by Steve Tasane
Compo snatch it, his eyes lightin’ up all sarcastic, pinch it between finger and thumb, aimin’ the soldier’s rifle at my face. Pow! he mock me. Pow! Pow!
While he busy makin’ me the fool, my thumb hardworkin’ also. I bring my phone down, show him the picture of his fool face. While his piggy brain takin’ that in, I press a couple more buttons. Send.
Sis got that now I say. You snoop on us. We snoop on you.
He darkens. I know you’ve been dealing. Where’s the gear? Is your simple friend carrying it? Is he your mule?
Mustaph isn’t simple. I’m tirin’ of this. He just ain’t complicated. Why you thinkin’ we dealin’ anyways?
He steps forward. No choice but to edge further back.
I saw you. In the park. One minute you’re handing stuff to Mr Bush, the next minute the poor man’s on another planet.
Oh, they teach you nothin’ in policin’ class? Only planet that man on be Planet Pain. He needed a hospital, Comp. What’d you do? Drag him back here, make it all the worse for him.
What do you mean?
You wanna knock on that man’s door. Better, knock it down. Go on, call some proper police, ambulance too. I tell you, that man in trouble.
Doubt and hesitation cloudin’ his ugly mug. I help him along. Go on, Comp. You wanna help the community, man in desperate need of help right now. Number 66.
He steps back. But before he trots off, he turns around. Don’t think I’m finished with you, O’Connor he says. I’ll be having a word with your mother.
Give me strength. I notice he slipped the toy soldier into his Batman belt. Add to his toy collection. I call after him. Hey, what make you think you responsible for cleanin’ up The Finger anyways?
His chest rise and fall, like he sighin’. I notice a sadness in his eyes.
Duty he says.
And he gone.
Proboscis
Nex’ thing I know I’m slammin’ the door shut, inside our own flat – safe – breathin’ deep, suckin’ in home smell.
Con is curled up in Mum’s lap, restin’ after Play War, nappin’. He clutchin’ a Transformer like it a teddy, and his head is rested on her belly. Ain’t he too big for that these days?
Mum catch my eye. She tries a smile, but I can tell by the way her eyes gleamin’ that she been havin’ a cry. She been thinkin’ about my suspension. I open my mouth to tell her – what? Before I even form a word that gonna make any sense, she say In for the night? Too bright. Too light. She terrified of what I get up to when I’m outta her sight. But she scared of sayin’ so. We can have ice cream.
Ice cream. The only weapon she got.
She don’ mention no meat wagons, no stiffs bein’ carried out on stretchers. Maybe she hopin’ we ain’t noticed, don’ wanna be stressin’ us. Protec’ us from drugs business oozin’ roun’ The Finger. She always used to say if me or Con-Con ever dip into that stuff she goin’ to put us in a kids’ home, but kill us half dead first.
She think it drugs right now. She runnin’ scared. Don’ think straight. Think we can just ask them council bureau-cats to sort everythin’. So long as we say Please and Thanks and Yes sir three bags full sir everythin’ gonna be sweet.
She start on about the bugs predicament. She say Hey, Marshy, guess what? We’re going to sort out this bug problem once and for all. I rang Big Auntie, and tomorrow me and her are going to see the council in person. We’re going to demand they inspect the whole block, and get the lift fixed up properly this time. What do you think?
Con-Con awake now, and Mum look from one of us to the other. I ain’t givin’ no approval. Con won’t look up from his Transformer toy. I can see he’s got a bug bite on his arm. He been scratchin’.
Now. She claps her hands together. Who’s for ice cream? She puts her hand in her pocket and pushes a fiver in my direction. Marshmallow? You and Sabre can do the honours.
So tragic. Back in the day, me and the mutt wouldn’t need tellin’ twice. That dog actually know the word ice cream and immediately start runnin’ round in circles, yappin’ like a loon. There ain’t nothin’ Sabreboy likes more than an ice cream cone, ’cept a double ice cream cone with a flake. These days, I ain’t so easily diverted. My brain grown a little bit bigger than a dog’s. But I gotta think. So I play along.
All right! I break into a big, fake smile.
’Cept it ain’t entirely fake, ’cos a big tub of ice cream right now is appealin’ comfort. I’ll think better with ice cream. Day been another scorcher. Time to cool things down.
