THE SILENT STRIKER

by Pete Kalu

  Marcus ran out into the street. His head throbbed. The words of the technician repeated in his brain: ‘It will take you some time to adjust. It will take you some time to adjust.’ He cursed the technician.

  Where was he going? He didn’t know, he just ran. Cars blared and churned through the rain. A traffic light crossing bleeped. An air conditioning fan roared by the chip shop. Somewhere someone was going at a sheet of metal with a hammer. It was a mad cacophony. At least while he kept his hearing aids in; which he had to. The technician said. His mum said. His dad said. Everyone said. He felt he was no longer human. They had made him into an android, part human, part machine. Everything slammed or squeaked or hissed. Yet when he took the hearing aids out everything was frighteningly quiet. He found a park, sat down on a bench. He was panting. His breathing sounded to himself like a bear in a cave. He wanted to see Adele. He texted her. She said she was alone and gave him the house number and post code. He switched his phone’s GPS on and keyed in the post code. He knew which bus to catch, he’d seen her get on it enough times. He got off at the last stop then let his phone’s GPS system guide him.

  He walked along a curving, unlit road. It had huge houses to either side, each one set back behind trees or gates or tall railings. There were no street lights, but as he walked he triggered security lights everywhere along the road. They blinded him. He breathed in deep, determined not to give up.

  Finally he was at a tall white wooden gate which had the number thirty-eight on it. A huge white house loomed behind the gates. There was a bell in the brick pillar. Marcus pressed it. He didn’t hear it ring but Adele’s voice came from somewhere inside the pillar.

  ‘Hiya – come in!’

  From somewhere, a ghostly, synthetic voice whined ‘enter’. The gates whirred open. Small lights set in the ground lit up a gravel path to the house door. Marcus crunched up the path. Adele was waiting for him by the door.

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve come here.’

  ‘Is it okay?’

  ‘It’s just me. C’mon.’

  Adele hurried him inside and closed the door. In the hallway, everything was three times as big as it was in his own house and blinged to the max. Gold wallpaper. Chandelier. Lush cream carpet. And that was just the hallway. She led him through rooms into the kitchen. It was funny, he thought. For all the bling, her kettle was the same as theirs.

  ‘What have you been up to then?’ Adele quizzed. ‘You look upset.’

  ‘This and that,’ Marcus replied. He wondered how Adele could read him so well. He put his hands behind his head, kicked back on his chair and tried to look more chilled. ‘You’ve got a nice place here.’

  ‘I wish I could be more like you.’

  ‘What, like banned from doing the thing you love doing most?’

  ‘You’ve been really cool about it. You haven’t done anything stupid like burned down the school.’

  ‘I’m considering it.’

  There was a silence. Adele looked at him a long time.

  ‘Are you going to tell me then?’ she asked finally.

  ‘What?’

  ‘What’s troubling you?’

  Marcus sighed. ‘You not noticed anything?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look at my ears. Carefully.’

  Adele looked. She finally noticed. ‘What are those?’

  ‘Hearing aids. I have to wear hearing aids.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m scared I’ll get teased. Evan will get hold of it and it will be endless.’

  ‘Who’s Evan?’

  ‘The class clown. Him and Jamil.’

  ‘Don’t let a couple of fools spoil your life.’

  ‘You don’t get it. I don’t want to wear them.’

  ‘You’re wearing them now, aren’t you? And I couldn’t tell.’

  She kissed him roughly on the cheek as she took up his empty pasta plate. He hadn’t noticed she’d set any food in front of him, and didn’t remember eating it.

  ‘What was that for?’

  ‘You’ve come here, even though you know what my dad’s like.’

  Truth was, he’d forgotten about her dad. ‘You really don’t notice them?’ Marcus asked, fingering his earlobes.

  ‘No. Now let’s talk about me!’

  That was Adele all over. ‘How many rooms have you got in this house?’ he asked.

  ‘About sixteen. It’s all borrowed money. And we’ll have to move soon. The-Bank-Of-Dad is about to go belly up. Let’s go watch TV.’

