A New England

Chapter Four- Maria

The music was so loud it almost felt as if her very brain itself was being rattled in her head as she threw her fist in the air and bounced in time to the beat with the crowd that seemed to move as one.

The arched ceiling of the old railway tunnel was low and damp and dripped water down on the writhing mass of bodies that where packed like cattle below it. The industrial beats where almost tribal as they bounced off the old stone walls, blasting from the towering stacks of speakers at the side of the stage. Maria was new to these kind of events, she had been brought here by a guy she had met in a meeting in a back room of a bar, they had travelled from there with a bus load of people out here to the countryside, to this railway arch. Maybe ten years ago this would have been a simple gig, maybe an illegal rave at the very worst, but the changes in society had driven the heavy industrial rock and punk scene right underground.

Such an event was no longer merely a social function, a form of weekend entertainment, or escapism. It had taken on a far deeper and more significant meaning. This was a rally now, this had become political, and everyone in the room was all too aware that if the old railway arch was raided they could all be arrested.

Most of the crowd were little more than kids and were risking their two year probation simply by being there. In their anarchic mood they did not care about their future or how they might be damaging it, they where hypnotised by the music and by the anti-establishment messages the singer in the band was screaming at them. As the song ended and the guitars died leaving behind only a sombre, echoing drum beat, the singer began to speak to the crowd.

"Everyday we can go online and watch people killing each other," he said resting one boot clad foot on a monitor and leaning in to his captive young audience, "People they tell us are criminals, people who deserve to die."

In the crowd Maria listened, enthralled, her spirit growing angry and riled by the picture the scene was creating.

"And some do deserve to die, yes; the murders, the rapists. But we were sold a false ideal. They say they are trying to keep our streets safe but they're all about discrimination now. If they don't like you they come for you. If you think different to them they come for you. You don't need to be a murderer or a rapists. If they have a problem with the way you look or think or with something you said they'll find a reason to take you. Anyone of you could be next. How many here are still on probation?"

A huge, angry roar rose from the gathering.

"Yes," the speaker nodded meaningfully, "Anyone of you. Anyone who has a voice. Anyone who does not conform. Sons and daughters taken away, never given a chance. That's why we have to fight it."

Everyone cheered aggressively. The synth player hit some button on his machine and the beat picked up again before the band launched into another tirade of heavy guitars and bass that Maria could actually feel vibrating through her chest.

There was no bar as such in the railway arch but after the live show, when the DJ's had begun and the crowds had thinned slightly, Maria found her way across to a long table at the side of the tunnel on which coolers of beer had been set for people to help themselves. As she reached for a cold beer Maria could not help but catch the fragment of conversation that drifted from one of her fellow protestors. 

"...it could wipe out, like thousands," said the thin kid with the glasses and the shaggy mop of red hair, "and it's totally invisible, it can be smuggled through airport security totally undetected, horrendous when you think of it."

"You talking about all the shit that's been all over the news about germ warfare?" Maria intercepted, sidling up to the red head and his companion.

"Err, yeah," he confirmed, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"It's bullshit you know," she told them, "Propaganda to keep people scared, to make us fear the people they want us to see as enemies. The Doomsday Virus doesn't actually exist."

"Sure it does," insisted the skinny kid, "It's the most deadly weapon ever created. The A bomb had nothing on this."

"Well if there was such a thing we sure could use a weapon like that, it would really help the cause."

The kid with the glasses shot her a disgusted look, "We'd be as bad as them if we unleashed something like that. We don't want to kill people you know, that's not what the cause is about."

He turned away from Maria and back to his friend, indicating he had no further desire to associate with this new comer and her ideas. Maria was angry at being dismissed in such a way. People had turned their back on her her whole life. No, she would not be ignored.

"Hey what's your problem? Do you think you're too good to talk to me." she prodded him hard in the back.

"Look," he said, turning back to her, "I don't want to associate with people who think that acts of terrorism are the way forward."

"Well we aren't getting anywhere just sitting about shouting about things are we. Perhaps we need to take direct action."

"You're entitled to your opinion of course, but what you are suggesting is reckless and totally irresponsible. Anyway, it's so far from even being possible that it's laughable."

"That's what you think is it? Laughable is it?" That uncontrollable, unjustified red haze was descending now, the one that she knew would end in her loosing control and regretting it later.

"Look, I'm going now, I don't want a fight."

"Oh a fight now is it? What's up? Frightened I'd beat you?"

"No," he said, his calm demeanor further fueling her rage, "I just don't want to end up hitting a girl."

He began to walk away. The red mist totally clouded her vision and Maria lost control. Holding her bottle of beer by the neck she raised her arm and brought it crashing down on the kids head. She could not remember what happened next. It was always the same when the red mist came, but the next thing she knew the kid was lying bleeding on the floor while a crowd of shocked onlookers stared at her in horror. She dropped the broken bottle and looked at the blood on her hands. It was all over. She had done it now.

"What?" she raged at the crowd, "What you gonna do? Bring them down here to arrest me? Because you know if you do we'll all go down together. Come on, I dare you. At least we'll all go down fucking martyrs!"

In the face of the crowd Maria laughed hysterically as hurled the remains of the bottle into their midsts before someone grabbed her from behind and pinned her arms behind her back.