Authors: Steve Tasane
Mus is with me on this.
They sneaks, ain’t they? Night sneaks. Hence the windows
.
What windows?
me and Sis say at the same time.
Windows
. He shrug.
That how they go about their business. Why they thrivin’ in this hot weather. On account of we all leave our windows open
. He sighs.
You two in need of a education
. He turns to me.
Marsh, when you saw their scatterin’ of bullet-hole poo, what was it nex’ to?
The window
. Boy got a point. The Megas get at us by comin’ in and out of our windows. Just wish he wasn’t lookin’ at us like we was idiots. Comin’ from Muskrat, it a insult. Then I think, I spent all night tryin’ to stay awake, shinin’ my torch round all my cupboards and beneath the beds, and all I needed to have done was
shut the windows
. Musk is right. Pass me the dunce’s hat.
These guys is lazy
says Musk, all confident.
They don’ want no battle. Trust me
.
Here we be, standin’ by the rubbish chute, second floor of The Finger, me with goggles, orange boilersuit, belt round my waist with a dog lead attached to it, my loyal crew at the other end of the lead.
Sabreboy starin’ at me, wonderin’ why the wrong one of us is on the end of the leash.
What?
They
takin’ Marshall for walkies?
Me and Mus playin’ tug-o’-war with the cable, jus’ to prove how antisnappable it is. Mus ain’t got no chance in a game of tug, on account of his scrawniness. I pull him over, but Mus bein’ Mus he ain’t lettin’ go of his end, and he make me reel him in like he a big fish and I Angler of the Year.
Sis gets a strop on, says we gotta get ourselves organized.
We take our positions. Sis got the plastic handle of the lead slipped round her own belt, Mustaph got his arms wrapped round her waist, his hips diggin’ up against her bottom, like a couple of naughty doggies. Compo walk round the corner right now, ain’t none of us goin’ to live it down.
Boilersuit equipped with multiple pockets, so I got my mobile close to hand, as well as the Doktor Doom. As the man said
What could possibly go wrong?
Two of them lift me feet first, face down into the gapin’ hole in the wall, look like someone done a job on a cash machine with a JCB. Stink comin’ up from the shaft so bad, no one could tell whether it be a giant bug den or jus’ months’ worth of tower-block crap. If I’m really unlucky, it be both.
Sabre is trottin’ up and down on the spot, whinin’, agitated. This
way
outta his comfort zone.
I shuggle my legs and my waist over the lip of the shaft, rest there on my elbows a moment, before I begin my abseil.
Goodbye to bad rubbish
says Mustaph. He ain’t even funny.
Black walls covered in slime. As I lower myself, look up, the hole I crawled through is a white square of light. I think it is the light at the end of the tunnel, and I am travelling away from it. Smell my own terror sweat, addin’ to the ripe mix assaultin’ my nose.
Slime coverin’ the walls is actually
green
. No, it isn’t. Mustapha’s dumb goggles makin’ everythin’ look green. I inch my way down, soles of my trainers against the wall of the shaft, keep my balance, like I’m mountaineerin’ into Hell.
Look up. White square of light shrunk down so it look no bigger than a letter box. Remind me of Mr B’s letter box, but now I’m on the same side of it as the bugs.
Leapin’.
Leapin’ right at my face.
Get a grip. I can hear my own panic, breathin’ its echo round and round me. Reach for my knife – jus’ checkin’, jus’ checkin’ – throw my balance out, feet slip on the slime, whole body twizzle round the leash, my back thuddin’ against the side of the shaft.
Ooph!
(
Ooph!
) go my echo.
Y’all right down there?
(
…
’
own there?
)
Voice from a mile away. Earth callin’ Marshall?
Marsh?
(
…
’
arsh?
)
Un-huh
.
(
…uh
.)
I give ’em a thumbs up, forgettin’ they can’t see jack.
This is stupidity.
Pitter-pat.
No, no. Tell me I didn’t hear that. Jus’ my feet gettin’ a grip back on the wall, is all.
Pitter-pat.
Jus’ my trainers, is all.
Bend my head. Focus on the bottom of the shaft. Can’t make much out. Shapes. Junk?
I hear a
ping
!
High above. A
clump
. A—
Oh shit!
(
…
’
hit!
)
I’m fallin’, droppin’ to the bottom of the pit.
