by Steve Tasane
Come say Sis, let us take our evidence to Big Auntie. She got first dabs on this.
As we make our way further down, we hear footsteps clompin’ behind us. We stop and turn. Nex’ moment, Compo dash down round the corner, on his own. He step up to us, lookin’ straight at me, as if he jus’ remembered he had somethin’ to tell.
He gone and changed his face, try and relax out the bully-frowns. Open his mouth, but don’ quite know what to say. I get it. He so determined to get results, impress his hero Inspector Morse, that he prepared to change tactic.
We could all work to resolve this together, you know.
I snort.
He lookin’ at me like he … pity me. He put his hands in his pockets, tryin’ hard as he can to relax his body language, like he been taught on some Community Relations seminar. Look of pity on his face deepens. I’m feelin’ my fists clenchin’ up. Don’t you look at me like that.
Kids… He tries a smile. We know you love your community…
Man is a joke.
We know you are loyal to your neighbours…
Maybe I oughta give Sabretooth the nod. Give Compo’s ankles a bit of a nip.
But some of these neighbours of yours, well, we’ve seen the result of their work up close, haven’t we? Not very neighbourly at all. Deadly concoctions being peddled on the corner. Marshall… He give me his softest look. I know you’re close to these people. You have loyalty—
Yeah, I do. Findin’ myself squarin’ up to him.
He says I was talking to your mother last night—
Don’t I say, my arm reachin’ roun’ behind my back.
She’s worried about you.
Don’t you dare.
He places his hand on my shoulder. I’m—
I jerk my arm out from behind my back, bug proboscis gripped in my fist. I jab the razor point towards his big fat gut.
You don’t talk to my mother!
I wave the schnozzle beneath his piggie chin. We can sort out our own problems, yeah? And see this, this is our proof, all we need. When my mum sees this…
Compo look down at the proboscis.
Sabretooth curl his lip, give a low snarl.
I see Sis out the corner of my eye, puttin’ a calmin’ palm towards my dog. She know better than to try and calm me the same way.
Compo lift his gaze, meet my eyes. He looks sad for me, and I hate him. I feel his fingers curlin’ round the shaft of the proboscis, him takin’ it, smooth, out of my grip. My fingers let him.
Temper, temper he whispers.
He take a step back.
I crouch down, put my hands round my dog’s neck, ruffle his fur. Let him lick at my fingers. It’s all I can do.
Compo look at what he got in his hand, and the old sly look return to his eyes. This is an offensive weapon. He shakes his head, slow, sarcastic.
Sis sighs deeply. It’s—
Don’t worry. He waves his hand dismissively. Then his eyes start seein’ it properly. What is it?
It’s—
Looks like some kind of a… he begins, but he can’t finish a sentence that goin’ to end as stupidly as …the schnozzle of a giant bug. Instead, a sneer creeps across his face and he says Looks like some kind of a … pipe? He loves that. Drugs paraphernalia. You’re carrying a bong.
Muskrat sniggers and rolls his eyes. He almos’ can’t contain his laughter, thinkin’ of them uniform boys back at the station, passin’ that proboscis round in a circle, inhalin’ like fools tryin’ to get a high.
I ain’t laughin’. Pet my dog. Let him lick every finger.
I could have you all brought in for this says Compo.
But Sis ain’t havin’ none of that. You been lookin’ for evidence about all of them ODs, yeah? Bet you ain’t found nothin’ in Mr Bush’ flat, or at Sleepy – that skinny ol’ lady’s place? She flash her twinkly smile at our local Police Community Support Officer. Well, we jus’ found this, down on the stairwell. Reckon it add to the evidence you need, yeah?
Genius Sis. She know as well as me that we go blabbin’ all about giant bugs crawlin’ up the walls, they gonna be thinkin’ we on drugs for sure. Lock us up straight away. Instead, let Comp and his cronies figure things out on their ownsome.
He thinkin’ this over. OK he say. I’ll keep it. This is probably a … vessel, yes, a vessel for the contaminated drugs. My colleagues will be very interested in this. Give it to forensics.
That pleases him. Forensics. Proper police word. He rolls it round his mouth.
Muskrat give him a snarky salute.
Comp ignores my fool friend, looks back at me. You keep out of trouble.
