The Dead Gambler

The Dead GamblerÓ

by GERALD NEAL

CHAPTER 1

I awoke from the tatty armchair with a start knowing something was wrong and there was something I was supposed to do about it but the whisky fuddled my brain. Then it came to me and I glanced at my watch. “Crap!” I muttered and levered myself out of the chair, found my shoes, put them on, checked my pockets for cash and keys then made for the door.

Stumbling down the stairwell I picked up speed as I went down the three flights before nearly crashing into Zoë’s damn bicycle on the ground floor hallway. Sliding past it I opened the street door and ventured out into the bright midday sun that blinded me for a few steps on the paved terrace that was booby-trapped with binbags. The next obstacle in my way was the granite steps that led down to street level. These had to be taken with some care or if I missed one I’d lose some teeth or worse. Onto the pavement I rushed across the road checking my watch again. This was like one of those dreams I thought, when I was running away in slow motion with the disaster or monster catching me up fast.

Then a shortcut across the pub carpark with my heart racing, I jogged to the next road that appeared to move further away as I approached it, but finally across safely I then passed a sobering omen – the local undertakers. At last in the High Street my goal came into sight, the betting shop.

I grabbed the door handle and hurried inside where I had two visions at the same moment, one of the large frame of Roy who’d seen me enter and wanted to chitchat, while out of the corner of my other eye, the first in a long line, a TV monitor was showing my race with the heading; ‘At the post’.

“Crap!” I muttered again to myself as I grabbed a betting slip, a complimentary pen and ignoring Roy’s rambling chitchat I scribbled the necessary details, signed it with ‘TO WIN’ with the amount in the box required. Looking up I noticed that thankfully the betting window was clear and Alice wasn’t chitchatting to her stupid boyfriend on the phone so all I had to do was get across the room to the window before the race start bell sounded. My senses fully alert now, I’d heard between Roy’s chitchat that a horse was playing up before the grooms unceremoniously shoved it into his starting box. This might have just given me the time I needed to get my bet on as my mind swirled with racing adrenalin. At the window I slammed down the betting slip followed by the wodge of notes I’d pulled from my pocket.

“No price.” I gasped finally remembering to breath.

“Wow big one today Jake!” Alice cooed as she expertly stamped my bet and cheerfully counted the cash. At that same moment I heard the bell go, they were off. Taking my slip and holding it tight as if it were a life preserver I forced myself to go to the monitor and watch the race. My horse, Indian Summer was in the lead.

“Shit!” I muttered as Roy sidled up to me for more mind numbing chitchat.

“Watcha got?” He asked me.

“Indian Summer.” I answered with my eyes fixed on the race.

“He’s in the lead.” Roy pointed out infuriatingly.

“I know. Bloody hate that.”

“Yeah me too. Means he got going too quick too fast an gonna run out of steam.” At that moment and if I had a gun, I might have shot Roy dead there and then. They came around the last bend and Indian Summer was still leading but the gap to the second horse was closing fast.

“COME ON YOU LAZY BASTARD!” I yelled at the monitor. No one laughed as they’d all been there and knew that awful sick sinking feeling I now had.

“He ain’t gonna make it.” Muttered Roy darkly but I was too busy to strangle him right now, later maybe.

“COME ON!” I urged, but the second horse was catching him and once again that day, I had the flashback of that slow motion chasing dream.

They were coming up to the line now neck and neck with both horses stretching themselves fully toward the finishing post, but the second horse got a nose in front.

“Oh crap.” I muttered again as the commentary confirmed my worse nightmare; Indian Summer was second. Screwing up the slip I threw it into the bin with all the other losers and walked back out into the street in shock as Roy continued to chitchat behind me, but my world had gone silent. It was official – I was now homeless as well as broke, that bet was my rent money and I was already three months behind.

CHAPTER 2

Back at my attic flat that had been my home for the last five years the bailiffs were already at work tipping my stuff out onto the street to join the other binbags and were busy changing the locks, but if Indian Summer had won I could have cleared that with a drink on top.

“Got any cash? I don’t take cheques they tend to bounce like their owners after I’ve found them again!” The head honcho bailiff growled at me as I pleaded my case.

“No, not right now but I can get some… soon!” I spluttered back. He looked at me without pity and pushed me aside to throw my tatty armchair out into the street with my other crap that they couldn’t be bothered to stuff into their rusty van.

“Won’t be needing that then will yer?” Then leaning toward me he said with menace, “Now be a nice fellow and do one before I do you for a hospital bed.”

I was in serious trouble. Flats come and go but the golden rule of gambling is never lose your stake money and now I had no way of getting back in the game. Leaving the binbags filled with my old clothes and other junk out on the street I strolled back to the betting shop to beg for a stake. I was now ready to talk terms with Roy but he was having none of it.

“No can do.” Replied Roy still stung by my earlier attitude toward him. “Not doing so well myself mate, three seconds in a row and my accumulator just went south. Try Pat, he had a win yesterday.”

So I tried Pat and still no deal. “Sorry Jake lost it all on the last race. Can you believe that? A four horse race and the favourite falls over at the first bend! Not even over the sticks … Jesus!”

My next port of call was the library and the Internet. About the only thing I knew about the Internet was how to apply for credit cards. At the computer I dialled up the credit card section and found the bad credit section with high interest rates. No worries about that as I had no intention of paying them back anyway. Carefully I put in my bogus information about my name, employment, and phone numbers but with my last address as someone would buzz me in for my post. Within seconds the computer said NO and it continued to say NO with loans, bank accounts and salary advances.

From the library I went back to the High Street and to the many banks that plied their trade. I was rejected from each and every one. My line of credit had been well and truly severed and I was now penniless as well as homeless. So not giving up I went to the council housing office to try and put a roof over my head.

“I’m sorry mister Bolton but we do not house people who have made themselves homeless.” said the woman behind the glass screen flatly.

“What?”

“I have your file here. You have a marital home mister Bolton?”

“That I am not allowed to go near!” I butted in.

“Indeed. A court order I believe. You walked out five years ago then tried to re-mortgage the property without your wife’s consent.” She glared at me as if I had just appeared from hell itself.

“Well it is mine, I paid for it!” I said trying not to lose my temper.

“And now I see you have just been evicted from Orwell Road for non-payment of rent. That is what we term as making yourself homeless.” She then managed to flash me a smug grin before continuing her well-rehearsed recital. “Also we have no obligation to house single males with no children. Good day mister Bolton!” With that the shutter came down with a crash.

My next stop was the unemployment job centre. My most unfavourite place on this known Earth.

“I need to make a crisis loan.” I began to the exasperated ‘Client Advisor’ who knew me only too well. “I’ve just been evicted from my flat and I need enough for a deposit on a new place. Just a bedsit would do.” I begged.

“I’m sorry mister Bolton but you’ve had three crisis loans and two social loans in the last year. Therefore we are unable to help you any further.”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the burly security guard advance toward the ‘Client Advisor’ and myself as we sat in our awkward impasse. I guess the manager who’d had a grudge against me ever since I’d signed on unemployed with no bank statements had tipped him off that I was here to make more trouble. There weren’t any bank statements because by then I’d walked away from my previous life leaving it to Kate to sort out. She wanted me out and keep the house; she could have the lot bills and all.

So back out on the street I headed aimlessly toward the seafront. I’d chosen this quiet seaside town because the rent was cheap and there was also little employment, so I wouldn’t be bugged by minimum wage factory job offers, which fitted in nicely with my once hectic gambling schedule.

My parents had discovered the town during my childhood years and we would come here every year during the summer months to stay for two weeks at the Hi Di Hi Holiday Camp located further down the coast. For me then it was like visiting another planet as we stepped aboard the train from our smog ridden noisy south London to alight and breathe in the fresh sea air of Dovercourt and listen to the mocking calls of the seagulls. How I missed those simple easy days now, and my loving parents both of whom were taken early by cancer in my late teens.

