Gun Dog

by Peter Lancett

  I’m walking across a square of grey flagstones, a pedestrian area between two of the high-rises. Above me are walkways. To my right there is a row of boarded-up shops, covered in graffiti and protected behind strong rusty steel railings. Who the hell would want to run a business here? It seems unnaturally quiet and oppressive to me. Oppressive. That’s the word that keeps coming to me. Oppressive.

  There are few people about – just a couple of prematurely-aged girls standing next to a pram and a pushchair. These girls will be teenagers, but they look older and rougher and dirtier than girls should. They are fat and greasy and don’t care, and you can see their tattoos. Do I have to mention that they are smoking? I can’t help but think what dead end lives these girls must lead. Lives without hope. No dream of university in Brighton for them. All of a sudden I realise just how lucky I am.

  On my right there is a large gap between two buildings. Beyond this gap is the entrance to a multi-storey car park. No sane person would ever park a car in there. All the levels are dark, even in daylight, and I can see rusty burned-out wrecks on the ground floor level. This is what happens to cars that the joy-riders from this estate steal.

  ‘Oi, fuck off!’

  The words echo in this empty Concrete Canyon. I look up, trying to see who is doing the shouting. On a walkway five floors up, I see a malevolent face peering down and focusing on me. The little bastard can’t be more than ten years old. Already he is as territorial as a dog. One of the myriad feral scum that are whelped in this hell hole. The way that the grey concrete of the buildings seems to merge with the low grey clouds overhead makes this place feel more alien and oppressive than you can possibly imagine. Oppressive.

  Over to my left, a fair way away, I can see three boys. One of them is Sammy Williams. The other two I also recognise. They’d been outside the school yesterday afternoon, just down the road from the school gates. They’d been the ones supplying Sammy with whatever God forsaken substances he’d been moving onto the kids who’d been keen to take the samples.

  I don’t know if I’m reckless or stupid or both, but I stop and stand watching them for a while. They don’t notice me. One of the older boys turns quickly and the door of the flat behind him, covered in a sheet of rusty steel, opens smartly, just a little bit to allow him access, then just as quickly shuts behind him. Sammy and the other boy are just lounging about. I don’t even know if they’re talking. Then the steel covered door opens again and the boy who’d gone in comes out. Sammy hands something over so fast that it seems like sleight of hand. The boy hands over a plastic bag. Sammy examines it for a moment then slips it into the pocket of his grey polar-fleece jacket. I’m wondering if that’s why Big Roddy was killed here. Was that what he was doing here in the first place? Was Big Roddy getting involved in the distribution of some chemical crap or other when it all went sour on him? Is Sammy Williams now picking up where Big Roddy left off? Is this why Big Roddy had got himself the Ruger in the first place? My Ruger.

  I realise that I’ve been standing here just staring for longer than is wise, even with the Ruger in my pocket for protection. Fact is, in this place I’m guessing that there’s a lot more firepower available than I’m carrying. And, more to the point, there are the kind of scum here that wouldn’t hesitate to shoot, just on a whim. I’m cursing myself now for being stupid enough to come through here in the first place. The Ruger has given me a false sense of immortality. It comes as a shock to realise that I’m only too mortal after all.

  Sammy still has his back to me. But one of those older boys is looking past Sammy. He seems to be looking in my direction. Is he looking at me? I’m sure that he is. Oh fuck, he is, he’s looking at me. I’m scared, I’m like a rabbit in headlights on a country road and I’m frozen to the spot. The boy staring at me raises his arm very slowly and extends it in my direction. With his hand and fingers, he makes an imitation gun pointing right at me, and mimics firing a shot. Even from this distance I can tell that he’s not smiling and that his eyes are blank and soulless. Sammy turns his head to see what this boy has been pointing at, and notices me. He just shakes his head, like he’s saying how stupid I am just being here. I can’t help but agree, and this breaks the spell. I turn and carry on walking, hurrying to the road beyond this horrible place with its horrible memories – which have all come flooding back.

