by M W Foolster
And then comes an ear splitting explosion that knocks Jason off his feet. He immediately turns to Jazz, who'd taken the brunt of the blast. She looks dazed but gives him a reassuring smile. A quick check on both Robbie and Tammy, relieved to find that they’ve both darted back into the library. Struggles to his feet, his attention now drawn to the burning silver people carrier to their right and the four youths running away from it whooping, followed by the screech of brakes as a small green hatchback crashes straight into the side of it. The sound of pounding feet as both the ruffians and the Borrington residents stampede past the library to escape yet another burning car, and then he hears a scream.
Without thinking, Jason walks slowly towards the green hatchback, smoke now pummelling from its bonnet. He can see that the driver’s door is rammed shut from the collision with the silver people carrier, that the car must have spun and that it's now wedged sideways on. But more importantly, that somebody is trapped inside. He now runs across to it, his legs feeling unsteady. The heat suddenly hits him, pushes him back. A rancid taste in his mouth. Now at the front passenger door. A middle aged woman, red in the cheeks, breathing heavily, frantically pushes at it from the inside. Grabs hold of the handle with both hands and yanks at it. But it won’t budge. Their eyes meet and he can see her fear as she pleads for his help. He pulls with all of strength, muscles screaming, his chest fit to burst, the smoke getting thicker. But it’s hopeless, the door is jammed shut. ‘Think, Jason … Think.’
The sweat is now dripping off him, can feel it running down his face and into his eyes. And then he catches sight of it out of the corner of his eye. A baseball bat. Flames licking out of the side of the car bonnet, paint melting away, knows he hasn’t much time before the engine blows. He bangs on the window, she looks up at him, her eyes begging for help. He gestures for her to move back across to the driver’s seat and to cover her face. Time against them, she's barely moved before he starts pounding at the glass with the bat. It shatters. He continues to clear glass from the inside of the frame. His arm is then through the window, pulling, but it isn't going to give, is jammed shut.
Shouts to her, “You will have to climb through!”
“I can’t, I am too big. I won’t make it. I’ll get stuck.”
“It’s going to blow any second, so move for fuck sake!”
That works. She is across the seat and forcing her upper body through the broken window in seconds. He is frantically pulling on her upper arm. But it's no use. Her shoulders become wedged in the window. The panic starts to set in. The heat from the bonnet is scorching. Is blinded by the thick black smoke now surrounding him. Eyes watering, muscles screaming, his strength fast wilting, he starts praying for help. And then he becomes aware of a body beside him. Another set of hands now pulling on the woman's arm. She starts to give. And then he's flying backwards.
His head hits the ground with a dull thud. A heavy weight lands on him, crushing his chest. He struggles to breath and desperately tries to push it away. Relief as the weight is suddenly gone from him. Rolls over, is on all fours facing the ground, coughing violently. His chest on fire. Starts crawling away from the car.
A voice yells, “The car est to explode.”
He vaguely recognises the voice but can't quite place it in his mind. And then he's forcefully dragged upright and virtually carried along, his feet scrapping the floor. Tears rolling down his cheeks, eyes stinging, in fact, they are now so heavy that he can barely keep them open. A powerful blast behind him, scorching heat, the smell of burnt hair. Screaming, he can hear screaming. Falling forward on to his knees. That's parquet flooring, the library, he's back in the library. A woman crying. Jason lifts his head, squinting, struggling to focus. It's her, yes, it's the woman from the car. She's here in the library.
‘Thank God.'
Leans back against the wooden counter. Eyes closed. Head spinning. The dizziness now making him feel nauseous. And then comes the darkness.
“Dirty, filthy rats.”
A petrol lighter clutched tightly in his fist, Kevin stares at the green wheelie bin, and grins to himself. It had been less than ten minutes since he’d hidden behind the very same bin, watching with fascination as several of the black scarfed soldiers had leapt into a van, and started passing boxes full of glass bottles to their comrades. Boxes soon emptied, the soldiers had quickly got to work filling them with a clear fluid and ramming pieces of cloth down into the throats of the bottles. Kevin had gasped at seeing dozens of them lined up in the alleyway, the same alley that Gabriel had earlier escaped down. A ruff voice had then barked out his orders, soldiers shouting as they’d snatched at the bottles and set light to them. Kevin had squirmed with excitement at seeing the soldiers charge from the alleyway, and launch the flaming bottles at cars parked up in the high street. He’d howled with pleasure at having seen them explode into flames. But then the soldiers had suddenly deserted their post, had left the bottles in the alleyway and bolted. Kevin was left feeling totally confused. Why, with so many bottles lined up ready to be thrown, would they abandon their position?
