"Give me the fucking bag," I repeated.
And blow me, didn’t blazer boy just hand the bag right back. I don’t know if it was the conviction with which I spoke, or the fact that Mickey had just about caught up with us.
"Wait there," I ordered. I was surprisingly good at this." Everything better still be in here".
The two men stood completely still as I rummaged through the bag. Due to its size it took me a while to go through it, but my cursory inspection of its contents indicated that everything was there; everything that was important anyway. As I turned on my heel, I saw Mickey behind me, looking like a man who had experienced every sort of emotion all at the same time.
"Jesus, thank God you’re alright. What the hell were you thinking of?" he panted. "You’re a feckin' idiot".
"It had her passport and everything in," I retorted, slightly bemused by his question. I think my actions had even surprised me a little, but the shock was making me act like I’d behaved in the most reasonable way in the world.
My reply didn’t satisfy Mickey, who was by that time doubled over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. I gave him a few moments to gather himself.
"Where do you learn to run like that?" he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders in response. I wasn’t really sure. I’d never been particularly sporty in school. I didn’t mind the cross country running in the summer months, but I wasn’t fast. If anything, I was more of an ambler than a runner.
"C’mon," I sighed, "I need beer. Take this, will you? It’s heavier than it looks." I handed the bag over to Mickey, who obediently slung it over his shoulder, and we made our way up the cobbled street towards the pub.
After a few yards, I slowed down. The magnitude of what I had done hit me and my head began to spin. Deep down I knew I had done something incredibly stupid and I really could have been hurt. I needed some time to gather my thoughts before heading into the bar to be told the same thing by a bunch of other people. It was bad enough Mickey having a go at me; I couldn’t face the embarrassment of everyone else doing it as well.
"Go on ahead, I’ll just be a minute, I just need to catch my breath, get some air. I’ll be back in a bit."
Mickey didn’t look impressed, but reluctantly carried on walking. He was definitely cross with me and I couldn’t really blame him. As I watched him turn the corner towards the bar, I enjoyed a few solitary moments to process all that had just happened. My delay in following him was a mistake.
Out of nowhere, a muscular arm hooked itself around my neck and dragged me sideways.
My boots scuffed and kicked at the cobbles as I was dragged up onto a high stone step and further back into what seemed to be an entrance to the building. I couldn’t see the door which I assumed was behind me, but through the shadows I caught a glimpse of something which could pass as a window, although it looked blacked out, perhaps with paint. Promotional posters for gigs and concerts were peeling from the walls enclosing me. I estimated that I was probably only a couple of feet back from the street, but in the pitch black you could have easily walked past and not seen me or anyone else who had been hiding there.
I tried to scream, but I couldn’t, the arm was curled so tightly around my throat it was making it impossible to breathe. Breathing through your nose isn’t easy when you’re in a blind panic, but I tried anyway.
Cold fingers were clamped over my cheek and the side of my mouth. I tried to move my jaw to at least get a bite of my attacker, but it was impossible. Why didn’t I go back with Mickey? Please Mickey, come back. Anyone, help me, please, please.
As we struggled in the confines of the doorway, I hoped that someone would come to my aid. Bars and nightclubs would be shutting their doors soon and that would surely mean someone would have to come by soon? All I had to do was stay alive long enough to be found. Surely Mickey would see me soon? But why would he? He would probably assume that I was totally unhinged by now and that I’d wandered off somewhere. My thoughts were racing as I struggled and my head was throbbing.
Then the searing pain ripped through my body. I couldn’t tell what was happening, but I knew it wasn’t good. First, there was an ice cold stabbing sensation in my neck. Then came the burning, a river of heat surging through my veins. I’d never felt anything like it before. Coherence was terminated the instant I felt my flesh tear open. Blood poured down my neck.
I wasn’t sure what weapon he could be using, but I could feel his nose resting on the side of my chin, his mouth manoeuvring itself around my neck, moving in a circular gnawing motion. Oh my God, I’m being bitten. Someone is actually biting me. What next? This cannot be happening? This can’t be real. What the fuck? I can’t die like this.
