Joe Craig - Jimmy Coates - Killer

“Jimmy, go upstairs,” said his father, who walked in and sat down awkwardly.

“No, he can stay, Ian,” said the man in the suit.

“You haven’t—” started Jimmy’s mother, but the man cut her off.

“We’ve come for the boy.”

There was silence.

Jimmy replayed in his mind what the man had just said: “We’ve come for the boy.” What? Did that mean him, Jimmy Coates? Jimmy quickly went through the last few days in his head, or as much as he could manage on the spot, trying to remember if he had done anything wrong. But he was panicking and couldn’t even think of what he’d done that morning, let alone yesterday or the day before. Then Jimmy suddenly noticed another man who was standing in the doorway. He was dressed the same way as the first man, but was not quite as tall or as tanned.

Jimmy’s father turned from one man to the other.

“You’re early,” he said, “We thought—”

“I know,” the man interrupted again. “This is the new arrangement. We’ve come to get him.” The man looked straight ahead, not round at Jimmy and not at either of his parents. He was waiting for something. Finally Jimmy’s mother spoke–and it wasn’t what the man was expecting.

“Run, Jimmy,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. She clutched at her throat and then shouted, “JIMMY RUN!”

For a tiny moment Jimmy didn’t move. Everyone’s face was turned towards him. Jimmy looked at his father. He looked sad, but not scared like Jimmy’s mother. The terror in her voice made its way into Jimmy’s belly and connected with the confusion in his head. Then he was finally able to unfreeze his legs and throw himself towards the door.

The man standing there wasn’t expecting such a burst of speed, and when Jimmy’s full weight hit him he was winded. Jimmy pulled open the front door. But what if there were other men in suits waiting for him outside? Leaving the front door open, Jimmy bolted to the stairs instead, sprinting up two at a time. He reached the top out of breath, and dashed into his bedroom.

“Come to gloat?” Georgie grumbled from the computer, but Jimmy didn’t answer. “Who was at the door?” Jimmy could hardly hear her for all the blood rushing through his head. Then the regular beat of a big man pounding up the stairs hit him in the heart.

“Call the police!” Jimmy panted, diving under the bed.

“What?” gasped Georgie. Jimmy heard the door open and saw two sets of shiny black shoes pointing straight at him, like four vultures.

“Hey, who are you?” Georgie yelled. “Get out!”

“Take her downstairs,” ordered one of the men.

“Police! Help!” Georgie’s screams faded as she was carried away.

Then a face appeared next to Jimmy’s, leering down under the bed. It was the taller of the two men. His huge hand grabbed Jimmy’s shoulder and dragged him out. Jimmy stood rubbing his neck as the shorter man returned. There was no noise from downstairs. Why was everyone so quiet?

“Why do you want me?” he asked.

“Why are you running?” countered the taller man immediately.

“I don’t know who you are,” said Jimmy.

“You don’t know who you are.”

At first, Jimmy thought it was a slip of the tongue. Then he wasn’t so sure.

“I’m Jimmy Coates. My name is Jimmy Coates and I’m just a kid.”

“OK, Jimmy, I need you to come with us. You can trust me.”

There is something very untrustworthy about a man who says “Trust me”. This man’s eyes were the colour of steel, and from the way his shirt pulled across his chest, it looked like he was built of the stuff too. Jimmy stared back as hard as he could and tried to look tough, but this wasn’t a game. Jimmy’s throat tightened and something behind his stomach stopped him breathing properly. It looked like he had no choice but to go with these men.

Maybe Jimmy hesitated just a little too long. The taller man dipped his hand into his jacket and Jimmy caught a glimpse of a pale leather holster. When the man’s hand emerged, it was holding a gun.

“I just need you to come with us,” he stated coldly, but Jimmy couldn’t take his eyes off the gun. It was the first he had ever seen and it was pointed straight at him.

All of a sudden, utter fear behind his stomach turned into something else. Jimmy felt a surge of energy, as if some powerful piece of machinery had been turned on. It quickly spread through his whole body. It was something he had never felt before and he didn’t know whether he liked it. In another moment, it bolted up the right side of Jimmy’s neck and wrapped itself around his head. At that moment he stopped thinking. His mind cleared and the feeling inside started acting for him. He dipped his body to one side and sprang forward. He was out of the line of fire now, and before the man could adjust, Jimmy put one hand on the gun and the other on the man’s wrist. With a firm twist, he pushed the barrel up towards the ceiling and leant down on the man’s hand. There was a loud crack. The gun dropped to the floor and the man clasped his trigger finger in pain.

Jimmy had moved so fast that the shorter man hadn’t had time to react, but now he leapt forward. Jimmy darted away from his desperate grasp, then kicked the gun under the bed. He looked towards the door, but both men stood in his way; even though one was hurt, he was still ready to act. His half-smile had turned into a grimace.

Jimmy was acting automatically–by instinct, not by thought. It was like watching someone in a movie. He saw the men move and could predict exactly where they were going to go by the way their weight shifted across the floorboards. As they lumbered towards him, Jimmy took a light step to the side and leapt backwards.

He coiled his body into a ball and shut his eyes tight. The two men were stunned as Jimmy smashed through the window. Glass shattered everywhere and Jimmy felt it falling with him. The air was suddenly cold. He screwed his eyes shut harder and waited to hit the ground.

As he fell like a lump of stone, Jimmy’s brain crept back on. He had enough time for one thought to go through his head–why had he jumped out of the window? There was a paved drive below, and now he was probably going to die, or at least break every bone in his body.

Then he hit the concrete.

JIMMY DIDN’T MOVE. He had landed on his shoulder and his eyes were still shut. Glass rained around and on top of him. He could hear it falling on the roof of the car that was asleep next to him, and he felt some hitting the side of his face. He lay there, waiting for the pain. Why hadn’t he blacked out? Then he thought maybe he had blacked out. Maybe he was in hospital and the whole misunderstanding about the men coming to get him had been cleared up.

But Jimmy knew that wasn’t true. He brushed fragments of glass away from his eyes and opened them. He could see the light of a street lamp winking at him. He didn’t understand why there was no pain at all. He wiggled different parts of his body. Everything moved just as he wanted.

He rolled his neck as one last test to make sure he wasn’t actually dead. He looked up to the sky, then saw his house and the broken window. Dad’s going to kill me, he thought. For a second, he thought he saw Mr Higgins’ bony nose peeking through next door’s curtains, but Jimmy’s eyes were still bleary.

Then he picked out two faces looking down at him out of the glass-lined hole. Those two really will kill me, he thought. But he didn’t get a chance to panic. That strange feeling crept up on him again, like a tropical wave filling his insides. It moved faster this time as it swooped up the side of his head. Jimmy tried to keep his mind switched on; he didn’t like surrendering control of his body to whatever this was. It may have saved his life, but next time it tried anything as stupid as throwing him out of a window, the result might not be the same.