Blood Tears

by JD Nixon

  “We only have to make it through until the reinforcements arrive.”

  “If they arrive. What if something happens in Big Town and she can’t send any?”

  “Please don’t say that, Sarge.”

  He pulled up outside the school and we both sprang out.

  “Did you lock the car?” I asked as we ran towards the buildings.

  “Yep. Where does Young Kenny stay normally?”

  “Follow me.”

  It was a very small two-teacher school with a three-room schoolhouse, covered play area, outdoor playground, and the teachers’ residence at the back.

  “You go get Gretel and Mary from the house. They’re not safe,” I yelled. “I’ll round up Young Kenny.”

  “Hurry,” he urged. “I can hear them coming. We don’t have any time.”

  I ran up the stairs to the verandah running the length of the schoolhouse, but couldn’t see Young Kenny. I jumped down the stairs and ran to the covered play area, finding him huddled in a corner wrapped in his blankets, all his worldly possessions surrounding him. He turned frightened eyes to me.

  “Quick, Young Kenny. The Bycrafts are coming. We have to get you out of here.”

  He shook his head, his whole body trembling.

  “Please, Young Kenny,” I begged. “It’s not the time to be difficult.”

  He shook his head again.

  “What about if we bring all your stuff too?” I asked in despair, hearing the crowd coming closer.

  He nodded, so I frantically scooped up his stinky blankets, his food and the little knick-knacks he’d collected in his long life and virtually pushed him all the way to the patrol car. I threw all his property in the boot with little regard to whether it was fragile or not. Then I helped him into the back seat.

  The Sarge appeared, herding a terrified Gretel and Mary, opening the back door for them. They baulked at sharing a seat with Young Kenny who wasn’t know for having the highest hygiene standards.

  “Get in!” the Sarge shouted, as the first of the Bycrafts came streaming through the gates. That encouraged them to overcome their fastidiousness and pile in the back with the homeless man.

  With none of us secured by seatbelts, the Sarge performed a screeching u-turn so we were on the opposite side of the road to the school, ready to speed off if necessary.

  Spotting us, we were again subjected to a hail of assorted street gatherings – rocks, pieces of bitumen, an old shoe.

  “What are they going to do?” asked a frightened Gretel, for once not flirtatious with the Sarge.

  We watched as they swarmed over the schoolhouse, breaking windows to enter, while another bunch of them ran for the teachers’ residence. The sound of glass breaking and other sounds of destruction were clear in the still night air.

  “Oh my God,” said Mary, the other teacher. “They’re going to destroy everything.”

  “They’re going to do that to our house too.” Gretel started to cry. “All my things are there.”

  I reached over the seat to grab her hand in comfort. “It’s just property, Gretel. You can replace it. We’re more worried about your safety at the moment.”

  A glow from the inside of the schoolhouse, followed by a burst of laughter, confirmed that it was going to suffer the same fate as the police station.

  “Stupid bastards,” said the Sarge. “One of them is going to burn themselves to death.”

  “Good. I hope it’s more than one,” I said, my heart darkening with hatred.

  An explosion from inside the schoolhouse had the Bycrafts fleeing the now burning building, laughing and cheering. A building as old as the station, the schoolhouse’s dry, aged timber caught quickly.

  “Where’s Dave?” I asked, helplessly watching the flames spread rapidly.

  And as if he’d read my mind, the sole fire engine serving the surrounding district drove towards us. Probably the smallest engine money could buy, it had been partially funded by the local Council, the rest hard earned from lamington drives, fundraising barbecues, and flat out begging for donations.

  They pulled up next to us, Dave sticking his head out of the window. “Where should we start?”

  “The police station’s probably gone by now, so concentrate on the schoolhouse and teachers’ residence,” instructed the Sarge.

  As he said that, an explosion from the residence, an equally old timber building, had the two women in the back crying aloud.

  The Bycrafts, pleased with themselves, but not yet ready to stop their rampage, amassed at the front of the school trying to decide what to target next.

