Creature of the Night (5 page)

I was grand so long as it was light, but once it got dark
the things Grandma Dooley said came back into my
head. I got up and drew the curtains against the darkness,
which was a thing I never done in my life before
that.

My ma didn't notice. She was sat beside the fire,
same as last night, under her duvet. There was one of
those serial-killer films on the TV. There seemed to be
one on nearly every night. If there was as many serial
killers as there was serial-killer films we would all be
dead inside a year.

'You'll give yourself nightmares,' I said to my ma.

'I know,' she said. 'But it's a good one, isn't it? I
think the cop is doing it.'

I could see Dennis struggling to keep awake on her
lap because he knew that once he went to sleep she'd
carry him up and put him in his own bed under the
sloping roof.

There was no wind that night but the house still
made noises. Not big ones but little tiny ones. A click on
the stairs. A scuffle in the roof. A rattle from the bathroom.
The dog came in and sat by the fire, looking at my
ma. I wondered if she'd remembered to feed it.

It was the thought of the child that gave me the
creeps, howling with pain and giving orders in the night.
I kept thinking I heard her and I kept looking round at
the door. What could have been wrong with her that
they had to hide her away like that? And how did they
kill her? What did they do with the body? What if it was
still in the house somewhere?

Dennis was dozing, then jerking awake, then dozing
again. The dog pricked its ears and sat up and looked
towards the window. What had it heard? With a horrible
shock I remembered I'd left the axe leaning up against
the side of the hayshed. I meant to put it away but I'd
ended up walking most of the way home with Coley and
I didn't think of it again after I got back.

It definitely couldn't stay there. You never knew
what kind of weirdos might be wandering around in the
dark. I put my jacket on and went out. I thought I'd have
a smoke but once I got out there I didn't want to hang
around. The moon was out and looking at me. Something
moved under the hedge.

I grabbed the axe. I was going to put it back in the
small shed where I got it from, but what was the point
of that? The psycho could find it there as easily as in the
hayshed. And once he had it our back door would be
matchsticks and we would be butcher's meat.

I looked around but I couldn't think of anywhere to
put it where the psycho wouldn't find it. He was probably
watching me right now. I didn't run, but the devil
was behind me when I went through the back door and
closed it behind me, and locked it.

I looked at the axe. What the hell was I going to do
with it now? I couldn't leave it lying around in the
kitchen because if he got in through the back door he
would find it sitting there, like an invitation. So I took it
upstairs with me and propped it up in the corner of my
room.

During the next ad break my ma wrapped Dennis in
the duvet and carried him upstairs. I thought he would
wake but he didn't. She brought another duvet down
with her when she came.

'My own bed at last!' she said. She settled back in
and lit a smoke.

We were doing well. We hadn't had a row all
evening, but now Dennis was gone there was a good
chance she'd start talking again. So before the next ad
break came on I took myself upstairs and lay in bed with
the light on, listening to the screams and thuds and
creepy music from the TV. But it wasn't long before it
came to an end and I heard my ma flushing the toilet and
coming upstairs.

She stuck her head round the door.

'I was right,' she said. 'It was the cop doing it.'

I said, 'Oh,' and she went out. But a couple of minutes
later she was back.

'What did you do with that axe?' she said.

I nodded towards it and she seen it in the corner.
She laughed and said, 'You're worse than I am!'

I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing, and for a
delirious minute the two of us were giggling together like
best friends, like we used to one time, in the dream time
before Paul and Dennis came along. One bit of me didn't
want it to be happening, but it felt so brilliant. I was
doubled up on the bed and she was clinging to the door
frame, trying to stay on her feet. But she had to spoil it.
She always, always, always had to ruin everything. She
couldn't leave it alone, just laugh and go. She came over
and sat on the bed and said, 'Ah, my Bobby,' and she
started trying to tickle me. Can you believe it? Tried to
tickle me as if I was a little kid like Dennis.

I stopped laughing and tried to push her away, but
she didn't get it. She thought I was playing, too.

'Get off me!' I said.

She lunged for my armpit, going, 'Bobby, Bobby,
Bobby.'

I pushed her away again, vicious hard. I hurt her.
She got up, all surprised and offended.

'I was only messing!' she said.

'Well don't,' I said. 'Don't fucking mess with me, all
right?'

I seen tears start in her eyes and I turned myself over
and pulled the duvet over my head. I listened to her footsteps.
She didn't go into her room. She went across to
Dennis's room instead, and when she came back the
springs on her bed creaked and I heard her whispering
and I knew she had brought Dennis in with her. For her
sake this time, not his.