Kevin had skated past the fleeing soldiers, shrieking at them to turn back, but the sight he was suddenly met by had brought him to an abrupt stop. Another army emerging through the thick, black smoke. An endless line of bullies armed with baseball bats, metal poles, axes and huge knives. Too many nasty people for the brave soldiers. Kevin had roared out in anger as the filthy bullies had stormed past, but they'd just ignored him. Air reeking of burning petrol, eyes streaming from the acrid smoke, Kevin had barely made it back into the alleyway before doubling over in a coughing fit. And then they'd caught his attention again, dozens of bottles still lined up against the wall.
With three of them now carefully cradled in his arm, and several lighters he’d found dropped in amongst them safely crammed into his pockets, Kevin skates back out.
“Going to fire your dirty rat arses off.”
Cloth lit, he pushes open the bin lid, and throws the bottle inside. A sudden loud whoosh almost knocks him off his feet. The sound of smashing glass as the two remaining bottles are sent crashing heavily to the ground, not that Kevin is overly concerned, he’s still battling to regain his balance. Skates finally back under his control, and having retreated to a safe distance, his mouth drops open in awe at the orange flames erupting out of the bin. With a dirt encrusted hand covering his nose, the stench of melting plastic having quickly filled his nostrils, Kevin has tears of joy rolling down his cheeks at hearing the sound of rats squealing. Overcome with excitement, he starts skating around in a tight circle, whooping and laughing; completely oblivious to the flammable fluid from the smashed bottles snaking its way towards a smouldering car.
The blast hits Kevin face on. Arms stretched out towards the exploding car, he’s left panic stricken at being propelled backwards, the roller skates now moving at a blistering pace. Breaking glass, a sharp pain in his arm and then nothing.
Kevin is drifting backwards through a long black tunnel. Everything is silent now. Where have all the soldiers gone? Still the smell of burning but even that is fading. The black tunnel then sucks him past the filthy school with all of the nasty bullies. Past Gabriel and other enemy soldiers. Past the bad people that had thrown him out of the school. Past the library where the silly teachers had forced him to meet them and sit doing stupid school work. Into his estate. And into the flat he calls home. But then he is really home. Can hear mum singing to herself. He stands at the kitchen doorway watching her. And she turns towards him and smiles. She tells him that she is cooking fish, chips and peas. His favourite. His mouth starts watering. Runs and hugs mum. Buries his face into the large red apron that always smells of cakes. Mum laughs and tickles him. He is still giggling as he runs into the living room. Now he is playing with the toy soldiers he got for his birthday. Dad is sat in his big leather armchair opposite. Dad burps loudly before continuing to drink from a bottle. It's a horrid smelly drink. Had sniffed at the bottle once and it made his
eyes water. All the toy soldiers are lined up and about to attack the army train. Starts imitating war noises. Dad tells him to be quiet as he fills up the metal lighter. Dad coughs. Dad spills liquid over the sides of the silver lighter. Phew, it stinks. He is angry. Silly Dad has spilt it over the train track. Dad uses bad words that mum has told him never to repeat. Dad drops the lighter and knocks the bottle. The bottle falls over. Smelly drink all over the floor. Dad lights a smelly stick and sucks on it. In a huff, he storms off to his bedroom. Jumps on the bed. Dad snoring. Puts his hands over his ears and reads his comic. His head is aching. Feels sleepy.
