Hardly
surprising that he upped sticks and left such a den of vipers, choosing to move
to the much more carefree environs of Ireland, dragging his wife and twin
toddlers with him. It wasn't long before he recognised his mistake. If
anything, Irish employers, and the social care system here were even less
understanding of his lazy attitude toward work. Mr Jones was fired from every
job he managed to get. The years passed and Mr Jones accepted his forced
retirement, content to pass on his particular view of the world to his sons.
As
it transpired, they inherited their father’s nasty manner and aptitude for
laziness. By the time they were sixteen, they were out of school, and
running-a-muck. When not spitting abuse at anyone that caught their eye, they
were getting drunk or doing drugs in an abandoned house they called home. Dole
money didn't go far, not when you have an expensive lifestyle of drink and
drugs to account for. Naturally, they never considered working for the money
when they could just take it. If a break-in happened within twenty miles of the
Jones's shack, the police knew where to look.
One
particular evening, Donnie and Adam turned their attention on a neat little end
of terrace house, in an old part of the town. No fancy lock-picking for these
boys, they just rammed a crowbar in the front door and ripped the lock from its
housing. Inside, a small Jack Russell began barking wildly. Donnie pinned it in
a corner and began kicking the poor little thing savagely. By some miracle, it
managed to dodge to freedom and race out the front door, howling in terror. The
house was as neat as a pin until the two brothers ripped it apart, smashing
whatever came to hand not worth nicking. To their rage filled indignation,
there was nearly nothing of value, except the TV.
"Nothing
but shite!" screamed Donnie, smashing photos and ripping apart furniture,
looking for hidden cash.
"Come
on, let’s grab the TV and go," said Adam from the sitting room. Donnie
went in and took one corner of the set, still fuming at the audacity of the
owner to have nothing they could flog.
They
were in the hall when Donnie said, "Hang on a minute," and put down
his end of the TV. He ducked back into the sitting room, then started making
some fairly unsettling noises.
"What
the fuck are you doing," asked Adam, going after him. He was greeted by a
vision of Donnie, squatting in the middle of the sitting room, squeezing out a
runny crap.
"Serves
them bloody right," snarled Donnie, hitching up his trousers, leaving his
present behind. They loaded the TV into the van, and left.
***
An
hour later, a tall middle-aged man stood before the ruined door, the key rock
steady in his hand. For a moment he did nothing, just listened, then he quietly
pushed the door open with his fingertips. He slipped inside and moved through
the house, keeping close to the wall. He ducked his head around each door,
making sure the place was empty before he eventually called out, "Jessy?"
He
listened but heard nothing.
"Jessy,
here girl," he said louder, whistling this time. Still nothing. The man
went from room to room calling the name. He stopped in the sitting room,
staring down at the stinking pile of human waste, then walked out of the house.
For hours, the streets rang out with the name, "Jessy."
***
Two
days later, Donnie and Adam were in the middle of the town hoping to score some
hash, when Adam became aware of a tall man glaring directly at them. He was
about six foot one, fit, but not bulky. He had a neatly trimmed beard and his
grey hair was buzz cut. Adam locked the van and looked over at the guy. He just
kept staring.
"What
the fuck you looking at, Queer?" shouted Adam. The man didn't flinch or
look away, just kept staring right at him.
"What
the FUCK!" said Adam, raising his hands to invite the dude on for a scrap
but Donnie was itching to score, so he pulled his brother away.
"Asshole
FAGGOT!" screamed Adam, over his shoulder as he left. The man never moved
an inch. When the boys got back to the van, they found it sitting on its rims,
all the tyres were slashed. After ten minutes of cursing, kicking and shouting,
they had no choice but to walk back to the squat. The evening was getting
dark and they didn't notice the tall man tailing them, expertly.
