Trying To Run In Prison Part 3

Stevens completed his light sweep of the room, switched off the light and turned to his two colleagues.

"Ok, this is the situation." Began Stevens, "on first impressions it does appear that we have 3 deceased on the premises. Roberts, you can come in with me and help take some notes and get a few photographs. Brown, you can return to the car and call this one in. We are going to need an ambulance and a forensic team in here as soon as possible." Brown nodded and turned to leave. "Oh, and Brown."

"Yes sir?" Replied Brown, turning back to face Stevens.

"Try not to step on the f.u.c.king letters again, there's a good boy."

Stevens turned his attention to Roberts. "Touch nothing son. Do nothing unless I say so, just concentrate on not f.u.c.king this up and take notes. Do you think you can manage that?"

The very nervous Roberts s.h.i.+fted nervously and replied, "Yes sir, of course sir, thank you sir."

Stevens shook his head woefully and turned back to the room. He reached into his pocket, retrieved the Vicks and pa.s.sed it back to Roberts. "Top lip son, it's not pleasant in here."

Stevens re-entered the room.

Chapter 14.

The bell rang out signaling the end of the day and Thomas Mc Cann wearily packed up his bag, swung it over his shoulder and headed off to face Parris in his office. Thomas felt like Thomas arrived to find Parris in the middle of a phone call, Parris gestured for Thomas to wait with his finger and returned his attention to the call. Parris's office was small and as Thomas thought, 'perfect for the poisonous little smurf.' Thomas had only sat in Parris's office on one previous occasion and that was when he was being interviewed. On that occasion Thomas found it an altogether foul room. It stank of stale sweat, the desk seemed to be alive with a disorganised organic concoction of paperwork and coffee rings. In one corner stood an easel with the planning for a whole school timetable from 6 years ago. Photos on the wall to the side of the desk were most likely those of Parris's family, which appeared to have be taken at some point in the 80's considering the basin cut and corduroys sported by the boy who appeared in most of them.

There was a painting on the wall near the door of a beautiful yet darkened coastline with a young woman dressed in white flowing sheets walking away from a cliffs edge. Thomas didn't like this room at all.

Parris finished his call, put the phone down and sternly signaled Thomas into his office.

"Sit down Mc Cann." Said Parris.

"Thank you sir." Replied Thomas, as he walked the 3 small paces into the tiny sweat drenched room and settled in a graffiti covered school chair directly opposite Papa Smurf.

"Mc Cann, I can't say I am overly happy being dragged away from my work to have to deal with the students of incompetent staff. I also can't say that I am overly happy being dragged away to have to face incompetent staff who reek of booze while looking after children. I finally can't say that I am at all happy having to take a phone call from a furious parent who claims that one of my staff has not only verbally a.s.saulted his son, but has also physically a.s.saulted him. Care to explain yourself Mc Cann?"

Thomas was shocked, he starred at Parris with a look of complete bemus.e.m.e.nt, his mouth open and brain still attempting to digest what had just been said. His look was met by the steely blue and impatient eyes of Parris, he was waiting for a response.

"Well, what have you got to say for yourself?"

Thomas attempted to compose himself, but just looked more uncomfortable as he s.h.i.+fted about nervously in his graffiti'd seat.

"I have no idea what you are talking about. The lad started firing paper b.a.l.l.s at a girl in the same cla.s.s, I asked him to stop and he was rude to me. He swore at me a few times, I asked him to leave and he refused, so I moved the cla.s.s to another room. The only thing I did that I was not particularly proud of was to call him pathetic and ask if he wasn't getting enough attention at home. I know that was wrong, but the kid was bang out of order and really doing what he could to press my b.u.t.tons." Replied Thomas.

"Well Mc Cann, I'm afraid that is not quite the story I have. I spoke with the boy earlier and the stories match to a point. The lad does admit that he was being silly firing the paper b.a.l.l.s that you mention and that he was a little rude to you. But then claims that you swore at him and grabbed him roughly by the arm saying, and I quote, 'get out of my room you chavvy little c.u.n.t.' Not really the kind of behavior we expect at this school from our staff Mc Cann."

