by Gary Locke
“Ta-da!” said Jeremy to Clive, his arms stretched out wide and a huge, beaming grin on his face. “Here we are!”
“Paintballing?” Clive asked now feeling the rain falling steadily onto him; and his best suit.
“Absolutely!” said Jeremy.
“But we’ve never been paintballing..... not together anyway. In fact, I’m pretty sure that Gayle has never been at all!”
“All will become clear in time” said Jeremy, his impossibly large smile somehow becoming impossibly larger.
He walked around the side of the car and opened the door where Gayle was sitting.
“Madam” he said, offering his hand to her.
She reluctantly took it, after the short thought that if she had a meat clever to hand she would have happily chopped it off, and was helped out of the car by the smiling buffoon.
(She wasn’t sure if the desire to chop Jeremy’s hand off was the result of watching too much Game of Thrones or just having spent too much time with him.)
“What……?” she asked as she looked around, settling for a one word question because she couldn’t be bothered making the effort of adding the four extra words of “…are we doing here”.
“All will become clear in time.” Jeremy said, echoing himself from before. “I promise though, this is the one. You give me just a couple more hours and I’ll give you your love back!”
With that he began, almost skipping, towards what Clive could now see as a small cluster of prefab buildings just to the right of the car park, where there were also a handful of men, mostly wearing camouflage clothing.
“Follow me!” he added as Clive pictured that greasy burger once more in his mind.
Before he could follow Jeremy, though, Gayle had grabbed his arm.
“We’re not doing this are we?” she asked, squinting her eyes slightly as the rain fell a bit heavier. “We don’t have to do this. We can just make him drive us home?”
For a split second Clive couldn’t think beyond the potential, food-poisoning inducing burger that his mind had promised his rumbling tummy, until he saw the bigger picture.
“This could maybe be the last couple of hours of us doing anything together. The last couple of hours of us. We agreed we were going to do anything, didn’t we? Let’s not give up now!”
Damn it, thought Gayle.
This was so different to not wanting to do something like counselling, and yet how had she allowed Clive to make it somehow feel like it was pretty much the same thing? She reluctantly nodded her head. She had agreed to do anything no matter how foolish that seemed right now.
But paintballing?
Had she had any remote hint that it may be paintballing then there’s no way she would have made such a rash agreement. She could not think of anything, at all, that she would rather not do than paintballing. Well, maybe apart from get covered head to toe in bees. Why do people do that?
Clive grabbed her hand and gave her a little sympathetic smile.
“Come on” he said, and they both began to follow where Jeremy was headed.
Gayle let out a big sigh and cursed herself for not having an umbrella with her. Those twenty minutes spent using her BaByliss Volume Waves curling iron, the first time she’d ever had even semi-success with it, were going to be a complete waste of time; those carefully created curls were going to be a frizzy mop inside a couple of minutes.
Looking towards where they were headed Gayle could see several men hanging around the few small buildings and, in fairness, none of them had an umbrella. They were just standing around – in the rain. Then again, she accepted that these men, who come to the woods to play their war games, may just spoil the image they wanted to convey if they did happen to be holding an umbrella. This wasn’t an umbrella type of place. She had to accept that she was going to get wet and that just added to the overwhelming feeling that she was being led somewhere she didn’t really want to go.
Strangely, Clive felt something very similar. This feeling of taking Gayle’s hand and walking her towards somewhere she was, he realised, reluctant to go made him think about the first time he had taken her to see Sue. Obviously, back then, she was a nervous teenager who was going to meet her boyfriends “parent” for the very first time but this, somehow, felt very similar. As they followed Jeremy, Gayle’s mind no doubt focussing on the forthcoming ordeal – in the rain, Clive couldn’t stop his own mind travelling back to the first time he took her to meet Sue, all those years ago.
Chapter Forty Three: Never Let Her Go. (22 Years Ago.)
It was after Gayle had gone home that Clive remembered most – and yet he had somehow let those memories fade of late. He had just taken her home to meet Sue for the first time but the actual meeting felt like a blur of memories. He remembered some of the things that happened before they met. Like how Gayle had dressed rather conservatively for her – choosing to wear a rather plain, mid-length, grey dress that was completely different to the loud, vibrant colours that she had begun to wear. Even her big hair seemed..... smaller somehow. Her palms had been sweaty as she stalled at the front door for as long as possible, asking multiple questions about whether she looked alright and what Clive thought she should talk about.
During that first acquaintance, well things were more blurred. Clive remembered Gayle’s initial nervousness easing fairly quickly as her and Sue bonded over conversations that repeatedly revisited music. It was a meeting that he thought would last around half an hour that somehow saw three hours pass by in the blink of an eye as the two of them really hit it off, as the conversation meandered through all aspects of life, aspirations and, embarrassingly, love.
But it was after he had walked Gayle home that Clive remembered really clearly. When he returned back home, Sue looked different. Sometimes with her medication she could look really withdrawn; like somehow the real her was not there. There were many times that it seemed like she had been replaced by an imposter who was standing in for her. An imposter who was dealing with the situation she was in: the pain, the horror, the need to carry on and fight, even though the fight seemed so hard, and the will to fight was so hard to maintain. But, after meeting Gayle, Sue was definitely there, 100%, and she was beaming.