Sitting in a seafront shelter staring out to sea my past life closed in on me, as did the weather that became ever darker and full of storm promise. I’m getting far too old for this crap I mused, I should be putting my slippered feet up in front of a cosy fireplace and a big plasma TV with a large Scotch in my mitt. I still had all my own ginger hair and white teeth but I’d also gotten fat and lazy over the last few years and that didn’t sit well on my five foot nine frame but what the hell, no one’s perfect.

I’d also thought that I’d being close to my retirement age of sixty and grab my pension but the latest bank collapse and the new government now said that I had to plough on for another five years looking for jobs that didn’t exist. But going back to the treadmill was out of the question for me now as the gambling bug had bitten and bitten hard. So a kind of Mexican standoff now existed between the Department of Works and Pensions and myself. I got by on the dole ok as I didn’t smoke, or drink that often and I only gambled what I could afford. That was until now when after a lean period I got greedy broke my own rules and gambled more than I should have, including my rent money – then my stake money.

After leaving school and as I was good with figures, I joined an accountancy firm as a junior accountant but after several attempts at becoming a fully qualified accountant life conspired against me with various mishaps and I constantly failed my accountancy exams until I finally gave up and took the boring insurance job in London and then made the biggest mistake of all… I got married. Kate my wife knew me in my previous life as a steady respectable hard workingman and knew instinctively that was the life for her. But time and time again I’d let her down until she decided that enough was enough and it was time to part.

She hated failure but I just considered it part of life… a gamblers’ thought maybe, you win some and you lose some. Life goes on and you work with the hand you are dealt. But as she pointed out so energetically so many times; “Clichés don’t pay the bills!” After years of working in an office I became restless and weary of been ordered about by some spotty hapless pratt of a manager at work who’d never taken a chance in his life, only then to be ordered about by the missus when I finally got home after fighting my way onto a crowded train every night.

It was more than I could stand. So one night after picking up my last month’s wages I gave up on my previous working life and became a professional gambler. I was still good with figures and had worked out a points system for horse racing after many lunchtime trips to the bookies next to my insurance office. It took into account the bloodline of the horse; it’s trainer, owner and the day’s jockey. Added to that would be the racecourse; its length, location, the going, such as hard, good or soft, then of course any previous form and ranking. Then finally, the race price. Whether it was worth an each way bet or straight win. Sometimes I’d add it to an accumulator or reverse forecast. The betting combinations are endless but the most satisfying by far, was a straight on the nose outright win. Nothing could beat that sense of exhilaration and satisfaction as your horse romps home to win outright, it was better than sex; well the sex I was getting that was for sure.

It all started out quiet well at first even though Kate hated the idea and promptly got a job with a local auction company doing their admin and cataloguing. All her life she craved stability and a regular wage packet, that was I guess in hindsight why she picked me as a partner, so when I went rogue she wanted out. Then of course my beginners luck ran out and I got desperate for more money. That was when I tried to re-mortgage the house with Kate’s fake signature. She got wind of it and kicked me out saying; “If you just go now, I won’t call the police.” Little did I know at the time she was having an affair with her married manager at work or I might of made more of a fight about it, but instead I did what she said and left our marital home. People might say that I was a perennial quitter but I say better that than going insane and slaughtering your family before commiting suicide. I was just working with the hand I was dealt.

So this was it I mused still staring out to sea as if it held the answer to my woes, I really had hit rock bottom as everyone who knew me had gleefully predicted and I’d literally lost everything including my precious stake money. This day had to come sooner or later but I hadn’t thought about that at all, only where and how I could get my next gambling fix. I stood up impatient to move on as a bolt of lightening shot across the sea followed by an almighty crash of thunder. Then another noise, a tinkling sound coming from somewhere inside the shelter, so I followed the sound and there flashing and buzzing furiously on the floor under the bench seat was a pink mobile phone. I reached out for it but before I could grab hold of it and press the yes button, it stopped ringing.

“Ha lost like me eh…” I muttered to myself as I picked it up and tried to figure out how it worked – mobiles and other gadgets had passed me by rather like eight-tracks, Carlos Fandango shiny go faster car wheels and VCR’s – still a total mystery.

Just down the road from the shelter was pawnshop where I sometimes cashed a few of my rare winners cheques and had also pawned stuff when broke so I walked toward it.

“Nah, this is last years model Dude… couldn’t give this away.” Announced the cocky young clerk loud enough for everyone in the shop to hear. So I slipped it back into my pocket and trudged back outside thinking maybe whoever had rang before would ring again… maybe the owner, who might also give a reward for its return – and that my friend is the eternal hope of the eternal gambler.

I peered up at the darkening sky as more black clouds scudded down the coast, so I followed them heading for the old childhood holiday camp that drew me unerringly toward it like a homing beacon. I was soaked to the skin by the time I’d got to the high chain-link fence that guarded the now deserted holiday camp. It was earmarked for demolition and development as cheap flights to Spain had stolen all of its previous customers that had resided here during the post war austere fifties and sixties. Houses would soon occupy the land where the hundreds of wooden ‘chalets’ stood close to the Olympic sized swimming pool, the Hawaiian Ballroom and bar plus the huge dinning room that had two sittings of breakfast, lunch and dinner in military style.

Moving around to the far side I found a gap in the fence where inquisitive local children had forced a way through. Inside the now overgrown site some of the joyful children’s laughter came flooding back to me along with flashbacks of my time spent here. Learning to swim with Uncle Flipper, as he was called, in the Olympic sized swimming pool that was now empty with weeds forcing their relentless growth through the cracked tiles. Then learning how to dive first from the pools edge before moving on to the springy diving board as admiring pre-teen girls looked on giggling at my industrious performances.

Ice creams in the sunshine watching the Punch and Judy Show – if he wasn’t too drunk that is. Donkey rides along the sandy beach in the morning, and then afternoons spent making massive sandcastles for the daily sandcastle competition. The happy winner getting a cheap fishing net and plastic bucket to explore the many rock-pools as the tide receded leaving weird and wonderful animals to be captured and studied. In short a kid’s paradise now lost to the mists of time and so called progress.

As the storm raged on around me I went directly toward the Hawaiian Ballroom main entrance that had been padlocked shut with a heavy metal security door. Searching around I found a large lump of flint rock and began battering at the hefty padlock. It finally gave way to the chipped flint and I wrenched the rusty door open on squeaky dry hinges that broadcast loudly to anyone around that I’d arrived.

Inside it was amazing, although almost without light the place looked exactly as I remembered it as a kid. It was as though time itself had just stopped still as the world outside rushed forward. Although come to think of it I’d only ever seen it in the dim evening light that showed off the huge spinning glitter-ball that hung from the ceiling sending spots of circling light over everyone and the brightly painted long bar that ran off into the distance and was decorated with fake plastic palm trees and flowers. Some nights I’d been allowed a brief ‘nightcap’ with my parents just before being dragged off to bed by a yellow-coat, as this was – as every kid knew – the grown-ups time. Wonder what health and safety would say about that these days I mused – sending your kid off to bed with a complete stranger.

Craning my neck I peered upwards and there it was, covered in cobwebs that hung down like a wispy wig, was the glitter-ball now very still. I suddenly shivered. “Someone walking over my grave… again!” I muttered, as my words seemed to echo down the deep dark hall.

Tables and chairs were still scattered around but now covered in years of thick dust. I brushed off one and plonked my weary wet body onto it with a deep sigh and as my eyes adjusted to the light further away from me, strange painted faces began to appear out of the gloom with manic grins. They of course were the wall murals of happy campers enjoying their holiday here – even if it killed them, and in some ways it had killed this place – this once lively noisy place was now officially dead, it just needed a funeral – and that would happen when the bulldozers moved in to build box-sized houses for the upwardly mobile masses.

That was when I heard that tinkling noise again; it was the phone I’d picked up.

“Hello.” I said after a few moments hesitation wondering what button to push.

