Animal

by Paul Jones

  ‘Yer clumsy git,’ he got back in reply.

  Under normal circumstances, Phil would have simply brushed it off with a contemptuous shake of the head. Being a police officer, and regularly dealing with the general public, he was used to a bit of verbal every now and again. But maybe it was because of the alcohol, or the fact that at the moment, he was an aggrieved member of the public who didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that. He stopped to face the three lads in their early twenties, who were with two girls dressed up like hookers.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘You ‘erd.’

  ‘What’s the problem? It was an accident. I only brushed past and I said I was sorry, didn’t I, for Christ’s sakes.’ Phil turned away incensed by the yob’s arrogance. Ding, the ringing sound, and a brilliant white light. It took a second to realise he’d been hit. Phil spun around on unsteady legs, and saw the white shirt of one of the yobs, and smelt some exotic aftershave. His senses began to clear somewhat, and he began to protest, but when he did, his head rocked back with another blow. His back hit the tarmac, and his body started to get a right pummelling with kicks and punches. Phil instinctively tried to shield his head with his arms. His only remaining thoughts were that it felt like he was in a car tumbling over and over down a steep hill.

  All three lads, and even one of the girls had a go at booting and stamping on Phil’s twitching body like they were trying to put out a fire. The sheer force of these blows shifted Phil’s body about six inches at a time. They kicked him everywhere, and when one of them hoofed him in the back, it gave out a hollow thud like the sound of snare drum.

  One of the lads even took a step back as if he was lining up to take a free kick at a football. He aimed for Phil’s head, but the brunt of the kick was taken on the arms, although the impact still flipped Phil’s head up like a lid. Phil gave out a muffled ‘Humph’.

  ‘Oi!’ someone shouted.

  The gang stopped as they saw three bouncers from the nightclub racing across the roundabout towards them. In panic, they left their prey, and fled down a side road. One of the bouncers stopped to tend to Phil, while the other two followed in pursuit of the yobs. There was no chance of catching the lads, but the bouncers soon caught up with the girls, who they quickly restrained and led kicking and screaming back to the scene of their crime.

  Carol, Phil’s wife, and her friends were just about to cross the road to the Linx when they heard something of the commotion.

  ‘Where the hell is Phil?’ She frowned suspiciously, then she asked Danny and Rob to go back and check on him.

  Minutes later, Carol and her friends were alerted to the full horror of what had happened. And after the paramedics had arrived to treat Phil, who was only semi-conscious, it was the turn of the police, who then gathered all the relevant statements. Of course when the two girls gave their versions, they both accused Phil of starting the fight, and to protect the identities of their boyfriends, they claimed they had only met them for the first time that evening.

  Fortunately, one of the bouncers standing at this post on the doors of the nightclub had witnessed the white-shirted youth strike Phil first, and described how the rest of them proceeded to stick the boot in on Phil. This immediately refuted the girl’s false testimonies. After hearing this, Carol, Phil’s wife, tried to swing for one of the women for what she did to her husband and had to be restrained herself.

  After everything had calmed down, Carol accompanied her husband to the hospital in the ambulance, and by the time they had reached A and E Phil was completely compos mentis. Unfortunately, that didn’t prevent him from puking buckets all over the interior of the ambulance. Thankfully though, the injuries he sustained weren’t serious, and he was just treated for minor cuts and some facial swelling, but for the rest of the night he would be nursing a thunderous headache. Lucky for him the bouncers intervened, or it could have been much worse.

  *

  Next morning, Geoff was pottering about in his garage trying to hunt down a tin of old emulsion to touch up his living room door. In between stubbing his toe on the lawnmower and knocking over some boxes, the theme tune to Mission Impossible chirped in his trouser pocket. Geoff took out his mobile and saw Tom’s name. He made an odd face and answered it. ‘Hello, Tom. To what do I owe this pleasure?’

  Tom’s voice seemed somewhat highly pitched. ‘Have you heard from Phil yet?’