Men in yellow helmets. In his bedroom. Smells smoke. One of them carries him. Feels cold. Chest hurts. Blue lights. Something over his mouth. Tastes disgusting. So sleepy. On a wheelie bed. White lights above flashing past. A man wearing dark green pushing him. Still something over his mouth. Cold hands. Men in white coats. One of them has something in his ears. Talking to him. Smell of disinfectant. Something cold on his chest. Where is mum? Wants his mum. Face itches. Bandages. The smiling woman feeds him. So sleepy. A man wearing a suit. Writing. Asking questions. So many questions. Where is mum? Wants to go home. A woman holds his hand. She smiles at him. Tells her that he wants to go home. She looks sad. Sitting in the back of a big blue car. The woman sat next to him. In the countryside. Lots of fields. Falls asleep. Big gates leading to a big house. Crunching sounds from under the car. Stands in front of big doors. The woman is leaving him. Grabs her hand. Wants to go home. A sad look. A man takes his hand. A big hallway. Eyes staring through the white banister at him. A big woman grabs him by the arm. Stairs. Lots of stairs. Tears. Children looking at him. Wants to go home. The big woman telling him that this is home. More stairs. The cold bedroom. Smelly bedroom. Pyjamas. A white bathroom. The woman’s rough hands. Shivers. Not his pyjamas but told to wear them. A cold bed. A hard bed. Wants his bed. Tears. So dark. Where is mum? White bars at the window. Told to go to sleep. So scared. Blinding lights. Clothes at the end of the bed. Breakfast. So scared. Tears. Boys calling him cry baby. The boy called Jim tripping him up. Breakfast dropped. Boys laughing at him. Had said the bad word. Shit. A very bad word. The woman had heard him. Big hands dragging him by his arm. Naughty cupboard. Must be punished. That language will not be tolerated. So scared. Pitch black. Smells of pee. Tears. Scratching sounds. So dark. He must not move. But it moves. Something on his foot. So scared. Must stay still. So dark. Light from under the door. Sees it. A long tail. It’s sniffing the air. Red eyes. So scared. Sharp pointy teeth. Yellow teeth. So scared. Sniffs at him. Sharp claws on his trousers. So scared. Climbs up his leg. Must not move. Sharp yellow fangs. So scared.
Kevin wakes screaming. Something has a hold of him. He hits out at the blurry shape in front of him. Makes contact with something hard, hurts his hand. Struggles to get to his feet, roller skates going in different directions, and grabs hold of a wooden counter to steady himself. Is suddenly overcome by the rich scent of flowers. And then he looks down at the man laying asleep on the floor, his head partially buried amongst several wreaths, and blood seeping from his mouth. Kevin’s heart pounding loudly in his chest as he scans the floor in search of the rat. But nothing. Smell of burning in the air. One last glance down at the man lying on the floor as he skates back out into Borrington High Street. And spots him immediately. Gabriel Brown.
His fist pounding heavily on the door, Gabriel yells at the blonde woman lurking in the shadows. She indicates that the Comfort Zone is shut, and points at the closed sign on the door. Turns away in frustration, his hand going to his mouth as he starts coughing, the air full of a thick, acrid smoke. And then comes the explosion. His head thumping, ears ringing and eyes watering, Gabriel, having been blown off his feet, rolls on to his stomach. Hands protecting the back of his head, feels a warm liquid trickling down his face as he’s showered in shards of glass. Risks looking towards the building opposite, a searing heat hits his face, eyes squinting as he stares at the fierce orange flames shooting out from the windows in the top flat. Stumbles to his feet, momentarily taking hold of the metal grate outside the Comfort Zone to steady himself. Sirens pierce through the roaring flames, Gabriel watching on through watery eyes as several vans screech to a stop nearby, mesh grills protecting the windscreens. Raised voices, the sound of heavy boots hitting concrete as riot police pour out of them. Shields raised, helmets on, they thump their batons against the shields as they work their way down the high street. The stench of the fire is overwhelming, Gabriel pulling his t-shirt up to cover his mouth, but it offers little if any protection from the smoke. He starts coughing violently. Knows he needs to escape this mayhem and staggers back towards the common.
25 Aftermath
"What's that Jay? Jay... You hearing me boy?"
One eyelid forcibly opened, a bright flashing light. Jason leans forward, chest burning, coughing violently. Tastes bile in his mouth. Struggles to open his eyes, closes them immediately, stinging painfully. But he recognises that rich Jamaican accent, Deidre, Tammy's mother. He must be in hospital, Deidre's a nurse.