She always prided herself in “knowing about people” and had always encouraged Clive and made him believe that he was one of life’s “beautiful souls”. He remembered Sue’s first reaction to Gayle was that she was also “beautiful” with a “good, pure, heart” and that Clive had done well.
“She loves you, you know?” he remembered her saying as clear as day. “And I can see that you love her.”
Clive smiled as thoughts of Sue warmed him from head to toe. But it wasn’t just him thinking about his “mother” that was making him smile. It was him recalling Sue’s instinctive fondness for Gayle that was just as important. His eyes began to moisten as he recalled one of the last things that Sue ever told him about him and Gayle. And not because it was just more compliments about how nice she thought Gayle was, but because it included some advice she had left him with. He realised now that they were words of guidance that he had very nearly allowed to slip away.
He held tighter onto Gayle’s hand as they walked, following Jeremy, and told himself, again, why they were here and why, right now, he needed to fight more than ever. As he did, Sue’s words played out in his head just as clear as they had been on the day that she’d spoken them.
“Some people will tell you that you’re too young to know real love. But love doesn’t have any boundaries. Age, sex, religion, race..... none of those things can get in the way of real love. You’ve heard me talk about my Steve before haven’t you? What we had was real. There were other men after he’d died, quite a lot of other men, and I probably loved most of them to some degree; but nothing was ever like it was with Steve. What you and Gayle have - that is real love. You’ve done very well, son, – never let her down. And never let her go.”
Chapter Forty Four: Into The Arena.
&nbs
p; Gayle slipped her left arm into the big camouflage onesie thing she’d been given and zipped it up the front. As she did she caught a glimpse of herself in the large mirror on the far side wall of the stinky port-a-cabin and let out a big sigh. She had looked a million dollars earlier when she left the house wearing her sophisticated cream party frock, now she looked like one of the mothers she often saw dropping their kids off at Talbot Street school, round the corner from them, who appeared to have not been bothered doing anything with their hair and to still be wearing their nightwear. After slipping her boots back on she walked back out of the “changing hut” and across to where Clive, already changed into his adult action man gear, and Jeremy, were standing.
“Don’t you think you could have mentioned that we were going to be paintballing earlier when you picked us up?” she aimed towards Jeremy. “Maybe then we could have dressed a bit more appropriately?”
“What, and spoil the surprise?” said Jeremy with a grin. “Besides, you’ve got these overalls to wear haven’t you?”
“I’m not sure if you’ve ever worn overalls over a dress” said Gayle, leaving those words lingering a while because she thought she wouldn’t actually put it past Jeremy. “Because it’s not actually that comfortable. And if I knew what we were going to be doing I wouldn’t have worn these boots. They’ll get ruined if they get wet!”
“I think you’ll be fine.” Said Jeremy smiling. “It’s good you’re wearing those boots. Besides it’s pretty dry out there. And there’s not a lot of rain predicted for today.”
Gayle wondered what he meant about it being good that she was wearing her best boots. How could it possibly be good?
“Dry out there?” She asked, focussing on the other ridiculous part of his sentence. “We’ve had more rain than a Manchester test match!”
Gayle shook her head. Had she just made a cricket-themed joke? Yep, she’d chosen this moment, when the last thing she was feeling was amused, to make her first ever, and hopefully last ever, cricket-themed joke. What the hell was wrong with her? She looked over at Clive who was chuckling away seemingly amused, and impressed, by her subject choice of gag, which somehow made the whole thing even worse.
“David..... David..... DAVID?”
A shout from a man near one of the other buildings caught their attention and all three of them looked over to where it was coming from. Jeremy held his arm up and shouted back
“Over here! I’ll be right with you.”
He began walking towards this man, while looking back at Gayle and Clive and explaining to them why the man was calling him David and not Jeremy. It was the sort of explanation though that was not meant to be understood as he spoke in a low mumble of nonsense using words that had no significance to each other. Clive and Gayle hardly noticed though. They had got used to Jeremy’s strange ways and were not surprised or looking for an explanation at all.
“Does it hurt when you got shot?” Gayle asked Clive, with a concerned look on her face, once they were alone.
“Erm, I’d probably say it stings more than hurts.” Said Clive, in an ambiguous tone.
He felt happy that Gayle looked a little relieved by his response as he, in his mind, went into further detail. The sort of “sting” you may get from a deadly scorpion.
“You still think we need to go through with this?” was her next question.
Clive nodded slowly and gently stroked her on the arm, whilst actually thinking that if they did leave now then he may be able to go somewhere and get something to eat. How was it that there was a perfectly good looking “snack bar” hut here, that “wasn’t open today”? Unbelievable!
“Clive..... Gayle..... this way please!” Jeremy’s voice called.
Gayle attempted, unsuccessfully, to take a big gulp from her dry mouth as she and Clive responded to Jeremy’s (or David’s, or Jason’s or Henry’s or whoever the hell anyone else knows him by) call, by starting to walk towards him.
