Storymania - The Long Way Home by Glen Pearson

The Long Way Home
Glen Pearson

The bloke lived in a fucking big house, was my thought as we went down the stairs into his basement. It was more than a few steps down to the bottom. The bloke (I couldn’t recall his name) led the way, then Jim, then me. He hadn’t turned on any lights other than the one by the front door when we came in, so halfway down the stairs we were in almost complete darkness. From the bottom came the reassuring sounds of techno and a dim red light from one of the rooms below. The bloke was a mate of a mate of Jim’s, and he’d told us earlier that there was a bit of a party going on at his place tonight. With it being a Tuesday Jim and me had eagerly accepted his invitation. With no lectures tomorrow and fuck all else going in town why the hell would anyone turn down a free party? With the added lure of “we’ve got shit loads of blow and billy” we’d felt that there was little choice in the matter, even if I hadn’t spoke two words to this cunt all evening, not knowing him from Adam.
At the bottom of the stairs the bloke turned left and the dim illumination increased into a creepy expanse of red as the sounds of pumping bass immediately intensified. I followed Jim into the room and took in the sights of the party.
Unfortunately there were no women there but you can’t have everything, right? What there was however was a neat little system with fuck-off sized speakers pumping out those glorious repetitive beats, a sofa with a couple of blokes on it leaning over a table chopping some lines and a nice selection of pillows and cushions awaiting chilled out geezers to lounge and smoke themselves stupid.
“Alright lads,” said the bloke to the blokes in the room. They nodded and the bloke introduced us to the two sat down at the end of the room. They were Zac and Danny. In the red glare caused by a coloured bulb on the ceiling not much could be really made out of the two. They had long hair, had T-shirts on and were using Uni library cards to cut up the lines. I’d always said that those fuckers were the best things to sort out a few lines and here was my point proved yet again. The bloke couldn’t remember my name so I piped up with it. Still, I couldn’t remember his so who gave a fuck?
“Help yourself to a couple of lines, mate,” said Zac. I needed no further invitation. After planting my arse down on a large beanbag I got out a fiver from my wallet and rolled the obligatory tube. Two snorts later and I had that lovely sensation shoot into my head. The stuff was good, practically fucking pure. Jim sat down next to me and I proffered the tube. He took one look at the snot smearing one end and declined with a grin. No-name turned off the techno and received a grunt of disapproval from each of us in turn. This turned into a cheer (from me at least) when he put some dark drum ‘n bass on. I was now so fucking hyper that I felt like jumping round the room, dancing, y’ know? But the strange atmosphere of that red light and being in the company of strangers made me decide otherwise.
The next couple of hours were a bit of a blur for me, to say the least. I knocked up more than couple of spliffs and engaged in lots of really meaningless conversation, all the while trying to avoid everyone’s super-large, speed-enhanced pupils. Eye contact with those weird fuckers always freaked me out more than a little, especially when buzzing my tits off on speed. Anyway, more than a few hours passed, and more than a few tapes/CDs were played before everything went fucking mental.

It all started off with a distant banging from upstairs. I seemed to be the only one who heard it. Everyone else was in a state of trance. Jim had fallen asleep, that bastard was the only lucky cunt I knew who could actually sleep on speed, Danny was concentrating intently on constructing another spliff and Zac and No-name were busy staring at the walls. The banging stopped and there was nothing but those lovely hypnotic beats for about a minute. Then from above there was a mighty crash and a bang as the front door was kicked in and smashed against the wall. No-name jumped up, shit-scared. I assumed that it must have been the police, with the amount of gear No-name and his mates had I wouldn’t have been surprised if the filth were watching the place. No-name just stood up, whirling from side to side. I don’t know if he was wondering how the fuck he was going to hide the drugs or what. He just stood there twirling to the left and then the right repeatedly as heavy feet came thudding down the stairs.
Danny looked up with a look of mild alarm sketched on his face. Zac stared at the wall and Jim snored. I was splashed out on the comfy cushions at the time and tried to ease myself further down into them, wanting to look as least conspicuous as possible.
The door crashed open and this huge black cunt with a massive coat making him look even bigger stormed into the room.
“I t’ought as much,” said the immensity, “fookin’ bet ya got no fookin’ mooney for oos, ‘ave ya, ya coont?”
I presumed that No-name owed this dark giant money or something, maybe he was meant to sell the billy and blow for the cunt, I don’t know. Anyway, the geezer now had his hand round No-name’s throat and was shouting at him with their eyes mere centimetres apart: “Ya fookin’ coont! Ya fookin’ coont! Da ya know ‘ow mooch ya owes oos, ya coont, do ya? Fuckin’ do ya’s?”