"Jay, you gonna be fine boy. You hearing me?"
He nods. She grips his hand tightly.
"You inhaled a lot of smoke and you hit your head real hard so you have a mild concussion but you ok... You understand what I'm saying?"
Nods again. His throat parched.
"Be back later boy, got some others to go check on."
He tries to smile. Wants to ask her for some water. No words come out. He tries swallowing, his throat too dry. Drifts back off.
"JASON?"
A raised voice has a groaning Jason struggling to open his eyes again but they're still so sore. Starts hacking. Throat burning, struggling to talk, he can barely manage to whisper,
"Water."
"Sure, Jay, be right back."
Eyes closed again, he then feels a hand gently easing his head forward, a bottle held to his lips. He greedily gulps down the water.
"Slowly, Jay, take your time."
Forces himself to talk, his rasping voice barely audible,
"Thanks, Robbie.”
Somebody calling for Robbie. Sounds like Jessica. Robbie promising that he'll be back shortly. Jason sinks into what he takes to be a soft pillow and rolls on his side, drifts off again.
Something disturbs him, struggles to open his eyes. And then he suddenly jolts bolt upright, can barely stop himself from shrieking. Is momentarily frozen with fear at seeing the grey eyeball just inches from his face. With the deathly cold orb boring into him, he scrambles backward, vision still blurred but everything starting to slowly come back into focus. And then he recognises it. It’s Ms Scrawl's glass eye. Inwardly shuddering, he becomes aware of the body now bending over him.
"Bloody hell, Robbie, you trying to give me a heart attack? What the hell is she doing here?"
"She fainted, Jay, nowhere else to put her."
He looks at Ms Scrawl, stretched out on a pair of huge yellow bean bags beneath the cardboard cut-out of Rapunzel’s tower, her mouth wide open and snoring loudly. So much for being in the hospital.
"How long was I out for, anyway? Hours? And what is Deidre doing here?"
"Hours? No Jay, about thirty minutes. As for Deidre, she was with Susie and the others, here for the demo. And you know what Deidre's like, came charging in and more or less took over. Scrawl was in hysterics, Deidre had to slap her hard and then she fainted. Have got to admit, a few of us did applaud her. And then Deidre barged us all out of the way to get to you."
"Oh. And I slept through it all? Bugger. Look, was that you at the car Robbie?"
"What? Me? Playing superhero and running towards a car all set to explode?"
"Yer. Look thanks mate, don't know what to say."
"Hmm. Well there's nothing to thank me for, sorry mate, but it wasn’t me. I dashed back inside the library with Tammy, and we didn’t even realise what was happening until we heard Jazz shrieking ."
"Then who was it? Saved my life
."
"Everything was so chaotic, Jay, I haven’t got any idea. Jazz witnessed it all so you’d best speak to her"
"What's it like out there now?"
"All calmed down. The riot police arrived shortly after that car exploded, and soon took back control of the streets. And the police have rounded up near on twenty of the louts. None of them local, and for some bizarre reason, some have a tattoo of what looks to be a scorpion on their forearm. Jazz informs me that they're part of a large street gang from Knarlswood. All very odd."
"Is everybody okay though? Jazz?"
"She's fine. We all are. Got lucky, didn't we?"
Jason nods. Having helped him to his feet, Robbie pats him on the back before informing him that he looks like crap. That, at least, brings a smile to his face. Jazz and Tammy come running into the children's library. Both hesitate on seeing Ms Scrawl stretched out on the floor before quietly making their way towards him. Tammy, tears in her eyes, lunges into him, hugging him so tightly he’s struggling to breath. She finally stops trembling and releases him after he reassures her several times that he is ok.
"But you do look terrible, Jay. Want me to get you a coffee, or something?"
He shrugs, "Had better days, Tam, but yer, a coffee does sound good.”
And no sooner said and she is gone, Jazz takes hold of his hands. Eyes drawn to her shapely legs, feels his face flushing and can barely bring himself to lift his head, let alone meet her gaze, not after this morning.
“Jay?”
Now their eyes meet.
“Don’t you lie to me now, are you ok?”
“Throat’s sore and still a little woozy, but it will pass.”
A stern expression on her face, she punches his arm harder than intended
