Blood Donors (20 page)

Like I say, Muskrat don’t live in the same universe as the rest of us.

Sis is concentratin’ on her phone. She had a message.

Come on
she look up at us,
none of us safe here. Let’s get you fixed up. Then we got to all hook up together. That a message from Big Auntie. She callin’ a meetin’. Down in the Community Room. Says she’s been assemblin’ defences
.

My eyes pop out my head.
You mean she finally believe?

Sis smile.
It Big Auntie. She never
dis
believe us. She like me. She gotta make certain she sure of things. Well, she is sure of things now. It goin’ to be a long and bloody night
.

I’m on my phone tellin’ Mum Mustaph had a little accident. She know all about first aid, from back in the day, she work at the hospital. She makin’ her way down.

So what you doin creepin’ round my place anyway?
says Mus.

What
you
doin’ sleepin’ in your bed, when the whole Finger under attack? I say
.

Hard work, tryin’ to prise my folks away from the TV. I was enjoyin
’
a power nap, yeah?

Yeah?

Sis says
Your leg is lookin’ proper nasty. Marsh, what your mum say? Think she can do somethin’ with these wounds?

Yeah, but this lookin’ bad. We ought to call a ambulance, get him to the hospital
.

Ain’t goin’ to no hospital
say Mus.
Full of sick people
.

Bad plan anyway
adds Sis.
We go off to the hospital we ain’t goin’ to be doin’ no good here. We needed at the meetin’. We better take a look at your wounds ourselves
.

Mustaph feeds me a worried glance. I get it, can’t help but laugh.
We goin’ to have to get your trousers off to get at the wound, boy
.

Sis giggle.
Don’t worry, Musky. I seen it all before
.

First up
I say,
we got to remove the nails in order to get your trousers off
. I grab hold of the nail stickin’ outta Mustaph’s thigh. It is well stuck.
Got any pliers?

Under normal circumstances, that would be a stupid question, but this is Mustaph’s room we’re talkin’ about.

Sis fetch me the pliers and I use ’em to get a good solid grip. I say
This is goin’ to really hurt
.

Thanks very—

I yank.

Mustaph scream like he bein’ murdered.

Easy, boy
say Sis. She got her arms roun’ his shoulder, holdin’ him firm.

One down
I say,
one to go
.

Whoa, hold up, hold up
say Mus, his eyes widenin’ in panic.
This don’t feel right, don’t feel right at all
. He looks confused.
I wet myself
.

He got a wet patch spreadin’ across his trouser leg, sure enough.

Damn
say Sis.
He ain’t wet himself
. She puts her fingers to his leg. She turns her palm. She got red prints.

Damn
I also say.

What goin’ on? What happenin’, man?

I’m sorry, Mus
I say,
I just unplugged the wound
.

What!

Quick
say Sis,
get his trousers off
.

What?

Pullin’ Mustaph’s trousers down is easy ’cos he so skinny and they so baggy. Also easy to avoid bashin’ the nail still stickin’ out the bottom of his foot. But his thigh is a bloody mess. The nail hole ain’t too big, but blood is pourin’ out like somebody just switched on a tap.

We need some towels
I say.
We makin’ a mess
.

A shadow looms over me.
You’re making a mess all right
.

We all look up.
Mum
.

Mustaph force a smile and say
Am I goin’ to die?

No
she say.
Like my son said, you’re just makin’ a mess on your floor. Sis!
She clap her hands, focus Sis’s attention.
Clean towels from the bathroom. Quick as you can
.

Mum shoot me a look, let me know she is in control. She bend down close to Mustaph, open up the first-aid kit she brought with her.

If I ain’t dyin’
says Mustaph,
then how come I’m bleedin’ so much?

Don’t be such a baby
she say.
Your friend hit you in a vein is why. You should be glad the nail didn’t pierce an artery
.

His eyes get wider still.
How do you know it’s not an artery?

Mustapha, if she’d hit an artery, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d be unconscious
.

While she’s talkin’, she’s cleanin’ the wound and she is right, it ain’t hardly nothin’. I reckon Mustapha is a wuss.

Mum applies a dressin’, presses down against the wound, and the blood is beginnin’ to slow down.