  ‘No, I haven’t. Why?’

  ‘He got a bit of a kicking last night.’

  Geoff’s stomach churned. ‘No! What happened?’

  ‘Apparently he was on his way to the Linx when these bastards started on him.’

  ‘Is he alright?’

  ‘Yeah, spoke to him this morning. He’s just got a bit of a shiner and a swollen jaw. It could have been much worse though.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘A few of my bouncer mates, witnessed it from the Broadway, and they rushed over to help cause he was getting a right pasting. Even the girls were getting stuck in.’

  Geoff’s head shook with anger and contempt. ‘What the hell did Phil do to deserve that?’

  ‘All he did was accidentally brush past one the lads and that was it. Bastards!’

  ‘What is the matter with these people?’ Geoff growled.

  ‘Well, the bouncers who went after them managed to catch the two girls, but the lads got away.’

  ‘So what about the police, were they called?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, police and ambulance, but when the two girls were questioned they tried to protect the lads, didn’t they.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, I bet, so the police can’t do anything about it, I suppose?’

  ‘Police? No, probably not, but I know someone who can.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘My mate, Charlie the bouncer, knows who these three lads are they pop into the Boulevards every Friday without fail. They’re well known for putting people in hospital. They even batter women as well. Really nasty pieces of work.’

  Geoff sensed what was coming next, and the cocktail of fear, anger and adrenalin began to simmer in his stomach.

  ‘It’s got to be done, Geoff, an eye for an eye. Do unto others as they do unto you. The time has come to strike back and clean up. What do you think? Are you in?’

  At first Geoff was numbed by the fear of a fight. That sudden rush of pure undiluted adrenalin that courses through the body, powering it ready for battle, or revving it up to do just the opposite – run for your life. Most psychologists call it the fight-or-flight syndrome.

  ‘Me, you, and Charlie and Nigel. Next Friday. Wait outside the Boulevards in a car. Are you in?’

  Despite the fact that this breached the code of ethics held sacred to a martial artist, Geoff knew this was something he couldn’t refuse. No way could he let the side down, or more importantly Phil, his friend and student. If he was to refuse this task, how could he ever expect any of his students to have any faith or respect for a sensei who wouldn’t fight for the right?

  ‘Geoff, are you in?’ Tom repeated, and the reply simply rolled out of Geoff’s mouth as if he didn’t have any choice.

  ‘I’m in!’

  CHAPTER 4

  That afternoon, Geoff drove the couple of miles over to Phil’s home in the junction. Phil lived in Marl drive, a street that trickled down the side of the Vadre hillside and into the bowl of the junction.

  Phil’s wife Carol, still looking a bit mournful, ushered Geoff into the living room where Phil lay resting on the sofa chilling in front of the TV, Carol then left them alone. Seeing Geoff standing in the doorway, Phil straightened himself up on the couch.

  ‘No… no relax.’ Geoff tried to wave him back down, but Phil had already made the effort.

  Looking at him, Geoff was relieved to see that Phil didn’t quite look like the elephant man he had half expected to find. The side of Phil’s jaw beside his ear had bulbed out a bit, and Geoff immediately thought of the famous jutted out
jaw of the Godfather, played by Marlon Brando. Plus the side of his eye above his brow had doubled in size.

  ‘Rocky Balboa,’ Geoff quipped as he eased himself on to the edge of the easy chair. Phil gave him a pitifully crocked smile.

  ‘How are you feeling, mate?’ Geoff asked.

  ‘Oh, the face lift didn’t go quite as I’d expected.’ He snorted, and Geoff shared the joke before taking on a serious note.

  ‘Tom filled me in about what happened.’

  Phil nodded, as if he didn’t really want to be reminded.

  ‘It’s definitely a war zone out there now isn’t it?’ Geoff remarked. ‘They’re literally out of control now like animals.’