Twist myself roun’ jus’ before I hit the bottom.
Green vision plummetin’ up at my goggles. Scrunch into somethin’ soft and brittle.
Snap
,
crackle
and
pop
! Blackness. Whole body swallowed up. Buzzin’ in my ears.
Gasp. Insects shootin’ into my mouth. Fillin’ my nose. Scream. Hear no scream, only buzzin’. No air. No breath.
My head pullin’ itself up. Up. Feet paddin’ for solid ground, snappin’ twigs? Brushin’ old carpet. Stickiness. Upright. Filth slidin’ off of me.
Putrid. I puke. Odour of decay. Keep pukin’.
Chokin’. Spittin’. Goo all over my hands.
Shakin’ my head. Clear my ears.
Buzz buzz buzz.
Rotten stench. Pukin’, pukin’ up a foulness.
Eyes open. Open wide. Look. Look, see.
Waist-deep in a swamp of old furniture, rugs, snapped twigs.
Hold out my hands. Green. I see. Intestines?
Look down. Dog skull grinnin’ up at me.
Not rugs.
Cat fur, smeared in grease.
Claw and fang scattered like confetti among rotten, swollen animal hide. Hair of dog and cat, floatin’ like dust.
Not bugs. A swarm of flies tryin’ to get into my head. And maggots, everywhere.
This is a animal abbatoir.
Now I’m screamin’.
Mustaph was
so
wrong.
I scream like a maniac. Scream like a baby.
Zillion flies, dartin’ and buzzin’ roun’ my head. Up my nose and in my ears.
Hearin’ screamin’ and yellin’ from up above.
Stench like rotten meat and ancient cheese makin’ me heave again. Ain’t got nothin’ left to chuck up. Start tryin’ to climb the walls. Can’t get a grip. Try and wedge myself, legs on one side of the wall, arms on the other. Fall, almost sink back into the decayin’ pets. It look like some of them still alive. Squint down – no, is maggots squirmin’.
Oh, he was
so
wrong.
Scream some more and stop. Irritatin’, waste of time.
No noise from up above. My friends deserted me.
I am sinkin’ into a pile of dead dogs, gastric sludge, ruptured gut. Animal hair swirlin’ all roun’, gettin’ up my nose, makin’ me sneeze. Sneeze make me barf. Nothin’ come, jus’ my own fume, mix with odour of decay.
Buzz buzz.
A loud
CRACK
and daylight suddenly dazzlin’ me. A dog bounds forward into the pit, fangs snappin’. My dog. As the tide of dead pets slide out onto the ground outside the shaft, Sabre yelps, turns tail and legs it. I remove my goggles. Sis standin’ there holdin’ a seriously hefty crowbar, lookin’ ill with worry. Mustaph doin’ a dodge-the-dead-dog-avalanche dance.
Stench hits them and they both sick.
Sis drop the crowbar. I stagger out. Go to her. She give me a rib-crunchin’ hug. Over her shoulder I see Mustaph scratchin’ his head, tryin’ to work out how his masterplan went so wrong.
I’m wrigglin’ out of the boilersuit fast as if I got maggots on the inside of it as well as the out. I feel infested. Suit covered in pet juice. Stink of dead man’s clothes.
Thought you said the cord wouldn’t snap?
I yell at Mustaph.
It didn’t
he say.
The handle did
.
And what about the Megas?
I’m ragin’ at him.
You said the Megas were down here!
Just a educated guess…
I leap at him.
Educated? You ain’t even been in school all year. What make you think you can make a
educated
guess?
I didn’t get no sleep, did I? I was up all night. How can I think clever when I ain’t had no sleep?
I ain’t had no sleep either. Guess that why I listened to your genius idea
.
OK, let’s calm down a bit
say Sis.
People beginnin’ to stare
.
Like I care.
To be fair, it’s myself I’m really mad at. I mean, I
listened
to Mustaph. What kind of fool idea is that? Megas have instigated a serious feud and we takin’ our lead from brains like Mustaph?
So here’s me for all the neighbourhood to see, in nothin’ more than my boxers and my trainers, ankle-deep in Fido and Tiddles’s fur coats.
Sis and Mus can’t hardly believe their eyes. They seein’ a 57 variety of different breeds. Pit bulls to Jack Russells to moggies. We seein’ dog fang and cat fang bared and fierce where the skin of the lips been stretched back by rot. Ginger cat flanks squeezed in next to doggie black and tan, skin and bone. A mass grave of family pets.
