Storms

by Chris Vick

  ‘Maybe you should come with us?’ Jake croaked. His mouth was dry.

  Goofy shook his head. ‘You don’t introduce new folk now. It would upset the balance, like. Set off alarm bells. I’ll keep the window open. Anything wrong, you shout, bloody loud, right?’

  Goofy got his phone out and looked at it.

  ‘If he’s not there, come straight back. I’ll wait five minutes. More than enough time.’ He pointed at Tasha. ‘You count the money. You, Jake, keep looking up the path, behind a tree, anywhere someone might be hiding. When you leave you are easy pickings, so move quick. Give me the keys, Tasha. I’ll get in the driving seat. Soon as I see you, I’ll start the engine. I’ll also let you know if anyone else turns up. Okay?’

  ‘Who put you in charge?’ said Tasha.

  ‘Done this before, have you?’ Goofy glared at her.

  ‘No, not like this.’

  ‘Exactly. Well, I have. Do like I say, and you’ll be fine.’

  Jake saw the fear in Tasha’s face. He could see his own in the wing mirror too. Of the three of them, Goofy was the only one who had a clue.

  ‘Are you paying him from your cut?’ Tasha said to Jake.

  ‘I ain’t doing this for cash,’ said Goofy, sounding angry. ‘I’m doing it to make sure he gets out of this in one piece, right? You too. Okay?’

  ‘Okay … I suppose,’ said Tasha.

  ‘All right, let’s do this,’ said Jake. They got out of the car. The rain had stopped. Jake didn’t feel the wind. He felt like he was in a bubble. He wasn’t even walking. He glided to the path, as if on a magic carpet or a conveyor belt. Dreamlike.

  Five minutes. That’s all, he thought. Five minutes and it would be done. Over. Forever.

  They walked twenty metres, round a corner, down the path. It was quiet here. Sheltered. They waited. Jake checked over the trees and bushes. He kept his ears alert for the Range Rover. Why wasn’t Bill already here? It was time now. Had to be.

  ‘We’ll wait a minute then go back to the car,’ he said.

  Then Bill was walking quickly towards them, down the path.

  In seconds he stood in front of them. He nodded. Jake nodded back.

  ‘Got the gear?’ said Bill.

  ‘Yes, got the money?’

  Bill reached into his jacket pocket and took out a thick envelope. Then another from his other pocket. Then one from the back of his jeans.

  Jake took the rucksack off his back. They swapped.

  Jake handed the envelopes to Tasha. Bill stood there, staring at Jake.

  ‘Aren’t you going to check it?’ said Jake. Bill just carried on staring at him. His eyes.

  Alert.

  A warning.

  ‘Whatever you do, son,’ said Bill. ‘Whatever happens now, don’t run. Or shout.’ His eyes flickered, over Jake’s shoulder. Jake spun round.

  A man was walking down the path behind them. A man with a gun in his hand.

  ‘Shit,’ said Tasha. Coming from the other end of the path was another man. He also had a gun, and he was moving fast. There was nowhere to run. And no time. The men had them sandwiched in seconds.

  One look at Bill’s face told Jake the truth. Bill wasn’t ripping them off. These guys – whoever they were – weren’t his friends.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Bill. ‘I didn’t have a choice. Do what they say and we’ll get out of this all right. He laid the rucksack on the ground, and put his arms up and his hands behind his head.

  The two men were in their twenties. One wore a Harrington jacket, the other a cheap leather. Both had cropped hair and hard faces.

  ‘You do the same as him,’ the man barked in a gruff Essex accent. He gestured with his gun. ‘You, girl, put the money down.’

  Tasha put the envelopes of cash on the ground.

  ‘Do what I say,’ he said. ‘Don’t speak.’

  Like Bill, Tasha and Jake put their hands up and behind their heads. Jake saw the guns had silencers on. There was a cold, hard truth in those guns. A truth that put a sick, stony feeling in his gut. There was no choice other than to do exactly what the men said.

  Jake had no doubt that the men would use the guns if they didn’t get their way.

  The one in the leather, the one doing the talking, put his gun up to Jake’s nose. His friend picked up the money and rucksack, and headed a few metres down the path.