“Who is this?” Screamed a woman’s voice from the tinny speaker, almost hysterical. “Where’s Becky? Why have you got her phone? What have you done with her?” She ranted at me. As she took a breath for her next tirade I managed to say; “I don’t know Becky… I found this phone -“

“Oh please don’t hurt her…” the voice had changed from bombastic to pleading, I found it hard to keep up but tried to explain. “Look…” I said in my most calming voice but it was to no avail – that was as far as I got.

“You bastard… you harm her and I’ll fuckin’ kill you… I’m calling the police you bastard… I know who you are and where you live!” The phone went dead.

“Not much chance of a reward there for the return of her phone.” I muttered to myself. Being alone a lot I got into the habit of talking to myself rather a lot, it seemed to help make sense of senseless situations. Talking of situations I now had to think of my own. Peering through the gloom of the ballroom I searched for a spot where I might lay my weary head tonight and my head was already throbbing badly from the whisky and stress. I also needed water and food but they were lower down on my wish list.

The hall itself was far too large to sleep in, rather like sleeping in the middle of an aircraft hanger – the thought of that creeped me out, I needed a corner of a small room with the comfort and security of a solid wall behind me. Also creeping me out was the faint noise of movement and squeaking deep into the far darkness beyond – I wasn’t alone in here. Over the years mice and possibly rats had moved in with God knows what else, so using Becky’s mobile phone for light I headed into the gloom to explore.

At the far end of the hall I turned to look back at the open doorway I’d come through that was now just a tiny glimmer of light in the distance. This part of the hall was also used as the dining area and had screens pulled across to separate it from the bar area during meal times, this was the first time I’d seen it all in one. Walking along the far wall I came across a door with a sign saying; PRIVATE: OFFICE STAFF ONLY. So I turned the doorknob and went inside. Sure enough there stood an old wooden desk with some tatty leather chairs scattered around in a carpeted room about ten feet square. There was even an ancient black Bakelite phone on the desk with a writing blotter next to it. I picked up the receiver but it had long been disconnected. I sat in the chair behind the desk and searched through the draws for anything useful, sure enough I found a box of candles and some matches.

Turning off the phone light, I lit a couple of candles and secured them to the desk with a few drops of molten wax.

“Very cosy.” I said happy to be reasonably safe and out of the raging storm outside. Plus I thought, there is always something comforting about sitting in the flickering candlelight that always make the most of a grim environment by enveloping the worst in shadow. Spinning my desk swivel chair around to the wood panelled wall directly behind me I scanned it for an opening… maybe a forgotten wall safe. All offices had secrets. Straight away I noticed that the left varnished wood panel stood proud of the right and appeared to sit on a grooved runner. I stood up and tried to slide the panel to the right but it wouldn’t budge. Standing up and grabbing one of the lighted candles I ran it up and down the panel, then along the bottom to the other side and sure enough what appeared to be a knothole was in fact a release button. Pressing the button and pushing on the panel to the right it began to slide smoothly across. Behind the panel was yet another wall – this time grey concrete but within that space was also a heavy metal door rather like a ship’s bulkhead door with a wheel handle set into it about a foot across and sturdy.

“What the hell is this?” I almost shouted startling myself and nearly dropping the candle that spilt hot wax onto my hand. “Ouch! Bugger.” I added confused whilst waving my hand about to cool the wax. Putting the candle down on the floor I slowly turned the wheel anti-clockwise. After two turns I heard a click and felt the resistance give way allowing the door latch to release as the door sprung outwards toward me by an inch or so. I eagerly pulled at the heavy sprung door and heaved it fully open but behind it was just a large black hole of complete darkness. Grabbing a fresh candle from the box I lit it and ventured to the edge of the blackness that gradually gave way to the flicking candlelight. Beyond the threshold of the steel door appeared to be a straight drop downwards, but on further inspection was in fact a concrete stairwell.

Slowly and cautiously I stepped over the threshold onto the first step down followed by another and another all the time hugging the wall with my hand, arm and shoulder as there was no handrail to cling onto. With my heart pounding and sweat pouring into my eyes, on the twelfth step (I counted them down in case my nerve failed and I needed to return) the staircase ended onto a short landing before turning one hundred and eighty degrees onto the next flight of stairs. At the bottom of these I found myself confronted by a short corridor and another closed heavy steel door much the same as the last one.

Once again I turned the wheel to release the door latch. Pulling the door open I held my breath as my mind raced in anticipation as to what might be behind this door. Another flight of stairs maybe but to where and to what end? I held my flickering candle over the threshold and waited for my eyes to pick out what was in there. Breathing once again, I could tell that the air was stale and stagnant like an unventilated room that has not been used for years also mixed in with that was concrete dust that was everywhere including floating around in the air. And it was indeed a room, a very large room; one that I had seen before on TV… a bunker, a nuclear bunker to be more precise. So even something as innocent as a family holiday camp had its very own deep dark secret, but who would hide in here? Certainly not the holidaymakers or staff members that was sure, there wasn’t enough room for them all.

Then maybe it was built just for the owner of the camp and his immediate family? I shivered at the thought… and then what? Stay down here for decades before venturing out onto a dead planet? It was beyond my understanding, but then that was the mindset of some folk in those dark days of the cold war. I just hoped I wouldn’t find any dead bodies or skeletons.

In one of the World War Two gun turret bunkers at Beacon Hill Fort further down the coast, two kids found what they thought was a mannequin, in fact it was the body of a guy who’d gone missing a full year before and had killed himself there.

To the left I could make out a kitchen area with a sink, taps and a cooker/oven. Then as I moved inside the room I could see beyond them were storage cupboards that lead to the far wall. A long bench that ran right along it had communication and electrical equipment on it – a short-wave radio, Teletype; all 1950’s or thereabouts plus a lot of electronic stuff I didn’t recognise. Above that stuff was a huge fusebox with thick cables running off in different directions. On the right of the room were the living quarters complete with dining table, chairs and bunkbeds.

“Wow, I’ve really hit the jackpot… rent free living accommodation!” I said quietly as if in a library – but was also concerned that I might disturb someone… or something that had lain dormant for the last fifty years or so.

CHAPTER THREE

I moved toward the big wall fusebox and stared up at it. I remembered seeing these types of fusebox before (but smaller) in houses as a kid many years ago. A large oblong silver metal box screwed to the wall with a red lever on one side and the thick cables streaming out of the base. Inside it I knew were big ceramic fuses with different thickness copper wires running across them according to the ampere flowing through them. I held the candle up to the lever that had three set positions; OFF (which it was at now) MAINS and GEN.

I guessed that OFF was obvious; everything was turned off. MAINS probably meant that it would connect to the outside national grid in peacetime and GEN would then be an internal generator for wartime.

Holding my breath I reached up grabbed the lever and pulled it down to the MAINS setting. Suddenly things began to buzz and whiir as the ancient big lightbulbs that hung from the ceiling flickered into life, as did a multitude of indicator lights on the electrical stuff scaring the hell out me as I dropped my redundant candle to the concrete floor.

“WOW!” I repeated to myself. “The mains are still on after all those years… so there must be a generator somewhere in here then as well!”

My head now throbbed even more with the excitement of my amazing discovery and eyes went straight to the kitchen area and the taps above the large ceramic sink.

“Maybe then…”

I walked toward the sink still dazzled by the bright light and again held my breath as I reached for one of the taps. If I had running water as well it would indeed make this strange bunker a fitting home and many of my troubles would be over. I turned the faucet that was stiff with old age to open and waited as nothing happened. Then after what appeared to be hours but was in fact only a minute or two, the tap began to make gurgling noises then spluttered a few times before rusty coloured water burst out in a torrent. A few more minutes later the rusty brown water turned to clear fresh tap water that I drunk from my cupped hands relishing every drop. This indeed was my day. Now all I needed was some food.

I eyed the storage cupboards further down the room and walked toward them.

