by Liam Brown
It was time to go.
All the way home I had the feeling I was being followed. Cars seemed to slow every time they passed, and I was convinced one was going to stop and bundle me inside. I could almost feel the bag being forced over my head, my hands being bound with cable-ties as I fingered the smooth plastic casing of the memory stick in my pocket. But none of the cars stopped, and as I got closer to my apartment I started to wonder whether Jeremy wasn’t simply being paranoid. I mean, even Dustin had said Jeremy was theatrical. Wasn’t it possible this was all some elaborate joke?
By the time I reached the apartment I’d pretty much reassured myself that everybody involved was overreacting – Jeremy and Dustin were running around playing stupid spy games and I’d allowed myself to get dragged in. Honestly, there was probably nothing on the bloody stick apart from a copy of the James Bond soundtrack.
Bloody men! Boys more like...
As I punched in the code for the door, I suddenly heard a noise close behind me. The slamming of a car door followed by quick footsteps. I scanned the drive but saw no one. I shook my head. It seemed the paranoia was catching. I turned back to the pad. My code wasn’t working for some reason, a small red cross flashing up every time I punched the digits.
More footsteps.
This time I saw something when I turned. A flash of silver, over by the recycling bins. I stabbed the door code into the keypad again and again, the screen filling with little red crosses. Behind me I thought I heard the crackle of a walkie-talkie.
Maybe.
Instructions to move on the target.
Maybe.
Giving up on the keypad I started hitting random buzzers, waiting for the red sight of a sniper rifle to drift into my field of view.
For the world to disappear.
Instinctively my hand came up to my stomach – as if a few extra millimetres of flesh and bone could somehow halt the forward trajectory of a speeding bullet. I felt you kick in response.
Suddenly there was a click as the door swung open, someone in the block having unwittingly saved my life.
Wheezing for breath, I heaved myself up the stairs, not wanting to lose time waiting for the lift. As I hit the second floor I thought I heard the door swing open below me. Not waiting to find out if I was imagining things, I powered forward, slotting my key into the lock and twisting the handle. It opened first time and I tumbled inside, shoving the door shut behind me and then sinking to my knees.
It was only then I realised I was crying, my whole body shaking uncontrollably. Deep inside, I felt you go very still, as if you knew something was wrong.
Eventually I took a deep breath and clambered up to my feet, fumbling for the light switch. I never made it. Because at the bottom of the hallway, standing in the shadows, someone was watching me. And even in the darkness, I could see they were smiling.
‘Hello Lorna.’
Yup, I’d have to say that those weeks I spent with Afa and Basim and the rest of ’em were about the most content I can remember. Sure we were hungry, and there was never enough of that salty water to go around, but there was comfort in the routine. I had work to do in the day and a good woman to hang onto at night. What more could a man reasonably hope for in this sorry-ass world? The only real problem was Cal.
It was weird – it seemed the stronger and happier I got, the more miserable and withdrawn he became. After a while it got so he wouldn’t see anyone, especially not me. The only person he’d let near him was Gita, who’d bring him his meals while he sat festerin in his room. Now and again I’d ask her how he was doin but she’d jus’ shrug and shake her head. ‘It takes time.’ Once a week Gita would manage to drag him out of the shack to walk him around the village for some fresh air. The kids would run and hide, terrified of his chewed up face, so Gita started takin him right out past the farm so as not to run into anybody. I’d wave to him if I ever saw him but he never waved back. I figured Gita was right. Maybe all he needed was time.
One mornin I was workin down on the farm. There was some sort of rag-head holy day comin up and the village was plannin a feast. That particular mornin it was jus’ me and Basim, as Afa had taken the girls to start decoratin the school. I’d decided to try and stake out some of the weaker veggies as they weren’t strong enough to carry their own weight. It was a tricky job as we didn’t have any wire, so instead I was gettin Basim to double up lengths of straw and tie them around my makeshift wooden spikes. We were about a third of the way through the job when the screamin began.
