Twenty-three. Callie 1 page

Several loud bangs sounded, like lots of cars backfiring in quick succession. Each noise made me jump. I looked around. The whole world reduced speed to ultra slowmotion. Every colour, every sensation was heightened except . . . except all I could hear now was my heart strumming. The world was slow, my heartbeat was fast. Strange combination.

All around us, people scattered like points on a compass. I could see their mouths move, watch their frantic expressions, but still the only sound was my own heartbeat, growing ever faster. It was like a drum inside me beating its own time. What on earth was going on? I looked around. Men with guns. Men with guns on either side of the pitch, shooting at each other. And all of us in the middle.

Get down, Callie.

Drop down.

Get down. NOW.

Two Cross men had their guns drawn and were shooting past us in the direction of the road behind us. I turned just in time to see McAuley, sitting in the back of his car, the back window all the way down. Flashes flared from inside the car. Bullets? Bullets. My head turned this way and that. Tobey was shouting at me, his mouth moving oh so slowly, too slowly to make out the words. But he was trying to tell me something important, something urgent. That much was evident in his eyes. And he was pulling at me.

Stop pulling me.

Dan was already on the ground.

GET DOWN, CALLIE . . .

From inside his car, McAuley fired his gun. And his gun was pointing straight at us. The gun jerked in McAuley's hand. He'd fired. And again. I didn't have time to warn Tobey or push him out the way. I stepped in front of him.

Twenty-four. Tobey

'Godsake, Callie. Get down.' I hit the floor, trying to pull Callie with me, but she stood stock-still in front of me, staring across the park. I scrambled in front of her, pulling harder on her arm. Furious, I looked up at her, wondering why the hell she wasn't moving. Godsake! Bullets were now whizzing around us like mosquitoes round a blood bank. Godsake . . . Callie looked down at me. And that's when my world crashed to an abrupt halt.

A dark crimson stain was spreading out over the front of Callie's sky-blue shirt. More gunshots. Something glanced off the side of Callie's head and she toppled, her body falling like a house of playing cards.

'CALLIE . . .' I threw my body over hers, trying to protect her from stray bullets. McAuley's car screeched down the road, burning rubber as it went. The two Cross men who'd made a great show of strolling across the grass towards us were now racing back to their own car. Moments later, they too screeched out of sight. Everyone ran for their lives. Dan, who'd dived down beside me at the sound of the first bullet being fired, picked himself up and bolted. Within moments there was no one left on the Wasteland except me and Callie.

I sat up, pulling Callie with me. The crimson stain was growing bigger, covering more of Callie's shirt. There was a circular hole on the left-hand side of her shirt, just below her shoulder. Blood ran down the side of her head, from her temple past her ears.

'HELP US! SOMEONE HELP US!' I yelled out.

Callie's eyes were closed and her breath left her nose and mouth with a strange rattling sound. I looked around at all the closed windows of the flats and houses that surrounded the Wasteland on three sides.

'PLEASE. SOMEONE HELP . . .' I pulled Callie to me, rocking her back and forth in my arms as we both sat on the ground.

Digging into my trouser pocket, I brought out my phone with one hand, laying it on the ground so I could dial the emergency services for an ambulance without letting go of Callie.

'Callie, hang on,' I whispered in her ear. 'Help will soon be here. Just hang on.'

The clouds separated and sunlight bathed us, so bright I was momentarily blinded. The rattling sound Callie was making suddenly stopped. No . . . She lay limp in my arms. And her sudden silence was far, far worse. In the distance I could hear the sound of a siren. Someone somewhere must've phoned for help after all.

'Callie?' I whispered.

She lay so still, like a broken doll. My hands and clothes were covered with her blood. I hugged her to me, her cheek against mine, rocking her gently back and forth.

I've got you, Callie. I've got you. I'll never let you go. Never.

You and me, babe, against the world.

