The Glass Kingdom

by Chris Flynn

  S’all quiet out there, seems, ’cept for the rain. Don’t sound like it’s easin’ off much. Maybe I should crack this biatch open an’ have a look-see. Real slow now, never know who’s watchin’.

  Jesus, there sure is a lot of water on the ground. Basically sittin’ in the middle of a river of mud here. Best be careful with my fucked-up foot. Don’t want to be coppin’ no infections.

  A’ight, c’mon then, Mikey, get yo’ ass out there, son, let’s bounce. Clouds be dark overhead. All’s left is just me an’ some old run-down machines, an’ that one carousel horse whose cover got blown off, givin’ me the evil eye.

  This crutch sure is comin’ in handy for testin’ how deep the mud be. Shit, can’t hardly see nothin’ through this curtain of water pourin’ off my cap. Ain’t exactly planned this too good, homes. Which way am I gonna go? Maybes if I head out past the showgrounds an’ keep walkin’ I’ll get picked up by some good Samaritan goin’ in the opposite fucken direction to Ipswich an’ everyone else on this freak show. Bound to be somebody who’ll take pity on a poor ol’ boy with a crutch, right?

  Hold up. Stop for a second there, bra. Coulda sworn someone was callin’ my name. Must be the meds, ’cos ain’t nobody here ’cept me an’…there it is again. No mistakin’ it that time. Naw, it can’t be. He wouldn’t come back in this, not for me. He don’t care that much, right?

  Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. It’s Corporal Benjamin Wallace an’ he sounds pissed. Hide, quick, hide somewhere numb nuts, over there, over by the Mad Mouse. That’s it, squeeze in under there now, never mind the mud. Where is he? Can’t rightly tell with the noise of this rain.

  Miii-key. I know you’re here somewhere.

  I ain’t, I ain’t here. You gots to convince him you ain’t here. He told you what would happen if you tried to run again. Can’t let him catch you.

  Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. Come out where I can see you.

  You gots to be shittin’ me. ’Bout six million ways to die round here. I ain’t comin’ out, Ben. You’ll just have to find me.

  Come on, Mikey, it’s just you and me. You know I’ll find you eventually.

  An’ I know what’ll happen if you do, motherfucker. I is wrecked. Fact it’s just you out there in the rain, if that’s even true, means you got one thing in mind. No witnesses. Nobody to see what really happened to Mikey Dempster. Damn, probs nobody ever find me neither, less’n they fishes my body from the river a week from now. Forget that promotion you done promised me. You is surely takin’ this opportunity to remove this particular thorn from yo’ ass, probs on Steph’s instructions. An’ even if that ain’t the truth, I know you gots to be thinkin’ ’bout it an’ I am not takin’ the risk. Pass on by, solja boy. Just leave me be an’ I won’t bother you no more, scout’s honour.

  Fucken sick of this, Mikey. If you come out now, I’ll think about letting you off.

  The fuck you will. I’s gonna take one to the dome here, I just know it. Oh, he sounds close an’ I ain’t real well hid under here. He’s gonna see me fo’ sho’. Should I make a run for it? Fuuuck. Fuck it, I’m goin’, head for the hills, son, go round the Mad Mouse an’ double back to the carousel, maybe he already looked there an’ I can fool him, s’got to be my only shot. S’not like I’s gonna outrun the motherfucker so c’mon, work that crutch, that’s it boy, pump it, use the rain as cover, you can make it, shit, lost my shoe in the mud, fucken leave it, leave it, don’t stop movin’ till you gets there. Only another couple metres an’ that’s it, you made it, you’re there.

  Stop. Take a breather. Wipe that mud off yo’ bandages. That Nike slip-on’s still out there but he ain’t gonna see it, is he? Never mind that now, can’t be worryin’ ’bout it so just climb on up onto the carousel best you can, dawg, an’ see if you can get under one of them covers, yeah, that’s good, that’s great, he ain’t gonna spy you under there, no way.

  Mikey.

  Don’t turn round. Don’t turn round. He won’t do nothin’ if you don’t turn round. A’ight, maybe just a look, just a glance so’s I know fo’ sho’ it’s him an’ see if he’s got any crew with him. I hope so, oh please don’t let him be alone.

  I see you.

  Ben. Wait, brother, I can explain. I got separated from the others an’ I got caught short an’ when I come out the toilet you was all gone. I’ve just been wanderin’ round here wonderin’ what to do. Shit, I’s glad to see you, really. Sorry I didn’t come out before, I was just scared, you know? It’s good you come back for me, I’d probs have died of hypothermia out here, dawg, knowhumsayin’?

