by G Mottram
Jason frowned but didn’t reply immediately. He and Tanya must have walked passed dozens of cameras that evening – there should have been loads of footage of them. How embarrassing though – Dad panicking and calling Alan Brash for help.
‘Nobody needed to push the panic button,’ he mumbled. ‘Anyway, who are you, why are you here?’
Marakoff smiled. ‘Ah – I am an old friend of your grandfather – we worked together for a number of years before he retired.’
Marakoff’s walking stick clicked to a stop at the top of the slate steps. Dad and Ilena were waiting just inside the hall, Ilena touching Dad’s arm and still whispering earnestly to him. Miranda was nowhere to be seen.
Jason raised his voice a little to Marakoff. ‘Why didn’t Dad come looking for me himself if he was so worried?’
Marakoff glanced at Dad then turned his steady grey eyes on Jason. ‘A good hunter must know his ground and would never rush in blindly, you understand? Alan Brash has almost every square metre of Darkston village covered by camera… how much quicker would he be to find you than all of us running up and down every one of those little streets?’
A mean image flashed through Jason’s mind - one of Marakoff hobbling around the fluorescent yellowed streets of Darkston, searching through bushes for him with his walking stick.
Dad shut the front door as they stepped into the hall and was in his face again. He wasn’t in ice-mode anymore though - how had Ilena managed that so quickly?
‘What happened, Jason? Brash’s people eventually found you on camera; they said you’d been in a fight but you were in a taxi home… why didn’t you phone?’
Jason felt his cheeks begin to burn. ‘Why the hell did you have to call Mr Brash? How stupid does that make me look?’
‘Just tell me what happened.’ Dad’s voice was calm and low but his eyes were hardening again.
‘Nothing much. I was walking with my… friend, Tanya and I was jumped by a bunch of skin heads and beaten up. Tanya phoned a guy called Eddie and his mates and they helped me because I was being thrashed. Aren’t you glad you didn’t teach me any Gift stuff - I might have hurt those poor Skins instead of it being me ending up like this?’
Dad pulled back like he’d been slapped. ‘You… you had your Jakra…’
‘Against a dozen or more, Dad… I don’t think so. Jakra’s not enough.’
‘Son… I know how you feel but…’
‘So your whole body is throbbing and stabbing knives into you as well, is it? You feel like a bloody coward for running away, do you - leaving the girl you’re with and having to be rescued by her mates?’
‘Jason, if you had been able to use the Gift against those youths you could have killed them - literally killed them - dead. How do you think you’d feel if that happened – you’d be a murderer?’
Jason’s eyes were starting to burn and prickle inside his head. Flashes of the beatings, the kicks and punches filled his mind.
‘And if they’d killed me… or Tanya? Dad you weren’t there, you’re never there. It’s just like in Mawn - I’ve got to learn to look after myself.’
Jason made for the stairs, hot tears welling up. Dad grabbed his shoulder, stopped him.
‘Jason…’ he started.
Jason froze, half of him burning to slap Dad’s hand away and the other half wanting to bury his face in his father’s shirt.
‘Get off me. I’m going to train with these kids at school and then decide for myself about… learning how to use my Gifts and hunting bloody demons or whatever.’
‘Training with what “kids at school”?’ Dad asked. ‘Brash’s little gang of well-dressed thugs?’
‘Yes it’s with the Brash,’ Jason almost shouted, ‘I’m not going to run away any more. The Skins are going to pay for tonight.’
Ilena gently put her hand over Dad’s and eased it away from Jason’s shoulder. Jason stared at her – this had nothing to do with her.
Marakoff stepped to the other side of Dad. ‘Jason – you are angry. All three of us here have been beaten, many times. You need to recognise when winning is impossible or simply just too high a risk and then you get out, you need to run. There is no shame in escaping so you can continue the fight another time – you understand this, I hope?’
Jason grunted. ‘And leaving your girlfriend to look after herself is just fine, I suppose?’
