by Ian Woodhead
He grabbed the handles of his trolley, stared at the black and white tiles, and pushed his trolley past both shops while grinding his teeth. If it wasn’t for the fact that without this crappy job, where he’d probably end up sleeping rough again, he would have marched right in there and punch that clown right in the chops.
“None of these kids have any respect for me,” he muttered.
Henry always told him to lighten up whenever Desmond got like this, reminding him that they were exactly the same at their age. He’d flash those stumpy teeth, blast out that rotting-meat breath, and call him a miserable old bastard.
He reached the new car display and turned left, heading towards the restroom area. Maybe Henry did have a point. He did admit that recently the tolerance for these kids had reached an all-time low. Thing is, he just couldn’t help himself. Just being close to anyone under the age of twenty-five made him want to either hit them or, if they were pretty, take them to bed. The chances of doing either were slim to none, not if wanted to keep this shit job or wanted to go to prison.
Desmond stopped by the restroom corridor. He waited for some older man wearing a Martin’s Department Store uniform to pass him before opening his special bag. Along with the chicken, he had also collected a slice of meat feast pizza, two burger meat patties, and a lump of spicy beef. He left out the fries.
He knew for a fact that his new pet wouldn’t eat those. Desmond had second thoughts about the pizza too. From what he’d found out, little Joey wasn’t keen on anything but meat.
None of this stuff was for him, despite what Henry thought. He grinned to himself, remembering the old man’s face when he’d noticed Desmond’s special bag last night. Just like that nosey old bastard, Henry had swiped the bag off the trolley and opened it up, chuckling at the sight of the two pieces of fried chicken that Desmond had swiped from a table just ten minutes earlier.
Last night, though, was a bit of a strange time for him. For last night was when he found the little bird; at least, that’s what it looked like.
The bloke from the department store hadn’t even noticed this cleaner. Desmond could have stood here in his birthday suit and that clown wouldn’t have paid the slightest bit of attention, not that this came as a surprise to him. Still, it paid dividends to be careful.
On his shift, last night, he had come across what had to be the weirdest thing he had ever found on his travels. Desmond was quite used to finding dropped money, watches, phones, even underwear. He considered that to be a perk of the job. The guy behind the bar in the Lamb and Flag paid well for some of the gear he brought in. Not the underwear, though. That went in the bin, unless it was from some female teen; that ended up under his bed.
Of all the gear he had found, nothing compared to the pretty bird that had poked its head out from under one of the cubicles in the gents. After putting his racing heart back where it lived, Desmond crouched gently swinging the door inwards so he could see the rest of it. He had frowned. He’d frowned a lot. Although it was covered in red and blue feathers and had bird feet, hell, it even sounded like a sparrow. It clearly wasn’t a bird, not with teeth like that.
For the first time in weeks, Desmond laughed out loud at the sight of this weird little animal cocking its head to one side while chirping like a sparrow. Looking back, that had been a very dumb idea as he must have shocked the life out of it.
The bird’s feathery arms pushed forwards, showing Desmond those hooked claws before it ran straight for his face. His old army training kicked in just in time, and he fell to the side, hitting his head on the tiles. A slight bump to his head was better than losing his nose to those teeth or it turning his cheeks into bloodied ribbons.
Desmond snapped his arm towards the bird and wrapped his fingers around the squawking creature’s neck. He gave it a gentle squeeze, grinning when it suddenly stopped making all that headache-inducing noise. Despite his brush with a trip to A&E, Desmond was still chuckling away. His find was dangerous, mean-tempered and unpredictable, just like him.
He’d got himself a new pet, something weird and nasty, a meat-eater, that’s for sure. Desmond had no idea how it had gotten into the toilets or where it had appeared from. At first, he assumed the bugger must have escaped from Franco’s Pet Emporium on the second floor. Thing is, he knew that fat old shithead didn’t have anything more exotic in that place anymore, not since the baby alligator incident. The only animals suffering in that shop were two old rabbits and a parrot missing its feathers. Besides, Desmond would have heard about it by now.