  I won’t lie to you, Mikey. This is not good. I’ve had enough. I can find someone else—I don’t need the hassle anymore.

  It’s like that, huh? Just toss me aside like I is nothin’? You bastard. A’ight, let me gather my thoughts here for a second, oh and by the way, go fuck yourself, homes. There, I said it. Fuck. You. You ain’t never owned me, a’ight? My name is Michael Dempster and I have always been free, an’ that’s the triple truth, Ruth. I had twenty-one years of this shit. I’m cashin’ in my chips, motherfucker.

  That’s why I’m here.

  What you waitin’ for then, dawg? Double tap, right here, ’tween the eyes. Don’t leave me hangin’. What? What you lookin’ for now?

  You hear that?

  What? What the fuck, you…damn, what is that?

  I don’t know. Sounds like…the ocean, kinda?

  Oh. Oh shit. It ain’t the ocean, dawg, but it might as well be. Wall of water ’bout six feet high comin’ down the alley, swallowin’ up everythin’ in its path. A tsunami, headin’ straight for us, an’ we ain’t got nowhere to run. Can’t run anyways. Hold on, hold on to that horse on a pole, wrap yo’self round there best you can an’ brace for impact, homeboy, ’cos here it comes.

  High ground. Gots me the one up on you at last, Corporal Wallace. Yeah, hang on there, motherfucker. You gots the guns for it, anyways. Link those big fucken Conan the Barbarian arms of yours round the steps. You is on the merry-go-round now, huh? Ain’t so fucken funny anymore, is it, dawg? Keep on clutchin’, water hittin’ you in the face an’ shit, that nice an’ cool on your neck, bra? Oughta pop you in the mouth with my one good foot here, knock you into that dirty stream.

  That be mad flow, dawg, all sorts of shit caught up in that wave, branches an’ boxes an’ cuddly toys an’ some nasty lookin’ sharps, better protect ya freak neck, brother. Seems like half the Kingdom gettin’ washed away in the storm here, an’ where the fuck’d all this water come from, s’like we is caught in a river or somethin’.

  Pitiful. You is lookin’ real pitiful over there, reachin’ out all desperate like, hopin’ I is gonna pull you aboard my ark. Ready to off me just a minute ago, an’ now you wants my help. Lordy be. Don’t you just love life’s little ironies?

  But hold up. Damn, them waters is creepin’ higher. This be one epic flood, dawg. Biblical. An’ maybe there’s a door openin’ for you here, Mikey. Maybe there’s a way out. Is that a flashing EXIT sign I see, hangin’ over your head, Ben-jamin? If I pull you on board the good ship Delta, we is quits, you feel me? Whatever done happened ’tween us is forgotten. My slate be wiped clean, homes, and I walks right the fuck out of here today. Or swims. Whatevs. You down with that? Cross your heart an’ hope to die?

  A’ight. S’all good, yo. Grab my hand an’ climb on up here, we’ll ride these horsies through this wave like jet skis. Giddy-up.

  Make haste, motherfucker. That be one big piece of metal just floated past. Think that was part of the fucken Ferris wheel right there. Kingdom be comin’ down round our ears.

  Come on, hoist yo’self up. I can’t, I can’t pull any harder, man. Barely grippin’ on here myself. Ain’t my fault I’s not pumped like you. Had to cancel my gym membership when you done took a hammer to my ankle, dawg, ’member that?

  Easy, hey, go easy, you’s gonna pull me in, ’stead of the other way round. I’m tryin’, you think I’m not tryin’? You ’bout twic
e my weight, solja boy. Come on, use them legs an’ step up, less’n you wants to sleep with the fishes tonight.

  Ben! Ben, hurry up, man, there’s a car comin’, a fucken car an’ it’s draggin’ all sorts of big shit with it. You got to get out of there, man.

  No. No, no, come on! Move! That’s it, you’s nearly there. One final heaaaave an’…

  Oh shit.

  He let go. He’s gone.

  It hit him. That car just rolled right up like a great white an’ plucked him off the steps of the carousel. The look on his face. Oh man, I was lookin’ right in his eyes as it crushed his legs an’ his fingers opened an’ he let go an’ then he was gone. Sucked under the water, under all that metal an’ there he is, way over there already, bobbin’ back up, face down, nothin’ but a ragdoll, all mashed up an’ lifeless. Oh Christ, he’s wrecked, he’s done. It all happened so fast an’ I couldn’t do nothin’, I swear.

