I went on like that, laying it all out for her and trying not to miss anything. And she seemed to take it well. She sat nice and quiet and listened, appreciating the effort I were putting into it, I reckoned. And then I stopped, and it were her turn. Her turn to tell us how fucking surprising it all were and she couldn’t take it all in and thank you so much Blake for setting us straight, that is. But that weren’t what happened.
You know what she said?
She says: ‘Oh…right.’ And she smiled a bit and all. A thin smile that never touched her eyes. But that were down to me, like as not. I’d messed up a bit, hadn’t I. Dumped too much on her brain in one go. ‘So you’re not comin’ then?’
I smiled and shook me swede. She were catching on.
She looked at the engine in front of us for a bit. The sun were creeping into the garage, touching up the dark greasy metal with a few drops of white gold. It made you squint to look at it. Then she had another one-handed rummage in her rucksack. ‘Here,’ she says, turning to us, face set like a mask. She held out a pistol. ‘If you stays in Mangel you’ll need this.’
I took it and turned it over and over in me hands. Looked like a new un. Not that I’d seen many old uns. Nor new uns neither. Guns is seldom seen in Mangel, less you’re a farmer or a member of the Munton clan. Just ain’t much call for em. Plenty of aggro takes place, but folks is happier using fists and heads. And blades. And coshes.
No, can’t say as I’d ever coveted a firearm. Never liked the idea of em. Takes all the fun out of things, don’t it. But now I had one in my hands, well…‘Fuckin’ smart,’ I says. ‘Loaded, is it?’
‘Aye. Here…’ She showed us how to flick the safety and get to the chamber. Then she got a little box of bullets out of her bag. Or shells as she called em. There couldn’t have been much left in that rucksack of hers. ‘Hold it like this, see. An’ use both hands. Till you gets used to it anyhow.’
I took it and aimed at an old beer can out in the yard. I didn’t fire it, mind. I weren’t that barmy.
‘Blake?
‘Fuckin’ smart.’
‘Blake, you knows why I’m givin’ you this, right?’
I had a go at spinning it on me finger by the trigger guard, like they does in cowboy films on telly. It weren’t as easy as you might think. A real pistol’s a lot heavier than a pretend one, for starters.
‘Blake?’
It occurred to us that acting like a cowboy weren’t too clever. So I packed that in. For some reason Lee Munton’s words of advice on how to handle a firearm were coming back to us. Never point it at someone you’d rather not shoot, he’d said. Don’t rest your finger on the trigger. Keep it unloaded till you’re ready to use it.
‘Well, I’ll be off then, Blake.’
I opened her up and took all the shells out of her, rolling em around in the palm of my hand. They didn’t look like they’d pass through a man’s chest and chalk him up dead. Truth were I couldn’t wait to try it out. On a tree. Maybe a cat. Dog perhaps. I put the bullets in one pocket and the pistol in the other.
‘Mand?’ I says. ‘Mand? Where you off?’ She had the door up and were halfway across the yard before I caught up with her. ‘Mand? Where you headed? Want a lift?’
‘Best I walk. I wanna feel meself walkin’ away. I’ll get a bus at Furzel and go on from there.’
‘Well…want us to walk with you for a bit?’
‘No. Bye, Blake.’
She kissed us. We had a long kiss. But when she pulled away it didn’t feel like it had been so long.
I stood in the yard and watched her disappear up the alley, her little rucksack slung across her shoulder. She were only a little girl really, and she didn’t have a hope. Part of us wanted to go with her. But you knows about that part by now. It weren’t very big and it didn’t have much say. So I went back into the garage.
Luckily she’d left her fags behind, so I smoked em while I bided me time. It were risky for us now, see. On top of me not being welcome in Norbert Green at the best of times, I now had the hardest family in Mangel after us. That’s how I reckoned it anyhow. I’d lost track of what were what, to be honest and fair. I knew I’d done some things that wouldn’t sit well with a few folks, but I had to think hard to recall exactly what they was. And even then I’d leave a few bits out like as not, my mind being the way it were right then.
But there were one thing sitting shiny and solid behind my eyelids whenever I closed em. A thing that I couldn’t forget, even if forgetting’s what I wanted for it. It were the answer to everything, see. That’s how it looked from my angle anyhow. What were that thing, you asks?
