by Phil Earle
‘Got it.’
‘But Jammy! Once you locate the back entrance, you wait to engage. Only on my word do you enter that building. Clear?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘And Tommo goes with you.’
‘No need, bo–’
‘That’s non-negotiable. Now wait for my call.’
I did as he said, though I’d rather have gone alone. It wasn’t like Tommo had Wayne to avenge. That was only me.
Keeping below the window I scrabbled back to the family, and shook off my pack.
In the side pocket I found a bundle of pens and boiled sweets that I offered to the boy. He only took them when his father told him to, snatching them from my hands out of fear, not greed. A smile crept over his face as he took in his hoard, and it pumped some steel into me, just when I needed it.
The pack slid on to my back again easily. I barely noticed the weight.
‘All right. On my word,’ whispered the boss in my ear as I scampered back to the window, taking in a last deep lungful of air. ‘GO!’
And with that, it was Guy Fawkes’ night, the sky lighting up with a thousand bangers.
Twisting my head in the direction of the enemy, and with bullets of my own to protect me, I tore across the road, back in the direction of the car I’d hidden behind earlier.
It was chaos, the rattling of bullets so confusing that I had no idea where they were coming from. Only when one bounced millimetres from my right boot did I realize they were firing back.
With a despairing dive I rolled behind the car, hearing the sound of bullets tearing into metal. I stared at the bodywork hoping the rust hadn’t eaten away its resistance. I couldn’t die here. Wouldn’t.
Frantically I searched for Tommo, spotting him in a window on the other side of the street, gun raised, bleeding ammo, being a soldier. I yelled at him, taking a dozen attempts and a frantic amount of waving to be heard against the overpowering din.
I pointed in the direction of our target, saw him nod, mouth ‘ten seconds’ then disappear from sight.
Pulling myself into a crouch, I checked I was good for ammo, then heaved in three deep breaths, hoping that would be enough to see me across the road safely.
With a scream, I hurled myself back into full view. Eyes on the door, but bullets streaming from my nozzle. I didn’t care where they hit as long as they kept them at bay. Feeling Tommo’s presence behind me, the two of us piled through our target, the wooden door giving like cardboard under my shoulder. With a relieved cry and our lungs on fire, we crashed to the floor, Tommo laughing hysterically. ‘What’s going on out there? How many guys have they got hidden?’
I slapped his back as we hoisted each other skywards. ‘Don’t even think about it. You’ve faced more on the Xbox, haven’t you?’
‘Aye, but I can pause that, can’t I? Can’t imagine I can have a break for a beer and a pee now, eh?’
I laughed at the madness of it, craving a can and a bog break more than anything. In that moment, all that mattered was having Tommo with me. The one who’d run with me all my life, the one who ate ketchup with everything, even toast, the one who’d survived endless nights at the wrong end of a drunk dad. My brother. Cam’s brother.
I wanted to hug him but couldn’t. There was too much kit in the way for starters. Fortunately, whatever was going on, he was feeling it too. His hand stretched out and gripped mine, eyes boring a hole right into the middle of me.
‘It’ll be all right, Jamm. A week and we’ll be back home. It’ll seem like a breeze next to this.’
‘You reckon pulling Sonny into line’ll be easy?’
He chuckled and shrugged. ‘Well, it’ll be different … Only bullets will be the ones leaving his mouth.’
‘I’d settle for that right now.’
He looked at me and smiled.
‘Me too, pal. Me too.’
Jammy
The building was like the whole country in miniature: hot and dusty.
We picked our way through the darkness carefully, not wanting to disturb anything, painfully aware they could’ve laced the entire floor with IEDs to stop us getting close to what they were guarding.
For once, though, there were no surprises, no one waiting for us except for the rats that dashed across our paths, looking for a hole where there were no soldiers, bombs or explosions. Wherever that place was, they weren’t going to find it quickly.
I tried to shake the tension from my arms without allowing my guard to drop, but failed. This was it, my chance to try and put things straight.
