The True Tale of the Monster Billy Dean (13 page)

She warks agen crunch crunch tap tap crunch crunch.

“Dos it do the saym to you?” she says. “Just say yes Missus Malone.”

“Yes, Missus M —”

“Exelent.”

I put the finga & hand & foot in my poket & hold them ther.

She warks more qwik she speeks mor qwik I stumbl to kepe up with her.

“Youd think thatd be the end of it wudnt you?” she says.

I stare at her. She glairs.

“The end of w-what?” I say.

“The end of all of it of cors! Buildins smashd & pepl killd & fyrs burnin. Youd think that wud be qwiyt enuf of bluddy that. Wudnt you?”

“Y-y —”

“Well it wasnt! Cos I havent told you to the end & here it cums so kepe on bluddy lissenin OK?”

“OK.”

She siys. Her body slumps a bit. Then she tayks a depe breth.

“The 3rd daft fool,” she says. “He wayted, William. He didnt switch his switch & he kept on wanderin. He wanderd rite into Blinkbonny park. He wayted ther. He herd the boms behynd him goin off. Kaboom! Kaboom! Kaboom! He saw the smoak he saw the flayms he herd the screems he felt the blasts. Stil he wayted. Mebbe he was havin 2nd thorts. Dyou think he was havin 2nd thorts, William?”

“I dont no.”

“Of cors you dont. But he definitly wayted. He wayted long enuf for me to get ther. Cos soon as I was owt of that room I was runnin away from the new bonny babe & runnin for the park. I was sprintin screamin. He wayted long enuf for Missus Malone to run throu the Blinkbonny slorter rite to the gayts of Blinkbonny park. Im yellin yellin for my dorter. I see my dorter runnin in panic with other kids arownd the swings & slyds & seesaws. I see parints lyk me rushin across the park to them. I carl her naym. Daisy! & she carls myn. Mammy! And mebbe in the end its carls like that that stir the bomer. Mebbe its cries of love & frite & loss that prod him. Those things, & the bluddy stupid dreme of bluddy stupid Paradiys thats depe insyd him — the dreme thats driven mankynd deathwads sins the start of tym. So bang! he went at last. Bluddy massiv bang!! Kabluddybluddyboom! And hes gon & so ar the kids thats near him & so ar many of the runnin parents. And Im farlin at the gaytway to the garden & metal from the bomb is in my flesh & the blud of my dere dorter is splashd across my skin. Ha! Ha! Enuf!”

She hurrys on. I puff and pant.

“We got to get you fit!” she says.

“Y-yes Missus Malone.”

She stops. She stabs the erth hard with the stik.

“Im the 1 thats crippld! Im the 1 that shud be struggling to kepe up! Arnt I? Arnt I? Say yes, Missus Malone!”

“Yes, Missus Malone.”

“Yes, Missus Malone! I had a dorter & she was a childe like you wasnt she? Say yes Missus Malone.”

“Yes, Missus Malone.”

“And I was tending to you at yor burth wen I cud hav bene tending to her. Wasnt I? Say yes —”

“Yes, Missus Malone.”

“Yes! Enuf! Wark on!”

We wark on in sylens just the crunch crunch rattl crunch. Then she stops agen.

“Do you no yor letters? Yor ABC yor XYZ?”

“S-sum of them.”

“S-sum of them! Knowin yor leters wil be essenshal in yor deelins with the dead. What is this for instans?”

She wayvs her stik in the air. I havent got a clu what shes doin.

“You havent got a bluddy clu hav you” she says. “Il do it mor sloly. Wotch!”

She waves her stik agen mor slow.

“Wel?” she says.

I say nothin. I dont know the anser.

“You dont bluddy no do you?” she says. “Yor father mite hav been a bugga but he was also a very clever man! Wat happend to the branes you shud hav got?”

“I dont —”

“Enuf! Lets do it this way.”

She crowches down & scratches marks with her stik in the dust. I wotch but I also look for other fingas other hands.

“Wel?” she says.

I look at the marks for sumthin I no.

“A” I say.

