Democracy

Flash

We return to the hallway.
"I was thinking, since I'm transferring to Paul's school. Maybe we all should. We have more than enough recruits from the current schools we're at. We might be in need of a base school. But since you did all the research into the places, I better ask you. Obviously I'll be transferring anyway just I was wondering if all the rest of us would too." Harriet nods.
"I still have all the files in the office but, from what I can remember, it would be a pretty good school to set up in. A lot of potential recruits, which is, of course, why we sent Paul in. The crime rate around that area is high with such a dense population so a couple kids going missing will definitely cause large ripples but no waves, and barely anybody would lift an eyebrow to an increase in dealers. The school itself is mixed level. We wouldn't even need to be working at A's to be considered good students. Unfortunately, it did have a long waiting list. Paul said that a couple staff thought his sudden appearance was a bit out of the ordinary. If a group of people turn up the mums of the waiting list children will cause a riot." Harriet is always the person to ask for things like this. Her memory is impeccable.
"So, a couple weeks at the school. Then we release Keiran and Michael and Cillian and Ben alongside a brand of some sorts. We become real." She smiles and nods. Before breathing a sigh of relief. "Good planning meeting for just a walk to the office." She laughs. I swing round to open the door.
The office isn't much of an office. Books line the walls like a library. Pool tables and table tennis sit in the corner like a games room. Several stereos and shelves of records and cd's and MP3 players rest in the other corner like a music room. The only thing making the office and office is the four filing cabinets at the edge of the room and our regular meetings that are held in here. Chuck has draped himself across a sofa and is banging his head to some music whilst Paul sits shuffling through a deck of cards in the large armchair. I remove Chuck's headphones.
"Meeting." I tell him. He blinks his eyes shut and he moves his leg to sit properly on the sofa. Paul drops the cards on the side table.
Harriet places a piece of paper down in front of me. I scribble down the topics of discussion. It's all stuff I just talked to Harriet about but the others need to hear it as well. Chuck says he wants to talk about some of the dealers at his school. Paul's black eye reminds me to talk about Dorian. Once finished I push the paper into the middle of the table.
"First topic of discussion," I stand up off the chair and reposition myself to let my legs dangle across the arms as my head rests against the back. "The four people dead today. Keiran, Michael, Cillian and Ben."
"Wait what?" Chuck interrupts. "I thought you were really looking forward to turning Keiran into a recruit." I nod slowly. It's true. I really was. I so wanted to see that smug smile wiped off his face. I wanted to control him.  But although he was right, Chuck did interrupt me so I break his finger. He gasps in shock but doesn't do anything more.
"Don't interrupt me." I snap. "Keiran shot me a couple times. I stabbed him. Michael was also stabbed, Harriet did that, he'd used supplies. I'd delayed his punishment and nobody had come forward so Ben and Cillian were killed too. All have stab wounds. I want to peg them up, start the branding."
"I'm gonna say this all again." Paul says. "Branding just means more police attention. It's better being unknown, we can kill whoever and it goes away so much more easily. C'mon Luke," I snap his finger. He doesn't stop talking. "Our sales are already good. We have so many men-"
"Men who are perfect footsoldiers. They can help us against the police." Harriet busts in. "They're all too scared of Luke to be scared of the police." Her finger is the next to be broken.
"She's right Paul," Chuck chimes in, "they're perfect footsoldiers." I nod.
"We need to come out of the shadows at some point and I think a couple weeks will be perfect for us." I state.
"Why?" Paul asks.
"Moving onto item 2." Harriet calls. Chuck leans forward and crosses out item 1 on the list.
"We are all going to move to Paul's school tomorrow." Chuck groans. I break his left leg. "Express your opinion in words not grunts."
"Fine!" Chuck shouts. "I am officially pissed off at this. Paul gets into one fucking fight so hey ho we're all moving there to cuddle and support him. Why don't we just take Dorian, y'know, off the database? I don't want to bloody move again! I'm making progress!" His volume does little but increase throughout his entire temper tantrum.
"Dorian is the last item on the agenda. We will wait to talk about him then." Harriet states.
"Why are you all coming to the school?" Paul asks. "I thought it was just you coming Luke."