  Before I get to the road, I pass the place where Big Roddy bled to death. There’s still a dark stain on the concrete from his blood, and a few bunches of already decayed and dirty flowers, but I don’t stop to inspect any of it. I just want to get home.

  The rest of the way home, I didn’t feel like Travis Bickle at all. I stopped in at the video store and rented a copy of that movie, Taxi Driver, on DVD. I’ve watched it twice already, preferring that to going into school for the afternoon and having to make an excuse for the morning. I played it on my computer in my room.

  It’s tea time now, and I’m standing in front of my long dressing table mirror with my shirt off. My Ruger is held loose in my right hand. Very suddenly, I thrust out my arm and the Ruger is pointing at my image in the mirror. I’m nodding my head almost imperceptibly, mocking my reflection.

  ‘I’m faster than you, you scum. I saw you coming.’

  Yeah, I know how ridiculous this is; I’m acting out a scene from the movie, where Travis Bickle is standing in front of a mirror practising a quick-draw. Travis is wearing an army jacket and he has a spring-loaded mechanical device inside the sleeve that automatically delivers the gun into his hand quicker than you can see. I don’t have any of this, but I can point the Ruger and say the words. It’s all about attitude.

  ‘I’m standing here. You make your move.’

  The Ruger is pointing right into my face very suddenly. I’m fast. I really am. I drop my hand to my side. And now I’m looking right into my own eyes, and it’s like my reflection really is a different person.

  ‘You talkin’ to me?’

  Pause.

  ‘You talkin’ to me?’

  I look around, theatrically.

  ‘Then who the hell else are you talking to? You talkin’ to me? Well, I’m the only one here. Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?’

  I hear footsteps thumping up the stairs so I hastily hide the Ruger away. I know that it’s my brother Sean, and it’s no surprise that he just bursts into my room without knocking. I’m already sitting at the computer by then, pretending to read something on the screen.

  ‘Hey bro! You weren’t at school today.’

  I ignore him.

  ‘Couple of kids was talkin’. Sayin’ you was out last night carryin’ a wicked piece of tin. They say you turned a kid over.’

  I’m still ignoring him.

  ‘I said it couldn’t be you. Unless you’d clobbered the kid with a book or something.’

  I turn around at this and look him straight in the eye, pointing my fingers like they’re an imitation gun.

  ‘You talkin’ to me?’

  CHAPTER 15

  The centre of attention

  Friday morning and I’m walking to school. To be honest, I’m happy to be going back to some kind of normality. Yesterday was pretty freaky. Especially that business in front of my mirror.

  So it’s good to be walking through the school gates with Andy, who I’ve just caught up with, and seeing the usual clowning yelling sullen faces around and about as we pass on through.

  ‘So what happened to you yesterday?’

  ‘I didn’t feel well.’

  Andy is looking at me like already he doesn’t believe me. After all, I never usually miss a day.

  ‘Look, I could have come in for the afternoon, but in the end I just couldn’t be arsed, OK?’

  Andy smiles and nods.

  ‘I thought you’d sneaked off with Rebecca Wardle to be honest. Home alone for the day, and the chance of getting jiggy together…’

  ‘So what makes you think we didn’t?’

  Andy looks at me like he’s a lawye
r from a TV show about to play his trump card.

  ‘Because Rebecca was here yesterday with an armful of books, and looking for you.’

  ‘Well, I was at home with the runs. Happy now?’

  The books must have been the French stuff that I’d left at her place on Wednesday night. I hadn’t expected her to bring them in until today because we didn’t have French until today. Perhaps she brought them in as an excuse to see me. What? You never know. As if she needs an excuse after Wednesday night anyway. We’re going to go out somewhere this weekend. We’re going to decide what we’re doing after French class.

  ‘You should have texted me. I would have sent her round to wipe your arse.’

  Andy likes toilet humour.

  ‘You can be very funny at times. Pity this isn’t one of them.’

  It’s crappy banter, but it’s always good natured stuff between me and Andy.