“OK. Wer gettin somewer. And this?”

“X” I say.

“Wel dun. I wont ask enythin mor complicayted today as I dont wish to furtha disapoynt myself. Look — anotha styupid relic for you.”

I gasp for joy cos its a stony wite fether snappd off from a wing. I pik it up. She leens across & takes it from me & laffs & the laffs dont reely sownd like laffs but mor lyk snarls & wayls. She warks on. I see nothin els but spidas crawlin & weeds growin in the rubbl & so I follo.

“And what is this?” she says turnin bak to me.

She makes a grate big sircl in the air with the little bit of fether.

I stare.

“What is it?” she snaps agen.

“O” I say.

“Correct!” she says. “O. The shape of the world the shayp of a hed the shayp of a mowth wyd open howlin!”

She holds the fether in her parm & gayzes at it.

“O my dorter,” she wispers. “O!”

Then she flings the fether to the erth.

I pik it up.

“Oooooo!” she says. “Mayk the shayp & mayk the sownd William. Oooooooo!”

“Oooooo!” I go.

“Thats bluddy useless!” she says. “Yor not maykin it horribl & desprat enuf! Try agen! Put sum agony in it, boy! OOOOOOOO!”

Then she stops. She puts a finger to her lips.

“Hush” she wispers. “Lissen! And come qwik!”

She runs acros the rubbl to a rowind hows throu its shattad dorways up sum stares to a dilapidayted room smashd open to the owtside air with a grate stone shatterd windo fraym & throu that to a metal balcony that teetas over the rubbl & dust belo.

She drags me after her.

The balcony sways & juddas with our wate.

She holds my arm & poynts beyond Blinkbonnys edj past the towas of the sity and towards the distant sea.

“See them?” she says.

“See what Missus Malone?”

“Ther William. Peel yor eyes. Look close. Blak poynted shayps abov the horizon. See? Qwik befor ther gon.”

I narrow my eyes & look to the sky abuv the sea & yes I see them. A clusta of dark things with wings agenst the simpl blue sky.

“And lissen too,” she says.

And I lissen hard & yes I here the far off depe down beating drone of them. A sownd thats hard to fynd at first & very nerly silent but wons you here it it drones soft & depe within lyk the sownd of runnin blud or beatin hart or breathin breth.

“Ther they go” she says as they disapear. “Did you see how they cort the sunlite how they wer a darka shayd of the sea? Did you fynd them byutiful?”

I nod.

“Yes I think so Missus Malone.”

“They ar” she says. “Ther the byutiful blak enjins of destrucshon.”

She stamps her foot & the balcony shuddas. She waves her stik across the ruwins belo.

“They said theyd fix arl this, William. They said theyd mayk Blinkbonny & all the Blinkbonnys byutiful agen. Blinkbonny became a plase of fame for a wile. Weell show the world that war wont work they said. Weell simply bild it up agen. What fools they wer! What fools we wer! They started clearin the ruwins. They started fixin what had farlen. They started bildin the new towas.”

She poynts across the waystlands with her stik.

“Look thers 1 that was half bilt & thers another. See how theyv turnd to ruwins themselvs. And see the machinry they brout in. The crayns that fel down long ago. The bulldozas that lie rustin on the dirt. They said they had to leev the playses like Blinkbonny as they are. The peple of Blinkbonny shud just get owt & fynd new playses to liv in. Get owt of the ruwind playses, they said. Yor expectin too much! Start new lives! Fend for yorselvs! Dont you no wer livin throu days of massiv thret & overwelmin crisis! Dont you no thers a bluddy war on? We cannot aford to fix & bild no mor. And they started creatin mor & mor enjins of destrucshon & carin for them & sendin them owt to do ther work. They started creatin mor Blinkbonnys just like this 1 arl arownd the world. And the noys of the world has turned to boom & bang & blast & bluddy kapow & gosts wark evrywer acros the shattad erth.”

Her voys pores into my ear. I gayz across the land below. Im stunnd by the distanses by the syzes of things by the spays by the lite by the farling of the cool air acros my fays. The balcony sways.