"He is lying, straight up lying. Please say you don't actually believe the little s.h.i.+t. I didn't swear at him and I certainly never laid a b.l.o.o.d.y finger on him." Said Thomas slightly raising the volume of his voice.

"Then Mr. Mc Cann, perhaps you would be so good as to explain where the lad acquired the bruises on his right arm that look a lot like a grab. And while you are at it, perhaps you would also like to comment as to why 2 other students have seen fit to provide me with statements which back up this alleged series of events."

"I have honestly done nothing wrong, I have not laid a b.l.o.o.d.y hand on the kid. They are plain and simple lies. Like I said, I admit to calling him pathetic and asking whether he didn't get attention at home, but that's it. I'm not proud of my actions as far as that goes, but I have certainly not done the things he is accusing me of." Said Thomas hurriedly.

"Mr. Mc Cann, I hope you can appreciate the seriousness of this situation. I have spoken with the head about the situation and I am afraid my hands are tied here. We have no choice here other than to suspend you." Thomas recoiled and gasped in shock, he was not expecting that at all.

Papa Smurf continued. "Obviously you will remain on full pay while we carry out a thorough investigation into the incident. You must also know that I have reported to the head that when I spoke with you earlier I smelt alcohol upon your personage, I appreciate that you say it was from the previous evening but the fact remains Mr. Mc Cann, if I can smell it then that would mean that you would indeed still have alcohol within your system. I'm sure you would agree, it is not acceptable for members of staff in a school to be under the influence of alcohol."

Thomas didn't quite know what to do or say. He sat back in the chair and exhaled feeling completely defeated.

"I don't know what to say. This is ridiculous, I have done nothing wrong. This kids lies are going to kill my career. Ok I agree that it is wrong that I may be a little hungover, but it was a one off, it's not something I make a habit out of all, just ask anyone who knows me at the school." Thomas paused and stared deep into Papa Smurfs compa.s.sionless eyes, "So what happens now?" He asked.

"You go home Mr. Mc Cann. You go home until we call you back in. As I mentioned, you will remain on full pay until this situation is resolved. We will be meeting with HR later in the week, so will probably be in touch early next week."

"I am devastated." Said Thomas. "This is just nonsense, how can one kid do this to a member of staff and just because he was pulled up for being out of order in cla.s.s. I hope you do get to the bottom of this as quick as possible and I also hope that you then permanently exclude him. I'm devastated. Devastated and disgusted. I will obviously have to speak with my union about this."

"Obviously. But I'm afraid this is the procedure Mr. Mc Cann, there is nothing I can do." Replied Papa Smurf.

"I don't think there is anything you want to do either is there? I know you have never liked me, why I don't know, but I'm fine with that. But what I am not fine with is you using this as a lever to get me out of this school. So I guess all I am asking for here is that this issue is dealt with rationally and fairly and ideally not by you. I know where I stand and I don't wish to say anything else I will regret, so I will just go."

"I think that may be a very good idea." Replied the very red face Parris.

Thomas stood up and fired an aggressive look straight at Parris who buckled under the intensity of it and broke eye contact. Thomas swung his bag over his shoulder and left the room slamming the door behind him.

It took the usual 7 attempts to get the motorbike started and he pulled out of the staff car park at exactly the same time as it started to rain.

"Perfect." Thought Thomas, "Just f.u.c.king Perfect!"

Chapter 15.

Craig woke up gasping for air and glimmering with sweat. The swimming pool dream was becoming far too regular for Craig's liking. He started having the dream a few weeks ago, but it seemed to be developing and he really didn't like this at all. What had started as a simple being stuck in a pool scrabbling for the surface dream had now become an unearthly h.e.l.lish landscape.

Craig pulled himself out of bed with an almighty effort and headed off for the shower. He dried, dressed and headed off for another day of no customers at the car lot.

Craig walked briskly to the car lot through the dark grey icy cold February morning to keep warm, arrived in good time, tapped in the alarm code and walked in to make a cup of coffee.

Craig sat with his coffee on the brown leather sofa and began reflecting on last night's dream.