  Adele led him into the lounge. It was like something out of the Titanic. It took two chandeliers to light it. There was a silver and glass coffee table as long as a small boat. A huge, silver mantelpiece, with a built in clock and fancy mirror stared back at him. There was a mega TV up on a wall. They sat together on the white leather sofa in the middle of the lounge watching rubbish. Marcus played with the hearing aid settings, making the TV sound go louder then quieter until he was comfortable with it.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve got my own volume control.’

  She laughed and shuffled closer to him. Marcus listened to his breathing steady itself. He felt Adele’s shoulder slide into his, and he brought his arm around her. She began arguing with the TV and threw a cushion at it, so he tickled her ribs to make her calm down. She fought him for a bit then gave up and settled into him even more. He loved the scent of her and her warmth in his arms. Marcus tried and tried but he couldn’t keep his eyelids open. He switched his hearing aids off.

  Suddenly there was shouting. ‘… heck going on? … come home… past midnight … half undressed … sight … sick.’ Marcus’s brain scrambled. Where was he? He roused himself through a fog of sleep.

  ‘Adele! What the hell ... you doing!’

  ‘Dad, he’s my boyfriend, get over it! And don’t come running your mouth to me … what time it is. Most times you stay out all night!’

  Marcus knew where he was now. At Adele’s. Adele had been wrapped up in his arms, her head on his chest. She was still there, pretty much. Her dad was towering above them. The clock in the mantelpiece said ten minutes past midnight. He switched his hearing aids back on.

  ‘Boyfriend? Is that true, Marcus?’ Mr Vialli asked him directly. His neck veins were popping. A big vein in the middle of his face looked like it was about to burst.

  ‘Yes,’ Marcus said defiantly to Mr Vialli. He shifted himself upright on the sofa.

  ‘Over my dead body is my daughter dating a black boy. Get out of here, go on, scram!’

  ‘Fuck you, you racist wanker!’ said Marcus, standing up and making Mr Vialli leap back.

  ‘Yeah Dad, throw a bit of casual racism into the mix, why not? You are so pig ignorant!’ Adele shouted, getting up herself.

  ‘I’m your dad, and I make the decisions round here!’ her dad shouted back.

  ‘Speak to the hand.’

  Marcus had had enough. ‘Leave it, Adele,’ he said.

  He brushed past Mr Vialli and Mr Vialli jumped back again as though Marcus had thrown a punch at him. Marcus wanted to deck him even though Mr Vialli was twice his size. Instead he fled the room. He went down a corridor. He passed a grandfather clock that went ‘dong!’ making him jump. This wasn’t the way. He corrected himself and went the other way. He found the front door, flung it open and turned, expecting Adele to be behind him. But there was only her father at a doorway, mouthing off at him. Marcus gave him the V sign, slammed the house door shut then ran up the driveway to the gate. The gravel crunched like bones grinding together. He couldn’t see a handle so he leapt for the top of the gate and dragged himself up then flung himself over. He heard something rip when he landed, but he didn’t feel any pain. He scrambled up and hurried along the road. Security lights fired at him from all sides as he ran.

  His mind was on fire. Where was he running to? His ears were ringing like he was trapped in a church bell tower and someone below was pulling all the bell ropes
, making him fall against the bells. Clang! Clang! Clang! Cars roared by like planes taking off.

  He saw a silent mass of dark water in a gap between houses. Adele had said she lived by a river. Marcus ran towards it. He slid down the river bank. Reeds broke like ball bearings cannoning into each other underfoot, raising a stink of swamp. Brambles snagged at him, their coils snapping like mouse traps as he broke through them.

  He halted at the river’s edge and looked down at the water. Even a river rat had a better life than him. He grabbed reeds, rocks and clumps of earth and threw them into the water. He heard the water make a gulping sound, swallowing them, leaving no trace.

  He tilted back his head to the sky and cursed God. ‘Fuck you, God!’ He screamed at the river. He slumped down with his head in his hands by the water’s edge. The pain he felt inside himself was unbearable. His school had betrayed him over the football. The only thing that had kept him going was football. And they had taken it away. Miss Podborsky had made sure of it. Then Leonard had made doubly sure. It was so unfair. And what did his parents do about it? Sweet F. A. His parents might as well be aliens for all the use they were to him. They never fought for him, just sailed along with their stupid lives. And what was Adele’s game back at her house? He’d expected her to follow him out but she’d deserted him for her racist dad right at the moment when he needed her most. Did she even like him as a person? Or was he simply a way to tease her brother and annoy her dad? To top it all, his ears were well and truly fucked. Why keep going?