“Look ther” says Missus Malone.

She directs my eyes towards the sity & shows the smoke that drifts upwards from a sertan part of it.

“A littl boom a littl bang,” she says. “Somthing smashd & somthing burning. Sumwon woonded somwon killd. Who did it William?”

“I dont no Missus Malone.”

“And nor do I. And it dusnt bluddy matter who did. We shud just fly the enjins of destrucshon towards ourselvs & bom ourselvs. It wud be qwiker & easier. Wed get whats coming over & dun with all the faster. Wudnt we? Wudnt we? Say yes, Missus Malone.”

“Yes Missus Malone.”

“Do you see them?”

“See who?”

“The gosts William. Do you see them warkin evrywer acros the shattad erth.”

“I dont . . .”

“You do. You will. I hav great hopes for you William. It is my beleef that you hav speshal gifts. Thees wil alow you to wark among the dead. Now come along & let us get on.”

We go bak throu the windo & down the stairs.

“A doctor livd here wons,” she says. “A doctors a man who heals. He was blasted apart on the 5th of May. Come along. Owt we go. What a world.”

Tap tap. Clik clik.

And she tayks me home to Mam who comes runnin from the dore with her arms spred owt & angwish in her eyes.

Missus Malone lets me hurry to her arms.

“What did you think?” says Missus Malone. “That you wud never see yor boy agen?”

“O no Missus Malone,” says Mam. “O Im sorry Missus Malone.”

“Good. He is always safe with me. And the bereevd ar in need of him. It is almost time to take him to the borderlands of death.”

Its Jesus that I hav discoverd in the dust. When the redblak sky is burnin throu the kitchen windo when wer sittin at the taybl drinkin hot choclat & eatin bred & jam when Im leenin on her safe & sownd & when wer dun with tellin of how lonely & scared weve bene I show her the finga the hand the foot & fether.

She holds them up to the danglin lite.

“It carnt be,” she wispers all intens.

“Carnt be what Mam?”

“In what plays was this fownd, Billy?”

“In the stoans & dust. Missus Malone told me it was in the plays Saynt Patriks used to be.”

“She telt you that?”

“Aye Mam.”

“What els did she tell?”

“She telt me that it was wer you started. She said you wer left ther wen you wer a baby.”

“Did she now,” she wispers. “Thats true enuf I gess.”

She holds the pink foot on her parm.

“It is Jesus, Billy. A fragmint of the littl infant Jesus & this is a fragmint of his aynjel. They cum from long bak in the past. Ther was nothing els of them?”

“Dont no, Mam.”

“I used to see him evry Sunday,” she says. “When I wos a littl girl. There he wos abuv me on a shelf on the church wall smiling down. I thort he wos just lovely & that he wos lookin rite insyd me & that he wud foreva kepe me safe.”

She tuches them these preshus things.

“The aynjel was abuv him” she says “hangin from the seelin. Can you imajin such things, Billy?”

Of cors I cant but I say I can.

“Mebbe well fynd mor,” she says. “Mebbe well fynd evrythin of Jesus & mayk him hole agen. And evrythin of the aynjel and make him hole as wel.”

“Aye Mam. Mebbe. Aye.”

She puts the fragmints on the taybl & tuches them & smyls at them & crys a bit & then we hav mor bred & jam.

“Maybe Jesus has been waytin for a childe like you. And now that Billy Dean is here he shows himself in the dust agen.”

She takes me to my bed soon after. She kisses my cheke & pulls the blankets to my throte.

“Well fynd mor,” she says. “Well reassembl it arl agen. What els did she tel?”

“She telt me of the day of my birth of the boms & the destrucshon & the deaths & of her dorter.”

“Did she Billy?”

“Aye.”

Wer silent for a wile.

“Why was I arl coverd in blud Mam?”

The qweschon mayks her gasp.

“O Billy when?”

“When I was born.”

She laffs. She kisses me agen.

“Thats how arl of us begin. Every singl won of us. And the blud that was on you that day was mine.”

She holds me tite then lets me go & says good nite.