Jason Willow: Face Your Demons

by G Mottram

  Jason nodded clearing a lump in his throat - quietly. ‘Yes… I won’t let you down.’

  ‘I know,’ Erin said, releasing his T-shirt and pinching his cheek gently. ‘Your Jakra is really good – let’s hope it’s enough to keep them off me.’

  Jason tried to smile but Erin was already moving.

  Ahead, Eddie had reached the edge of the alley and was watching the main street from the shadows. Oliver’s muscular bulk was a step behind him, tucked in tight against the wall. Erin flattened herself against the opposite wall and trotted silently towards the street. Jason slipped in behind her, sure the whole town must be able to hear his heart pounding. He didn’t want to go out into the light.

  As they drew up, Eddie stepped out into the street, confident and relaxed. Oliver followed and a moment later, Erin walked out behind them. Jason hesitated. He felt as if he were glued to the wall. A drop of cold sweat trickled down the small of his back.

  Erin was moving away from him - he should be at her shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he dashed after her just as she glanced behind.

  ‘For God’s sake, stick to me like glue - I’ve got to know you’re there.’

  Jason just stared at her. Erin looked paler that usual, her mouth and eyes pulled tight.

  ‘Sorry… sorry. Just getting my head together.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Erin hissed under her breath and quickened her step to catch up with Eddie.

  The street seemed ten times as wide as it had when he’d been riding in the van. The lights were so bright - Jason could almost feel eyes watching them although there wasn’t a soul to be seen.

  Straight in front of them was the pub.

  The Abbot and Lashing had its name etched in peeling gold leaf over a dirty green background. The motif was a monk tied to a whipping post. Through the nicotine-yellowed windows, Jason could see at least a dozen silhouettes moving, drinking, smoking. Heavy rock music pounded out, the black double doors pulsing with menace in time to the beat.

  Eddie and Oliver were there already. Eddie glanced back then pushed in through the doors, Oliver at his heels. Erin slowed down a little, letting the doors swing shut again.

  ‘We won’t go in with Eddie - we act as if we don’t know them. You’re some rich underage saddo trying to take his older girlfriend to the pub, alright?’

  Jason nodded and Erin carried on. ‘The scum will think it’s suspicious - two sets of strangers coming in so close to each other, but they won’t be sure and it will split their attention. Don’t look at Eddie when we get inside.’

  ‘Right.’ was all Jason could say. His heart was hammering hard enough to break out of his ribs and cold sweat ran all down his spine.

  ‘Eddie will face down this Jack Delaney character if he’s there. I only step in if anyone else joins in.’

  Erin placed one pale white hand on the doors and glanced back at him. ‘You ready for this?’

  Jason swallowed. ‘Piece of cake.’ he lied.

  Erin’s lips got tighter. ‘Just keep them off me.’ She turned her back on him and turned the handle.

  ***

  Rock music, heat and cigarette smoke hit Jason the instant he stepped into the Abbot and Lashing. He concentrated on staying a step behind Erin while trying to get his bearings in the smoke-hazed, low red light of the pub.

  There were people everywhere - mainly men in jeans and T-shirts. A dark bar lay directly in front of him and stained round tables filled the floor space. Four women, heavily made up and dressed in short skirts and tight tops, sat at the table nearest the door.

  Jason caught sight of Eddie and Oliver, already settled in with their backs to him at the far right of the bar. He forced his eyes to brush over them and followed Erin as she edged between the tables and made directly for the centre of the bar. The music – Jason recognised something about images in a rear view mirror by Meat Loaf - thumped out from an old fashioned jukebox in one corner but that was the only sound. Every eye was on the two of them, flicking over to Eddie and Oliver and back again.

  Erin ignored it all. She found a space at the bar and caught the eye of one of the two barmen – a middle aged, short man with a solid beer belly and greasy hair brushed over a bald patch. The other bartender stared at them with open contempt. He was a tall, young man with an emaciated appearance - bare arms of bad skin stretched over sinewy muscle, chicken neck, drawn face, pulled down eyelids.