Twenty-five. Tobey

The hospital corridor smelled strongly of disinfectant. Irregular beeps sounded all around me. Footsteps constantly hurried past me, but no one stopped. They wouldn't let me stay with Callie, no matter how much I pleaded. The paramedics who arrived in the ambulance didn't even want me to travel with them, but I held onto Callie's hand like we were super-glued together. Once we arrived at the hospital, Callie was whisked away to theatre. A nurse took me into a small room and asked me a number of questions about Callie's medical history, most of which I couldn't answer. I phoned Callie's mum, but she wasn't answering her mobile so I had to leave a message. I phoned Callie's home, but Meggie wasn't in either. No one was where they were supposed to be. All I could do was leave messages to say that Callie had been shot and was undergoing emergency surgery at Mercy Community Hospital. Not the sort of message I wanted to leave, but what choice did I have? I was ushered into the waiting room, which was heaving with people. There were no more available chairs so I leaned against the wall, texting my mum to let her know what had happened as I knew her phone would be switched off whilst she was working. She was somewhere in this hospital, but I didn't go looking for her. I needed to stay put so I could find out how Callie was doing the moment she was out of surgery.

Callie had been shot.

She might die.

Please don't let her die . . .

Even now I was still trying to work out what had happened. Images flashed like a series of snapshots in my head. The two Cross men in the fancy white car, they had to work for the Dowds. And McAuley and his men turning up at the Wasteland at exactly the same time, there was no way that was a mere coincidence. It hadn't kicked off in Meadowview like that in years. And now Callie was fighting for her life with a bullet in her. Maybe two. It was only just beginning to sink in.

Please don't let me lose her. Not now.

Not now . . .

Some instinct had me looking up, then around. My instincts hadn't let me down. Two officers were fast approaching, weaving their way through the others in the waiting room to get to me. They both wore suits, but I knew they were the police. One was a middle-aged Cross, the other a younger Nought, in his mid-twenties at a guess. The middle-aged Cross copper already wore a smile beneath his pencil-thin moustache. His dark eyes were watchful and shrewd. The Nought copper wore his blond hair buzz-cut. They got closer, their eyes never leaving mine. They were poised – that's the only word for it, poised – like they thought I was about to do a runner. I straightened up off the wall, then stayed perfectly still. When at last they reached me, they both stood directly in front of me. I wasn't going anywhere, even if I wanted to.

'You're the one who came in with the gunshot victim?' asked the Cross copper.

I nodded. 'Her name is Callie Hadley.'

The Cross copper extended his hand. 'I'm DI Omari Boothe. This is Sergeant Paul Kenwood.'

Warily, I shook the detective's hand. Sergeant Kenwood nodded in my direction, his blue eyes frosty, his hands staying firmly at his sides.

'What's your name, son?' asked the detective inspector, his tone even, as if he was asking for the time. Sergeant Kenwood dug out a notebook and pen from his pocket and flicked it open decisively.

'Tobey Durbridge.'

'Age?'

'Seventeen.'

'When are you eighteen?'

'In two months.' Why did he need to know that?

'Address?'

I told him.

'And the girl you came in with, you said her name is Callie Hadley?'

'Callie Rose Hadley, yes.'

'D'you know her address?'

'She lives next door to me in Johnstone Street, at number fifty-five.'

Sergeant Kenwood was scribbling furiously in his notebook, even though I hadn't said much.

'Can you tell us what happened?' asked Detective Boothe.

'I'm still not quite sure.' I shook my head. 'One moment Callie and I were watching a football match and the next moment bullets were whizzing round us like midges. It all happened so fast. A matter of seconds.'

'And where was this?'

'The pitch at the Wasteland.' I glanced at Sergeant Kenwood. He had yet to say a word. Perhaps they were playing chatty cop, silent cop.

'Who was doing the shooting?' asked the detective.

'No idea. When the bullets started flying, I was just trying to keep my head down.'

'What was Callie doing?'

'She was standing in front of me. I think . . . I think she froze.'

'How many gunshots were there in total?'

I shrugged. No idea.

'Under five? Under ten? Under fifteen?' prompted Detective Boothe.

'Maybe under ten,' I replied. 'I wasn't exactly trying to count them.'

'Did the shots all come from one direction or different directions?'

Careful, Tobey . . . I considered. 'Different directions, I think. That's why they seemed to be all around us. But I can't be sure.'