  He looked at the river then up along the bank, tracing the trail of reeds he’d crushed sliding down. Did he want to go up there again, to deal with all that stuff, when he could dive into the water here, sink like the clumps of earth and be gone? He preferred down here. He could finish it. He hoped Podborsksy and Ozone felt bad if he did. There. See what you did. He hoped the guilt sat on them like a toad for the rest of their lives. Maybe it would do some good, stop them ruining some other kid’s life.

  In some bizarre way, he enjoyed the thought. In his mind, he wrote a letter to his parents.:

  Dear Mum and Dad,

  I’m sorry. I can’t take anymore. Give Leah my old Teddy under my bed. Darryl McCaulay (Horse) can have my ATC if he wants it. Don’t blame yourselves. It’s easier for everyone this way. Please don’t be sad.

  Marcus. XXXX

  That was his message. He took out his phone and typed it in.

  The river didn’t scare him. He heard it whispering by as its heavy waters shifted along. It was ironic, that he heard those waters now. His hearing aids had given him that, maybe they might give him other things. He looked at the river again. Did he really want to jump in? It would be cold and muddy.

  Whooooooooooosh.

  A shadow threw itself at him. It knocked him back into the reeds, bundled its way up, over and around him then almost knocked him into the river. It span round and bit into his trousers, tugging. A brute of a shadow.

  ‘Nero!’

  Nero growled, still tugging at Marcus in the direction of the upper river bank.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Marcus exclaimed. He clambered up the bank, Nero still clamped to his trousers, snarling.

  When he was fully up on the bank, Nero let go of him, but nudged him, then bounded up to the top. Nero looked down at Marcus, wagging his tail as if to say, ‘Come on, faster, you humans are so slow!’

  Marcus scrambled up through the reeds and brambles. He grabbed Nero’s head, kissed him and wiped the slobber from Nero’s mouth. Nero was panting badly. He pressed into Marcus again, wanting him to keep moving.

  ‘Alright, Nero, calm it down.’

  They left the river. The dog trotted on, turning every few steps to make sure Marcus was following. It wasn’t long before the streets became familiar.

  As he turned the corner into his street, he saw a police car parked outside their house. His mum was leaning on the garden wall under the streetlight. She saw him and came charging up. Marcus smiled as he heard his mum’s voice, even though she was raging. ‘What kind of disappearing act was that? Where have you been? Look at the state of you! I’ve been worried sick. You are in deep trouble.’

  His mum pulled up abruptly. There was a sound like a scene from Day of The Triffids.

  Marcus looked down. Nero was baring his teeth and growling. He hadn’t liked Marcus’s mum’s manner.

  ‘Easy, Nero, it’s only my mum,’ Marcus said.

  The snarling stopped but Nero’s ears stayed up, and his body still leaned forwards, alert, ready to spring.

  Marcus’s dad appeared out of the police car with a mobile phone stuck to his ear, shouting: ‘It’s fine, we’ve found him, tell everyone to stop looking!’ A woman he did not know came out of Marcus’s house carrying a wailing Leah and handed her to Marcus’s dad who stuck his thumb in Leah’s mouth to stop her crying. Meanwhile, word was spreading that he had been found and even though it was the middle of the night, cars began pulling up left, right and centre. Marcus watched, amazed at all the commotion. People were hugging him, perfect strangers were patting him on the back. Nero’s owner opened his door, looked across and whistled for his dog. The sound came sharp to Marcus’s ears this time. He wondered how much sharper Nero heard it. Nero lifted his head but didn’t move. Instead the dog looked at Marcus. ‘It’s okay, go on boy,’ said Marcus.

  Nero left Marcus’s side and, tail lowered, sloped over to Mr Winstanley’s house. Marcus felt sorry for the dog. He watched Nero till he was lost in the shadows of Mr Winstanley’s front garden.

  ‘Thanks, Mr Winstanley!’ Marcus’s mum called out.

  ‘Glad he’s good for something!’ Nero’s owner shouted back.

  Then his mum was all over Marcus. Telling him off and hugging him at the same time.