He marches off, jackboots clip-cloppin’ along the stairway with self-importance.
I turn to Sis. Sweet.
Only problem she say, is he just walked away with our evidence. I never even got chance to take a pic. How we gonna prove things to Big Auntie now?
Or Mum.
Rubbish
Sis don’t have nothin’ to say to me on the way up to hers.
Then, once we all sat down, comfy on cushions on her rug, cup of tea in our hands, she says You out of control, Marshall.
This is what my mum would say. I don’t answer.
Compo could have had you charged, threatenin’ him like that. You be locked up for a long time. That what you want?
Exactly like my mum.
Take us down with you, the way you was behavin’.
I’m ticklin’ my dog, space between his ears. He like that.
Muskrat look like he listenin’ intently. Hard to tell.
She goes on. Thought we was plannin’ on how to take down these bugs? Get folk to start believin’ us?
Sabes got his muzzle restin’ on my legs, chillin’. I shrug. She shrug back. She is well mad at me.
It’s your temper, innit? she say. Well out of order.
I ain’t risin’ to that. Come I say to my dog, standin’ up, let’s go.
Muskrat comes right out of his trance. Where you goin’?
Like you care.
From where she is lyin’, Sis hooks her foot around the back of my ankle. She ain’t meanin’ to trip me, but if I want to take a step I gotta lift my foot over hers. I can feel her toes through her socks, brushin’ against the back of my ankle, soft.
Marsh?
I’m not goin’ to cry. Need to turn my face.
Sis shifts her gaze down to the rug, breathes for a few seconds. I don’t know what to do. She starts talkin’. All of us got issues, ain’t we? She rubbin’ her toes against my heel, like it’s a hand restin’ on my shoulder. Like me, I didn’t believe you about the giant bugs. I’m sorry, I shoulda believed you. You’re my friend. Act like a cage wrestler half the time, but it ain’t jus’ temper, Marsh. You know that. ’Cos even though nobody believed you, you still carried on, try and do somethin’ about the bugs.
I believed him says Mustaph.
She ignores him. That’s courage, boy. We got dead folk bein’ carried out from all up The Finger. Anybody get saved, they goin’ to be saved because of you. You guarded Connor, yeah? I can feel my knuckle-dust rage tricklin’ down towards my feet. If the rest of us goin’ to keep livin’, we need you too. So don’ go gettin’ all mad and stormin’ out. She splays her fingers out, across the fluffiness of the rug. You’re bigger than that.
I don’ know what to do. Can’t think. My mind feel like the empty space on the wall, where my dad’s picture used to be.
She smile up at me. Chill, boy. Sit.
Sabreboy think she givin’ him an instruction, settles back down. I copy my dog.
So we sit in silence for a while, drinkin’ our tea, thinkin’ about how things are. No sound ’cept Mustaph blowin’ on his tea once in a while, tryin’ to cool it down.
Finally Sis says OK, we all seen the giant bugs, we convinced. Now, we got to convince others, Big Auntie and your mum espesh. We handed over our only evidence – she hurries on, before I can react – but that’s a good thing. Police w
ill be able to confirm what we up against – eventually. Once the authorities get involved, things will change. Meanwhile, we on our own. I been sendin’ messages to some of the young ones roundabout. They can generate whole heap of gossip, get folks geed up. But when night comes, whole of The Finger goin’ to come under bug attack, ’less we come up with the goods. So, what else we got?
Mustaph slowly raises his forefinger, like he in Year 3 and Sis the teacher.
Yes?
They hidin’, ain’t they.
Man, my dog can come up with better than that. Me and Sis both cross our arms, stare at him.
Them bugs hide in the spines of books, don’ they? And behind posters and ’neath mattresses.
That’s it?
Sis says That’s the little bugs, Musky. We know where they are. It’s the big ones we got to find. And a way to destroy ’em.
’Zackly. He’s lookin’ all pleased with himself. So the first step is to find them, yeah?
This goin’ to be a long plannin’ session.
He goes on. Been a hot summer, yeah? We noddin’ our heads, geein’ him to the point. Sis, what you say happen to the bugs in the hot weather?
She lean forward. They breed more regular. Their eggs hatch more quickly. They grow much bigger.