For a second I thought I was mistaken, that maybe it was a bird or somethin, but then I heard the poundin of footsteps and I looked up to see Afa sprintin towards me, her face a smear of pain and tears. ‘Help!’ she called as I ran to meet her. ‘Come quick…. It’s Gita… I think she’s dying.’ We ran in silence back to the village, little Basim pantin alongside us, trying to keep up. As we reached Gita’s shack, Afa paused a second, blockin the door. ‘Please… try and do something.’ With that she quickly stepped aside to let me pass and then followed me into the room, pullin the curtain sharply behind her to shield Basim from the scene unfoldin inside.
Gita was lyin on the bed, moanin quietly under her breath. She was coddled in a thin sheet, her face contorted in pain. In the dim light I could just about make out a thick knot of towels bunched between her legs. The towels were stained red. I put an arm around Afa, but she shrugged it off. ‘Your friend did this,’ she said, noddin at Gita in disgust. ‘Who, Cal?’ I asked, genuinely surprised. ‘The boy’s in a damn wheelchair!’ At the mention of his name, Gita let out a low moan. ‘She was taking him for his walk,’ Afa continued. ‘He say he had something in his eye. When she looked he was holding knife. He took her, forced her…’ At this Gita’s moans became even louder. I glanced down at the small purple bruises already blossoming on her bony wrists. It looked like he’d broken her nose too. Oh Cal, you stupid fuck. ‘Ok,’ I sighed. ‘Where is he now?’ Afa shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Still there maybe? He didn’t follow her back to the village.’ ‘I’ll fix this,’ I said, already backin towards the door. ‘I’ll find him and make it better, ok Gita? Let me do that for you.’ Afa smiled bitterly. ‘You do that,’ she said. ‘You find him and you fix him. And then you leave and never come back. You soldiers are all the same. You come and you take what you want and you don’t care. You just take, take, take, until there’s nothing.’ ‘I’ll make it better,’ I said again. But Afa had already turned her back on me.
As I stormed through the village I reached into my jacket to check my handgun. I’d decided against going back to my shack to pick up my rifle, which’d sat neglected under my bed since I’d arrived here. I checked the clip on the 9mm. I realised this was the first time I’d held it in my hands since the goat attack. There were three bullets left in the chamber.
When I reached the farm I scanned the horizon for signs of life, seein nothin but flies and goats. Afa had obviously managed to herd the children to the safety of the school. For once, even Basim wasn’t snappin at my heels. I was alone. Suddenly there was a flicker of movement in the distance as Cal broke cover, wheelin himself further out into the desert. I reached for my gun and fixed him in my sights, my arm deadly still, my finger on the trigger. I paused. Three bullets. I couldn’t risk it. Slippin my gun back into its holster, I started racin towards him, my freshly staked vegetables trampled under the weight of my boots.
I caught up with him easily, the small, make-shift wheelchair no match for the sandy terrain. When I was a few hundred yards from him he turned and spotted me, his arms flappin as he desperately tried to wheel himself faster. I swear to god it would’ve been funny if I wasn’t about to blow his head off.
‘Ok that’s it Cal,’ I called out. ‘Fun’s over.’ He gave one last surge, his chair scrapin on a large rock, and then stopped, still facin away from me. I reached into my jacket. ‘Bitch made me do it!’ He called out, his thin, nasal voice echoin around the clearin. ‘Fuckin bent over me every day, rubbin
me, touchin me. She was askin for it.’ My thumb hooked over the top of my gun, pulled back the safety. ‘She didn’t even get upset until afterwards,’ Cal continued, his voice crackin now, though with laughter or tears I couldn’t tell. ‘Reckon she didn’t mind it as well. Y’know how these blacks are – actin all coy and shit. I seen it in her eyes. She wanted it.’
I took a couple of steps towards him and held out my arm, linin up the back of his head with the gun. ‘You know I’m going to shoot you now Cal?’ I asked. ‘That I don’t have a choice.’ I watched his shoulders tense up and begin to shake. Very slowly he started to wheel his chair around, until eventually he was facin me. Even with all those scars, he looked like a sad, scared kid.
