Book Of Two

By Chris Norgate

In the heart of the tempest a house burns.
For Police officer Luke Christian it started with a home invasion and arson attack that left one man fighting for his life and his fiancee dead. Of all the witnesses who stood out in the storm not one had seen anything that could help. After a personal promise to bring those responsible to justice, PC Christian is taken on a journey that takes him far from his routine into a hidden underworld he didn't know existed. Along the way his investigation takes him on an earth shattering ride where an old woman opens his eyes and a young woman explodes his perceptions as he learns what he will have to risk, what he will have to do to keep his promise.
For Rancid things started much sooner when the Sisters, two beautiful but deadly twins, instructed his gang to take for them the perfect sacrifice to appease their God's hunger for flesh and blood. She had to be pure, she had to be perfect and she had to be half of a whole. How was he to know they took the wrong girl? She was in the wedding dress after all and looked like the picture. Now he's being hunted by a dead woman seeking revenge, distressed employers who can not only end your life in this world but ensure it's tormented all through the next and now really needs a drink to help make all this go away.
Imogen is stuck. Not here nor there just somewhere else. Something had wrenched her out of her life and left her to the mercy of the creature. Her path isn't so clear after all how many people have walked through the realms known to her as Hell and made it out the other side.
After the intensity of the fire Grace is cold, bitterly cold. The only respite to the turbulence she feels is in the pain of those that caused her suffering. Should she spend her remaining time in this world extracting revenge for her love lying in his hospital bed or should she save her soul before it's too cold to come back from the brink?
As the storm grows once more the walls between worlds grow thin and the Demon-God Baalberith is making a journey of his own. One that will enslave us all.

The distance between this world and the next is as thick as a whisper, as deep as shadow and as real as a Summer's dream. This is a tale of those that strive to exist within the cracks that separate life and death or this world and the other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Norgate
• Release date: Apr 18, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370160938

Chris Norgate

Chris Norgate lives in Hampshire in England with his wife, children and small furry rodent like things and spends most his time playing with them or mucking them out - you decide which.Why write a book? After years of struggling with the written word dating back many years to being labelled at school (by a teacher who was too scared to call him thick) Chris has tried to find ways to not read or write. After having to write more reports for work and driving the automatic spell checker into meltdown, he sat down to make a list of the top ten misspelled words he makes......this soon turned into well over 100. So with a blogging site set up to try and get a short paragraph or two to constantly write words until spelt correct he started the diary; it was originally about his life and was as boring as a firework party under the sea, so he added things to make it more interesting. When comments on the blog started coming in that the girl character was very interesting - which surprised him as he was writing about himself, Chris changed 'her' into Valentine as it was the 13th Feb when he was looking for a name and it seemed a good one to go on with. And there it is, 17 months later a book has been created and now its been unleashed onto the world until Chris is paid an extortionate amount of money to take it away and smash the hard-drive its saved on.If Chris ever finds the courage to write another book he promises to try and put a plot into it.

Book preview

book of two

chris norgate

Raphael, why did you have to die?

Copyright © 2017 by Chris Norgate

Book Of Two, an original novel by Chris Norgate

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United Kingdom

First Edition Printing, April 2017

ISBN 9781521019849

[e-mail]

Commencement

On a night like this one could believe Heaven had fallen to its immortal foe. Rain lashed down like razorblades pelting the tarmac road with a force that drove the years of grime out of the small cracks in the imperfect surface, generating rivers of rainbowed oils to smash into greys of dirt.

A once imposing large family home stood now, fallen from its once fine glory as the storm drove the flaking paint from its resting place. The front porch had all but collapsed across the double front doors bringing down a stretch of balcony through years of neglect. It crashed now onto the overgrown front garden, dominated by aggressive weeds under the deluge of the water hurtling from the turmoil of the enraged blackness above. It left a dilapidated and haunting image that played with the imagination disturbingly.

A car splashed through a large puddle sending a wave of grey water over the path as it pulled to a stop outside the house. Lightning coruscated driving all other light away highlighting in blackness the gnarled forms of dead trees and rotting timbers that once denoted the ownership line of this land from the rest of the world. Now they left a ragged twisted line that few dared to cross.

A police officer tentatively stepped out of the vehicle pulling his hat down hard against the rain. He failed to do this simple task as wind took it from him and splashed it into a muddied puddle. He ran, stooping to collect it before making his way as quickly as he could around the remains of the recently fallen timbers to the front door. He shined his torch through the pollution encrusted window before pushing his face close to peer inside. There was nothing to see but he continued echoing his task through each of the windows until he met a tall impassable wall. He retraced his steps back to the front and banged on the door calling out with words that were instantly stolen by the storm.