'What did it mean? What the h.e.l.l is the pool about? Does it mean I feel trapped? I'm always trying to get to the surface, am I trying to escape something in my life? Maybe it's this f.u.c.king place, perhaps I should sell the place and just move somewhere, somewhere warm. The hooks I'm not getting, it's been about a fortnight since they started appearing and the f.u.c.king dead bodies too. What the h.e.l.l is next?'

Craig sipped at his coffee and leaned back further into the sofa, his head flopped backwards and he stared up at the ceiling, that was the point he noticed it.

Ever since he could remember he had always been at the car lot. He had of course registered that there was a picture on the wall behind the sofa, but he had never actually looked at it. He was looking at it now. He stood up and turned to face it. The picture was a print of a painting, a painting that seemed to have been fas.h.i.+oned from some kind of thick oil based paint that had been almost slopped onto the canvas and almost sculptured into shape. The painting was of a young woman dressed in a luxurious white flowing dress walking away from the edge of a huge cliff face. Other than the brilliant white of the dress, the painting was incredibly dark and the sky depicted a huge storm that engulfed everything. Despite the intense swirling darkness of the painting, Craig felt that the artist was attempting to portray a message of hope. He stared at the picture intently and tried to imagine the story behind the artists hand.

'The storm looks as if it is representing her life, she must be encountering some kind of tremendous ordeal in her life that has pulled her to this ominous place. She came here to contemplate suicide, but has had a change of heart and has decided to turn back and face the world. The white dress must be symbolic of the purity of her soul and just how untouched by the harshness of life she really is, she has realized this and therefore realised who she is and just how strong, therefore turning back from the edge of despair. I just wish I could see the expression on her face. Perhaps I have missed my calling and should have been an art critic? Or maybe not, I have probably got all wrong.' Craig afforded himself a small smile and sipped at his ever cooling coffee. He continued to stare at the painting and began to draw comparisons between himself and the lady in the white flowing dress. His concentration was broken as the familiar sound of the automatic door announced the arrival of someone to the showroom. 'Probably Tony' thought Craig turning around. He was very wrong.

Two large men had entered the showroom, two large men that Craig had never seen before. They did not look like the usual customers that the car lot usually attracted, they looked menacing and certainly showed no interest in the gleaming cars on display. They made Craig feel very uneasy.

The two men marched to where Craig was standing, both dressed in exactly the same outfit: Work boots, blue jeans, Fred Perry T-s.h.i.+rt with a s.h.i.+ny black bomber jacket on top. Both men were of very heavy set and seemed to be full of muscle, not 'for show' muscle, but 'real' muscle, muscle that had been developed through hard work. Both men were completely bald and sported a good 3 day rough growth of stubble.

"good morning gentlemen," said Craig stretching out a welcoming hand, "how can I help you?"

The men stopped in front on Craig, both ignored the outstretched hand. The slightly larger of the 2 men spoke.

"Are you the owner of this gaff?" His voice was low but had strength entwined around a thick east end accent.

"I am sir." Replied Craig retracting his redundant gesture. "How can I help?"

"Then you must be Craig Mandeville. I will tell you how you can help." Craig didn't like the tone of the slightly bigger man's voice, he felt as though the man was trying to intimidate him.

"We are here as representatives of the Delaney family, I'm sure you have heard of them. We are concerned that since the death of your late father G.o.d rest his soul, that you have not been honoring payments to the family. The family are prepared to overlook this mistake, but now insist that you reestablish the payments beginning this week."

"I'm sorry, I don't think I am fully with you. Are you saying that you expect me to pay you money? For what exactly?" Replied a rather annoyed Craig.

"I think you have heard me quite clearly sir," replied the slightly larger man. "but in the spirit of being clear, we will be back here on Friday to collect 200 from you. In fact we will be here every Friday to collect 200 from you."

"And in return I get what exactly?" asked Craig still wearing very perplexed look upon his face.

"In return Mr. Mandeville, what you get is peace of mind. Peace of mind in the fact that n.o.body will ever cause you any grief. Peace of mind that we will ensure that you start to receive a steady stream of profitable customers. But perhaps most importantly of all, peace of mind that Stan here and I, do not have to come back here, smash every f.u.c.king car you have up and put you in the f.u.c.king ground."