It didn’t matter where it had come from. The bird-thing belonged to him now and that’s all that mattered. Desmond closed his special bag and looked up. If Franco wanted to argue otherwise, well, he was welcome to chat to Desmond’s fists.
He carried on wheeling his trolley as calm as you like towards the double doors that led to the maintenance areas. He noticed a few more yawning employees slouching about, making their way to their respective shops.
As per usual, not one of them acknowledged him. He was just another piece of the mall, part of the furniture. This was fine by him. Desmond didn’t want these drones to meddle in his affairs. They had their world, and Desmond had his world. None of them had a clue of the hidden kingdom lying inches beyond these sparkly walls.
He unlocked the plain grey door and pushed it open, Desmond wheeled the trolley inside and closed the door behind him. Now he felt that he could truly relax, knowing that no bugger would find him in here. This was his place, his sanctuary. Well, it was during his shift. Oh, the other cleaners came here, but only to grab supplies. They didn’t venture any further from this storeroom, not like him.
Desmond flicked on the lights, illuminating the rows of blue metal shelves, containing everything the janitors needed to do their jobs. He left the trolley by the door and walked past the clear containers containing the various chemicals they used, past the boxes full of sponges, wipes, and cloths. He moved past the rolls of toilet tissue and the replacement mop heads.
He had no interest in any of that stuff. The other door, the one which led into the maintenance areas, was what had his complete attention. The door that Desmond had locked only twenty minutes ago and now it stood wide open.
“You have got to be having a laugh here,” he growled, rushing over to the door. How could this be? There wasn’t anybody else in the mall at this time who could have been in here. Even the hired security guards weren’t authorised in here. He paused; there was the operations manager but right now, Mrs. Killmore would be making sure that everything was ready for today’s trade. She sure as fuck wouldn’t be skulking around here.
Desmond held onto the edge of the door trying to stop the shakes. Usually, he wouldn’t have cared about it, but his pet was down there. The pet that would be making him a lot of money. This didn’t make any sense at all. No matter how many times he went through this, it still came to the simple fact only he and that fat dyke held a key.
“The security cameras!” His mouth dried up. Why hadn’t he thought of those? Oh, there were no cameras in the toilets, but there were plenty of them dotted about the mall. One of them must have seen him last night, taking his exotic bird down here. She must have seen him.
Desmond peered around the door expecting to see her standing there with his pet at her feet, her hands planted on her hips, giving him a look that could melt stone. There wasn’t anybody there. Hell, the light wasn’t even on. Mrs. Killmore wouldn’t go down there without turning on the lights. His fingers brushed over the light switch, but he didn’t flick the switch. This changed things. It meant that somebody was in there who wasn’t allowed. He didn’t want to throw any light on the matter, nor did Desmond want to shout out.
His fingers then touched something on the wall that was wet. He brought his digits to his face, frowning at the sight of thick blood dripping from his fingertips. Oh, this changed things all right. Desmond rushed back to his trolley and grabbed the adjustable wrench that he’d tried to fix that do
dgy wheel with earlier.
Desmond’s suspicious mind had already constructed the whole reason for the open door mystery, a theory which totally fit the facts. He gripped the wrench tightly and hurried over to that door. He flicked on the switch, not giving a crap anymore. It had to be Franco down there, it was obvious now. That slimy dago must have been the one who’d seen him take the bird down here. Of course, he wouldn’t have it displayed in his shop. Everyone knew the man was as dodgy as fuck. There’s no way that Franco could pay the mall’s exorbitant rent through selling a few bags of food. He must have a sideline of selling illegal exotic animals. It all made sense now.
Yeah well, the bird was his now. The cleaner nodded to himself. Nobody stole from Desmond, not unless they enjoyed hospital food. He saw a few more spots of blood along the wall and the floor. He guessed that the bird wasn’t too keen on going back either. Unlike Desmond, that Franco obviously hadn’t realised just how mean this multi-coloured bird could be.