Believing his duties here complete, the police officer ran back to his car and threw himself through the door as soon as he got an opening wide enough and slammed it shut behind him sealing out the weather. The engine putted into life and the car drove off into the night as lightning cascaded in rapid succession. From a second floor window there appeared to be a new shadow which, when the next bolt of power struck from the sky, was removed.

The police car turned along a busier street crammed with small brick building all huddling together as if sheltering themselves from the horrid night. Even with the rain people moved around in the open. Most had no choice but to go about their business, scratching what living they could from of the street. Others had less options but to be out on this night not fit for fur or fowl, but sheltered as best they could under inadequate cardboard boxes or scavenged materials from recycling bins like strips of plastic, which now did little more than hide their heads. Some like the gangs, glorified in the rain howling and baying intimidating any soul brave or foolish enough to be travelling on foot in all of this heavy weather until they hurried away.

The law man was spotted by a small kid acting as lookout and the other members flocked to watch the vehicle drive past. They called obscenities, gesturing with their hands or exposing themselves in shows of strength and defiance until they were left masters of their filthy street.

The police officer noted the faces as best he could but knew better than to slow or stop in this neighbourhood to enforce the rules and regulations laid down by society. The new society here had abandoned those rules, it hadn’t always been this way. Once this was a family place filled with children playing and family run shops selling the daily needs of a thriving community. Until the refinery closed and laid off the full workforce. Then the gangs grew, finding any crack to exploit and profit from. First alcohol and depression gutted the community as the factory after factory closed causing employment to evaporate. Those that could moved themselves and their family's away to chase after scare jobs offered elsewhere. Those that could not turned their once proud heads and ignored the newcomers accepting their fate. Soon a deluge of crime and drugs submerged the good folk until only the scum floated above the surface like putrefied flotsam and jetsam from a wrecked cargo vessel.

The station house glowed with escaping light as the police vehicle drew up. It parked in one of the prestigiously sought spaces right outside the rear entrance and the driver thought for a moment his luck was changing, until he saw two of his colleagues struggling with a hoodied figure who was strongly protesting his innocence.

Need a hand? The police officer enquired as he ran to the scene.

We did ten minutes ago getting his stinking arse into the car. Although he was so high we would have needed the helicopter to have picked him up off the street. Samantha, Sam to her friends and ‘The Bitch with the iron kick’ to those unfortunate enough not to be in the former list, was at the front pulling the apprehended youth. They couldn’t use more traditional terms like kid or bastard anymore due to official vocab guidelines. She was aiming him towards the custody suite and the relative safety it provided them. She had her long hair tied up as tight as it would go against her head. She had lost her hat and the wrestling match had pulled long strands of gold out of its bindings so it whipped across her face wildly with the wind.

Her partner, an older officer called Steve but who went by the name Whiskey due to the colour of his hair and strictly not for the aroma that hung to him closer than his greying stubble. He said nothing concentrating instead on the business at hand, but he acknowledged the newcomer as he easily lifted the detainee by the arms and carried him through the door into the dry heat of the station.

So Luke, any joy with the kids causing a disturbance at the old Fisher place? asked the desk Sergeant as the thoroughly wet police officer deposited the now resigned and moody petty criminal in front of him. Sam and Steve took up position either side to ensure the custody room rules were adhered too.

Name. it was not a question and was addressed to the only non-uniformed member of the quartet on the public side of the desk.

No comment. came the reply.

O.K Mr No Comment, continued the custody Sergeant, Do you know your rights or shall I waste my breath telling you something you’ve heard and ignored a thousand times before?

There was no reply apart from a kick to the already well bashed modesty panel of the tall desk where the Sergeant stood to take details of all the visitors who decided to stay at the publicly funded bed and breakfast.

Number eight is free. It's clean as I’ve just been in there swilling out after its puking former occupant. It does have a strong aroma of bleach and stale larger though, but I’m sure you won’t mind will you, Henry?

Henry the hoodie was led away to a heavy metal door marked 8. There was a loud thud followed by the bang of an automatic retaining bolt springing into its keep. The custody Sergeant turned his attention back to Luke who was drying off with paper towels from a dispenser on the wall.

I’m glad it's you youngsters out there on nights like this and not me. Tea?

