by Gary Locke
A huge smile exploded onto her face as she again looked through the glaze of watery eyes. This time though it wasn’t through fear or pain but because of pride. Her Clive had got one!
As she smiled, she looked down at her boots, and in particular the mud splashes that gave them a strange, almost Inkblot test look about them. Instead of employing some business-like, psychology bullshit about what the shapes of the splashes could represent though, Gayle just accepted that she looked like someone who’d had the bottom of their legs swapped for those of a wet cow.
As well as feeling more and more tight and painful, (although nothing like as bad as her arm that was still intensely throbbing) she also realised that her boots would need to be given a good clean when they got back home.
Clive was in charge of cleaning shoes. He would take multiple pairs out into the back garden and somehow take forever with them; although they did always come back looking sparkling and new. She would have to ask him to clean the boots later because she had planned to wear them later for her date with Lee.
Oh shit!
Her date with Lee.
She hadn’t even thought about that for at least twenty four hours. Should she still go on it? She wasn’t even sure if it felt right to be going on it after what she and Clive had been doing over the weekend. Or, at least, what they’d been trying to do. Then again, could a day and a half of silly events make up for years of letting a relationship crumble and die? Had she not got used to the fact, and accepted, that this time had been coming for a long, long time? Now that it was here didn’t she need to embrace it, and get on with a new start no matter how scary it seemed?
Why was she asking herself these same questions again?
PAARRRRRRP
The PA system playing out more tinny flatulence pulled Gayle’s mind back into the shack. Wow, that was quick. Clive must have bumped into someone else really quickly. But what had happened? Would there be another foghorn blast to follow? She held her breath and waited. As she did she could feel her heart almost beating out of her chest. She waited and waited and waited and waited and..... there wasn’t any other sound; just silence. The silence that meant that Clive had “killed” another one, and that, more importantly, he was still “alive”. He was out there fighting for her and he was still alive!
Clive slowed his breathing and stepped back behind the big tree. Wow, that one was much easier. That guy hadn’t even seen him. He had just wandered into the wrong part of the arena and Clive had been able to shoot him, bull’s-eye on the chest, before he had even noticed he was there. And his gun had definitely shot straight. Finally, he had been given a gun that worked properly! Hopefully next time he went go-karting, he may just be lucky enough not to be given the slow car. Clive felt happy and knew that he had just removed the second of the enemy six whose sole intent was to hurt his Gayle.
It seemed like maybe the enemy were sending troops out one by one to try and locate and destroy Team: Me and You so, if he just stayed right where he was, he may just be able to take them out as they crossed the arena.
Clive shook as head as he thought about the random team names that Jeremy had assigned to them both. Team: The World and Team: Me and You? What weird names. If he could have named his own team he would have gone for something a bit cooler, like The Sharpshooters or The Armageddon Squad or Clive and Gayle: Natural Born Killers. But he supposed that was Jeremy all over – always doing the unexpected and weird thing. The team names rotated around his head as he gripped his gun with Al Pacino-in-Scarface menace and glanced out to see if any more of the enemy had come to say hello to his little friend.
The World and Me and You. Me and You and The World. Me and You..... versus The World. He smiled as the penny finally dropped: Me and You vs. The World. Jeremy had done it again. He had put him and Gayle in a desperate situation and linked it into how they had felt about things in the past when they had felt in similar situations in life. It was their song, and their motto – Me and You vs. The World. Unfortunately they had both somehow seemed to have forgotten to live by it of late.
CRACK!
Clive instinctively looked around the tree and, sure enough, he was right – the enemy had sent another one out into no man’s land. This one, one of the oddly dressed “Frog Brothers”, had just stepped on, and snapped, a pretty big twig and was frozen rigid, obviously wondering whether he had given his position away. Even though he had now sunk to his knees and had moved slightly to the left, behind a large bush, Clive had spotted him.
“I See You!” he said in his mind, mimicking that Mac line from Predator. Clive seemed unable not to link his situation to every film he had ever seen that felt even remotely similar. He began his slow breathing ritual and brought his gun slowly up ready for making his next kill.
Gayle heard the giveaway crackle of the PA system that maybe meant another blast of the fog horn was coming.
“Forty-five minutes game time remaining”
She let out her breath.
It was just the announcement of time rather than another.....
PAARRRRRRP
Gayle quickly held her breath again and couldn’t help but be reminded about the scenes from The Hunger Games films in which, similarly, gamers’ deaths were announced by a large sound echoing around the arena. Of course in those films the sound was a much more impressive and dramatic canon shot rather that a tinny release-of-gas type noise, but the effect was evocative of those scenes. She again waited for that dreaded second blast and again ….. it never came. Clive had done it once more. She felt so happy and relieved and, even though she now realised that he was probably going to be talking about this forever, was so proud of Clive.
Wow, Team: Me and You were actually putting up a pretty good fight of it. Gayle smiled as her own personal penny dropped. Me and You vs. The World. That’s what this was. Her and Clive in a battle that, in all reality, they couldn’t win and yet they were putting up a damn good fight. This is how things should have been, in life, all along. Gayle and Clive vs. The World, just like they had promised each other all those years ago. Gayle began to cry again.
