The Survival Game (26 page)

John turned back to the receptionist. ‘Which room? Dobra, which room?’

She just stared back at him as if she didn’t understand his words. John raised the butt of his gun high above his head and gave her an angry look, the same look he gave Gertrude a few days before, which now felt like a lifetime ago. A second later, a man fell out of the same door as the naked girl. He was trying to both escape and put his trousers on at the same time, which caused him to fall. He bashed his head on the wall of the corridor, hit the floor and lay motionless. Green T hopped out of the room, staring down at the man with contempt, but held back from shooting him, telling John he couldn’t have been Dobra. Green T just stood there, looking around in a daze, not knowing which room to enter next. John turned his attention back to the receptionist. This was the calmest he’d seen Green T since they were in the jeep, so he wanted to grasp the opportunity and quickly point him in the right direction before he kicked off again.

‘Dobra!’ John shouted at the woman. ‘I know you know! Where is he?’ He raised the butt of his gun again and she panicked, waving her hands in the air ahead of him, motioning for him to stop.

‘End-end-end,’ she stammered. ‘Right-Right. Right end.’

John’s head snapped upwards. ‘
Tee! Tee!
’ he screamed, his vocal chords hurting.

Green T now turned to face him with lucid eyes, a lot of the rage that had been driving him suddenly dissipating.

‘End door on the right!’ John shouted.

Green T’s eyes widened and he nodded. He headed that way without hesitating, gathering a second head of steam.

John shoved the receptionist to the side in an attempt to get her going again, but she fell, crying. He grabbed her under the armpit and lifted her off the floor. ‘Come on! You come too!’

She began half-walking and half-crawling along the corridor, still crying. The sound in John’s ears was like alley cats wailing to the moon. ‘Come on! Faster!’ he shouted at her.

She finally got to her feet and began scurrying along. A door to their right became slightly ajar. A young Asian girl’s face appeared in the crack, wanting to see what all the noise was about.

John pointed his gun at her. ‘Get back in and shut the fucking door!’ he ordered.

The girl did as she was told.

Green T had by then reached the last door on the right. He listened at it for a split second, and then took a step back.

‘Tee!’ John shouted as he was pulling the receptionist along the corridor. ‘Wait!’

Green T didn’t listen. He smashed the door in—releasing some loud RnB
skata
—and jumped into the room.

John groaned. He decided to just drop the receptionist down on the floor and go on alone. She hit the carpet with a grunt. John darted for the last door on the right, wanting to get there before Green T went psycho on everyone inside. He quickly reached it and leapt inside like Batman, his ears instantly bombarded with the too loud RnB blasting out of the stereo by his feet. His wide, frantic eyes took in everything—a double bed more or less filled the room. Mirrors lined the wall alongside the bed, sprawling upwards and across the ceiling. Above the bed, a painting of a black cat had been hung on the wall, its nasty green eyes watching everything. On the bed itself, a couple were fucking, his pale
kolo
contrasting against the soft chocolate of her thighs. His head was buried in her neck; her face was twisted with pleasure. Green T was standing next to the bed, his body rigid, his lips trembling with rage. He aimed his Uzi at them both and started shouting incoherent nonsense again, startling them. The man jumped up in shock; the girl scrambled away as fast as she could, a sharp yelp flying out of her mouth.

So, we got the right room then…
John ascertained. He slammed the door shut and pointed his gun at the bed. By then, Dobra had made it to his knees. He snapped his head up to get a good look at who was disturbing his fun. Twin horns protruded from his head, and a long pointy tail curled from his rear and round the front of his chest. John stared hard at him, déjà vu suddenly hitting him like a blast of cold water from a garden hose. His mind flipped back to the night he was mugged, lying there on the ground staring up at Marek, Valeria and Moleface, and he knew exactly who he was now starting at. Dobra was
Scream
. The
malaka
in the
Scream
mask. Now, they were face-to-face once more, except this time it was John who had the guns and the backup, and Dobra was the one caught with his pants down, literally.

A rush of anger overcame him and he gave Dobra a screwface. ‘Remember me?’ he asked, his voice laced with attitude.

From the way his eyes briefly flickered, John knew Dobra recognised him. He had that guilty stare, the one that knows trouble is brewing.