Yes please Si, I’ll just go through and get this wet kit off and write my report. Luke said as he waited to be buzzed through a locked door into the station proper. No sign of any kids causing a disturbance over at the Fisher house, not that I expected any on a night like this, only the idiots down on Langstone Road behaving like apes.

Tea was given. It was tepid and thin but flowed down a cold throat like nectar, but even so Luke refused a second cup. Sam came into the General Office and span a chair around so she could sit with the high back at her front, all the better to rest her arms on.

Henry was stealing from the off licence again. Always the same place and always the same stuff. It's getting so the owner doesn’t need CCTV to identify the thief, just a polaroid picture next to the door.

The General Office was a bustle of activity as numerous police officers that filled a variety of descriptions, found reasons to be in there in the warm rather than outside patrolling or chasing down leads to whatever they had on their cards. Even with all the experienced and stalling officers about a senior hand came up to Luke’s desk and sat on it pushing Sam out to third place.

Don’t get yourself too dry, just had a call come in to a disturbance down on River Drive. said a tall broad man with a well developed SOB - Senior Officer’s Belly.

I’ve just been down there Guv’, looked quiet to me. replied Luke. Could it be another crank call?

We’re stretched as it is but this is the third call to that area tonight and I want you to either find out what’s going on down there or find the caller and do the speech about hoax calls with extreme proficiency and terminality.

With that, the pair were left to their tasks.

Ouch, Sam said. Bad luck, I’m going for my break, going to get this jungle tamed ready for the big one later.

She continued pulling at an overworked hair tie until her hair spilled out in a frizz. She was totally lost within the golden strands which brought a smile to the cold blue lips on Luke’s face.

Save the last doughnut for me. Luke said as he began strapping on his stab vest and equipment belts. Unless I succumb to pneumonia, that is.

The storm had brought down the power cables and plunged the row of respectable houses into darkness. It also had the benefit of bringing people together as they huddled around flickering candles, talking to each other with glasses of wine in their hands or in some houses even the children had come out of their dark rooms to join the rest of the family in conversation. They may have been praying for the reinstatement of power to continue their enjoyment of music, virtual world interaction, instant messaging or social media’ing to continue - often all at the same time.

Thirteen has a long tradition of being unlucky but to Grace it was the most magical number of all. This wasn’t exactly her dream home but it was the one she had fallen in love with as soon as Daniel carried her across the threshold jovially on the first showing by the agent. Daniel joked it was a practice for the day she had been planning for since she was twelve and from that moment on she considered that a proposal. The last three weeks had been hard work, what with clearing out the clutter from the last tenants who were evicted for reasons never discussed. The letting agent bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood on the first asking of that question and failed to mention some of the other pressing issues associated with the house. But the rent was cheap, very cheap, so a little painting and decorating on top of the mass clearout and huge amounts of maintenance inside and out didn’t seem such a burden. They, Daniel, Grace and Imogen, due to the sudden cessation of crackling electrical lights, decided to bring their endeavours to a temporary halt.

Do you want more wine? called Daniel from the room filled with boxes that could one day be better described as a kitchen. He selected a bottle at random as the light from his single slim candle now half gone didn’t illuminate anything past the mug pressed into service as a holder.

Yes please, sweetheart.

I wouldn’t say no either. came the duel replies from the next room.

Daniel walked back into the soon to be living room wincing as his socked foot trod onto an exposed screw head sitting proud from the uncarpeted floorboards. Then leaping majestically, or at least as majestically as someone who ached from every joint from days of early mornings and late nights scraping things before painting them a fresh could, to land comfortably onto a worn leather sofa. He poured a mug full of red wine and strummed on his acoustic guitar filling the echoing house with a bittersweet melody fuelled with emotion.

Is that my song? called Grace from the bedroom, It's beautiful.

It isn’t yet my love. replied Daniel noting down changes to the tune on a sheet of music grubby from the erasing of notation and numerous corrections. It’ll never be as beautiful as you.

A vision of beauty swept out of the bedroom in a long white flowing dress which hung perfectly over the female frame within it. Slender arms held an imaginary bouquet as she walked, the motion caused tiny ripples to flow over her the white silk and lace dress. It was cut to show off her best features, short sleeved to display her arms and low neck line which plunged to perfection under her long neck and firm breasts. To Daniel she was the very vision of Venus. There was but a second between the registering of the form in the room before she was upon him, kissing him deeply and full lipped, passing the taste of wine from one to the other.