‘Oh fuck I’m so sorry Sir. I’m sorry, I’ll do anythin. I was jus’ so lonely and she was lookin at me and I swear she wanted it, she WANTED it. I’m SORRY!’ He was disolvin before my eyes, like a tender steak stuck through the mincer, his tears tinged pink as the scabs started to open up, his face literally fallin apart. He was a mess, a pitiful, disgustin mess. And I was about to do him the only favour he had left comin to him. My finger stroked the trigger. ‘I’m sorry too Cal.’ He closed his eyes, a dark patch spreadin across the front of his trousers. His mouth twisted into a scream.
And then something happened.
There was a roar, not Cal screamin, but somethin else, louder and infinitely more powerful, shaking the earth beneath our feet. I span around and dropped to my knees, years of trainin kickin in. Muscle memory. The sound intensified, was everywhere, my ears buzzin, my teeth vibratin in their gums. And the weird thing was I weren’t scared. Not one bit. Because this is what I was out here for, what I was made for.
Ignorin Cal completely now, I rolled over and took up a firin position on my belly, grippin my pistol firmly with both hands. I gritted my teeth and said my prayers. I was ready. We were under attack, and I’m tellin ya son – it felt great! Because finally, finally, we had found ourselves a Monster.
‘Hello Lorna.’
Danny moved quickly towards me, still smiling – though the closer he got the more his smile began to resemble a grimace. I reached for the light switch again.
‘Uh-uh,’ he said, grabbing me by the wrist.
I smiled nervously, trying to pull away. His grip tightened. It was then I noticed the crumpled slip of paper in his hand, the sad, looping lines of a failed Dear Dustin letter gleaming like a death warrant.
Signed, sealed, delivered.
I’m yours.
Danny leant closer and pushed his teeth into my lips, a parody of a kiss. ‘Surprised to see me huh? Only ya look a little outta sorts… ’
‘Danny, I can explain.’
Danny pulled back a couple of inches so that he was staring me in the eye. I could smell bourbon on his breath. Bourbon and hate. ‘So explain,’ he said calmly.
I took a breath. ‘Dustin’s a friend. A colleague, at the charity shop. And he got the wrong idea. I don’t know, he was confused. We both were but... But you weren’t here Danny. And even when you were, you weren’t interested. I tried. I did. But you didn’t want to know. And I was lonely. I don’t think that makes me a bad person.’ I heard my voice crack, the panic seeping into my speech. ‘But, oh god, I don’t know what the hell’s going on anymore. Dustin was part of this group of activists and… I think I was followed home. I think something bad is going to happen. Something really, really… ’
Crack!
The blow took me off my feet and onto the floor. At first I thought it was just the shock that had caused me to crumble, Danny’s right fist seeming to swing out of nowhere, but when I put my hand to my face I knew at once my jaw was broken.
‘Now,’ Danny said, examining his knuckles. ‘I don’t wanna hear another goddamn sound come outta your cheatin fuckin trap. Do you understand?’ His voice was level, bored almost – as if he was trying to explain something to a naughty child. ‘Do you understand?’
I nodded, whimpering slightly, my face pulsing with pain.
Thump!
This time Danny swung his leg back and caught me just below the knee. ‘I said I didn’t want to hear a sound.’ He paused, smiling again. ‘Now, have we got anything in the fridge?’
I didn’t move.
‘Cos I could eat a fuckin horse. Why don’t you go to the bathroom and clean up and then cook us a coupla steaks, huh?’
Then he hit the switch.
The drone roared over our heads. It was smaller than I imagined, especially considerin the noise it was makin. It definitely wouldn’t have been any good at sneakin up on the enemy. Then again, seein as how it was equipped with two 100lb air-to-surface wog-killer missiles as well as a laser-guided insurgent strike glide bomb, I guess it didn’t need to. It was, as they say in the trade, a motherfuckin death machine. I watched as it flew straight past us and on towards the village, no more than a coupla hundred feet above the ground. Cal the retard was actually wavin at it, not realising there was nobody aboard. ‘Hey!’ he yelled. ‘Over here!’ The drone carried on, turnin slightly as it reached the village and then shot off into the desert, dissapearin behind a small mountain range in the distance. I shook my head, almost laughin. ‘Well I’ll be… ’
As I straightened up and dusted myself down, I looked over at Cal. He was cryin again, obviously realisin his stay of execution was over. Like I said before, there ain’t no cavalry out here, no charge of the light brigade. He was, in a word, fucked.
