Authors: Steve Tasane
She scratches her arm. She softer now.
I tried so many times to tell you, Marshall. You must have figured it out. Why so many police came for him? Why I hid his letters…
There she goes with the
letters
again.
That man that he knifed…
That gangster—
…was his colleague. They were double-crossing
.
No!
I yell.
It was self-defence. That’s why he didn’t get a life sentence—
Marshall, you read it in the newspaper
.
You snatched it away from me! It was just a headline. It didn’t mean – I couldn’t under—
She fix me with a hard-rock stare.
You’re going to make me spell it out, aren’t you? Even now, you can’t admit it to yourself—
What? What?
Where do you think all the money came from? The dirty money?
What? What?
And the shame. The shame…
Tell me then! You’ve never told me. Never
.
OK then—
I leap up, stomp across the room. Out onto the balcony. I put my hands on the ledge and I pull myself up and I stand, stand tall, like Mus, like Sis, like the rulers of the world. I raise my arms and open my lungs and I scream to God.
I don’ want to know. I do not know. None of it is true.
I scream and I scream.
Nothin’ comes out. No sound, not a croak. I am a Empty.
Mum is right. I
do
know. I
did
guess. I been lyin’ all this time. Nothin’ I can do to make it any different.
Drugs, isn’t it? Always was.
DEALER JAILED.
I was too young.
FOR KILLING.
He is my dad. I am his son.
Time to splatter some Megas. Find where they hidin’, wipe them out. I stomp back into the livin’ room. I snatch up an empty vase – when was the last time we had flowers, I ask? Smash it against the tabletop. Shatterin’ glass, music to my ears. Mum jus’ stand there, don’ try and do nothin’. Dad’s letter in her hand, all crumpled. She don’ say a word. She see my eyes. I’m out the door, lookin’ left to right along the stairways for bugs, shakin’ like a bass speaker. Still got the vase upturned in my hand, jagged and thirstier than any bug ever be.
Sabre whinin’ and growlin’, chargin’ alongside me.
Come on! COME ON! COME ONNN!
Turn a corner and who do I see out on the corridor but His Majesty himself.
And two Megabugs.
One of the bugs is crawled out of claw-distance, up the wall. The other havin’ a face off with the hissin’, spittin’ puss. Bug tryin’ to find space past the cat’s defences, get a thrust in with his nozzle, injec’ the cat so he paralyzed. His Maj lashin’ out with his claws, tryin’ to tear the bug’s face in two.
Go, cat! Rip those suckers apart!
But the second bug sneak behind His Maj, and ram its nozzle into his flanks. Whole back end go immediately limp. His Maj twist his front end round, lash at the sneaky bug’s head. But cat back legs have gone, and he misses. First bug stab him in the neck, and he down.
Cat ain’t cool. He start shakin’, like he withdrawin’ from a full-on Whiskas addiction. His paws hang limp. His tail swish in agitation and his eyes livid. He ain’t used to not havin’ it all his own way.
Bugs got their two front legs gouged into the cat’s fur, schnozzles stabbed in deep like straws in a drinks carton.
I’m hearin’ a mos’ disgustin’ sound.
Slurp slurp
as them buggies quenchin’ a big thirst.
I can’t believe they managed to beat His Majesty.
Megabugs concentratin’ on their meal, don’t notice me. Cat blood fillin’ out the bug bodies, swellin’ like pumped-up balloons. Skin shiftin’ from translucent tan to deep, dark red.
I will kill them.
Cat lookin’ up at me. Eyes angry, hopeless. Paws all floopy on account of the bugs paralyzed him with their venom. Narked. Sucked out. Robbed. Tip of his tail swishin’ like crazy. Starin’ wide-eyed in indignity.
I will kill them.
Life fades out of the eyes. Spark gone. Somethin’ switched off inside his head. Ain’t His Majesty no more, just another Empty.
First Megabug braces its knee joints, pullin’ its snout out of the cat.
Squelch
. One drip of blood hangin’ off the end of the schnozzle. Bug gives a short snort, sucks it up.
Second bug follows suit. They fix their red-eyed gaze on me.
I will smash them.
Bugs start to turn, escape.
Creeps ain’t so fast as the suckers on Sis’s balcony. Carryin’ a fresh bellyful, can only waddle like two-ton fatboys exitin’ McDonalds.