Then everything went black.
CHAPTER 5
When I opened my eyes, it was like that scene at the end of the Wizard of Oz, when Judy Garland wakes up to be comforted by her Auntie Em and with all her favourite faces sat around the bed. Yes, it was exactly like that. That is if you mean a bunch of practical strangers staring at me as I lay prostrate, crashed out on a wooden pub bench and caked in blood.
I took in my surroundings and saw that O’Malley’s was empty except for Tracy, Kieran, Maggie, Sean and Mickey. It took a while for my eyes to focus properly, but I had no problems distinguishing between the voices. The differing accents helped.
"There now, no need to fret, she’s grand, see?"
"Maggie, I still think we should take her to the hospital, that’s a nasty cut she’s got there and who knows what else under all that".
I guessed Mickey meant the blood. I couldn’t see it, but it felt like something had dried on my skin, it felt really tight along my neck and my temple. I assumed that was blood. The amount of pain I’d felt couldn’t have been caused without a little bloodshed.
"No Michael, she’ll be fine. It’ll heal quickly enough. I’ve seen worse."
"I don’t mean to be funny, but I’m getting my friend to the hospital where she can be properly checked out. Look at her, she’s a mess. Sophie, can you hear me? It’s okay, you’re fine. How do you feel?"
"What the hell happened?" This time it was me who spoke. I tried to sit up, but had such a head rush I settled for propping myself up on my elbows and forearms. I saw the dirt on my jeans and scuffs on my boots as my legs sprawled out in front of me. Tracy was right; I did look a mess.
"Do you remember anything?" Tracy asked, leaning over and placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"I think so, maybe, I don’t know," I muttered.
I moved my hand up to my neck and felt a large dressing stuck on with tape.
"I hurt my neck. I mean someone hurt my neck. I got jumped." Instinctively, I looked down to look for my bag and saw it on the floor beside me. "Did you get him? The guy who grabbed me? What happened?"
"It must have been those robbing bastards," Sean piped up, shaking. He looked younger than his years at the best of times, now he looked like a nervous schoolboy waiting for his exam results. "Did you see anything Mickey?"
"The important thing is that she’s safe now," he replied emotionless.
He must still be angry with me. All this is entirely my own fault and now, in addition to feeling like I’ve gone ten rounds with the heavyweight champion of the world, he hates me.
"That’s right boys," Maggie observed, pushing her way through them so she stood at my feet. "Looks like you were the victim of a nasty attack there. I swear to the sweet baby Jesus, I don’t understand what is wrong with the world. I’ve done a quick once over and tidied you up a bit, but from what I can see I’d say you’ve had a bump to the head and they’ve cut you with something, a bottle perhaps. We’re not sure what happened exactly, but we should probably call the police in the morning once you’ve got some rest. It’s not too bad though, I think we’ve managed to patch you up."
Kieran interrupted the exchange with a particularly well-timed cup of sweet tea. Maybe I was wrong about him; perhaps there was more to him than
a lothario. Mickey watched every movement I made. Was there a touch of guilt in his eyes? It wasn’t that I wanted him to feel that emotion that would be horrible, but I could see how he could feel that way. But the only person to blame was me for being so bloody stupid, and that man, that thing which attacked me.
"How long was I out?" I asked. I guessed I must have been unconscious; I had no recollection of getting back to the bar. Given that it was now empty I assumed that quite a period of time had elapsed, but I had no idea how much.
"We don’t know exactly", Sean piped up. "It seemed like you were gone for ages, but it's difficult to keep track of time in this place".
"I started to worry when we rang for last orders and you weren’t back," Mickey added. "That was maybe five - ten minutes after I got back. When you weren’t waiting for Tracy as we locked up, I knew something had to be wrong. I’m sorry Sophie; I should have come looking for you earlier. I’m such a dick."