After
that night, whatever luck the Jones' brothers had, ran out. One night, all the
clothes hanging on their washing line were soaked in petrol and set on fire. A
few days later, the front window of their house was smashed in and a sack full
of rats were dumped inside; dozens of the stinking things. Every other night
the tyres on the van were slashed, or the windows were broken, and that was
only the beginning. They returned to the squat one evening to find both their
beds soaked in gallons of blood.
Then,
Donnie went missing. Adam didn't think too much of it, but when the pubs closed
and there was still no sign of him, Adam started calling around. Nobody had
seen him. Donnie was found early the next morning, beaten, naked, and handcuffed
to a building site fence near the middle of town.
Adam
raced to the hospital, where he found his brother in A&E.
"Who
did this to you?"
"That
tall, queer fella from town, remember, last week," said Donnie.
"Jesus,
did he..." said Adam, nodding towards Donnie's crotch.
"NO!
Well, I don't think so. I can't remember much. He came up behind me when I was
walking home and jabbed something in my neck. I remember his face but after
that, not much."
"He
must have said something?"
"Yea,
he did. He said he wants his TV back."
"What!"
"I
know, but that's what he said."
***
Adam
walked out of the hospital and was amazed to see that very same tall man,
standing in the middle of the car park, staring at him.
"You
must have a death wish!" he yelled and ran at the man. The tall guy stood
there, as cool as a breeze, watching a snarling Adam rush toward him. When he
was a few feet away, Adam launched himself into the air, his foot aimed
straight at the man's chest. He still hadn't moved; he even had his hands in
his pockets. It was a complete mystery to Adam how, but he seemed to stop in
mid-air, flip upside down and be rammed head first into the tarmac. All around
him the world swam, and his ears buzzed. Two punches crashed into his jaw, and
he felt something crack. Pain shot through him but his scream came out garbled.
The tall man leaned over him and said.
"You
took my TV; I want it back."
"I
have no idea…" mumbled Adam, but the man didn't wait for the end of the
sentence. He moved with lightning speed and fresh pain raced up Adam's arm and
into his brain.
"JESUS!"
The
man held up Adam's severed little finger, and the blood soaked garden shears he’d
used to amputate it. "I'm going to take one a week until I get my TV
back." The man dropped the finger on Adams chest, straightened up then
walked casually away.
***
When
the boys got out of hospital, and the police stopped laughing at them, five
full days had passed. They couldn’t believe this was all over a TV. Donnie put
out a few feelers and the news that came back wasn’t good.
"He's
only a bloody Ranger!" said Donnie.
"Like
special forces Ranger?" asked Adam.
"Yea
but worse. He's a Ranger who was sent home for being off his rocker. That was
his mother’s house we knocked over, but she's dead now."
"Since
the break in!" yelled Adam, understanding why the guy was trying to kill
them, if the shock of the break-in made the Ma croak.
"Na,
years ago, it’s just him living there," said Donnie. Neither of them said
anything, both running things over and over, looking for a way out of this.
"Let's
get the fuck out of here," said Adam at last.
"Good
idea," said Donnie, jumping to his feet. Ten minutes later, their van was
a speeding blip on the edge of town.
They
crashed at a friend’s place in Limerick for a few nights, until, in the middle
of the night, a scream tore through the house. Adam rushed into the sitting
room, throwing on the light, to find the tall Ranger with a knife to Donnie's
neck. There was blood all over the place. Adams mate came running down the
stairs but as soon as he got a look in the sitting room, he ran straight back
up again.
"Week
is up," said the man, throwing Donnie's little finger across the room.
"Look,
just tell us what you want," said Adam, feeling his bladder come
dangerously close to letting go.
"I
want my TV. I've told you that already," said the man in an ice-cold
voice.
"All
right, all right. I'll get you a bloody TV, just take that knife from his
throat," said Adam.
"I
said, I want my TV, not a TV. I want the one you took, and I want it brought
back to my house before this day next week," said the man, as calmly as he
would if he were ordering a salad.
"Yea!
