JANK

SPUD MURPHY (Part Two)

Outside the big bench by the bus station across the road from the bar, Spud was resting soundly.

Locked in a deep sleep, he couldn't move his gangly limbs. Loudly snoring with his mouth wide open, the cold air filled his lungs and dispersed itself back into the air as condensation. Loud dance music had been booming non-stop out of the four walls of the Richmond for the past two hours.

Wrapped in nothing but a leather jacket to shield him from the elements, his pale skin was beginning to freeze over. Unable to shiver, he seemed more content than he actually was on the outer layer.

Locked in an alternate reality, nothing from the outside world had managed to startle him. Not even the loud smashing of glasses, the yelling of the bouncers and drunkard or the sirens of the passing officers pulling over to arrest a group of men outside the club for their drunk and disorderly behaviour.

Leaves rustled in the wind, cars passed the street, people walked by on the other side, yet no-one cared enough to to notice him being passed out in the open.

It was becoming a regular occurrence at Carlton Street on the weekends; an epidemic of seemingly drunk people sleeping by the walls, on the benches and around the shelters. After numerous high-profile complaints by local politicians, the city council had still done nothing to prevent these situations from happening.

They cared more about saving money as opposed to spending it and more about investments than "those troublesome drunkards" as they liked to call them. Of all the safe spaces proposed within the allocated ten year period, not one had been created.

It was disappointing to say the least... but life went on. People queued outside the kebab shop, ordered some greasy snacks and ate them by the park benches, they gossiped, laughed, cried and began to dance the late night hangover away.

Everything was going fine, until a few lads spotted Spud laying across their usual spot. Armed with a half broken bottle and a tray of cheesy chips, they tried to poke Spud on the stomach. Nothing happened. They tried again. Still nothing. Becoming increasingly frustrated, the smaller lad yelled:

"D'ye mind?!" He edged closer to Spud's ear. "This is our spot!"

Still nothing.

The bigger, older lad could hear Spud's heart beating faster and his breathing changing. Angered, he shoved Spud off the bench and watched as his skull split in two. The fresh blood spilled over the cold, concrete pavement.

Pausing, the duo looked down at Spud:

"Dino, what do we do?" The younger one asked, unsure of whether to laugh, cry, run or panic. Looking over in the distance, he'd noticed that there were no more witnesses. They'd all went home when the Police had cleared them off. "Should we, ye know... call the police?"

Dino shook his head. "We can't, Paul. We're on probation... remember?" He searched the area for an empty bottle. "We can make it look like an accident, aye?"

Paul nodded. "Where are we dumpin' him?"

"Leave that to me. You go and look for a bottle, aye? One with a drop in it."

Paul grabbed the biggest bottle he could find and was thankful that he'd got a pair of thick gloves on. "Buckfast?"

"That'll do." Dino wrapped his scarf around his chin and tightened it. "Help me lift him."

"To where?"

Dino pointed to the wall, shielding the edges of the city away from the river. There was a point situated away from the residential areas. "There."

"How are we gettin' across the road?"

"We go the back way."

"Aye, I like yer thinking."

After fifteen minutes of straining, they made it down to the bank. Latching the bottle onto Spud's hand, they threw him over the wall, shivering as the body made a massive splash into the water below.

Glancing down for a final time, they made sure he was still holding that bottle.

Satisfied, they fled the scene, leaving behind no trace of themselves, hoping for the best but expecting the worst.