Craig stared at him with complete bemus.e.m.e.nt. "You mean to tell me that I must pay you 200 every week or else all my cars get smashed up and you will kill me? If that is your offer, I have to admit gentlemen that as tempting an offer as it is, I must respectfully decline it and bid you a good day."

"Mr. Mandeville, I am going to let you have a little think about the very generous offer my employer has extended to you. I will be back tomorrow at the same time and I suggest that before then you do a little bit of homework to ensure you make the right decision. After all, this is a lovely little set up you have here and it really would be a terrible shame if anything happened to it."

"Do you think I am afraid of you? Well I am not, and just so we are clear, the answer tomorrow will be no as well. I refuse to be intimidated and will not be extorted by you or anyone else."

"Like I say Mr. Mandeville, I will let you sleep on it and see you bright and early tomorrow morning. You have yourself a good day now." With that the slightly larger man nodded to his accomplice and they both turned and left the car lot.

Craig sat back down on the sofa below the cliff edge painting and exhaled loudly. Although he was pleased with his tough response, he knew d.a.m.n well that they would indeed be back. He knew d.a.m.n well that they were very serious. He knew d.a.m.n well that he was alone.

He toyed with the idea of calling the police, but what exactly would they do, most likely nothing. Even if they did decide to show up in the morning, the 2 men would simply deny everything and that would be the end of it. He wanted to call the police, but that was not for now, for now he had to simply just collect some evidence, but how? And more importantly how would he be able to defend himself? He was pretty certain that if they did return tomorrow that they would be in greater numbers and determined to get a positive result by any means.

Craig was not lying, he really was not scared. He was not stupid and obviously did not want to experience a beating or any degree of pain, but he was not a happy man. Even after beating his battle with alcoholism Craig had never really found his way in life. He had no partner, no aims, no real ambition for life and death no longer caused him any degree of anxiety or fear, in fact in many ways he would welcome it. Craig just hoped that when the time eventually arrived that it would be eternal black and not knowing that he experienced, not a perpetual series of dreams similar to those which tortured his existence on Earth. He was adamant however that he would not be bullied, no matter what.

Through Craig's limited time in school he experienced bullying first hand. He coped well with it, even the occasional cruel comment about his mother was something that he could cope with. But he saw what it did to others and that was what he didn't like. Bullying was something that Craig grew to despise and he was determined that he was not going to become a victim.

Chapter 16.

Howard's eyes sprang open and he instinctively reached for his neck. Nothing.

No demon, no nosebleed, no power cut.

Just the continual loop of the pink Floyd DVD he had pressed play on before settling to go to sleep.

This was the first time Howard had ever experienced a double dream and he didn't like it at all.

Sweat dripped from what felt like every pore in his body. He was breathing heavily and very disorientated. He reached down his lift side and pinched the soft flesh of his love handle, he was pretty certain that the vivid pain meant that he was indeed fully awake this time.

The clock read 8:37am which left him just 23 minutes to shower, grab a cup of tea and some toast and open the shop. He didn't feel much like opening the shop, but given the harrowing ordeal of the previous evening and the horrific double dream he figured that it would be best to attempt some kind normality to try and take his mind off of things.

Other than feeling slightly nervous when pulling back the shower curtain, the mission to open the shop when smoothly and he unlocked the door with 2 minutes to spare. Howard flicked on the stereo in the office, placed the needle on side 2 The Final Cut by Pink Floyd and returned to his usual position in the shop, sat behind the counter in his brown leather chair with his tea in his favourite Guinness mug and latest copy of the NME.

The day dragged. Howard finished reading the NME and flipped the Pink Floyd LP he was listening to a further 4 times to keep him company. Lunch time came and went and Howard moved onto The Dark Side of The Moon and began reading 'Whatever Love Means' by David Baddiel. He had read the book about a year ago and really enjoyed it and decided to pick it up again as he knew how much it made him laugh the first time round. He had just started reading the third chapter when the unfamiliar sound of the shop door ringing open brought him back to reality. He placed the book on the counter, took a sip of his luke warm tea and craned his neck around to the left to see who had just come in.

