Short Story: The Outpost

 The Outpost

I turned and looked into his cold and unforgiving eyes.

It was a wet winters morning, snow swirled in a cool grey mist. It left a white coat of coldness.

I was in a playground and the wind swept beneath my feet. The cold crept silently up my trouser leg and froze me.

“I’m, f.. f… freezing!” I managed to cry out. “I’m gonna catch b.. b… blinking pneumonia out h… h… here!”

Yes, it’s true. I was exaggerating but I mean, you have to, or they’d leave you stranded until you turned to a blinking icicle!

I turned and stared into his cold and unforgiving eyes.

He glared at me as if I was some alien life-form and muttered something under his breath what I didn’t quite catch.

I returned my token of appreciation; a punch in the chops and a bus ticket to the west coast.

I wondered why he didn’t like me? See it from my point of view. I am Gary Chatfield and I’m twelve years old. I’m thin, bony and sad. Mr Averill hates me, but who can blame him? I mean, I don’t like him either but the difference being I don’t go and broadcast it around the school. (Only because I don’t want detention.) Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good maths teacher, but the catch being, everyone hates him.

I hate the old immature grump basically because every time something goes wrong it’s “Gary Chatfield, see me after this period” or when Simon (Swotty) Heath gets a sum wrong, it’s “stop putting him off Gary!” I mean, it’s totally out of order.

I suppose that’s why I got rid of him. I did make a good cause of his body. I bunged it off to Jeremy Beadle. You know him don’t you, that guy off television with the show that if you have a sense of humour, you laugh at.

Well. Let’s start at the beginning. Twas a cold winters day and my second period was maths with Mr. Averill (the teacher who everyone apart from me sucks up to). I went in chewing some gum, and almost before I’d got through the door the voice echoed through my head (nearly but not quite deafening me).

“Master Chatfield, get rid of that gum.”

“Boss!” I replied instantly, doing the army salute. I spat the gum (which had lost the flavour anyway) into the manky metal rusty tin can what Mr. Averill called a bin. It was already bursting at the rim with pieces of waste paper scribbled on, so the gum basically jumped back out onto the cold tiled floor.

That’s right, believe it or not, the room contains no carpet at all. It would have been better even if it were a frayed carpet. But still, no carpet. The room was so bare because it contained no carpet whatsoever, and had no wallpaper either. They had just plain gravel based stone walls. Also it had only wooden desks that had been drawn all over in a B4 pencil. The alternative was that they had been inscribed with a Nazi sign. It was inscribed two feet deep.

That’s right, I’m exaggerating again, but you have to don’t you?

I had got off to a bad start that day, so I was not in the mood for any lip off Mr. Averill so when I got kicked out of class I could not bear it. I got the fire axe, and charged down the door like an enraged beast. I charged at Mr. Averill axe raised about my head! I brough it down into Mr. Averill’s head! THWOCK. The sound echoed through the hollow classroom, and Mr. Averill let out a high pitched scream. It pierced through the still air like a bullet from a gun.

The class stood rooted to the spot all staring at me.

I brought it down and it thundered through Mr. Averill’s neck. His head tumbled noisily to the floor, and rolled around until it came to a sudden stop next to my foot. I looked down at the axe blade smeared with blood. It began to drop to the floor, leaving a pool of blood surrounding my feet. I let the axe fall to the floor. I stood there struck dumb with fear. Fear of someone, anyone, telling the police. So I made sure they didn’t. CHOP. CHOP. CHOP.

I then went on a murder spree around the town stealing cars. Soon I was haring around town in a stolen blue Porsche with the whole squat reinforcement team hot in pursuit. I gave it more gas, although the wind stung my face as it came through my open window. I did not stop or attempt to shut my window. I didn’t stop for fear of being caught. I raced out of town and into the deserts of Fidoland. I was in a blinding, sparkly blue Porsche and it’s engine roared like it was running out of fuel.

The car kicked up an almighty cloud of dust that got into the police cars, making them come to sudden jerky stops. The police officers swarmed out of the patrol cars, choking and tears welling up their eyes.

I pulled out my mobile and dialled. Shortly after, the phone was picked up.

“Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?”

