by Peter Butler
Dillon grinned at him cheekily. 'Probably 'cos I was the only one working in the whole place. You guys were behaving like a bunch of little kids in a classroom without a teacher.'
Jerry grinned back with just a hint of embarrassment. 'Was it that obvious?'
Dillon continued the role-reversal game; he raised his eyebrows and nodded, sagely.
'Let's just say it was nice to be able to relax a bit at work,' Jerry acceded. 'Larry's been really tense since this graffiti kid has been targeting his wall... and now his van has copped it also, it's sent him over the edge. He shut himself in his office all day and from what I saw when I went in to say goodbye, he'd managed to get himself plastered.'
'What's he going to do to stop the graffiti?'
'At this stage, apart from getting drunk, nothing. He's refusing to call the police - he's thinking about ways he can deal with it on his own. And with Larry, that could go in any direction. He's a smart guy, but as we both know he pretty much lives on a different planet to the rest of us'
Dillon's mom, Binnie came into the room, 'Ah! Dillon. I thought I heard your voice. I'm glad you're home, dinner is just about ready.' She shook her head gently and made a pained face as she reacquainted herself with Dillon's cut and bruised face, her motherly instincts would never accept damage to her little boy.
'Thanks mom, I have to go out straight after dinner. Max is going to help me with some stuff we did in computer science today that I just didn't get.' He made a gesture with his hand like an airplane going over his head.
'You know I don't like you riding around after dark, Dillon,' his father said.
'Gotta do it, dad. It's the only time Max has available.' He grinned at his parents.'He's right on the edge of hacking his way into the FED, and after he's done that and transferred a few million, he'll be gone. It's time sensitive - my only chance.' He laughed.
'By gone, you mean to jail? Or to Monte Carlo?' His mother asked.
'Exactly, mom,' he said, as he made his way out of the room, still laughing.
'I hope he's joking,' Binnie said to Jerry, with a confused look.
'Of course he is, sweetie. Teenagers that age can't do things like that.'
***
Larry woke slowly, with fuzziness swamping his brain, but mercifully a small amount of clarity was also there in the background. He opened his eyes to find his blurry world had tilted. He blinked rapidly, then realized his head was on its side and he was at his desk. The clock on the wall was reading 7:20, but, weirdly, the red illuminated numbers seemed to be moving in slow circles: he had dozed for about two hours. As he had slept quite a few pieces of his puzzle had fallen into place. He was pleased with himself; not only had he devised his plan to deal with Zac, he had also been able to convince himself that his all important schedule of after-work activities could be canceled to accommodate this new activity. Ridding himself of the graffiti vandal had become Larry's main priority in life.
He played back the overnight footage of Zac in the alley - his blood boiling when he saw the boy willfully desecrating his sign, but the anger subsided quite quickly when he took another sip of whiskey.
Larry stood up and waited for the room to settle, then made his way out to the shop floor. Dr... what's his face...Dr. Boo..? He shook his head in confusion ..Who? Larry momentarily gave up on the name search. He'd be... proud of me, he mused as he wandered erratically through the partially lit hardware store, bumping and bouncing off the display counters as he went. What'sss... that pill-pushers.. name? It seems'ta.. 'ave escap'd... me.
A couple of hours earlier Jerry had stuck his head in the door, and said, 'We're all heading off now, Boss. I'll lock-up.'
Larry had slowly looked up, and said, 'Wunda.. full idea. G'nite... you wise... fellow.' Larry's hand lifted off the desk and made what could have been a small wave.
Jerry had frowned at the sight of the nearly empty bottle of Johnnie Red sitting within arms reach of Larry, but said nothing as he gently closed the door.
As he had headed for the front door he wondered if he should go back and offer to drive Larry home. Clearly, he was plastered and Jerry had never seen him drunk in the entire time they had worked together. But then he remembered Binnie had asked him to stop by the market and pick-up some groceries on the way home.