No problem! Just let him go, please," said Adam, his eyes beginning to
mist over. Just like that the man let his brother go, and walked out the front
door and was gone. In the distance, sirens were just starting to grow, Adam's
friend must have called the cops from upstairs.
In
the end, Adam and Donnie told the coppers nothing. Just said it was a stupid
accident. They knew the Ranger was nuts, and there was no way the police were
going to stop him, if he decided he wanted to get one, or both of them. The
only option was to do what he asked.
***
The
next Friday, Adam and Donnie turned up at the little terrace house with the
stolen TV held between them. The door opened before they had a chance to knock,
and the tall man stepped to one side allowing them to bring in the set. The
house was back to the neat way it had been. The twins put the TV on the counter
and turned to face the man.
"Plug
it in please," he asked, politely. Donnie plugged in the TV and turned it
on, as Adam kept a close eye on the mad bastard. Once he had flicked through
the channels, the man turned the TV off, and smiled at Adam.
"That's
it, we're done so?" Adam asked.
"I
want my dog," the man said, his eyes dead.
"I
don't have your dog!" yelled Adam, not believing it was starting all over again.
"I
want my dog."
"Seriously,
we haven't got it!"
"Her."
"We
haven't got her; she ran out the door. If we had her, we’d give her back. I
swear! You can cut off all my fingers, but we can't give you what we haven't
got." said Adam. From the corner of his eye, he could see Donnie start to
shake. This was going very wrong; they never should have come inside this
house. The tall guy walked over and shut the sitting room door, standing
between them and any hope of freedom.
"Ah,
Jesus. Please," cried Adam, tears starting to come. The man just shook his
head and started to advance. They both backed up until they felt the wall on
their backs.
"We’ll
do anything else, just name it, anything. Please," blubbed Donnie. The man
stopped and looked at them for a second, his crazy mind running behind his dead
eyes.
“Okay,
give me justice, so," said the man.
"Sure,
no problem. You want us to confess to the break in? We’ll do it right now, over
the phone so you can listen if you like." said Adam, the prospect of a few
months behind bars was nothing compared to having fingers sliced off.
"Not
that. Twelve lashes each, in the town square. Tomorrow, midday," said the
guy, his eyes gleaming.
"Twelve
lashes?"
"Yea.
Deal or no deal?" asked the guy.
"With
what?" asked Donnie.
"Don't
worry about that. Is it a deal?
"Deal!
Deal!" said Adam, just wanting to get out of the house
***
The
next day, just after mid-day, the twins edged into the town square. In the
middle of it stood a statue of a soldier surrounded by a metal rail.
"Take
off your tee-shirts," the man said and they did as they were told,
attracting lots of looks from the passing shoppers.
"Grab
on to the rail, this is going to sting a bit," the Ranger said to Adam,
with a smile. Adam turned around and gripped the metal bars. From under his
coat, the Ranger removed a short leather whip with nine braided tails. He threw
the whip at Donnie's feet and said, "Twelve of the best, please."
"Me?"
The
man said nothing. Donnie picked up the whip and looked at his brother's bare
back. Realising that it was Donnie going to use the lash, Adam relaxed a
bit. The first blow was savage and drew blood, Adam screamed, and everyone
in the square stopped in their tracks, but Donnie drew his hand back and let
fly once more. Blow after blow fell, each more severe than the last, Donnie's
natural evil, rising to the surface. After twelve, Adam dropped away from the fence,
his back in ribbons, his face contorted in rage and pain.
"Now
you," said the tall man to Donnie, indicating the fence. As soon as
Donnie's fists closed around the metal bars, Adam grabbed the whip and went to
town on his brother. Adam quickly reached twelve and was about to issue number
thirteen when the tall man said, "That is enough."
Adam
dropped the whip, panting. Donnie fell to the ground, moaning, and the tall man
walked up until he was inches from Adam's face. He bent, and picked up the lash,
and said, "Now, find my dog."
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