I did not reply. Eventually the person on the other end gave up hope and hung up. I packed up my mobile and slung it out of the car into the desert. You may be puzzled why? Well, here’s your answer. I could not have anybody tracing my call and then tracking down where I am.

“Right” I said to myself, “Davy boy’ home, I’ll pay him a little visit I think.”

I pulled out my Gold PP7 and swerved my car violently to face Bergon. I gave it some gas and headed toward the small tow of Pevilyn which was just north of Bergon. I aimed my revolver at the sign post and shot at it, making  a successful bullseye into the roundabout. I shot towards the small town of Pevilyn singing to myself.

I screeched onto the road and straight across onto the dirt track that reached out of sight. Up ahead I recognised the darkened silhouette of a police patrol car and about five police officers making a barricade.

“That ain’t gonna stop me!” I cried putting in full gas. The pedal touched the floor as I shot toward the barricade in my blue Porsche. The surroundings seemed to dissolve as I whizzed towards that barricade. The speedometer reached 156mph. I approached the officers and barricade. CRASH.

I burst through the barricade. I avoided the police car but smashed into the five officers, sending their bodies splatting upon the windscreen. Blood.

I smelt burning. My tyres, I realised! They’re giving in on me!

Suddenly my tyres left my car. They shot off, on fire. They were scorching and smoke fizzed off them. I saw sparks shooting from my wheels. I panicked. I grabbed my Gold PP7 and burst open the door. I then did a clever thing that saved my life; I flung my body out of the car. Just in time.

A few moments later the old rusty shell caught fire and capsized. I found myself flipping down a dark embankment. I at last came to rest in a dusty cavern. I realised that I was in a mine. Light filtered through a mine shaft that had been left open. I ran over. There I found the pulley itself. I was overjoyed! Although the pulley itself did not work, there was a rope that I may possibly climb.

I did climb, but only just as moments later the rope fell down and landed uncoiled in a dull heap. I needed a lift of some sort, so my attention was caught by a zip-line that led across a chasm. I grabbed the old bent rusty holder and yelled (for what it was worth):

“Pevilyn, here I come!”

I swung dangerously off the cliff and down to the grassy bank. It was anyone’s guess where I was. I noticed that the night was drawing in and a dark night settled onto the bank. I lay down and fell into a dreamless sleep.

When I awoke the next day, I went to the woods to hunt for food. I grabbed my Gold PP7 and shot at a poor defenceless deer. Blood spurted out. I picked up my dinner and skinned it with my ornamented swiss army knife. It had a green handle with a rune of a silver bullet and my initials inscribed into it. I folded it up and slipped it into my denims back pocket.

Then I dug my teeth into the fresh tender venison. It was very tender and very meaty. It had plenty of flavour. It was meatier than I had imagined and I licked my lips. I then discarded the carcass on the cliff edge. I ventured further into the misty dense copse. The mist surrounded me like towering walls. The silence was deadly. I darted in between the short stout broad trees. I was now deeper into the copse. There was a chill in the air and as the mist rose I could see down between the trees.

I finally got out of the forest and onto the road again. Ahead was an oasis or so it seemed, but as I approached it vanished into thin air.

“It must have been a mirage” I though as it thinned out so I could not even see it.

Then I saw a four wheel drive, off the road vehicle. It was a miracle. It was very rusty and didn’t look much like a car at all, but it was obvious what it was. I ran over to it and clambered into the old, torn drivers seat. The old rusty, manky drivers keys were still inserted into the slot. The dashboard was falling apart, and pieces of ash floated about the clogged up interior. It was misty with ash and the smell of petrol hung in the air like an unwanted germ. The smell was really horrendous and made me choke. My eyes were watering and I had to waft my hand to blast the smell away from my face.

I revved up the engine and it kicked into gear. The cars engine rocketed to life and it wasn’t long before I was speeding towards Pevilyn in the little banger. The gear stick was a bit cranky but after a couple of bootings it kicked into gear. I sped down the road in the small little banger. Soon I looked at my gas gauge and realised I was running out of fuel. The gauge showed virtually empty so I decided to discard the car. It was rubbish anyway, so I didn’t really care.