  I’m becoming aware of some of the kids stopping and giving me long hard looks as we walk past. Not all of them, not by a long shot. But some of the younger kids, definitely.

  I’m remembering what Sean said, about the word going out. I don’t think I like that at all, the idea of the word going out about me having a gun and using it to go out on the rob. It’s not as if I’m like that old gangster, what was his name? John Dillinger. I’m wishing that I’d been more careful and less cocky and that I hadn’t used the gun at all. I don’t like being the centre of attention, and the last thing I want is to get a reputation as someone who carries a gun and likes to flash it about. That’s a quick way to ending up dead. I suddenly feel cold and pale and genuinely sick.

  ‘Hey, Stevie! Stevie, wait!’

  Andy and me both turn and it’s Rebecca and she’s hurrying after us. We wait for her to catch up.

  ‘Where were you yesterday? I was looking for you. I had your books.’

  She’s a little out of breath from hurrying to catch up with us as she hands my books to me. She’s looking so cute that I’ve forgotten all about being the centre of attention.

  ‘I wasn’t feeling well so I stayed home.’

  We’re walking along together now, but slowly. Rebecca has linked her arm through mine, and I have to say, it makes me feel good.

  ‘I thought you’d decided to avoid me.’

  She’s smiling when she says this, so I know she’s not serious.

  ‘You should have called. I had my mobile with me.’

  ‘I don’t even have your number yet.’

  That’s true. We haven’t swapped numbers.

  ‘You might have heard some interesting sounds if you had called.’

  Trust Andy to lower the tone.

  ‘Very funny.’

  Rebecca looks puzzled.

  ‘I had an upset stomach yesterday.’

  I feel that I have to explain, but I give Andy a sharp look just the same. Actually, I’m thinking that Rebecca might have heard some interesting sounds indeed. Like the automatic reload mechanism of a Ruger P95 echoing through the woods.

  And then the bell goes. We’re walking through the herd of kids, all heading for the main doors. Just another school workday then. But at least it’s Friday. I have plans to make with Rebecca. And Catherine is coming home tonight. Plenty of things to smile about.

  At last the school day is over and there’s a weekend to look forward to, and not much homework either. A cold mist has come down as I walk towards the school gates among the gangs of noisy kids. I’m looking out for Andy. And Rebecca, truth be told. They’ve got to pass through the gates, so I’ll wait for them there. Neither of them will have come out before me because I got out just before the bell today.

  Leaning against one of the brick pillars that support the school gates, I see Sammy Williams. He’s already seen me, and he’s looking right at me. He’s beckoning me over, so I have no choice. My hands are in my pockets and I’m trying to appear cool and unruffled as I approach him.

  ‘Hey, Sammy…’

  It’s another, younger kid, but Sammy doesn’t even look at him; just waves him away with a couple of sweeps of his hand. Before you know it, I’m standing there, right in front of him.

  ‘Saw you over at the Concrete Canyon yesterday.’

  I can’t see Sammy’s eyes – the peak of his Burberry cap is pulled way down – until he lifts his head slowly and he’s fixing me with them. They’re totally empty of any emotion.

  ‘Yeah. I was just taking a short cut home.’

  This is true; I was.

  Sammy nods slowly, like he’s pondering this.

  ‘Heck of a place to be taking a short cut. A lot of bad people over there at the Canyon. You know what happened to Roddy.’

  I look away because his eyes are unnerving.

  ‘Yeah. It was even on the telly. To be honest, I think that’s why I went that way. To see where it happened.’

  I’m hoping that this sounds plausible. Sammy nods his head slowly again.

  ‘Well the same thing could happen to you. You should bear that in mind.’

  ‘I will. It was bloody scary just being there.’

  There’s absolutely no way whatsoever that Sammy Williams gives a shit whether I live or die, so there’s more coming. And I have a good idea what this little talk is really about.

  ‘There’s been some talk going around.’

  This is it; this is what I’ve been expecting.

  ‘Word is that you were out the other night. Carrying a rod and threatening to smoke some kid while you were robbing him.’