But as we reached the rear of the building, our ears were pulled back to the street by a ferocious rally of ammo. We raced to the window to see a group of uniforms snaking up towards the car that had sheltered us. Despite their determination, they seemed to move in slow motion, packs dragging their bodies into awkward crouching movements. How had we made it, moving as slowly as them?
Thrusting our rifles into the night air, we looked for someone, anyone, to fire at, but the angles were too sharp, their hiding places too canny for us to reach.
I wanted to scream, as all we could do was watch their bullets trace ever closer to the lads we had promised to fight for, to die for if we had to.
A bullet crashed home, splaying a leg wide open. I strained to see who had taken the impact, but could make out only shadows, two helmeted figures hoisting the body up and towards the car, regardless of the risk to themselves.
Safety catch off, I raced to the door but was yanked back by Tommo.
‘Don’t be daft, Jamm. There’s nothing you can do. Wait for the boss’s word.’
But what if it was the boss who’d taken the hit? Where did that leave us?
‘Don’t give us away. We need this cover.’
He was right, we had no option but to watch, as with a final, huge effort they plunged behind the car’s body and out of sight.
I should’ve been relieved, but as we radioed in for an update, the madness made a return, a mechanical scream ripping at our senses as the car disappeared from view, eaten alive by a monstrous ball of fire.
The impact blew us off our feet and on to the trembling floor. Instinctively we curled into balls, expecting the walls to tumble around us. But apart from a hideous stink of burning metal and flesh, we were left untouched.
This time it was me holding Tommo back as he screamed incoherently, pulling me closer to the street.
‘Get back, mate, get back! Look at it. It’s too late!’
Tomm yanked his helmet from his head, and pulled at his hair, reminding me of the nervous mess he’d been when we first arrived.
‘It’s so screwed up, Jamm. All of it!’
He didn’t have to tell me. I was feeling everything he was but couldn’t let him know, couldn’t risk us both being out of control. So I grabbed at his straps and pulled him close. ‘Listen, you’re breathing, mate. And so am I. We’ll be all right.’
‘But we won’t, will we? Look at that car. That was us five minutes ago. How long till they know we’re here? How long till they do the same to us?’
I didn’t allow him to look anywhere but in my face, to see that I could make it all OK.
‘We won’t be here, pal. We’re going to do what we planned. Find this back exit and stop them.’
His shoulders stopped shaking for a moment, the tears rolling from his eyes almost stopping too. He’d clearly heard me but wished he hadn’t.
‘But that’s not what we were meant to do. The boss said wa–’
‘And now the boss isn’t answering. So what other choice have we got? If we wait, they’ll have the rest of the weapons out of here and the whole town’ll be more volatile than ever.’
‘Then let ’em. A week till we go home, Jamm. Think of that.’
‘Yeah, but two weeks after that, where will we be? Back here! We have to try, mate. You have to trust me.’
‘You really believe we can do it?’
I nodded. I had to believe. The alternative was unbe
arable. All the guilt, the regret about what had happened in the market square, I couldn’t carry it around for another minute, never mind another day. It had to be now. Why lug it home and let it strangle the life out of me, when I had this chance to put it straight?
‘And if it looks grim, Jamm, then we’ll stand down and wait?’
‘Of course. When have I ever let you down?’
With those words I had him, trusting enough to ram the helmet back on to his head and fall in behind me as we sneaked into the alley behind our target.
Out there, though, with the humid air clinging to our skin, I realized I had no real idea of where we were heading. The only lead we had came from a man I’d known for five minutes: was it the sort of intel we could trust?
What I did see as we squinted into the dark was a sturdy-looking reinforced door. Usually they looked as thick as a wafer biscuit, riddled with bullets and rot, but this one had some beef to it, the paint faded but not ancient. Made me reckon it had to be our way in. I pointed it out to Tommo, him nodding in agreement.
‘Let’s sit back and see what happens,’ he whispered, still nervy. ‘Let them come to us.’