I couldn’t place the accent but this geezer definitely wasn’t local, if you know what I’m saying. I tried to remain invisible on my comfortable cushions but couldn’t resist a glance towards the door, I mean, for fuck’s sake man, I wanted out of this crazy shit. I hadn’t even seen those bastards come in! There were now two skinheads practically guarding the door. Both bald, both wearing those puffa coats that made even some skinny twat look like a hard cunt. Neither had there eyes on me though, they were too busy watching the interrogation.
There was a crunching sound followed by a crash. I looked round at No-name who was now sprawled across the table. Danny had managed to lift his arms just in times and was unbelievably still fiddling about with the spliff. Fuck this shit, I thought.
I decided to seize the moment and jumped up. I swayed uncertainly for a second but then the sight of that massive black geezer turning round spurred me on. I shoved one of his mates aside and dashed out of that crazy red room. I could just about make out the stairs and started running up them, not knowing if anyone was following me, just wanting to get out of there, and fast.
As I made it to the top of stairs a blinding light hit me in the face. It seemed we had been down there longer than I had thought. The front door was open and harsh sunlight shone through. Before I could totally sort things out I heard running footsteps going up the same flight I’d just overcame. Still sped up to fuck I raced out of that doorway like there was no tomorrow. I chanced a glance behind me. A bald head thrusting itself through the front doorway was all the incentive I needed. I ran.
I was in the midst of some street of terraced houses. I’d never been here before and only vaguely recalled the route we’d made last night to get here. We’d gone through the park and then down a few roads that I’d never been down before. I didn’t know where the fuck I was. I mean, I didn’t know all this shit was going to happen, did I? I just thought we was going down here for a good time, I didn’t think I’d have to remember the way we went or anything. Jim was the one with the photographic memory, not me. I absently wondered if the cunt had woken up yet as I made it to the end of the road. Hearing shouts behind me I decided that Jim’s slumber was the least of my worries at the moment. I hastily rounded the corner onto another street full of similar looking houses that I couldn’t remember seeing before.
I wasn’t worried about running out of breath, I was too super-charged to get knackered in the near-future. The idea of turning and facing those fuckers never occurred to me. I was totally shit-scared and just kept thinking of how much damage three blokes could do to you if you let them catch you. The image of No-name sprawled across the spliff-making table kept popping up in my head. Except in this vision it was me in that strangely lit red room, looking up at this giant of a bloke who wouldn’t listen to any of my pleas but just kept hitting and hitting.
Despite the brightness of the sunlight it must still have been moderately early in the morning, there were fuck-all people about. After running down several random streets I finally saw someone. I’d got to a little side-street containing a new-agents, post-office and garage. There was some old cunt tying his dog to a flower display outside the newsagents. He saw me and shifted back a couple of steps. I suppose with my bug-out eyes, sweat dripping off of me and generally just racing along I must have scared the geezer a bit. I grinned at the thought and the bloke stepped back some more, holding his hands up in the air in surrender or something.
I looked behind me. Luckily I’d only just turned a corner to get onto this road so the cunts couldn’t see what I was up to. For the moment anyway. I practically jumped into the shop and made my way down the main aisle towards the magazines at the end.
There was a glimmer of a plan in my head. I was assuming that the blokes who were after me hadn’t got a really good look at me. After all, in that red room all colours seemed to blur into either red or black and hopefully all that they could see when chasing me would be a longhaired bloke wearing a long leather coat and jeans.
From where I was standing you couldn’t see the shop’s front door if you ducked down a bit behind the aisle. So, in case they happened to come in I ducked down a bit, out of view-point. The cashier at the counter could see me however, some tired-looking young bloke in a white shirt. He gave me a puzzled look but his general impression was that he’d seen it all before. This was probably a 24-hour shop or something, this bloke would have seen all kind of weirdo’s in the early hours doing fucking strange things, I suppose. I was probably just the last abnormality on the cunt’s shift and he obviously couldn’t be arsed to get involved. I gave him a reassuring grin and started taking my long coat off, all the while remaining behind the selection of biscuits and cereals. This prompted him to shake his head and resume reading whatever shit magazine he had up there on the counter.
Just before I’d started removing my coat I’d heard some people run past the shop but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t check in here anyway, after they realised I wasn’t outside. Mind you, I had been expecting them a lot sooner. I thought the bastards had been right on my heels, then again, they probably hadn’t been snorting the speed all night.