This blood wasn’t going to be Franco’s only donation this morning, that’s for damn sure. If he could find the thieving bastard that is. Last night’s self-assurance that no bugger would find his new pet now hit him right in the face.
How exactly was he going to find the bugger? This place really was a maze of pipes, venting, corridors, and alcoves. He remembered telling Henry that you’d be able to hide a couple of bull elephants down here, as long as they didn’t make much noise, of course.
He stopped beside another door which led to a metal ladder to get to the roof. God, he was such an idiot. The first place to check was obviously where he had left his bird last night. Desmond spun around and went back the way he came, until he reached a metal hatch embedded in the corridor wall. As he suspected, the hatch wasn’t locked. Then again, Desmond wasn’t a hundred percent sure that he had locked it.
The hatch swung open, and he grimaced when his fingers found a couple more spots of wet blood on the edge on the hatch. It looked like his bird hadn’t gone without a bit of a fight. “Good for you,” he whispered, climbing inside. Desmond crawled along the chute on all fours, continuously cursing at the mess that his hands and knees were sliding through.
It’s only when Desmond finally reached the small enclosed room, and gaped at the collection of wet bones and lumps of unidentifiable flesh piled in all four corners, when he believed that perhaps this wasn’t one of his brightest ideas. Desmond also believed that maybe this wasn’t Franco’s doing after all.
Desmond climbed out of the hatch, wiped his hands down the sides of his overalls, and stared at the empty cage in the corner on this slaughterhouse. Oh Lord, had his new pet really caused all this mess? He crouched and surveyed the scattered remains. Now that his mind had settled down, Desmond could now see, that although it looked like somebody had been in here dancing while holding a tin of red paint, the devastation looked worse than it actually was. He reached across and picked up a rat’s tail attached to half a body. In fact, there were dozens of gutted rat bodies scattered across the floor.
His pet sure was hungry. There were a few mouse carcasses on the floor as well. No wonder none of the traps had been full. All that remained to check, was where it had gone to, and that large pile of flesh and bones that was right behind him. Desmond decided not to examine that too closely, in case he found something he didn’t like.
Desmond had to face facts, his pet could be anywhere by now. There were over a dozen pipes wide enough for it to scurry through in here. Not to mention the hatch that he came through, as well as another pipe on his left that was large enough for even Desmond to squeeze into.
He felt his anger beginning to return. Why the fuck had he left it in here in the first place? He should have taken it home with him last night. Thanks to his incompetence, Desmond had lost out on what could have been a potentially large amount of money.
To make matters even worse, he now had to find another set of overalls to change into. He couldn’t exactly walk around Hopeview Mall looking like a murder victim. They’d certainly notice him dressed like this as he pushed that trolley with the fucking squeaky wheel.
“What a mess!”
As he turned to climb back through the hatch, Desmond froze as he heard what sounded like scratching coming from that large tunnel. Could his pet be returning? A smile broke out on his face. Of course it was returning. The bird had been out rat hunting. It was always going to return, after all, this was its little home, its den.
Still grinning, Desmond turned and walked over to the large pipe and stood beside it, getting ready to catch it when it poked its little head through the opening. It must catch them and bring its food here to eat in peace. At least he knew what to feed it now. Desmond looked across at the cage he’d used. It wasn’t too badly damaged. He could fix that up while it ate the rat, and then use the food in his special bag to lure it in the fixed-up cage. It sounded like a plan with no faults.
He listened to the sound that of those claws tapping against the inside of that pipe. It sure sounded bigger now, a lot bigger. Desmond found his feet moving back a couple of inches as a large shadow hit the wall above the cage. He heard a noise too, and it sure as fuck wasn’t a chirp. This sounded more like the growl of a bear.
His instinct for self-preservation was a lot greater than his greed. Desmond ran back to the hatch just as a feathered muzzle poked through that pipe exit. He almost had a stroke at the sight of what resembled his pet, only much larger. This thing was the size of a pony. Its amber eyes focussed on Desmond. It dropped the severed arm it held in its jaws and leaped out of the pipe.