  Beer-belly sauntered up. He looked Erin up and down, his eyes lingering on the front of her T-shirt which was stretched tightly across her firm body. He smiled coldly, surprisingly white teeth flashing in the bar’s red spotlights. He ignored Jason and spoke to Erin’s chest.

  ‘He’s too young to be in ‘ere.’

  Erin shrugged. ‘Who’s to check? I’m baby-sitting and I need a drink. Pint of Abbot and a coke for my little brother.’ She’d obviously decided to change the plan for some reason.

  Beer Belly stared at her for a long moment then nodded. ‘The Thirst got you, eh?’ he laughed and reached up for a glass embossed with the Drunken Abbot logo. ‘You know,’ he said as he caressed the long handled pump and then eased it down, ‘if you’re short of cash to pay for this, I’m sure we can work some sort of… deal.’

  Erin didn’t flinch. ‘We’ll see – I’ve got enough for a couple.’

  Beer-belly shrugged and slipped the still swirling pint over to Erin. ‘We’ll see.’ He mumbled, glancing over the pile of coins Erin put on the bar whilst sorting Jason’s Coke. Finally he waddled off.

  Jason breathed again. Trying to appear relaxed, he hoisted himself up on a slashed barstool and took a sip of his coke as he looked around.

  Some conversation had started up again although there were still plenty of narrowed glances being levelled at the strangers. A grating cackle from one of the four women cut through the rock music. All four of them seemed much the worse for drink, some of their eye make-up had run and there was more lipstick around their glass rims than on their mouths. Most of the men had that semi-glazed look - taking a little too long to focus on anything but the glass in their hand.

  There was one table of three men however, who looked anything but drunk. They sat just below a window against the far wall and although they’d half full pints in front of them, none of them were drinking now. One caught Jason watching them and mumbled something. The other two looked up to stare back at the boy at the bar.

  ‘Turn away, stupid - that’s Delaney.’ Erin whispered.

  Jason tore his eyes away and turned back at Erin. She was knocking back the dark ale greedily as if she’d not drunk for a week. ‘I thought that stuff was bad for you – really addictive?’

  ‘You’re not my mother,’ she snapped, putting down her already half-finished pint. Then she smiled, thinly. ‘All part of the addicted sister cover story.’

  Jason nodded, unconvinced. ‘What happened to you being my girlfriend?’

  Erin took another drink. ‘It looked like baldy fancied me and he’d be nicer if I was a sister hooked on the ale and dragging out her little brother for a bit of protection. More of a chance to… Anyway, drink your…’ Erin trailed off as Eddie’s voice rang out across the pub.

  ‘Not slagging off Mr Brash tonight then, Jack?’

  The pub went silent apart from the jukebox finishing off ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’.

  Jason looked over at Eddie. He guessed it was all right to do so now as everyone else was staring that way - apart from Erin who was watching the watchers.

  Two of the three men around the table sat up straighter but the third, sitting in between them, slouched back and resumed supping his pint. The drinker had thick curly black hair, a hard but handsome face and a heavily muscled physique under a clean white T-shirt. The man stared at Eddie - arrogant, lazy almost. Eddie was leaning against the bar, a pint sitting untouched by his side. Oliver stood to his left. Like Erin, he was watching everyone including the bar staff. Eddie carried on.

  ‘So what’s the problem, Jack? Have you run out
of lies about the man who houses, feeds and clothes every single person here – the man who puts money in your pocket so you can drink with your mates every night?’

  Jack still didn’t say anything. One hand slipped down under the table.

  Eddie straightened up, making a show of loosening his shoulders and neck. ‘You know, Jack, there are some people who don’t like to hear loud mouthed, ungrateful drunks making up rubbish about Mr Brash, stirring up trouble… even if that drunk is kissed-off about being passed over for a supervisor’s job.’

  Eddie started to walk slowly towards Jack Delaney’s table and Jack’s two mates pushed their chairs back. Dotted around the floor and tables, two or three other men began to shift, clench and unclench their fists or slip hands into pockets. They would be the first ones to leap in. Oliver stepped away from the bar, staying a pace behind Eddie. Erin just watched, toying with a heavy glass ashtray with one delicate finger.

