noise now, a rushing sound he couldn’t account for. He still couldn’t hear what Dean and Wayne were saying. They stood a few feet from each other, hands moving, mouths opening and closing. No one getting angry, it seemed. Not yet, anyway.
Billy looked at Adele then Ryan. He felt a surge of something through him, moving down from his head and radiating out through his body to the surrounding area. Immense energy.
He straightened up and came out of the shadows, walking as calmly as he could towards the scene in front of him, ready to interact with the world. It felt like he was walking on the deck of a ship in a storm, and he put his arms out to steady himself.
Everyone turned.
Dean shook his head. ‘Jesus fucking Christ.’
The Mackies looked confused.
‘Who the fuck is this cunt?’ Wayne said, turning to Dean. ‘Is he with you?’
‘No, but every time I turn around, the cunt seems to be there.’
‘I’m Billy Blackmore.’ His voice sounded like ice cracking in a glass. ‘And I have something to say.’
‘No you don’t,’ Dean said. He turned to his two thugs. ‘I thought I told you twats to give him a message he’d understand.’
The one standing on his own shook his head. ‘I think he’s brain-damaged or something. He had bandages round his head.’
‘Oh yeah,’ Dean said. ‘What happened to your bandages, dickhead?’
‘I need to tell you all something.’
‘Billy, stop.’ It was Adele.
He turned to her. She had a pleading look on her face.
‘It’s OK,’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘You’re going to ruin everything. We’re getting Ryan back.’
‘And I can help.’
‘This is a fucking joke,’ Wayne said, turning to his gang. ‘We’re out of here.’
Adele broke free from the thug holding her. ‘No, wait. Ignore him. Let’s sort this out, I need Ryan back, please. This guy has nothing to do with it.’
Billy walked closer. ‘I do.’
Both Dean and Wayne pointed their guns at him.
Adele turned to him. ‘Just shut the fuck up,’ she said.
He thought he could smell burning. He stopped for a moment, waiting for the flashes in the corner of his eye, the blissful release of a seizure. But nothing happened. He raised a hand and rubbed at his head, making Dean and Wayne focus their guns on him.
Everyone was looking at him, even Ryan. He tried to read what was going through the boy’s mind. Billy had never had a dad, his mum never talked about it. But he knew about losing a parent. How old was the boy again, five? What could Billy remember from when he was five years old? Next to nothing. He hoped Ryan wouldn’t remember any of this, would be able to blank it from his mind and live a good and productive life. As much as anyone could.
The burning smell came back to him, a flicker of smoky acidity somewhere at the back of his palate.
Adele turned to stare at Ryan, almost breaking down at the sight of him so close but still unreachable.
Billy looked out beyond Dean and Wayne and the guns pointing at him, at the twinkling of the city, thousands of ordinary people sleeping and dreaming. He wished he were out there with them.
‘I killed Frank,’ he said.
Adele looked like her face was about to dissolve. ‘What did you say?’
He cleared his throat and looked away, couldn’t stand to see her eyes on him.
‘I said I killed Frank.’
‘You must be fucking brain-damaged,’ Dean said, stepping closer. ‘This is some sick joke, you little shit.’
Billy turned to face Dean, serenity washing over him.
‘No joke. I killed your brother. It was an accident.’
‘Are you serious?’
Billy nodded. He stepped forward, ignoring the guns pointed at him, and walked between Dean and Wayne. He pointed down to Queen’s Drive, to the smattering of trees that lined the road.
‘We were driving home from a night out. We hit him. We thought he was dead. We moved him off the road and drove away.’
‘Billy.’ It was Adele behind him. ‘Look at me.’
He turned and raised his eyes to hers. Her face was full of confusion and hate.
‘You killed Frank?’
He tried to speak but couldn’t, just nodded.
‘All this time, it was you. I can’t…’
He felt the blow from Dean’s gun before he saw it, a heavy thunk of metal on his temple, right about where the bump was, sending familiar bolts of agony through his wrecked body, his fucked mind.
He dropped to his knees and tears came to his eyes.
Dean stood over him, eyes blazing, teeth bared.
‘I’m gonna enjoy killing you.’ He swung a boot into Billy’s stomach. The breath wheezed out of his body along with his spirit, and it felt good to have nothing left in him, nothing left to fight for, just pain and more pain sweeping through him.
He looked up. Adele was watching, tears in her eyes, her hands shaking.
Another blow, this time a kick to his side, a deeper pain than before rocking him as he flinched away from the force of it.
‘Jesus fuck.’ It was Wayne’s voice. ‘Look.’
The blows stopped. Billy looked up and Dean was gazing over his head, out over the cliff. Adele was looking the same way. Billy shuffled round slowly to see the flames. He scrunched his eyes tight then opened them again. Still there. Thick orange flames licking up over the edge of the cliff, only twenty feet away, spreading left and right.
Wayne walked over as far as he could, but the fire had already caught the top of the gorse, and he was pushed back by the heat as thick, flowery smoke billowed upwards into the crystalline sky. He turned back to his brother.
‘That was your joint, you dick. You’ve set fire to the whole fucking hillside.’
Billy’s sight was blurry with tears, his eyes now stinging from the smoke. The flames were rampaging through the dry, spindly gorse, weeks of hot weather turning the whole of the Crags into perfect kindling. Reams of smoke rolled over each other as they fought their way into the sky. Billy could feel the heat against his damaged face, searing his skin as he sat hunched over, struggling for breath.
‘We’ve gotta get the fuck out of here,’ Wayne said.
‘Not until we’ve got Ryan back.’ Dean produced a second handgun. He was pointing one at Wayne, the other straight at Billy. ‘And not until I’ve killed this cunt either.’
‘Hey.’
It was a voice from the other direction. The Mackies’ third guy. Billy’s head swam as he turned and saw Ryan running. It all seemed to slow down, the flickering flames, his little legs moving, Adele reaching towards him, Wayne swinging the shotgun round. He seemed to hesitate as he tracked the small figure with the barrels.
Billy found himself rising, his muscles aching beyond words as he thrust his body forward, a couple of stumbling steps, then he threw himself into Wayne’s arm, knocking the shotgun, sending a deafening blast ricocheting around the cliff walls opposite.
Billy felt the judder of a new and terrible pain in his leg, a screaming muscular agony he’d never experienced. He crumpled and fell in a heap on top of Wayne.
Wayne pushed him off. As he rolled, Billy realised the source of the pain, a gaping wound in his thigh, muscle and flesh all ragged and torn, a shy peek of white bone poking out.
‘Fuck.’
He clutched at his leg as he lay there, sweat soaking his brow, the roar of the fire and the shotgun blast