You will make it beautiful before you play at our wedding. she said pulling herself in for another kiss. Daniel gently but firmly pushed her to an arm's length away before wiping the residue of the kiss onto his paint splattered sleeve.

If you think we’re getting married then you are as crazy as your sister. Daniel commented picking up his guitar and using it as a physical barrier between him and the woman in the white dress. She looked hurt then punched him on the arm grinning with white teeth showing.

A girl, the mirror of the former came out of the bedroom with hands clasped in delight. How did you know? she asked. Even Mum got confused sometimes.

Daniel looked at the two sisters who were now side by side and strikingly similar right down to the dimple that appeared on their respective right cheeks when they smiled. I will always know it's you my love. Daniel said looking deep into her eyes. The two girls looked at each other and shared ‘ahh’s’.

Even in the dress you knew the difference? he was asked.

Even in a dusty sack I would know you pair apart. What’s with the wedding dress? Isn’t it unlucky for me to see the dress before the big day? he replied.

Only if you saw me in it. answered Grace. There’s no mirror in this place yet and I wanted to see what I would look like in it with different hair and makeup.

Imogen spun around in the dress displaying the finery of needlework and fabric. You really can tell us apart every time? How?

Yeah, he continued. Grace is beautiful, kind and has a wicked spark in her eyes...oh and she has far nicer tits. before succumbing to the playful punching both started landing on him. They fell back onto the sofa and between them finished the bottle of wine.

A time passed with talk over futures and plans. Plans of weddings, parties and families full of joy but tinged with pain at the opportunities missed or never had. Daniel made the mistake of saying how much he regretted not having her parents at the wedding for which the girls looked at each other and instead of going over a lot of old ground they quickly changed the subject.

You know my sister fancied you long before I did. Grace said causing Imogen to glow and look away.

I know, but it was the beauty in the black dress and fingernails who won my heart.

A smashing sound from outside caused the trio to stop talking and look towards the large bay window. Daniel stood and strode towards it taking a handful of heavy curtain that hung either side of it in each hand and drew them apart enough to look through to the scene outside.

Is it those kids again? asked Imogen who had got off the sofa but hesitated to go any further.

I can’t see, it's too stormy to make anything out.

I’m going to call the police. said Grace. They can’t just come along here and terrorise everyone whenever they want too.

No don’t, it might just have been something blown over in the wind. advised Daniel. Or a cat.

Lightning flashed which lit up the barren room through the smallest of gaps around Daniel’s head and the hanging curtains. He leapt back springing off his back foot and into the room, Imogen squeaked in surprise.

What is it? called out Grace but the sounds never came out as the window crashed in sending glass fragments cascading into the room. A baseball bat struck through the curtains and heavy boots trampled them onto the floor.

What do you want? called Daniel. The question was never answered instead the bat was brought down against Daniel’s side causing him to bend. A vicious downward stroke felled him to the floor where a steel toe capped boot caused a sickening crack and pop as it met the skull.

Screaming, confusion, terror. Two more figures emerged through the gaping hole into the room from the rain. The first took hold of Imogen, punching hard into her face and kicking her falling body. The last figure splashed liquid from a can around laughing through cracked black teeth. Imogen threw up and held her ice cold burning stomach, consciousness faded and the last thing she saw as the blackness avalanched in was two men raining punches down onto her sister and pulling at her clothing.

The last man ignited a flare torch dancing wildly around the room hooting and howling gleefully. He pulled at the leather jacket on one of the men before banging him on the head with the blunt end of the flair to get his full attention.

Boss said fun after job. he said with a whining slur. And you know what kind of a bitch she is if she’s not happy.

Un momento por favor. but there was no moment as the heaviest set man leapt from his position zipped his trousers and slapped the flare to the floor burning the first man who showed his displeasure, but with the sudden combustion of flammable liquids spreading the flowing flames which grew with each passing heartbeat but he restricted his response to a short punch.

Smoke rolled against the fresh white paint on the ceiling. It expanded quickly, filling the small chamber pushing the black life ending cloud deep into the room until the intense radiance of the deflagration appeared to illuminate everything with its sheer brilliance. The thick layer of smoke momentarily touched the ground. For that briefest of times in that oppressive darkness of choking smog it appeared the worst had come. A muddy orange passed vertically through the smoke as the curtains caught fire and were eaten by the flames. Nothing happened and then an inrush of air as the fire that was starving caught its breath and…

A rolling ball of flame erupted from the breech in the window ripping the lengths of wood and remaining cracked glass out and sending them flying across the street. Even in the heavy storm the fire thrived as it greedily devoured the outside of the house taking hold of the first floor and under the eaves. More windows blew out to each side of the first as the fire in the house instantly became a house in flames.

