by Jim Eldridge
‘Cos she’s here with her man and she don’t want you around,’ muttered the hooded young man, and then he turned to face her.
As she saw his face beneath his hood, Shannon felt as if she’d been struck hard in the guts. It was Dillon. Her Dillon!
As she watched, Dillon reached out, grabbed Jo and pulled her towards him, and kissed her. And Jo kissed him back!
Shannon felt dizzy. Jo knows how I feel about him, she thought. She knows, and she does this!
She felt sick. Sick and betrayed and useless!
She felt a surge of anger beneath her tears. OK, she wasn’t Jo’s friend, she wasn’t Dillon’s girl. So why was she here? She wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of breaking down in tears in front of them all — the other boys, the other workers. No, she was a customer.
She pulled some change from her pocket and threw it at Jo. The coins hit the counter and bounced in all directions, some towards Jo, some towards Dillon, some just flying and hitting the wall.
‘Thanks for nothing!’ stormed Shannon. ‘I fucking hate you!’
She snatched a tube of Pringles from the display with such force that the whole display collapsed, sending Pringles boxes scattering.
Immediately the young men and Dillon rushed forward towards the display, as if trying to stop it falling, but they were too late. Shannon ran out of the store as fast as she could, tears blinding her eyes. She was aware of someone running after her, but she was already on her bike and cycling away, not even looking properly where she was going. She wondered who had run after her. Jo? Dillon? The security guard, going to arrest her for messing up the display? Well, fine fucking chance any of them had of catching her! Shannon was gone!
9
The canal. Her base. Her sanctuary. Shannon sat on the bench and looked at the dark waters rippling past her. She looked up at the opposite wall. It had one of her murals on it, with her tag. In the dark it was difficult to make it out, but she knew what it said, it was etched deeply on her heart. ‘I’m sorry.’
Yes, she was sorry all right. She’d let herself be taken in. By Dillon. By Jo. By her mum. By all of them.
She pulled the box of Pringles from her pocket and was just about to flip the lid when there was a popping sound, not far away, and something slammed into her chest. She looked down.
Even in the dim glow of the distant lamp she could see that it was red and glistened wet. She’d been shot! But there was no pain.
There was another pop! and yellow splashed on her chest. Paint! Someone was firing paintballs at her!
She leaped to her feet as another paintball hit her on the arm, knocking the box of Pringles out of her grasp.
She turned. A bunch of kids were coming towards her, paintball rifles levelled at her. Like a pack of wild dogs on a hunt.
Shannon backed away from them.
‘Please don’t,’ she appealed. ‘You wouldn’t believe the shit couple of days I’ve had.’
The kid in the front grinned, his smile making him appear even more wolf-like.
‘It’s about to get worse, babe,’ he announced.
He fired again, and this time, launched from close range, the paintball hurt when it hit her. Another rifle was already pointing at her. She dodged as it fired and the paintball missed her.
Then she was running, her bag clutched tightly in one hand, dodging from side to side as she ran as fast as she could along the canal path, heading for the steps back to where she’d left her bike. A shriek behind her, rage mixed with pleasure at the hunt, went up, and then she heard their footsteps on the canal path as they chased after her, yelling with delight.
‘Get her! Shoot her! Kill her!’
Shannon felt her lungs were ready to burst as she threw herself up the steps to the street and her waiting bike, and then she skidded to a halt with a feeling of horror. Two boys were already by her bike, one of them sitting on it holding the handlebars, the other pissing on the front tyre.
Frantically Shannon looked up and down the street, looking for a safe way out, an alley that went somewhere — she didn’t want to run into a dead end. But before she could move they were on her, one kid jumping on her back, and snatching at her bag. She swung out, using her elbows as weapons, but the kids were too wise, they crowded in so she couldn’t get a proper swing. She felt her bag being pulled open and saw a hand thrust in and her mobile phone snatched out. Frantically she grabbed for it, but more kids jumped on her, their weight pulling at her, dragging her down to the ground.