The box, course.
The fucking doofer.
Only I didn’t know who had it now. A smoker with arms and legs and hair, by the sounds of it. Regals, he’d said. Plenty of folks smokes Regals. Can’t say I goes for em meself. Too short, for starters. But there’s no accounting for other folks’ taste. Who the fuck smokes Regals that I knows? Only one person I could think of. And it couldn’t be…nah. Unless…
I stubbed me fifth fag and got up. My hand were on the door to pull it up when I heard the noise outside. Someone out there. Two of em. Three, perhaps.
They wasn’t saying much. Mostly grunts and swearing. But they didn’t sound too happy about things in general. I looked around for a stick or summat to protect meself with, but there were nothing but the big engine, and that were too heavy even for a big feller like meself. But I were fretting unduly as it turned out. Sounded like they was opening up the next garage along. And once inside they shut it.
I stayed put. Best to wait a bit before chancing it. And besides, I were feeling nosy. Summat about it weren’t right. Why would they be shutting emselves up in one of them manky old lock-ups this time of morning?
I walked along the wall, looking for the spot where sound carried best. Most building work in Mangel is done by the same firm, see, and every bastard knows their habit of splitting the odd breeze block down the middle and calling it two. Another little trick they do is to mix up too much sand with the cement, so here and there the mortar crumbles away, giving you gaping holes in the wall. And that’s what I found near the middle of this un. I looked through it. The gap were about three inch high and half a one across. And through it I saw the top of Lee Munton’s shaven swede.
And heard his voice: ‘All right, Jess. Take it off.’ For a bit all I heard were slow footsteps and heavy breathing. Then someone were gasping, like he’d been underwater too long. Then someone else spoke, someone I couldn’t see.
Our Finney, none less than.
17
‘You can’t scare us,’ says Fin, still gasping. But you could tell in his voice he were already cacking himself. ‘Whatever you does to us…you…you’ll get back ten times more worser. Aye, Blake’ll find out an’…’
‘An’ what, eh?’ I could see the spit flying off Lee’s lips. ‘What’ll Blakey boy do when he finds out?’
There were nothing for a while. Nothing but breathing and background hum of farflung folk going about their business. Then Finney says: ‘He’ll kill you.’
‘How’s that ten times worser than what we’ve got planned for you?’
‘All right, maybe not ten times. Worser though.’
‘But you dunno what we’ve got planned, do you.’
‘Aye, but I knows Blake an’ he’s me mate an’…an’ whatever you does he’ll find out an’—’
‘Show him, Jess.’
Finney’s heavy breathing filled the silence for a bit, then, with a final gasp, stopped. I tried to bend my eyesight round the corner to see what Jess were up to. But bending your eyesight had never worked for us, and it weren’t working now.
‘What you reckon now, eh?’ says Lee. I could see his meaty face grinning down at where Finney must have been reclining. ‘Reckon Blake could do ten times worser than Susan?’
Jess came into view. He were circling Lee and Fin, holding Susan out in front of him. Susan, as it turned
out, were a chainsaw. A fucking big old chainsaw with nasty teeth.
Things was silent for a bit. When Lee spoke his voice came over all booming, though he were talking no louder than before. ‘Got summat to say now, Fin? This’ll be yer last chance.’
‘I telled you, Lee. I dunno nuthin’ about Baz. Ain’t seen him for days. Honest I ain’t.’
‘Ain’t what I heared. Know what I heared? You killed him. You topped him and put him in yer boot. Been luggin’ him round in there for days is what I heared. Luggin’ me little bruvver round lookin’ for a place to dump him. Thass what I heared, Fin. What should I make o’ that, eh? Eh?’ Lee’s face were turning pink. It were the shape and size of a pumpkin and the colour of a ripening tomato. ‘Where is he? Where’s our bruvver? Why’d you kill him? Who helped you? Were it Blake? Come on, where is he?’ He were screaming now. Screaming and punching Finney’s head. When he stopped all you could hear were his breathing and Finney’s whimpering. They all stood like that for about ten seconds. Then he gave the nod to Jess.