Dobra threw his hands in the air, pleading his innocence, his eyes now bulging out of his skull.

Green T didn’t wanna know. He instantly snapped his arm up, pushed the barrel of the Uzi into Dobra’s chest, and pressed the trigger.

The gun clicked and nothing happened.

John stared open-mouthed from the gun to Dobra, who was staring at Green T with shocked eyes, his body stunned rigid. Green T tried again, this time with more force, his face pinching. But the Uzi stayed quiet. The fucking thing was either stuck or jammed or something,
gamota
.

Dobra seized the opportunity.

He lunged forwards with a loud growl, throwing his arms out wide, trying to grab them both in a big bear hug.

At the same instant, John’s instincts tweaked.

He snapped his arm upwards, just as Dobra was virtually on top of him.

His gun went off, making the girl on the bed scream.

Dobra’s body jerked upwards midair. John kept his finger pushed down on the trigger and the gun popped twice more. The force of the bullets flung Dobra’s body backwards. He hit the bed, bounced off it, and slumped to the ground in a crumpled heap.

He remained where he landed.

Everything went silent, bar Mary J Blige playing on the stereo; she’d never been so out of place.

John remained where he was for a few seconds, stuck in a daze, still pointing the gun ahead of him, thin wisps of smoke swirling off the barrel. The stench of hot gunpowder intermixed with the aroma of sweaty sex hung in the air. It was acrid and unpleasant. He stared drunkenly at the haloed girl on the bed as she quickly covered herself with the duvet. She stared back at him, her chest spasming under her tears.

John slowly turned his head to face Green T. He was staring down at the Uzi in confusion. John looked from him down at the gun in his trembling hand. His brow furrowed. A bizarre relief—that was similar to the sensation of walking out of
philaki
—flooded him. It was like a release of anger, of frustration, like finally figuring out a puzzle after years wasted trying to solve it. He’d just killed one of the
malakes
that mugged him off the other night, the anger and rage he felt towards them encapsulated inside the bullets that were now lodged in Dobra’s chest. But, he felt empty. Horribly empty. Like a chrysalis just after the butterfly has deserted. He thought it would make him feel good to get his revenge on those bastards, but it didn’t. It had done…
nothing.
A release of anger yes, but once that had dissipated, nothing. It was nothing more than another
armatia
on his fucking black list. Another one chalked up for God to judge him with when his time came.

Murder.

He looked down at the gun in his hand, dumbstruck. And now it was like—

‘
You fucking ho!
’ John’s head flicked round and he stared in horror at Green T ’cos he now saw something else in the kid’s eyes. Something that wasn’t there before. It was sheer hatred, a hatred borne out of shame. It was like a switch had been flicked, and it was so sudden, so unexpected, John was left rooted. Green T must’ve worked out what was wrong with his Uzi ’cos he was now aiming it at his sister. John’s stare shot from it to the girl on the bed.

She was suddenly shaking her head desperately, her drugged up eyes widening. ‘Nuh-nuh-nuh-no. Carl! No! Carl,
NO!
’ she screamed.

John’s head snapped round to face Green T. ‘WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU—’

But he was cut short as Green T ruthlessly pulled down that trigger. The mouth of the Uzi burst into flame. There was a loud rasp as it began spitting out bullets. John flicked his head back round. The duvet the haloed girl had used to cover herself with was torn open and rapidly turned red. Her back stiffened as her stomach took the bullets like a sponge, a guttural noise bursting from her chest over and over like a stuttering CD.

John roared out loud. He instinctively put his arm out to the side and rushed Green T, clothes lining him. He forearm smashed into Green T’s neck, throwing his head backwards. The Uzi instantly fell from his grip and dropped harmlessly to the floor. He lost his balance at the same time, toppling over and landing square on his back. John used his momentum to fall on top of him. They both slammed onto the floor with a dull thud. John quickly got on his knees, astride Green T’s body.

He grabbed his t-shirt and pulled him upwards. Their faces were inches apart. ‘WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, YOU LITTLE PRICK?’ John screamed into his face.

‘Bitch deserved it!’ Green T replied like the brat he was.

‘We’re here to kill Dobra! No one else! NO ONE!’