If they get me to the ground they’ll kill me, realised Shannon. They’ll kick me to death. Boots thudding into my head. Ribs breaking and puncturing my lungs. I’ve got to stay on my feet!
But the sheer weight of them was too much as they hung on to her like a pack of hunting dogs bringing their prey down for the kill. She gave a last jerk, trying to free herself from them, but it unbalanced her and she stumbled, and then she was falling, crashing to the hard ground, the weight of the kids crushing her. They were going to suffocate her, then kick her to death!
10
She felt a sharp pain in her side as one of the kids kicked her. She tried to roll, to get away, but the weight of the kids was too much. They were lying on her legs, holding her down, stopping her from kicking out.
I don’t want to die this way! she thought.
Suddenly there was a yell of pain from above her, then another, and she was aware the weight of the kids on her was easing. She felt one of them being dragged off her, and saw a fist crash down on the kid’s head.
Shannon rolled and squirmed out from under the weight of the kids, and saw that someone was wading in, fists and feet flying and kicking, and the kids were howling with pain. It was a well-dressed woman with a terrifying angry look on her face.
Whack! The woman lashed out and another of the kids stumbled back with a yell of pain, hands shielding his face. Her foot lashed out and caught another in the groin, and he tumbled to the ground with a shriek.
Shannon saw one of the boys pull out a wicked-looking knife and whirl round on the woman, but he didn’t get a chance to use it. Crunch! She smashed him full in the face and he fell back, the knife clattering to the ground.
The woman swooped down and scooped it up and held it towards the other kids, while with her other hand she grabbed Shannon by the collar of her coat and hauled her to her feet.
‘Make for the car!’ she snapped.
Shannon looked around, bewildered, and saw a snazzy car just a few metres away, the driver’s door hanging open. She found she still had a hold of her bag, which amazed her.
The woman backed away from the kids, dragging Shannon along with her, the knife in her hand still held towards the kids.
The kids stood, baffled and unsure, looking at their friends groaning and crying on the ground.
‘I’ll kill the first one who tries anything,’ warned the woman menacingly.
She will too, thought Shannon. There was no mistaking the intensity in the woman’s manner, the determination. Who was she? What was she? Some kind of vigilante?
The kids stayed where they were as Shannon and the woman reached the car. They were like animals deprived of their prey, but reluctant to move nearer and face the wrath of the woman.
‘Get in!’ ordered the woman.
Shannon hurried round to the passenger door, opened it and jumped in. The woman slid behind the steering wheel, started the ignition and raced away. Only then did the kids move, running towards the car, throwing things at it, but it was a futile gesture, and everyone knew it. The last thing the kids wanted was for the woman to stop and come back at them.
Shannon’s last sight of the kids was them shouting at the car and waving their fists in anger; then the car had turned into the main road and the gang of kids vanished from her sight.
Shannon slumped back into the seat.
‘Who are you?’ she asked the woman, her mind still a whirl at what had just happened. Was still happening.
‘T
he name’s Kelly Field,’ said the woman.
‘And do you do this sort of thing a lot? Save people?’
Kelly smiled.
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I’m like a superhero.’
Shannon looked at her, stunned.
‘Really?’ she said, and she realised her mouth and eyes were wide open. She must look like an idiot.
Kelly smiled again, but shook her head.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I can’t stand kids like that.’ She shot a quick look at Shannon, and at the wet mess on her chest.
‘That blood?’ she asked.
Shannon shook her head.
‘Paint,’ she explained. She sniffed, and her nose wrinkled. ‘I think piss as well.’
Kelly also gave a look of disgust.
‘OK,’ she nodded. ‘Just don’t get it on the seats.’
11
As Kelly drove, Shannon’s mind was still trying to work out what was going on. Who was this woman? Where had she come from? The way she was dressed, the stylish clothes, the way she looked, the snazzy car — all screamed money. So why was she doing this?