‘Was she in danger? Were these… skin heads intending to harm her or were they just hunting you?’ Marakoff asked.
‘Well… no… she’s sort of protected from them… they let her leave the park but…’
Marakoff clumped a little closer and leaned on one banister. ‘Then she was safe and you were… outnumbered. Time to run, yes?’
Jason stared at him – what did this crippled stranger know about how it felt to run from scum like Hairy? What right had he to even be in on this conversation?
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Jason began, ‘I don’t even know who you are.’
‘I think my brother’s had enough for one night.’ Miranda’s voice cut across the hallway. ‘Maybe we should just let him go and clean himself up and sleep. Dad and I can interrogate him tomorrow.’
Dad took in a slow breath then held up his hands in submission and headed off towards the sitting room.
Ilena gave a sympathetic smile and followed him with Marakoff who raised a hand in farewell.
Willow glanced at his sister. ‘Thanks,’ he said.
Miranda nodded. ‘You owe me,’ she grunted and followed the grown-ups.
***
‘So what do you know about this Brash gang?’ Dad asked.
‘Enough,’ Jason said, sitting down to breakfast the following morning. ‘The kids train up in the gang and then go to work for Mr Brash after leaving school… but then so does everyone in this place.’
‘Have you joined them already?’ Dad said.
Jason dropped his gaze and reached for his toast. As nonchalantly as he could manage he answered before taking a bite.
‘No but told them last night that I will.’
‘So you’re going to train with this gang and then go to work with Alan Brash?’ Miranda said.
‘Not necessarily,’ Willow said. ‘I’m going to train in Jakra with them, let their leader sort out some fights so I can take on the cowards who jumped me one by one and then I’ll see what happens.’
Dad poured them all some more tea. ‘Listen Son, Alan Brash is a very clever manipulator. When he hunted in the Watch he’d use anyone, in any way to achieve his goals. He was successful but his methods didn’t count the cost of human life.’
‘He can’t be all that bad – he’s still working for the Watch, isn’t he?’ Jason said.
‘Well, yes… but he was ordered to leave active hunting and was sent far away to relocate the injured or bereaved.’
‘So they trust him – why can’t you?’
‘Because he controls and uses everyone he can. Look at this place – a relocator is supposed to help Watch members disappear into normal society but he’s gathered them to him and built up a powerful little army of Gifted well trained, well-armed soldiers. We don’t know what he’s up to’
‘So why aren’t the Watch bothered about it?’
‘Because he still has many powerful friends on the Council there and because his brewery makes a fortune for them - money they need for weapons, vehicles, surveillance technology – all things to hunt the Brethren across the world.’
‘Well that all sounds good – he’s helping them.’ Jason said.
‘In many ways, yes, but my point is that he wants to draw you into it all. He’s always wanted us to move into the valley – every time the agents were getting close I had to ask for his help to relocate and he put more pressure on me to ‘come under his protection’. Finally, after your mother was… well, I thought it would be best. Now he’s got you right where he wants you.’
‘You’re not getting it, Dad, are you?’ Jason
said. ‘Maybe I want to be part of it – learn my… my super powers and join the Watch.’
Dad took a slow breath and nodded. ‘No I do get it and to be honest, I can’t really stop you. However, I’m asking you not to get mixed up with Brash… at least until we can work out just what he is up to.’
‘And just how are you going to do that?’ Miranda asked. For once, she’d been listening quietly to the conversation - almost, Jason thought, as if she were trying to decide who to back – him or Dad.
Dad nodded. ‘Fair question. Sergei Marakoff can help with that. He’s what we call a ghost - a spy and assassin for the Watch. He and your Grandfather worked very closely with each other.’
‘What’s he doing here?’ Miranda said.
‘Your grandfather asked him to come when we moved into the valley. He doesn’t trust Brash either and wants to know we’ll be safe.’
‘Ahh, I knew Grandpa loves us really.’ Miranda purred.