Jus’ then there was a sound like thunder, and I looked to see the drone returnin towards us, flyin even faster and lower this time, with purpose. I swear to god if it’d had a face it would’ve been smilin. I watched in horror as it got closer and closer to the village, a plummetin feeling in the pit of my stomach as I realised what was about to happen. And then I was the retard, wavin my hands in the air, jumpin up and down and screamin ‘Stop! No!’
And forgettin there was nobody there.
The drone was gone before the smoke cleared. I heard it go, even though I couldn’t see anythin. It sounded lighter somehow, less menacing now that it’d dropped its load. I closed my eyes, opened them and closed them again, until eventually the air was clear enough for me to witness what I already knew.
It’s funny how your mind works in times of great stress, son. As I looked at the blackened ruins that two minutes earlier had been homes, all I could think was how tidy a job it was. Seriously, it was a perfect hit; the buildings precisely flattened with almost none of the surrounding area touched. Even the farm was still standing, the goats shuffling nervously around their poles. As I watched the thick coils of black smoke spiralin up from what was left of the village, I didn’t think about Gita, lyin broken in her bed, or about the children, cowerin under the tables they had set for a feast. I didn’t think about little Basim, peekin up at me through a patch of berries, his cheeky face so much like yours it was frightenin. I didn’t even think about Afa, about the softness of her hair or the warmth of her skin, like an unfulfilled promise crouched in the depths of those endless nights. I didn’t think about them because there was no point anymore. They were all just a pile of charred bones now. Bones and ash. They were gone.
I walked over to Cal and shot him in the neck. The force took him out of his chair and into the dirt. He squirmed a little on his back, his stumps thrashin in the air as he clutched his throat, trying desperately to stem the flow. I stood over him and watched him drown in his own blood for a while before I shot him in the head. Then I started walkin.
Now that I could see him properly, Danny looked terrifying. He was still wearing his army fatigues, the dusty brown shirt ripped around the neck and spattered with dark red spots. It was his eyes I noticed most though – heavy purple rings framing bloodshot eyeballs. He looked like he hadn’t slept for weeks. He looked like he wasn’t there at all.
‘I said ya betta get yourself cleaned up!’ he shouted, his voice slurring slightly, creaking with the booze.
I licked my lips and tasted
blood.
‘I said GET UP!’
Somewhere inside me – in the deepest, safest place I have – I felt something shudder.
Felt you shudder.
As if you knew what was coming next.
‘GET UP!’
I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.
‘I SAID GET UP!’
I swallowed hard. ‘Is that what they taught you at soldier school Dan? To hit things smaller than you? Is that how you get what you want?’
Danny took a step closer to me.
‘Please Danny, listen… ’
But Danny didn’t want to listen.
He reached for the switch again and the lights went off.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry.’
But this time I was speaking to you.
FOUR
I walked for hours, away from Cal, the village, everythin. I walked and walked. All I had with me was the clothes on my back, my notebook in my pocket and my gun. No water. No food. It didn’t make a difference. I kept walkin, the sun settin before me, smearin the sky pink and red like the bleedin gums of hell. I headed straight for them.
The sky got dark and the stars came out, the wind so cold I stopped bein able to feel my fingers or toes. I kept walkin. The moon was out that night, a big cheesy grin smirkin down on the barren nothingness all around me. For some reason it bugged the hell outta me, that moon. In fact I kinda felt like whippin out my pistol and puttin one in its eye. But I kept my hands in my pockets and my eyes on the dirt. Ain’t no point pullin a gun on no celestial body, son. I reckon that there’s the first, second and third signs of madness all rolled into one, ha.
As usual there weren’t much to look at in that big ol’ desert. I might’ve been on the other side of the border, but it was the same old shit keepin me company. Rocks, sand, flies. At one point a rattlesnake darted out from behind a boulder and blocked my path, shakin his tail for all he was worth. I stepped right over him and carried on, not even breakin pace. The snake dropped his tail and slithered on. I guess he sensed I was in no mood to be fucked with.