"I think it's time to set up a base. Maybe come a little out of hiding. From there we can build an image. I mean, obviously, we're not going to declare to the world that we are a bunch of pyschopaths running a drug cartel headed by some guy with powers at blady bla secondary school, more just to taunt them. More like there's a drug cartel being run in this area and they're gonna be watching everybody's moves."
"You can watch people's moves from all the other schools," Paul whines.
"Yes but we can't communicate actively. It seems the best way, Paul." He scoffs. I break his leg. "Words not grunts. We're not apes."
"I have said all I can. This situation will be ruined if you all come and group at the school." He pouts like a sulking toddler.
"It sounds like a good idea to me." Chuck says. "Moving schools sucks but at least we'll be starting this company properly."
"Ok so Harriet's in, Chuck's in, Paul's out and I'm still in, so you guys better be ready to move school tomorrow."
"Moving onto item 3. Chuck?" Harriet announces.
"At the moment, there are six active recruits at my school. Except 3 of them didn't get their process completed by Luke, but by Saul. He cut them up pretty badly, in a literal way, obviously, but I think they're gearing up to take us down. I've been watching them and they've been creating their own dealers and dealing outside of their specified hours. The other recruits have been watching them too. One of them is in the facility, here. Nobody has said anything to me, not told me to carry a message or nothing."
"Why can't we just introduce them to Luke?" Paul asks. Chuck begins to shake his head.
"It wouldn't cha-"
"If we give them a different leader to the original one they'll just become more confused and potentially more angry. The other recruits, the ones that haven't said anything, we should kill at least one of them. Maybe two of the offending recruits, that'll put a stop to it and anybody else's similar plans if they hear." Harriet nods.
"We can't just very well immediately kill them though. We should wait until we're done with Keiran and the other three. Then the recruits can be a further warning." She says. Chuck nods. Paul does the same.
"Ok that's the plan. We'll take the recruit in this facility and leave the offending recruit who seems most unsure about what they're doing." I tell them. After a moment, they all nod.
"Moving onto item 4, Dorian. Paul?"
"Dorian is a kid whose in most of my classes except maybe three. I'd gone and collected some money from some recruits and a portion of it was in my pocket. He tried to take it out as he walked past. I caught him. Beat him a bit. He managed to hit me, kick my leg a couple times. A teacher split us up-"
This time I do the interrupting having found my temper to have risen hot and red through his whole speech.
"For fuck sake Paul!" I shout over the crack of most of his bones breaking. He screams and I break his jaw and it falls below its natural position. Harriet tries to move forward to stop me but I push her back against the chair. I don't only break bones. "Why the hell did you let it get out of hand so quickly? Why did you let him land a punch on you!"
Paul is crying. Harriet is screaming at me and Chuck is doing the same. I scream at the wall letting most of my anger out and I let him go. His jaw clicks back into place. I stand up and turn around.
The room is silent excusing Paul's attempts at getting his breath back.
The silence lingers for several moments.
"This guy, Dorian," I say breaking the silence, allowing the anger I still hold to shine through my voice. "We'll make him a recruit, skip the whole blackmail thing. Get him as a dealer as quickly as possible. Then we'll make him a recruit. Then we pin Keiran and the other 3 up. Then he can help us with the offender's bodies and then we can kill him and put him in with them." I turn back to look at them. Reluctantly they all seem to nod. They don't care that we are going to kill him. They care that our plans seem to revolve around him. Paul is the last to nod and before he even moves, I yell again. "Look, Paul, if you hadn't been such a fucking embarrassment today, none of these plans would be made. We'd be fucking secure! If you, if you make any more fucking cock ups I'm going to leave your jaw hanging next time!" He nods.
I turn and leave slamming the door behind me. Saul stands outside.
I head towards the stairs.
As soon as I reach the training area, a knife is being flung at the target on the wall. Bullseye.
Saul waits by the door as I continue to fling knives at the target landing them in varying lengths from the middle. Eventually, I grow bored. I move to the punching gloves.
"Saul, come here," I say and toss him a pair of gloves. We often do this. I think we both enjoy it. It's hard to tell with Saul.
I pull on my gloves and charge at him swinging at his hand. He dodges and lands a punch on my gut. The impact pushes me back and in retort I swing an uppercut into his face. We're both too offensive, we forget our guards. We begin to jab at each other and half an hour later, we're both bored and exhausted so I return to the knife throwing. After a while, I decide to leave the training room.