Then my own tears came. Not because I'd hurt her
and not because she'd gone to get Dennis, but because
I'd let my guard down. I'd laughed with her and let her
in. But you can't open yourself to one thing and not
another. Once your guard is down everything is all in
there waiting to come at you. The empty space where my
future should have been. The pain. The whole big dirty
mess of my life.

I didn't make the same mistake twice. An hour later I
was outside the house, standing beside the Skoda, the
key in my hand. It was creepy out there in the dark. I
couldn't see my hand in front of my face and I kept hearing
things – rustles and scratches and little thuds, like
someone walking down the road or up the drive. I kept
thinking the child was behind me. But I was used to
being scared and I didn't mess up. It's impossible to open
a car door in total silence, but I came close to it. I'd had
plenty of practice.

I put the key in the ignition and turned it to free the
steering lock, then leaned across the driver's seat and let
off the handbrake. The car didn't move, and for a
moment I thought the whole plan was a non-runner, but
I leaned on the door frame and rocked her a few times
and whatever was seized freed up and she began to roll.
I jumped in, holding the open door with one hand and
the steering wheel with the other, but she was rolling too
slowly so at the bottom of the drive I got out again and
gave her a hand, pushing against the door frame and
steering with my left hand. She speeded up and soon I
was running, and then I jumped in and let her freewheel
until she was almost at the bottom of the hill.

I decided to try a jump-start – it would be quieter
than the starter motor. I put her into third and let out the
clutch. She purred into life so quietly it was like she
knew exactly what I wanted and was bending over backwards
to help me.

At the end of the road I stopped to find the headlights
switch, then I turned towards the village, and
Ennis, and Dublin. I would never, as long as I lived, slag
off a Skoda again.

I was scared shitless for the first while, watching for the
guards, checking my speed, dipping my headlights
religiously. But there were hardly any cars on the road
and once I was past Ennis I began to relax and enjoy
myself. I turned on the radio and thought about Coley
and the chainsaw.

That was some brilliant machine. I couldn't wait to
get my hands on it, but Coley did the first bit, to show
me, and I split the chunks he sawed with the axe so
they'd fit on the fire. Then he handed it over to me and
I ripped into those logs like I hated them, and he was
right – the saw went through them like they were butter.

After a while he made me take a break. He said it
was to fill up the petrol, but I think he wanted to make
me stop for a while as well. I hadn't noticed it, but when
I went to let go of the chainsaw my fingers were stuck
around the handles, like some kind of cramp. I had to
stretch them a few times before they would work at all.
My shoulders were cramped as well, and there was a
pain in my neck and my back. Coley laughed at me.

'It's heavier than it looks,' he said.

I could still feel the pains now, sitting in the car. It
proved I'd done something, and it wasn't just messing or
killing time, neither. We'd cut enough firewood to last
my ma for weeks.

On the far side of Limerick I stopped to get petrol. It was
one of those twenty-four-hour places where you have to
pay first before you put in your petrol. I almost drove
straight on when I seen that, but then I was worried that
I might run out before I found another one, so I got out
and dropped my twenty euro through the little window
and I tried to look casual and grown-up but the guy
didn't really look at me at all. He looked tired and
bored.

So five minutes later I was back on the road, loads
of petrol in the tank, and nothing but the empty road
between me and the lads.

I went straight to Fluke's and parked the car in a dark
side street behind his block of flats. I'd passed a few
garda cars but none of them had taken any notice of me
and there were none around now. I was high as a kite.
I'd made it.

I rang Fluke's number. He never set up his message
box and the phone rang and rang for ages but eventually
he came on.

'What's up, Bobser?' He sounded half asleep, and
not too pleased.

'I'm outside,' I said. 'I've got a car.'

'Outside where?' he said.

'Outside your place. I need to get rid of this motor.
Are you coming?'

'I'm not at home,' he said. 'I'm at my girlfriend's
place.'

'Where's that?' I said. 'I'll come and get you.'

'Ah, fuck off, Bobser,' he said, and he hung up.

I swore at the phone. It wasn't the hero's welcome
I'd expected. I knew Fluke had a girlfriend but she'd
never got in the way of us before. Maybe that was
because he usually called the shots and I just went along.
I couldn't make it out. I'd only been gone two days.
Things couldn't have changed that much in two days. I
wanted to ring him back and tell him what I thought of
him and his girlfriend, but I didn't have much credit and
I didn't want to waste it. I sent him a text instead.

dickhead

Then I rang Beetle. Three times. And three times I
got his answer message.