After removing my coat (the neck was slimy with sweat, as was my entire body) I folded it up. Being leather, and large, I had only been able to get it down to about the size of a suitcase, but I was hoping that that would be enough. I quickly thought about my other distinguishing feature and tucked my long hair down into my T-shirt.
Not wanting to annoy the cashier too much, I decided to buy something. I pulled out my wallet and was glad to see I still had about twenty quid on me. I bought some cigarettes and a lighter, seeing as my one had been left on that doomed table back at No-name’s house.
“Do you want a bag for that?” asked the cashier.
I looked at him, totally perplexed. Why the fuck would I want a bag just for a pack of smokes and a lighter? He must have sensed my confusion because he hesitantly pointed towards my coat. What a fucking sorted idea, I thought and eagerly nodded. The bloke wasn’t too impressed by my enthusiasm, however, he just tossed me a carrier bag and looked back down at his magazine. It was some lad’s mag or something, I couldn’t really give a shit, it was time to go.
Then the shop door opened. I hastily turned round and had a bit of a gander at the magazine myself. Was it the bloke’s who’d been chasing me? If it was, it was just one of them, unless the others were waiting outside. Whoever had came in stormed to the end of the shop and round the main aisle. The door opened again.
“’E ain’t in ‘ere, man,” shouted the youth who was already in the shop. I didn’t want to risk a glance at either him or whoever was now stood in the shop doorway. I was sweating profusely, slick droplets were sticking my T-shirt to my skin and I must have fucking stank of BO. I was trying to look inconspicuous, reading the cashier’s magazine and almost shaking with fear, head down, if I didn’t see them, they wouldn’t see me. The cashier had given up on the magazine by now. He flicked it over to me as he tried to keep an eye on the puffa-coated individual who might have fancied a bit of shoplifting. That’s if it was one of the blokes who were after, which I’m certain now it was.
“Come on, for fook’s sake!” shouted another voice from the doorway. Now I knew it was them, there was no mistaking that deep voice with the fucked-up accent.
“Ay!” shouted his companion from the end of the aisle, “I might as well get some muchies while I’m fuckin’ ‘ere, ain’t I?”
“Nah, no fookin’ time. That coont could be anywhere, and he’s got mah stoof.”
“Yeah? You don’t know that, do ya? You’re just fuckin’ ‘opin’ cause ya coul’n’t fuckin’ find it.”
“’E’s fookin’ got it.” The big black bloke’s voice deepened with menace. In my heightened awareness I could almost feel the vibration of his single step into the shop. All I could think was, please don’t see me, please don’t see me.
The bald bloke was obviously still pissing about because his boss finally shouted, “Get out here, NOW!” in a furious fucking bellow. The bald cunt sighed petulantly and threw some packets of something on to the floor. He elbowed me in the chest on his way past, but after getting no reaction from me just blustered out of the shop. The door finally swung closed.
I still didn’t want to look up. I was certain that they would all be staring through the shop window at me, just waiting for me to look up and reveal myself. Sweat oozed out of the fist grasping the carrier bag with my coat in it. My whole body started to shake with the effects of unused adrenaline and amphetamine. Eventually the cashier spoke up.
“It’s okay, they’re gone.”
I looked up at him and replied, “what?”
“I said: ‘they’re gone’, mate. They didn’t see you.”
Instant paranoia jumped into my brain. This bloke was with them. When he’d seen me come in he must have rang up the blokes on their mobiles or something, telling them where I was. Maybe they had other people out keeping an out for me, they could have had mate’s anywhere, all told by now to look out for some longhaired geezer in a leather coat. I stared into the cashier’s eyes in terror, trying to squeeze some hope out of my fucked-up situation.
“You what?” I asked.
“Hey, I was just saying, mate. They didn’t see you. They’re probably long-gone by now. Calm down, yeah?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.” I finally turned round towards the shop door. There was no one there. I inched over to the glass walls and looked down both sides of the street, or as far as I could look without punching my head through the glass. There was no one about. Then some one came down the street towards the newsagent. They were on the other side of the road, wearing a puffa-coat, and they were crossing over, coming towards me! I glared round at the cashier in shock. He’d turned back to his magazine, ignoring me again. Yet, that was right, fucking ignoring me. After all, his job was done now, wasn’t it, they were coming for me now. I turned back to the window. The puffa-coat was an old raincoat and the bloke wearing it was actually the same old cunt I’d scared the shit out of earlier. His eyes met mine and he immediately turned away from the shop, picked up his speed and walked off in a different direction. A second later his dog ran down the road after him, barking.