  Jake’s cousin, Greg, drove up then and smashed lightly into one of the gateposts of the school’s small carpark. We could hear him laughing, as he clumsily reversed, smashing into a small tree on the highway verge.

  “They’re all so drunk,” I said in despair. “How are we supposed to control them?”

  “We can’t. The best we can do is to stay safe, and to keep people safe. Property will have to come a far distant third.”

  Greg leaned out of the window. “Forget the school. That’s fucking boring. It’s fucking shopping time!”

  The others cheered loudly, and abandoned the school, running towards the shopping area, some of them jumping on to Greg’s bonnet and boot, one even on the roof, to catch a lift.

  “We have to do something, Sarge,” I implored. “We can’t just sit here while they loot the town. This is insane.”

  We slowly shadowed the mob, the Sarge having to swerve at one point to avoid running over one of the Bycrafts who’d fallen off Greg’s car. I thought he shouldn’t have bothered.

  “What will we do with these three?” the Sarge asked.

  “Take them to Abe’s pub,” I suggested. “Apart from the glass doors, it’s fairly secure. Perhaps that can be our rescue point.”

  “It will have to do.”

  He drove off at speed and we spent a precious few minutes hustling our rescues out and into the welcoming arms of Abe. A few of the other townsfolk had already taken shelter at the pub, afraid of the rampaging Bycrafts.

  We drove back to the shopping district. Chaos had erupted in the main shopping street when the rest of the Bycrafts arrived. They ran wild, smashing windows in the shops, stealing anything they could carry out.

  “I can’t stand watching this,” I said, itching to act. “I’m getting out.”

  “Tess, no.”

  “Sarge, look at them – they’re splitting up. We can take them one by one. Crack a few heads, convince them to go home. Even if it’s just a few, that’s a few less out on the street. Come on. This is what we’re paid for. We’re not paid to sit in our car and watch while all hell breaks loose. I’m not letting these bastards get away with wrecking my town.”

  “All right, but we’re retreating the second it becomes dangerous. Do we understand each other about that?”

  “Yes,” I agreed impatiently. “Let’s go.”

  We burst into the first store, the pharmacy, startling the three teens inside busy pilfering cosmetics, non-prescription drugs, and trying to break open the register.

  “Out!” yelled the Sarge.

  One of them, Larissa, threw a large bottle of perfume at me clipping me on the side of the head. I felt the slow ooze of blood start its way down my temple.

  Enraged, I rushed her, knocking her flying, flipping her over on to her back and twisting her arms behind her. I dragged her to her feet and frogmarched her to the broken front door and shoved her outside.

  “Get on home now, Larissa,” I ordered, furiously swiping the blood across my cheek.

  “Fuck off, piglet,” she scorned, running off as fast as she could being pregnant, flipping me the finger as she did.

  The Sarge had the other two by the scruff and thrust them outside, giving them an equally pointless warning to head on home.

  We moved on to the next shop and repeated the operation, both sustaining minor injuries from various projectiles in the process. By the time w
e’d finished evicting the intruders in the third shop, we noticed Bycrafts climbing through the doorway of the pharmacy again.

  We tried for ten more unsuccessful minutes to make anyone take us seriously. We regrouped, both of us sporting more than a few war wounds and exhausted from the effort.

  “This is hopeless, Tess,” the Sarge panted, blood trickling from one of his nostrils where he’d grappled with Garth. “The second we move them on from one shop, they’re back in another.”

  I stood in the middle of the chaos, hands on my hips, trying to catch my breath. I gazed around me in desperation, trying to think of a plan that would work. And then I spotted my holy grail – the answer to our problems.

  Without a word to the Sarge, I sprinted across the road, surprising Lola by throwing my arm around her neck and putting my gun to her forehead.

  “Tess!” the Sarge yelled at me. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Listen up, Bycrafts!” I shouted and waited until I had some of their attention at least.

  “Let me go, piglet whore,” Lola spat through her cigarette. I encouraged her to remain silent by choking her a bit harder.

