He quickly placed an order for his and Penelope’s food, as well as Bex’s – salt, no vinegar – before standing aside and warming himself on the chip shop’s hot, metal counter. His entire body seemed to unload its weight onto his elbows as he leaned, like he’d been fighting off the urge to fall down the whole time without realising it. The amount of anger he felt was worrying, yet he felt so strangely numb at the same time. It was as if the encounter with the gang had sent him into some sort of daze.
And you still have to walk back past them to get home…
What the hell should I do? I’m not going to let them scare me into not walking the street outside my house. Andrew sighed and rubbed at his eyes. I should have said something at the time – stood up to them. Bet they’re a bunch of cowards against anyone that gives as good as they get.
That’s it! That’s what I’ll do. I’m going to stand up to the little swine and his buddies on my way back. See how big he is then. He’s just a kid, I’m not going to let him scare me.
“-ful they’re hot.”
Andrew looked up from the counter. “Huh?”
The blond girl nodded to a plastic bag in front of him. “I said, careful they’re hot.”
Andrew took the bag full of food from the girl, thanked her, and paid her. Then he wandered towards the door. Before he got there though, the girl called after him.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Andrew turned back around, wondering what it was about him that had caused the girl concern. “I’m fine, thanks. Just had a run in with a gang of youths, that’s all. Haven’t quite calmed down about it yet.”
The girl’s face dropped. “You don’t mean Frankie Walker, do you?”
Andrew shrugged. “Don’t know their names.”
“Red beanie hat? Weird twitch?”
Andrew nodded.
The girl shook her head and wore a grim expression. “I’d be careful if I were you. He just got out of a young offender’s home and he’s been messed up ever since – total nutcase.”
Andrew huffed. “He’s just a boy. I’m not going to let him intimidate me.”
“Just watch yourself, okay? I mean it; he’s a nasty-piece of work.”
Andrew stood in the doorway and thought for a moment. It felt wrong to let a teenaged boy bother frighten him. This was a country where everyone had the right to be free, safe, and happy. No one had the right those things away from him. He wouldn’t allow it.
“What’s your name?” Andrew asked the girl.
“Charlie.”
“Well, Charlie,” he said, doing his best to smile. “Thanks for the advice, but I think I’ll be just fine. You take care yourself, okay?” He pulled open the exit door and stepped back out into the cold. The night had now fully arrived since he’d been inside the chip shop. The world had gone dark beyond the streetlamps that lit the small shopping area.
As he started his walk down the road, the warming aroma of hot chips and acrid vinegar made Andrew’s mouth water and he suddenly couldn’t wait to get home. It was a greasy, unhealthy dinner, but he could stand to put a few pounds on his slender frame anyway. Bit of junk food never hurt anybody, he thought as he picked up speed, hunger encouraging him onwards.
He rounded the final corner before home and Andrew thought about the youths. It was surprising that his mind had briefly turned to other things, but it had been easier once he decided that this ‘Frankie’ and his followers were not going to intimidate him. Despite that, it was a relief when it turned out they had moved on from their previous spot. The street corner was now free of their presence and the cones of light from the street lamps illuminated nothing but the cracked and worn pavement of the road.
Cowards. Didn’t have the balls to stay and go through with their threats.
Andrew was just about to smile when he heard voices. He narrowed and strained his eyes, seeking out bodies in the darkness, but ended up using his ears to hone in on their direction. The noise was coming from several yards ahead.
Andrew spotted the youths. They loitered around a car that sat on the curb in front of his house – it was his car. Frankie was sitting on the bonnet, lent back on his elbows and laughing.
“Cretin!” Andrew almost spat the word as he headed across the street.
Frankie saw him coming and waved happily.
Don’t you wave at me, you insolent little shit.
“Hey man,” said Frankie. His eyes narrowed beneath the brow of his beanie hat. “You got my cigarettes?”
Andrew rushed over to the group and this time felt none of the shock or anxiety that had plagued him during his earlier encounter. “No, I haven’t got your goddamn cigarettes! Now get the hell off my car.”
Frankie did as he was told. He slid off the bright red bonnet of Andrew’s car then looked back behind him, seemed to admiring the vehicle. “Nice motor, mate. What is it, a Mercedes SLK, yeah?”
“Yes,” said Andrew. Impatience enveloped every word that came out of his mouth. “Now, please, just step away from it. It’s brand new.”