Larry would have to deal with his own problems.
Jerry needn't have worried as Larry would not have accepted; he had business to attend to tonight and those plans - when he formed them - would almost certainly involve him driving somewhere.
Larry stumbled towards the wire-mesh enclosed cabinet and fumbled in his pocket for the key to open the cage. The key seemed to be too large for the hole in the padlock.
'Do keys... expand? Maybe the keyhole had... shrunk!' Larry muttered to himself as he tried another key, and then another and eventually, on the forth try, the lock popped open. Larry opened the cage and then realized he would need a bag to carry his equipment. He took a plastic bag from the nearest Cash-Point and placed his selected items carefully inside it. He locked the cage and made his way slowly through the store, occasionally adding extra items to his bag.
He stood in the dark alley and shook his head in disbelief once again at the garish mural that adorned the passenger side of his van. Even in the dim light it provoked an emotional response from within him which was accompanied with a small, sharp pain in his stomach.
'You're a talen..less... liddle... poo-prick,' he slurred through a pain contorted face to an imaginary Zac. Larry didn't like swearing, but surprisingly it felt good to talk like that right now. The pain quickly subsided when a small trumpeting noise bellowed from his pants, and he smiled to himself at the realization that there were now two Larry's - tonight he was Vigilante Larry, primed for action, able to make plans on the spot and even swear, if it was required. Dr Boo-be?... would loove... dis Larry. He didn't recognize it, but even his thoughts were coming out slurred.
Larry reversed out of the alley and tore off down the street in a puffy cloud of black exhaust smoke, wrestling with the van's steering wheel. He glanced in his rear-vision mirror and chuckled to himself at his brilliant creation of an invisibility shield. The van seemed to be handling badly as he needed to constantly bring it back to the correct side of the road. Maybe that vandal... had... tampered with the... steering?
He made a mental note to try and remember to check that at some stage.
Miraculously Larry managed to complete the drive to his destination without hitting anything or getting arrested. As he approached his target he slowed the van to walking speed. He had passed this home on Colony Forest Drive many times and marveled at its size. Larry cruised along looking for a place to enter the property, it occupied an entire suburban block and, he noted with dismay, had a concrete fence about eight-foot high surrounding it. He turned into Briapatch Crescent that formed the side boundary of the estate, and continued looking. Yet another turn brought him into Gifford Drive; the properties rear boundary where he found a set of solid wooden gates used by the gardeners and workmen. He stopped and tried to open the gates but they were locked and clearly beyond his climbing abilities. His next turn brought him into Marlington Street; a pleasant, wide roadway with grassy verges and substantial trees on both sides. Three executive-style homes occupied the opposite side of the road. The impenetrable concrete fence relentlessly protected the property from intrusion along here as well. Larry turned back onto Colony Forest Drive and studied the imposing ten-foot high wrought-iron main entry gates as he passed-by for a second time. He noticed the security camera that pointed at the well-lit area and included the smaller pedestrian gate beside the main ornate wrought-iron gates. All the entry points had a small keypad or card-reader to gain access.
There were no obvious ways in. For an intruder.
Larry made a face in the darkened cabin of his van, disappointed in his performance, as he realized he hadn't thought of that. No problemoo! Vigilante Larry! - would not be... defead..ed by... mere concrete
and iron. He pulled to a stop and searched for answers. He remembered seeing one particularly huge tree that grew inside the property that had a large branch reaching out over the wall, back on Marlington. Larry's metaphorical light-bulb popped-on above his head - he would jump up to the branch and climb along it and over the wall.
He pulled up near the overhanging branch and climbed cautiously out of his Transit van. There were no cameras watching this part of the property to record him jumping at the overhanging branch a few times before accepting that he wasn't gaining entrance that way. His head spun from the sudden exercise and as he walked back to the van, taking a slightly wobbly path, it began to throb. He massaged his temples for a moment before he opened the van's door and started to climb in... he was halfway in when the answer came to him.