'Did you see any cars in the vicinity?'

I frowned at Detective Boothe and shook my head. 'I was watching the football match, so I wasn't paying attention to anything but that.'

'You didn't see anything?'

'No. Sorry.'

'Is Callie Hadley a friend of yours?'

'Yes,' I said warily. 'She's my girlfriend.'

Sergeant Kenwood snorted derisively at my words.

'D'you have a problem with that?' I asked belligerently.

'No. But she does, if you're the best she can do,' Sergeant Kenwood retorted. He looked at me like he wasn't looking at much. 'If that was my girlfriend lying on an operating table with a bullet or two in her, I'd want to get the bastard who did it. But all you Noughts in Meadowview have acute three-monkeys disease – see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.'

'All us Noughts in Meadowview have to live here when the police are nowhere around,' I replied.

'We can protect you,' said Detective Boothe quickly. 'You and your family, if that's what's worrying you.'

'I don't need protecting because I didn't see anything,' I insisted. 'I wish I had, but I didn't.'

The two coppers exchanged a look. They didn't believe a word.

'Is there anything else you can tell us about what happened?' asked the detective.

Pause.

'I—'

'Tobey? Tobey.' Callie's mum, Sephy, made a bee-line for me. 'What happened? Where's my daughter?'

'She's still in surgery,' I explained at once. 'I'm waiting to hear more.'

'You're Mrs Hadley?' asked DI Boothe, surprised.

'Miss Hadley,' Sephy corrected.

Both coppers looked Sephy up and down, before turning their speculative gaze to me.

'This boy claims that your daughter is his girlfriend,' said Sergeant Kenwood.

'She is,' Sephy dismissed. 'They've been friends for years. Could someone please tell me what's going on? Tobey, your message said Callie had been shot.'

'Your daughter was caught in the crossfire during an earlier incident,' said the detective before I could reply. 'I'm just trying to ascertain the facts from this boy, who was with your daughter at the time. But he claims he didn't see a thing.'

'Tobey?' Sephy turned to me, her eyes blazing, frown lines like train tracks marring her face.

'Don't you think I would say something if I could?' I protested.

'I don't know,' said Sephy. 'Would you?'

We regarded each other. I had to force myself not to look away. We both knew the way things worked in Meadowview.

'I need to see my daughter,' Sephy said at last, turning away from me. But not before I caught the intense disappointment clouding her eyes. It stung.

'Miss Hadley, if we could ask you one or two questions first,' insisted DI Boothe.

'Your questions will have to wait. I want to see my daughter,' Sephy insisted.

'It'll just take a minute, I assure you,' said the detective. 'Could we start by confirming your address, please?'

They led the way out of the waiting room. I could see their silhouettes through the frosted-glass window, but I was too far away to hear a word. I edged closer so that I wouldn't be across the room when Sephy came looking for me. I stood near the doorway, dreading the inevitable. After a minute or two, she came back into the waiting room, alone. My heart bounced at her approach. I knew full well what was coming.

'Tobey, I don't want any crap from you,' Sephy warned me, her voice hard with intent. 'Tell me what happened. And the truth this time.'

We regarded each other. Even though I towered over her, she still scared me to death. I admit it. Sephy was a lioness trying to protect her offspring and I was getting in her way.

'It's like I told the coppers, I hit the deck and stayed there when the bullets started flying.'

'And you didn't think to pull my daughter down with you?'

'I tried. It all happened so fast,' I said feebly.

'Did you see who did the shooting?'

I didn't reply. I couldn't lie to her, but there was no way I could answer the question either.

'Tobey, I asked you a question. Who was doing the shooting?'

Silence.

'I see,' Sephy said quietly. 'You told those police officers that Callie was your girlfriend. Did you mean a girl who just happens to be your friend or did you mean something more than that?'

'I meant both,' I replied quietly.

'But not enough of a friend for you to man up and do the right thing?'

'That's not fair—'

'Fair?' Sephy leaped on the word. 'My daughter has been shot. She could die. Don't you dare talk to me about "fair".'