It were loud. To any bastard outside it’d sound like someone working on his motorbike I reckoned. Lee’s face stayed pink and fat and glowering. But Jess’s changed. He’d come to life, sort of. You could see the sparkle in his eye, the radiance of his yellow smile. I’d never seen him smile before. Never seen him waving a chainsaw about neither. It were a funny moment all in all. I could stand there and peer through a little crack in the wall and laugh at it all. I mean, slicing up Finney with a chainsaw in a lock-up in Norbert Green? Come off it.
Then Jess brung Susan down slowly. And red stuff sprayed up into Lee’s smirking face.
I fell away from the wall. I sat there on my arse for a while, hearing Susan roaring and Finney screaming. Then I turned over and heaved. Nothing came out, which weren’t surprising being as I hadn’t been eating proper of late. Then I crawled across the floor and under the door.
I stood outside for a bit, thinking about this and mulling over that. Finney were a mate. Muntons was in there right now chopping him up. Chopping my mate up. I ought to do summat about it. Finney’d said I would, hadn’t he? You’ll get it back ten times worser, he’d said. Well then, I ought to. I ought to come down on their heads like a ton of shite, chainsaw or no. But how could I pull it off? How could I fuck with the Muntons and save Finney?
I scanned around the yard. No one about. Mandy’s bullets rattled in me pocket, bringing emselves to my attention. It’s easy to forget about a gun when you ain’t carried one before. I got it out and loaded it, hoping I were doing it proper.
What a twat I were, faffing around wondering what to do when all the while the answer’s in me pocket, courtesy of Mandy Munton. Meanwhile Finney had like as not lost an arm or a foot or summat. Still, doctors can sew bits of your body back on by all accounts, long as you got em delivered to the ozzy along with the feller they came off of.
I held the pistol out in front of us, clutching it with both paws. It felt all right. And I reckoned if Clint Eastwood could shoot straight then so could I.
I went to the lock-up where the racket were coming from and put my ear against the door. Behind the roaring chainsaw I could hear Finney’s screams getting weaker and weaker. I grasped the handle and turned.
Locked.
‘Fuck,’ I says, and pointed the gun at the keyhole. But that were no good. You couldn’t lock them doors from the inside. Locking yourself in ain’t what they’re designed for. No, the Muntons had jammed it from the inside or summat. Bullets wouldn’t help us get through a sheet metal door. Not fast enough anyhow. I crawled back into the other garage.
Susan had stopped roaring for the time being. In her place you had Finney jabbering and wheezing, which you couldn’t blame the poor cunt for, really. I reckoned the Muntons was working slow. Cut him up a bit, somewhere that wouldn’t kill him. Then give him a break. Then cut him some more. Ain’t no point in torturing someone less you gives em chance to tell tales. I peered again through the hole.
Right enough, Lee were just opening his gob to speak: ‘Fun, ain’t it, Fin. Me an Jess here’d be happy to entertain you like this all day. How long you reckon yer hide can take it for, eh? Maybe Jess’ll try cutting a mite deeper next time. Course, you don’t like it, all you has to do is say. Say what happened to Baz.’
‘I telled you.’ Finney didn’t sound too bad considering. But that were our Fin for you—he’d be enjoying himself like as not. ‘You been talkin’ to liars. I ain’t had Baz in me boot. Honest, I ain’t.’
‘Callin’ my mate a liar now?’
It went on like that. I stepped back from the wall and rubbed hard on my stubbly chin. Summat needed doing. If I did fuck all Finney might grass on us. I went back to the crack and tried to aim the pistol through it. Nah. I’d never fired a gun in me life. And even if I brung Lee down I couldn’t be sure Jess’d still be in firing range.
Susan started up again.
I turned and saw the engine on the floor. Like I says, it were an old Rover un. V8 or summat. Them things is heavy as fuck, even if there’s three of you and a winch. But fuck it. There were nothing else for it.
I skipped around for a bit, punching the air and slapping me face. ‘Eye of the tiger,’ I says to meself. ‘Eye of the tiger. Eye of the fuckin’ tiger.’ I glared at the engine on the floor in front of us, and from somewhere came the opening bars of Survivor’s theme song, slamming into that engine like Rocky’s fist into a punchbag.