I decided that it was time to go. I couldn’t stay in here all fucking day. Strange thoughts were starting to twirl around my head and I was starting to shake. I had to get going before my muscles locked up, or something.
“Take it easy, mate,” I heard from behind me as I left the shop. I said an affirmative and started walking down the road. There was a nice little choice ahead of me. I could go back the way I’d come from by going right, follow the road that the shops were on down a hill to my left, or cross over and take another road to my left. I didn’t know where any of the roads really went but obviously I knew that if I went right I might end up back at No-name’s house. Going downhill and left would have been the obvious way for me to run down earlier, sort of a natural continuation of my route.
So I crossed over the traffic-less road and made my way down the street past even more quiet, terraced houses. No buildings looked familiar yet. I couldn’t remember how long we’d walking for last night but I was certain that we couldn’t be that far away from where I lived, surely?

After chain-smoking my way down various unfamiliar streets I eventually made it to the park. I’d arrived by the area where the lads and me normally played football. Except normally we’d walk through most of the park before getting here, I’d never arrived from this point before. Still, at least I knew where the fuck I was now and could start making my way home.
I made my way past the fence and entered the grassy sanctuary. The sun was up in a glorious, almost cloudless sky and the day was fine. More than fine. I’d always appreciated the occasional wonder that the world could offer me more when in a state of enhancement. With the wonderful sight of trees and grass lit up before me it was a day where surely anyone would be glad to be alive. I just hoped I would stay that way.
Starting to come down big-time now, I lit up another cigarette. The first two fingers on my right hand were now practically coated in brown-yellow nicotine and looked more than a bit disgusting. As the effects of dehydration settled into my body the earlier buzz of the speed was now starting to turn into a real horrible tired sensation that jarred throughout my bones with every step. It was definitely time to put the appreciation of nature to one side and to concentrate on getting home while I could still walk.

At last, I was home. The set of flats where I lived beckoned to me from across the road. I don’t think that busted security door leading up to my flat had never looked more inviting. There were a few people about by now but I couldn’t see any bald fuckers in puffa-coats. I waited for a car to make its way past and then dragged my shattered body across the road. The muscles in my legs were now seriously starting to ache like fuck, and I wanted to get into a nice hot bath before cramps set in.
I opened the door and was surprised to see Jim sat on the stairs. Although relieved to see my mate, the sight of his shivering form sat on the stairs brought about a touch of wariness.
“Er, alright mate?” I asked. “You, er, made it back then?”
“Look mate,” he said. “They was gonna fucking kill me man, they think you got something of theirs. Look I dunno-”
He stopped as that infamous big black geezer came down the stairs and barged past him. By now I was too weary to run, I just fell back against the door, filled with dread.
“Look,” I tried to reason with the fucker, knowing it was futile. I mean why the fuck would he have dragged Jim all the way back to my place unless he thought that I had whatever it was he wanted? I tried anyway, “look, I mean, come on man, look-”
“Look at what, you skinny fook?” said the dark imposing figure before me. His two henchmen came down the stairs behind him, one of them kicking Jim in the head on the way down. My mate sprawled on the floor and just stayed there, not moving or anything. There was a click. I hadn’t noticed that the big cunt had had a switchblade in his hand. Now it was opened. As he lifted it up sunlight from the window halfway up the stairs caught the blade, like one of those little moments you always see in films but never seem to happen in real life. Mind you, this sort of shit had never happened to me before in real life, until now.
“I don’t know what the fuck you want, mate. Me and Jim just went to a fucking party, that’s all. I don’t even know the cunt who-”
“Shoot it. Ah’ve ‘ad joost abaht all the shit I coon take.” He stepped forward towards me. The sour odour of his drying sweat reminded me of of my own stinking body. The luxury of a bath, so imminent mere moments before, now seemed like a worthless dream.
With his dark flaring nostrils mere millimetres from my own, the dark man held the knife against my throat. One of his mates grabbed the bag from me, got my coat and searched through it. The other rummaged about in pockets, the feel of his grubby hands around my groin made me feel sick.
Without taking his gaze from mine the bloke asked: “So?”
“Nothing,” said one of the puffa-coat crew.
“Fuck all, man,” said the other.
After a final snort into my face the evil-looking geezer moved his head back. The knife stayed. Before I could protest he plunged it through my neck. Blood almost immediately soaked the cunt’s arm. Everything started to go black. Blacker even the bastard who had killed me. I could dimly hear whimpering from Jim as something happened to him and I tried to reassure myself that I couldn’t be dying. Not like this. It was all so fucking pointless. But that was it.