Time to go check on Keiran. The room where the bodies are kept is, naturally, cold. The guard stands when I enter. The doctor does the same and leads me to where Keiran's body is. They didn't clean up the blood- they paused him. The blood doesn't roll away from him even in its wet state and his face doesn't sag- it stays in that petrified expression.
I ask for a blowtorch.
It's not the most efficient way to brand someone but it works all the same. By the end of the routine, Keiran has a diamond burnt into his skin made from four large circles. I show it to the doctor and tell him to do the same to all the other bodies. He doesn't say anything as I leave.
We head upstairs towards the dining room. Paul, Chuck and Harriet are inside eating in silence.
"I've decided," I say walking in, not bothering to greet them, "we won't need to bother with all the identity stuff. We'll get all the current dealers and turn them into recruits. Then they can be our entourage, our supposed protection. The more time they spend around us the more scared they'll get-"
"You, the more times they spend around you, Luke. They're only scared of us because of you." Chuck interrupts calmly. I break all the fingers on his left hand. "Why are we even here? What purpose do we have? Nobody cares about us unless they know we know you." Paul nods behind him. I take a breath.
"I've told you before Chuck," I sit down with a plate. "You're all here because I like you. You're all here because you can kill. And you're all here because I want you here and I want to hear your opinions even if you think I am constantly disregarding them." I pause taking a sip of water. "If you think they aren't scared of you. I'm telling you to go wild. Take a knife in, stab the recruits, cut them, mark them, make them scared of you. Do whatever. Just don't keep on giving me reasons to kill them and we're fine." I take another sip of my water. "In other words. Go wild."
I shove away from the table.
None of them had expected this. They're usually kept on a tight reign around others. I can't have them spilling secrets that I know they won't spill. But we're becoming a company and I need them. It works for our branding. The four horsemen.
I sleep well.
In the morning I pull on a t-shirt and some jeans. Harriet sorted out our positions at the school last night. We may not be known to the police yet but we do have our connections. Fortunately, our uniform hasn't yet arrived.
Saul takes me in in the BMW. I meet Harriet and Chuck in reception. All of us have tutor together. Harriet, Chuck and Paul share all the same classes. I deviate in 3 of the lessons- I'd like to watch this Dorian more closely.
According to school records the four of us are the Pine family. The three are supposedly siblings whilst I'm their cousin. It worked better, appearance wise. The three each have brown hair and green eyes. I look very different with my black eyes and blonde hair. I would never pass as a sibling, even if I wanted to.
The bell has gone when we find our tutor room. The teacher introduces us in relation to Paul and then immediately separates us to sit on opposite sides of the room.
I sit at the back next to a large boy who keeps fiddling with the ball by his bag. Ah a football player, perfect. Opposite me is a small girl who plays with her thumbs. Next to her is a broad-shouldered short boy. He is drumming his fingers against the table and occasionally shooting glances in Paul's direction. His lip is swollen. I'm guessing this is the famous Dorian.
Football player tries to introduce himself to me as Sam. I smile at him slightly and ask him a couple questions, barely listening to the answers. I introduce myself to the girl who meets eyes with me and quietly tells me her name is Delila but says little in response to any questions. I don't think Dorian even notices me until I try to introduce myself. Even then all be does it glare up at me.
"Dorian," he grumbles before returning to staring at his hands.
"You're the one who had a fight with Paul," he nods without looking up. My blood begins to boil with anger- people never ignore me when I am talking to them. Rather than torturing the boy, I begin to crack bones in my own hand, listening to the noise, letting it calm me. It doesn't hurt anymore. I turn to jock boy Sam. "He gave Paul a black eye. Most people never even land a hit on him." Sam frowns.
"You mean Paul Pine, right?" He asks. I nod. He laughs a bit. "Oh god, I think you've got your information wrong. Paul's a scrawny mess; his punches couldn't bruise a baby." His words melt into chuckles. It irritates me.
"He's my cousin," I tell him. He pauses before beginning to laugh harder.
"Ah, I bet you're weaker than him then, you look pretty skinny, maybe that's why you think he's strong- because you're so weak," he begins to laugh. I watch him silently.