’Zackly he say again. And they hide in the dark.
Sis land her fists on his knees, all urgent. Mus, do you know where the Megabugs are hidin’ out?
Maybe he say. But findin’ out goin’ to be a highly dangerous mission.
Now both me and Sis much more animated. Where are they, Mus?
Well, see he says, the rubbish chute has been blocked for months—
The rubbish chute! Connects to every floor, stinks so bad no one’ll go near it. And dark. Very, very dark.
You’re a genius.
What do we do?
Well he sips his tea, which is now the required temperature, and lays out his masterplan. We need my night-vision goggles, boilersuit, Sabretooth’s extendible dog leash, can of Doktor Doom, and one more thing.
Mustaph’s plans are like jabbin’ forks into a plugged-in toaster.
What’s that, Mus?
A volunteer.
Safer Neighbourhood Team
You’re crazy say Sis. For starters, your dog lead ain’t goin’ to stretch all the twenty floors down The Finger.
Mus give me a look like to say that Sis the biggest simpleton in the world.
We don’ do it from the top, of course. Second-floor chute flap been broken for months. Just a gapin’ hole. We go from there.
Even so say Sis, Sabretooth’s lead ain’t gon’ take Marshall’s weight. Snap within two seconds.
Ah Mus replies, it’s special strong cable, yeah? They make these things to pull back big Rottweilers and Alsations and other such beasts.
She shakin’ her head. It’s a crazy idea. Too dangerous.
We makin’ our way down to the second floor. Sis is wrong. Sabe’s lead will hold, it’s seven metres long, and it got a break button and a lock, even a retractable control. True, that won’t retract me all the way back up, but I can jus’ hang on while they haul me. I’m more worried about the Megas. We goin’ to spray me down with Doktor Doom, put those critters off to begin with, and I’ll have a can to squirt in their faces if they get too close. But I’m also takin’ the knife that Sis used to cut off the first Mega’s snout.
In any case, I’ll only be down there for a few seconds. Jus’ long enough take a picture of ’em, use as evidence, then I’m straight back up.
Nothin’ can go wrong say Mustaph. And he the originator of the plan.
Why me? Why me be the volunteer go down and pull this stunt?
First up, Mustaph begs off, sayin’ it’s his idea, so that’s his bit done. Ain’t sure about his logic there, but let it go. I got a feelin’ if we lowered Mustaph down into the pits of the bug shaft, we might never see him again. Not with blood still flowin’ through him anyway.
And Sis? I jus’ can’t let her. We argue about it for a while. She don’t want me thinkin’ she scared of doin’ her bit. But it’s me – I started this battle, and so far I done nothin’ but jinx it up.
Who died already?
Soft Stuart.
Sleepy Lady.
Someone whose face we don’ see.
Mr Bush.
Someone else whose face we don’ see.
The littl’uns, Leo and Lola.
That’s seven Empties.
How many more we don’ know about yet?
And Sis get the evidence we need to stop this thing, what do I do? I give it to Compo. Man, I deserve to get locked up. I’m a First-Class Loser.
I started this fight. I put all the others at risk. Now it my job to finish it.
Duty.
We stop off at Mustaph’s where he got a old orange boilersuit he used for some crazy project. We give it a thorough sprayin’ with Doktor Doom, and I put it on. Then I put on the night-vision goggles.
You look like one of them captured terrorists, ’bout to be dragged into a torture room say Sis. I don’ like it. How do we know they ain’t goin’ to leap on you, chew you right up?
Come on, Sis, chill. You read all that stuff on Wikipedia. They don’ pounce. They wait until you is asleep, then creep up on you. These buglies are cowards. Anyway, we don’ know for sure they goin’ to be down there.
Mus is with me on this. They sneaks, ain’t they? Night sneaks. Hence the windows.
What windows? me and Sis say at the same time.
Windows. He shrug. That how they go about their business. Why they thrivin’ in this hot weather. On account of we all leave our windows open. He sighs. You two in need of a education. He turns to me. Marsh, when you saw their scatterin’ of bullet-hole poo, what was it nex’ to?