“Surely not three out three! What would be the odds for that to happen? Hundred to one! Five hundred to one?” I asked myself. I’d had a couple of hundred to ones come in but they were rare and you had to be part crazy or drunk to bet on one but I’d never had a five hundred to one, that was just too far out there.

I opened the first storage cupboard, which was full of kitchen cleaning stuff, buckets and mops – my heart sank a little. Onto the next one and I blinked several times not believing what I was seeing – my five hundred to one had just come in. There in the cupboard were dozens of boxes of tinned food, all sorts from soup, fruit, custard to Irish stew and steak chunks still with their old fashioned labels on. As my mouth began to water into a dog like drool, I eagerly pulled out my first lunch in my new home – chicken in white wine sauce with new potatoes.

“Man I’m gonna live like a king in here! Where’s that tin opener?”

CHAPTER FOUR

I awoke on one of the bunkbeds still fully clothed as there was no bedding. I then burped, farted and groaned stretching my tired limbs as far as they would go. Blinking I scanned my surroundings wondering what the time was. No windows. No clock. No idea. Just the red glowing ceiling nightlight that threw dark shadows around the room. So I found the mobile phone that was in my jeans pocket to check and that was when I saw her face.

I’d pushed the wrong button trying to find the date and time and up popped the face of a teenage girl who I presumed was the owner of the phone… Becky the woman had said before she hung up. She wasn’t what you’d call real pretty but attractive enough in a vulnerable sort of way I suppose with big trusting eyes and a toothy grin. I sat staring at her for a few minutes pondering on what might have happened to her. Maybe nothing but that desperate angry voice of a parent I’d heard yesterday said otherwise. At least I presumed that was her mother that had screamed at me… If only she’d shut up for a minute then I could have explained.

Typical woman, shout and scream then slam the phone down… bloody drama queens. I searched for some more photos and found four others, three were of other teenage girls, in all probability her friends as they were all together laughing and messing around as teenagers do, but then the fourth one made my blood go cold.

The man in the pic stared back at the phone camera with steel grey eyes that did not know how to smile and I knew to whom they belonged. His street name was The Big Grey because of his size and those piercing grey eyes that you knew instinctively if they locked onto yours – you were in big trouble. Another link to his street name was his business – he was a lone shark specialising in gamblers that used the horse racing tracks and local bookies – and he was ruthless.

I’d used him once when I was a green horn and desperate and it nearly cost me an eye. Luckily as he held the knife to my left eye while two of his ‘assistants’ held me down on his floor of his tatty bungalow my last horse of the day, a rank outsider romped home on his plasma TV at twenty to one clearing all my debts with him. But as my horse crossed the line I could see the disappointment in those dead cold eyes of his – he would rather have taken my eye instead of my money but business was business and he let me go unharmed, if a little shaky. Needless to say I never went near him again. If this girl was involved with him, and I knew he liked hurting women just as much as men – maybe even more so, then she was in big trouble.

The phone said it was nine in the morning so I decided to go get some of my stuff that had been dumped outside my old flat – that was if it was still there and the dustmen hadn’t taken it yet. I closed the two air tight doors behind me, slid back the screen panel in the office and fumbled my way in the darkness toward the slither of light at the end of the ballroom reminding myself to find my torch as well. Pushing open the security door the dazzling daylight hurt my eyes. The thunderstorm had passed and it was a glorious sunny day outside in the old holiday camp.

I could almost hear the screams and laughs of the children next to the swimming pool along with the smell of suntan oil and freshly cut grass. I sighed wistfully at my memories and making sure no one was about, slipped through the hole in the chain link fence and out onto the pavement.

It felt very strange, almost like moving from one time zone to another I mused as I plodded along the beach road toward my old home. Then at the corner shop that sold colourful plastic buckets and spades to the dwindling holidaymakers, a local newspaper A board standing on the pavement caught my eye. It read: FEARS GROW FOR LOCAL MISSING TEENAGER!

My heart sank. So I went inside the shop to check as the local papers were on the counter next to the till. I had no money to buy a paper but I managed to glance at the front-page photo as I pretended to browse for something to buy. My heart sank even lower – it was her! – Becky and the very same photo as her phone. I rushed from the shop not knowing what to do next but wanting badly to get outside into the sunshine again.

As I walked further along the beach road I knew what I had to do, I’d known all along I guess, I had to hand the phone over to the police. This was going to be difficult to explain away, me having her phone with no fixed abode apart from an old nuclear bunker in an old holiday camp. No money and no job, hardly a stand up citizen and as day follows night I would be considered a number one suspect. So instinct kicked in and I decided to lie but I needn’t have worried.

“I need to hand this in officer.” I said handing the phone over the counter at the local police station to the female police officer. I knew the police station fairly well as I’d been hauled in once for drink driving. That was just after Kate had kicked me out and I still had the car.

“You can have the car.” She announced magnanimously as I packed up my belongings – which was basically anything she didn’t want or couldn’t use. “You might need to live in it!” She added with a hatred in her eyes I’d not seen in her before as if I was the one having the affair. I suppose my change of lifestyle was a sort of betrayal to her and one betrayal deserves another in return.

I held my breath after blurting out to the woman officer; “I think it might belong to that missing teenager.”

“Why?” asked the disinterested officer obviously bored with desk duty and wanting to chase crims in their latest fast pursuit motor. After a fleeting glance she put the phone down on the counter.

“Because it has her picture in it.” I answered getting slightly annoyed with her indifference.

“Might just be a friend’s. Where did you find it?” she asked as the phone rang from somewhere inside the building. “Excuse me.” she added walking off to answer the phone so I thought; “fuck this” and walked out of the station leaving the pink mobile phone on the counter as she cheerfully chatted with her caller.

Outside my flat I picked up the binbags that had my clothes and bedding in, plus some other odds and ends and headed back to my nuclear bunker for some tinned lunch still annoyed at her attitude, but it was no surprise to me. I’d reported stuff before to the police and came up against a wall of indifference or even hostility as if we the public know nothing and never will. So be it, let them figure it out if they can be bothered, after all what was that kid to me? Probably out with her mates getting drunk anyway… sod ’em all; I had my own problems to deal with.

CHAPTER FIVE

I couldn’t move my arms or legs, and as I gazed around me I realised to my horror that I was back on The Big Grey’s floor. To my right was that big plasma TV but it didn’t have the horse racing on it now but that missing girl’s face… Becky. Not the one in her phone though… she was moving this time… crying… trying to say something…. to me… she was pleading to me to do something. What could I do? I couldn’t move. I looked around me again and realised that there was no one else in the room just me and the TV so I tried to shift again to get up but couldn’t, it was like I was paralysed.

I could turn my head though so I turned my attention back to the TV. She was still there crying hard now with tears streaming down her cheeks and mouthing something I couldn’t hear as if the sound was turned down. Then to my dismay The Big Grey appeared with her on the screen and he had his trusty knife in his large tattooed right hand and was grinning back at me over his broad shoulder, enjoying this awful scene. He advanced menacingly toward her so she cowered back into the corner of the white room that had no windows. As Big Grey continued to advance on her brandishing the fearful knife that he was going to use on me, she pulled up her knees and covered her face with her hands trying to be as small as she could and block out the horror confronting her. She then screamed as he lunged at her and that was when my paralysis finally let me go…

My scream was still echoing around the bunker as I sat up in bed gasping for breath. It took a full two minutes to calm my thrashing heartbeat and get my breath back but there was nothing I could do about the sweat that now soaked my bedding and hair. I hadn’t had a dream like that since my drink/drugs days in my late teens soon after both my parents died. It was a real shocker but why now?

I’d given up all that after I overdosed one night. Lucky for me my housemate came home early, found me unconscious and called an ambulance. After that scare I went cold turkey for a few days and swore that I’d never go back but I guess another addiction can replace an old one, which was probably when the seed of gambling began to germinate. Sure I still had a tipple now and again but nothing that would cause this sort of nightmare.