Then I move my hand to sit upon the table and I wave it.
His head slams against the desk and he groans.
His head slams against the desk again and when it comes up it looks purple.
Once again his head slams against the desk leaving a red puddle on the surface and twisting his nose out of shape.
It's my turn to chuckle. The teacher noticed his bloody noise and charges over demanding to know what happened.
"He tripped miss. Seems he couldn't keep his elbow on the table," I tell her amused. She scowls at me but looks across to Delila who nods along with my story. Then Sam lets out a groan and the teacher rushes him away. I smirk across at Paul, who simply gives me a shocked but laughing expression and turns back to his table. I look at Delila. "Why'd you agree?"
She shrugs.
"I don't want to accept whatever the shit you just did and Sam's a prick anyway." She forgets about me and looks back at her book.
Dorian is staring at me.
I ignore him and go back to breaking the bones in my hand.
Once the bell has sung its sullen chord, the familiar boredom of people and their monotonous conversations grips me again. Harriet, Chuck and Paul walk together behind me. Even they talk about unimportant things- the look of their new classmates, how they spent the tutor time, the lesson they have next. We all file into PE, with irritation knowing that the easy crap they'll have us do will barely make us break a sweat. According to the teacher we're doing long distance running. Half the kids walk most of the 10000 metres. We're done at least three minutes before everyone else. Dorian comes fifth but six closely follows him. Whilst we wait for the rest of the class, Harriet comes to stand by me.
"What happened with the boy?" I look at her with a question on my face. "The one who left with a broken nose." She clarifies.
"Oh, he pissed me off. Called Paul weak, said I was weaker." After a couple moments she shrugs and grunts in approval.
"You were serious about the lax covers then?" I nod and give her a look that reads as 'obviously.' "Just remember not to kill Dorian until you should." I look at her rolling my eyes and head to the teacher who is beckoning us together. They say some crappy stuff about how we must be tired and we need to get hydrated and how they're proud of our efforts. I forget to listen to most of it.
The next lesson is maths and it's just me and Dorian for this one, none of the others. When we get there we sit in tables for two in alphabetical order. Being Lucas Pine and Dorian Peters, we're put beside each other. Instructions are given out on a sheet. Apparently we have the lesson to answer problem solving questions as if we were running a business. The first one is about an employee who makes 20 good quality shirts in a batch worth £10 that sell within 4 days and another employee who makes 100 bad quality shirts worth £5 that sell within 10 days and who the manager should fire to get the best monthly profits. In my business, they'd both be fired, to set an example. If I need more than 20 'shirts' I get more than 20 'shirts'. I work out that the poorer worker who makes more would definitely be able to make £1500 and the better worker who makes less would definitely be able to make £1400 in a month of 30 days. So I fire the worker who makes fewer shirts. I notice Dorian does the opposite since he suggests the worker who makes more shirts can has a much lower chance of making a profit larger than £1500 than the worker who makes fewer shirts has of making a profit larger than £1400. He isn't wrong but I work on definitives not chance.
The next question is answered similarly. Me, answering according to fact, and him answering according to what could happen.
Our lesson continues the same- both of us in dead silence getting different answers each time.
Finally the bell rings, ending the silence. I need to find Paul and map out where the dealers are. Within 5 minutes of searching, I find the trio in the canteen, at a side table. Rather than go over, I just gesture for them to come on and I head out of the building. Paul catches up and leads me around to the edge of the English block. The guy on the corner is apparently called Josh. I watch him for a minute as he deals and then I approach.
"Hello Josh," he stiffens hearing my voice, he hasn't even seen me yet. He turns around cautiously. "Over there," I nudge my head, pointing to my trio of leaders, paying no attention to Josh's apparent fear, "Harriet, Paul and Chuck are to be listened to at all times. This lunch, I expect to see you in the canteen at our table." His eyes flicker and he fidgets. "Unless, of course, you want another session with me?" I don't wait for any response before walking away. He got the message.
Next up is Francis, Dan, Tom, Lily, Elijah and surprisingly, last of all, Samuel. Paul got most of the dealers through quickly to become recruits- he always chose the smart ones. Samuel isn't in his usual position so I'll wait until I can talk to him tomorrow.