People ran from where they were into the street wailing and calling for someone, anyone to do something. Eyes were driven to the floor as three ragged and unshaved men threw a white dress clad young woman into a battered and dented van. Two men followed her into the back and slammed the doors shut while the third ran to the driver’s door swinging punches at anyone too close. None struck a target, their energies used were more of a threat than to harm and to clear the way to the passenger side of the van. He slammed his door once inside. It swung open and he slammed it again and then a third time till the latch caught its bolt just as the driver coached the sputtering vehicle into life lurching it forward and jumping the curb, scattering the onlookers before turning back onto the road and heading out of town.

The rain had brought the external flames under something like control but not before a great deal of damage had been done. A screeching siren broke the despondent crowd into small groups who slunk away as the police car drew up sharply outside the burning edifice and the uniformed officer ran as close as he could to the radiating heat escaping therein. He stood and surveyed the scene with a heavy heart and inadequacy of options.

Mike Papa Control from Papa three three four. We need Fire on scene now. House 100% involved in fire, 13 Queensway I think. Back up needed.

Luke paused in his monologue into his personal radio. Get me an ambulance here now. he called, flecks of spittle flying from his lips. He ran to where flames leapt from the pulsing amber orange flames, a body lay on its side in a heap where it fell. Luke took hold of the steaming sleeves and pulled the body into the garden. The body although burnt was not burning now thanks to the falling torrent.

God, it's Daniel… Daniel, Sir, I came here to talk about the public disorder a few days ago, God what have you got into? What’s happened? Help is on the way. Mike Papa Control, one male casualty, approx 25 years of age unconscious barely breathing with burns and smoke inhalation. ETA for ambulance?" this last speech was aimed into the radio. Water ingress or atmospheric distortion rendered the reply into distortion and crackles.

Daniel’s eyelids fluttered as he responded to the interaction. He uttered a name through seared lips with parched breath that was inaudible. Luke knew enough that although he did not know the name he knew the relationship.

Your wife?

A shake of the head.

Your girlfriend? The girl that was with you when I came last?

This got a more positive response. A hand shook as it reached behind it, an action Luke recognised and assisted by reaching into the back pocket. It was roasted and the leather was charred, blistering to the touch. Luke dropped it into the sodden ground where it fell open to display a photo protected within its sleeve. It showed Daniel a little younger with his hands around a very attractive woman his match in years, she was kissing his cheek and grabbing his bum.

Daniel tried to collect the fallen wallet but his fingers were not now able to perform the task. He began to cry.

Is she in there? My God is there someone in there? Luke called loudly looking into the roaring barrier of flames. It was like looking into a sea of fire that lived on every surface. There was no space inside for anything that wasn’t flame. Nothing could survive within.

The Fire crews are on route and will be here soon, they will do what they can.

Do…. it was barely a word let alone a sentence.

I will. I promise, I will do something. but Luke knew there was very very little anyone could do now but pray.

The rain had stopped with the coming of the sun but did little to lift the mood which hung low like a sea fog. Firefighters moved through the wreckage damping down any hotspots not already dealt with by the slick mud or fire hose. Police officers were swarming over the street like ants across a dropped doughnut and for the same reasons, to get as much as they can grab and take back to feed the collective for the greater good. They individually might not like their task but they did it, approaching every door and talking to everyone who answered their repeated knocking. A wide officer in a rumpled brown suit and three days stubble walked over to Luke who was sat on the tailgate of an ambulance having wounds sustained in the line of duty cleaned under protest, the protest being he should be out doing something not sat here with the paramedic no matter how pretty and flirty she was. He leapt to his feet when he saw his superior approach.

Do we have anything Sir? he asked with enthusiasm.

No. And we won’t. Everyone were watching television loudly, even in the powercut, without seeing or hearing anything untoward outside. And although the ones who did answer the door were soaking wet, none of them left their little lives to look out on the bigger world tonight.

A cigarette moved to his lips and he lit it with a silver zippo lighter displaying the comical gesturing of a cartoon mouse. We’re not going to get anything and Fire are being as helpful as an STD nurse in a nunnery. O.K they believe it was arson with flammable liquid but any two year old on their potty can see that. The place is a mess, forensics won’t find anything and if they do all it’ll point to is some drugged up scum. You sorted? Good, now get back to the station and piss around with your report and sod off home.