‘So how is this Marakoff guy going to find out what evil stuff Mr Brash is supposedly getting up to?’ Jason asked.
‘Marakoff has told the Watch Council that he wants to retire here,’ Dad said, ‘and they’ve informed Brash that he’ll be arriving in the next few weeks for relocation.’
‘So then he can just spy his way around the abbey and village whenever he wants – very clever.’ Miranda said.
‘I’m sure he’ll find out loads with all the cameras, security guards and his… walking problem.’ Jason said, finishing the last of his tea and getting up. ‘I’m going out.’
‘Jason,’ Dad said, putting his cup down, ‘join this gang if you have to, practise your Jakra but for now, keep away from Alan Brash and learning your Gifts. Wait until we know more about him and… give yourself time to think.’
‘Okay, Dad – for now but no promises, all right?’
‘No promises,’ Dad said and went to refill the kettle.
***
The following Monday saw the start of a month of intensive training with the Brash gang.
His first week quickly blurred into a daily round of squeezing Jakra into lunch hours and after school sessions before going home in time to eat and sleep.
The Brash gang-hut was actually a fully equipped training hall, complete with mats, punch bags, wooden weapons from knives up to quarterstaffs and body protection for serious sparring. There was even a set of four power-shower cubicles and lockers for spare clothes.
Most of the training was led by Fast Eddie and Erin Brock. The two of them trained in Alan Brash’s abbey at the weekends and then in turn, instructed the Brash members at lunch times, after school and whenever they felt like skipping lessons.
Training was hard and punishing. If you lost concentration, Eddie or Erin wouldn’t hold back with the blows, throws or locks you had allowed through your defences.
Fast Eddie deserved his name. Jason had never seen anybody move so quickly, one move flowing into another. His hands were a blur as they punched you three times before you could breathe or slapped on a lock and flipped you onto your back in some greased lightning body throw. Jason learned quickly however, his lifetime of training and his determination helped soak up Eddie and Erin’s instruction.
The Brash version of Jakra emphasised limb breaking, incapacitating and even killing. Every style of punch, knife-hand, kick, throw and lock was designed for maximum damage against a stronger opponent. Dad’s techniques had also been focussed on incapacitating but only to allow you time to escape from a situation quickly. Consequently, Jason found he could block a lot of his sparring partners’ moves and floor them but he’d a lot to learn about finishing off an opponent so that they would not get up again… possibly ever. It all had the feel of going far beyond even the Pit fights in Silent Hill. This training was for life and death situations and Jason kept reminding himself this is exactly what he needed.
By the end of that first week Jason was dimly aware that he was changing.
His training filled his mind and normal, non-Brash life faded into a hazy background. He still kept up with his lessons but moved away from Violet to sit with the only two other Brash members in his class - dark haired twins, Jack and Jayne Ryehouse. Neither was Gifted but they both trained hard in the hope of getting in to Brash Security when they left school. Jayne, who was almost as stocky as her brother, was the better fighter of the two but they worked exceptionally well as a pair, seeming to know each other’s moves and defending and attacking almost as one body. Working together, they beat Jason more often than not in those first few days.
He felt a bad about dropping his friendship with Violet but he didn’t want to hear any of her arguments against his joining the Brash. Twice, she moved over to talk to him when he was on his own between lessons or strutting through the tunnels to the clubhouse. Both times he made some excuse and walked on. She stopped trying after that.
As for Mouse and Louisa, examination study leave had begun and that meant they were hardly in school at all. No doubt Dad had told Ilena about him joining the Brash and so neither of them would want to see him anyway. What did he care?
At home, there was a sort of quiet acceptance. The Brash organised a taxi home for him each night so he could stay to train. He usually arrived back at the Old Mill after eight o’clock, wolfed down whatever Dad had left for him in the kitchen and exhausted, hit his bedroom. Miranda and Dad were always there when he got back, even attempting to sit with him while he ate for the first few days. Conversation was stilted – he was doing something Dad didn’t want him to but was powerless to stop – what more was there to be said.
