stay if you don’t want to. I can give you a lift down there if you want.’
Gordy’s stare intensified. ‘Why’d you do a thing like that, eh?’
‘It’s cold out. Probably going to snow later. I don’t think the streets are such a nice place to be, this time of year.’
‘I like the cold. The streets. Long as there’s buildings and cars, I know I’m not back there.’
‘I can’t begin to imagine what that must have been like. Don’t really want to, if I’m being honest.’
‘Billbo saved my life out there, you know.’ The ex-soldier leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. The crazed man from reception was gone, at least for now. In his place was someone who might almost pass for normal, given a shave and a set of clean clothes. But there was something in his eyes; a haunted, far-off look that McLean had seen too many times before. Gordy, whatever his real name was, walked a very fine line between reality and a world of demons, tumbling off it every so often and always the wrong way. He’d been on that side when he’d arrived here, but just for the moment he was skirting back into the edges of normality.
‘Onpatrol. Me, Billbo, Bodie and Jugs. Four-man team, night ops. Stupid thing was, we were on our way back to base. Mission accomplished. Back the way we’d come, so maybe we weren’t paying enough attention. Don’t know how he knew what was coming. Maybe he didn’t, maybe it was just luck. First thing I knew, Billbo’d shoved me hard in the side, knocked me off the path. I was angry with him for all of a second, then it went off.’
Another shudder, followed by a long pause. McLean let the man take his time, all thoughts of pizza and beer forgotten.
‘Don’t think there’s any easy way to describe what it’s like. I was covered in blood, bits of brain. Christ only knows what. Thought I was hit, but it was mostly Jugs, I guess. Maybe Bodie. There wasn’t much of ’em left but gristle. And the noise. Jesus. Couldn’t hear a thing for it. Just Billbo’s silent screaming, pulling me up, moving me on. He’d blood pouring from his face then. Looked like something out of a horror movie. Whole fucking place was a horror movie.’
Gordy had been studying his hands again as he spoke. Now he looked up at McLean, his eyes glistening with tears.
‘He saved my life then, and he saved it again this time. They weren’t after him. The dark angels. They’d come for me. But he was there. He fought them off, just like he did back in the war. Only they had lightning, didn’t they. Took him down from behind like cowards. Dragged him off into the night. I ain’t seen him since.’
McLean waited for the ex-soldier to say more, but he seemed to have run out of steam. It was an odd story,a sad indictment of the way the country treated its damaged minds, but nothing he’d not heard before. True, the exact form of Gordy’s madness was unique, but the fact of it was all too common.
‘I’ll do my best to find your friend, Gordy, but it would really help me if I had a bit more information about him. You call him Billbo, with two ells. He must have had another name, surely?’ McLean started to scribble the nickname down again, stopped when he’d written ‘Bill’. ‘Was it William? William something?’
Gordy blinked, some ghost of a memory flitting across a haunted brain. Then his eyes glazed over, the old madness coming back in a flood.
‘They took him, they did. The dark angels. They took my friend.’
McLean felt he really should have been doing something more for the man, but short of having him arrested and locked up for the night, he couldn’t think of anything more constructive. Gordy followed him out through the station to the car park at the back without a word beyond the occasional low mutter of ‘I fought in the war, don’t you know’ to any passing constable.
He looked scared by the massed ranks of squad cars and riot vans, as if they were sleeping monsters that might
Gordy’s stare intensified. ‘Why’d you do a thing like that, eh?’
‘It’s cold out. Probably going to snow later. I don’t think the streets are such a nice place to be, this time of year.’
‘I like the cold. The streets. Long as there’s buildings and cars, I know I’m not back there.’
‘I can’t begin to imagine what that must have been like. Don’t really want to, if I’m being honest.’
‘Billbo saved my life out there, you know.’ The ex-soldier leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. The crazed man from reception was gone, at least for now. In his place was someone who might almost pass for normal, given a shave and a set of clean clothes. But there was something in his eyes; a haunted, far-off look that McLean had seen too many times before. Gordy, whatever his real name was, walked a very fine line between reality and a world of demons, tumbling off it every so often and always the wrong way. He’d been on that side when he’d arrived here, but just for the moment he was skirting back into the edges of normality.
‘Onpatrol. Me, Billbo, Bodie and Jugs. Four-man team, night ops. Stupid thing was, we were on our way back to base. Mission accomplished. Back the way we’d come, so maybe we weren’t paying enough attention. Don’t know how he knew what was coming. Maybe he didn’t, maybe it was just luck. First thing I knew, Billbo’d shoved me hard in the side, knocked me off the path. I was angry with him for all of a second, then it went off.’
Another shudder, followed by a long pause. McLean let the man take his time, all thoughts of pizza and beer forgotten.
‘Don’t think there’s any easy way to describe what it’s like. I was covered in blood, bits of brain. Christ only knows what. Thought I was hit, but it was mostly Jugs, I guess. Maybe Bodie. There wasn’t much of ’em left but gristle. And the noise. Jesus. Couldn’t hear a thing for it. Just Billbo’s silent screaming, pulling me up, moving me on. He’d blood pouring from his face then. Looked like something out of a horror movie. Whole fucking place was a horror movie.’
Gordy had been studying his hands again as he spoke. Now he looked up at McLean, his eyes glistening with tears.
‘He saved my life then, and he saved it again this time. They weren’t after him. The dark angels. They’d come for me. But he was there. He fought them off, just like he did back in the war. Only they had lightning, didn’t they. Took him down from behind like cowards. Dragged him off into the night. I ain’t seen him since.’
McLean waited for the ex-soldier to say more, but he seemed to have run out of steam. It was an odd story,a sad indictment of the way the country treated its damaged minds, but nothing he’d not heard before. True, the exact form of Gordy’s madness was unique, but the fact of it was all too common.
‘I’ll do my best to find your friend, Gordy, but it would really help me if I had a bit more information about him. You call him Billbo, with two ells. He must have had another name, surely?’ McLean started to scribble the nickname down again, stopped when he’d written ‘Bill’. ‘Was it William? William something?’
Gordy blinked, some ghost of a memory flitting across a haunted brain. Then his eyes glazed over, the old madness coming back in a flood.
‘They took him, they did. The dark angels. They took my friend.’
McLean felt he really should have been doing something more for the man, but short of having him arrested and locked up for the night, he couldn’t think of anything more constructive. Gordy followed him out through the station to the car park at the back without a word beyond the occasional low mutter of ‘I fought in the war, don’t you know’ to any passing constable.
He looked scared by the massed ranks of squad cars and riot vans, as if they were sleeping monsters that might
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