  Phil just sat there looking a bit sorry for himself, then Geoff paused before asking. ‘How many pints did you actually have?’

  Phil huffed wryly. ‘Well I’d had about six or seven pints so it was safe to say I was a little bit pissed.’

  ‘Well you couldn’t have done anything to protect yourself in that state.’

  But Phil didn’t appear convinced. ‘But could I have done? Had I been stone-cold sober, could I have handled the situation? Would it have been any different?’

  Knowing that Phil’s greatest weakness was his self-confidence, Geoff certainly didn’t want this unfortunate incident to drain him even more. ‘Of course you would have handled it a lot better! Don’t forget alcohol affects your speed, your reactions, your judgement, and your co- ordination. After consuming that many pints it would have been like trying to fight underwater. You’d have had no chance. None of us would, not even Tom.

  Phil just sat there sulkily.

  ‘Phil, I’ve seen you in the dojo when you’ve got your head screwed on properly. When you’ve got the juice and your confidence is firing on all cylinders. You’re a bloody handful! Even Tom’s admitted it, and he works on the door, and he has much more street experience than any of us. So don’t worry about it. You are quite capable of handling any average idiot out there no problem, believe me. The only thing holding you back is your own self belief.’

  ‘Yeah, but something like this doesn’t help, does it?’

  ‘No, it doesn’t! But neither does downing seven pints of lager help either.’

  Phil shook his head. ‘Shit, what would have happened if the bouncers hadn’t have come when they did? When would those bastards have stopped kicking me? These days you don’t just get a beating, they really don’t care now if they kill you or not. I’m a policeman, and I know what it’s like following up a case like that. A load of unnecessary paperwork, thousands of pounds of taxpayer’s money on a court case you have no guarantee of winning and for what? A paltry few months in a luxury prison at the most. Failing that a suspended sentence, or just some crappy community service.’ Phil looked reproachfully at Geoff. ‘It’s just not enough, something needs to done.’

  ‘Something is being done,’ Geoff replied.

  ‘I know. Tom told me what you all are planning to do.’

  ‘Well, you’re not going to arrest us, are you?’ Geoff joked.

  Phil gave another crooked smile before getting back to business. ‘Something’s got to done about these feral bastards, Geoff. Even I’ve had enough now. Officially I would say to you, no don’t do it, leave it to the police to handle. Unofficially, I would say knock their blasted heads off.’

  *

  On his way back to Llandudno, Geoff decided he would pay his old friend Will Thomas a visit. Knowing that Will had a lot more experience in street fighting than he did, he thought it might be a good idea to see if he had any advice to impart on the situation. Besides Geoff had already promised to drop in on his old training partner, so he viewed it as a way of killing two birds with one stone.

  Geoff stood at the front door to the tenement flats where he first spoke to Will over a week ago, and muttered under his breath. ‘What do I do… just walk in or ring one of these buttons and ask for assistance?’

  ‘Geoff?’ Someone called him, and he spun around to find Will standing at the bottom of the steps holding a carrier bag. Geoff looked a bit sheepish, as if he’d just been caught spying. ‘I was just wondering how to get in.’

  Will climbed up the steps towards him. ‘You see all the buttons on the side there, the one beside flat 1, that’s me. Just press that next time.’

  They shook hands again. ‘How are you, mate?’ Geoff asked.

  ‘Good. Good. Come in,’ Will told him, and ushered Geoff through to his flat. Inside Will told him to have a seat, while he unloaded his shopping. Geoff duly obliged, briefly looking over the place.

  ‘So how’s things, Geoff? Karate club going OK?’ he asked quickly, shoving items of shopping away.

  ‘Yeah, good. Good,’ Geoff replied a bit vaguely.

  ‘Tea, coffee,’ Will offered.

  Geoff tapped his car keys in his hand as if he was on the verge of shooting out the door.

  ‘Yeah, go for it!’