  ‘Look at me,’ said the man, pushing the end of the silencer against Jake’s nostril. ‘Your mate in the car – how much time did he give you? Don’t lie.’ He pushed the end of the gun up, forcing Jake’s head back.

  ‘Five minutes.’

  The man took a step back. He waved his gun, slowly, pointing it at Bill, then Jake, then Tasha. He nodded to his friend. Jake heard clunking and rustling. The other man was checking the money and the drugs.

  ‘We’re taking the money and the coke.’ he said. ‘How much is there?’ he said to his mate.

  ‘This bag’s packed full. But it ain’t all of it. Not even half.’

  ‘You can’t do that,’ said Bill. ‘That’s my money.’

  The man cracked a sick smile. He snorted. ‘Maybe you’ll get it back when we get the rest. Where is it?’ he said to Jake.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Jake. He thought of the rest of what had been in the crate, which they’d already poured into the sea. And of the bags Goofy had chucked into the ocean.

  ‘Step forward, girl.’

  Tasha did as she was told.

  ‘The girl’s coming with us while you try and remember.’ He pointed the gun at Tasha’s head. She yelped with fear. ‘You get her back when we get our gear.’

  ‘No way,’ said Jake.

  ‘Don’t, Jake,’ said Bill.

  ‘Please,’ said Tasha. ‘No.’

  ‘Where’s the rest, then?’ The man nodded at his friend. The other man pointed his gun at Bill’s leg.

  ‘One kneecap, Bill. Fair punishment. Yeah?’

  ‘You got my money, didn’t you? You’re getting the gear,’ said Bill.

  The man’s smile dropped.

  ‘This isn’t just about the dosh, Bill. We need to make an example.’ He waved the gun in Bill’s face.

  ‘I’ll get you the rest,’ Jake blurted, desperate to buy time with a lie. Because how could he tell them the truth? ‘Just let us go, all right?’

  ‘I don’t think you understand,’ said the man. ‘I’m going to blow his kneecap off to teach you fucking idiots a lesson. And the girl is coming with us till we have what’s ours.’

  ‘All right, all right,’ said Bill. ‘But let them go, okay. Keep me – they’ll come back. I trust them. And don’t make them watch this. Do what you have to do if you have to. The kid will come back with the gear.’

  Jake couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How Bill was accepting all this. But what choice did he have?

  The man laughed, and shook his head. ‘I like how you’re trying to call the shots here, Bill. But you really don’t have a leg to stand on. Not for much longer, anyway. You see … I’d actually like them to watch. Then this guy will really, really believe he has to fetch us the rest of the gear. It’s a good lesson, Bill.’ He tapped his head. ‘Teach him not to do anything stupid.’

  ‘No, you don’t need to do that.’ Jake’s voice cracked with fear. If he just got them talking he could buy time. Where the hell was Goofy? He didn’t care about money or drugs. But he didn’t want Bill getting his knee shot off. Or Tasha being carted off.

  ‘Maybe I’ll reconsider,’ said the man. ‘Start talking.’

  ‘My mate’s got it in a lock-up. We’ll go straight there, come back with the rest. Right now. We can meet you here, or anywhere you like. No police. I’ve got as much to lose as you have.’ Jake’s mind raced. He was buying time. Maybe convincing them not to shoot Bill. But what then? The police. There was no other choice.

  Jake needed more time. He needed Goofy.

  The man laughed. Smiled again. Not worried any more. It looked as if he’d reconsid
ered, like his threat was just that. A threat. A way to scare them.

  Then …

  ‘Anyway, just so you get the message.’ He nodded. The other man took a step forward and pointed his gun down towards Bill’s kneecap. Bill looked at the sky, gritting his teeth.

  ‘Not with them watching, please,’ he said.

  ‘Shit,’ said Jake. ‘Oh, shit.’

  No more choices now. No more time. No more words.

  This was happening.

  Jake looked. Then closed his eyes.

  ‘Lay off him!’ The shout filled the air.

  Jake opened his eyes. It was Goofy, running, waving his phone in the air. ‘The police will be here in a minute. I’ve got them on the phone right now. I’m filming you.’ He pointed the camera at them like a weapon.

  The second man moved quickly, backing down the path, carrying the money and rucksack, turning his face away. The first man stayed rooted, his eyes filling with panic.