‘Where are we going?’ asked Shannon.
‘My place,’ said Kelly. ‘You need to get cleaned up. You can’t go home looking like that.’
‘Maybe we should tell the police?’ suggested Shannon. ‘Those kids stole my phone.’
‘Oh yes, and what do you think will happen?’ asked Kelly archly. ‘Will you get your phone back? No. Will the kids get charged? No, because they’re either underage or they’re all lawyered up. Me, on the other hand, I’ll get done for assaulting kids. I’ll be put on some sort of register. You want that?’
Shannon shook her head.
‘No,’ she said.
‘That’s why we’ll do it this way,’ said Kelly. ‘We’ll get you cleaned up at my place and then I’ll run you home. And then we both just get on with our lives.’
‘More people to save?’ asked Shannon. ‘The People’s Avenger.’
Kelly grinned again.
‘Maybe,’ she said.
‘You were really brave,’ said Shannon. ‘They could have killed you.’
Kelly shook her head.
‘Not me,’ she said confidently. ‘No one kills me.’
Kelly pulled the car into an underground car park and led the way to a lift. Like the car, the lift was neat and modern. It was all shiny and clean, voice-activated. High security. As with Kelly’s clothes and her car, everything spelt money.
When they walked into Kelly’s apartment, Shannon’s initial look told her this was no ordinary pad. Expensive designer furniture, big paintings on the walls — and originals, not prints. This place, and everything about the woman herself, spelt out not just money, but class and style as well.
‘Nice place,’ murmured Shannon. ‘What do you do?’
Kelly shrugged.
‘I’m an entrepreneur,’ she said casually.
‘Business must be good,’ said Shannon, looking around the apartment admiringly.
Kelly took some clothes and a fresh towel out of a wardrobe and handed them to Shannon.
‘Here, get cleaned up,’ she said. ‘Then I’ll run you home.’
She took Shannon’s bag from her so Shannon could take the clothes and towel. Shannon hesitated. This was all so weird. People didn’t just turn up and save you from being killed on the street like this. What was it? Was Kelly gay? Was she going to wait until Shannon had her clothes off and was in the shower, and then make her move on her?
If that was the case, why would she bother? A woman like Kelly could get anyone she wanted without going to all this trouble.
Shannon walked into the bathroom. Like the apartment, everything in it was top-of-the-range and state-of-the-art. It was also immaculately clean.
Shannon put the clothes Kelly had given her down on the floor and dumped the towel near the shower.
‘This is so nice of you!’ she called out. ‘Most people don’t do good things these days.’
There was no response from the living room. Shannon turned on the shower and began to take her clothes off.
They stank. They stank of paint, they stank of piss, they stank of the mess from the road.
‘What sort of entrepreneurial stuff do you do?’ Shannon called out, more to find out where Kelly was than anything else.
‘At the moment I’m just starting a new business,’ Kelly called back. ‘Import and export.’
It must pay well, thought Shannon, looking around the bathroom.
She stepped into the shower and let the water hit her. It was a powerful jet, hot, stinging her scalp and face like tiny needles, and she lowered the temperature and the force just a bit. She let the water pour down her body, down her arms, over the scars.
Life was weird. One minute she was happy because Dillon was definitely hitting on her, the next Dillon and Jo were kissing right in front of her and her dream of him crashed down around her. One minute she was living with two parents, the next she had just one. One minute she was on the ground, about to be kicked to death, the next she was in the most luxurious apartment she’d ever seen outside of a movie, being treated like someone special by a complete stranger. Someone with money and power, by the look of it. Certainly someone who wasn’t afraid of anything. Shannon had a memory-flash of Kelly wading into the kids, unafraid even when that kid pulled a knife on her. She was some special person, whoever she was. Those fighting skills, this place — maybe she was some sort of secret agent? But what would a secret agent want with her, Shannon?
