“Dressed and ready, old mate,” he said. “Then tea downstairs.”
He went out and shut the door.
I pulled on the trackie bottoms and wrestled the shirt on over my head and my achy arms. I was lacing up my trainies when Raz came back.
“Ready, la’?”
“Yeah.”
“Come and meet the team.”
He took me down to the kitchen. The table was set for tea but there was no one sitting down yet. A pan of spaghetti was bubbling over on the hob. Raz turned the heat down. He stood by the sink and pointed out the window.
Rodney, Casho and Ayax were back. They’d got the mats out of the shed and laid them on the grass.
Casho and Ayax had grizzly black beards now. They looked leaner and fitter than ever. Rodney too. This hard look in his eye that wasn’t there before. He had a little goatee, the bell-end. He was ducking and weaving around.
They were wearing combat trousers and Nike and Adidas t-shirts. Trampling on the mats in chunky para boots. Running through some moves. But faster, smoother than before. Casho and Ayax were sparring, hurling wicked punches at each other’s faces and knees at their ribs and blocking them. Rodney was dancing round them with a wooden sword in his hand, swooping in with it like he was trying to split their heads open. They dodged and blocked him. He plucked something from his belt and went for Casho with it. The lad locked his eyes on Rodney’s and squared up to him, creeping round in a circle, looking for a chance to have him. Rodney flicked and spun the knife in his hand. Not wood this time. Real. A nasty pointy job with a jaggy edge.
Ayax stood and watched them. Rodney lunged. Casho did some footwork, stamped on Rodney’s thigh to get him down then chinned him and snatched the knife. He held it to Rodney’s throat down on the mat. This mad stare in his eye. He stood back off Rodney. Ayax pulled a pistol from his belt and held it to Rodney’s head and they all laughed. Casho gripped Rodney’s hand and pulled him up. They shook hands. They hugged.
I turned to Raz. He winked.
“They back from boarding school, la’. All that cricket, what. Stiffens a chap up!”
“And where’s Hanzi? He using a gun now an’ all?”
“He got his part to play.”
“Where?”
Raz didn’t answer. I looked out over the garden again. The two brothers were ramming the mats back on the stack in the shed. Rodney was pacing back up the garden. He stopped halfway and kneeled on the grass. Got up and put his palms together. Got down on his knees again.
I turned to Raz again.
“You’re joking?”
He winked. “Judge not. He’s a holy lad now, our Rodney,” he said. “Storing up riches in heaven!”
He spooned the steaming spaghetti out into a big bowl on the kitchen table.
The lads came back through the door one by one and wiped their feet on the mat. I nodded at them. They nodded back. They didn’t look at me the same as before. Something judgey in their eyes. I understood. They were holy hard men now. I was just some scally who didn’t know where he came from.
Raz handed Rodney a key so he could put the weapons back in the crate. The lads went and washed their hands in the upstairs bathroom. They all came back down and we sat round the table for dinner. Half of the big nasty family back together.
Raz served up the spag-bol.
“Dig in,” said Rodney, winking at me. “Last supper, innit.”
His voice had got weirder since I’d last seen him. West Indies with a bit of Scouse and Cockney sloshed in.
“How you feeling?” he said to me. “We thought you’d never get up.”
I didn’t answer. I glanced at Raz. No help. His nose was buried in his bowl.
Apples and pots of yoghurt for afters. Then cups of tea. Rodney sat down in the sitting room on a cushion, muttering prayers to himself.
“Come on, then,” I said to Raz. “What’s the plan?”
He wiped his lips on his shirt. He said nothing for five minutes. Then he looked at me, nodded and slurped the last of his tea down. He stood and led me into the hall. Rodney got up and followed.
Raz went to the cellar door and unlocked it. He switched on a light inside.
My head felt light. My chest throbbed. I didn’t crack up though. For once I wasn’t scared he might slot me. He’d just spent weeks nursing me.