I checked my old Woolworth’s battery alarm clock I’d salvaged and it told me it was nearly six am and today was my signing on day. Thankfully I’d get some money in a few days and maybe kick-start my gambling career now that I had my very own rent free safe-house, but that nightmare wouldn’t go away and I had real fears for that girl.

After washing and dressing ready for my appointment in the local Job Centre I took another look around my domain. Through the only other door at the back of the main room was a stairwell to an even lower level. Down here with all the dust and grime were all sorts of old machinery plus some more fuseboxes and control panels. I guess that some of the machines were generators for power but also air purification as there were huge compressed air tanks standing in a row along the far wall like ancient sentinels. It seemed amazing to me that someone had spent so much time and effort to build and install all this stuff that ultimately would never be used. Still it was my home now and my sanctuary from that hostile world above. Who needs a nuclear war? Living through this life was bad enough.

The signing went without a hitch as the twitchy security guard hovered nearby and I was soon back out in the sunshine strolling through the park deep in thought. This was the worst time for me – waiting three days for the money to come through to my building society (who had confiscated my cheque book) and I was anxious to get back in the saddle. I lived for gambling now like some people live for their families, work, writing, painting or whatever, but you need money to get started. It all starts from money and anyone thinking otherwise is deluding themselves. Even artists’ paint has a price.

I sat down on a parkbench to think. I thought about Becky and The Big Grey. I’d put money on The Big Grey having something to do with her disappearance but to what end? Did he even need a reason?

The Big Grey started out in “The Zoo” as the locals called it. Which was a council post war abomination of a six-story block of flats that was sited well away from the “nice people” of the town in Parkston Road. Behind it was some wasteland and either side were a few tatty sixties bungalows, one of which the The Big Grey acceded to as his empire grew. He still had an interest in The Zoo with loan sharking and ‘protection’ for the drug dealers, but mostly this was where he found his most willing recruits and probably where Becky and her parents lived. More than likely he was pimping out girls as soon as they came onto the market, boys too probably, a useful tool in the horseracing world. What better than to be able to supply the complete package to punters; gambling money, dope, booze with girls or boys thrown into the pot? A great day out that caters for all tastes and budgets.

Then a really stupid idea popped into my head out of nowhere; what if I tried to blackmail The Big Grey? Tell him I had Becky’s phone and tell him that I knew what was going on… tell him I’d seen his photo on her phone and threaten to give it to the police unless he coughed up some cash… I shuddered. The sun had hidden behind some clouds and I felt a sudden chill so I got up from the bench and hurried off back to my bunker for some lunch.

I took the tarmac path that followed the seawall and occasional sandy beach that boasted a clean beach blue flag back to my new home but just before I got to the unmade road that lead to the holiday camp, I was joined by a scruffy dog wagging its tail at me. I knew dogs well as both my mother and aunt had bred and shown pedigree dogs with some success back in the day. After my parent’s early demise my aunt and uncle had watched over me, although I needed little help as an only child I’d inherited the family home and was gainfully employed as a trainee accountant by then. That period in my life now seemed to be another world, someone else’s life… not mine at all.

”Hello missy.” I said crouching down to let her first sniff my hand then stroke her head with a scratch behind her ear that most dogs love. She was a Terrier cross or a Bitza as my cousin used to joke. “Bitza this and Bitza that!” He’d said before bursting out in a loud guffaw at his own joke. I briefly wondered how he was doing now. He’d saved me from a clinging girlfriend and a lifetime of nappies at a party thrown by my aunt and uncle where I’d gotten so drunk I passed out early. He’d felt guilty about moving in on her as I’d slept but after seeing their lives since I’ve been forever in his debt if only he knew it.

“My name’s Jake so what’s yours?” She had no collar and by the state of her appeared to be a stray as her matted fur was still covered in wet sand from the beach. She also looked agitated; running back and forth, barking now and then before running in circles as if she wanted me to follow her somewhere.

“Okay you win and I’ve got nowhere to go in a hurry… lead on McDuff.” Seeming to understand me she scampered off to the concrete steps that lead down to the beach. Following her I ambled along behind thinking of things to do once my dole money had been paid into my Building Society account – a bottle of Scotch beckoned. McDuff raced ahead barking loudly and leapt over the first wooden breakwater then stopped suddenly at the second barking at a dark long shape lying next to it at the high tide mark. Straight away I had a bad feeling in my gut about this and scanned the seawall for other passer-bys in case I needed help but there was no one else around and the beach was totally deserted. Quickening my pace I reached the still barking dog and to my horror I saw a slim white hand that protruded from what appeared to be a large zipper suit bag. A crab then appeared from the bag and started to dig itself into the soft sand nearby left by the receding tide

“Oh crap McDuff what have you led me into?” The dog had stopped barking and was watching me, then the bag in turn with an inquisitive expression as if I knew what was happening and what to do next. I knew what I needed to do and that was to vomit which I tried to do but my stomach was too empty.

”I need a phone.” I mumbled to myself and staggered back to the seawall steps with a spinning dizzy head to find someone with a mobile or a pay phone that worked but thanks to mobiles, pay phones were now an endangered species. I swore out loud trying to think where there might be a payphone and trying to purge that awful picture from my mind but it was stuck there like a jaunty tune you can’t get rid of.

On the seawall path I scoured the row of brightly painted beach huts for an off-season occupant still in residence but it was mid October and the holiday season was pretty much finished. Then I heard some hammering nearby and spotted a builders’ van parked on the grass behind the huts so I ran toward it. There thankfully was a middle-aged guy putting the finishing touches to a repair job on one of the huts, he turned in alarm as I ran up toward him with McDuff racing behind me barking loudly.

“Whats amatter?” He demanded to know alarmed at our sudden noisy appearance.

“Have you gotta phone?” I shouted back out of breath.

“Might ‘ave. Whats amatter?” He repeated.

“Please call the police. There’s a body on the beach.” I pleaded doubled up and gasping for breath.

“What! Where?”

“Just down there next to the breakwater…” I pointed. “I’ll show you… just bring your phone. Please.”

He looked me up and down weighing the risks, then deciding that he could take me and McDuff on no bother got his phone from the van and followed McDuff and me back onto the beach.

The first police car was there within minutes, quickly followed by all sorts of other vehicles including a forensics van with people in white suits. I gave a statement several times to several different ranking police officers saying that I was just walking my dog McDuff here and she found the body that now had a small forensics tent over it. I’d noticed that McDuff sat obediently at my feet all this time as if we’d been together for years – eventually the last officer I spoke to believed my story and wrote it out for me to sign.

By then I’d guessed that this was the body of the missing girl, Becky and also that it was probably the work of The Big Grey. I’d seen it in his eyes that day at his bungalow as he held his knife to my face that he was a raving psychopath and had absolutely no respect for life whatsoever.

“The tide will be back in soon so we have no time to waste.” I heard one senior officer say to his men, and as they scurried around an ambulance pulled up on the seawall pathway ready to take the body away and presumably back to her grieving parents after an autopsy – as if she hadn’t gone through enough I contemplated. It was then that I thought about mentioning the mobile phone to the police but thought better of it as there were now too many coincidences that linked me to her death… so I signed my statement giving my old address as residence and was on my way again with McDuff firmly by my side.

It appeared that even though her job was now completed she had chosen me to stay with and my opinion about the subject didn’t much count.

I didn’t mind though I could use some company and someone other than myself to talk to plus she would help take my mind off the awful events and images of the last few hours. Poor girl, what a way to end such a short life I mused as we both wearily climbed the concrete steps that led off the beach and back onto the now busy tarmac track where a small crowd had gathered to stand and gawk amongst the police vehicles.

Back at the bunker McDuff approved of her new home and after scoffing a whole tin of stewing steak with a bowl of water as a side dish, settled down to sleep on a piece of carpet I’d found in the office upstairs. I also lay on my bunk in the red glow of the nightlight thinking more about Becky who I now had this strange connection with and my mad plan to blackmail The Big Grey. It would be a lot more serious – and dangerous – if as I thought, this was now a case of murder. But someone needed to stand up to that big thug and make him pay… so why not me?

