Terror Kid

by Benjamin Zephaniah

  ‘We have to be careful, Lola. The more we do to help him, the more we get ourselves involved in this, and this is so serious. We could be getting ourselves into real trouble. We could be part of a terrorist plot.’

  ‘This is serious,’ said Lola. ‘But my little brother is no terrorist. He’s just got himself into a situation and he needs our help.’

  ‘You mean he needs your help.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ asked Lola. ‘You don’t want to help him?’

  Not wanting to upset Lola, Kim thought carefully before she spoke. ‘I’m saying he got himself into this mess, so he can get himself out of it. He might have to go to prison. You know that, don’t you? And if he does, I don’t want him to take me with him. That’s all I’m saying.’

  ‘Imagine you were in this situation. You’d want someone to help you.’

  ‘But I wouldn’t get myself in this situation.’

  ‘Come on, Kim. He’s fifteen. We all make mistakes.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kim. ‘But if we make mistakes, we should put them right. He should give himself up.’

  ‘That’s up to him, but whatever he does I have to stick by him,’ said Lola.

  ‘But I don’t,’ said Kim, looking straight ahead and unable to look at Lola.

  ‘And what does that mean?’ Lola shouted.

  ‘Lola, I’m sorry. You are my friend, but Rico is not my brother, he’s yours. It just means I have to think of the bigger picture. That’s all I’m saying.’

  The rest of the journey home was tense, with Kim staring out of the window as Lola drove, neither saying a word. When they arrived home Rico could sense that something was not right, but Lola put on a smile.

  ‘Hey, try these on. They looked great on the hangers.’

  They handed him the bags and went upstairs to their rooms, leaving him to get changed. Kim began to play loud music on her computer. It was unusually loud, and after a few minutes, as Lola was going to the bathroom, she heard talking coming from Kim’s room. It was Kim’s voice, but she was speaking quickly and quietly, trying not to be heard over the music. Lola put her ear to the door to hear what Kim was saying.

  ‘I can’t turn the music down,’ said Kim. ‘They might hear me. He’s here now, downstairs. The terrorist kid. Rico Federico. He stayed here last night. I know hoax calling is illegal, I know that, but I’m telling you the truth. Come quickly and you will find him here now.’

  Lola ran to her room. She opened a drawer where she kept her underwear and pushed her hand right to the back, grabbing a handful of banknotes that she had hidden there. She then went to another drawer where she kept earphones, batteries and other bits of gadgets, and she grabbed an old mobile phone connected to its charger. She stopped at Kim’s bedroom and heard Kim still on the phone, now giving out their address. Lola ran downstairs. Rico stood up, pretty pleased with the clothes he was now wearing.

  ‘Not bad,’ he said. But he saw the panic on Lola’s face, and heard it in her voice.

  ‘You’ve go to go, Rico,’ she said. ‘Look, here’s some money, and here’s a phone. Don’t phone home with it, and don’t phone me with it. I’ll call you. But you got to go. The police are on their way.’

  ‘How do you know?

  ‘There’s no time for that now. Just go. I’ll call you. Grab what you need and go.’

  Rico put his new baseball cap on, and on top of that he put up the hood of his new hoodie, then he stuffed some of his old clothes into one of the bags, with the money, phone, charger, toothbrush and comb, and he went. Just as he was going through the door Lola pulled him back. She hugged him tightly. ‘Take care.’

  ‘I’ll try my best. Thanks, Lola,’ said Rico. ‘I’ll sort it out.’

  Lola ran upstairs and went straight into Kim’s room. Kim was still on the phone.

  ‘How could you?’ Lola shouted. ‘How could you? You couldn’t even give us a bit more time to sort things out.’

  Kim shouted back. ‘This is my house, and I’m responsible for what goes on in here. I’m scared, Lola. I don’t want any of this.’

  The man on the phone could be heard calling out. ‘Hello? Hello? Are you still there? Hello?’

  ‘You’re evil!’ shouted Lola.