Whilst I was running through the contents of the boot I came across some items that might be helpful. They were; a packet of cigarettes, a jack, a box of matches, a petrol tank, a lighter, a machete, a rifle, a bazooka, some hand grenades, a jemmie, a bludgeon, a set of flame drops, a flamethrower and an RCP-90. I also found a canvas rucksack which I used to carry the items. I lit a cigarette and kicked it toward the old banger. WHOOSH. The car went up in flames. It was still in flames when the police came.

That’s right, they had tracked me down. Luckily (for me) they were out of ammunition. I rummaged through the rucksack and retrieved the rifle. I pulled it from the rucksack and aimed at the police.

“Back away!” I called. “Back away, or I will shoot.”

The police took cover behind the patrol cars. I began shooting wild rapid shots at the vehicles. The bullets dented the bonnets, and smashed the windscreens. Soon the police cars were all ablaze and all had dented bodywork and chipped paintwork. Behind me I saw the town of Pevilyn just vaguely on the horizon. I turned and looked at the police officers. I ran towards the police patrol cars and attacked the officers one by one.

I did one in by using the butt of my rifle as a ram rod. You know, a couple well aimed blows to the head and splat, they drop dead. I did another one in by doing an uncontrolled bicycle kick. That was fun. I did another one in by giving him a kiss; not just any kiss though, a Glaswegian kiss. In other words, a headbutt. I did in another with my machete, you know SLISH SLASH SLISH SLASH.

But then I was beating another one up, and I was grabbed by Sgt Slater. He pushed me to the floor then cuffed me. No matter what I did to scramble free, his hands held me in a vice like grip. His hands were ice cold against my skin. They were really cold for such high temperatures.

“You’re coming with me to the nick, sonny.”

“No I’m not mate!” I said coldly, “not over your dead body!”

A gunshot made me turn, and there was the chief constable.

“You wanna make something of it?” he said in a raspy voice.

“Yea’ah” I said, “It ain’t worth it.”

Then he struck me in the kneecap with his oiled lead pistol. Actually, he tried to hit me, but I beat him to it. I spun and flung Sgt Slater over me on top of the chief constable. I’m surprised the chief didn’t bounce back up, the fat Jabba! I then bust the handcuffs and made a run for my canvas rucksack.

I was beat to it by PC Ashton, but it doesn’t take long for a dan black in Karate to take out someone. I spun and did a flying backspin knocking him dazed, then I turned and did a scissor kick taking out his groin and then his face. He tumbled to the floor.

I grabbed the rucksack and charged onto the road to Pevilyn. Up ahead I saw a mob of police so I took out my RCP-90 and in one well aimed blast, blew the police unit to Atlanta and left a crater in the road.

I clambered into the crater and examined the crumbling rocky surface.

“Good shot” I said to myself, “for a beginner.”

I ran along through a gaping hole and whilst I ran, the hole seemed to grow. It was actually just me letting my imagination run away, but it turned out that it was actually deepening. I turned and tried to claw my way out but to no avail because there were no hand holds or feet holds. I grabbed the RCP-90 and blasted holes through the wall to leave a tunnel. Suddenly I heard crumbling and I had to grab the rucksack before it was buried beneath a heavy pile of waste rubbish. I was trapped.

I pulled out my lighter and lit a naked flame. I could make out that I was in a short space about 400ft underground, heading away from my home destination. I turned and burrowed diagonally upwards until I felt some metal. It was thin corrugated iron. I pulled out my petrol tank and poured it onto the corrugated iron. I threw a lit match into the petrol, and very quickly ran (well, rather slid) along the tunnel. Moments later an explosion echoed through it. Rusty metal collapsed through the tunnel, which meant a hole was now in the thin corrugated iron. I dug into the soil and eventually burst through the ground into a town.

People stared down at me as I dusted myself off, as if I was an alien just appeared.

“What are you staring at?” I said to a group of muddy street urchins huddled closely together on the edge of the pavement. “Believe it or not, I’m not… I mean, it’s not like… like… like you’ve never seen a human being burrow through the floor!” I said hesitating before continuing. “I am Gary… I mean… err… err… er… Pete Chapterel” I said nodding slowly. “Pete Chapterel” I repeated as if getting to know the name.

