in a heap on the floor. Scott went to the man as Daniel retreated, whimpering, to a window in the corner of the gloomy corridor, but it was obvious even to Scott’s untrained eyes that nothing could be done, that even such a small fragment of time was impossible to reverse.

  The man was dead.

  5

  Scott had never seen a corpse before. For some reason he had expected them to look like they were sleeping, and was shocked at how wrong he’d got it. He wasn’t sure he could explain it to anyone in words, except to say that there was an absence, an emptiness to the body that could never be detected in someone still clinging on to life. What lay before him was just a shell, its previous aggression now completely wiped away.

  ‘Is he dead?’ Daniel asked. ‘Is he like Perry?’

  Scott didn’t answer. He was trying to think.

  I should call the police, he thought. Police and also ambulance, just in case he isn’t really dead, even though I know he is. That’s what you do in situations like this. When you get in a fight and someone drops dead at your feet, you can’t run away from it. You have to face up to it and call in the experts, let them sort it out.

  And yet . . .

  Other thoughts were intruding, complicating the situation, muddling his brain. Thoughts that began with ‘But what if . . .’

  Adrenaline was flooding his system. There was a time pressure here. At any moment, someone else might appear and then it would be too late, the decision would be taken out of his hands.

  ‘Dad, is he—’

  ‘Come here.’

  ‘W-What?’

  ‘Come here, Daniel. We need to move him. Pick him up for me.’

  Daniel shrank further into his corner. ‘I don’t want to pick him up.’

  ‘Daniel, please. We need to—we need to get help for him.’

  It was a lie. The man was beyond help. He was no longer Scott’s number-one concern.

  The lie did the trick. Chewing one of his fingers, Daniel shuffled over. He stared down at the body.

  Scott clapped his hands to emphasise the urgency. ‘Now, Daniel. Pick him up.’

  Daniel bent down, scooped up the corpse like it was a large pillow. The dead man’s head drooped and his tongue lolled out of his open mouth. Daniel looked down at it with distaste and fear.

  ‘He is like Perry. Perry’s tongue did that too.’

  ‘This way, Daniel. Move.’

  Scott picked up the man’s backpack, then opened the fire doors and ushered his
son through. As they passed each apartment, Scott willed its inhabitants not to appear.

  They reached 1204. Scott dug out his keys and unlocked the door. ‘Go in, Daniel. Hurry!’

  As Daniel headed inside, Scott took one last look along the corridor. There was no sign of anyone. No obvious indicators that a killing had just taken place.

  He closed the door. Daniel was still in the hallway, clearly wondering what on earth he was supposed to do with the corpse he was carrying.

  ‘Bring him in,’ Scott told him. ‘Put him on the sofa. That’s it.’

  Scott put the man’s backpack down on the floor, then took off his own and tossed it across the room. He wiped sweat from his brow and tried to breathe again. Tried to gather his thoughts.

  ‘Scott?’

  Gemma. Coming in from the bathroom.

  ‘What’s going on? Who the hell is that?’

  He turned to see her pointing, her expression a mixture of puzzlement and worry.

  Scott turned to his son. ‘Daniel, go to your room, please.’

  ‘Dad, I—’

  ‘Now, Daniel. Please.’

  ‘Scott,’ Gemma said again. She was still staring at the occupant of her sofa. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

  ‘Daniel,’ Scott said.

  Daniel sloped off to his room. As he went, Scott held up a finger to Gemma, advising her to wait a moment. After Daniel’s bedroom door had been shut, Scott closed the living-room door too.

  Gemma had moved closer and now had a hand to her mouth. Her gaze was locked in disbelief and horror on the unwanted guest.

  ‘Scott, who is this? What’s wrong with him? Is he drunk? A druggie?’

  Scott went to her, put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Gemma, listen to me . . .’

  Her eyes searched his face, and he could see fear there now as the truth began to seep in.

  ‘What?’ she said. ‘What?’

  ‘He’s dead.’ He felt he should offer more, but all he could do was repeat himself. ‘He’s dead.’

  Gemma glanced at the unmoving figure. ‘I don’t understand. What do you mean, he’s dead? Why have you just put a dead man on our sofa?’

  Scott struggled to find the right answer. It was such a simple concept and yet so difficult to do it justice with mere words.

  ‘Oh, God, Gemma . . .’ He began to cry.

  ‘Scott, stop it!’ she yelled. ‘Explain this to me! What the hell is going on?’

  ‘He . . . he attacked me. When we got out of the lift. And . . . and Daniel . . .’

  ‘Daniel what? What about Daniel?’

  ‘Daniel was trying to protect me. He came to my rescue, and . . . and . . . and he killed him.’

  ‘Killed him? What do you mean, Daniel killed him? How did he kill him?’

  ‘He didn’t mean to. He grabbed him. By the neck. And that was it. It wasn’t his—’

  ‘Scott, stop. You’re going too fast. I don’t understand any of this. Why . . . why did you bring him in here?’

  ‘He’s . . . I don’t know . . . I thought maybe . . .’

  ‘Thought what?’

  ‘I don’t know. I panicked. It seemed the right thing.’

  ‘How? How could it possibly be the right thing? What were you thinking?’

  She pulled away from Scott and moved closer to the body. She started to reach a hand out towards the man’s face, then withdrew it.

  ‘You’re sure he’s dead?’ she asked.

  Scott simply nodded. He could tell she was in no doubt of it herself.

  Gemma took a deep breath and let it out again. ‘Then there’s only one thing we can do. We have to call the police. You need to explain to them exactly what happened.’

  Scott shook his head. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘What do you mean, you can’t? The man is dead, Scott. We have to tell someone.’