CHAPTER SIX

I was back in The Big Grey’s awful bungalow again, on the floor and unable to move my body. Also once again I was alone in the room with the silent TV that I stared at as the face of Becky appeared on it and tried to speak, maybe plead, to me once again, but still I could not hear her words. Behind her heart-rending face was that same white room that had no windows or furniture. In pure frustration Becky slammed her hands on the inside of the TV screen and was screaming her words now as she shook her head from side to side whilst tears ran down her pallid face. I tried to answer her pleas and say something that would calm her but the words just would not form in my throat.

Then as my own frustration and anger turned to rage The Big Grey appeared on the TV screen standing just behind Becky legs wide apart and arms crossed. He was wearing that same self-satisfied smug smile he’d used on me as he took my winnings from me all those years ago. His whole stance said; “So what are you gonna do about it then… loser.”

My rage exploded into an ear-splitting bellow that hung in the air as I sat bolt upright in my bunk. I gasped for breath and wiped the sweat from my face before noticing McDuff sitting on the floor next to my bunk with a concerned expression as if she’d just had the same dream.

“Okay up you come.” I muttered to her and with one leap she hopped up to join me wagging her tail in gratitude. I gave her a hug and we both settled down in the bunk hoping to get some untroubled sleep before dawn.

It was well past dawn before we stepped out into the welcome sunshine that seemed to burn away the bad thoughts and dreams of the previous day and night. McDuff scurried around the overgrown grounds of the holiday camp sniffing at anything strange to her before following me through the hole in the fence. We walked back along the seafront path to where the body once lay. There was little police activity now as the tide had been and gone twice since yesterday morning sweeping the beach clean of evidence. Just some police tape fluttering in the breeze and a few plastic cones with a police sign pleading for information about ‘an incident’.

There were though still a few locals standing nearby gossiping and no doubt speculating on what might had happened. As McDuff and I passed one group of pensioners I overheard one say; “It was that missing girl from Parkston Road… drugs and all sorts going on there…” Then another added: “Yes, I knew her family briefly… not surprised really… a rough lot.”

“Shame though…” Said another more sympathetically. “Pretty girl… Becky I think her name was…”

“Not like in our day…” Chipped in the fourth blue rinse with some venom. “we were all too busy working to take drugs back then. Not like kids of today, they expect everything to be given to them… including fame and fortune as soon as they leave school… that’s if they can be bothered to go in the first place!” They all nodded sombrely and moaned a collective sigh before returning their gazes back out to sea lost in their own thoughts and memories of past years.

So that was it confirmed; that had been Becky’s body we’d found as last night’s dream came back to haunt me once more. I stared at the spot where she had once lain cold, wet and alone and once again I could see her anxious face clearly as she tried to plead to me to help her. Also those tears streaming down her face whilst banging her flat hands then clenched fists on the inside of that awful TV screen as if she were trapped and drowning. As I stared, my sadness for the girl grew into anger then a sort of controlled slow burning rage. I knew now what I should do and how to do it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next two days I plotted and then slept like the dead – there were no more bad dreams. It was as if my resolve to go through with my risky plan had silenced my inner demons. Even McDuff appeared more relaxed and happy as she chased away the rats in the ballroom upstairs and explored the grounds outside. I’d expected her to run off back home at some stage now she had a full belly, but every evening just before I shut the heavy metal doors at night, she would turn up wagging her tail and barking at the food cupboard as a hint to me to feed her. I guessed that she was just as homeless as I was and had nowhere else to go.

Finally the day had come to put my plan into action as my dole money had arrived in my bank account that morning. My normal routine on this auspicious day would be to buy a bottle of Scotch with a racing paper at around seven in the morning from the local Post Office then return home to drink some Scotch as I hopefully picked a few winners. Sometimes it worked out and I’d go back home flush at the end of the day but more often, I’d go home to drown my sorrows. Today I’d be placing the largest bet ever in my life, but not in the betting shop.

So after withdrawing my money, a perky McDuff and I walked past the bookies and headed for the pawnshop where I’d tried and failed to sell Becky’s mobile phone. Now oddly enough I needed to purchase one.

“This one’s not bad.” Announced the surprised spotty shop assistant at my return. “It’s got yer basics… like yer camera, two point eight pixels, web and other stuff.”

“Where’s the buttons to dial with?” I asked as I handled it.

The kid sighed as if he were talking to a three year old.

“It’s got a touch screen dude.”

None the wiser I said; “Haven’t you got one with buttons?”

The kid wasn’t sure if I was serious now or just taking the piss. He ducked back down to the box of phones on the floor for another rummage and came back up with an ancient Nokia that had seen far better days, but it had buttons and it still worked as the kid dialled the number for a free automated credit update call and handed it to me so I could listen in.

“You have no credit on this phone at the present.” Broadcast the woman’s robotic voice.

“No Internet or camera… but it has got a torch light…” Added the kid pressing one of the buttons to complete his sales pitch.

“Great I’ll take it.” I handed over a tenner and the kid handed me the phone and charger that he explained needed to be done most nights all wrapped in a plastic bag that also had seen better days.

The dial said ‘Orange’ as it was activated so I went to the Post Office to buy some credit. The assistant in there also looked surprised at my change of order but I did buy the Whisky for Dutch courage.

Back at the bunker I sorted through my salvaged stuff until I found my old address book where I also found The Big Grey’s number. After another large slurp of whisky I dialled it and waited anxiously while holding my breath and the ancient mobile phone to my ear.

“What!” Was the brief reply in his gravelled voice that sent chills and flashbacks down my spine.

“I know what you did to that missing girl…” I blurted out as I gasped for breath.

“Who is this?” The Big Grey growled back.

“…and if you don’t hand over ten grand in cash I’ll go to the police with her phone that she dropped… it has your photo in it…”

There was a very long pause. So long I was tempted to ask if he was still there but resisted. Finally he came back on the line; “Where and when?” The Big Grey asked in a reasonable manner that surprised me so much I nearly dropped my phone. I’d expected all sorts of dire threats but not this sudden capitulation.

“Tonight at the beach by the lighthouse. Ten o’clock.” I told him trying desperately to stop my voice from quivering. “Make sure you come alone.” I added as an afterthought. They all say that in the movies.

“Oh I will.” The line went dead and I collapsed onto my bunk with McDuff staring at me in disbelief.

“Oh crap.” I said.

McDuff gave out a small whimper then retreated to her patch of carpet where she lay down with her chin on her forelegs and stared out to middle distance as if in deep thought. I picked up the Whisky bottle took a gulp then rushed to the sink to be sick with the sudden rush of overwhelming fear. After I recovered a little I went back to my bunk picked up the phone and called Crime Stoppers. Anonymously I gave them all the information I had, including handing in Becky’s phone to the local police station. They at least appeared to be more interested in what I told them than the officer I left the phone with. Then I too sat quietly staring at nothing in particular hoping against hope that The Big Grey would be arrested before ten tonight.

An hour later I was mentally climbing the dull grey walls as my home had now become my tomb; I badly needed something to keep my mind off my meeting. It was of course obvious and inevitable that McDuff and I found ourselves in the bookies.

“What’s that?” Asked Roy pointing to McDuff as she sniffed his shoes.

“My lucky mascot.” I told him as my head span from the whisky and the thought of the events I’d put in motion.

“Any good is it?” He asked as McDuff finished exploring and sniffing everyone and had returned to sit by my side with a scratch of her ear.

“I’ll let you know at the end of the day.” I said wishing it were already tomorrow.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Of course the days gambling was a disaster as I hadn’t prepared and had just gone with my gut. I had a few small victories that kept me going to the close of play but it was back to square one for McDuff and I financially. We had just enough for a few drinks in the pub across the road before I went on my suicide mission with The Big Grey. The buzz in the pub was all about Becky and who might be responsible for her death but no one dared mention any names. Apparently Becky had been murdered; strangled then dumped in the sea where she washed up onto the beach.