  ‘At least I don’t kill people,’ said Kim.

  Chapter 17

  Road Block

  The road was closed off. People were ordered to stay in their houses, and no one was allowed to enter the street. Armed police surrounded the house. Some officers were in the back garden, others were in the front, and some were in the neighbouring gardens. There was no escape route. The occupants of the house were ordered by loudhailer to come out, with their hands above their heads. The door opened slowly, the armed officers set their sights on it, and the two frightened young women came out. They held their arms up high. Lola looked straight ahead; Kim was crying, but she was able to speak.

  ‘Please don’t shoot us.’

  A voice spoke using a loudhailer. ‘Is there anyone else in the house?’

  ‘No,’ said Kim. Lola just shook her head.

  ‘Walk forwards,’ said the voice.

  They reached the pavement and were told to stop, then a group of armed police officers stormed the house. Lola’s car was searched and inside the house the police went from room to room looking in every corner, in every cupboard. As each room was checked an officer would shout ‘clear’. When they found no one in the house they all left. An officer shouted, ‘All clear.’

  Lola and Kim were told to stand still as a female officer approached them. After searching them she asked whose house it was.

  ‘Mine,’ said Kim.

  ‘And who called the police?

  ‘I did,’ said Kim.

  The officer went and spoke to the officer in charge of the operation and the armed police were told to down their weapons. Lola and Kim were taken inside and the road was reopened. Two male uniformed police officers stood outside the house, and one male and one female plain-clothes officer went inside to question Lola and Kim.

  Lola and Kim sat together on the couch as they were being questioned. The male officer sat in front of them, the female officer stood next to him. Kim and Lola were both honest, but they only answered the questions they were asked. They told the officers how Rico had turned up unexpectedly the night before, how they fed him, where he slept, and that he told them he didn’t do the bombing. When asked why they didn’t tell the police as soon as he arrived they explained that at first they didn’t even know about the bombing, but when they found out, many of their conversations were about when he should give himself up.

  The policeman warned them that if Rico were ever to show up again they should tell the police, and just before they left, the policewoman asked one final question.

  ‘It’s in your best interest to be completely honest. We understand that you didn’t know what was going on and you weren’t sure what to do. We also appreciate that it was you who called us, but this is now a terrorism and murder case, with national and possibly international implications, so we need to know. Do you know where he is?’

  Lola and Kim had disagreed over how to handle Rico’s arrival, they had even shown their disagreements in front of the police officers, but they were both telling the truth when they said they didn’t know where Rico was.

  Chapter 18

  A Friend in Need?

  Rico had £185.55. He had clean clothes on, dirty clothes in a bag, one mobile phone that he couldn’t use, and a mobile phone with a charger that he could. After leaving Kim’s house he just walked as far as he could; he had no idea where he was, he just wanted to get as far away from the house as possible. He found trying to move around in streets that he didn’t know, whilst trying not to be noticed by anyone, very difficult. Fortunately there were lots of teenage boys around who looked like him, but he still didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Speaking to someone wasn’t going to be easy; in this part of the West Midlands they would notice his accent. The Birming
ham accent wasn’t very different, but it was different enough to be noticed. It was getting late though, he was hungry, and he had to eat. As he wandered through some back streets he saw a fish and chip shop. He didn’t like fish and chips, but he was in no position to be choosy. He didn’t want to go into the shop himself for fear of being recognised, so when he saw a young boy texting on his phone he approached him.

  ‘You all right, mate?’

  ‘Yeah. You from round here?’ asked the boy.

  ‘Yeah, I’m from just over the road,’ Rico said, pointing. ‘But I got a bit of a problem.’

  ‘What?’ said the boy suspiciously.

  ‘I got banned for fighting in the fish shop last week; they won’t let me back in there. Could you get me a bag of fish and chips and a drink? I’ll buy you a bag of chips.’

  ‘Who were you fighting?’

  ‘A boy from Stourbridge. He thought he was hard, pushing me around, so I let him have it.’

