James Kelman - The Burn

Okay Lecky. .?

Aye — fuck. Lecky grinned: Close, eh?

Aye.

Fucking close alright, muttered Ray. Fucking lucky.

Aye.

John winked at Lecky. We’re aye fucking lucky, int we?

Aye.

John was smoking. He exhaled and jerked his thumb at Ray: He wants to wrap it.

Fucking right I want to wrap it, said Ray.

How come? Lecky asked.

Cause it’s fucking wild.

Lecky glanced at John, and John handed him the fag. Lecky took a couple of drags on it.

Ray shook his head. Fucking wild, he said to John.

John took the fag back from Lecky before replying: Away hame then.

Ray brushed the tip of his nose with his right thumb, he sniffed, spat out the chewing gum he had in his mouth. John started rubbing his hands together and he hunched his shoulders up and down. He said to Lecky: What about you man ye into it?

Lecky shrugged.

Eh?

I dont know.

Ye want to do it?

I dont know man.

Eh?

Lecky shrugged.

It’s fucking wild, muttered Ray. He turned sideways and stared along the street; he turned back: Look John there’s always fucking the morrow know what I mean. . Why take risks.

I need the fucking dough, it’ll no be there the morrow.

Ray gazed at him.

Lecky? said John.

Lecky shrugged. I’m easy.

Fuck sake. .

Well what d’ye want me to say?

What do I want ye to say I want ye to say if you’ll fucking do it, that’s what I want ye to say!

Lecky looked at him.

Just fucking say it, if ye want to fucking do it, if ye dont fucking dont, dont fucking say it, ye just fucking do what ye want.

Lecky said nothing.

I mean ye make up your own fucking mind, it’s your own fucking opinion, that’s what fucking counts Lecky.

Lecky frowned.

Innit?

Lecky stared at him.

John shrugged. Just do what ye fucking want to do.

Lecky’s mouth was dry, he swallowed saliva. I’ll do it, he said.

Dont do it for me.

I’m no. .

Ray peeled another stick of chewing gum; he gestured with it at the other two but they didnt respond. When he took out his cigarettes Lecky glanced at him and he gave him one. Ray was looking at John.

The three of them waited another few minutes but nothing arrived and nothing departed; the entrance still gaped open. Ray led the way, Lecky continuing on to his position at the corner of the main road. When he reached it and looked back the other two were out of sight. From somewhere he could hear a vague whining sound like the engine of a bus revving and straining in too low a gear, then it had died into silence.

A clank. Coming from the shop doorway. Another clank then a crash. Really fucking loud. Lecky stepped back against the wall, squinting across at the windows of the nightshift building. The faces looking! But there werent any. Nobody was there at all. Thank fuck for that.

And now silence. The two of them were inside. Lecky edged out from the corner, seeing both ways into the distance. If he did see a squad car he would fucking whistle. No he wouldnt that would be fucking mad, fucking mental, he would just stay still, he would wait, he would wait till it had passed. No he wouldnt he would whistle, he would have to, unless he just ran down, he would have to run down, he could run down quick before they came, he would have to tell them, otherwise they wouldnt fucking know, they wouldnt know they were fucking there. He had smoked the whole of Ray’s fag. He had nothing in his pockets. Even a bit of chewing gum! He walked a couple of paces away along the main road, turned back. No sign of the moon anywhere. It was funny how it disappeared. Clouds were so fucking thin but they could hide the moon. He got to the corner and looked round and there was the man in dungarees, the big skinny guy with the specs, he had seen Lecky; he was smoking and had taken the cigarette from his mouth while staring over; now he was staring into the shop doorway, now back to Lecky. And Lecky stood still. If the guy didnt actually see him but was just staring in the general direction. He wasnt, he was watching; you could tell, just by the way he was standing, he was obviously fucking watching, the fag sticking out his mouth. Lecky stepped back behind the corner. A moment later he peered round again: the man in the dungarees continued to stare at him. What to do. He walked a few paces away from the street, along the main road. What was he to do? He stopped and turned. What. Back to the corner. Fuck. Right round it and along to the shop doorway, that fucking bastard still standing there staring, fucking staring bastard, skinny big specky-eyed bastard standing there fucking staring as if he was a fucking sentry on guard duty, fucking Buckingham fucking Palace. Lecky stopped opposite him and he stared across, the big skinny guy staring back. He wanted a smoke, a smoke would fucking be good. And then the man about-turned and went in through a door and Lecky moved smartly into the shop and the interior, pitch-dark till his eyes got accustomed and there was another room; stairs down to the basement: John! John! Lecky yelled: John! Fuck sake!

Silence.

John! Quick! Right now! Move!

Then a loud banging sound and foosteps rushing and Ray was in view below. That big bastard, cried Lecky.

What?

He saw us, he’s away to fucking do us. Quick!

What? Who ye fucking talking about?

Him, the big skinny bastard — the one that reversed out the lorry.

Ray was gazing up at him.

Honest man I’m no kidding ye, he’s away to fucking grass us, yous better fucking come. .

But Ray was off before he finished talking and he felt like going right after him, gubbing him one on the fucking mouth, ignorant bastard, he was a fucking ignorant bastard — a good bit aulder than Lecky but so what: Lecky was bigger and he was fucking harder, he knew he was fucking harder, and he would knock fuck out him. So fucking ignorant. Lecky stared down into the basement, so gloomy and dark. Where the fuck was John? He glanced back at the doorway, walked towards it, then stopped. What was he to do. Another room to the side, also in darkness. He stepped a pace and his heel crunched glass, a lot of it. Sounds from the basment but quite vague and far away. Bloody smell of dampness too, like fungus or something — it was as if the place hadnt been used for years. So dark. He stood still. The very last thing was to close his eyes, no even for a moment.

Was that a thump! He crouched. It was like a thump. He stood very still then dashed to the top of the basement stairs and shouted, John! John! Fuck sake come on!

Nothing. They didnt answer.

There were no sounds at all. He needed a pish. Fucking desperate. He went a step while unzipping his fly, started peeing, there was steam, a steady ssssss, it was calming; ssssss. If there werent any sounds from below it meant they had stopped and were in through to the other place, they had made the breakthrough. He stepped back. A dribble of urine down his leg. He walked a few paces, again crunching glass. He bent to the floor and picked out a long sliver which would act as a weapon, a knife — and there was that good feeling when he held it tight; it was knowing it was dangerous just by that alone, by the way you held it tight in your hand without any gloves to cover it, its ragged edges, how they would cut into you. And what was that was that a thump? it sounded like a big fucking thump! Lecky had crouched and now he stood perfectly still and there were footsteps. It was a polis standing in from the front doorway wearing one of these big fucking black coats; funny how they always fucking wore them. Lecky flashed the sliver of glass in his right hand. Dont come fucking near, he said, or I’ll cut your face.

The polis watched him. Then disappeared. Away for handers. Them and their fucking handers they always had fucking handers, you never knew how many there were going to be, dirty bastards.