Shannon stepped out of the shower, dried herself and pulled on the clothes Kelly had given her. They were so different from anything she’d worn. Top designer labels. Quality material. Stuff that would last, rather than just fray or have holes in after being worn a few times. Shannon had never put on anything like this stuff before, ever.
Dressed, she looked at herself in the mirror, at the clothes. This wasn’t her. But she wasn’t Kelly. She was . . . Shannon in a weird disguise.
She shook her head. It didn’t matter. After all the shit she’d suffered these last two days, at last she’d found someone who had cared enough about her to look after her, protect her.
She opened the bathroom door, and stopped. Kelly had Shannon’s bag open and everything out of it, and was searching the empty inside. Kelly stopped as she saw Shannon. Suddenly there was no longer any friendliness on her face.
Shannon looked at Kelly, stunned.
‘What are you doing?’ she stammered.
‘Where are the Pringles?’ demanded Kelly harshly.
Shannon gaped at her. Pringles? All this was about a box of Pringles?! Shannon stared at Kelly, who looked really agitated. She must be on crack or something, thought Shannon. Something doing some weird shit to her brain. The situation was now dangerous. She could see it in Kelly’s eyes.
‘If you want Pringles I’ll get you some,’ she offered. ‘Or any sort of crisps you want.’
Kelly threw Shannon’s bag down and advanced towards her, her whole body menacing.
‘Where are the fucking diamonds that were in the Pringles box?!’ she snarled.
Shannon’s mind was reeling.
‘What diamonds?’ she said, bewildered.
Kelly let out a roar of anger and hurled herself towards Shannon, hands like claws reaching out. Frantically, Shannon threw herself backwards into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, slipping the lock as she did so. She felt the door shudder as Kelly smacked into it. A howl of rage came from the other side of the door.
‘Open the fucking door!’ stormed Kelly. ‘If you wanna live, you little bitch, open this door right now!’
12
Shannon stood, shaking. This couldn’t be happening. Diamonds! What diamonds? How had they got into that box of Pringles? And how did Kelly know she’d taken the Pringles?
Outside the bathroom, Kelly was speaking again, her voice calmer now, but Shannon could tell she was doing her best to contain her anger.<
br />
‘Just tell me where they are. That’s all I want to know.’
Shannon stumbled to the bath and sat down on the edge. She’d already seen Kelly in action against a gang of armed kids. Kelly would just destroy someone like Shannon.
Shannon looked around the bathroom. There was no way out, except through the door. And Kelly was on the other side.
‘A lot of people have worked very hard for this. Just tell me what you did with them and we can walk away from this.’
The box of Pringles. Shannon had been holding it when the kids attacked her with the paintball guns. It had been knocked out of her hand and fallen down. Should she tell Kelly that? No, because if they went back to the canal and the Pringles box wasn’t there, Kelly would just kill her. And the likelihood was that the box wouldn’t be there. Those kids could have taken it. It could have rolled away or been kicked into the canal.
‘Come on, just take a breath and tell me,’ came Kelly’s voice. She was doing her best to sound calm and friendly, but Shannon had seen Kelly’s eyes just before she slammed the door. Kelly was definitely a killer — Shannon could sense it.
There was silence, and then suddenly the door of the bathroom began to shake as Kelly kicked and beat at it, her voice now raging loudly: ‘Open this door, you fucking bitch, or I will kill you when I get hold of you!’
Shannon looked at the door, terrified. Would it hold against the battering? If it had been one of the doors at her flat, it would have been torn off its hinges at that onslaught, but this was an expensive apartment. The doors were solid wood, the hinges the best that money could buy. Shannon hoped that for the moment she was safe. But how could she get out? There was only one way, and that was through the door, which meant coming face to face with the angry Kelly. Somehow she had to calm Kelly down. Persuade the woman to let her go. The battering against the door continued. Surely even this door wouldn’t be able to withstand it for ever?