Frankie nodded his head and whistled. “You hear that everyone? Brand new Mercedes. Nice.”
“Yeah,” said a teenage girl beside him. Her unkind face was caked in gaudy make-up and framed by streaky-blonde hair. Her tits were practically hanging out of her top despite the chilly weather. “Thinks he’s well bling, innit.”
Andrew stared at the girl for a moment and then shook his head. “Do you know how stupid you sound, young lady?”
“Thinks his shit don’t stink,” added a Black kid who was identical to the lad standing next to him. They were obviously twins, matching in both genetics and clothing; they wore the exact-same blue jeans and none-descript white t-shirts.
“I don’t think anything like that,” said Andrew. “I just think you should respect other people’s belongings, and that pretty young girls should be home this time of night.”
Andrew didn’t know why he used the word ‘pretty’, she was anything but. It was meant to be a placating gesture to try and stem the animosity. It seemed to do the opposite though and the girl scowled angrily before spitting right at him.
“Fucking Perv,” she said. “You’re a pedo, innit? A sick, child-banging pedo!”
Andrew’s temper broke its bonds. “How dare you! Show some bloody respect to your elders, you spiteful little cow.”
Frankie shot forward and pushed Andrew’s shoulder, jarring the plastic bag from his hand and spilling the chips all over the road. He moved forward again and poked Andrew hard in the chest, repeating the gesture with each word that came out of his mouth. “I…think…you…need…to…respect…me…”
The sudden fright flooded Andrew’s system with a surge of adrenaline. His stomach turned over and he was almost sick all over the teenager’s shoes, but he would not allow such an indignity to take place.
I’m not going to be intimidated by this hooligan again. No way in hell.
Andrew snarled right back at Frankie who was now wore a smug grin. “Why the hell would I respect an idiot like you? You’re nothing but a pathetic bully trying to show off.”
Frankie seemed to enjoy Andrew’s reaction. He turned and looked over his shoulder at his gang. They were all laughing and still crowded around the Mercedes.
“Now, now,” said Frankie in a patronising voice like he was trying to teach a foreign language to a guinea pig. “No need to get upset, mate. We’re just talking. In fact, it’s me that should be upset.”
Andrew huffed. “Why, exactly, is that?”
Frankie punched Andrew in the stomach. The sudden pain was excruciating and took away his breath so completely that it felt like he no longer had lungs. Andrew fell to his knees.
Frankie crouched down beside him. “I asked you for a pack of cigarettes, mate, and you just mugged me off – not to mention perving at my girlfriend. I thought we were friends, mate, but you hurt my feelings.”
Andrew couldn’t speak. The tightness in his chest and stomach see
med like it would never let up; like he’d never manage to take another breath again. Mortal panic took control of every cell in his body as he struggled to suck in even the tiniest morsel of oxygen.
Frankie straightened back up, laughing, and kissed his fist like a trophy. “Come on, gangsters. Let’s leave this piece of shit to eat his chips up off the floor. We’ll carry this on another day. Nice trainers by the way, mate; got to get me a pair of those.”
Andrew rolled onto his side as the youths left him, and gradually – very gradually – his breath came back to him in great heaving gasps, the noises coming from his throat sounding like a dolphin in distress. Part of him wished for his family to run out and comfort him, but another part – a bigger part – made the thought of them seeing him like this intolerable. Tenderly, Andrew got to his feet, using his palms against the floor to steady him. He was shaken and felt sick – sicker than ever – but his stomach just about managed to control itself. When he looked down at the scattered chips and mashed-up cod on the floor Andrew realised he was crying. Several lonely tears crept down his cheeks and left freezing cold trails behind them. He didn’t know if they’d been caused by pain, fear, or shame and humiliation. The fact that someone had frightened him to tears made Andrew feel pathetic. The fact that it was a child made him feel even more so.
He shot forward and heaved up the meagre contents of his near-empty stomach, coating the discarded chips on the floor in a hot broth of undigested coffee and biscuits he’d eaten earlier.
Three minutes later, Andrew wiped his mouth and started the long, lonely journey up the path to his house. It no longer felt like home.
Q and A with Iain Rob Wright
By http://petrifiedtank.blogspot.com/
Hi Iain, first and foremost, you have a new novel out, Animal Kingdom. Can you tell us about it?