  ‘Smithy, let’s go!’ said the second man. Smithy looked at Jake, hard. Put a finger to his lips. He shielded his face with one hand, but pointed the gun – at Jake.

  Thoot. A dull sound.

  Both men ran.

  Jake turned to see Goofy. There was horror in his face and his mouth was moving, shouting something. But Jake couldn’t hear.

  Tasha was staring down at Jake’s leg. Bill’s arms reached out to stop him.

  Falling.

  Because …

  Jake looked down. The ground was shooting towards him. He saw the blood.

  Hannah

  SHE SAT BY the hospital bed, watching him sleep.

  The operation had taken an hour or more.

  Plenty of time for the call to run through her head on constant replay.

  *

  She was in the car with Phoebe, looking for Jake. Her phone rang.

  ‘It’s me, Goofy.’

  ‘Have you seen Jake? I need to talk to him.’

  ‘It’s him I’m calling about. Hannah, Jake’s in hospital.’

  ‘What! Why?’

  ‘He got hurt. He’ll be all right, but right now his leg is hurt bad.’

  ‘Phoebe, head for the hospital. Now. Goofy, how is he hurt. How?’

  ‘His leg. Look … he’s going to have to talk to you. He’s been in trouble. He’s been a fool. We both have. We’ve done foolish things. But it’s over now.’

  ‘What trouble?’

  ‘I can’t say.’

  ‘Goofy, tell me.’

  ‘Not my place. Jake has to tell you.’

  ‘Goofy—’ The line cut dead.

  *

  They raced, crazy fast, to the hospital.

  Waiting. And waiting.

  Goofy wasn’t answering his phone.

  April arrived just as the doctor came to talk to Hannah, in the corridor outside Jake’s room.

  She checked his face for signs and clues.

  She stood there, listening.

  ‘He’s going to be okay,’ said the doctor. ‘He’s lost a lot of blood, but he’ll be fine. Before he went under, he said he’d fallen on a spike. Is that true?’

  Hannah looked at April’s face, seeing the fear there. She was looking at Hannah, for answers that she didn’t have.

  ‘I … I don’t know,’ Hannah said. ‘I wasn’t there. Yes, I … maybe.’

  ‘Hmm,’ the doctor’s eyes screwed up, examining her. ‘Well, whatever it was went straight through the outer side of his thigh. He’s lucky. No arteries punctured. It missed the bone. If it had been an inch or two lower and further in, it would have shattered his knee.’

  ‘Will he …’ April swallowed. ‘Will he be okay?’

  ‘Yes. Like I said, he’ll be fine. Before he lost consciousness, he asked if he’d still be able to surf.’ The doctor smiled. ‘Well, not for a while. He’ll be on a crutch for a day or two. Nothing’s broken, but we need to keep the pressure off while it heals. He’ll have quite a scar. This, er, spike.’ He paused. ‘Or … whatever it was. It took out a chunk of flesh, about this big.’ The doctor looked meaningfully at Hannah, holding up his hand and showing a gap between his finger and thumb, a few centimetres long. ‘And half an inch deep. He lost a lot of blood. A lot.’

  April had to leave, to pick up Hattie. Phoebe left too, because Hannah insisted. She wanted to be alone with Jake when he woke.

  They let her into the room he was in. She sat by the bed. Watching him. Waiting.

  *

  First of all, his eyes opened, his long lashes stirring on his cheeks. His strong brown hands twitched.

  He looked at her. And smiled.

  Don’t, she thought. Don’t try to smile your way out of this one.

  She laid her hand in his when he reached out to her. He squeezed, but she didn’t squeeze back.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘Been better, but yeah … My leg …’ He looked down at the heavily wrapped bandages.

  ‘Don’t worry. Doc says you’ll still be able to surf,’ she tried to joke, but her words sounded flat. ‘What happened to your leg?’

  He smiled at her. In pain, but making himself smile. Rubbing his thumb on the back of her hand. She dropped his hand and put her own in her lap.

  ‘What happened, Jake? Goofy said you’ve been in trouble.’

  ‘What’s he told you?’ said Jake.

  ‘Just tell me.’

  He looked at her with his big brown eyes full of shame and apologies.

