Mike pleaded some more with Dev and Bonesy as they followed Martin away into the pitch black at one side of the clearing. All the bravado had gone from him, his voice rising and falling like a whining child. Tom eventually shut him up by picking up a large stone and pretending to throw it at him several times while performing tongue-out cackling.
Bonesy had to be in a nightmare. He couldn’t fathom that he was digging a grave for the village ice cream man who was alive and healthy fifty yards away. Dev grizzled quietly alongside him, completely overwhelmed by the murderous task. John had been assigned guard duties as they dug in case they had any aspirations of running off or plotting something equally cowardly. The mud was easy to dig at first as the storm had turned the ground to brown sorbet for the first few inches, but it was getting more difficult.
Owyn watched Mike, who had now gone silent and was staring ahead, his legs outstretched and head resting back on the log. Tom was perched near his shoulder smoking a cigarette. Martin was still trying to persuade Finn in simple words and tones that they were doing the right thing. Owyn had zoned out. The only thing on his mind now was saving Mike’s life. He focused on regulating his breathing. He pushed his raging anxiety from his chest down through the trunk of his body, into his legs and out through his feet into the quagmire.
I’m just gonna give you one job, said Martin to Finn. He reached into his back pocket and handed Finn a wooden handled knife. Finn held it up. When the job’s done, continued Martin, all you have to do is cut this fella loose from the log, understand? Finn nodded, turning and studying the knife, looking for all intents and purposes like the perfect little serial killer in training. Martin ruffled Finn’s hair and shouted across to John, asking how long they’d be and to hurry up. John shouted something back, but it was taken away by the wind. Martin cursed and instructed Tom to keep an eye on everything. He marched over towards John.
Owyn willed himself to have telepathy so he could silently tell Finn what was happening was wrong; that he didn’t have to play a part and that it wasn’t too late to stop all of them from doing something they’d regret forever. Finn clicked the knife closed and saw Owyn staring at him. You don’t have to do this, Finn. Owyn spirited the words from his mind to Finn’s. It was only when he saw Tom flick his cigarette away and jump down from the log, and Mike turn towards him in surprise, that he realised he’d said it out loud.
You’ve either lost your bottle or your mind, said Tom, grabbing Owyn by the throat. Have you forgotten what this monster did to my sister… your… girlfriend… and you’re on about what my little brother shouldn’t do to help avenge it?
None of us have to do anything, said Owyn. This isn’t a game, Tom. We’ve caught him, kept him prisoner and knocked him about. If we hand him over to the cops, they’ll put him away for a long time. You can even bash him up a bit more first, but killing him… petrol…?
Tom put his face against Owyn’s. Another word about sapping out and we’ll put you in that hole over there with him, right?
I don’t want Martin to kill him, Tommy. Finn was hyperventilating and had tears cutting little trails through the dirt on his cheeks. Tom stepped away from Owyn and slapped Finn hard. Finn cried out and held his face. Tom grabbed him by the ear.
YOU’RE A NAIL AND YOU BETTER START ACTING LIKE ONE YA LITTLE PANSY.
Finn cried louder and Owyn felt something shifting in him. When he had been around Finn’s age, his dad had taken him into the lamp room at the colliery to show him the equipment. It was a hub for all the gear the miners used down the pit. It reminded Owyn of the village library, with rows of battered old wooden bookcases, only instead of books there were hundreds of miners’ lamps all in neat rows from floor to ceiling. What struck Owyn was how immaculately they were stacked alongside each other with care and precision. The coal dust ingrained in the wooden shelves and crunching below his feet suggested the lamps could easily have been just thrown back after a punishing day’s graft, all gouged and chipped and topsy-turvy. But they weren’t. Every single one had been wiped clean and placed in its little charging frame bolt upright like a soldier standing to attention.
Owyn had wandered the aisles while Dad talked to the man in charge at the desk where the equipment was signed in and out. He looked for any lamps out of place, or even a fraction lopsided, but they were all in uniform neatness. When he’d come to the end of one of the rows, he checked that Dad wasn’t looking. He’d been told not to touch anything, but he couldn’t resist switching one on. He’d clicked the little button, and the bright beam had blinded him for a moment. The light spot had stayed in his vision for a few seconds after he switched it off, and even longer when he blinked a few times.
That’s what he felt stirring inside now: the simple click of a switch that dimmed his outlook on the world around him, even if only for a few moments. He remembered what Dad had told him about how to punch – about keeping his arm close to his side, thumb facing the ground and driving through with his shoulder, like you were aiming for something behind the bully’s head.
Tom, said Owyn steelily. Tom turned with a snarl, thinking he was ready and willing for anything. Owyn drew his arm back with lightning speed and brought it forward with everything he had. Tom’s face had a split second to register the incoming fist before it connected with his nose and teeth with a dull crack. His head jerked back and he crumpled to his knees, letting out a gurgling squeal as his mouth filled with blood. Owyn followed through with his knee. It connected with the side of Tom’s head and he splashed to the flooding ground.
Finn gasped and stared at his fallen sibling. Owyn held his hand out and Finn fearfully placed the knife in it. Owyn ran over to Mike, who was now sitting forward, his eyes on stalks and mouth open in disbelief. He started to say no, no, no as Owyn pulled out the blade and came for him, but Owyn hopped over the log and started sawing at the ropes.
You alright, Tommy? bawled Finn, kneeling to tend to his brother. Tom gurgled something through his bloodied teeth. Finn leaned in to hear, then stood and shouted. MARTIN! HE’S LETTING HIM GO!
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