  Jason glanced around, his heart had started thumping again. Beer Belly and Chicken Neck, the fat and skinny barmen, edged quietly over to where Eddie and Oliver had been then leant on the bar. Were they after a better view?

  ‘Of course,’ Eddie continued, now just two tables away from Delaney, ‘those same people know Jack Delaney was passed over because he’s too busy chatting up other men’s wives and girlfriends to lead a team to their monthly bonuses.’

  Eddie stopped with just one table seating two middle aged, cropped haired men between him and Delaney. ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ finally finished and the jukebox whirred to find the next disc. No one spoke, no one drank. Everyone stared.

  Jack put down his pint and sneered, one corner of his lip curling. ‘Who the hell are you, boy – Brash’s trouble-shooter? Shut your pretty mouth and sod off before I make up my mind how many pieces to leave you in.’

  Eddie held Jack’s stare while behind him, Oliver scanned the room. Erin continued stroking the ash tray - no one else moved.

  Eddie slowly brought his hands together and cracked his knuckles. ‘It’s not my mouth I’ve come to shut, Jack.’

  It all happened at once.

  Delaney shot to his feet, grabbing the table with his two mates and hurling it forward. Two fat men leapt for Eddie from behind and a small, pig-eyed man pulled a baseball bat from nowhere and swung for Oliver.

  Eddie shot out one hand and the flying table leapt off his palm to hurtle back at Delaney. Erin’s fingers snapped shut around the heavy ash tray and she span it straight into the head of one of the fat blokes running for Eddie, felling him instantly. Oliver caught the other fat bloke’s wrist, locked his arm and span him into the swinging baseball bat.

  The whole pub erupted, surging up around the two strangers like some human volcano. Men of all shapes and sizes seemed to fly off Eddie’s punches, to crash into walls and tables. There was no doubt he was Gifted. Behind him, Oliver took on all-comers like some great swaying oak, breaking whatever arms and legs dared come in reach of him or Eddie.

  However, there must have been twenty or more men on their feet and shoving each other to close in around the two of them.

  Erin stepped forward and Jason jumped up after her. Instantly he lost sight of Eddie as he and Erin quietly closed with the mass of heaving bodies and flying furniture. Methodically, unnoticed by any but her victims, Erin skirted the heaving crowd sending jabs to the neck and snap-kicks to the backs of knees. Men dropped and fell away before her as she thinned the drunken, baying mob struggling to reach Eddie and Oliver.

  Feeling useless as he bobbed around behind her, Jason suddenly realised something. Snap attacks didn’t usually have enough force to take grown men out in one blow… Erin must be Gifted as well.

  She’d dropped perhaps five men before three or four others realised what was happening and turned on her. Erin blocked every punch and kick thrown at her and sent men flying or dropping to the floor with heavy sidekicks and palm strikes. Suddenly she stepped too far into the crowd and a big bloke in red reached for her from behind. Jason leapt forward, grabbed his wrist, locked it and snapped the bone.

  The man screamed and backed away.

  It felt good.

  More came at them as the rest of the crowd realised there were two fights going on. The room filled with shouts and screams as Erin and Jason edged further in. Jason moved faster than he’d ever done in his life. His every move was deadly, aimed to break limbs and joints with no mercy but even so, Erin was taking out two or three for every one that Jason fought off. Only metres in front of him, bodies kept flying away from Eddie and Oliver as if caught in a reverse cyclone.

  It should have been over quickly but the drinkers kept on getting up. Noses broken, eyes puffed shut, coughing up blood, the drunken sots still came on. It seemed they knew no fear, no pain. Only broken limbs stopped them.

  Suddenly a couple of lights were smashed and they were enveloped in semi-darkness. The fighting intensified. Jason snap-kicked the knee of one man, blocked, threw and stamped another one and just caught a punch aimed for the back of Erin’s head from a third. They were almost up to Eddie and Oliver when something smashed into Jason’s shin and he fell to one knee.

  The crowd closed in over him and Erin… it was just like Abbeywell Park, hammered on all sides by punching, grabbing, kicking hands and feet. Jason struggled back to his feet, lashing out in all directions and searched for Erin.

  A baseball bat was swinging down for the back of her head.

