bleeding onto the floor. I knew I was next. The thought brought a vivid image of Amy in tears once more and it felled me. ‘You’ll get yours, y’cunt,’ I yelled out. ‘Fucking sure you will.’
Paul leaned in, grabbed me by the hair, twisted it like a deadbolt. ‘You really haven’t a clue, have you?… You’ve no idea about any of this. You’re just lurching from one disastrous gamble to the next, and you still think that somehow it’ll all come right.’
I kept the bead on him, said, ‘It’ll be you swinging soon, Paul.’
His face tightened along the jawline; moisture glistened on his brow. One of the lads at my back spoke up: ‘Come on… let’s get going to the hall.’
Paul stepped aside. He dabbed at his face with the cuff of his shirt as I was forced past him. ‘We’ll see who’s swinging next.’
Chapter 37
THERE WERE ABOUT FIVE OF them, forcing me down the corridor, towards the hall where Ben and Calder had been killed. Images of Stevo’s blood followed me with every step. The thick darkness spreading over the floor, oozing from his ripped jugular. His face, beaten and bruised, returned too. Those black eyes of his, staring out from the unknown, they had seen more than he dare tell of; now he never would.
I was walking too slowly, got a shove in the back, a ‘Hurry the fuck up’. I felt like a condemned man taking his final steps. Chances were that I was. Had I ballsed up? Oh, yeah. Ben had lost his life, for what I didn’t know, or much care if truth be told. If this was the class of company he kept, they could all swing. Sure, his mother would go without answers, and I felt for her. But Stevo, he was different. He had just been caught in the crossfire. It burned me to know that I’d been part of that.
What had I done? I thought of Amy and my mother, all those who knew me, Hod, Mac… by Christ, I’d let them all down. Always had. But this kind of pain, the kind I’d be bringing them, was too much. None of them deserved it – I’d put them through too much already.
‘Get going, janny man.’ Another prod in the back, a kick. Got me moving.
‘You in a hurry?’ I snapped.
Paul spun; flecks of white spittle came as he spoke: ‘We should have done you first.’
‘Would that have saved Stevo?’
The fucker actually smiled at that. ‘Who’s to say?’
I pulled back from my restraints, tried to front up to him, but got tugged back, snapped, ‘You really get something out of this… playing God.’
Paul ran white fingers through his mop of red hair, then quickly slapped a hand on my shoulder. ‘I said, get going.’
He pushed the back of my head forward as I passed him. I collected another jab between the shoulder blades. Near dropped me on the floor – my knees caved, I coughed my guts up. There was some blood in there; I watched it drool down my front. I’d seen too much blood lately. The image of Stevo soaked head to toe in his own claret wasn’t ever going to leave me. But something told me I wasn’t going to have too long to be haunted by the image. The pack of boys was growing excited, they sensed another kill; they paced harder, faster.
Paul grabbed me again as we walked down the corridor to the main hall.
‘You have no idea, Dury… no clue what we’re about.’ He sounded as though he wanted to explain, to defend himself. Like I gave a shit what was contained in his messed-up head.
I spat more blood, trying to rile him. ‘You hear that, lads?… He’s trying to implicate you all.’
Got nothing but laughs. They were all well gone, high on themselves. To a one they felt protected, beyond censure. They had got away with too much already; no wonder they felt invincible. I wanted to know how those in the Craft might respond to this latest turn of events – there was only so much the filth could sweep under the carpet. Another two deaths in similar fashion to the others, and on the same night, were going to set some big alarm bells ringing. I watched as two of them ran to the door – pushed it open and stood there flagging us through. They looked enthusiastic, eager even. I remembered an old movie,
‘Nice try,’ said Paul, ‘but you’re not going to save your sorry arse, Dury.’ His face was flushed red, I could see the veins in his neck standing out like tensed rods: he was pumped for this. This sick freak was getting high on his own power to kill; it made me want to spit. As I looked at his face I knew I was staring into the last pair of eyes Stevo ever saw. I felt a heavy urge to gouge them out, stamp on them. I wanted to see Paul buried, and to dance on his grave.
An image of Ben hanging on a rope flashed before me. He had been Paul’s best friend, for Chrissake – what kind of human being could kill so coldly someone they knew, and for what? For nothing, it seemed. Another life wasted for nothing. To satisfy the ego of some twisted fuck. I didn’t want to count the lives this guy had wrecked; the Gillians of this world would be walking wounded for the rest of their days. He’d as well as killed them too.
It burned me to think of the people I’d be leaving behind… Amy especially would be felled. We’d only just got it together; I’d only just got over Debs. Things had looked so bright for us; for me, even. I know when that happens to expect the worst – but was there more than this?
‘That what you told your friend, is it?’ I blasted him. ‘That what you said to Ben?’
Paul spun, pulled back his coat-hanger shoulders and stuck his face in mine. ‘Ben chose his own way to go.’
I used what strength I had left to struggle, blared at him, ‘What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?… Chose to fucking hang himself, did he?’
‘He chose to face up to his own mistakes!’ Paul’s voice rose to a level I hadn’t thought him capable of. The red of his cheeks darkened, made his pale eyes sink deeper in his head.
‘And what was that, Paul… getting on the wrong side of you?’
‘Shut the fuck up, Dury.’
‘He pissed you off, your best mate, so you killed him.’
We’d reached the hall. Paul beat the heel of his hand off his forehead. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know a fucking thing, Dury.’
‘I know you’re off your fucking head… I know a sicko when I see one, a fucking mentaller, that’s what you are… You need help, you need locked up. You’re a fucking lunatic, Paul… do you know that?’
The two lads at the door held it open, flagged us to hurry. I could see that the lights were on inside. A heavy punt struck at my back. It hurt like hell but as I got dragged in I realised I wasn’t going to have too much time to dwell on things like pain. The crowd of lads ran for the stage; two blocked the doors with a broom handle then made for the centre where a noose hung over a three-legged stool. The group arranged themselves in a semicircle facing the floor. They seemed calm, as if they’d been down this road before. I wanted to slap them back to life; they stood there like Stepford Wives in some kind of trance. They looked as though they had no idea what they were about to do. They were about to commit murder, and it seemed like it was their entitlement. My mind jarred, spun… but I couldn’t take my eyes off the thick rope. I knew it had my name on it.
‘Wake up, you fucking idiots… think you’ll get away with this?’ I roared out.
They were impassive. Lost in some
I felt my arms tugged. The pain shot through my shoulders.
‘Accept your fate, Dury.’ Paul pointed to the noose and my captors sprang.
My Docs scraped noisily along the floorboards as I was hauled towards the stage. Figured they’d leave a few streaks; make for some interesting evidence. Was no way I was letting them think this was a suicide… or that I was into tugging myself with a rope round my neck. I was going out kicking and screaming. Wondered if anyone would pay attention to the evidence this time. Doubted it.
My mind ran with the faces of the people I loved, had loved. I knew it was said that at the point of death your whole life flashes before you. I’d dismissed it as a cliche, but now I knew it wasn’t. I saw my brother Michael, my father stood by him. I felt confused, lost. I knew my heartbeat couldn’t sustain this rate for much longer; the pulse