This be the point where you cheer up the patient with a joke, so I say
Hey, boy, at least the Megabugs ain’t goin’ to try and get you now. You lost so much blood, you ain’t got nothin’ left to quench a gnat’s thirst
.

Sis, Mustaph and Mum all stare at me in a highly unamused fashion.

What about the nail stickin’ out of my foot?
ask Musk.

Mum peers close, puts her fingers on it.
It isn’t anything. It is much the same as if you stepped on a drawing pin
.

Oh, that’s good—

What’s that over there?
Mum point at the wall.

Mustaph looks.

She yanks.

Mustaph scream like he bein’ murdered. Again.

You children
say Mum,
you like to pretend you are so tough. Where is your real bravery?

My real bravery just bled all over the carpet
.

We all smile.

Is he goin’ to need a hospital?
asks Sis.

I look out the window. Last of the light is fadin’.

Mum shake her head.
We’ve got an emergency meeting just starting. Can you hobble?

Oh yeah
say Mus.
I been practisin’ all my life
.

We can hear people of The Finger filin’ past Mustaph’s flat, makin’ their way down to the meetin’, or draggin’ wheelie bags packed with essentials, makin’ their escape.

We got to go
I say to Mum.

Time runnin’ out. She dash up to get Connor and Sabre. Me and Sis play nursemaid to our feeble friend.

Five minutes later, my family steppin’ out, together, make our way to the big meetin’. I ain’t never seen the stairwell so busy with life. Mums carryin’ babes in their arms, kids wieldin’ cricket bats and fryin’ pans, gangs of men with knives, hammers, guns. Bugs doin’ well to keep a low profile, they ain’t goin’ to fare so well in a straight-up clash with mobs from The Finger.

As we make our way down among the mix of battlers and evacuees I see a couple of Megas been caught out under the harsh light of the stairwell – what left of them. I begin to feel hope in my heart.

Me and Mum ain’t sayin’ much. Feels like we said so much already, without the need for words. She keepin’ Connor under her wing, and I got Sabretooth on a improvised piece of string. We all goin’ to stick together now.

Mus is on crutches that Mum magicked up for him when she went for my bro and my dog. He is in better spirits.

Everybody all a buzz.

Community Room on the first floor, little more than a bare hall, furnished with wonky wooden chairs and decorated by murals of kids’ games, of a artistic quality like they been painted by the kids themselves. We grab ourselves some seats. Hall contain about one hundred citizens and lined with beefy men look like they work as bouncers or bailiffs. Look like they squash giant bugs in their spare time, for fun. So, you know, place has quite a pleasant atmosphere. First time in a while people feel safe, get me?

Hush fall across the room, people turn their heads, stare at a figure marchin’ down the aisle like there’s a serious beef need settlin’, carryin’ – I kid you not – a chainsaw. Chainsaw is switched on, blade runnin’ round like a rabid dog, motor growlin’ with teeth-shakin’ menace. Teeth of the saw already clotted with bits of bug leg, schnozzles and squashed cherry eyes. This is Big Auntie, her steel-capped boots thuddin’ with authority as she make her way to the front.

Never mind the nail gun, now I got serious chainsaw envy.

Behind her is Compo, tryin’ to look self-important, but comin’ across as a fat-belly weasel. Troop of six minders marchin’ either side of them, make Compo seem wimpier still.

They get to the front. Big Auntie turn to face us, switch off the chainsaw to speak. Applause breaks out.

Good evenin’ to you all
Big Auntie begin.
I shall keep this short. Most of us have now seen first-hand the menace we facin’ here in The Finger. Apologies owed to the youth among us who worked so hard to put the word out, and were doubted. That doubt – disbelief – still exists with authorities on the outside, as Officer Cotton will attest
.

Here she give a nod towards Compo, who open his mouth to begin his own speech, but she talk over him.
We got a team, even as I speak, workin’ on tryin’ to persuade the council and the police to come in and give us the assistance, the protection we need. But lackin’ that, we got to protect ourselves
.

Murmur of approval passes through the crowd. Hands lift high, bearin’ weapons of ’stonishin’ range and imagination. Big Auntie looks us over approvingly.

