The Bombs That Brought Us Together (15 page)

‘No idea,’ I said.

‘Because I need to have air in my lungs every day, know what I mean?’

‘I think so.’

‘I need to see daylight.’

I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN, BIG MAN.

‘I can understand that,’ I said.

‘But the thing is, Law, there is no daylight any more.’ The Big Man walked towards me. ‘Little Town has been cast into permanent darkness. Know what I mean?’

‘Erm …’ It was hard to think. Hard to answer his questions. Hard to breathe.

‘And do you know who’s responsible for this darkness, Law?’

‘The bombs?’ I said.

The Big Man’s voice changed. It became more sinister, husky. His eyes opened up. His shoulders arched. He walked slower, but closer. Sweat seeped through my clothes.

‘Those Old Country bastards put Little Town into darkness, Law. That’s who’s responsible.’

My mouth was as dry as Gandhi’s slipper.

‘It’s not right, is it?’ The Big Man said to his lackeys, who, right on cue, shook their heads. ‘And now their troops are everywhere, trying to make us into an Old Country clone. Changing the rules. Taking away our freedom. It’s not right, Law, is it?’

‘No, it’s not right,’ I said.

He leaned into my face, his pronounced nose almost touching mine.

‘What are you going to do about it?’ he whispered.

‘I don’t really have any solutions, Big Man,’ I said, which was true.

‘Do you know what we have to do, Charlie?’ We were eyeball to eyeball by this stage. His eyes wide. I was unsure if the
we
he was referring to was me and him. Or was The Big Man using the royal
we
? I think he said
Charlie
to butter me up, thinking I’d believe we were pals.

‘No, I don’t know what we have to do.’

He smiled a massive toothy one.

What happened next made the huge coal mine narrow into one tiny dot in my eye. The Big Man reached behind his back, pulled a gun from his jeans and pointed it right in my face. I couldn’t speak, as if some hand had entered my mouth and blagged my breath. I didn’t cry. The sound I made was worse than crying; I think it was the sound of a trapped rabbit.

‘I’ll ask you again, Charlie Law. Do you know what we have to do?’

I WISH I DID KNOW WHAT TO DO. I WISH I HAD ALL THE ANSWERS.

Just say something, Charlie. Anything.

I had no words for him; my mind went blank. My eyes stared directly inside the hole of the gun. Or is it the barrel? I didn’t know. Trapped rabbit. If ever there was a time for words, and I loved words too, this was it. Here I was, like a fool, with none.

‘Let me tell you what we have to do, shall I?’ The Big Man said. I can’t be sure but I think I nodded. ‘We have to take
this fucking town back, that’s what we have to do.’

The gun was still staring at me.

‘People like you and me have to resist those bastards.’

The Big Man refused to lower the gun from my forehead.

‘You’ve got a brain in there, Charlie.’ He tapped the gun off my head. The metal was cold against my skin. ‘A good brain. We could use that brain.’ He rested the barrel on my head.

‘P … P … Please don’t sh … sh … shoot, Big Man.’

Tapped three times.

‘P … P … Please, Big Man. I haven’t done anything,’ I pleaded.

‘You stole those apples.’ His tone had changed.

‘I was hungry.’

‘
My
apples.’

‘I didn’t know they were yours.’

‘You do now.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Big Man.’

The Big Man’s thumb pulled back the little lever on the top part of the gun; I didn’t even know the name of this part, that’s how un-guns I was.

The gun clicked.

Click!

Real tears fell down my cheeks.

‘Close your eyes.’

‘Please, Big Man. Please.’

‘Close them.’

‘Don’t.’

‘Close.’

I closed my eyes as tightly as possible. Snot streamed out of my nose.

‘I loved those apples, Law.’

‘I’m so sor–’

‘One thing I hate is thieves.’

‘I’m not a thief, Big Man, I was hun–’

‘Keep ’em closed.’

No more pleading. I accepted my fate. I accepted that this was it. I squeezed my eyes hard until little white dots appeared under my lids. Waited.

Waited.

Waited.

‘You can open them now.’

Right one first, followed by the left.

The Big Man and his brain-dead heavies laughed. Their bellies laughed. Their hair laughed.

‘I’m just screwing with you, Charlie. Come on, get up.’

JUST SCREWING WITH ME?

‘Up.’ The Big Man directed me with his gun.

I got up.

‘I thought you were going to shoot,’ I said, wiping snot from my chin and tears from my eyes.

