wearing a police anti-stab vest, the other a grubby pair of red tracksuit bottoms and a faded khaki sweatshirt. Both of them, like Walter, with lank hair tied back into a ponytail and a face of unshaven bristles.
‘Out of our fuckin’ way,’ snapped one of them. ‘He’s going to die.’
Walter realised he was trembling; the end of the shotgun’s barrel was jittering around for everyone to see.
‘You just . . . just bloody well stay back!’ shouted Walter, breathing deeply, shakily, the air whistling in and out of his bulbous nose.
One of the men looked up at him and shook his head dismissively. ‘Shut the fuck up, you old fart.’
The man in the stab vest took a quick step forward and lowered his gun at the foreign man on the floor. ‘This is how we deal with dirty fucking Paki wankers.’
The wounded man screwed his eyes shut and uttered the beginnings of a prayer in French.
‘You . . . y-you can’t just . . . shoot him,’ cut in Jacob. ‘It’s not right.’
‘Yeah?’ said stab vest. ‘Is that right, son? Am I infringing his fucking human rights?’
Jacob swallowed nervously. He nodded. ‘It’s just not . . . you can’t!’
‘Yeah? You get in my way I’ll do you next, you little prick.’ The man levelled his gun at the Frenchman’s head. ‘Fuckin’ scum like this . . . only way to deal with—’
Walter’s shotgun suddenly boomed, snapping stab-vest’s head back and throwing a long tendril of hair, blood, brains and skull up into the air. The other man looked up, startled, and swung his weapon towards the old man.
Instinctively Nathan squeezed several rounds off from his assault rifle. Only one of his shots landed home, punching the man at the base of his throat. His knees buckled and he dropped to the ground like a sack full of coconuts.
‘Oh, fuck!!’ whispered Walter. ‘Oh, fuck,’ he wheezed, ‘I didn’t bloody mean to. Damn thing just went off in my hand!’
Red tracksuit’s legs scissored on the ground as he gurgled noisily, his hands clasped around his throat as if throttling himself, blood quickly pooling on the gritty concrete beneath him.
‘Walter . . .’ said Kevin from the back of the boat. He stood up, eager to clamber ashore and get a closer look at the mess. ‘You blew his head off!’
‘Dammit! Kevin, sit down and be quiet!’ snapped David.
‘Oh, shit, man!’ said Nathan, his features ashen. ‘He’s dying! What - what the fuck are we gonna do?’
They watched the man squirm on the ground for a moment.
‘We have to do something!’ shouted Jacob. ‘He’s bleeding everywhere! ’
Walter stared, dumbfounded, smoke still curling from the barrel of his shotgun.
‘He’s dying,’ said Bill. ‘We can’t help him.’
Walter nodded.
‘We could take him back to Dr Gupta,’ said Jacob bending down to peer at the man convulsing on the ground.
‘Don’t be stupid!’ snapped David. ‘He’s bleedin’ out! He’ll be dead before we get him back.’
The sound of the man’s gurgling, bubbling breath filled the space between them.
‘Then, shit, we ought to . . .’ Nathan started, looking at the others. ‘You know? We can’t leave him like this!’
Walter nodded, finally roused from a state of shock. ‘Yes . . . Christ. Yes, I-I suppose you’re right,’ he said quietly. He placed the shotgun carefully down on the ground and tugged the assault rifle out of Nathan’s rigid hands.
‘Best close your eyes, mate,’ he said to the man on the ground.
The man struggled to say something. Bubbles and strangled air whistled out through the jagged hole in his throat, whilst his mouth flapped uselessly.
‘Look away, boys,’ he said to the others.
Walter aimed, closed his own eyes and fired.
Chapter 9
10 years AC
‘LeMan 49/25a’ - ClarenCo Gas Rig Complex, North Sea
J enny looked down and watched Dr Tamira Gupta take charge of lifting the wounded man out of the boat. Tamira - ‘Tami’ as she was more commonly known - small
‘Out of our fuckin’ way,’ snapped one of them. ‘He’s going to die.’
Walter realised he was trembling; the end of the shotgun’s barrel was jittering around for everyone to see.
‘You just . . . just bloody well stay back!’ shouted Walter, breathing deeply, shakily, the air whistling in and out of his bulbous nose.
One of the men looked up at him and shook his head dismissively. ‘Shut the fuck up, you old fart.’
The man in the stab vest took a quick step forward and lowered his gun at the foreign man on the floor. ‘This is how we deal with dirty fucking Paki wankers.’
The wounded man screwed his eyes shut and uttered the beginnings of a prayer in French.
‘You . . . y-you can’t just . . . shoot him,’ cut in Jacob. ‘It’s not right.’
‘Yeah?’ said stab vest. ‘Is that right, son? Am I infringing his fucking human rights?’
Jacob swallowed nervously. He nodded. ‘It’s just not . . . you can’t!’
‘Yeah? You get in my way I’ll do you next, you little prick.’ The man levelled his gun at the Frenchman’s head. ‘Fuckin’ scum like this . . . only way to deal with—’
Walter’s shotgun suddenly boomed, snapping stab-vest’s head back and throwing a long tendril of hair, blood, brains and skull up into the air. The other man looked up, startled, and swung his weapon towards the old man.
Instinctively Nathan squeezed several rounds off from his assault rifle. Only one of his shots landed home, punching the man at the base of his throat. His knees buckled and he dropped to the ground like a sack full of coconuts.
‘Oh, fuck!!’ whispered Walter. ‘Oh, fuck,’ he wheezed, ‘I didn’t bloody mean to. Damn thing just went off in my hand!’
Red tracksuit’s legs scissored on the ground as he gurgled noisily, his hands clasped around his throat as if throttling himself, blood quickly pooling on the gritty concrete beneath him.
‘Walter . . .’ said Kevin from the back of the boat. He stood up, eager to clamber ashore and get a closer look at the mess. ‘You blew his head off!’
‘Dammit! Kevin, sit down and be quiet!’ snapped David.
‘Oh, shit, man!’ said Nathan, his features ashen. ‘He’s dying! What - what the fuck are we gonna do?’
They watched the man squirm on the ground for a moment.
‘We have to do something!’ shouted Jacob. ‘He’s bleeding everywhere! ’
Walter stared, dumbfounded, smoke still curling from the barrel of his shotgun.
‘He’s dying,’ said Bill. ‘We can’t help him.’
Walter nodded.
‘We could take him back to Dr Gupta,’ said Jacob bending down to peer at the man convulsing on the ground.
‘Don’t be stupid!’ snapped David. ‘He’s bleedin’ out! He’ll be dead before we get him back.’
The sound of the man’s gurgling, bubbling breath filled the space between them.
‘Then, shit, we ought to . . .’ Nathan started, looking at the others. ‘You know? We can’t leave him like this!’
Walter nodded, finally roused from a state of shock. ‘Yes . . . Christ. Yes, I-I suppose you’re right,’ he said quietly. He placed the shotgun carefully down on the ground and tugged the assault rifle out of Nathan’s rigid hands.
‘Best close your eyes, mate,’ he said to the man on the ground.
The man struggled to say something. Bubbles and strangled air whistled out through the jagged hole in his throat, whilst his mouth flapped uselessly.
‘Look away, boys,’ he said to the others.
Walter aimed, closed his own eyes and fired.
Chapter 9
10 years AC
‘LeMan 49/25a’ - ClarenCo Gas Rig Complex, North Sea
J enny looked down and watched Dr Tamira Gupta take charge of lifting the wounded man out of the boat. Tamira - ‘Tami’ as she was more commonly known - small
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