  ‘Good. I don’t like boys from Stourbridge. Who won?’ asked the boy.

  ‘I did. Think I broke his nose. Anyway, they banned me. Can you do it for me?’ Rico said, not wanting to make the conversation drag on.

  ‘You’ll give me a bag of chips?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No,’ said the boy. ‘I’ll do it for a bag of fish and chips.’

  ‘OK,’ said Rico, not wanting to argue.

  ‘No,’ said the boy. ‘I’ll do it for a bag of fish and chips and a drink. Just like you’re having.’

  ‘That’s a lot,’ said Rico.

  ‘That’s my final offer,’ said the boy.

  ‘OK,’ said Rico. ‘You can have a bag of fish and chips, and a drink. Just like I’m having.’

  He gave him £10 and the boy was soon back, carrying two bags of fish and chips, two cans of drink, and the change. He handed Rico his food and drink and his money.

  ‘Any time you need chips I’ll get them for you. Where you going now?’

  ‘I’m going home. See you, maybe.’

  Rico began to walk away.

  ‘Hey,’ shouted the boy. ‘You’re going the wrong way.’

  Rico realised he was walking in the opposite direction from where he had said he lived. So he quickly thought of a reply.

  ‘I’m just walking round the block to eat my food before I go in.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘No,’ said Rico as he quickened his pace. ‘I like to eat alone.’

  It didn’t take him long to finish his meal, and then he was left with a major challenge. He had to find somewhere to sleep. He considered bus stations and cheap hostels, but he thought they would be too risky. Eventually he found a housing estate. He thought about sleeping behind a large group of rubbish bins, but it was a mess, and he could see by the unfinished meals there that he would probably have to share the space with hungry rats from the neighbourhood, feral cats or even a fox. He walked to the back of the estate. It was a dead end. He jumped up, grabbed the top of the wall and pulled himself up, just enough to see over, and although it was dark he could make out that it was an allotment. He lowered himself back down, rested for a couple of seconds and then jumped up again, this time pulling himself right up until he was on top of the wall, and then lowered himself down on the other side. He was at the back of the allotment and hardly needed to go anywhere before he came upon a row of sheds. The first few he tried were locked, but then he found one that was open. He searched around in the dark. Running his hands along the wall he came across rakes, hedge trimmers, spades and forks, and a watering can. Then he found a large woven bag used for garden waste, and he knew exactly what he was going to do with it. He made a bit of room for himself in the corner of the shed and sat down. With his back upright against the shed wall he took the bag and covered his legs.

  It was a long night. As Rico lay awake he started to imagine all types of spiders crawling over him. Although he could feel the tiny spider feet walking across his forehead, down his neck and in his ears, it was his mind playing tricks. When he was tired of thinking, tired of worrying and tired of the mind games, his head would drop, he would sleep for a short time, and then he would suddenly snap awake again. He did this time and time again until dawn, and he got very little sleep.

  The shed was still dark but Rico could see light trying to enter through cracks in the wooden panels and the space under the door. He opened the door just enough for him to see out, and to let enough light in. He had a good look around at where he had slept, and then at the tools and equipment, but none of it was of any use to him. He looked outside and saw a couple of early risers tending to their vegetables. They were in the distance, but he knew that whoever owned the shed he was in could come at any time, and he didn’t want to be there if they did. He put the bag that he had used to keep warm back where he found it, along with the other things that he had moved. He brushed himself off, hooded himself up, and was ready to go, although he had no idea where. Before he left he stood behind the door and turned on the mobile phone that Lola had given him. He waited awhile, but there were no messages. He stared at the phone trying to will a message to arrive, but none came. As he looked at the phone display saying NO MESSAGES, he felt desperately lonely. There was no one to turn to. He turned the phone off. He waited until the people in the allotments were looking the other way, and left. He retraced his footsteps and climbed back over the wall into the housing estate.