People started to lose interest and wandered back towards their houses. I turned to see a police officer staring at me. I realised it was Slater! He pulled out his oiled police slick gun and aimed it at my chest! I dived aside just as the bullet whipped up my hair. I gasped and rolled over in the sand. My breathing became more slow, then rapid, as Slater began shooting at me. Luckily he did not get a clear shot because I was rolling about, a real mad target! Eventually, he shot me and cuffed me and took me to the nick where I was put under lock and key.

I was later questioned.

Slater: “Where were you between the hours of 10:00 and 08:00?”

“As if you don’t know.”

Slater: “It’s for the benefit of the tape.”

I smirked. “Why should I tell you?”

Slater: “What is your name?”

“Mary Jane.”

Slater: “I am now asking the suspect where he was between the hours of 10:00 and 08:00.”

“I was at my house, with Tom Thumb.”

Slater: “I am now showing the suspect evidence piece AB7. What is this?” he questioned, showing my a mobile phone in a plastic carrier bag.

“Thought you’d know?”

Slater: “I am not getting anywhere with the suspect so I’m terminating the interview at…” he trailed off to look at his watch. “At 10:45. I will put him under lock and key until 09:00 hours tomorrow.”

And that was that.

I could not escape. All I could do is go with the police to the grey, dark cell. The place was shadowed and the bricks were rough and coarse. I had two options. I could either wait and get questioned, or I could make a jail break. I made my decision.

Soon I was haring down the highway toward Pevilyn. On the radio there was a broadcast about the jail break, it went something along these lines:

“There has been a jail break from Bergon Crown Jail. Could all units within the area please report to the base.”

I was in a patrol car racing between old derelict houses, so won’t that seem suspicious? One police car on its own? I was lucky because no one came along, so no one saw me.

I jumped out of the car onto the side ditch. It was a trench half filled with sloppy mud and rolls of spare turf. I rolled and sunk into the mud as if it were quicksand. I grabbed out onto thin air and sunk further in.

I was heaved out by a strong set of hands that were strangely familiar.

Slater.

“You little! I could of guessed you…” I trailed off when I saw his face. It was gentle and loving. Until I opened my canvas rucksack and made a bomb. Hand grenades. Matches. Lighters. Flame drops and a flamethrower to blow up the whole police patrol. I carried my own made bomb over to the police car.

“What are you going to do with that?” he demanded.

“Blast the police patrol to Las Vegas!” I replied.

“No you’re not.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because you’re nicked.”

“Why, who’s gonna nick me, eh?” I asked.

“Don’t trya be smart with me sonny!”

“I’m not trying anything. I am being smart!” I said dropping a flame drop to the floor next to him.

“Byeee!”

I jumped through the window onto the roof of the conservatory below. Well. Rather I fell onto the conservatory roof and went straight through and landed on top of a woman sleeping below!

She awoke.

“Excuse me!” I said rather awkwardly.

“Arghhhh” she screamed. And she screamed even more as the bomb went off.

I slipped off the bed and onto the rough floor. Then a man burst in and I made a dash for the door. It was jammed so I threw myself through the door! The wood splintered and glass shards spun through the air. I dropped to the floor in a heap. Blood.

I ran along, blood dripping from my arms and legs as I ran. I turned to see a man waving his arms wildly, chasing me. I turned, pulled out my bomb and hurled it at him. BOOM.

The bomb went off and the man exploded. Guts and body organs exploded at the roadside.

I slowed down to catch my breath when a pair of cold hands clutched mine.

“I am arresting you on suspicion of murder and thievery. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say may be given as evidence and used against you in the courts of law. Do you understand?”

His thin, bony elbow dug into my back.

I turned onto my back sadly.

“I understand.”

“CUT”

“BRILLIANT REHEARSAL BOYS, BRILLIANT REHEARSAL!”

I got to my feet. “And my wage” I said, “is how much?”

“None” he replied promptly.

I launched onto him grasping his throat in both hands. “How much!?” I said.

“Help me” he screamed, “Guards, help me!”

Two burly bouncers burst through the door and grabbed me dragging me out. “You’re out mate” they called.

I reached into my bag and pulled out my automatic. “How much?” I asked.