What could I say to that? Nothing. Sephy looked me up and down, her expression bathing me with complete contempt.

'You know what? Callie can do without your so-called friendship. So why don't you go home? You're no use to anyone here. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find out what's happening to my daughter.'

She was already turning round and heading out of the waiting room to find the nearest doctor or nurse. I caught up with her.

'I'll come with you.'

'No, you won't, Tobey,' Sephy turned to tell me. 'If you don't think enough of my daughter to tell the police who did this to her, then I have no use for you, and neither has Callie. Go home.'

Without waiting for my reply, Sephy strode away. After a few steps, she turned back with a look in her eyes I'd never seen before.

'Oh, and Tobey?'

'Yes?'

'You're no longer welcome in my house.' Sephy regarded me to ensure I'd got the message.

'Yes, Miss Hadley.'

The Fall . . .

Twenty-six

'Tobey, can I come in?' Mum's voice was soft outside my door.

I didn't answer.

'Tobey, please.'

Silence.

I heard Mum sigh, but she respected the fact that my door was firmly closed and headed back downstairs. Mum had been knocking on my bedroom door at periodic intervals all morning – ever since she'd got in from work. How I wished she'd give up and leave me alone. I sat on the floor in the corner of my room directly opposite the door. I'd been sitting there ever since I'd arrived home the night before, with one knee drawn up, the other leg flat against the carpeted floor. In my left hand, my fingers worked at the super ball I usually kept on my desk. It was the size of a large marble and decorated with swirls of different shades of green and brown. Callie had given me the thing years ago, I can't even remember why. I hadn't moved from this corner all night, only shifting positions slightly when one leg or the other threatened to go numb. I'd never watched the dawn break before. In the middle of the night, the dark seemed so dense, it was easy to believe it would perpetually paint my room. But the grey-blue light had pushed slowly but irrevocably against every shadow until they were all but gone.

And whilst watching the arrival of dawn, I'd been thinking. I'd been thinking a lot.

Callie's mum Sephy considered me gutless, as did the police. I wasn't about to argue with them. In spite of what Sephy had said to me the night before, I'd stayed at the hospital until Callie was out of surgery. I didn't sit with Callie's mum. She made it very clear that I wasn't wanted anywhere near her. I listened on the periphery when the surgeon finally arrived to tell us what was happening. Callie had been shot twice, once in the chest and one bullet had glanced off her temple. The bullet in her chest was out, but Callie was still in a critical condition.

'Callie has lost a lot of blood and there's considerable tissue damage, so she's not out of the woods yet. The bullet that entered her chest missed her heart by about a centimetre,' said Mr Bunch, the Cross surgeon. 'And the bullet that caught her temple caused a hairline fracture of her skull, but at least the bullet didn't penetrate. However, the next forty-eight hours will be crucial.'

'Can I see her?' I stepped forward to ask.

'She'll be unconscious for quite some time,' the surgeon warned me.

'I need to see her,' I insisted.

'No,' Sephy began. 'I don't think so . . .'

'Please, Sephy. Please.'

Sephy emphatically shook her head.

'I'll camp outside Callie's room or the ward or the hospital building if I have to until you change your mind,' I said desperately. 'Please let me see her. Please.'

Sephy scrutinized me for several seconds. Her gaze slid away from mine and a frown appeared across her forehead. When at last she looked at me again, she nodded, albeit reluctantly. I wondered what had made her change her mind, but I wasn't about to push my luck by asking. Mr Bunch led the way to the Intensive Care Unit. Callie was in a room by herself, the closest one to the nurses' station.

Nothing could've adequately prepared me for what I was about to see. Callie Rose was hooked up to all kinds of monitors and beeping machines. She had plastic tubing running into her mouth and an IV drip, plus a blood bag running into her arm. Her head was swathed in a bandage. Her whole body seemed so much smaller, like she'd shrunk in on herself. And all the paraphernalia around her was overwhelming. She was almost lost in the middle of it all.

I walked over to her and stroked the back of her hand which lay above the white sheets. For a long time I could do nothing but look down at her. Then I bent and whispered in her ear before kissing her forehead. I straightened up slowly, unable to take my eyes off her face. She looked fragile as crystal, like one more knock and she would irrevocably shatter.