She holds up her hand, callin’ for silence once more.
Lot of families already upped and left. That is good. Sensible thing to do, especially those with littl
’
uns. If you got any place to go:
please!
Go! Quick as you can, no messin’
.

But some of us ain’t got nowhere to go to. Some of us ain’t got no wherewithal to go where we want to go. Some of us invalid, bed-bound, and the council ain’t left us with no lift with which to move ourselves. Some of us can’t go stay with our family, our cousins, on account of our cousins bein’ on the eleventh floor, our uncles bein’ on the eight floor, our in-laws bein’ three flats over to our left. The Finger the only place we got
.

But we are all here for each other. Those of us that ain’t in Fightin’ Patrols, lock yourselves in, in large groups. Be strong together. Lock your windows. Block your letter boxes. Keep your eyes peeled and make sure there’s always at least one of you wide awake! Remember: safety in numbers. Ain’t nobody else here for us, so our families, our friends, our neighbours are all we have. We just got to make it through the night
.

Meantime, we keep tryin’ to bring in the outside help
. Here she lower her voice, show she got somethin’ heavy to lay on us.
But let me show you, even now, what we up against
.

She thrust out her hand, holdin’ out her phone. Swing it wide so whole audience get to see, like this the mos’ dramatic weapon in the world.
See this?
she declare.
This is the only protection we been given … Council Emergency 24-Hour Phoneline. Officer Cotton?
She turn to Compo, give him his moment of importance. He happily takes the phone from her. She say
I dialled that 24-hour number. Tell us, Officer, what response do you hear?

Compo holds the phone to his ear, listens close. He says
Lines are closed after 5.00 p.m.!

Chorus of boos fills the room. First time in his life Compo heard boos that ain’t aimed at him. Big smile slide across his chops.

Big Auntie turns to face him.
Officer Cotton, what’ve you got to say about that? Tell me what your own colleagues got to offer us
.

He coughs, try and bring himself together.
I am sad to report
he says,
that my superior officers at the police station were not prepared to accept the evidence that I personally captured and took to the station. Indeed, they actually laughed when I showed them an example of a giant bug proboscis
.

Shame!
somebody call out.

Big Auntie has served him a perfect ball. I ain’t sure whether she kind-hearted or cruel-minded. All Comp gotta do is hit his home run.

So basically
he conclude,
it’s just us, on our own. Er, but we’re in it together. You, me and the youth of The Finger, united against our common enemy!

Cheers all round. Man is beamin’ like this the best day of his life.

Big Auntie steps forward again. She take a deep breath and her voice booms through the room.
We got strength in numbers, solidarity. Tell me the truth now, if you was to place bets on who still be runnin’ around by mornin’ – us or the giant bugs – who would you put your money on?

The Fingerrr!
someone yells out.

Several others echo the sentiment.
The Fingerrr!

Big Auntie joins the enthusiastic answer by revvin’ up the chainsaw. Its roar fills the room.
The Finger has stood up against worse!

Big Auntie ain’t called Big Auntie for nothin’.

We whoop and we cheer. This feel sweet. This is everythin’ I been waitin’ for.

So this is the plan
. She feed us her mos’ serious face.
We have set up a roamin’ posse of Mega-splatters. We got twenty of ’em, primed to split into assault groups of five. And we got guard groups to look out for those who can’t defend themselves. Group leaders tell everyone their mobile numbers. We all hooked up. And we are tooled up
.

Sis turn to me and say
True. We got
’nuff
weapons to fill an entire Crimewatch series. Bugs ain’t got no chance. We be the Neighbourhood Watch from Hell
.

Ten minutes later, we all gathered in our livin’ room – me, Mum, Con, Sis, and Mustaph, nice ’n’ cosy on a pile of cushions, Mus’s bad leg levered up onto a dinin’ chair. I ain’t hardly seen him look happier.

Big Auntie drop in on us, give us one final check before lock-down. Connor shuffle nervously by Mum’s side. Mum strokin’ his head. Big Auntie gesture towards me with her chainsaw.
Young man, you a lucky boy, ’cos you got your big brother Marshall O’Connor lookin’ out for you. Ain’t no one tougher, or braver
.