  ‘Come on, Geoff, spit it out lad.’ Will mimicked a cranky old school teacher from his past. ‘That’s the same agitated Geoff ready to defend his beloved art against the outspoken radicals who dare to question its age-old values and traditions. How many times did we lock antlers over all that?’

  ‘No. No, it’s not any of that. I need some advice.’

  ‘Not on women, I hope. I’m going through enough problems of my own thanks very much.’

  Geoff cleared his throat. ‘Retribution! We’re going to give some people a pasting.’

  Will’s coffee-stirring slowed. ‘Retribution? Geoff Harrison. Am I hearing right?’

  ‘Oh yes!’ Geoff replied dead serious.

  ‘What’s all that about then?’ Will handed Geoff his coffee, and sat on the table seat facing him.

  Geoff filled his lungs. ‘A mate of mine, a student at the club, Phil the copper got a bit of a kicking at the weekend. These three morons including their girlfriends started on him just because he accidentally brushed past one of them. Luckily the bouncers from the Boulevards intervened otherwise they’d have just kept beating him up.’

  Will listened while he supped on his coffee.

  ‘Police can’t do anything about it they don’t even know who these gits are. But we know where we can get hold of them, and we’re going to pay them a visit next Friday. So what do you think?’

  ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold,’ Will lectured. ‘They also say that those who plan revenge should dig two graves instead of one.’

  ‘So what does that mean?’

  ‘All I’m saying, me old mate is that once you start a plan of action like that you have to see the job through. There are no half measures in that game.’

  ‘What, like losing your bottle, or changing your mind, you mean?’

  Will placed his mug on the table top in front of him. ‘Kind of yeah! What I’m trying to say is that you have to be completely sure of yourself to start getting into this payback thing. It’s not like they portray it in the movies. Someone does you and you do them, and then the hero goes off and shags the girl. That’s not the end of it believe me. You’ve got to stay switched on all the time. All the time! I’m not trying to put you off or anything. The problem with these situations is that most people think, shit. They’ve battered my mate, so we’ll batter them, sorted.’ Will shook his head with caution. ‘Then their mates want to get into the equation. They want revenge and it goes on and on until in the end you have to defeat the whole bloody army. That’s what you’ve got to be prepared for. If you honestly, truly, believe in the justification of revenge and its consequences, and you can handle all that, then do it. But always sleep with one eye open. One the other hand if you don’t want to take any risks, and can’t handle the possibility of comebacks from your actions, then I would suggest you find out who the attackers are and let the police handle it.’

  Geoff mused for a moment, then shook his head defiantly. ‘Even if I wanted to back down now, it’s too late. I’v
e already given my word. Imagine what the others would think if I told them to let the police sort it out instead. They would think I’ve bottled it, and would probably have no faith in me ever again.’

  ‘Well, that’s the problem. A lot of people get themselves into these dilemmas all because of male bravado. Not that I’m saying this has happened in your case. I know from experience that you have plenty of bottle. But that’s how a lot of these situations actually happen. People don’t really possess the experience to realise what they’re getting into until it’s too late. Take for instance two people having an argument over which is the better football team. At this stage they have no intention of having a fight. One of them raises his voice to try and get the upper hand in the dispute, so the other one raises his voice. One starts to shout, and the other shouts back. Then he pushes, and the other pushes back, and the fighting begins. But I guarantee you that while they’re going at it, they’ll both be wondering why the hell they’re fighting over a stupid football team.’

  ‘So where does the justification come into it then?’ Geoff asked.

  ‘First of all remove the ego. Then calm your anger. And keep hold of your fear. Never let someone else push you into doing something against you will. They may be up for it, but you might not. Or they may not be up for it, and they just want you to do their dirty work for them. That’s the ego.

  Anger clouds your judgement. You do, and say things you may regret, and once it’s done it’s too late to take it back. Fear… Fear is the friend of champions. Fear keeps you alert. Fear gives you strength. Fear gives you the will to survive.’

  ‘Sounds like you have more experience than I thought.’