'Beetle,' was all it said.

I swore at the phone again. He was probably out
cold. It happened all the time. He couldn't hold his
drink, the wanker. If he had a skinful he just passed out
and nothing you could do would wake him. The first
time it happened we carried him home but it took us all
night. After that we just left him on the street or
wherever he landed up.

So that left Mick. He would be up for it. He was
always wired and he hardly ever slept. His flat was just
round the corner.

But after I phoned him I wished I hadn't. There was
a manic edge to his voice that he sometimes got when he
was out of his head on crack.

'Stay there, stay there, stay there, stay there,' he
said. 'I'll be with you in two minutes. Two minutes.'

It was ten, though, and it left me too much time to
think.

Why was I so keen to get rid of the car? Getting rid
of it meant burning it out or driving it into deep water
somewhere to hide it from the guards. But where was the
point in doing that? I was missing and so was the car.
There was nowhere I was likely to go except Dublin. The
cops didn't need to put two and two together. They
already had four. It would be far smarter for me to get
out while I was winning and just walk away, instead of
getting Mick involved. That was just asking for trouble.

He drove like a lunatic, even when he wasn't
hammered. Speeding up the arse of other cars and
pulling out at the last moment to overtake them. If something
was coming the other way it was their look-out.
We all ran red lights but the rest of us usually checked to
make sure nothing was coming the other way. Mick
didn't. If he seen a red light he put his foot to the floor.
The nearer the miss the better he liked it. It was a miracle
he hadn't already killed us all.

So I thought of just leaving the Skoda where it was
with the keys in it, and making a quiet getaway. I could
phone Mick in the morning and say the cops came along
and I had to leg it. But he wouldn't believe me. And anyway,
where would I go? I'd come up to be with the lads.
Without them there was nothing for me here.

I tried staying in the driver's seat but there was no
arguing with Mick when he was in that kind of mood.

'Move fucking over,' he said. He leaned in the door.
He stank of burning chemicals. 'We'll take it out to
Bray,' he said. 'We'll push it into the sea. Where did you
rob it?'

I told him. He didn't remember I was gone to Clare,
even though I'd been talking about it for weeks. He put
his foot down and scorched away up the street. Every
time he changed down the gearbox made a sound like
breaking bones.

'Fucking Skoda,' he said. 'Fucking heap of shit.
Where did you rob this from?'

He asked me that seven more times before we got
across the river. After the second time I stopped answering.
I shut my eyes and hung on to the handle above the
door. As if it could possibly save me. I wanted to put my
seat belt on but me and the lads didn't do that. I'd never
hear the end of it if I put it on now.

I don't know how we made it as far as Dalkey. We
had a clear road, I suppose. Not much traffic around at
five o'clock on a Monday morning. And the cops must
have all been asleep. I never crossed Dublin before without
seeing a garda car, at any time of the night or day.

I almost wished for one. The Skoda was shrieking
with pain. Gears, engine, the brakes on the odd time
when he thought of using them. I tried to get into the
mood and make myself enjoy the ride but I couldn't.
This wasn't like the other times when we were all
together. Fluke or Beetle would always have got the
wheel off Mick without pissing him off. They knew how
to handle him, but I didn't. There was only one way this
ride could end.

I seen it coming. There was a roundabout in front
of us but Mick wasn't slowing down.

'Brake!' I yelled at him, but his foot was rammed to
the floor and he wasn't moving it. There was another car
on the roundabout. It was nearly light but it still had its
headlights on. The driver saw us coming and he jammed
on the brakes and swerved, so the cars were side on
when we hit and we both ended up on the grass in the
middle of the roundabout, a few metres apart.

Mick had blood on his face but he was busting himself
laughing. The other fella wasn't. He had a face like
a tomato and he was already out of his car. I jumped out
and tried to stop him. It was for his own sake but he
wouldn't listen to me. He was roaring and shouting and
he kept coming.

The door of the Skoda on Mick's side was bashed in
from the crash, but he moved across to my side, fast and
strong as an ape, and got out. He wasn't laughing now.

'I'll fucking burst him,' he said.

I shouted at the other driver. 'Fuck off! Get out of
here! He'll kill you!'

But it was already too late. Mick put his head down
and went at him like a bull.

I didn't stay to watch.

I ran.