He shrieked and tried to climb into the hatch, hot piss streaming down both his thighs. Desmond’s feet skidded on some gore. He crashed onto the floor, still sobbing and crying. He turned onto his back and watched this brightly coloured nightmarish creature pick up its severed arm, and take it over to the corner, ignoring the fact that he was even there. Desmond sat up, not too sure how he was still alive. That current state wouldn’t be permanent if he didn’t get a move on. He shuffled backward until his spine hit the wall before slowly standing, keeping his attention on the big bird while it daintily bit off the fingers one by one.
Something in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Desmond found that he and big bird weren’t the only things in this chamber that moved. The pile of bones and flesh in the corner suddenly shifted. Big bird’s head lifted at the same time as Desmond turned his head. He groaned in terror when the bones and flesh fell away as what could only be described as a man-shaped animal covered in bright yellow feathers rose.
“I’m dreaming this,” said Desmond. “This can’t be fucking real.”
The bird man lifted its arm and pointed a silver pipe at Big Bird. A high-pitched whistle filled the chamber, and Big Bird fell on its side.
Desmond was already in the hatch crawling away when the high-pitched noise filled the air one more time. He screamed out in utter agony when it felt as though somebody had set every nerve in his body alight.
Chapter Four
Leaving the mall for lunch had been the best decision that he had ever made. Jefferson couldn’t believe that he hadn’t done this before. To think that he’d worked there for almost two years and never set foot outside the building once at lunch. He pushed in the last piece of his Cornish pasty and idly brushed the crumbs off his lap before taking a sip of coffee. The food hadn’t been that great, and this coffee was instant, but none of that mattered. For the first time in two years, he was able to enjoy his meal in relative silence, as well as being able to watch those clouds roll across that beautiful blue sky.
“Silence is definitely golden,” he whispered, smiling as a startled pigeon flew past the cafe window, almost crashing into a lamp post. “Stupid bird.”
The last straw, the one that did break the camel’s back and cemented his decision to ditch those losers and leave the mall, happened at morning break when David came out with yet another one of his lies and told everybody at their table that h
e heard some kid had been taken to hospital because some stray dog had bitten this kid on the leg.
Although it did sound weird, something like this happening wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility. What pissed off Jefferson was David’s inability not to jump into bullshit land. He then leaned across the table, and in some conspiratorial voice, told everybody that this dog was covered in bright blue feathers.
This had to be his best idea yet. He already felt the stress and misery sloughing away. He’d already decided to visit the library tomorrow after grabbing a burger from the Wimpy bar on Needle Road. He’d have gone there today if it hadn’t been for that annoying old bloke campaigning for some charity, who accosted him as soon as he left the mall.
Jefferson drained his coffee, stood, and smiled at the pretty waitress who’d served him before leaving the cafe. It was time to return and face the music. With some luck, David would get in a strop on not talk to him for the rest of the day for abandoning them. “I can only hope.”
He stopped just outside the shop and watched a parade of soldiers marching past the city hall. Jefferson would have to mention this to Sandy; she had a thing for men in uniform. Especially ones carrying guns. Obviously, he would wait until he was in the company of David before he opened his mouth, just to enjoy the fleeting look of extreme jealousy on his face while Sandy told them how they made her go weak at the knees.
Would Sandy have noticed Jefferson if he had been in uniform? That thought made him smile, considering how close he’d been to joining up. His dad, brother, and two uncles were in the military. Jefferson still remembered his dad’s look of disappointment that the old man had tried so hard to hide when Jefferson had told him flatly that he had no intention of getting himself blown up or shot at.
Looking back at his rather rash decision and how his future had panned out, perhaps joining up would have been a better choice. “I should have dragged Sandy out here. She’d love this.” The parade had drawn quite a crowd, mostly women. The officer at the front looked so much like his old man it was unreal. Jefferson found himself waving and was a little surprised when the officer winked back at him.