Callie Rose, forgive me . . .

I took hold of her cold hand and held it in my own, never wanting to let it go. You see it in films and on the TV all the time. Someone's in trouble, dying, and their mum or dad or partner or best mate makes all kinds of promises and begs anyone who'll listen to swap places. Well, that's what I did. I would've swapped places with Callie quicker than a thought. But no one was listening. She remained in the bed, hooked up to all those machines. I stood beside her, helpless.

My throat had swollen up, making it difficult for me to catch my breath.

Callie, if you can hear me, please . . .

But before I could finish my silent plea, the rhythm in the room changed. Where the monitors were beeping slow and steady before, now there was just a continuous droning hum coming from them. An alarm began to sound. Suddenly the room was full and I was shoved backwards out of the way. The pillow was whipped out from beneath Callie's head as a wave of doctors and nurses appeared from nowhere to swarm over her. And a continuous flat line continued its slide across the heart monitor. Sephy tried to get closer to her daughter, but they wouldn't let her stay either. The door was closed behind both of us. Sephy watched through the small window, her fists clenched against the pane as if she wanted to batter at it. She turned to me, her dark-brown eyes blazing.

'You . . .' she hissed. If words could kill, that one accusatory word would've butchered me where I stood. 'Who did this? Tell me!'

I looked through the window at the doctors and nurses still trying to resuscitate Callie, before turning back to Callie's mum. What would she do if I told her? Sephy was tough – with everything she'd been through in her life, she had to be. But she was no match for the Dowds or McAuley and his hired muscle-heads. If she went after them, which she undoubtedly would, Callie would end up an orphan . . . if Callie survived. No. When Callie survived. She just had to make it, and so did her mum. In that moment, I made my choice.

'I can't say 'cause I don't know.' The small words were outsized and razor-sharp in my mouth.

Sephy turned away from me. At that instant I ceased to be for her. We had nothing else to say to each other. I turned away and left the ICU and the hospital.

My grip on the super ball tightened. It wasn't like in films and games and on the TV. What had happened at the Wasteland hadn't been choreographed into chaotic elegance. No make-up person had drawn in cuts and bruises. No costume person had decided which knee of which pair of jeans needed to be torn. The bullets started flying, everyone started screaming and scattering and diving to the ground. The cuts and bruises had been all too real. Torn jeans and dirt-stained clothes had happened spontaneously. And the blood on Callie hadn't been sprayed on. It'd been pumped out. There was no one to shout: 'Cut. Great take,' or 'Let's do it again. Action.' Only now, for the first time, did I truly realize what Mum meant when she kept insisting that 'Life is not a dress rehearsal'. There were no rewrites, no retakes, no re-do icon to click on. Callie had been shot. Real life was agonizingly hard to handle. Real life was just agonizing.

I couldn't get the image of Callie lying on that hospital bed out of my head. I knew I never would. No one told me that helplessness made you feel so minuscule. At school, at work, even here in my own bedroom, I occupied very little space. Was it so wrong to want just a little bit more from life? I'd convinced myself that that was what Dan had been offering. Just a little bit more than I already had. And now everything had fallen to pieces. I stayed in my room throughout the night and most of the morning, only leaving when I needed to go to the loo. I didn't eat, I didn't sleep, I couldn't think straight. Jessica and Mum left me alone for the most part. Mum put a plate of ham sandwiches outside my door, even though I'd called out after at least ten minutes of her cajoling me to eat that I wasn't hungry. To get her off my back, I even tried one, but it was like chewing a crumpled-up page of printer paper. It didn't taste of anything and it wouldn't go down. So I spat it out into my bin and gave up. I greeted the following night lying on top of my bed, staring up at my ceiling. Closing my eyes, I waited for sleep to come and get me. But it was as if a switch had been flicked on inside my head and now my brain wouldn't stop whirling.

McAuley.