Vigilante Larry would use the van to climb over the wall.
The van bumped and jerked as he steered up over the kerbside onto the grass verge and drew parallel to the wall. He parked about a foot away from it, directly under the branch he had, moments earlier, tried to grab hold of. He looked around and was pleased to see all the neighboring properties had similar tall, imposing front fences, making the discovery of his oddly parked van, less likely. He hoped - He did not have time to check if any of the neighbors might have cameras watching his antics.
Larry wound down his side window and then opened the door and half climbed out. He grabbed hold of the top of the door frame and stepped up onto the seat, then he pulled the door towards himself and placed his foot on the frame of the open side window. With a grunt and a heave or two he managed to get the top half of his body spread-eagled over the van's roof. He clawed and crawled his way further onto it until he was able to bring his leg all the way up, then he slid forward and was lying on his belly on the roof.
He giggled and grinned to himself at how he must look lying there, but his mood changed quickly when he realized he had forgotten to bring his bag with all his equipment. He slowly reversed his movements and found that climbing down was actually easier than climbing up.
'Thank you... Misder Issac Newdon... fer invending gravity,' he whispered, and chuckled admiringly, at his sense of humor.
A minute later Larry was back on the van's roof on his hands and knees and crawling towards the point where the branch rested on the top of the wall. He peered over the gap between the van and the wall and he estimated he could make it across.
Before he did anything else he listened in silence for a full thirty seconds. He was concerned that the owners might have guard dogs patrolling the grounds. Then he realized that any dog on the property would have heard him when he initially drove up beside the wall and would be barking insanely at him already. Unless he had become deaf, there was no such noise.
Larry leaned over the wall, using the branch for balance and dropped his bag of equipment to the ground inside the fence. It made an awful racket when it hit the ground and he hoped that nobody else was close enough to hear it. Since he had been at the property not one single car or person had come by. Larry was confident he had the place to himself - at least the part that was far enough away from the house.
It was time for the big move, he gathered up his courage and without any further thought he lunged over the gap between the van and the top of the wall. He hung there legs dangling and with great effort pulled himself onto the fat coping on the top of the brickwork, it was almost a foot thick and gave him plenty of room to balance. Larry eyed off the challenge that protruded in front of him. 'Ya can do it,' he muttered quietly. 'It'll be easy... Just like falling off a log,' he chuckled to himself. As a small boy Larry had spent a lot of time climbing trees with his buddies. He had been frequently referred to, back then, as the Baboon. He always assumed the name came from his skills amongst the branches, so he had proudly accepted it. That was many years ago, he hoped his baboon skills still existed.
He stood next to his chosen branch and noticed another, smaller branch protruding out from the trunk, roughly parallel to the one he would use, it was about face height for him and he was able to grab it. It was quite thin and clearly wouldn't support his weight, but just having it in his hand increased his self-confidence level dramatically. He carefully placed his right leg over the main branch and slowly sat, straddling it, balancing with his one free hand. His weight caused the branch to dip alarmingly like a see-saw, but it stopped when it came to rest on the top of the brickwork. He realized he was in luck as the fence would restrict the branch from moving around.
Ever so slowly he slid his way, inch-by-inch in small hops, across and down towards the main trunk. Larry crouched forward, keeping his balance point low, arms ready to wrap around the branch if he started to topple. His security twig was no longer any assistance so he released it and used that hand to grasp the other side of the thick branch for support. By the time he was halfway across the chasm his confidence was high and he increased the size of his hops. Easy, squeezy... A few moments later he gave a big smile when he realized he could touch the main tree trunk with his outstretched hand, from then on it was simple, just like climbing down a ladder, using the many small branches as foot and hand-holds.
