Kaptain's Blog

The writings and musings of The Kaptain

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Through The Godless Hours (50)

…outside the classroom… a hot summer’s afternoon… all quiet in the village… it seemed as though he was hovering above the ground, looking down… then Anath saw himself lying on the earth, next to his friend… the poor kid who was so often subjected to ridicule… afflicted from birth… hare lip, cleft palate… why was God so cruel..? he had often asked the question… Anath had purposely befriended the boy… whose name, for now, he could scarcely remember… had wanted to show how sorry he was that the God he was instructed to love had somehow failed this fellow soul… had laid suffering at his door… God the merciful..? a God who had even, it seemed, prevented the doctors from coming to the boy’s aid… side by side on the grass… outcasts, the pair… for different reasons… but bonded, as a result… perhaps that was the lesson… who knew..? and now he saw himself smile as they both sat up… and the other Anath – the one down there – began drawing a shape on the ground with a stick… had assumed the role of teacher… was instructing the other kid in something he’d been able to visualise… something he’d managed to figure out for himself, ahead of his time… long before the teacher had read it to them from a book… at first it was unclear what he was sketching in the dust… but then Anath saw that his doppelganger had drawn a right-angled triangle… was now pointing to its hypotenuse… Pythagoras… ai ya..!

There was a moment’s silence before a scream pierced the steamy air. The uniformed man was now standing stock-still, his gun lowered at his side while his wife rushed over to the fallen boy, stumbling in her haste to reach him. “You bastard!” she screeched, turning to look back at the Captain, finally unable to conceal her contempt for the man she married, the man she had witnessed slowly morph into a monster. “I fucking hate you! Stay the fuck away from me, you bastard!” For the first time in a very long time, Captain Farid felt shaken – sensed that his destiny was not entirely within his own control. Kneeling down next to Anath, the woman then carefully slid her handbag under his head, cushioning him from the damp and the dirt. The smell of his blood forced her to gag, reigniting her hysteria. “What have you done? Look at all this blood! Will somebody help?” she screeched. “Please! For God’s sake, help!”

With all eyes levelled at Anath and the woman, Detective Adi was able to slowly melt from the scene. Moving in the direction of his car – and his escape – his pace began to pick up, but only to the extent that his battered body would allow. By now, he was beginning to regret taking on the Captain in such a risky manner. He cursed his arrogance, the impetuousness that had resulted in the hellish episode that ended just moments before. A terrifying clash that might easily have taken his life. Adi realised he still had much to learn if he was going to survive the further tests that were likely to come his way, while he built a career with the force. His ill-judged attempt to publicly humiliate the Captain had left him covered in cuts and bruises. He could barely feel any sensation in one of his legs, while blood was seeping from somewhere on his scalp. Detective Adi Dharsta, the maverick who had luck on his side, had survived – but only just. He shivered as he recalled the whir of the bullet that had fizzed past his ear. But in the heat of the moment he spared not a thought for the young man who had taken the hit: who was now lying prone on the ground outside the restaurant, most likely bleeding to death. Grappling with the old Toyota’s door handle, Adi managed to wrench it open before slumping inside. A warm sensation spread in his crotch as he then began wetting himself. Unable to stop the embarrassing release, the once cocky Detective for whom nothing ever went awry barely resisted a strong urge to cry.

His hands were shaking as he then tried to insert the car key into the ignition. Shit! Adi had dropped the fob down by his feet and was now forced to reach down with a hand to scramble about on the floor. The side of his head pressed against the steering wheel, producing a blast from the horn that made him jump. Fuck! The last thing he needed right now was attention. His urine was now seeping into his socks, its stench bringing another reminder of his lack of control. His shame. Finally locating the keys while swallowing down a sob, he pulled himself upright again before hurriedly pushing one, successfully this time, into the ignition slot. The engine burst into life as he turned it, while flicking a glance through the rain-spattered window in the direction of Sate Blora, where people were still flocking to the scene in fascination.

To his horror, Adi suddenly spotted Captain Farid approaching, supported now by two men, one either side. Adi recognised them from the Captain’s table, back inside the restaurant. One was presumably his father, the other a younger brother. He swallowed nervously as they neared the red Toyota before, to his relief, marching past and out of sight, around a corner. Detective Adi let out an involuntary sigh that was almost a whimper. Still trembling, he began trying to concentrate on what he needed to do in order to move the car. Before long, he was gratefully pulling away from the kerb and disappearing slowly down the quiet Sunday afternoon street.

Inside another car – a green, army-issue Timor – Captain Farid was meanwhile cursing incoherently, trading random insults with his brother – cocky little fucker – the irritating success story, who had always been Daddy’s favourite. The General took the wheel, instructing his elder son to shut the fuck up as he pulled away with a screech and drove around the corner without looking, on to the main road. Wondering what he would be able to do to rescue the situation, his mind whirled as he contemplated the awful embarrassment that would befall the family if word of his son’s misdemeanours were spread. And what had that asshole of an intruder meant by the other things he said, back there in the restaurant? …What you discuss with the Latinos… The whore who knew your secret… What happened to your driver… Your driver… “Where’s your driver, anyway?” the General abruptly snapped, in anger. “Of all the times to go missing, when we need him most…” “Worm food,” Captain Farid calmly declared, his voice conveyed on an eerie tone. Blood was still oozing from his lower lip and his eyes were fixed rigidly ahead, unfocusing. “What?” quizzed his younger brother. “I said he’s fucking worm food, you cunt! Deceased, geddit? He’s dead. Mati. Fucked! Understand?” “You’re an animal! A fucking animal!” his brother concluded, helplessly. But his assertion served only to produce a strange giggle from the Captain, followed by the sucking in of air through the drool that continued to seep and gurgle from the corners of his mouth. More a feral act, than any form of human behaviour. Up front, the General began slowly shaking his head, in the terrible realisation of his son’s emerging insanity, his eyes now filling with tears at the horror, the shock of it all.

But he, like the Captain and the Detective too, spared not a moment’s thought for the innocent bystander who had taken the slug. There was no sympathy in either vehicle, as they sped off in different directions, for the young man who now lay slumped on the ground outside the restaurant. A boy who at this very moment was bleeding to death, his unconscious will shutting down the parts of his system that for the present he least required, concentrating instead on the fight that was to come, the fight to survive.

And on the wall outside Sate Blora the telephone began ringing again, unheard.

posted by Kirk at 3:16 am  

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