Bam.
Bam bam bam.
Bam bam bam.
Bam bam baa…I took a deep one and bent down to get a grip on the fucker. I squatted there, thinking of all the times I’d been down the gym in the old days and squatted more’n any other cunt in Mangel ever had done. I remembered my old man smacking us in the teeth and the way I always wanted to give him one right back but never did. I thought about them kids calling us bottler round at Sal’s house. I pictured Rocky decking Clubber Lang in the last round. Then I stood up, nice and slow, bringing the engine with us.
I turned. I weren’t thinking of the strain on me biceps and shoulders and legs. Fuck the sharp bit that were digging into me guts. There were only one place that engine were headed. I heaved high as I could and lobbed it wallward.
It were hard to see anything for a while, the air being full of dust. I felt for my pistol and flicked off the safety, backing away towards the door where it were easier to breathe. Susan’s roaring had stopped. But you couldn’t hear much from Finney neither. A bit of coughing and spluttering, but that could have been anyone. I had a bad feeling about that. If Finney were still alive I reckoned he’d be screaming. I crouched down and rested me finger on the trigger, itching to pull it but waiting for the moment.
I stayed crouched. For too fucking long. Crouching’s all right if you can shift around a bit on your haunches. But I couldn’t move. I didn’t dare. It were as much as I could do to blink and breathe, besides pointing the gun and watching as the dust cleared up.
After a minute or two you could see the hole. It were a big un, like a doorway with an arched top. Unless I were imagining it that is. Sometimes you stares at a spot for too long and starts seeing things as they ain’t. Weren’t much noise from the other side. Once or twice I reckoned I’d heard a whisper or two, but nothing else. I were starting to wonder if I hadn’t flattened em all with the engine and falling breeze blocks and that. Then Susan started up again.
She came through the wall, Jess right behind her. Susan were roaring. Jess were roaring. I were roaring and all, like as not.
I pulled the trigger.
But it didn’t do much besides give my arm a jolt. Jess were still coming at us, chainsaw aloft and yelling like billy-o. I could smell the petrol. Bits of this and that was flying off the saw, splatting on me face. I collapsed sideways.
It were one of my wiser moves, all things considered. Jess kept on going, shagging the wall with his weapon and making an awful racket as metal chewed breeze block. Then he sort of slumped, buckling und
er the weight. I were hoping Susan’d land atop him and cut him right through, but she fell to his side and went quiet. I could see what he were yelling for now. His hands was jammed between his legs, slick with blood.
I thought about the kick I’d dealt him in the graveyard, and how he weren’t having much luck in the knacker area of late. It were for the best, mind. Someone like Jess Munton is best keeping his oats to himself.
‘Blakey.’ It were Finney. Only it didn’t sound much like the Finney I knew and put up with. More like an old cunt in the later stages of a heart attack. I got up and walked to the hole, pointing the gun and bearing in mind that Lee might well aim summat at us any moment. I got to the hole and looked through it nice and careful. I spent about a minute edging slowly closer. All the while Fin were going ‘Blakey, Blakey…’ I took another gander back at Jess. He were lying stiller now and looking like he’d carked it, which spurred us on a bit.
Bollocks to it.
I climbed on through.
There were a fair bit of light in there, a bulb shining overhead and the door being now half open. Lee must have got away, short of a weapon and feeling a mite naked. I could feel the floor wet and sticky underfoot. The air smelt of two-stroke and summat else, summat that reminded us of the time Finney showed us the slaughtering yard. I swallowed hard and turned.
He were tied to a metal chair in the middle of the floor, body slumped, head drooping, eyes shut. But you could see he were still alive. His chest were going up and down. I counted his hands and feet and accounted for all of em. But both ears was gone and his head and shoulders was cut to hell and back. Every visible inch of his body were slick with blood. A pool of the stuff were spreading out under the chair. I stuck the gun down me pants and took the straps off him slowly, worried he might fall apart. In the event he just fell against us and let out a grunt. I were feeling strong. I were feeling like I could do anything and beat any odds. I still had the eye of the tiger, I reckoned. I breathed deep through my nose and hauled Fin across me shoulder.
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