I didn’t share his patience. ‘But what if there’s another exit? For all we know they could be unloading through another door.’
But Tommo wasn’t budging. Instead he turned to face me, blocking the door I was desperate to pile through. ‘Jamm, this isn’t a five-star hotel. Look at it. It’s a mess. There’s no other way out except for the front, and I can’t see ’em being ballsy enough to leave that way.’
I tried to reason with him, tell him about surprise being our advantage, our wildcard, but no matter how many times we beat it back to each other, we couldn’t reach any kind of agreement.
‘I’m not having it,’ he moaned, trying to walk past me. ‘We can’t just bundle in there and expect them to roll over. We should pull back, regroup, wait for the boss.’
My temperature boiled over. We were too close to bail out, so, with my rifle in one hand, I grabbed Tomm by his armour and yanked him in front of me, creating a barrier between him and where he wanted to go.
‘What are you doing?’ he spat. ‘Get your hands off me.’
‘You’re not thinking straight, mate. We can do thi–’
‘Maybe you can. You want to play the hero, then go ahead. I’m not bleeding out just so you can have a medal pinned on.’
That was it. It was the last thing I needed to hear when I was so close to something like revenge. Without thinking, I formed a fist and pulled my arm back.
But I never finished the job, for as I raised my arm, the door behind Tommo flew open and a figure appeared, pistol in hand.
Instinctively I dropped my fist and swung my gun arm, index finger twitching over the trigger. But as it gave beneath the pressure, I felt myself stop.
It was the figure in the doorway. He was packing a gun, pointing it straight at us, but not with menace. Instead he was smiling at me as blood oozed down his cheek.
I couldn’t believe it. He was back.
It was Little Wayne, his clothes still tattered and burnt from the bomb, his left arm nothing more than a chewed stump, the rags of his sleeve failing to hide his gangrenous wound.
I resisted the urge to run to him as he slumped against the doorframe, still holding the energy to wave the pistol in our direction.
I’ve no idea what my expression said, but it was enough for Tommo to crane towards the door, a single word leaving his lips and ripping at my eardrums.
‘SHHHOOOOOOOT!’
But I didn’t. Why would I, when I was off the hook? Instead I trusted what I’d seen, and in that second the nozzle of Wayne’s pistol lit up, launching a stream of bullets straight into Tommo’s body, so violent that the impact catapulted him off his feet and into my arms.
My eyes flew back to the door, but there was no Wayne any more, no rotting arm or bloodstained face. Just a kid, my age, my height, a shaking pistol in his hand and two semi-automatic rifles slung across his back.
My head, heart, every muscle in my body wanted to cave in, but as Tommo’s weight pushed me towards the dust, my free arm unleashed a torrent of its own that blasted the lad back through the door and on to his back, blood erupting from him like lava.
Our bodies, all three of them, shook. A terrible noise like a witch’s cackle crept from Tommo’s lips, a vapoury spray of blood pocking my face as he exhaled.
Pinned helplessly to the floor, I had no option but to roll him to the side; as our bodies parted I couldn’t mistake what I’d done.
Small, circular rips littered his armour, but I couldn’t make out any blood. It was only when my eyes moved to his head that I saw the claret pumping from his neck with such ferocity that I could see the life flooding out of him.
I screamed as I pressed my hands to the wound, watching in horror as the blood streamed between the creases in my fingers.
‘HOLD ON!’ I yelled at him, pressing hard with one hand, the other grappling for the intercom.
I had no idea what I was hollering into it, no clue who, if anyone, heard me. All I could see was my best mate bleeding out. The horror consumed me, filled up every sense I owned.
From somewhere, Tomm found the energy to raise his hands, and, with a monumental effort, pulled me back down to him, my ear resting flush against his lips. I wanted to pull away, to stem the blood, to walk over to who did this and riddle every inch of his body with bullets, but I couldn’t, as Tommo wouldn’t let me, his fists as steady, his will as strong as it had ever been. He wanted to tell me something. He wanted me to listen.