Yeah, sure. It’s out this this month by Grand Mal Press (www.grandmalpress.com) and will be available on Amazon and other online retailers in paperback and digital formats. It’s a bit like a zombie novel, a bit like Jurassic Park, and a bit like Cujo! I wanted to write a zombie novel but felt that people were probably getting sick of them by now (there’s just so many – a ‘horde’ of them you could say!), so I tried to think of something unique. My idea was to trap a bunch of people at the zoo on the day when every animal in the world goes crazy! Thus begins a thrilling journey of bloodthirsty gorillas, angry alligators, and a whole host of other insane animals (as well as despicable human beings).
The book also contains a collection of short stories set in the Animal Kingdom universe as a bonus (including one by my good friend, author, Eric S Brown). I like to give my readers value.
The Final Winter sounds like a cracker...was this your first novel or your first published novel?
It’s the first thing I would claim to be a novel. Things I have written before were just the rambling nonsense of a writer trying to find his voice. When I finished The Final Winter I knew that I had finally written something worth sharing (and thankfully it seems, so far, that others agree). It’s an apocalyptic novel that is quite light-hearted in places, but deadly serious in others. The twist at the end tends to get most people as well which I am proud of. The summary for the novel is below:
‘THE SNOW WAS JUST THE START...
On a night when it begins snowing in every country of the world, an ordinary group of people gather at a rundown English pub. At first they assume the weather is just a random occurrence and nothing to worry about - but as the night goes on, weirder things happen, and they start to realise that something far more sinister is at hand. Something that none of them could ever have imagined.
By the end of the night, not everyone will make it, and those that do will wish they hadn’t.’
You have another novel coming out next year, ASBO...I love the cover for this...what stage is this at?
I do, yes. In fact I finished the 1st draft this week and have just started the editing phase. It’s a bit of a detour from my previous work in that it is a thriller and not a horror. It’s about a man that falls foul of the local gang of youths that decide to target him in an ever-increasing scare-campaign. More on that just after Christmas. My general plan is to release at least 3 novels this year with perhaps a 4th if I have time. (I write 8 hours a day!).
Do you feel that British horror authors are underrepresented worldwide?
I guess considering the size of our island compared to the vast United States then I guess our ratio is about what it should be. But when you take into account the literary heritage (especially in horror) of the UK then I think we should have more exposure. There are a few current UK writers that I admire, but nowhere near enough.
I read reviews of your work, citing your use of humour – do you think humour is essential to good horror?
Not really – that’s just my own individual style. Sometimes humour is more welcome than other times. My novel ASBO due next year is extremely grim and serious in nature so any humour would feel out of place and insensitive, but The Final Winter contains quite a lot of fantastical elements that a reader would not accept if the book took itself too seriously. Comic horror is a separate genre, I believe, and only applies to some stories. However, if I see an opportunity to make someone laugh right after scaring them then I will – it’s the best of both worlds for the reader then. So in summary, I don’t believe comedy is essential but if used correctly and appropriately it can add an additional layer of depth to a book. Being British I naturally have quite a light sense of humour and I hope this comes across in my writing.
What response are you looking for from readers of your books?
I want life-long readers if that’s too much to ask? I want someone to enjoy a book I’ve written and then immediately go out and by one of my others. The reason for this isn’t completely financial. I make a great effort to link all of my novels together into an overall universe and by reading several of my books you will pick up additional story threads and unravel a little more of the ‘big picture’. This bit of added fun is a way for me to reward my regular readers. I don’t wish to make a massive societal commentary through my work – I just want to entertain people and make them smile. I also understand that I owe as much loyalty to my readers as they do to me, which is why all of my books contain bonus content such as short stories. It’s my way of saying ‘thanks’.
I read all the short stories on your blog, and The Peeling of Samuel Lloyd Collins caught me just right – do you publish many shorts?
To be perfectly honest, I HATE WRITING SHORT STORIES! I find no pleasure in writing them and most of my ideas are ‘big picture’ ideas that need to be told in a novel format. However, writing short stories is a way to release content to my fans a little more quickly and also to give away free to promote my work, so I understand their importance. I am not a wholly confident writer of short stories, but I will endeavour to improve and hopefully come to love writing them. The Peeling of Samuel Lloyd Collins in one I am particularly proud of however.
Finally, can you tell us where we can find more about you, and links to your work?
I have a regularly updated website at: http://www.iainrobwright.com
You will find all of my contact details there, as well as a link to my blog, short stories, and more. Thanks for having me Craig. It’s been an honour.
Thrillobytes: bite-sized horror Page 15