rantings of a bald man

Short story a work in progress part seven

Part Six

The drive is pleasant enough I guess, makes a change from walking. But the smell of the police car brings back more memory’s then the vodka can numb. Pixie sits in complete silence the whole journey, either resigned to her fate or just pissed off.

Even A who is or used to be so talkative you would have to beg him to be quiet seems absorbed in a world of his own. So its with some relief we arrive in the slums.

A goes to park on the street but I lean forward and tap him on the shoulder “somewhere more secluded A” I request. He laughs and shrugs an apology, then finds a nice quiet back street to drop us off.

“good luck mate” he says as he stretches out a hand for me to shake “hey” I reply “maybe we will meet again” A shakes his head ruefully and gives me a wink and a smile. I watch the back of his car as he leaves until its out of eyeshot, then reluctantly turn to my rather unhappy travelling companion “so my fair guide, lead on. Oh and do feel free to talk on occasion”

This seems to be the final straw for Pixie, she slams a fist into my face and spits in rage “fuck you, were dead fucking dead, you smart mouthed shit. I was doing ok for once in my life. Now I have to baby-sit a man who it turns out is not just an annoying shit and an alcoholic but used to be a fucking policeman” this tirade seems to use up the last of her energy and she slumps against a wall not far from where I sit rubbing my face.

“I’m sorry, well sort of” she kind of apologises to me. “suppose its not your fault, well apart from the alcoholic shit bit” I laugh and have to agree with her. “what makes you think were dead?” I ask. “she looks at me tears brimming in her eyes “why would Patric send us?” she enquires “I’ll fucking tell you why, because we are expendable, both of us” “and if we are expendable” she continues “chances are, chances are were going to be truly fucked”.

I cant argue with this, I cant argue with anything but I don’t have a choice, not anymore. I reach out for Pixie and help her stand up “ which way” I ask and together we head further and deeper into the slums.

After a couple of hours I am completely lost and becoming more nervous by the footstep. Pixie however seems to have shaken off her anger and despair, and strolls on with the air of authority she appears to hold in this part of the city. Several people greet her as we make our way. The streets get busier and those on it more desperate looking until we arrive at a Pub or what used to be one anyway.

“what are we doing?” I ask Pixie “ I just need to sort something out” she answers, the embarrassment in her eyes and the way she unconsciously rubs her nose can only mean one thing time for a re supply of dust.

A man the size of a bear guards the entrance, his face a patchwork of scars and tattoo’s a hand the size of a shovel reaches out for me “who the fuck are you” he growls, sounding like Tank’s long lost brother. “I’m with her” I nod at Pixie who is already half way through the door “her I know, you I don’t” is his menacing reply.

Part Seven

Suitably told I know my place and sit next to a burnt out car. I take time to smoke a cigarette, and hold my old gun in my hand. Something I swore I would never do again. Without thinking my hands go through the motions of checking everything works and it has a full magazine. I blow smoke out of the corner of my mouth and feel like a true gangster. No one around me takes any notice, nearly everyone carries a weapon of some description “how the mighty have fallen” I think to myself and smile.

I don’t have long to wait, Pixie returns her face flushed and pupils the size of saucers. I give her a cheery wave and she sits down next to me. We look at each other and share a wry grin. “so you used to be one of Patric’s little police men then?” she asks. I nod a yes “more than that really, for a while I was his right hand man” I reply. “shit Fallen I had no idea” I shrug “no one was supposed to, shit happened and I ended up the man you know, well knew. It was not great but better than what I was before”

“so” she asks “you think this is real, the police raids, the prisons and our task?” I stand up and reach out my hand to her “only one way to find out”

Now Pixie has fired up her neurons she leads the way with confidence, before long we reach the end of the slums, the edge of no mans land. We or rather she finds the place we are supposed to meet our guide. I find my gun in my hand without realising and light another cigarette, although with a shaky hand.

“who are we meeting?” I ask. Pixie frowns , the dust is leaving her system and her brain is turning towards treacle. “begins with L, Larry I think” is her less then convincing reply. Just then someone comes striding out from around a corner, hand extended for a shake, this proves to be quite embarrassing as my contains a gun.

“Larry is correct young lady, you must be Fallen a pleasure to meet you, heard so much about you” he politely ignores the gun in my hand and smoothly switches his to Pixie who just about manages to shake it, this gives me just about enough time to pocket my gun and receive a bone grating handshake. “ shit mate” I exclaim as I try to get the feeling back in my hand, “you work out or what?” Larry grins, then I realize the bastard does indeed look super fit, fuck knows why but I feel embarrassed at the state of myself, so I try to stand tall and look healthy. This results in a coughing fit and I red faced drop my cigarette to the ground.

“so you our guide then Larry?” I ask praying the answer is no. “sadly not” Larry replies, this brings momentary relief, short lived as he casually brings out his own gun “ I am here to kindly relieve you of your burden, give me the box please” he demands his gun aimed at Pixie’s head.

Previous parts to the story can be found here.http://www.baldychaz.com/2011/04/10/short-story-a-work-in-progress-part-six/

This entry was posted on Monday, April 11th, 2011 at 10:33 pm. It is filed under Ideas for my first novel, Uncategorized and tagged with fallen, larry, pixie, short story. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.