Clive stood still; leaning against what he had now decided was his favourite tree in the world. Or certainly his joint favourite tree – the tree that stood on the school field, the location where he and Gayle used to have their late picnics, was one close to his heart also. As such, he had decided to give this tree a name: Tree-ie. Not the most imaginative of names but it certainly seemed to suit him. Every few seconds he would slowly lurch his neck around and look out, beyond Tree-ie, and into the no man’s land area that had been the site of his three kills.
Yep, three kills.
Not a bad afternoons work so far. And that last one had been the easiest yet. The Frog Brother had basically walked over to Clive and presented himself to be shot; he had practically killed himself. Well, either that or Clive was actually getting pretty good at this.
Each time Clive looked around for more of the enemy coming through the same way and then returned his head back to resting against Tree-ie, that was so much more comfortable than you would expect from a tree; he would focus on an area of grass and bushes to his right that looked perfect for someone to hide in. If he had been in command of Team: The World he would have probably tried to send someone to get to that area rather than keep sending them up through the middle of the arena - that was certainly more open and exposed.
Maybe he should have been a military strategist? Was it too late to change professions? Are the army looking for potential new generals who have twenty-plus years experience as a postman? Possibly not.
Clive again slowly looked out to no man’s land and scanned the area. Again, there was nothing to be seen between where he was and the flag pole area where, in fairness, he had not spotted any movement whatsoever. As he returned his head back against Tree-ie and gazed upon the area of grass and bushes once more, something looked different. There was a different shape amongst a couple of the bushes. A shape that almost looke
d like a man in a squatting position. Clive’s brain processed the information in less than half a second. The shape was actually a man. A man who had sneaked up upon him without him realising. A man who, even though he had adopted a squatting position and looked like he may be taking a shit, was actually pointing his gun at Clive. A gun he was about to shoot.
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.
He fired multiple shots at Clive, one of the first ones luckily, or unluckily striking him on the lower abdomen – about three inches above being totally catastrophic. What it did mean though was that Clive naturally collapsed to the floor, in complete agony, and involuntarily did a forward roll that evaded most of the other paint balls and returned him to facing his squatting ambusher whilst still holding his gun.
Duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duh.
It sounded like the majority of the paintballs had missed Clive but had struck poor Tree-ie behind him. Clive, in total panic, squeezed his trigger and covered the whole area of grass and bushes in the red paint of his exploding pellets. Fortunately he managed to strike the enemy during his flurry of bullets. The man, in true dignified fashion, stood up, nodded his head and accepted his death graciously. He walked off towards the yellow gate not even seemingly bothered about the pain he must have been feeling due to the large red paint mark around his right knee. A paintball to the knee cap? That must have hurt. But he didn’t show it; war-weary hard bastard.
In contrast, Clive struggled to the relative safety of, a now green paint-spattered, Tree-ie almost crying. The pain in his stomach was probably the worst pain he’d experienced in his life and was easily twice as bad as having a baby. As he rubbed the green paint, wondering whether it was paint or whether he was actually a Predator and was now bleeding, he also noticed that he had been shot on the left thigh and somewhere near his right hip as well. He could hardly feel any pain from those “wounds” at all. Maybe it was the pain from his stomach that was masking that or maybe he, too, was becoming a bit of a war-weary hard bastard?
What he had also noticed during this encounter was two of the enemy; actually now the last two of the enemy, were hiding behind a small wooden storage box right next to the flag pole. They had only been visible for a split second and had quickly hidden when they had seen what had happened between Clive and the squatting tough guy, but he had seen them. He knew where they were. Unfortunately he had now been shot four times and so any more and he would also be “dead”.
PAARRRRRRP
Gayle let out an excited little laugh once she realised that there, again, was not going to be a second blast of the fog horn. Clive had killed another one. There were only two left now. He had already killed four so the last two should be a piece of cake, shouldn’t they? Was she letting herself believe that they were actually going to win this? Would there be a trophy that could sit on the shelf above the TV in the front room? And, more importantly, was she actually going to be able to walk out of here without having to take, even one more, of those ridiculously painful shots? (Why the hell did people do this; and do it in the name of fun?)
“Forty minutes game time remaining.”
Clive slid down Tree-ie and rested his bottom on the ground in between two large roots. He felt quite snug wedged in between, what felt like, two big protruding wooden arm rests; it was almost as though his new forest friend was giving him a big hug. Ahh Tree-ie, Clive felt like he wanted to take him home with him if he could; and he would try and clean off all that green paint that had unfortunately covered him. It looked like Banksy had mysteriously turned up and tried to create another of his anonymous “masterpieces”. Poor Tree-ie. Clive hoped that he wasn’t allergic to paint; otherwise this would be the start of a bad few days for him. He settled down and decided to rest his aching war wounds for a while. He was feeling good about his efforts so far, but also he was full of dread about the last little push that was in front of him. It reminded him about how he felt the day that he told Sue that he and Gayle were expecting a baby. He closed his eyes as his mind took him back.