LOST DOG: Jimbob
Has Anybody Seen Romeo?
Reward Offered For Return of Missing Tinky
We been full-time fools. Thank God I always keep Sabretooth close by my side. These bugs been keepin’ their diet nice and stable by chompin’ on family pets, wait until they bred themselves into a massive enough posse before showin’ to us humans. Once they sucked dry, bugs been draggin’ the evidence to the rubbish chute, droppin’ them in.
Least they throw their rubbish away when they done with it
say Mus.
Sabre is highly aggravated, pawin’ the ground and whinin’, his nose twitchin’ with a hundred horrible smells. I can see in his eyes he actually enraged. Never seen that in my dog before. His nose like he assessin’ information when we walk by a lamppost, find out who been passin’ by. I figure some of these were his friends. He’d of known some of them since he was a pup.
My dog raises his snout to the heavens, begins to howl.
We standin’ with our heads down, lettin’ Sabe have his moment.
They all dead?
says Sis.
All dead
.
Smashed-open hatch at the bottom of the chute looks like a cupboard been stuffed full to overflow, jus’ waitin’ for someone to open up. It been opened up all right.
Council goin’ to think Finger folk surpassed ourselves this time, dumpin’ all our dead pets down the rubbish chute. They gonna say we less than human, don’ deserve decent places to live
.
I’m oiking phlegm up my throat. I still got a maggot lodged in there, need to drink a gallon of water.
Clompin’ the side of my head with the palm of my hand, tryin’ to dislodge the last of the flies from my ears. Try and gouge them out with my little finger.
Come
say Sis,
let’s get you dressed. You look like you need a lie-down
.
Mustaph standin’ fascinated by the pile of dead pets, dippin’ his toe in, enjoyin’ his curiosity.
Hey, brains
Sis call him,
come on, we need to regroup
.
All of a sudden I feel woozy. Gotta go sit down on the kerb before I fall and bash my head. Sis send Mus for some water.
Quick as you can!
He speed off. I stagger to the edge of the kerb, and me and Sis sit.
What I don’ get
say Sis after a moment,
is why there be dozens of dead pets down the rubbish chute
.
Come on, Sis, you ain’t no fool
.
She shiver.
This is where the Megas dump their leftovers
.
But they bright enough to make sure they hidin’ out elsewhere. This ain’t no help to us
.
Suppose we show somebody? I mean, apart from people in The Finger. Take a dead dog to the council, or police?
They gonna slam the cuffs on us straight away
. ’
Member Cat Bin Lady?
Lady who chucked her cat in a wheelie bin? Was all over the Internet?
You fancy bein’ the new Cat Bin Lady?
Mus back from the corner shop, break the world hundred metre record.
I grab the bottle of water. Down it.
Clear my throat, wash down the maggot stuck in my windpipe.
Maybe if we dig aroun’, we can find some proper evidence?
he say.
I grimace at Mustaph, nod at the pile of bodies.
Be my guest
.
Look
say Sis,
I think one of them is still alive
.
Hate to tell you this, but that’s jus’ maggots wigglin’ underneath the skin
.
But Sis on her feet.
No. I can see its eyes movin’. Look
.
She is right. It is a little dog, Chiwowow, like WAGS keep in their handbags. This one ain’t lookin’ too happy.
It’s Romeo
say Sis.
What kind of a name is that for a midget dog?
Here, boy
. Sis shuffle slowly towards it, holdin’ out her finger and thumb like folk do when they approachin’ pets. Romeo looks terrified. But he ain’t goin’ anywhere. He curled up like he bein tryin’ to get a sleep, huddled up with his friends in the nice cosy chute.
He belong to Chantelle
say Sis.
Girl live on Mustaph’s floor
.
Romeo look up at Sis, but he ain’t movin’ for her. Dog terrified, glued to the spot. She bend and pick him up. Reckon the little beast goin’ to nip at her, but he don’ do nothin’.
Come on, nothin’ more we can do here. Least we can do is get this little fella safely back home
. She glance at me.
Get you dressed too. You indecent, boy
.
Muskrat rest a hand on my shoulder.
Sorry you had to fall in there head first, Marsh
. He pauses and adds
Was it a buzz?