"Do you want to see if we can get a taxi and get you back to the hotel?" Tracy interjected, patting my hand. I suspected that she partly agreed with Mickey being a dick because I would if I were her. But I wasn’t and this whole thing was so fucked up; blaming him was the last thing on my mind. If anyone was to blame, it was me for being so bloody reckless. I was definitely the dick, not Mickey.
Given my injuries, I didn’t know what to do for the best. I knew from my cursory inspection that I must have looked like crap, but I didn’t feel like anything was broken, I didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore and the searing pain that I’d felt in the dark alley had left me. Whatever had happened to me, the worst was probably over. Going to the hospital could wait and as for sleep, it didn’t seem like a realistic possibility.
I felt worn out in many ways, but the adrenaline continued pumping through my system. I had so many questions; sleep was the last thing on my mind. I’d have just tossed and turned for hours, which would be entirely counterproductive. Besides, Mickey and I needed to talk. I knew there was something he wasn’t telling me, and there were things I wanted to get off my chest too. Had I made it up? Had someone actually bitten me? What the hell was that about? Why would anyone do something like that? I needed answers and I had a strong suspicion from his shiftiness that he might have some.
There was also a part of me which wanted to assure everybody that I really was all right, including me. Dragging my pathetic body back to the hotel and into bed would definitely fall into the broad category of admitting defeat. I wasn’t used to allowing people to worry about me and I had no intention of indulging them now; nobody would sleep well that night until they were satisfied that I was in full, or nearly full, working order. Everyone’s nerves were shot except for Kieran, who seemed to be taking it all in his stride. I wondered if he was actually that nice a guy, or if this type of thing just happened to him all the time. He just sat looking on from his seat; drinking his tea and watching everyone unravel around him.
"Maybe in a bit," I ventured; "I wouldn’t mind just sitting here for a while. I think I’m a bit too wired to be cooped up in the room right now. I don’t even think I’d sleep anyway. Are you okay if I just stay here for a while?"
The question was directed partly at Tracy and partly to Maggie, whose establishment it was. I may have been in shock, but I wasn’t rude. For all I knew, she’d rather I bugger off and take the trouble I created with me.
Tracy nodded and I made another attempt to sit up, making more of a success this time around, after the ingestion of sugary tea. Maggie quietly nodded, not moving an inch from the position she’d assumed at my feet.
"If you want to head back to the hotel though," I added, "it really would be fine with me. I’m sure Kieran wouldn’t mind giving you a lift if he’s got a car, or sharing a taxi with you. If these guys are okay with it, I won't mind just sitting here for a bit, getting my act together, you know. I'll come back later when I feel a bit more together."
Kieran’s’ face lit up with the possibility of some private time with Tracy and, even if it was just the shock talking, I was coming to think that he may not be such a bad guy. Maggie assured Tracy that she would make sure I got home in one piece and that, in fact, I may be better off staying there anyway. She used to be a nurse in Ireland before she met her husband, so she’d keep a good eye on me and get me to the hospital if it was needed. Tracy frowned but couldn’t argue when Maggie noted that I probably had a concussion, so I should stay awake. It made more sense to do that where there would be more people to monitor me, than in a hotel room with just Tracy. Maggie maintained that she’d make sure I was okay and would get me back to the hotel safely once she was satisfied I was fit. She was clearly not to be argued with and besides, she was talking a lot of sense. Tracy eventually succumbed, after I had insisted she had to go home and get some sleep.
As Kieran packed up the last of his gig kit, Tracy hugged me and asked me if I was sure about her going.
"I’m fine, go. Honestly, I’m too wired to sleep and I’d only keep you up. Get some rest and I’ll be back later, is that okay? Maggie and the lads will take care of me. I won’t be long, I’m sure. I’ll be back in time for breakfast, and I’ve got my phone with me anyway." I assumed I did anyway, unless it had been stolen in the kerfuffle.
She raised an eyebrow at me, intending something in the fashion of innuendo, but quickly thought better of it. She just nodded her head and gently rubbed her hand on the top of my arm, adding that I should call her if I needed her, and at the very least text her when I knew I’d be on my way back. I kissed her on her cheek before she left, truly appreciative of her concern.