  The housing estate was just coming to life with people leaving for work and school. Rico walked through the estate and back onto the streets, but he was nervous. He knew that the longer he was on the run the more people would know about him, and the more people knew about him the more difficult it would be to hide. As he walked he made mental notes of the road names and his direction of travel, whilst at the same time trying to hold his head down. Then he saw a sign for Dartmouth Park; he followed it, and then more signs, until he reached the park. He wandered around the park for a while until he saw a lake. At various points around the lake people were preparing to do some fishing so Rico sat and watched them. He watched for an hour as more people came to feed the ducks and swans, and although none of them paid any attention to Rico he began to feel uneasy. He stood up and began to wander around again, and then he saw some toilets. He quickened his pace and went straight to them. After relieving himself he went to the sink where he brushed his teeth, and when his teeth were done he dropped his hood, took off his cap, and washed his hair using the hand soap. After he had washed and rinsed he put his head under the hand dryer to let the warm air dry his hair. He was feeling relieved, relaxed and refreshed – until he was disturbed.

  ‘I could think of easier ways of cooking your head if that’s what you really want.’

  Rico twisted round and looked up to see a man standing over him. He was dressed in overalls and carrying some gardening tools.

  ‘I fell over,’ said Rico. ‘Got some dirt in my hair so I washed it out.’

  ‘As long as you didn’t mess up one of my flower beds that’s all right,’ said the man with a grin.

  ‘No,’ said Rico. ‘It happened by the lake.’

  ‘Good job you didn’t fall in then. You would have needed a bigger hair dryer than that.’

  The man continued into the lavatory. Rico’s hair was now dry but he kept his head under the dryer until the man had left the lavatory altogether. As soon as he left Rico took his bag and went back into one of the cubicles. Rico was relieved that the man had not recognised him, but he began to wonder how long it could continue. When would his luck run out?

  Rico sat on the closed toilet seat, wondering what he should do next. He turned on the phone to see if there were any messages. There were none, so he quickly turned the phone off. In his mind he began to relive the moment he closed the police website down, and then the moment he saw the police outside his house. Then he recalled watching the news report on TV with Lola, when he realised just how much damage had been done. He shook his head, trying to shake
the pictures out of his mind. He was desperate to hear from Lola, and he couldn’t understand why she had not been in contact yet. Then he thought that maybe it was time to stop thinking about Lola; maybe she had given up on him. Maybe he should just start thinking about himself, and his own survival, alone.

  It was almost midday. Rico had seen enough of the toilet cubicle, and he was getting hungry. He waited until the lavatory was empty and left. His plan was to find a way of getting something to eat, even if it meant more fish and chips, but as he made his way out of the park he felt a thud in his lower back. It hit him so hard he dropped his bag. He thought of running but when he looked behind him all he saw on the ground was a football. He looked up and saw a young man running towards him. He looked beyond the man and saw another younger man waiting for the return of the ball so they could continue their kick around.

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ said the man. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rico quickly. ‘I’m OK.’

  ‘Really sorry, mate. We didn’t mean it, honestly.’

  ‘It’s no problem,’ said Rico nervously, kicking the ball back.

  The man picked up the ball, but after he picked it up he carried on running towards Rico, stopping right in front of him. The man was panting and out of breath.

  ‘I got a powerful kick, yeah, but I’m just not very good at getting it on target.’

  ‘It’s cool,’ insisted Rico. Having not wanted to draw attention to himself, this was exactly what was happening. People were looking his way, concerned about Rico after seeing how hard he had been hit.

  ‘It didn’t even hurt me,’ said Rico, stepping around the man and waving goodbye to him.

  ‘OK. See you,’ said the man, who then turned and ran back to his mate.

  Rico continued walking out of the park but just before he got to the gate the ball appeared again. This time it rolled past him. He looked behind him and saw the same man with his companion running towards him. Rico picked up the ball and kicked it back to them. The man caught the ball but they both continued running towards him. By the time they got to Rico they were both out of breath. The man with the ball was visibly excited, his friend less so.