It had been McAuley's car at the Wasteland. McAuley's men had walked towards us on the football pitch. McAuley's men had shot first. And the two Cross guys who'd returned fire, they had to work for the Dowds. Was the shootout planned between them? Somehow I didn't think so. If they wanted to shoot it out, they could find somewhere better than a public park. So why had both groups turned up at the Wasteland? It didn't make sense. They weren't there to kill each other. One set of gangsters had to be there for another reason entirely. And the other lot – well they were there by either luck or design. I didn't know anything about the Dowds, except by reputation. They were ruthless and deadly when crossed, just like McAuley. All I knew about McAuley were the stories about him that were common knowledge and the things I'd learned from Dan. Had McAuley's men been after Dan? That didn't make sense. Dan had been working for McAuley for ages now. Dan and his deliveries. My luck had seriously run out from the time I agreed to . . . to . . .

Deliveries.

Ross Resnick.

I'd delivered the parcel to Ross Resnick's wife, just like Dan had asked. Was that the reason McAuley came after Dan? Because Dan should've delivered the package himself ?

Or maybe . . . just maybe McAuley was after me?

Had Dan told McAuley what I'd said about not taking the fall alone if the police came knocking at my door? Was that what this was all about? Did McAuley decide I was far too dangerous to him? Godsake! I'd said a lot, but I hadn't meant it. It was just a lot of angry hot air released on the spur of the moment. I mean, as if I could take on McAuley. He had to know that I couldn't touch him. But McAuley and his men had evidently decided they needed to take care of business. McAuley'd be safe and I'd be too dead to be sorry. Was McAuley after both Dan and me? Was that the idea, to kill two birds with one stone? Or maybe I was the only one who was expendable. Either way, McAuley wanted me gone. Permanently.

That was the only explanation that made sense.

The only thing I didn't understand was how the Dowd family thugs had turned up at the same time. How did they know what McAuley had planned? There was no way they would've turned up just to save my sorry hide. They didn't know me, and even if they did, I meant less than nothing to them.

I sought out some other more rational, reasonable explanation for what had happened – but there was none. The more I thought about McAuley coming after me, the more it seemed right.

The question was, what was I going to do about it?

As long as McAuley perceived me to be a threat, I was up shit creek with both hands and feet tied. I might as well just paint a bloody great target on my back. Is that how Dan was feeling? Where was he now? Hiding out somewhere? Or did he know he wasn't the intended target? Was he going to do a runner?

At long last, after three a.m., I finally passed out. It didn't last long. A couple of hours, according to my alarm clock. And no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get back to sleep.

Blood running down Callie's skin, spreading out across her blue T-shirt . . .

Blood running down the side of Callie's face . . .

Callie's eyes closing as she toppled over in front of me . . .

Gunshots like fireworks exploding all around us . . .

Those were the nightmares that forced me awake. Those were the images in my head that wouldn't leave, even with my eyes open. Especially with my eyes open. There was only one thing I could do. It was so dangerous – and not just for me but for those around me – but what choice did I have?

I had two options. I could either run and never stop, or I could get McAuley, before he got me.

Get McAuley?

Get real. Why didn't I stop all the wars on the planet and cure all diseases known to humankind whilst I was at it?

Get McAuley . . .

But I had to at least try. I owed Callie that much. He had to pay for what he'd done. And it was a simple matter of McAuley or me. What was that saying about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer? Experience was the greatest teacher. I had to get close to McAuley, convince him that I wasn't a threat.

And then it would be my turn.

There was one more week left before the school term ended. Not that it mattered. One week or one month, I just couldn't go back. My plans had to be changed completely. I had other matters to take care of now. I broke out my phone and speed-dialled. It took a good twenty seconds before my call was finally answered.

'Hi, Tobey,' said Dan before I could say a word. 'How are you? You OK? That was some shit on Saturday, yeah?'

Dan's tone was all friendly concern. It took a couple of moments before I could muster up a reply.

'Dan, I need to see you.'

'We're meeting this evening for football practice, so I'll see you then,' Dan pointed out. 'And we missed you at our football match yesterday.'

After everything that'd happened, that was all he had to say to me? My grip tightened around my mobile phone.

Date: 2015-12-18; view: 516