At the lovebirds’ departure, Sean made his own excuses and headed up to the flat above the bar. He looked worn out and I suspected he felt partially to blame for the evening’s events; after all if I hadn’t known about Tracy’s bag being stolen, I would have never taken off after the thieves and ended up being attacked.
Maggie, Mickey and I stayed downstairs in the bar for a little while longer. I sat quietly on the wooden bench, sipping on my tea, while she cashed up and Mickey cleaned down the bar surfaces, all the while both keeping a close eye on me. I rummaged through my small handbag to see if anything was stolen, but there was nothing missing as far as I could tell.
When the assortment of bar tasks was done, Maggie came over to check on me and ask how I was doing. She was relieved that I was getting a bit more colour to my cheeks and commented that I was looking surprisingly rosy. She remarked that when most people have a nasty shock or an injury, they feel disorientated, shaky, and cold – not me apparently. As I looked down at my clothes which were covered in blood, I was surprised I felt so good too. I had a throbbing headache, but given the situation, I felt like I’d got off lightly. It was unsettling.
"Let’s have another look at that gash on your neck then", Maggie said peeling back the dressing she’d applied when I was out sparked out. "It didn't look so bad once I'd washed you down a bit. I just popped some gauze on for you until we decided what to do. You are very a lucky young lady, an inch the other way and you could have bled out you know. As it is, you won’t even need stitches. I knew my old nursing training would come in handy one day."
I wasn’t reassured by her words; they didn’t match the look on her face or the colour that was draining from it, as she peered under the gauze.
"What’s the matter?" I anxiously asked.
No answer.
"Maggie, what is it? How bad is it?” I hate hospitals; please say I don’t need to go to hospital. We’re leaving on Monday; I’ll go to my doctor at home, get some antibiotics or something. Damn it Maggie, will you bloody answer me?
Maggie took a deep breath and pressed the adhesive tape holding the gauze on back into place. "Nothing pet, it’s healing nicely. You just leave that dressing on for a few days and I’m sure it’ll be completely back to normal. Don’t get it wet and don’t take it off. Trust me, it won’t even be there when you get home, and you can forget all about it."
I saw Mi
ckey out of the corner of my eye. He was looking on as he wiped down the bar with a towel and re-stacked the remaining glasses on the shelves between the optics.
Why was she so weird? I would have typically considered it a good thing that an injury heals quickly and, from the level of pain I’d sustained when I got it, it seemed pretty bloody miraculous. I wondered if it was the stress of the whole affair was the cause of her odd behaviour. She’d seemed so together earlier in the evening, but then again, it was all very surreal. She was allowed to be in shock and feel disorientated just as much as Mickey or I. I must have looked pretty beaten up when Mickey had brought me in – a lot of blood before she’d washed me down and dressed my wounds. There had to have been because I could feel remnants of it caked along my hairline.
When I felt fit enough, I declared that I needed to urinate and staggered to the bathroom, leaving Maggie to tidy away her first aid kit and Mickey to put the chairs atop the tables in the bar. In truth, it was because I was going to let curiosity get the better of me. I needed to see what that beast had done to me.
The tiny toilet at the back of the room had two small cubicles and one sink with a mirror over it. I studied myself in the reflective surface for a while. I was a mess. No wonder everyone was stressed. Maggie had done a good job of dressing the wound, it was neat and secure, but I couldn’t resist sliding a finger under the bandage to see how bad the cut was. As I leaned into the mirror, I lifted one corner of the tape and began separating the gauze from my skin. I didn’t have to reveal much to see the extent of the damage. It didn’t add up. There should have been more damage. I felt that searing pain, I felt the tearing of flesh, and I felt my warm blood turn cold as it met my skin and the evening air.
Where the hell is the cut, the bite mark? There have to be some puncture wounds surely?
Just as I was about to rip the bandage off my neck in one swift, confused, angry motion, I heard Maggie’s voice behind me. She stood in the doorway behind me.
Sophie Morgan (Book 1): Relative Strangers (A Modern Vampire Story) Page 5