  Hold up, I’s in trouble myself over here. I don’t like the sound of that creakin’ noise. This ride ain’t supposed to be operational. Come on, horsey, don’t you be turnin’ round that way, that ain’t good for me. Gonna get my hand stuck in there, better watch. Oh fuck, I’ve gotta, oh, I’m goin’ in.

  Take a breath, son. It’s gonna be all right. Just dive into that flow an’ start kickin’. It’s the only way out.

  Down an’ down I spiral, way deeper than I even thought was possible. I keep my eyes open so’s I can see what’s happenin’. It ain’t completely dark down here. The headlights of cars light the way as they tumbles on past me. I ain’t scared for some reason. I’s kinda calm, like I’s floatin’ inside the belly of some big fish that done swallowed up half the world. I look down below an’ it ain’t the dirt of sideshow alley like I ’spect but a big crack in the ground. Whole houses is fallin’ into this pit, driftin’ real slow down to the depths. Sun loungers an’ bikes an’ toasters an’ kettles an’ Xboxes with their leads trailin’ behind move in a swirlin’ orbit of the homes, fish feedin’ on divin’ whales.

  There’s people down here too. Don’t notice them at first but if I squints through the gloom I can see one or two of ’em hangin’ there. Shadowy divers clingin’ to their porches, or sittin’ behind the wheels of their Toyota Camrys, starin’ out the windshield like they’s waitin’ for someone to explain what in hell’s happenin’.

  I’m floatin’ through an underwater Queensland. Broken fences an’ cats hissin’ bubbles, rider-less motorcycles an’ rusted ol’ shipping containers, the Ferris wheel an’ carousel, confused-lookin’ seagulls an’ kiddlywinks with wonder writ on their faces, all swirlin’ down into the vortex, vanishin’ into the gaping mouth of the earth. I can see Ben way over there, his T-shirt torn an’ stained with blood, burns on his neck an’ chest exposed, the side of his skull split open where that car musta clocked him in the dome. His waist is all crushed and broken, his legs turned at a weird angle like he’s tryin’ out some mad dance moves. Ring of crimson round him like a hula hoop. Must be the way the current’s draggin’ him but it sure looks like he’s raisin’ one hand to his bleedin’ temple to salute.

  I stop fallin’ then an’ just hover in place as best I can like some human starfish while the whole world rushes on by. I watch Ben as he gets sucked into the whirlpool, slowly turnin’, his arms outstretched. Another couple seconds an’ he’s gone, vanished into the darkness. That’s when I see the light up above an’ strike out for it, swimmin’ for all I’s worth till I break the surface an’ claw my way to land.

  Don’t know this place. Floodwater musta swept me right on out the showgrounds an’ into another part of Toowoomba. Manage to crawl on out the water onto a muddy incline by grabbin’ the roots of some big tree. Need to rest. I’s beat. Ain’t rainin’ here an’ my foot’s throbbin’ like a mofo. Glad I done cut that cast off. Might’ve been a different story otherwise. Might’ve ended up like Ben, down there somewhere with the crabs eatin’ his eyes.

  No time to think ’bout that. Gotta keep movin’ ’fore I gets caught by the flood again.

  Grab that branch there, Mikey. Yeah, that’ll do nicely as a crutch. Get yo’self into those trees. Water. So much water. S’like the ocean done rose up to claim the land. Holy shit, all sorts of critters runnin’ for cover in here an’ they don’t seem to be too concerned ’bout a human in their midst. Roos an’ birds an’ even snakes boltin’ from the flood. Everything headed for high ground, though it didn’t seem to matter none up here in Toowoomba.

  Where am I, dawg? Trees all around, drippin’ wet, the sun just peekin’ through the clouds up there in the canopy, beams of light coursin’ ’tween the branches that’re crawlin’ with bugs clamberin’ over each other to get off the forest floor. Everythin’ desperate to cling onto whatever life they gots an’ I is too, staggerin’ an’ stumblin’ through this strange place, lookin’ for a way out an’ sure of only one thing. Somehow, I’m alive. Praise be to Kanye.

  Break in the trees up ahead. Looks like a road. No water. Couple of wallabies bounce out ahead, streak across the bitumen. Hear a horn in the distance. Somebody comin’. Keep goin’, son. Work that crutch. You’re almost there. This time, baby, this time.

  Yo, hey, some help over here. Yeah, that’s it, hit the brakes, dawg, you gots to watch out for those critters anyhow. Big roo’ll come crashin’ through your windscreen an’ kick you upside the head. Homeboy’s got hissel a bitchin’ ute though, bullbar an’ everythin’. Guess these Queenslanders is used to pile-drivin’ their way through the wildlife.