  “We are going to arrest Lola.”

  “What for, bitch?” demanded Rosie, her arms full of chocolates from the grocery store.

  “Suspicion of arson. The Sarge and I saw her at the police station, and I will swear on a Bible that I saw her set it on fire,” I said.

  “That’s a fucking lie, and you know it,” said Rick, his fists clenching and unclenching with anger.

  “We’ll set her free if you all go home now. And I mean now. We’re going to park the patrol car at Lola’s house and we’re going to check you all off a list. And when you’re all home again, we’ll let Lola out.”

  “What a fucking stupid plan,” sneered Rosie, and I had to admit that I kind of agreed with her. It was a stupid plan, but it was our only plan.

  “What if we just fucking refuse?” asked Jade.

  “Then we’ll drive Lola to Big Town tonight to have her formally charged.”

  I let that sink into their low-voltage brains for a few minutes. I’ll admit it wasn’t much of a trump card, but the Bycraft clan were deeply protective of Lola, who’d taken on the mantle of matriarch since all the older male Bycrafts were either dead or incarcerated.

  “She’ll probably end up going to jail,” I bluffed, to increase the menace of my threat.

  “Come on,” spat Rosie. “That bitch is crazy enough to do this to Mum and to ruin Denny’s wake.”

  “Make her pay for this,” croaked out Lola through my strongarm.

  “Oh, she’s going to fucking pay for it, don’t you worry about that, Mum,” said Rick, looking at me with an expression of pure loathing.

  “Good boy, Ricky,” Lola croaked before I increased my pressure on her throat and she was no longer able to say anything.

  I shuffled over with Lola to the patrol car. Not looking too pleased with the situation, nevertheless the Sarge opened the back door and we shoved Lola inside.

  We drove to Lola’s place and parked out front, ignoring the constant stream of foul language and banging on the divider from the back seat. I took out my notepad and started writing down the names of all the Bycrafts as they straggled back to her place, each of them giving us the finger as they approached, and more than a few hurling something at the patrol car as well.

  “I don’t like this plan,” the Sarge said bluntly.

  “It’s working, isn’t it?” I snapped back.

  “For now, but what’s to stop them rioting again when we let that harridan in the back out?” queried the Sarge in a terse tone that let me know he wasn’t in full approval of my unorthodox approach.

  “We’ll keep hold of her until the backups arrive. Then we’ll let her go. Or not.”

  “Tess, are you planning on double-crossing them?”

  “Why the hell not? We can’t trust those bastards, so why should they expect us to be trustworthy?”

  “You are setting up a whole world of pain for yourself,” he said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in contained anger.

  “No, I’m not. Because after tonight, the Super is going to have to do something about the Bycrafts. She can’t ignore them anymore. Nobody can get away with burning down a police station. Nobody.”

  I ticked off a few more Bycrafts as they straggled in. From the direction of the shops, a burst of flame following an explosion startled us.

  “Great. They’re going to burn down all the shops as their finale.” I got on the phone to Dave, telling him to urgently divert his resources from the school to the shops. At least he and his fellow volunteer firies might have a chance of saving some of the shops. The schoolhouse was probably a lost cause.

  After about an hour, I’d ticked off most of the Bycrafts, the last being Rick, Garth, and Mark. We received the obligatory finger from them all and one of them threw a projectile, possibly a brick, at the rear window of the patrol car, shattering it, making Lola screech in fright.

  “The rest of them are probably sleeping it off somewhere,” the Sarge said. He rang the Super to be told the backups were almost with us.

  I looked down at my list with real sadness. “I haven’t ticked off Jakey yet. Did you see him anywhere tonight?”

  He gave me a long, evaluative look. “No. But there were so many of them milling around, it was hard to keep track of anyone. Perhaps he’s with that woman.”

  “Dorrie? Perhaps.” The bitterness of that particular humiliation swamped me again.

  We waited until we received notice from the Super that she’d arrived with the backups. We drove off, angering the Bycrafts who came swarming out of Lola’s house, hurling things at the patrol car. At the shops, we drove past Dave and his guys busy battling the fire.