Me and Sabes gallop down the stairs headin’ straight for the local shops. Fresh air. Forget about Compo and bugs and drugs. Make ice cream be Top Priority Number One. Sabe trots on the spot when I tie him up outside. Corner shop sits in the shadow of The Finger, but it out of spittin’ distance. I hear Sabe whinin’ and frettin’ as I pay the girl, ’cos he know what he got comin’. I almost whinin’ myself. By the time I come out the shop, my dog is slobberatin’ all over the pavement.
I walk slow as I can back to The Finger, my dog runnin’ greedy circles roun’ me, tryin’ to hurry me on. Con-Con waves down at us from the balcony and I hold up the tub like First Prize I won in a race. Choc chip. We will have us a eatin’ race.
The sun is shiftin’ round to behind the block. As I’m squintin’ up somethin’ ain’t right. A shadow is movin’ around on the concrete walls. I stop in my tracks. Can’t be no shadow. There ain’t nothin’ to cast no shadow. It’s about the size and shape of a dinner plate, and movin’ around and around. But it ain’t no dinner plate, on account of that bein’ impossible. Make no sense. I’m standin’ blinkin’ up at it, ice cream tub condensatin’ in my hands, like my forehead condensatin’ sweat into my eyes. Cold sweat. See that shadow joined by a second shadow, movin’ round the same way. I see a couple more. Nex’ thing, I’m seein’ five, no, six of ’em, dark red splodges. I cup my hands round my eyes and try to focus better.
Call me simpleton if it give you satisfaction, but at this moment I am in confusion, ’cos what I’m seein’ is Mr Bush’s cushions, movin’ about on their own account, up and down the side of the tower block.
I been sniffin’ too much fume from Mustaph’s spray cans. I gotta be ’lucinatin’.
Cushions. Cushions from Mr B’s livin’ room. Cushions with legs?
You know what? Ding dong! Call the men in white coats. These be bugs I am lookin’ at. Bugs the size of rugby balls. Freeze frame. Rewind. Zoom. I am lookin’ at bugs. Like when you see ’em crawlin’ aroun’ the wallpaper in your bedroom. But these bugs ain’t right. Like I say, they – what? Foot long? Ten inches wide? Even down here I see their nasty li’l legs wigglin’ as they make their way along the wall, their suckers – what’s the word? – proboscis feelin’ aroun’ like tryin’ to sniff out hot fresh blood to suck.
Hungry bugs.
I see them gettin’ all frisky as suddenly they begin crawlin’ in one direction, headin’ towards the same balcony.
It be our own balcony, with Connor still standin’ at it. The bugs start headin’ fast, zonin’ in like they got themselves fresh scent. Connor wavin’ down at me, lickin’ his lips like he already slurpin’ this ice cream by ozzymosis. I’m focusin’ in and all of them proboscises a-twitchin’ in Con-Con’s direction like they slurpin’ him by ozzymosis.
Con! I yell up into the wind.
He don’t hear.
CON! I wave my arms, still holdin’ the ice cream tub.
He rub his belly and lick his lips, do a little dance, wagglin’ his bottom.
Bugs zonin’ in on him.
Sabretooth beginnin’ to realize something seriously messed up, and he whinin’ next to me, trottin’ from paw to paw. I start whinin’ too.
CONNNN!
I pull out my phone and call Mum. Connor too young to have one of his own.
It rings and rings. Pick up. Pick up.
Marshy says Mum, did you forget—
Grab Connor! Pull him in!
Bugs suddenly
stop dead.
What? says Mum.
Flat three floors below, three balconies along. Door slightly open. I see a flurry of movement. Bugs – as one – jerk in that direction. Movement is curtains drawin’. A figure in a dressin’ gown. A lady.
It’s Mr B’s neighbour, one who yelled at me and Mus. She all ready for bed. It when you asleep you don’t know them bugs eatin’ at you. Don’t see ’em. Don’t scratch at ’em. Asleep you is the easy prey.
Bugs suddenly sprint in that direction, a flurry of skinny bootlace legs. In seconds, they in on that balcony three floors below. On it. Dartin’ one after the other through the open door, through the gap in the curtain. Into the dark.
Hello? says Mum.
I drop the ice cream.
I run. Sabretooth look at me and look at the dropped ice cream like I am a maniac. I have to call him three times before he runs to catch up with me. Good boy. It take maximum doggie willpower to desert a whole tub of gently meltin’ choc chip.
I run up the stairwell two and three stairs at a time. I’m puffin’ and pantin’, almost ready to drop by the time I reach ours.