There was a line of clothes hooks just inside the cellar door. This yellow overall hanging there. Me and Rodney stood back while Raz took it down and climbed into it. Legs and arms. Then from another hook, this white hood thing over his head and shoulders like some nun. Health mask over his gob. Then goggles. Last of all he snapped on these blue rubber gloves.
“You forgot your dildo,” I told him.
He tapped the goggles with his knuckles. The sides of his eyes wrinkled and the mask twitched. He was grinning.
No gimp suits for me and Rodney. Raz beckoned us on down the steps.
I followed with Rodney behind me.
I got to the bottom and looked around. The same shadowy light as last time. The torch was hanging from a hook in the ceiling at the far end. A bed on wheels lay under it.
Someone was lying there.
Raz grabbed the torch and turned the beam onto the bed.
He was laid out in a blue trackie with his eyes closed. He’d sprouted zits since I last saw him.
Raz’s voice came out muffled from under his mask.
“Brave Sir Hanzi, ladies and gents,” he said.
“He asleep?”
“He’s poorly.”
I stared at Hanzi. He was breathing heavily.
“What is it?”
“Fever.”
“What kind?”
“Bad kind.”
“Eh?”
“Tropicky kind,” Raz said.
“We should take him to... ”
Raz nodded and smirked. I shut up.
“That we will,” Raz said. “I take care of Hanzi. I take care of all you lads.”
I looked around. There was a table against the wall. Doctor’s gear laid out on it. One of them curved steel bowls. Needles lying in it.
He’d brought that fridge thing and plugged it in down there.
Raz turned to a table against the wall and fiddled with the stuff there.
Rodney was sitting cross-legged in a far corner. To my left was a work bench and more kit, spilling out of shopping bags. Clamp, drill, hammers, scissors. Screwdrivers and padlocks and packets of batteries. Bits of belts and straps hanging from nails on the wall there.
Raz saw me looking and walked over.
“Kit,” he said.
He unhooked a strap from the wall and dangled it from his hand. A bunch of fat padded belts and pockets. Webbing. He squeezed one of the pouches with his free hand.
“We ram this bad-lad with my naughty putty,” he said. “Stitch on charges. A deto. Phone it in. Snap, crackle, pop.”
Rodney went over to the alcove. He turned his back to Raz and threaded his arms through gaps in the webbing. He clipped it round his waist and chest and grinned at me.
“Not for me, thanks,” I said.
They both laughed. “As you were, la’,” Raz said. “Takes training to wear one of these.”
I looked at Rodney. “Go ’ead, then,” I said. “Do us a favour.”
He took it off again.
Raz turned to hang the webbing back on the wall. Rodney strode back over to his corner.
“That shit in the needles,” I said. “What’s that?”
“The magic potion, la’. Wee Lee nearly had off with the first lot. Good job you slotted him.”
I clenched my teeth. “What is it?”
“Gourmet shit. Chokes you with fever. Then you start splatting blood. Takes a while. Hanzi’s at the fever stage. That means he’s ready to pass it on.”
The leccy light bulb twinkled off his goggles.
I felt sick. I felt angry more. I’d done Hanzi once. I’d not let him get used again. Paterson wouldn’t
let this happen. I’d tell him. He could storm in this house tonight and have Raz and Rodney. All this would be enough to send him down. Guns and bombs, plus whatever Maya had got from hacking him.
Where was Maya, anyway?
Hanzi looked alright. Not a scratch on him. Quiet and still.
“I’ve given him sleepy dust to calm him,” Raz said. “But that fever ain’t going to sleep.”
I kept my voice steady.
“Hadn’t we better keep away?” I said.
Raz walked towards me.
“Get a good night’s sleep yourself, la’,” he said. “Big day tomorrow.”
Rodney stood up and all. The two of them looked at me.
I headed for the steps. Raz nodded at Rodney to follow me. I glanced back at him as I went up. He had a gun in his hand now. A big Smithie.
“Want me to hold your cock for you?” I said.
He looked down at the piece then up at me. “Don’t mind my little friend, Az.”
“Put it away, or it’s going up your arse.”
“Raz wants me to keep everything ship-shape.”