The window. Boy got a point. The Megas get at us by comin’ in and out of our windows. Just wish he wasn’t lookin’ at us like we was idiots. Comin’ from Muskrat, it a insult. Then I think, I spent all night tryin’ to stay awake, shinin’ my torch round all my cupboards and beneath the beds, and all I needed to have done was shut the windows. Musk is right. Pass me the dunce’s hat.
These guys is lazy says Musk, all confident. They don’ want no battle. Trust me.
Here we be, standin’ by the rubbish chute, second floor of The Finger, me with goggles, orange boilersuit, belt round my waist with a dog lead attached to it, my loyal crew at the other end of the lead.
Sabreboy starin’ at me, wonderin’ why the wrong one of us is on the end of the leash. What? They takin’ Marshall for walkies?
Me and Mus playin’ tug-o’-war with the cable, jus’ to prove how antisnappable it is. Mus ain’t got no chance in a game of tug, on account of his scrawniness. I pull him over, but Mus bein’ Mus he ain’t lettin’ go of his end, and he make me reel him in like he a big fish and I Angler of the Year.
Sis gets a strop on, says we gotta get ourselves organized.
We take our positions. Sis got the plastic handle of the lead slipped round her own belt, Mustaph got his arms wrapped round her waist, his hips diggin’ up against her bottom, like a couple of naughty doggies. Compo walk round the corner right now, ain’t none of us goin’ to live it down.
Boilersuit equipped with multiple pockets, so I got my mobile close to hand, as well as the Doktor Doom. As the man said What could possibly go wrong?
Two of them lift me feet first, face down into the gapin’ hole in the wall, look like someone done a job on a cash machine with a JCB. Stink comin’ up from the shaft so bad, no one could tell whether it be a giant bug den or jus’ months’ worth of tower-block crap. If I’m really unlucky, it be both.
Sabre is trottin’ up and down on the spot, whinin’, agitated. This way outta his comfort zone.
I shuggle my legs and my waist over the lip of the shaft, rest there on my elbows a moment, before I begin my abseil.
Goodbye to bad rubbish says Mustaph. He ain’t even funny.
Black walls
covered in slime. As I lower myself, look up, the hole I crawled through is a white square of light. I think it is the light at the end of the tunnel, and I am travelling away from it. Smell my own terror sweat, addin’ to the ripe mix assaultin’ my nose.
Slime coverin’ the walls is actually green. No, it isn’t. Mustapha’s dumb goggles makin’ everythin’ look green. I inch my way down, soles of my trainers against the wall of the shaft, keep my balance, like I’m mountaineerin’ into Hell.
Look up. White square of light shrunk down so it look no bigger than a letter box. Remind me of Mr B’s letter box, but now I’m on the same side of it as the bugs.
Leapin’. Leapin’ right at my face.
Get a grip. I can hear my own panic, breathin’ its echo round and round me. Reach for my knife – jus’ checkin’, jus’ checkin’ – throw my balance out, feet slip on the slime, whole body twizzle round the leash, my back thuddin’ against the side of the shaft. Ooph!
(Ooph!) go my echo.
Y’all right down there?
(…’own there?)
Voice from a mile away. Earth callin’ Marshall?
Marsh?
(…’arsh?)
Un-huh.
(…uh.)
I give ’em a thumbs up, forgettin’ they can’t see jack.
This is stupidity.
Pitter-pat.
No, no. Tell me I didn’t hear that. Jus’ my feet gettin’ a grip back on the wall, is all.
Pitter-pat.
Jus’ my trainers, is all.
Bend my head. Focus on the bottom of the shaft. Can’t make much out. Shapes. Junk?
I hear a ping!
High above. A clump. A—
Oh shit!
(…’hit!)
I’m fallin’, droppin’ to the bottom of the pit.
Twist myself roun’ jus’ before I hit the bottom.
Green vision plummetin’ up at my goggles. Scrunch into somethin’ soft and brittle. Snap, crackle and pop! Blackness. Whole body swallowed up. Buzzin’ in my ears.
Gasp. Insects shootin’ into my mouth. Fillin’ my nose. Scream. Hear no scream, only buzzin’. No air. No breath.
My head pullin’ itself up. Up. Feet paddin’ for solid ground, snappin’ twigs? Brushin’ old carpet. Stickiness. Upright. Filth slidin’ off of me.