Green T stared at him with eyes that were suddenly cooler. ‘She brought shame to my name,’ he said softly.

John huffed. ‘Listen.
I’m
making the fucking rules here now, you get me? We’re not killing anyone else! OKAY! Now, you’re gonna get your shit together and go find that old slag by the counter ’cos I lost her. For all we know, she might be on the phone to Old Bill. You got it?’

Green T nodded compliantly as if John had somehow gotten through to him.

‘Good. Now go. And call Dread I while you’re at it and tell him to get his arse down here! We’re leaving!’ John got to his feet and pulled Green T to his. He then pushed him towards the door of the room without an ounce of respect for him. Green T trudged off to find the receptionist.

When he was gone, John grabbed his head with both hands, and reluctantly turned back to the mess on the bed. Green T’s sister was draped in a now crimson duvet, her hair plastered to her face with blood. Her halo still glowed brightly, even though she was dead.

John’s heart dropped under the weight of sorrow. He grated his stubbled cheeks with his nails. Malaka
! How could he fucking do this? How could he…?

He looked down. Dobra was by his feet, his black horns still there on his head and his pointy tail still wrapped around his body. The rage began brewing again. If that
malaka
hadn’t been running a place like this, Green T’s sister wouldn’t have become a fucking bullet cushion…

He brought his foot back and violently kicked Dobra’s head. It just swayed limply to the side and back again.

John slammed his foot into it again. And again. ‘Fucking bastard!’ he shouted as he repeatedly kicked, the shite sound of RnB in his ears driving him. ‘Bastard!
Bastard!
’

He smashed Dobra’s nose and jaw to pieces, blood dribbling out of his mouth and nostrils all over the floor. But John didn’t stop. He kept on kicking, enraged. ‘Bastard! BASTARD!’

Then from behind him, a voice. ‘Hey!’

John ignored it, instead continuing to kick Dobra’s head in.

‘HEY!’ A hand on his shoulder accompanied the voice. He was spun around to be faced with Green T.

He had the receptionist in a full nelson, his free hand covering her mouth. Her bulging eyes were full of tears. ‘I got the bitch, let’s go,’ Green T said.

John gazed around him like he’d just been woken from a bad dream, as if he didn’t even know where the hell he was.

‘We gotta go!’ Green T urged.

John locked eyes with him, and everything started coming back. Yeah, they needed to get the fuck out, pronto. ‘Did you call your boys?’ he asked, getting himself together.

‘They’re outside.’

‘Good. Let
her
go.’

Green T glared at him with mean eyes and shook his head. ‘
Uh-uh,
blood. She’s seen our faces. She has to die.’

The woman shrieked.

John’s face screwed up in anger. He pointed a stern finger at Green T. ‘I fucking told you, no one else dies here! Let her go!’

Green T shook his head in defiance. ‘She’ll snitch to the feds. She’s gotta go, blood!’

John whipped out his gun and pointed it at Green T with intent. ‘I said let her go, or I swear to God, it’ll be
you
who’s gonna fucking go,
blood!
’

Green T stared at him for a second, sizing him up. John refused to back down. He didn’t even blink. He pulled back the barrel of his gun and aimed it at the brat once more. Green T got the message loud and clear. He released his grip on the receptionist. She slumped to the floor, hitting it with an agonized groan. John lowered his gun, constantly giving Green T daggers. He’d already watched the little prick do something totally unforgivable, he wasn’t about to sit back and watch him do another.

‘Let’s go,’ he said in a neutral tone. He marched past Green T and out into the corridor. He ran down it, bursting out into the empty reception area, Green T quickly catching up. They both darted for the front door, hitting the wet pavement soon after. John clocked Dread I’s jeep sitting across the street, vibrating like a washing machine on full spin. He raced over to it and swung open the back door. Never in a million years did he think he’d be so glad to be back inside that damn jeep, but he was. He
so
was. When his
kolo
hit the back seat, the music went down low. John could now hear Dread I cackling.

‘
Ya irie, bredda?
’ he asked in a jovial voice.

‘
Mia hara
,’ John replied in between heavy breaths.

Green T got in the other side and slammed the door shut.

‘Get us the fuck out of here!’ John shouted in a wheezy voice.