  Is he reversin’? Nah, s’all good, dawg, I’ll come to you. Just hold up, it ain’t easy with this old branch. Damn, I is a mess. Not exactly presentable for strangers, but these is hard times an’ ain’t nobody gonna refuse me a ride, even if I is bleedin’ an’ hobblin’.

  Brother, am I glad to see you. Roll down that window an’ let’s get a look-see at yo’ clock. Mekong Delta from upriver be back up on the stage, my flow restored now I’s out of that cage, help a homeboy out at the very least, your ride is dope maybe yeti some might even say beast, yo all I’s hearin’ out here is the sounds of silence, y’all better open up or there’s gonna be some violence, I be Mekong Delta an’ I shouldn’t haveta shout, this song is over, that’s the end, c’est fini and I’m out, out, out.

  There’s a certain time of the morning that not many people ever see. If you’ve hit the sack at a reasonable hour, like any normal person, chances are you’ll be sleeping deeply, way down in some dream world where no one can touch you. If your house was on fire, you probably wouldn’t know until it was too late. The only people who’re awake at that time are usually up to no good.

  At the height of summer in Uruzgan, you’re talking four-thirty, four-forty in the morning. Technically, it’s sunrise or dawn, but those words just didn’t seem right in that context. They didn’t belong there. ‘Sunrise’ made it sound like there might be a good day ahead, bringing with it the prospect of laughter and friendship, of a day at the beach with the family, or of some fucken chirpy chat-show host with a face plastered in make-up to cover the bags under their eyes giving you the minor-celebrity lowdown. In the service, you called it o dark hundred.

  If you were awake then, you were either going to kill someone or get killed. No two ways about it. You would ghost out of the compound in Humvees or choppers, sometimes on foot, locked into the eerie green world of your night-vision goggles, PlayStation for real. It would be cold but you knew, you could almost sense the heat ready to slosh like a coat of fresh paint over the face of the mountains. You had to go in fast and hit whoever you were told to hit while they were stretching and yawning and wiping the sleep from their eyes.

  The crackle of Ludowyk’s voice in your ear. Second squad, move up. Fan right. Watch your six. Then someone else, a throaty whisper, maybe yours. Five hostiles, Ludo. Permission to engage.

  Schwack ’em.

  Ftt-ftt-ftt.

  Bullets passing through the silenced barrel of an M4. Green laser streaks lighting up the nig
ht vision. The sound of someone crumpling in a heap, probably thinking they were still dreaming. A flurry of activity as whoever those strangers were, enemy or friend, combatant or civvy, guilty or innocent, realised that devils walked among them. The absolute focus of adrenaline surging through your veins, and maybe, if you and Ludo had time before leaving the operating post, something else in the bloodstream too. A microscopic crystal army, charging across the synapses, lending you an edge those others out there in the darkness did not have. You never feared death with glass in your heart. You were death. You devoured souls, to make up for the ones you’d left behind, somewhere along the way.

  A grenade would go off, or a lightning bolt from the underside of a hovering Valkyrie, and the night scope would burn a wall of digital green into your eyeballs. You would flip the goggles down and let them dangle around your neck, blink to adjust to the shadows, and finish the job. Sometimes you would take pictures, just in case you’d stumbled upon one of the Big Bad Wolves.

  And then you’d be gone, climbing into a truck or a Black-hawk, Ludo performing a head count, even if someone had lost their head. Wiping blood spatters from your gear, not knowing whose it was. You’d roll or fly on out of there, still buzzing, index finger aching to keep pulling. You’d know what time it was from the glow on the horizon. Sunrise. Dawn. O dark hundred. Soon, you’d be having breakfast. Eggs, maybe. Cereal. Coco Pops, for that glorious sugar hit.

  You haven’t felt that way in years, but you feel it now. It’s dark, but there’s a glow, a hum, a stillness. It’s peaceful down here. The pain in your legs and in your head and on your neck is nothing but a distant throb, a reminder of something you’ve already forgotten. You just want to drift, to float. Close your eyes, Corporal. The mission’s over. You’re Oscar Mike.

  Hold on. Just a second. Not yet.

  You are standing at the back of the tent, watching your mum onstage. You’re not supposed to be there. If Dad finds out, he’ll punch you in the ear like he did last time. You don’t see what the big deal is. Yeah, she’s in the buff, but she’s your mum. It’s the tattoos and the sword you want to see anyway, not her titties. That’s what everyone else, the leering goons who line up dozens deep, pay for.