‘Obviously I wasn’t going to shoot you, was I?’

‘I thought for a minute–’

‘What do you take me for, Charlie? An Old Country scumbag?’ The Big Man put his face near to mine. He saw how watery mine was. ‘You OK?’

‘I think so.’

‘Sure?’

‘Yes, I’m fine.’ Snotters still streamed out of my nose. I had to use my shirtsleeve as a hanky.

‘That the first time you’ve had a gun pointed at you?’

‘No, the patrol have done it.’

‘Apart from that.’

‘I think Old Country have them pointed at us in the street, but we don’t see them.’

‘Here.’ The Big Man held the gun out for me to take it. ‘Have you ever held one of these, Law?’

‘No, never.’

‘Take it.’ He thrust it towards me. I flinched. ‘Come on. Don’t be shy. Take it, go ahead. It’s OK.’ I stared at it. It wasn’t the gun’s fault for making the tears flow.

‘It’s only a gun, Charlie. It won’t bite.’ I wanted to hold it. I lifted up my writing hand. The Big Man placed the gun into my palm. The metal was heavy, much heavier than I’d have imagined it to be. Two, maybe three kilos. Heavier than a bag of sugar. The handle was warm from The Big Man’s hand. Sweaty.

‘It’s heavy,’ I said.

‘You need a strong arm.’

I lifted the gun upwards and looked through the small V-shaped aimer. It wasn’t intentional but I pointed at them.

‘Careful now,’ The Big Man said.

‘I am being,’ I said.

I straightened my arm to a locked position.

‘I bet you’d love to,’ The Big Man said. The gun wasn’t pointed directly at him, but it was close enough.

The little monster on my shoulder arrived:

I bet you’d love to, Charlie. I just bet you would. Go on, squeeze. Come on, Charlie, just give it a little squeeze. In fact, three wee squeezes. One for each of them. You’ll be OK, not one of them is faster than a flying bullet. Not one of them. Aim. Fire. One down. Fire. Two down. Fire. Three down. Easy-peasy. No one would ever know because no one will hear. Jump in that lift and you’re free. Go on, you heard the man: I bet you’d love to. Put that little finger of yours on the trigger and DO IT! He deserves it. He’s scum of the earth. One little squeeze. Boom!

I put my finger on the trigger, rubbed it up and down, inside it and out. I aimed to my left, to where The Big Man was standing.
Big Man first. Floored. One metre to the right. Muscles. Floored. Two metres to my left. Square chops. Floored. Lift. Up. Daylight. Air. Happy days. Easy.

‘It would feel good, eh?’ The Big Man said.

‘Maybe.’

‘I’m afraid you can’t, Law.’

‘I think I could,’ I said.

‘That’s not what I mean; it’s not a question of you having the bottle or not.’

‘I do.’ I did.

‘The thing isn’t loaded.’

Another blow. Another dagger to the heart. I dropped the gun and swung my arm by my side. It hurt a little with the strain.

‘Do you want to fire it?’ The Big Man asked.

I didn’t need to think for a minute.

‘Yes.’

The Big Man nodded to Muscles, who went off into the darkness.

‘You have to listen and do as I say, do as I tell you, got it?’

‘OK, got it.’

Muscles emerged from the darkness with a case. The Big Man took the gun from me and handed it to Muscles. He put bullets in the gun, loaded it up. Handed it back to The Big Man, who then handed it to me.

‘Do not even think about squeezing that trigger, Law.’

‘OK.’ The gun felt even heavier.

Muscles put his hand inside the case and pulled another gun from it. It looked identical to mine. He handed it to The Big Man. We had our guns. A duel? To the death? The guy with the square jaw walked out of the darkness – I
hadn’t seen him go – wheeling a clothes-shop mannequin. The target.

‘There it is, Charlie. Just pretend it’s an Old Country whore you’re firing at.’

I didn’t want to shoot any Old Country whores.

‘Before we shoot, Big Man, I wanted to ask you something.’

‘Shoot,’ he said. Everyone laughed like it was the best joke they’d ever heard in their lives. I sniggered out of fear.

‘Am I meant to be working for you now?’

‘You’re far too young to be working for anyone.’

‘Pav just thought, you know, you might want us to run errands and stuff.’

‘Does he now?’

‘And Norman said something about scratching our backs and then we have to scratch his, or yours.’

‘You leave Norman to me.’

‘I suppose Pav wants to know what plans you have for us,’ I said.

The Big Man looked to the heavens and gave one huge howling laugh.