The next couple of lessons go remarkably slowly. At one point I begin to make the teacher choke purely out of boredom. Delila continues to sneak glances across at me, which I completely ignore. Dorian stays focussed on his ever so interesting palms throughout all the lessons.
By lunch, I am done with everything and only stop myself from killing somebody in the canteen by breaking the bones in my hand and, at moments, Chuck's as well. At the beginning of the break time, Paul goes missing but he returns pretty quickly with blood on his cuff and a little smug smile on his face. The table is full when he returns but the dealers quickly clear out of the way for him. The recruits are most definitely more cautious at the table, a couple are shaking. Whereas, the dealers have varying reactions- some are nervous, some are confused, others just seem happy to be doing something their parents would disprove of. Overall there are about 12 people sitting at the table. 16 including me and the trio. It isn't enough.
The dealers seem to treat Paul with respect, so I let him talk to them first. He greets them all, we had agreed beforehand- the last one he greets is the scapegoat- the boy is muscular and confident looking; I so want to shatter him. So I do, but he doesn't scream and overall it's a little disappointing but it works as the group hear the bones clicking and see the changes in his body as it is misshapen by me. They don't get very scared until I start breaking their fingers. But in the end, we don't have enough time for a full session and for the instructions to be given.
"We're going to make this school important." Pride is the easiest sin for people to get behind, so I play on that. "But for that to happen we need more dealers. In two days we want to have at least 40 candidates names and some reasoning. Then we'll begin the next stage, recruitment and training, and for some of the lucky ones, promotion. In that we'll be really getting the new dealers involved in our cause the same way you all are now, with a couple broken bones and the illusion of entrapment anything is possible. Training will be mainly learning to fight- where is best to stab a person to paralyse of kill, best places to aim for in a fist fight, how to shoot. Promotion will allow some of you to earn more money and have a say in many of our movements, in other words you'll get more control. Now of course if any of you don't want to be involved in any of this, you can walk away, just be aware that if you do run away you are liable to being cut as deeply as Chuck, Harriet or Paul please and getting at least two broken bones. So go find some new fucking dealers." I tell them. Their faces each grew increasingly more worried throughout the speech. It was delightful. They leave pretty quickly once I've finished.
The next lesson I have is art, which is definitely not my best subject. I might just end up sending my pencil right through somebody's head in this lesson. When I arrive, it turns out we're using scalpels- even better. I find a space at the back and begin twirling the little knife in my hand, ignoring the teacher. It's only when the police walk in that I begin to pay attention. They have a quiet conversation with the teacher for a minute. Then she pokes her head up.
"I don't know... Ah Luke," she looks across at me. "The policemen would like the talk to you." I give her a confused look before bending down to grab my bag and walking the length of the classroom to the door. The policemen watch me cautiously.
Outside the room, I am met with the headteacher and another police officer.
"What's happening?" I ask.
One police man turns to me.
"You are Luke Pine, yes?" I nod. "And you only moved here today, correct? From lilygreen crescent?" I nod again. "Did you know a boy called Keiran Bradshaw?" I nod. "Did you see him yesterday?" I nod again.
"In Pe, and at break. We weren't friends and I didn't really know him very well. What's wrong with him?" A police officer behind the one speaking is writing notes in his pad.
"Keiran was reported missing by his mother early this morning. He didn't come home. Witnesses said they saw you with him, getting into your car. Was what they say correct?" I allow them to think I'm hesitating when I pause and look at the ground, wringing my hands.
"I- We- well he, he asked a friend to give him a lift but his friend couldn't do it so his friend asked me so I gave him a lift but that's all I swear he got out and he seemed fine and I didn't go in, I just drove away." I talk quickly as if nervous. "Do you think he'll be ok?"
The policeman nods. "If you tell us all you know, I'm sure he will be. Where were you giving him a lift to?"
I pause and begin to scratch my head a little then wring my hands then press my hand against my head then wring my hands all the way bumbling incomprehensible words.
"Son?"
Oh god, I so want to stab him.
"Uh-uh-um, he, he wanted to go- to go to- to the- uh - the... the p- pub. He wanted to go to the pub on Richardson street. He-man he said, he was meeting a girl-- he said she was going to play with him. And I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken him. Oh it's all my fault. I'm so sorry."
The police officer puts a hand on my shoulder.