Shattered base of the vase feelin’ good in my hand.
His Maj is lyin’ there all flat. Lookin’ like a fluffy scarf for a posh lady’s neck.
I cut one bug off from the other side of the dead cat. Bug is trapped, nowhere to go.
Stab its head. Smash it like a mega crème egg. Head yolk slip out over its devil eyes.
Other bug ain’t goin’ far. I lift up my foot, slam my trainer down on the bug’s back.
Clunk
. Bug bend its knees under the pressure, give me the evils, wagglin’ its antennas. Now I made it
really
angry. I flinch at the look that Megabug throw me. That bug exoskeleton immune even to the stomp of good quality Nike. How nasty is that?
Not as nasty as me. Not as angry as me.
I kick it.
I kick it in the eye, and I kick it in the belly. Kick its shell. Its head.
Exoskeleton tough enough, but when it shatter, it shatter like a popped lightbulb.
Second-hand cat juice spurt up my legs. Fragment of shell clitter-clatter across the floor. Blood spread in a puddle aroun’ me. Belly fumes fill my nostrils. Gassin’ me. Around its popped bodysack its legs wigglin’, shakin’ what left of its busted head, wantin’ to scuttle away, flee from death.
So?
I kick it some more. Kick it with my left foot, kick it with my right. I kick it, one two, one two. Keep on kickin’. Kickin’ so it no more than litter on the floor, stain on the wall. Kick at the wall. Kick everythin’.
Nex’ thing I know, I’m on the ground, a weight on my back, pushin’ my face into the floor. My weapon gone flyin’ out my hand, rolled where it can’t do me no good.
Hot breath in my ear.
Wiggle and thrash but no matter what, I can’t shake the weight. They can suck me and drain me now, I don’ care, but let me kill some more of them first. I roar. I can kill another, just one, with my hand, rip its head. My howlin’ echoin’ down the hallway like a ghost.
Easy, boy. Easy
.
Sis.
Easy. Easy
.
Can’t make myself stop strugglin’, even though I know it Sis on my back. She slip her hands under my armpits, up and roun’ the back of my neck, linkin’ her fingers into a Half-Nelson, all the time whisperin’ warm whispers into my head.
My head in a puddle, soakin’ my cheeks and my hair. Not blood though. I’m cryin’ now, ain’t I? Sobbin’ like a infant.
You heard, then?
Sis’s words gentle in my ears. She knows about my dad. Sis always know everythin’ before anyone else, same as Big Auntie.
Same as Compo.
Everybody know about my dad but me!
She strokin’ my hair and her grip relax into a hug.
She lie there with me in the stairway, holdin’ me firm.
Sis sit on me for half an hour, waitin’ until I get bored of bein’ enraged. Every five minute she loosen her grip and I’m
sure
I can throw her off, set myself free. Every time, I am mistaken.
You will thank me for this
say Sis.
Sure
I say.
One day I’ll return the favour, sit on you all afternoon when you got business to do
.
I feel her breath warm on my neck. Think of my mum.
Why does everybody lie?
I ask Sis.
I’m tellin’ the truth
she say, tightenin’ the grip on her Half-Nelson.
Why did my mum tell you about Dad, but not me?
She didn’t. She telled Big Auntie. Big Auntie telled me because she tell me everythin’. I ain’t no use otherwise
.
Why my mum tell Compo?
Silence. She thinkin’ about this one.
Maybe
she say,
she thought Compo could help
.
Oh, OK
. And I make my move, manage to get a grip of her head, heave my body up and to the right, break her grip, roll on top. Before she know it, I got my knees on her shoulders, pinnin’ her down.
She know she been out-manoeuvred. Don’ waste energy resistin’.
Compo ain’t no friend. How she trustin’ him before she trustin’ me?
Sis playin’ possum. Catch me off guard. Jerk her whole body upwards, try and buck me off. I smile. I am wise. Hold steady. She surrender again.
Well?
Marsh
she say, gaspin’ for her breath back,
trust is somethin’ you earn. Your ma trusts Compo because he is the biggest pain in the ass in The Finger. He earned his trust. He dreams of bein’ boss of Scotland Yard
.
He is a fat fool!