‘What plans I have for you? That’s good, I like that, Law.’

After that he pointed the gun at me again. The gun with the shiny little bullets loaded inside it.

‘Are you Old Country’s bitch, Law?’ The Big Man asked.

Twice in one day that female dog word had been chucked in my direction.

‘No, I’m not.’

The gun got closer.

‘Why didn’t he come and ask me himself?’

‘He’s scared.’

‘Of what, me?’

‘Everything in Little Town.’

‘Including me?’

I could smell the closeness of the gun once again. Loaded this time. Mine hung down at my side, but my mind was ready in case I needed to be a quick draw.

‘Including you, yes.’

‘Me? I’m a pussycat, Law.’

‘He’s just worried in case he gets into trouble, that’s all.’

‘How would
I
get him into trouble?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘Are you saying The Big Man’s a troublemaker, Law?’

‘No. He is scared that he’d get into trouble with Old Country troops, his mum and dad or at school. Just trouble in general.’

‘He’s an Old Country refugee, your mate? An abandoner.’

‘Yes, I suppose he is.’

‘So getting into trouble with the troops wouldn’t be good for him, now, would it?’

‘It’d be terrible.’

‘He wouldn’t want them to find out that he’s here, would he?’

‘I wouldn’t think so, no.’

‘He’d be stuffed?’

‘I think he would.’

‘So, it would be beneficial to your little buddy if those Old Country bastards got hounded out of here, wouldn’t it?’

‘Probably.’

‘But here’s a question for you, Charlie. How can we drive Old Country out of Little Town? How do you think we can do that, eh?’

HOW THE EFF DO I KNOW?

‘I don’t know really …’

‘You don’t really know?’

‘No.’

‘I’ll tell you then, shall I?’

‘OK.’

‘You have to speak their lingo, if you know what I mean.’

I didn’t.

‘You have to learn Old Country lingo?’

‘No, you fight fire with fire. It’s the only lingo they know.’ He held up his gun again.

‘Can’t our people just speak to their people?’

‘That’s the thing, Charlie. I wish it were that simple. You see, those bastards don’t do speaking; the only speaking they
do is with bombs and bullets, not with their tongues. You get me?’

Of course I knew what he meant. I wasn’t stupid. I was just lost for words, and thirsty. I wasn’t sure if I was signing up for something or being coerced into something that had nothing to do with me.

‘It’s the only way, Law,’ The Big Man said before turning to his men. ‘It’s the only way, lads, right?’

‘Right,’ Muscles said.

‘The only way,’ Square Jaw said.

‘But I’m not sure how me and Pav can help though, Big Man.’

‘Oh, you can help in many, many ways.’

‘But I don’t have any muscles,’ I said, flexing my left arm to show this. ‘I don’t have any money either,’ I said, tapping my pockets. ‘And I don’t have any of these,’ I said, holding the gun up and waving it around a bit.

‘Careful now.’

‘So there’s nothing I can do,’ I said, hoping he’d say something like:
Aw, that’s a shame, nice speaking with you anyway. You can make your own way out, can’t you? See you around, Charlie.

‘No one can do
nothing
, Law,’ he said.

‘Pav’s the same as me, he can’t do anything either,’ I said.

‘Do you trust him, even though he’s Old Country?’

‘Yes.’

‘You tell him from me that he’s got nothing to worry about.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Of course, seriously. I’m here to look after you both. You tell him that as well.’

‘How are you going to look after us?’

‘You let me worry about that.’

Of course it was impossible. Old Country was a proper organisation. Wealthy. The Big Man was just some big Rascal in a small pond.

‘And what can I do?’ I asked, fearing the answer.

‘Oh, you’ve got no idea how brilliant and vital you can be, Charlie. No idea. Do you want Little Town to return to how it was before, or not?’ he asked.

Well, to be honest, a part of me did and a part of me didn’t.

‘Of course I do.’

‘I need you to do something for me, for Little Town. Can you do that?’

DEPENDS WHAT IT IS.

‘Erm … OK … what is it?’

‘How is your mum these days?’

‘Erm … she’s good,’ I said.

‘How long will that medicine last her?’

‘A couple of weeks, maybe.’

‘That’s good; a boy needs his mum, doesn’t he?’

‘Erm … I suppose …’

‘And how’s your shed coming along?’

‘Great. I mean, it looks good with the new chairs. Thanks.’

‘Pleasure. And the locks, they work OK? Secure?’

‘Very.’