  ‘It’s not that simple.’

  Something dawned on Gemma then. Her face changed, filling with dread.

  ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Why isn’t it that simple, Scott? You said the man attacked you, and that Daniel saved you. He did attack you, didn’t he?’

  Scott hesitated. ‘Kind of.’

  ‘Kind of ? What does that even mean? What happened, exactly?’

  ‘He pushed me. And then I pushed him back.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘That was it. He started coming towards me again, but Daniel stopped him.’

  Gemma lowered her head and took another deep breath.

  ‘Please tell me I’m missing something here. He pushed you? How? How did he push you? Was he trying to throw you down the stairs or out of the window? Or was it a push like this?’ She thrust a hand into his chest, and Scott got the feeling she was doing it for more than demonstration purposes – that she really did want to vent some of her frustration on him.

  ‘Yes, more like that.’

  ‘And then you shoved back at him.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Like two fucking kids in a playground? Is that what you’re telling me? Two immature boys getting a bit rough with each other and then suddenly it turns into World War Three? What the hell, Scott? What the fucking hell?’

  ‘You don’t understand. He was threatening us. He had a gun.’

  She blinked. ‘A gun? Un-fucking-believable. And at what point were you planning to let me in on this crucial piece of information? He pulled a gun on you?’

  ‘Not exactly. It was in his bag. He dropped his bag and we saw it. That’s how the argument started. He wanted us to promise not to say anything, but Daniel being Daniel . . .’

  Gemma thought for a moment, then turned and walked away. She picked up her mobile phone from the table next to the sofa.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Scott asked her.

  ‘I’m calling 999. They need to sort this mess out.’

  He moved towards her. ‘No.’

  ‘Scott, we have a dead body on our hands. You can’t hide something like this.’

  ‘I . . . I’m not trying to hide anything. I just want us to think about our options.’

  ‘What options? We don’t have any options. What’s happened has happened.’

  She began to raise the phone again, but Scott grabbed her wrist. ‘No!’

  She stared at him.

  ‘No,’ he said again. ‘Think about Daniel.’

  ‘I am thinking about Daniel. This was just a tragic accident. The police will understand that when you explain it to them.’

  ‘Will they?’

  ‘Of course they will,’ she said, but Scott could already hear the doubt. ‘This guy was up to no good. He had a gun, for Christ’s sake. And Daniel is . . . well, they’ll understand. Daniel doesn’t have an evil bone in his body. He was just trying to protect his dad.’

  Scott shook his head. ‘They’ll crucify him, and you know it.’

  ‘No. Why do you say that?’

  ‘Do I have to spell it out? Two blokes name-calling and pushing each other. You said it yourself: like kids in a playground. And then along comes this much bigger kid and snaps the neck of one of them. Does that sound like a reasonable response to you?’

  ‘Not reasonable, no. But reason doesn’t apply in Daniel’s case. He’s not like most people. They’ll treat him as a special case.’

  A wave of immense sadness suddenly overwhelmed Scott. In a shaky voice he said, ‘I’ll tell you what will happen. The police will come here, and when we tell them what happened they’ll arrest Daniel because they’ll have no other choice. And it won’t matter how much we try to reassure Daniel, he won’t understand. He will hate being touched, because it breaks The Rule, and there’s a good chance he’ll lash out, and maybe an officer or two will get hurt, and then they’ll get rough with him. Maybe they’ll taser him or something – I don’t know.’

  ‘Scott, no. It won’t be as bad as—’

  ‘They’ll put him in a cell, and they’ll question him endlessly, and they’ll bring us in for questioning too. Daniel will be afraid
– more afraid than he’s ever been in his life – but the one thing we can be certain of is that he will tell the truth. Even if we ask Daniel to say that the man put a gun to my head, Daniel won’t play that game. He doesn’t know how to. He will tell the police exactly what he saw and did.’

  ‘But surely that won’t matter? His difficulties are all on record. They’ll realise that he didn’t—’

  ‘What they’ll realise, Gem, is that he’s a danger to those around him. Doesn’t matter what was going through his head, if he poses a risk to the public they’ll lock him up.’

  ‘They wouldn’t put him in prison. Not someone with his problems.’

  ‘Happened before. “Diminished responsibility” they call it in court. They’ve still ended up in jail. I looked it up last time.’

  ‘Last time? What do you mean, last time?’

  ‘Well, that’s the other thing, isn’t it? Daniel’s got form.’

  ‘He hasn’t got form. Stop talking about him as though he’s some kind of hardened criminal.’

  ‘He killed Perry, didn’t he?’

  ‘That wasn’t his fault. The stupid dog went for him.’

  ‘That’s not what the owners said. They said he was just being playful.’

  ‘Daniel wasn’t to know that, was he? Whose side are you on, anyway? They got a new puppy out of it, didn’t they?’

  ‘And then there’s Ewan Rogers.’

  ‘Ewan was a bully. He deserved a good smack.’

  ‘A smack, yes. But a broken arm?’

  ‘I’ll ask you again: whose side are you on?’

  ‘Ours, of course. I’m just trying to show you what others will say. Can you imagine what will happen if this goes to court? They’ll all come out of the woodwork. They hated us at the old place. They were practically on the verge of forming a lynch mob. I thought we’d managed to escape from all that, and now . . . and now . . .’

  The stress of it all became too intense and tears formed again. Gemma came to him.

  ‘Do you really think it would be that bad?’

  ‘I don’t know, Gem, I really don’t. Maybe that’s just a worst-case scenario. But even if they didn’t put him in prison, they’d probably want to put him somewhere secure.’

  ‘You mean like a mental hospital?’