At first, it made no sense: a collection of wheezes and rattles. Frustration bit him hard and he pulled my hair, my ear almost inside his mouth as he forced the sounds into words.
‘Is … is O … is OK.’
‘What is, mate?’ His blood was swamping us. I swear his lips felt colder, though his grip stayed tight.
‘All this … You … is OK … is OK … I got … I got you.’
As the last word crept out, I swear I heard him drown, the blood pooling in his throat before escaping from his neck.
Every inch of me panicked. My hand pushed back against the wound, ear desperate to pick up any trace of breath leaving his lips.
I felt it once. Again. Then again. Then nothing. His lungs gave out, but somehow his arms didn’t. They locked me against him and held me there, and I didn’t want to move. Not when a door crashed open behind me, not when the night was full of shouting, not even when the bullets started to rain from all directions.
I didn’t care where they were coming from: didn’t care if they hit.
Tommo had me, had my back.
What was unforgiveable was that I hadn’t watched his.
Sonny
I was shivering by the time Jamm finished, my body stiffening after all the running.
But if I felt ropey, then how was he feeling?
I had no words to match Jamm’s, and although he’d laid it all out in bare and graphic detail, I had no answers about how to help either.
Instead I shuffled closer and tried to hug him, but it was like trying to wrap your arms around a fridge.
‘I’m sorry, Jamm.’ I didn’t know what else to say.
‘Sorry doesn’t help,’ he replied, agitated. ‘I’ve had sorry on loop for the past month but it doesn’t change anything. I’ve watched them die a million times, over and over again in my head. And it’s killing me, cos every time it’s still my fault.’
‘But that’s just it, mate, it isn’t. You’ve told me yourself, you’re not well. All this stuff about the kid that died – that wasn’t your doing. The terrorists would’ve found another way to do the same thing, it had nothing to do with you.’
‘You weren’t there, Sonny. You don’t know.’
‘But I know you. No way you’d do anything to hurt anyone on purpose. It’s me who does that, remember?’
‘Not any more.’
I was starting to f
eel desperate, needed to find a way to get through to him.
‘We could talk to someone in the army. Tell them about Wayne and the flashbacks. They’d understand, mate. It must happen all the time.’ I had no idea if it did, no idea if Jamm was even replaying it all now. In his head we could’ve been sat on top of a tumbling building for all I knew.
‘It’s too late.’
‘Course it’s not. How can it be too late …?’
‘Because they’re dead. Don’t you get that, Sonny? Both of them, Wayne and Tomm. And both because of me.’
Our rest was over, he was back on his feet and pacing, eyes searching the floor, and by the time I realized what he wanted it was too late, the gun was back in his hand.
‘It’s time you went.’
‘Are you having a laugh? No way I’m leaving you up here.’
‘I said, GO.’
‘And I said, NO. After what you told me, do you really think I’m going down those stairs? Not while you’re still up here holding that thing.’
He took a step forwards, the gun by his side but his face carrying real menace. However this played out, he wanted it on his terms.
But as he reached me, a piercing light cut through the darkness of the sky, throwing the rooftop into almost burning focus. It must’ve been Jamm’s worst nightmare, further evidence that he was slowly losing his mind.
This was no explosion, though. It was a police chopper: a common sight to anyone living on the Ghost.
Without thinking, I threw myself at Jamm, knocking him to the floor as we rolled in the shadows. It wasn’t a surprise that they’d launched an aerial patrol, what with the crew raging downstairs and gunfire from up here, but it focused me beautifully. I had to keep Jamm out of sight to stand any chance of evading the police.
He had other ideas, though, his good arm trying to swat me as I straddled him without wrecking his bleeding fist any further.
‘What are you doing?’
I was straining too hard to answer. Knew if I held him for a minute longer the chopper would sweep away towards the other towers. All I had to do was stop him getting the shot off that would give us both away.
‘They will find me, so you might as well let go,’ he ranted.
