Chris sat in his living room wearing his school uniform, waiting for his mother to come home from work. His father would be in the pub as always, but Chris preferred it that way. When his father was home, things were bad. If they were really bad, Chris couldn't go to school for a few days.
As it stood, Chris wouldn't be going back to school for the time being. Something very strange was happening.
Shirley turned her key in the door and knew her son was home from school early; his muddy shoes lay on the laminate where he'd kicked them off and his bag was lying open next to the stairs, spewing books out of it's mouth.
"What have you done now?" her shrill voice accused him loudly from the hallway before she'd even read an expression on her son's face.
"Nowt. They got no food at school to feed anybody. They sent us all home." Chris yelled back from the sofa. SpongeBob was trying out his new spatula on TV.
"But what if you didn't have a key?"
"I told Miss that I had one."
"But what if you didn't have one? What if you were lying about it? It's raining out there, you'd be soaked."
"I dunno mum."
"Should have sent you to a decent school. Teachers!" Shirley hung up her coat and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
"There's no food." Chris shouted.
"What?" Shirley replied through the serving hatch that formed a window into the dining area.
"We're out of food. You need to go shopping. I had the last biscuit."
"Bloody hell Chris! I'm the one who goes to work around here and I don't even get a sodding biscuit with my tea!"
"I was hungry. I'm sorry."
"Well you can bloody well go up the shops for me now then."
"Mum!" Chris protested but was already hauling himself from the sofa. It was no use complaining.
SpongeBob missed his old spatula. It wasn't as shiny, or as fast, but it was trusted and proven.
"Take a tenner out of my purse. Bread, milk, biscuits and a four pack of baked beans."
"Beans on toast? For dinner?"
Shirley appeared in the hallway to check that her son was taking the right amount of money from her purse. She'd need some for cigarettes.
"They've cut my shift at work. I get paid Friday, then we can do a big shop."
"For fuh..."
"What?"
"Nothing mum. I love beans on toast."
Chris never spoke like that when is father was in, he didn't speak much at all.
He waved the ten pound note like a white flag, tucked it into his pocket and gave his mum a half-hearted teenage smile.
As he put on his coat and left the front door, it never occurred to him that he'd never see his mother again. When he looked back on that day, he would always wish it was his father that had sent him to the shops. He welcomed his father's death.
The street outside was filled with square houses and round cars. In one of them sat his mother's killer.
YOU ARE READING
Underlings (Not being updated at this time)
Science FictionAn ongoing sci-fi series: A man disappears in an airport and re-appears just days later having aged by 30 years... Landry hears of drugs being peddled to make people subordinate, abductions, possible time travel. When a planet invades itself, only...