  I must look as pale and frightened as I feel because Sammy shakes his head and smiles, almost laughs.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ve been telling people that it couldn’t have been you, that there’s been some mistake.’

  I can feel my legs starting to shake. Sammy puts a hand on my shoulder.

  ‘Thing is, we both know that it could have been you. That thing you were holding for Big Roddy, right? You are keeping it safe, right?’

  That thing is my Ruger P95. Christ, this moron doesn’t know the first thing about it, calling it a thing. I just nod though.

  ‘Yeah. It’s safe.’

  Sammy nods again, slowly, like he’s thinking something over.

  ‘Well, you’ve done a good job. I owe you one. Time that you handed it back, though, I think.’

  I almost blurt out that there’s no way, but sanity prevails. Just.

  ‘In the alleyway behind the shopping precinct tomorrow afternoon at about half past two. Bring it there. The thing is, Roddy had only ever borrowed it. And now the guys who own it are asking for it back. OK?’

  I’m nodding agreement. What else can I do? I know the shopping precinct. Sammy is talking about the shops where the kids confronted me the other night.

  ‘Like I say, I owe you one. I’ll score you some good blow tomorrow if you like. I won’t forget what you’ve done.’

  And he goes and pats me on the cheek, like he’s my dad or something, just as he turns to walk away. I feel sick right then, but I notice Andy and Rebecca standing over on the far side of the road, watching. I cross to join them.

  ‘What were you doing with him?’

  I can hear the disapproval in Rebecca’s voice, and I can’t blame her for it. The last thing she needs is a boyfriend mixed up with Sammy Williams and all of his trouble.

  ‘It’s nothing. He was just asking me if I’d seen Dwayne Riley. You know, that retard who hangs out with Sammy and that lot sometimes. I told him, I haven’t seen him in ages. It’s pushing it to think that freak will turn up at school.’

  I think that that’s a pretty good lie, and it seems to please Rebecca and Andy. We start walking towards home. I’ve snapped out of the shock of Sammy Williams wanting the Ruger back. I’m not even going to think about it.

  ‘You fancy coming around tonight to watch a DVD or something? Mum’s going out, so if you feel like it…’

  Catherine’s coming home tonight; but she won’t be here until late. And of course I’d love to spend
time with Rebecca. Who wouldn’t? I look over at Andy; we usually get together on Friday nights. Rebecca sees me looking.

  ‘You can come too, if you want…’

  It sounds a half-hearted invitation and only a half wit wouldn’t pick up on it.

  ‘Really? That would be fantastic. Do you want me to bring anything?’

  Rebecca is fighting to find the right thing to say but I know when Andy is joking and it’s all he can do to stop himself laughing right now. I send him a look and now he is laughing.

  ‘OK, OK! I wouldn’t want to spend a night watching you two playing twister together anyway.’

  Rebecca gives him a playful thump. I slip my hand into hers and she curls her fingers around mine as we walk. I’m almost not thinking about my Ruger at all.

  CHAPTER 16

  The grass is greener

  I wake up and I look at the clock sitting on my bedside table. It’s ten o’clock, and that’s very late for me. I can hear activity in the house below me. From Sean’s room next door, I can hear the sound of Saturday morning television, muted only by the wall and not by any consideration on Sean’s part.

  The reason I’ve slept in is easy enough to work out; I was very late getting to sleep. I mean, I’d been to Rebecca’s place until about ten, and you know, that was really cool. She’s more amazing than even I had thought and she knows so much about films and stuff. I was telling her about Taxi Driver – obviously without mentioning that I had a gun and sometimes fancied myself as Travis Bickle – and she knew the writer’s name, and that it starred Robert de Niro and that it was directed by Martin Scorcese. And I found out that she wants to go to university to study film making. How cool is that? I’m already wondering if we could work it out so that we go to the same university, even though I know that’s stupid. Anyway, it wasn’t all highbrow film talk; we did fool around a little too and that was great, except that I was constantly scared that her mum would just walk in on us. Rebecca wasn’t scared though.