  “How’s it going?” the Sarge yelled out the window.

  “I think we can save most of them,” he spared a second to shout back, before returning to work.

  Four patrol cars and the Super’s unmarked were parked around the entrance to the still burning police station. The acrid smell of scorched timber hung heavy in the air.

  “Fucking hell,” said the Super when we stepped out, rubbing her forehead as if she had a massive headache. “Look at you two. You look as though you’ve been fucking cage fighting with an angry bear with PMS. Shitfuck, look at your car. It’s a wreck. Fuck. Those turd-drops in the city aren’t going to like this.”

  “Can we hand over Lola to someone else, ma’am? She’s kind of our hostage for keeping the Bycrafts at home,” I asked, suddenly weary.

  “I don’t even want to know the details about that batshit crazy plan, but I just know it was you who came up with it.” She turned to a male and female uniform. “Hey, you two! Stop picking your arses, and get this bitch out of the rear. And keep a closer eye on her than you do on each other’s herpes.”

  While those two unfortunates wrangled a struggling and foul-mouthed Lola from our car to theirs, the Sarge gave the Super a brief rundown of events. She listened without comment, her eyes flicking from him to me, and back.

  “This is a class A clusterfuck, isn’t it?” she commented when the Sarge had finished.

  “Yes, ma’am, isn’t it?” he replied frostily. “If we’d had those extra uniforms as we’d –”

  “Not one more fucking word, Maguire,” she warned, one finger up. “We can autopsy this balls-up later when it’s sorted.”

  “We did what we could, ma’am,” I said defiantly.

  She stopped and her face softened for such a brief moment that I thought I imagined it. She cupped her hand against my blood-smeared cheek for a second. “I know you did.”

  Just then, a crowd of Bycrafts came rolling down the street, clearly furious with the Sarge and me for not keeping our promise to release Lola. It was almost comical to see them double-take on noticing the extra patrol cars, turning tail and fleeing.

  “You stay here and watch your prisoner,” the Super said to
the uniforms with Lola. “The rest of you follow that crowd and stay outside their house until I give you other directions. Tessie, give them a mud map to the old bat’s house.”

  That took five seconds. It was impossible for them to get lost because there weren’t that many streets in town.

  It was then that I noticed the plume of smoke in the distance, and my heart started racing double-time.

  “Take me home,” I said to the Sarge urgently.

  Seeing the look on my face, he wasted no time and we were soon speeding southwards. I sat upright, so tense that I would have snapped in two if someone had tried to bend me.

  We got closer to my house and my worst fears were realised.

  My house was on fire.

  Chapter 37

  “No!” I cried out, jumping out of the car before the Sarge had even stopped, stumbling and rolling when I did.

  The blaze was fierce, flames licking up half as high as the house itself.

  “Dad!” I screamed, running towards the burning building.

  “Tessie, no!” the Sarge shouted, sprinting after me.

  I didn’t hear him, all my focus on saving Dad and Adele, trapped inside the inferno.

  “Tessie, you can’t go in!” the Sarge shouted, desperately chasing after me.

  He crash tackled me to the ground, his arms around my calves. I landed hard, arms out, face smashing into the ground.

  “Let me go!” I cried, wriggling on the grass using my forearms, trying to escape his grip. “Let me go!”

  “You can’t go in, Tessie. It’s too late.”

  “No!” I insisted, tears pouring down my face. “It’s not too late. Let me go, you stupid bastard.”

  I twisted around, and punched him in the face, freeing one leg to kick him in the stomach. He winced but didn’t slacken his grip. He moved up my body, almost belly flopping on me, forcing all the air out of my lungs. I struggled fiercely beneath him, trying to push him off, trying to punch him again, but he grabbed my arms and pinned them to the ground. I bit his shoulder and tried to head butt him, wriggling desperately beneath him. But after a few minutes of unproductive fighting, eventually my strength waned and I lay beneath him, spent.