I gazed around the tatty pub that had changed hands so many times over the last few years. It was the last one still open for business in this part of town as people found it far cheaper to drink at home with supermarket booze. The competing pub opposite went bust then mysteriously burnt down one night. The customers here were a mixture of railway workers, ships crew and dockworkers with a few refugees from London and Poland thrown in. They all got on most days but a fistfight was never too far away; it was not a place to go on a first date. McDuff seemed to understand and stayed close as I sipped my beer watching the clock on the wall crawl around to just gone nine. “Time to go.” Said the first voice in my head.

“No forget it, stay and have another drink.” Said the second. I noticed that my hand was shaking as I picked up my pint glass.

“Gotta do this!” The first voice shouted.

“No you fucking haven’t!” Countered the second angrily.

“I fucking have too!” I said to both rather too loudly as several people stopped talking, turned and stared at me. I finished my beer quickly and rushed out the street door as the hubbub of the pub recommenced. Now I was the local nutter who talked to himself in public, great. Never mind I thought, I might be dead as well soon.

The meeting point I’d chosen was about half an hour’s walk along the seafront track where there was the first of two lighthouses. They weren’t the usual cone brick type but a metal cabin built on a tall cast iron framework. The first was sited on the beach and the second was about five hundred yards out to sea and the idea was in the 1800’s that the ships coming into harbour lined up these two lights that would lead them into the safe deepwater channel. Where I was going would be far from safe.

As I walked toward the looming lighthouse I had to force myself to take each step and blank out all my fears and other thoughts… “Just get tonight over with… Just get tonight over with…” I chanted to myself while McDuff trotted along beside me as if it were just another walk along the seafront. I’d picked this time and place as it would be night which would aid my escape (if I could) but there was also street lighting nearby if things went wrong, also there would still be people around from a disco pub and an amusement arcade sited close to the beach lighthouse. I was banking on The Big Grey not murdering me in public, but with him who could say and only time would tell.

The large towering lighthouse was silhouetted against the dark inhospitable sky as I could hear the reassuring laughter and voices from the road above the seafront tarmac track that was mixed in with a steady disco beat and the tinkling sound of the busy amusement arcade. Further away was the regular soft splash of the surf as it came ashore onto the beach before retreating back out to sea.

I walked down the steps to the sandy beach and strained my eyes trying to spot him my nemesis; and there he was standing just to one side of the four thick lighthouse stanchions that now looked like a War Of The Worlds monster in the gloom. Forcing myself on I heard McDuff let out a low growl that caught me off guard as never once since our time together have I heard or seen her be aggressive.

“Easy McDuff… let’s play nice.” I stammered.

“You the man?” The Big Grey asked in a calm flat voice as he stood stock still like the lighthouse while staring at me with those awful eyes. I noted that he carried a plastic bag and prayed that there wasn’t a gun in it.

“Yeah.” I blurted out scanning the beach for his ‘assistants’.

“Where’s my phone?” He wanted to know in that same disturbing flat tone.

“I’ll post it to you… after I get the money.”

“Good plan… Hey I know you don’t I?”

I stayed silent.

“Yeah you’re that Jake something… I remember you… lucky guy… you nearly lost your eye that day as well as all your money. Well, well, I never would have guessed you would have the balls to pull a stunt like this… man oh man…” Then to my surprise he began laughing … loudly. When he’d finished he threw the bag toward me which landed at my feet.

“Ten grand as agreed. Don’t lose it all at once Jakey baby. So when can I expect my phone?”

“Day after tomorrow… registered post.” I bluffed.

“Okay Jakey… Day after tomorrow, I’ll keep an eye out for the postman. Haha. Get it Jakey baby? You have a good night now you hear.” He added with more than a touch of menace. Then as he walked off into the gloom I heard him say; “Wow! Just met with the dead gambler!” Which was then followed by another roar of that same laughter I’d heard earlier; it chilled me to the bone.

With shaky hands I picked up the bag and peered inside and sure enough I could just make out the bundles of fifty-pound notes. Feeling the sweat trickle down my back and plop into my eyes from my forehead I realised that I badly needed to get off the exposed beach and escape into the night. I also knew that The Big Grey would leave someone here to tail me home and somehow I had to lose him. I suddenly felt rather sorry for whoever lived in my old flat now, as they would be in for a nasty surprise sometime later.

Walking quickly I headed further along the beach until it ran out against the concrete seawall, I then climbed up the steps and ran across the tarmac track into the rows of beach huts where I’d found the workman that awful morning. There I hid and collected my breath and thoughts before dodging in and out of the huts until the tarmac track did a sharp right toward the holiday camp road, but instead of following it to the hole in the fence, I ran into the marshy ground between the sea and the camp.

It was pitch black now and far from any street or house lights so I had to feel my way through the marshy bog and guess how far we had come down the coast. My feet and clothes were now soaking wet and the tide was flowing in fast as the thought suddenly occurred to me that we could both drown out here in the dark, but McDuff thought this was great fun as she splashed her way through the rising water just in front of me before taking a right and moving inland, so I followed her guessing that she probably knew a lot more about this inhospitable area than I did.

Thanking all the gambling Gods I could think of we finally came out of the salt marsh and out onto dry grassland where we were confronted by the camps rear chain link fence. McDuff unconcerned ran further along the fence until she found a dip in the ground where we could slide underneath the fence and enter the holiday camp grounds.

“Clever girl.” I muttered patting her head as I slid under the fence; she in turn gave my ground level face a large lick.

CHAPTER EIGHT

After I had a wash and change of clothes we both tucked into our respective food bowls with relish. Our appetites had returned with a vengeance as the tension of the day had lifted somewhat and the relief of been safely locked into our bunker for the night was palpable. I knew that I was a dead man walking whether I sent Becky’s phone to The Big Grey or not, he’d kill me just for the fun of it. But he’d wait the two days just to see if he could get the phone back, so I had that window of opportunity to get out of town if I was quick enough.

My plan was to disappear into London, which would be the best cover of all, mixed in with another nine million people, plus his power base did not extend that far. With his ten grand, I’d be able to relocate and start again but there was only one problem – McDuff. London was no place for pets but what to do with her? Well she did all right before me so she’d do okay after I’d gone I thought to myself but I’d miss her as we’d become good friends. She’d finished her meal of Irish stew and had settled down on her carpet to sleep. I could hardly think straight after the events of the day so I switched off the main lighting and lay on my bunk to dream of my new life in London, but that was not where I went.

CHAPTER NINE

Straight away I felt myself rise up out of my body that I noticed still lay peacefully on my bunk snoring softly in the red glow of the eerie nightlight. Upwards I went and as I put my hand out to stop myself from bumping into the ceiling – and to my utter surprise – it went straight through the thick concrete reinforced ceiling as the rest of me followed. I was floating around in the ballroom as I saw a scared rat scurry across the floor… so McDuff hadn’t chased them all away I mused as I headed for the next ceiling. Drifting through the ballroom ceiling I gazed at the old down-at-heel rafters briefly before exiting the roof and out into the starlit night.

The moon was just rising over the flat calm North Sea leaving a long bright reflection across it like a silver roadway in reverse. I then drifted silently over the town which was now deserted and I watched spellbound as the town’s single set of traffic lights changed from red, amber to green and then back again as they directed the nonexistent traffic.

I was now over the waste ground behind The Zoo and knew now where I was meant to go. Somewhere in my head something – that was now in charge of my thoughts and actions – had the picture of Becky and I was inextricably drawn to her and even though I knew that she was dead, there was unfinished business and only I could close it. As soon as I had picked up her phone that day I was locked into a series of events that had to be played out or my life could not continue as it should. There below me I saw The Big Grey’s nasty little sixties bungalow and I began to descend toward it.