"It's ok, boy. It's not your fault. We just need to verify your story. Who's the friend Keiran originally asked to give him a lift?"
"Nathan- Nathaniel Davis," the policemen scrawls down his name. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. I'm so stupid. God, it's all my fault." I begin to cry. " I should have known not to. Oh Jesus, I'm so sorry." I begin to bawl my eyes out. The policemen try desperately to comfort me until the head says she will call my parents to come pick me up.
Saul picks up on the first ring. He agrees to come and get me. So I wait five minutes, keeping up the sad boy act. It's hell. But it has to be done.
When Saul arrives, the head escorts me to the car and I thank her still crying. It's only when we drive away that I stop with the stupid act. Saul chuckling all the way.
"Ah for God sake," I breathe out relieved to be able to stop. "Take me to Billy Meadow." Billy Meadow isn't actually a meadow, more a large alley where we give out the supply to the dealers. Nathaniel will be due to collect his supply today. When I get there, Rupert- the guy in charge of this area- greets me with nerves as he striaghtens himself up and quickens his breathing. The recruits present do the same. The dealers don't know me and don't react. I change that quickly as I push everybody back against the wall and sit down on the truck next to Rupert. The dealers struggle against the invisible force holding them back; the recruits try to stay as still and as inconspicuous as possible. By the end of five minutes all the dealers have copied the recruit's attitudes after a few broken spines and having all broken at least two ribs. After ten minutes, Nathaniel finally arrives. He gives a look of shock seeing me  and he does what everybody else has done- he straightens his back, takes a gulp of air and wipes his palms against his jeans.
"Nathaniel," I greet. He smiles a bit out of politeness. Then he walks over to me keeping his eyes fixed to the ground. "As you have probably guessed, Keiran is dead." He fidgets. "But his body is very important to my plans, so I would like it to rest undiscovered. Yes?" He nods slowly, never once looking up. "So I need you to tell the police that he asked you to give him a ride to the pub on Richardson street so he could see some girl but you asked me to do it instead. Got it?" He nods. "Good good," Saul comes forward holding out a simple knife. "Use this on yourself if they try to arrest you, though I doubt they will. And don't take any supplies, if they find any on you you'll get arrested. Do you understand?" He nods again. "Great. Oh and Nathaniel," he nods and I pull him towards me so my mouth is at his ear. "If you fuck this up, you'll endure the longest death anybody has ever had to experience. Got it?" He nods hurriedly and I let him go. He rushes back. I wave my hand uselessly to release the dealers from the wall and then I hop off the truck and head toward the car.
We head to the proper house rather than the crappy garage attachment.
I hand my bag to Saul to take inside and then I head in the opposite direction to the house towards the footpath. After a day like today, I need to clear my head. Plus, it's about now that the boy always turns up.
Rather than walking, I start to sprint down the path jumping over the gates in my way. At the gate leading into the woods, I stop. And I sit. Atop the gate. I pull up my hood. And I wait.
Only 10 minutes later, he turns up. He also has his hood drawn over his head. And as usual, his too long headphones dangle in front of him as he walks, as he sings.
He never sees me when I sit here. Some days I even follow him until he reaches his home. It's his singing- it's... transfixing. His identity seems so unimportant just as long as I can hear that voice each morning or evening when I want to. Today, I follow him. It's an easy job since he fixes his music up to the loudest volume either that or the headphones are just simply crappy and cheap; I think it's both. For the 20 minute walk, I forget about any business at home. Like I said, his singing, it's, it's enchanting. I sit on his gate once he has gone through it and I watch. His house is large but a wreck. Something that was once probably delightfully pretty has fallen and been forgotten. There is movement within as the boy's mother greets him. She looks scared. I think the dad is abusive. It's at this stage that I remember my business back home. On the walk back I always think over and over and always come to the same conclusion, the abusiveness of the household and my lack of involvement makes me feel guilty and guilt is a feeling I associate with the business not the boy whose voice enchants me. I don't want him to hurt but in my heart, I know that if I go in there and hurt his dad, he'll hate me forever, and I will never know him. So I never get too close. I never try to peek under the hood. I never go after the father. I always feel guilty.
When I reach my own house, I make the same resolution as I always do- to forget about the boy until the next time I see him, until the next walk in the woods.