The customer who had come in was busy thumbing through a pile of old Northern Soul discs in a rack near the door. Howard could not make out whether it was a man or woman on account of the long rain mac they were wearing, with the hood pulled up. He cast a look outside, no rain. 'Strange,' Howard thought to himself, 'Perhaps it's just really cold out there.'

Howard took another sip of his tea and turned his attention back to his book. The hooded figure continued to look through the Northern Soul section, occasionally removing a vinyl and carefully examining it for scratches and matrix details.

"Let me know if you need any help with anything, I'm just gonna make a cuppa." Howard called as he stood and walked to the back of the shop and flicked on the kettle. Howard whistled along with the music and drummed along on the top of the coffee jar as the kettle started to crackle to life. The shop door let out another ring. Howard placed the spoon on top of the coffee jar and walked back into the shop expecting to see an empty shop after the strange hooded figure had left. What he saw instead was another hooded figure.

The second hooded figure was dressed identically to the first and stood directly opposite searching through the New Wave and Punk section. Howard felt nervous, 'This doesn't feel right at all.' He thought to himself.

The kettle clicked off and he reluctantly turned his attention back to making his coffee. He spooned in the granules, then half a spoon of sugar followed by the water. He reached down to collect the milk from the fridge and the shop door rang again. 'what the f.u.c.king h.e.l.l is going on!' Howard thought, he didn't want to look back in the shop, but had to.

Howard looked back inti the shop and his heart raced as he observed 4 identically hooded figures, all rapidly searching through different sections of vinyl. Howard didn't know what to do with himself, but he knew that it didn't feel right. Not right at all.

He grabbed his keys, locked the door to his flat and left the shop via the back door. It was a cold yet bright winter afternoon and Howard created huge plumes of smoke as his rapid breathing began to calm. He walked across the back yard and undid the padlock. He walked out of the yard and into the small lane behind. Howard had decided that he would walk around the perimeter and back to the front of the shop. He was hoping by which time his hooded customers would be gone. He took a few paces in the lane and stopped. 2 hooded figures appeared at the end of the lane. He turned and started walking the other way down the lane, he stopped. 2 more figures appeared at the end of the lane. He turned back to the yard, slammed the door shut and fastened the padlock. He ran across the yard and back into the shop. He reached the shop and walked in. the shop was full of hooded figures all searching through vinyl. There must have been about 50 of them in total. Howard shook with panic and fumbled with his keys trying to desperately locate the one for his flat. He found it, steadied himself and slid it into the lock and turned it, as he did all 50 figures turned to face him. The s.p.a.ce beneath the hood was entirely black apart from 2 piercing yellow eyes. Howard gasped and wrenched the door open and hurried inside. He raced up the stairs and located the phone, breathing more rapidly than he had ever done in his life he dialed as best he could with trembling fingers. Luckily it was just the 3 digits. 999.

"Emergency, which service do you require?" Asked the operator.

"Police please." Replied Howard.

"Ok, thank you. Connecting you now, please stay on the line."

"Ok, thanks."

Howard heard a bang on the door downstairs. Then another.

"Police, what is your emergency?" said the new operator.

"I have a gang of people all wearing hoods in my shop and they are all trying to get me. I have locked myself in my flat, but they are now banging on the door trying to get in, please send someone!"

"Ok sir, please do try and stay calm and we will get someone to you as soon as possible. Can you please give me the address, your name and a contact number."

Howard provided the details and hung up. The banging on the door intensified. He ran to the kitchen and pulled the cutlery draw out and placed it at the top of the stairs. He ran into the bedroom and pull out every bit of clothing he had and began throwing it down the stairs towards the door. He figured that would make it difficult to walk up the stairs and that he would be able to take a few out with knives from the draw, the bodies of which would hopefully make it difficult for the others to get past. He pulled the large bread and chefs knives out and put those to one side, just in case someone makes it up. He grabbed 2 small chopping knives and readied himself at the top of the stairs.

Bang bang bang.

Bang bang bang.