Mum! Mum! I dash into the kitchen and grab hold of a spatula like a fool – what am I gonna do, flip ’em to death? Chuck the spatula down, pick up the fryin’ pan. Better. Grab the bread knife. Mum! Grab a weapon! Quick! Quick!
What’s going on? She look like somebody jus’ told her the aliens have landed, which not far wrong. I point my finger at Connor. Bro, you stay here. Keep Sabre close. Watch the spaces beneath the door!
Mum has grabbed hold of the heavy-duty Megalite torch that she keep by her bed in case we ever have burglars.
Racin’ down the stairwell. Mum clamberin’ behin’ me, sayin’ What’s up? What is it? Is someone being attacked?
It’s the bugs, Mum I say. Great big killer bugs.
What?!
Hammerin’ at the door with the fryin’ pan. Open up! Open up! I turn roun’ to my mum. We gonna have to break down the door. Quick, smash it with your torch.
Mum ain’t lookin’ too certain about that idea. Ain’t lookin’ too certain about any of this. I’m kickin’ at the door like a ragin’ donkey. It open wide. Woman standin’ there, wrapped in a dressin’ gown, blinkin’ and frownin’. I dash past. My eyes dart roun’ the walls and floor. I hotfoot through to her kitchen. Clear. Swerve to the livin’ room, look behind the furniture, under the furniture, roun’ the backs of picture frames. Mum trailin’ behin’ me. Marshall, what on earth are you doing? She all apologetic to the woman in the dressin’ gown, who ain’t said nothin’.
Bedroom. Curtains drawn so I switch on the light. I expec’ to see giant bugs scatterin’ for cover. But there ain’t nothin’. I lean under the bed. Smash wildly with the fryin’ pan on account of not wantin’ to get my arm bitten off.
Marshall! Mum yellin’ at me, tuggin’ my arm. Says to the sleepy lady I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just don’t know what’s come over him. I stand back up, drop the fry pan, grab Sleepy Lady’s arms, push up the sleeves of her gown, inspectin’ her arms for giant bug bites. She don’t like this much, wakes up a bit, yells.
Mum grabs hold of my wrist where I got the bread knife still in my hand. She lookin’ at me like I a maniac. Drop the knife, Marshall she says.
I drop the knife. Sleepy Lady pick it up. She wave it at me, like it me that the threat to her further livin’ on earth. Mum holds up the torch between Sleepy Lady and me, but her eyes is fixed on my eyes even though she speakin’ to the lady. It’s all right she says. He’s not threatening you, I promise. I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry.
Sleepy Lady tighten her grip on the knife. You’re one of the boys harassing Mr Bush earlier! I’m calling the police!
I need to be doin’ some explainin’.
It’s the bugs I say. I saw them outside. The bugs are goin’ to kill you when you asleep. Goin’ to suck all your blood.
Lady fixes me with an angry look. You horror! Police! Police!
No! Mum cries. She turn to me. What is the matter with you? You’re going to end up just like your fa— She checks herself.
I look down from her dagger eyes. I get it. Mum think I’m outta control. She think my anger issues gone off like a scatter-bomb. I seen ’em, Mum I say desperately.
She grabs me by the elbow. I’m really sorry she says to Sleepy Lady again. I give up. They ain’t goin’ to believe anythin’ I say.
Mum start leadin’ me out. I’m sorry she says again. She jus’ can’t get enough apologizin’ outta her mouth. It’s humiliatin’ for the both of us.
Jus’ before she yank me outta the flat, I see Sleepy Lady got three or four bullet holes along the wall, like gangsters been here, shootin’ the place up. Blam. Blam. Blam. Don’ make no sense.
Mum draggin’ me along the hallway, hurtin’ my arm. When we get to the corner, we see Sis watchin’ us from the doorway. I pull myself outta Mum’s grip. Sis! I say. I gotta talk with you.
Mum lets me go, but she look terrified. Will you watch him for a minute? She’s lookin’ back at Sleepy Lady, who already tappin’ numbers into her phone. You see if you can’t talk sense into my boy!
Sis give Mum her sympathetic smile. Mum seems to surrender, and turns back to Sleepy Lady. Let’s calm down she says to her. Let’s talk this through for a minute.
Come Sis say to me, guidin’ me up towards her floor.
Mum turn round one last time. I want you in your bed within the hour, boy. You hear? In bed. Asleep.