  He saw it in slow motion, just like the agent’s knife dropping down at Miranda on Mawn. Screaming a warning, he dived forward and pushed Erin away.

  The bat whistled missed her head by an inch but smacked into her shoulder. She dropped as if her legs were water. Beer-belly stepped out of the crowd to loom over the two of them. His white-toothed grin split wide as he kissed the bat and pulled it up for a second strike.

  ‘Eddie’, Jason screamed, slapping away grasping hands and swinging fists he leapt over Erin and lashed out a high kick at Beer-belly but someone grabbed him around the neck and yanked him back. Beer-belly leapt back and his kick missed as the neck-lock cut off Jason’s air.

  Unable to breathe, Jason cracked the ribs behind him with two elbow strikes but the arm only pulled tighter around his throat.

  Beer-belly winked at him, stepped forward again and raised the bat high over Erin who was fighting to get to her knees. The instant the bat began to swing down, Beer-belly flew back into the crowd scattering bodies and tables like skittles.

  Eddie burst through the mob, punching faces to every side of him. He was on full power – his fists were a blur and every person he hit was launched backwards to take down another two or three. Oliver followed him, walking backwards and now armed with a couple of table legs which he swung like synchronized windmills to demolish anyone who stepped in range.

  Jason slipped his hips to the left and swung down with his right fist, crushing the testicles of the man who still held his throat. The man dropped, screaming and Jason leapt over to Erin as Eddie and Oliver reached her. Suddenly there was space around them. The half dozen attackers still standing were finally backing away.

  Oliver slipped one table leg into his belt and lifted Erin to her feet as if she were weighed nothing. She could stand but only with her good arm gripped around his shoulder.

  Eddie glanced at Jason. ‘Get the door.’

  The black doors stood firmly closed on the far side of smashed and upturned tables and several groaning bodies covered with blood and broken glass. Two younger men, both skinheads and both bleeding profusely from their noses stood in the way. Jason brought his fists up and moved towards the door but the skinheads backed off before he’d taken his second step. Jason walked between them to the door and reached for the handle.

  ‘When Jack comes out of hospital - ask him to show a little more respect for Mr Brash, would you?’ Eddie announced to no one in particular. ‘Otherwise, we might have to get serious.’

  Jason glanced past Eddie and shivered. Jack Delan
ey hung upside down, his legs and groin shoved through a shattered window and the rest of him swinging limply against the wall. Eddie motioned Oliver and Erin passed him and followed them, taking the rear guard.

  ‘Have fun out there, arsehole,’ crowed a voice - thin and high. Chicken Neck, the second barman, smiled at them from behind the bar. He waved an old fashioned black Bakelite telephone in the air and laughed.

  ‘I’ll pop back to thank you for that very soon,’ Eddie said and turned to go.

  Chicken Neck whipped up his free hand from behind the bar. There was a metallic glint as he threw something at Eddie.

  ‘Knife!’ Jason yelled and leapt forward to knock Eddie out of the way.

  There was no need. Eddie span back around, caught Jason and flicked a finger to one side. The spinning knife thudded into the wall panelling by his head, quivering silently.

  Eddie winked at the stunned barman. ‘You need a little more practise.’

  Oliver, now at the door, pulled it open and stepped out. ‘Bugger,’ he said.

  Eddie nudged Jason towards the door and they backed out of the pub.

  ‘Mmm, bugger indeed,’ Eddie said.

  A hundred metres up the street, a mob was stumbling out of the next pub along. Every one of them seemed to be carrying a bat, knife or chain. They spotted the four strangers coming out of the Abbot and Lashing and surged towards them, baying like hounds first catching the scent of fox.

  ‘The van, I think.’ Eddie said, pushing Oliver and Erin into a sprint across the street.

  For a moment, Jason was transfixed. He just stood and stared at the mob screaming towards him. A bottle arced through the air and smashed just a step away. He tore after the others who were already disappearing into the alley.

  They were still thirty metres from the van’s shadowed hulk when the screaming mob surged into the alleyway behind them.

  Eddie pushed something metallic into Jason’s hand. ‘The keys. Help Oliver with her, then get the van started.’