CHAPTER TEN

I drifted through his roof as easily as I’d gone through mine and found myself in his main bedroom – and there he was fast asleep and laid out next to a young girl with long dark hair who couldn’t have been older than sixteen – her school uniform spread about over the grey shag pile carpet that I then floated through and into the bare white room that I’d seen in my previous dreams through his TV. Was this his basement? I wondered, but as I glanced around there were no doors or windows just like the inside of a giant box.

“So you’ve come at last.” Whispered a voice behind me. I turned to come face to face with Becky. Well a sort of Becky who had her form but not her mass, more like a dull glowing hologram. Then for the first time I gazed down at my own body and realised that I too appeared in that same way.

“Yes, sorry I’m late… It’s been hard to understand…” I said still wondering if this was actually just a dream. It was nothing like the previous recent dreams, or any other dream I’d experienced even when I was taking drugs. I could move around at will, think lucidly and respond to what was happening – but what was happening?

“I… we, McDuff… the dog… found your body… it was on the beach… the police have it now… sorry about your parents they must be so upset.” This was difficult to comprehend, as all my thoughts seemed to jump around at will. Everything was different here and little if anything made any sense. Someone had torn up the rulebook and dumped me… us into a different universe… so where do you begin?

“I know all that and my parents will recover, they are strong. That’s why I choose you to help.” Becky said softly with the hint of a smile.

“Me! Chose me, what do you mean?” Now I was even more bewildered.

“The dog you call McDuff… She let’s me share her mind.”

“You mean… she’s you!”

“Not entirely. We share… like roommates. We became friends before I was…”

“Murdered?”

Becky suddenly looked so sad I thought that she might cry. “Yes murdered.” She said softly as if trying to come to terms with her own demise.

“If I wasn’t standing here talking to you… a dead person,” I blurted out trying to lighten the strange atmosphere. “I’d find that hard to believe.” I thought my head might explode at any moment but I still did not wake from this other world I’d found myself in so I battled on. “So that’s why McDuff… or you… chose me, just because I happened to be there on the beach that morning?”

Becky gave me a sympathetic smile that said volumes. Even though she’d only been a know nothing teenager in her previous life that had got itself killed, now she had become an expert on this strange new twilight world we inhabited and I was just getting started.

“No, it was because you came here before, don’t you remember?” She asked tilting her head to one side inquisitively.

“But that was in a bad dream I had… I couldn’t move… I couldn’t even hear you.”

“That was because he had the power over you… the fear. It paralysed you.”

“And now that’s gone?”

“Yes. Tonight you stood up to him, challenged his power. That challenge broke the spell he had over you. He’s now scared of you.”

“Scared of me! But how can that be? I’m still terrified of him.”

“Not in this world. In this world you have all the power. He has no conception that this world could ever exist; he has no imagination to build a realm such as this. You have that power over him.”

“So what happens now?” I asked suddenly wanting to be back in my bunk, and safely locked up in my bunker.

“You help us gain justice.” Becky said with a serious expression that tried to mask her rage but failed.

“Us?”

“Yes. It’s not just me who demands justice.” And as she spoke several faces slid through the white walls to join us – a litany of murdered people – men, women and children The Big Grey had disposed with over the years.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Who are you people? Where have you come from?” I gasped at the faces surrounding me, all with rather uncomprehending, lost expressions as if they were sleepwalking.

“They can’t answer you Jake. They have been dead too long, but to move on they need your help.” Replied Becky who I noted glowed slightly less than when I first arrived but still a lot brighter than these poor folks.

“Move on?” I asked.

“Yes, we are stuck here in a sort of purgatory because our lives were taken from us suddenly and brutally by him. Only you as a mortal can help release us so we can be reborn again in another life in another time but we can’t because of him.”

“But I’ve tried everything I could.” I pleaded. “I’ve given your phone to the police I’ve called them…”

“It’s not court justice we need Jake. He has to die.”

I felt that shiver of fear shoot down my spine even if it was lying in my bunk miles away from here… wherever here was.

“What! You expect me to murder him! I can’t do that. I’d be had up for murder, put in prison, besides I’m not a killer. You must know that of all people!”

“You must Jake because I know for sure that he will find and kill you and your family if you don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was with you when you took his money Jake… remember.”

“Oh hell.” I moaned. “McDuff… you were inside her head… you led me home through the marsh…”

Becky smiled. “Yes and McDuff thanks you for the Irish stew… it was very tasty. But I can promise you that he will hunt you down and kill you, but you already know this don’t you Jake in your heart?” She was right of course, I was just deluding myself thinking that I could just run away to London and everything would be fine. He would hunt me down even if it took him a lifetime.

“Oh hell.” I said again as my thoughts seemed to cloud over. “What can I do… how the hell did I get mixed up in this?”

“Think on it Jake and remember we are all counting on you.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

I awoke back on my bunk with a start with McDuff sitting next to the bunk wearing that ‘I need to go outside now!’ look on her face. So I climbed out of my nice warm bunk got dressed and opened up the bunker so McDuff could go outside and do whatever she had to do. I dragged a chair from the ballroom outside and sat down in the sunshine to think on last nights dream. It had to be a dream but it had been so real. I’d never quite look at McDuff again in the same way that was for sure. Although it was weird how she had latched onto me on the beach, showing me Becky’s body then helping me out in the marsh like she did.

One thing could not be denied though, I couldn’t just leave town like I’d planned to do. Becky was right, I had to do something about The Big Grey first or I’d be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life, or worse still if he couldn’t find me, he’d go after Kate. Although there was a lot of bitterness there between us, she did not deserve that. But what to do? I could no more buy a gun and go shoot the man than make gold from lead. Then a memory of my conversation with Becky struck me; “Not in this world. In this world you have all the power. He has no conception that this world could ever exist; he has no imagination to build a realm such as this. You have that power over him.” And a vague plan began to form in my head.

For the rest of the day McDuff and I stayed close to our bunker relaxing in the sunshine with throw and fetch ball games, breaks for lunch and dinner until I finally locked up for the night and we retired to sleep.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

That night I once more departed from my snoring body to drift across the sky toward the bungalow. This time though The Big Grey was still awake. He was partying with several young girls – one of which was the one in bed with him the previous night. There were also two of his ‘assistants’ and some other younger boys who were probably his new recruits. The music was loud and drinks aplenty but no one knew that I also now attended the party as no one could see me. Next to the wall I noticed a clear bag filled with white powder on a glass coffee table top. Some of it had been spread into neat lines ready to be snorted.

The girl with the long dark hair kneeled at the table, picked up a nearby rolled twenty note and took a long snort at one of the lines before falling back on the floor almost unconscious. Many laughed as The Big Grey shouted; “She must be a bit tired after last night with me eh! lads? Never mind I’ll give her another good seeing to tonight! You betcha! Yay!”

If I did have a gun then, maybe I could have used it but I had other plans for him tonight. As he too came over for a snort of cocaine, I made myself as small as I possibly could into a tight ball and merged myself into the next line of cocaine. The Big Grey knelt down grabbing the twenty note from the girl’s fingers and snorted the next line of coke in one.

“Haaaaa! That’s fucking grand…. WOW!” He screamed as I shot through his blood stream and directly into his head. There I made my way his autonomic nervous system that governs the automatic activities of organs of the body; such as the heart’s pumping action, breathing and digestion.

“Parties over Big Grey! It’s The Dead Gambler and I’m pulling the plug!” I shouted as I stopped his heart and breathing with a massive dose of cocaine that swiftly burnt away the connecting synapses. Everyone laughed as he collapsed onto the floor clutching his chest and gasping for breath thinking that he was faking it – but when he didn’t get up again a girl screamed. By the time the emergency services had arrived The Big Grey was dead and all of the party goers had fled with whatever they could carry including the drugs and cash.

I reappeared outside just in time to watch Becky and the other victims of The Big Grey’s tyranny disappear into a low lying mist on the waste ground where I suspect many of their bodies ended up. Just before she too walked into that great unknown, Becky gave me a final smile and a wave goodbye.

THE END.

The Dead Gambler by Gerald Neal 2012.