You know what? I have the very best intention of stayin’ up late as I possible can. I ain’t shuttin’ my eyes ever again. Not with these bloodsuckin’ monsters crawlin’ roun’ the block.
Shut your eyes, boy, you gonna die. We all gonna die. Jus’ nobody else know it yet.
The Terrible Facts
Mum figure I’m safe stayin’ with Sis until I get myself calm down. Sis only a year older than me, but Mum ain’t stressin’ at me spendin’ time alone at her place. Sis ain’t that kind of girl.
Sis the only one of my crew with a smartphone. I got a dumbphone, has a camera, that about it. Mustaph so down, his family got one of them meters for the TV, where you put in the pound coin for 60 minutes of Britain Got Talent.
Sis one of them families in The Finger that never have any money but always has everythin’ they need. Big Auntie clever like that. I need Internet to find out ’zackly what we up against. Sis got it all on her BlackBerry.
First off, Sis demandin’ to know what’s been kickin’ off. I spill all in a mad rush. She be laughin’ first up. But I can tell it nervous laughter. Sis know me long and deep enough that I ain’t drug-crazed or bent in the head. But she saw everything kickin’ off outside Sleepy Lady’s flat.
Marsh, you ain’t been on the same gear as Soft Stuart been?
I throw her disgust. I know she jokin’, but she know me better than to even try that sort of wit. Bad enough Mum stressin’ about such nonsense.
Listen, boy, I ain’t doubtin’ what you think you saw, I swear I ain’t, but you talkin’ a tale of giant bloodsuckin’ monsters, yeah? You ain’t gettin’ nowhere without no proof.
Do you need proof, Sis?
Listen, Marshy. This girl needs proof of everythin’. You ain’t survivin’ nothin’ in this life if you jus’ accept everythin’ that thrown at you. Some days I need proof I’m even here. I believe you believe what you seen, but until I see anythin’ with eyes of my own, I ain’t believin’ nothin’, get me?
Sis always been the smartest person I know. Teachers hated her at school ’cos she used to sit and say Show me the proof. Teachers would draw her the pictures, she say Just a picture, man. How do I know you ain’t just made it up? Come on, show me the proof. Show me the proof.
Imagine bein’ a teacher havin’ to stand that all day long. They called her out for bein’ a wind-up, but thing with Sis is, she’s a hundred per cent genuine. I’m good with that.
I say You seen the bodies gettin’ carried out, yeah?
Sure. Soft Stuart. Man was a walkin’ pharmacy. Now he a lyin’-down pharmacy.
What about the other one, taken out early this evenin’. Him too? And what about Mr Bush?
What about him?
Me and Mustaph seen the bugs movin’ around in his flat. And I seen ’em crawlin’ round on the outside walls.
Didn’t realize until this minute how desperate I am to be believed.
Sis smile, ain’t risin’ to it. I gotta see proof of my own, is all. Listen, bro, if it helps, I reckoned I saw somethin’ scurryin’ around Soft Stuart’s. I was thinkin’ it must be a nasty ol’ rat. But, you know, rats … bugs…
Yes! Thank you.
Well, Sis, what we goin’ to do?
She folds her arms. Your mum already classin’ you Fool of The Finger. What do you think Big Auntie goin’ to think?
I already tried to catch one of them bugs, all it did was make Mum sore at me.
Sis give me her sweet smile. You gonna have to try a bit harder, ain’t you?
I need your assistance, Sis. I need to think like the Big Game Hunter, get me? Need to understand my foe.
That my boy. What’s your plan?
I shrug. She already on her phone, searchin’ for bedbugs so we can arm ourselves with info.
Believe, this info is ten out of ten on the Scare-o-meter.
First up Sis reads out, both male and female bedbugs feed on human blood. Right. They use our blood to shed their baby shells and grow nice new shiny ones.
I’m peerin’ down at the phone. Can’t believe how many websites there are for bedbugs.
We know that true I say. We got the bite marks remindin’ us.
Sis goes on. They breed at a phenomenal rate. Lay up to twelve eggs per day. Eggs coated with sticky substance so they adhere to the surface. Eggs hatch around ten days. Nymphs immediately begin to feed.
Hold up right there I say. What’s a nymph?
She smile at me. A little one. A baby. Says here they require a blood meal in order to moult and develop into the next stage.
Right about now me and Sis lookin’ at each other with widescreen eyes. Twelve eggs a day and them little baby nymphs feastin’ on our flesh rightaways. I itch jus’ hearin’ it.