Sir? But… Luke protested.

"We’re packing up, leaving enough resources here to look like we give a damn but we all know we’re screwed if we think anything is going to happen and we’re far too busy to piss our time up the wall here.

Luke opened his mouth but the brown suit and cigarette smoke walked away.

Mike Papa Control from papa three three four. Details of where male casualty from Queensway incident was taken. spoke Luke into his radio.

Papa three three four from Mike Papa Control. Casualty location All Saints Hospital. crackled the response.

Roger, Mike Papa Control.

Luke walked towards his car. Sam was waiting for him.

Anything? she asked.

No, only broken promises and missed opportunities. God that man lost his girl in that fire and we all know it's the pushers and drugheads that have moved into the area. I was down here last week after that man… Daniel, tried to clean up his neighbourhood by standing up to them and what did he get for his courage. Respect from his neighbours? No possibly a painful death, a shattered family and not a single one of those weak sheep will even give us a description of who did this. It’s not fair.

Fairness and justice? What matters is you saved him, or at least got him help. You can’t protect everybody and once the shine has come off that badge of yours you’ll start to realise that we’re there to do as we are told and to arrest anyone too drunk or stupid to run away.

Is that how you see it? Luke asked.

It's how it is. I’ve been in the Force a lot longer than you and something’s are just the way they are. I would love to go out and pick up every piece of murdering, threatening, abusing scum out there and throw them into a pit with all the drugheads and alchies and make this world a whole lot cleaner, but you know it isn’t like that. A few hours banged up is all they get before they walk out with an over paid solicitor in tow. she stopped and rounded on Luke. I can see this is getting to you, having someone suffer in your arms does that but just forget it will you or it’ll eat away at your soul like a cancer. Shit happens, look, we have small victories and we have small defeats, but in the greater scheme of things we do more good. The street gangs are getting worse, spreading out looking for greater space but it's not the dross we need to arrest to stop it because there are hundreds who’ll take their place for a scrap of the stuff they push, it’s the scum that’s supplying them with the death they sell and who they get it from that we need to get to otherwise nothing will change. And even then….

There was a pause, Luke wanted to kick out and scream his frustrations away.

Do you fancy a drink after work? asked Sam. We both finished hours ago but you my friend need a shower, you smell worse than a sewer.

Cans were crushed into the gutter under the bald tyres as the van leaned heavily on its broken suspension causing the riders who were unstable at the best of times to pitch over inside.

No, no es aceptable you piece of claro mierda. Can’t you drive man? You need to get this fixed. sweat poured from his tanned forehead and he picked at his rotting teeth pulling a glob of stringy meat hanging between the rough yellowed surfaces. He was shaking. I need a drink amigo, go faster.

Anxo, you need something more than a drink. Now shut up I’m busy. the baseball bat owning thug said holding on tight to the side of the rocking van. He was sat on the unconscious body dressed in the long white wedding dress. He withdrew a smartphone from his jacket pocket, it was scratched and a long crack running the length of the screen scuffed at his blistered fingers as they traced a line across the screen before dialling the top number on the contacts list. The phone rang before being picked up.

Yes. it was a female voice distorted by the damaged speaker on the phone.

It's Rancid. We have her and comin’ in now. You have our stuff? And I want a new baseball bat, I lost mine and it was signed by Mickey.

The only Mickey to sign that rough stick was a mouse mi amigo, laughed Anxo spitting brown saliva onto the rust forming the majority of the vehicle's floor.

The hand gripping the phone smashed it into Anxo’s face. The damaged screen finally giving up. And now you owe me a phone you Spanish turd.

A gelatinous lump of red tinged phlegm landed next to the brown stain, it contained hard shards.

An’ you owe me a tooth.

The van lurched and bounced with a swerve towards a large puddle on the other side of the road sending a wave of greasy grey water over an elderly couple who scurried away. The mood in the van lifted as they grew in amusement.

It can only be described as a dive, the building was run down with eroded brick and boarded up windows. The large forecourt was a mess of broken tarmac, weeds grew around lakes of old engine oil. Motorcycles stretched in lines on stands or dumped in a heap over to one side. Rats ran freely. The van bumped into the brick retaining wall that circled its way around the carpark in various states of repair. The driver skipped round the van after exiting and opened the rear doors where he was joined by the other two. Between them they took up the prone body in white and carried her into the building through chipboard covered doors leaving the van doors open to swing in the remains of the wind.

Music played inside but it was drowned out by