Ten minutes later, their camouflage onesie’s had been accompanied by face masks and helmets and they had just listened to a safety briefing, given by a man wearing camouflage trousers and a hi-vis jacket. (Come on mate, make your mind up!) Following his talk, he had made them sign a piece of paper that forfeited them to any compensation claim should they be hideously injured (or worse) by any unfortunate accident or, probably, gross negligence by the paintballing company. They had also met the other people who would be joining them for the imminent war of paint and pain, this last activity that, to both Gayle and Clive, seemed completely inappropriate for a “re-finding” love weekend.
The people joining them were six large men who were wearing a variety of uniforms from those who were completely covered in professional looking camouflage gear, including jackets that appeared to be made of leaves, to two guys who looked like they may just be about to go to a fancy dress party as the “Frog Brothers” from the Lost Boys. They were even wearing red head bands and had black make up smeared under their eyes. What all six men did have in common, though, was that they all looked intensely serious; all of them had cold eyes. They were cold-blooded killer wannabes who were looking for a legitimate, legal way of shooting people – in real life. (Before probably going home, once it got dark, and doing it all again, virtually, on Call of Duty.)
There was also actually a seventh guy who was holding a large camera. He had said that he was nursing an injury and wouldn’t be able to take part but would be taking pictures. He had smiled sadistically as he spoke; no doubt he took great pleasure in capturing the looks of fear and pain on people’s faces, as they were being shot at by any of the other cold-eyed assassins.
Gayle sussed him as a definite daddy long legs leg remover as a child straight away. She was fairly worried now though about how she seemed to be wanting to label every new person that she met as either a daddy long legs leg-remover or a non daddy long legs leg-remover. Damn you Phil Tipman and those newly remembered horrific, animal-maiming childhood memories. This was such a change to when Gayle was able to just instantly label new people as “nice” and “potentially new friend” or “not so nice” and “potentially someone to bitch about”.
It wasn’t long before the “rules” of the days paintballing had also been explained to everyone. There were to be two teams. The first one would be just Clive and Gayle and they would go by the name of “Team: Me and You”. The second team was basically everyone else and they were called “Team: The World.” The complete “game time” would be an hour and the objective was for Team: Me and You (Clive and Gayle) to make it across the game arena to the large flag pole and raise the red flag. If they could do this, without being shot more than five times, then they would be victorious. If either of them was shot five times or more they would have to leave the game arena, via the yellow exit gate, and it would be up to the other one to continue.
Team: The World had to defend their flag pole and make sure that neither Clive nor Gayle could raise the red flag. Each of their players though would have to leave the game arena immediately if they were shot just once. The PA system would let the gamers know how long was left in the game by giving out a “remaining game time” announcement every five minutes. It would also signal any “kills” by letting out one blast from the fog horn for a Team: The World “death” and two blasts for any Team: Me and You “deaths”.
As the “death” signals were demonstrated by the fog horn being blasted through the, very tinny, PA system Gayle couldn’t help but notice Clive, and one of the “Frog Brothers”, sniggering fairly loudly. She shook her head. True, the noise did sound uncannily like someone letting out a particularly raspy, loud fart that they’d probably tried to hold onto for too long, but it always amazed her how some people were overly amused by noises that sounded, in any way remotely, like flatulence. It was usually men who had never grown out of finding toilet and, especially, fart humour so hilarious as little boys.
Some last minute advice about the game arena, including good places to hide etc., and a sho
rt demonstration about how to use the paint guns (aim and shoot) came and went quickly and, before they knew it, Gayle and Clive had walked into the arena and were sitting in a wooden shack about 40 metres away from the flag pole that they had to reach to achieve victory. Their six opponents (the enemy) had initially headed towards the flag pole but had all now, worryingly, camouflaged into the background.
Clive looked at Gayle and couldn’t help but think that the goggles she was wearing were making her eyes appear somewhat magnified and that it made her look a little like Eddie the Eagle. He thought it was probably best not to tell her. It wouldn’t be the greatest compliment in the world and, given their current situation, they would both be best focussing on positive things. He slowly moved his head higher so that he could see out of the “window” hole at the front of the wooden shack. About ten metres in front of them to the left was another shack but, still disturbingly, as he looked around the flag pole area, and even further around the game arena in general, there was no sign of anyone else. Where were they all?
He sat back down and looked at Gayle in preparation for telling her that he thought they needed to try and make it to the next shack in front of them. Before he spoke, though, he couldn’t help but notice Gayle smirking at him.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing, really” said Gayle. “It’s just that your goggles make your eyes look funny. You look a bit like Benny Hill!”
She laughed a little.
“You look like Eddie the Eagle!” Clive snapped back at her instinctively.
They both looked solemnly at each other before bursting out laughing.
“What the hell are we doing?” laughed Gayle. “I thought we’d be eating a fancy meal by now but we’re crouched down in a dirty, old, wooden hut. You’ve not even been able to buy a greasy burger or anything.”
Clive stopped laughing and remembered that his stomach was still acting like it was doing somersaults on a trampoline. He hadn’t even mentioned to Gayle that he was hoping to buy a greasy burger; she had obviously read it in his eyes. You spend enough time with someone and they know you inside out.