Chapter Forty Seven: Unconditional Love.
Clive remembered the exact moment with crystal clear clarity. As he approached Sue she was sitting on her new chair that allowed her to rock slowly forwards and backwards. She used to laugh at the irony of her buying a “rocking chair”, even if it wasn’t one of those traditional, wooden ones you see out on wooden verandas in old American TV shows, because she had promised herself that she would never get old. And so this, three piece suite arm chair that rocked a little, seemed like the reluctant acceptance of someone getting old.
Maybe not wanting to get old was part of the reason that Sue had fostered and adopted so many kids over the years. Maybe being a “parent” to kids who needed help was a way of staying young.
Clive remembered that she looked quite content, rocking away, as he approached her. Her latest round of treatment had left her feeling more positive and, in turn, more healthy. He had no idea what he was going to say to her; he certainly had no plan anyway. He was fifteen years old and popular opinion suggests that he should have been concentrating on playing football with his friends at the park or, perhaps, annoying real old people by recklessly riding his BMX on the pavements. But here he was, having to tell his step-Mum that his girlfriend, who was also fifteen, was pregnant.
He and Gayle had already spoken at great length and had both agreed that they would definitely be keeping the baby; that much was not going to change. But Clive had been absolutely dreading telling Sue.
Had he let her down?
Would she be angry?
Would she maybe feel like she had let him down? Would she feel like she had failed in her job because she maybe felt like part of that job was to steer him away from situations like this? The last thing he wanted was to make Sue feel like she had failed him in any way, shape or form. She had been the only constant he had ever known before he had met Gayle. She was also obviously very poorly and shouldn’t be having to deal with any further problems.
“There’s no easy way to say this,” were the first words that came out of Clive’s mouth after Sue had noticed him slowly walking towards her. “Gayle is pregnant. We are going to be having a baby.”
He winced and got ready for Sue’s response.
He heard all the possible things she may say flooding through his head: “You can’t possibly keep it!” “How could you both be so irresponsible?” “You will be ruining your childhoods and, ultimately, your lives!” “You are too young.” “You are not ready for this.”
Sue took her time though before saying anything. She took lots of deep breaths and continued rocking, although slightly slower than she had been before. When she finally spoke, it was quietly and calmly.
“I take it, it wasn’t planned?” she asked in an almost hushed voice.
Clive shook his head.
“Come and sit with me.” Sue said, patting her hands on her thighs.
Clive sat on her knee, which was something he hadn’t done for years and, although he felt like he was too big to do so, and may actually hurt her, doing so felt comforting and reassuring.
“Life is strange.” Sue said after stroking Clive’s hair for a couple of minutes. “It works in ways that we cannot begin to try to understand. Maybe a responsible parent right now would be advising you to have an abortion, but I won’t. You must do whatever you think is right, whatever you and Gayle think is right, and I will support you. If you thought a termination was the best thing to do, then I would support you. If you think keeping the baby is the best thing to do, then I will support you ….”
She paused for a while, obviously deciding what to say next. Clive thought she was maybe waiting for him to say something else but he just wanted to listen; he had said everything he wanted to say for now.
“You are both so young and so unprepared for something like this,” Sue said after a silence that felt like it could last all day. “But, then again, I’m not sure that anyone is ever prepared; not fully prepar
ed anyway. As you know I was never able to have children of my own and so find it hard to accept that anyone should just be able to frivolously pick and choose when they should or shouldn’t have children. Life will decide what and when..... about life..... and death. And new life is so beautiful. The only thing that anyone really needs to be able to care properly for a child is love. That’s all. Just unconditional love. Everything else will sort itself out. The society we have means that there is financial help for those who need it. If you and Gayle have decided that you are going to keep the baby..... then everything will be ok. Just love that baby, like you love one another, and everything will be ok.”
Clive continued to sit there on Sue’s knee knowing that he didn’t need to say anything. He should have known that he had nothing to worry about before telling her about the baby. She had made all the fear and dread go away completely, just like she always did. He knew that if he could make his baby feel half as special as she made him feel, then he would be doing ok.
Chapter Forty Eight: This Is It!
Clive opened his eyes and felt refreshed by the memory that had just played out in his head. It’s funny how, in any situation he found himself in life, he could recall some of the wisdom and love that Sue had given him in the past, and he would instantly feel better about things in the present. It was almost as good as having her with him to help him out in person. God he missed her so much.
Ok, he thought, get your mind back on track. He’d had a little rest and was ready to face what was in front of him. There was a job to do and he needed a plan.
Within a couple of minutes he had decided on what he was going to do. He was going to keep his eye on the wooden storage box by the flag pole in case one of the remaining enemy decided to meet him head on; although he didn’t think that would happen. The two of them had probably decided to stay where they were and protect their flag - by waiting for him. It made strategic sense not to risk either of them, especially since they had lost four of their comrades already. Yep, thought Clive, he’d wiped out two-thirds of their entire army; all on his own, and he was pretty sure that the remaining enemy would now wait things out; at least until much closer to the end of the game time.