“That used to be my job.”
“I’m trained now. I been in the field.”
“Shagging sheep?”
He frowned and tried to stare me out. “Evil words, brother,” he said.
“I’m not your brother.”
“Too bad for you.”
“Put it away.”
He stared in my eyes and raised the gun, pointing it upwards. Shook his head. I looked beyond him. Raz had his back turned and was fiddling with something on the table. He turned to face me with a Klashni in his hands.
“Go to bed, la’,” he whispered.
“Please?”
He raised the rifle to his shoulder. Aiming it right at my head. He strode towards me.
I stood my ground. Held his gaze. When he got close, he switched the Klashni round. Swung the butt and smashed it across my face.
I went down, gasping, squirting from the nose.
“You grassy little jiz,” Raz said.
He squatted on his heels and cocked his head at me.
“They nicked my Russian sailor lad.”
“Course they did, you daft bastard. He was walking round a port with smuggled shit in his bag.”
“Then he gave it to you. You was the only one who knew about him. So you’re in it with her.”
Rodney hauled me up from behind. He held me with an arm round my neck, facing Raz.
“Do us, then!” I yelled. “What are you waiting for? You not got the bollocks?”
Raz closed in and poked his Klashni in my chest.
“Oh, I can’t do you now, la’,” he said. “We’re waiting for you to go live.”
“Eh?”
“For your fever to start.”
He turned and went to the table. Pulled a syringe from the bowl. Brought it over to me.
“Liberia’s finest,” he said. “Shaken, not stirred.”
“Bollocks. No one gets that here.”
“They do now. The Manc had off with some of it. So your dad’s come over on the jolly boat. He brought a load more.”
I clawed at Rodney’s arm, wriggling and flinching as Raz leaned in.
“Hush, baby boo. I won’t stick this in you,” he said. “I did that already. Three days ago. While you were schweeping.”
My arse, I told myself. He’s off his head. He’s blagging. I felt alright. Or not. I was still all rough with that hole in my chest. If a fever started, not sure how long it’d take me to spot it.
Raz pried my fingers away from Rodney’s arm. He yanked my left wrist down and pointed to the flexy bit inside the elbow. Tiny red hole there.
“Takes a few days for the fever start. Then you’re ready to pass it on. Any time now.”
He mimed pumping his thumb down on the needle. “Good night, schweet pwince.”
I snarled. Rodney prodded the muzzle of his gun in my cheek. I had blood dripping down from my nose over my lip. I spat it at Raz, flecking red dots on his goggles.
He grinned. He swabbed the goggles with the thumb of his glove and made like he was sucking it through the mask.
“The others have got it lurgy too,” he said. “Tomorrow they go walkabout.”
37
Rodney stuck the Smithie in my back and rammed me with it all the way up two flights of stairs. Kicked me up the arse as he shoved me back into his old bedroom and turned the key.
I rattled the door handle. Twat. I heard the floorboards creak outside on the landing as he sat down on guard.
No need to wait for the bug to start giving me the runs, eh. I was shitting myself already. Nothing but dreno keeping me standing. God knew how long that would last.
I breathed. Tried to calm myself down. Didn’t work. I was panicking.
I went to the sash window and heaved it open. Looked out over the garden, all dark green and quiet. I glanced up above my head. A few feet of brick then a gutter. Above it, the little flat bit at the foot of the attic roof. Too high to climb in my state. I’d fall and cripple myself.
It went quiet inside. Dark outside. Just this night light on the wall of the house. The air was warm and still.
I was lost. Finished. I sat slumped over the windowsill. Hours went by. Passing out and coming round again. Waiting for my strength to come back or my heart to stop beating. Waiting for my brain to shut down. It wouldn’t. Something kept tugging me back.
I didn’t know how much time had gone by. My eyes opened. I smelt something.
I hauled myself up and sat on the windowsill with my legs inside the room. Leaned out with my back to the garden and strained my neck back to try and see up onto the roof beyond the gutter.
Nothing. Any further and I’d be arse over tit and break my neck. I listened. Nothing.