Larry dropped the last few feet and stepped away from the tree, he surveyed what lay before him in the darkness. The grounds opened up once he had cleared the trees and shrubs that cleverly disguised the fact that there was a fence surrounding the property. A well manicured, sparsely lit grass area lay between him and a building that seemed to be too small to be the main house for a compound as large as this. His eyes lit up; Dillon had told him Zac lived in the pool-house which was detached from the main mansion. Larry avoided the direct route to this building, instead he hugged the shadows that the perimeter shrubbery provided. He made his way beside the building. Lights were on inside and he edged up to a window and peered in.
It was a bedroom; a male bedroom with ugly posters of ghouls and monsters on the deep purple walls, the covering on the bed was black and it was covered in images of large, bright red bloodstains. A large TV hung on the wall with bulky floor mounted speakers either side of the screen. Nobody was in the room and the entertainment equipment was turned off. If Larry had been a betting man he would have wagered that this was the vandal's bedroom. He marked it for special attention.
Larry moved on intending to make a circumnavigation of the building, he ignored the smaller windows that were darkened, he assumed they were bathrooms or unused bedrooms which, hopefully no one was sleeping in, and eventually came to a series of windows that had light spilling out from them. He carefully peeped between the gap in the fabric curtains and found himself looking into a large room that could only be described as a living room, except it had a small kitchen against the far wall with a large two-door refrigerator and a bench-top with five stools lined up in front of it. Numerous large sofas and lounges were scattered around the room, along with coffee tables and sideboards, and another, even larger TV mounted on one of the walls. Off to the right was another pair of slightly smaller TV's aligned side-by-side in front of a pair of, what appeared to Larry to be racing cars. They weren't actual racing cars because they had no wheels, but they did have steering wheels and proper racing seats and lots of advertising decals on the pretend bodywork.
They must be some type of... arcade game? Larry speculated as his eyes moved off to scan other areas.
He was relieved that no one was in the room; all the TV's were off and only a few overhead lights were on. Larry was pretty sure no one was inside - so far his plan was going well. His head was beginning to clear with all the adrenaline his body had produced over the last few minutes of high excitement, but with the clarity came a hint of anxiety and uncertainty. In his entire life Larry had never done anything as remotely risky as what he was planning to do now. He placed the bag on the ground and rubbed his head trying to clarify his thoughts but as it settled on the ground the contents shifted and rattled loudly.
He looked nervously through the window, his eyes searching every corner
and doorway, to see if anyone had come to investigate.
He counted to thirty. No one came - he had the place to himself.
Larry decided he should continue checking further beyond the building, he needed to be totally alone to do what he had planned. He soon came upon the large dimly lit pool area. He left the shadows and edged his way onto the slate-floor surrounding the huge area of dark blue water and counted nine lounges scattered around the edge of the beautiful pool. It was a lovely area that looked as if it had been lifted out of an international hotel and dropped into this suburban backyard. Once again Larry began to have second thoughts; this was the home of a seriously rich man... And his seriously sick kid. No, make that... seriously bad kid. The last realization was enough for Larry to decide that he would go through with it.
He took a deep breath and moved to the sliding door that was the main entrance to the house and as he did another sharp pain attacked his belly. Seconds later he passed a small relieving fart and once again the pain dissipated. The door was unlocked and slid silently open as he push. He stood in the threshold and held his breath, anxiety throbbing through him, waiting for the shouted challenge that never came. After a quick check inside every room to verify he was the only person there.
With mathematical precision and great attention to the most viable technique available, Vigilante Larry began Zac's punishment.
***
Zac was getting pissed-off, he had been waiting for the best part of an hour and the Retard's van was still parked in the dark alley indicating its owner was still inside the hardware store.
'The freak'n Retard never works late,' he growled to Wood in the darkness, 'something's wrong... Maybe he died of old age or had a heart-attack worrying about how he should take care of all his fabulous new artwork.' He smiled devilishly to himself in the darkness, the thought of creating havoc with consequences on that scale appealed to him on so many levels.