  Marcus glanced at his watch. It was 1.34 am. The whole street was awake. He felt foolish and embarrassed. Out of the crowd, Horse appeared. ‘Hey bro, where’ve you been?’ Horse clasped his shoulder. Leonard popped up alongside him, then Ira and Jamil. ‘We had a search party going,’ said Horse. ‘Was fun, man, best time in ages. Where were you?’

  Marcus’s mum pulled Marcus away from them. ‘Marcus, can we take this inside?’ She turned to everyone still outside and said: ‘You’ve all been great, but it’s all over now. Go and get some sleep, yeah? It’s a family matter now. Go home. Go to your beds!’

  His mum’s voice had a strained edge to it, a tone he’d never heard before. Marcus knew he was in deep trouble. He walked into the house and took off straight to his bedroom. He listened to the many voices downstairs. He also heard, Karen, the neighbour’s teenaged daughter, singing in her bedroom behind his own bedroom wall. The cars must have woken her up and she’d decided to join in the fun. She sang the same song again and again till her mum yelled. She told her mum to fuck off but went quiet. Sometimes Karen’s house was as crazy as his. Marcus shifted on his bed. The bed’s bolts needed tightening, it had a thousand squeaky joints. His own breathing was so loud he wondered if he was becoming asthmatic. Then he remembered, it was the hearing aids that were creating this whole new world of sound. He started playing with his breathing, trying out the different sounds he could make by breathing in different ways – through his mouth, through his noise, inhaling for a long time, exhaling in short bursts. It was like turned down beat boxing. He was getting his breathing ready for when the shouting would start, probably in the morning once his mum had recovered. He felt his phone vibrate. Adele.

  Where r u? U ok?

  Fine

  Cum 2 yr window, luk outside

  Marcus got off his bed and peeped out. He saw someone waving. It was Adele, partly hidden by the neighbour’s car. He was astonished. He could see her texting him madly.

  This is so romeo n juliet

  Yeh

  Ecpt yr on balcony not the girl – me

  Lol

  I luv u 2 bits. Just so u no.

  Marcus smiled and did a heart shape for her from his window. He texted her:


  Go now, b4 u get in trouble. Mum and Dad mad here. Yr Dad gona go nuts 2

  OK. I woz worried. Wantd to no u ok. Soz abt my dad agen

  How u get bak?

  Will get taxi. I pay him w dads credit card lol

  She waved a square at him that he guessed was her dad’s credit card. She texted him again.

  C ya x

  Marcus blew her a kiss from the window then watched her walk into the shadows.

  Adele. She was a whole new symphony on his life.

  It was well past midnight but Marcus could still hear lots of noises coming from downstairs. He clenched his fists for courage then went downstairs. Dad was there with a policeman. The policeman asked: ‘Are you okay, Marcus?’

  ‘Yeh.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll leave you lot to it,’ the policeman said, with a nod to his dad. The policeman’s radio was squawking something. He turned and left in a hurry.

  Marcus waited for his dad’s tirade. There was none. Instead, there were tears in his dad’s eyes as he spoke. ‘Marcus?’

  ‘Y … yes?’ Marcus stammered. Seconds later Marcus felt his dad’s arm’s pressing into his back and the musty familiar smell of his old jumper comforted him. His dad pinched his cheeks, ‘so you went for a little walk, did you?’ he said.

  ‘Yeh,’ said Marcus into his dad’s jumper.

  ‘Sometimes we need … be alone. I took walks alone at your age,’ Dad said.

  ‘Don’t encourage him,’ said his mum, who was now in the room as well, scowling. ‘Is anyone hungry?’ she said softly. Leah was sleeping in his mum’s arms.

  ‘Me,’ said Marcus. Automatically, he stretched out his arms. His mum placed Leah in them and went into the kitchen.

  It was bizarre. Moments later, even though it was the middle of the night, they were all sat at a table eating pancakes. For a minute there was silence. Then his mum blurted out, ‘How could you do this, Marcus? How could you? Where have you been?’

  Marcus told them the truth, that he had been to Adele’s and then down to the river, and he had thought about jumping in.

  ‘You scare me, Marcus,’ said his mum. ‘What about Leah? You’re her brother. You can’t leave Leah.’