That smell again.
I saw something coming from the roof above. A wisp of smoke,
I called out.
A face popped into view over the gutter.
She stuck the spliff in her gob. Narrowed her eyes and peered down at me as she tugged.
That white vest she always slept in.
“You off your pills?”
She nodded.
“I was coming for you,” I said.
Daft, that sounded. Even more so from a divvy locked in a bedroom, leaning out of a window. But you couldn’t call it a lie. I’d not stopped thinking about her. Just had a long to-do list.
She blew out a lungful with a sigh.
“Come for me?” she said. “What for?”
“I said I’d look after you.”
She bowed her head lower and muttered something.
“Can’t hear,” I said.
She flicked her hair back and looked at me, still leaning over the gutter. She was crying.
“Like you did my mum,” she hissed. “Like you did Lee!”
“We’ve got to get hold of Paterson,” I said. “Where’s my phone?”
She flicked the hot roach down, right into my eye. I nearly toppled backwards. Held onto the window frame just in time. The spliff fell into the garden, spilling sparks in the dusk.
I looked back up at her. She’d turned her head to one side. She’d heard something. I ducked back in my room and listened too. A noise out on the landing. Steps shuffling around.
When I leaned back out of the window, she was gone.
My body was aching. I shivered. My head felt light. I slapped myself in the face.
I managed to rip a leg off the bed and started trying to batter the door handle and lock to bits with it. Wasn’t happening. I stopped and grabbed the alarm clock by the bed. Ten to seven.
I heard Maya coming down the ladder from the attic. Rodney and Raz calling from below. I heard her steps cross the landing and stop.
A key turned in my bedroom door.
When I got out onto the landing it was empty. Footsteps clattered down in the hall and the front door slammed. I heard a noise from the other bedroom. This throaty g
roaning wail like a trapped dog.
Hanzi.
He was there on the bed. Awake now. His eyes met mine. They were all sunk in, His face was white.
He was sweating. Sobbing.
“Alright, lad,” I said. “You be alright now.” I’m a boss liar, me.
I went to the window. Dragged it wide open and stuck my head out.
Raz’s and Mossie’s cars were pulled up to the kerb by the garden gate. I made out shapes in the back of the Honda. Casho and Ayax. Mossie at the wheel. Rodney was on the pavement by the Astra. He was bending over, pushing someone else into the back of it. Maya, in a baggy black robe and headscarf.
She ducked into the car without looking back.
Rodney got in the driver’s seat. He shut the door and revved it up.
I pelted down the stairs three at a time. Hall, front door. Locked. I booted it. The frosted glass gave way in the frame, shattered and fell out in bits. The gaps weren’t big enough to climb through. I glimpsed the Honda peeling away from the kerb. The Astra with Rodney and Maya was gone.
I turned round, puffing and swearing. I was starting to sweat.
“Alright, Hanzi lad. You’re alright. I get help.”
I looked up in the attic room and the gutter for the Nokia but it was gone. Just Maya’s biscuit tin lying open. A bag with a last pinch of skunk. I pocketed it. I’d be needing some painkiller.
No other phone in the house. I’d have to run and find one. I legged back downstairs, calling out to Hanzi the whole time, telling him he’d be alright. Into the back room. Kitchen. I pulled open the door to the garden. Stepped out, peering round to the side gate.
It all went dark. A stink of paint shot up my nose.
A bag over my head.
Two sets of hands wrenched my arms behind me and hustled me along. I yelled inside the hood. Stay away, I tried to yell. Lurgy! A lot of good that did.
A car door opened. A hand shoved my head down and pushed me inside. Once I was sat, the hand rammed my head between my legs and held it there, fingers round my neck.
I shivered. The blood was pounding in my ears. I mumbled and wriggled in my seat and the bastard gripped my neck tighter. The car started. We ragged off.
Voices muttered.
We stopped and the car door opened. Hands dragged me out and hustled me along. Up steps. Doors banged open and they thrust me to my knees.
House of Lads Page 18