Miranda gave up on him by day three and ate in front of the television. Dad stayed as Jason’s withdrawal didn’t seem to concern him too much – not now he’d his two friends to “play with” - Ilena Russof and Marakoff. Marakoff it seemed, had moved into the attic rooms – they didn’t want Brash to know he was here yet while he snooped around the valley.
In the second week, the revenge fights began. First Jason took out Hairy – the big Skin from the bus. After that, Fast Eddie said it would give them better odds in the Pit-side betting if he tweaked things a little. The next fight he matched Jason against two of the park-attack Skins at the same time.
Jason got hurt in that one. Dad had trained him and Miranda in fighting two opponents and he’d had some multiple Brash opponents in training the previous week but this was something else. One of the Skins managed to get behind him as he was smashing the other to the floor. Jason took a hard kick in his back and went down. It took a desperate snap-kick from the ground to crack his second assailant’s knee and then a leg sweep to bring him down, lock him up and make him scream for a while before letting him submit. Erin had to help Jason out of the Pit as the crowd ranted and screamed for more blood.
In the third week, the fights really began to heat up. Particularly satisfying was fighting the ferret-faced Skin who had run Jason down in the park. The Skin had been given a baseball bat to even up the odds a little. Another was against a huge but slow monster who Jason dimly remembered laying into him with massive punches as he’d been struggling to get into the trees. Jason dealt out a lot of pain in both bouts with only minor damage to his own hardening body.
Now the kids at Silent Hill moved out of his way in the corridors. Everybody looked at him, their glances coming in two flavours - fear or admiration. The Brash whooped him or slapped his shoulder whenever they passed, the Skins muttered and swore under their breath and there were still a few that held his gaze defiantly… that would change, they would all learn eventually.
It wasn’t all training and fighting in the Brash hut - there was always the very pleasant distraction of the girls. Tanya became very friendly although there were no more after-school pizza trips on offer during his intensive training. After each fight she was always around to strip off his shirt and massage his back however, while the rest of the gang celebrated with cans of lager and pounding rock music. None of them went to lessons during a post-fight af
ternoon and no teachers ever came to dig them out of their hut.
One month after the ambush in the park, Jason was stronger, faster and more lethal than he’d ever been in his life.
***
On the Monday of the fifth week since joining the Brash, the last one before summer half term, Violet cornered him.
‘Have you had enough yet?’
Jason looked around to see who was watching. Violet had caught him coming out of the west passage en route to the Brash hut which most normals and obviously Skins avoided. Apart from a few of his gang, there was no one around.
‘Hi Violet, how are you?’ Jason asked, leading her a little away from the hut. Now he looked, she appeared even more harried than normal.
‘Fine and dandy, thanks. Have you had enough of it yet?’
‘Enough of… the fighting?’ Jason ventured.
‘Yep.’
‘No, not really.’ Jason said, resigning himself to a lecture. ‘There’s still three Skins I need to get even with and…’
‘You haven’t seen the half of it yet.’ Violet said, quietly.
‘The half of what?’
‘The fighting doesn’t end at the Pit you know… that’s just practice. They take you out onto the streets – into Drunken Abbot mainly, but sometimes here, in the village late at night… after curfew.’
‘Violet, I want to keep training, I need real fights to…’ Jason began.
‘You’ve never been here in Darkston after curfew have you?’
‘No, but then I guess that’s sort of the point of a curfew, isn’t it?’
‘Well obviously… but have you ever wondered why a sweet little village like ours needs a curfew… it’s a little unusual don’t you think.’
Jason ran his fingers back through his hair. What was Violet getting at? ‘Something to do with stopping gang fights…?’ he asked.
Violet shook her head slowly. ‘Just the opposite – curfew’s when the real fighting starts. It keeps everyone else out of the way – makes sure they don’t see anything. People get killed, Jason… as in dead.’