True. And Muskrat is a skinny fool. Bein’ a fool don’ mean you can’t be trustworthy. It jus’ mean you come up with dumb-ass ideas. You learn that today
.
I been learnin’ too much
.
Maybe. Answer me this. Do you think your mum trusted your dad?
Course she did!
She says no more. Lets that one sit with me a bit.
Mum
should
trust me. I take care of her. And Connor. I fight for her. I watch her. Mum knows she can trust me. She can.
I’m gettin’ pins and needles
say Sis.
I am
not
a fool. We need a plan.
How about we go in, make a cup of tea?
say Sis, breathless and bored.
I climb off her, offer my hand to help her up. She takes it.
She twists my arm up behind my back, so it shrieks with pain. Double-cross.
Say
Sis wins
she laughs in my ear.
Say
Sis wins
.
Sis wins! Sis wins!
Damn. Shoulda seen that comin’.
Let’s get that tea
she says, makin’ the
loser
sign at me with her finger and thumb.
In Sis’s room, back in her flat, she ain’t talkin’ no more about Dad – what more is there for her to say? Sis know that everybody got a expert opinion about my dad. Only he himself is expert on the subject. When we beat the bugs, I will find my dad. I will listen to genuine expert opinion, because I am not to be taken as a fool.
When we beat the bugs.
We sittin’ on the edge of Sis’s bed, drinkin’ tea, starin’ at her bedroom rug. She cuppin’ her mug in both hands, her eyes fix on me like she still got me in the firmness of her grip, ain’t lettin’ me go.
Sabre sittin’ close as he can, his thick neck leanin’ into my thigh. He stock-still also, like he thinkin’ about best plan of action, chewin’ it over like a bone.
Sis showin’ me all the footage she taken. The dead pets overflowin’ out the rubbish chute, the popped bloodsacks of the nymphs, and – caught on camera – me kickin’ the daylight outta the two Megas that killed the cat.
Not much left of them, after you stomped ’em. You certainly got a habit of screwin’ aroun’ with our evidence, don’t you, boy?
I take that as praise.
You show Big Auntie?
No. She still out on her missions. Ain’t takin’ no calls
.
Why she gone off now of all times? We need her
.
She know what she doin’. Meanwhile, I put these beauties on my phone, been sendin’ it to everybody I know in The Finger. A call for action. Posted it on Facebook too
.
So word is out? We got believers
.
Sis grimace.
If someone sent you images like this, what’d
you
think?
I’d think I got better things to worry about than lookin’ at some nonsense some fool put together on Photoshop. It look like one of Mustaph’s models
.
’Zackly. But Big Auntie gettin’ all these updates. She be figurin’ things
.
Unless Big Auntie come on board, we is deeply in the proverbials. We got zero credibility. I ain’t assisted matters by turnin’ stomp-crazy in my undergarms. Least I was dressed again by the time Sis filmed me batterin’ the Megas.
Anybody start takin’ this serious
I say,
I’ll eat my dog
.
Sabre whines, like he heard me. I pat his head.
Sis say
Only hope we got is that the Megas are puttin’ in more of an appearance. They gettin’ careless – or cocky – and sightin’s on the increase. Megas just a rumour, but rumour spreadin’ rapid
.
She give me a deep look, check I’m focusing and not losin’ it. Believe me, I am focused. I am focusin’ on the problem the way my dad would have focused. Back in the day. I got to be like I imagine he would be.
Got to imagine.
Marsh?
She click her fingers.
We got to get people workin’ in groups, we got to be armed, organized, but people only goin’ to act on Big Auntie’s word, and Big Auntie away missionin’
.
I’m only half listenin’. Dad’s letter didn’t say whether or not he was goin’ to come over to The Finger. Just said that he was out of prison, wanted to say hi.
Them that have
seen
the Megas, doin’ their best to put the word out, tell people keep their windows closed. Better still, vacate the premises. Best place for people now is far away from The Finger they can get
.
What if Dad choose to come get me, take me away from Mum and Con-Con and Sabre? Become
bad bwoi
with him and his crew?
You listenin’ to me?
Sis sayin’.
Sure
. My mouth is movin’. Say words Sis wantin’ to hear.
We goin’ to defend the block
.
She peerin’ at me close, scrutinization.
Mallow? You need a lie-down?