  ‘I never meant for you to … I never meant to … I’m sorry, Hannah.’

  He reached out his hand again. It hung in the air. She looked at it, but didn’t touch it. The hand was familiar, but it belonged to a stranger.

  ‘I went to the house,’ she said.

  ‘The house?’

  ‘On the Cape. The house of the old woman who died. The people there have never met you.’ She felt the slow, gentle warmth of a tear sliding down her cheek. She wiped it away, sniffed and swallowed.

  ‘Where’s Goofy?’ asked Jake, looking around her at the door.

  ‘Your mate hasn’t told me anything.’ She spat the words out. ‘Just that you’re in trouble. Involved in something bad. Jake? The truth. Please?’ She paused, her voice slowly finding its strength. ‘The truth.’

  He sighed, pulled himself up on the pillows and winced.

  He used the moment, to get kind-of comfortable, looking at her, then at the bed, then back to her.

  ‘What did Goofy get you into?’ she said, urging, needing him to tell her.

  She waited.

  But he said nothing.

  She stood up as though to leave, staring and disbelieving as tears filled her eyes.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ he said, panicking. She sat back down.

  ‘It’s nothing to do with Goofy. I got him involved. This is me, Hannah. I messed up.’

  ‘Involved in what?’

  He coughed and looked away, at the window. His voice cracked as he spoke. ‘It was a drug deal. To get money. A lot of it. For the rescue, for Hawaii … It went tits up, and I got shot.’

  She gasped, put a hand to her mouth.

  ‘Oh my God, Jake. Who shot you?’

  ‘Someone called Smithy, if you must know. It’s all right. I’m going to be okay.’

  She felt sick. Scared.

  She tried to talk, as slowly and deliberately as she could, but her voice wobbled with hurt and anger.

  ‘You tried to help me by doing a drugs deal. Jake?’

  ‘It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t planned. Not really.’

  ‘Don’t treat me like an idiot, Jake. How can you not plan a drug deal? What kind of drugs?’

  ‘Cocaine.’

  ‘What?’ The word sank slowly into her mind. Had he said ‘cocaine’? Was this Jake in front of her, speaking these words? Or a total stranger?

  ‘That stuff is evil, Jake. How the hell did you get involved in that?’

  ‘I … found the stuff in a cove … well, er, on a beach act
ually. Washed up by the storm.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘A wrecked yacht … boat.’

  ‘What boat?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he blustered. ‘… I’m just guessing it was a boat. I found a crate. Look, I didn’t plan this – it just happened. I knew someone who could help get rid of it. I thought I could make quick money. To help you. Mum too. We got involved with some bad characters. We didn’t manage to do the deal. It all went wrong. The bad characters have the stuff now.’ He sighed. His head bowed down. Shame came off him in waves. Hannah tried to understand, to feel some pity. But she felt cold and hard. She felt sick.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘Jake, you could have got yourself killed. Thrown in prison. What were you thinking? These bad characters, do you know them? This “Smithy” who shot you.’

  ‘Not him but, oddly, I know who the drugs belonged to and who has them now …’ Jake stopped, bit his lip, like he’d said too much.

  ‘You have to tell the police who it is.’ She was speaking simple logic. But she felt disbelief, seeing his face. He wasn’t taking this in. ‘You have to. They shot you.’

  ‘No, I can’t.’

  ‘You idiot. You stupid, stupid idiot.’ She put her face in her hands. The tears flowed through her fingers.

  ‘I want to make this good,’ he said.

  ‘Make it good? I’ve got to find over ten thousand pounds now, Jake. And that’s your fault. And you’ve been involved in something terrible and wrong. If you know who has this stuff, you have to tell the police everything you know. Don’t you?’

  She lifted her head and stared straight at him, looking for some reaction, some sign that what she was saying was going in, making sense.

  The storm was inside her now. Dragged out of the sky and the sea and raging inside. Disbelief. Anger. At him, for being so stupid. For putting himself in danger too. That thought was stronger than anything. She might have lost him. And it would have been his fault. She hated him, for making her feel this way. And for wanting to stand up and walk away, without being able to.

  ‘You might never have walked again, Jake. You could have died.’

  Simple facts.

  ‘I want to make this right,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t know if you can.’

  She stood up.