Ирвин Уэлш - Dead Men's Trousers

— Oh yes you do, Syme sings, Christmas-panto style, drawing open the velvet curtain behind them. It reveals, hung upside down, a bound and gagged Spud Murphy.

Sick Boy gasps and takes a step back.

– Now it’s up to you two. Syme’s tongue darts across thin, bloodless lips. — Youse can walk oot ay here. But if yis do it’s endy story for this boy.

Euan’s head jerks back. — I haven’t got a clue who that is.

Then Victor Syme waves the embossed Colleagues business card, the one he removed from Spud’s pocket, forcing Simon Williamson to admit, in a pappy voice, — I do.

— But you’ll get to know him, Doc, Victor Syme’s lofty tone pledges to Euan, as his pasty, noxious smirk freezes the souls of both brothers-in-law. – Oh aye, you will get tae know him most intimately. Because right now you have work tae dae.

Ah’m walkin through this graveyard but it’s aw covered in mist. Ah kin see heidstanes, but no make oot anything oan them. Toto’s lying doon by a grave, his wee paws ower his eyes, like he’s greetin. Ah go acroass n try tae talk tae him but he doesnae move they paws. Ah read the inscription on the stane. DANIEL MURPHY…

Aw man…

Then Toto’s paws go doon n ah see it isnae him, it’s a demon wi a reptile heid n it’s lookin right at ays…

Ah turns tae run n these radges wi big bulbous faces grab ays n one slams a chib intae ma gut…

NAWWWWW!!!!!

When ah comes to, it’s pure like the bad dream’s still gaun oan, cause it’s naewhaire ah’ve been before, yit still sortay ken, but ah kin hardly breathe. A sharp smell ay pish tickles ma nostrils. Ah huv tae fight through this pain, and a seek feelin in ma gut, tae make ma napper obey basic commands. Keep they blurry eyes open. Git that chokin tongue offay the roof ay the mooth…

Aw man… ah’m in a bed n shiverin like a kitten. Ma eyes are bleary like thir fill ay gunge n ah keep blinkin n the vision finally pills intae focus. Thaire’s a plasma bag on a metal stand, wi a tube coming fae it…

What the fuck, man…

I can hardly believe that this tube’s gaunny lead intae ma boady, even if ma brain’s sayin it’s a cast-iron cert! Ah lift up the thin covers n trace the tube under thum, tae track it gaun intae a bandage in the side ay ma stomach. Ah jump up in shock. Ah’m seek and sair and ah raise ma heid, tryin tae gain mair focus. Thaire’s stale lime-green waws, painted over auld patterned wallpaper that shows through. A stained maroon carpet. The room is pure seventies, a time warp ay aw the bedsits and shabby flats that have been the stages for aw the dramas ay the boy Murphy’s life…

That sickening feeling in ma tremblin boady: aw man, that’s awfay familiar. The air aw rank n fusty.

Ah hears a coughin n ah suddenly realises that thaire’s other cats in the room! Mikey Forrester’s there, so is that Victor Syme boy. Ah think he banjoed ays. That evil pus, man, it pure fills the room. — You ruined ma property. Destroyed it. Made it fuckin worthless.

— It wis an accident… ah find my voice, still croaking aw sair like ah’ve gargled broken gless. — What have you done…?

Syme looks at Mikey, then at two other gadges whae step forward ootay the shadows. One’s Sick Boy! The other yin’s the boy ah saw when ah wis hingin upside doon, aw trussed up. — Si! What happened? ah’m raspin. — What happened, Si?!

Sick Boy comes forward wi a gless ay water. — Here, Danny, drink this, pal. He helps ays sit up n huds it tae ma mooth. The tepid water seems tae roll ower the caked slime and scum in ma gob n throat. His beak twitches, n ah ken it’s cause ay ma breath. — Slowly, he says.

— I’ll leave you tae fill him in wi the details, Syme sais tae Sick Boy, and heads fir the door. Eh turns the handle and pulls it open, but stoaps n looks at Forry. — And get the rest ay this sorted oot! It’s on you, Mikey. Dinnae disappoint me again.

Mikey goes tae say something, but the cat’s words seem tae stick in his craw, just like mine, as Syme swaggers out ay the room.

Ah’m fuckin shitein masel, n ah pushes the beaker away. This isnae right. No at aw. N whaire’s the dug? — Si… Mikey… what happened? ah goes.

Sick Boy n Mikey look at each other. Sick Boy stands back n Mikey shrugs n goes, — Syme wanted payback for the kidney you’d ruined, so he felt he was entitled tae take one ay yours.

Ah touch the bandaged wound. Look at the tube. — Naw…

— It was either that, or, Sick Boy runs his hand ower his throat, — Finito. It took aw ay our joint powers ay persuasion, believe me. He looks tae Mikey. — He’ll tell ye!

— Aye, Mikey nods. — Ye were very lucky that Syme thoat he had a recipient that matched ye. It’s goat tae match, see?

— Whaaaat… Ah dinnae believe this! Ah try tae sit up proper, but ma whole boady is in pain n ah’ve nae strength in ma airms…

— Shhh, dinnae distress yourself, mate, Sick Boy sort ay coos, easing ays back doon intae the bed, makin ays sip mair water. — It was removed by Euan here, eh nods at the other gadge, — who is my brother-in-law, Carlotta’s man, and a qualified doctor. You were in the best possible hands, buddy boy!

Ah’m just glarin at this boy, but eh cannae look ays in the eye. Eh’s just shuffling aboot, eyes shiftin fae flair tae waws. Ah raises ma hand and points at um. — You, you took ma kidney? In here? Ah looks around at the pure squalor. — You’re a butcher!

— I’ve been dragged down a sewer, the boy sais, shakin his heid, but it’s no like he’s talkin tae anybody. — I only went out for a fucking drink at Christmas, on my birthday…

— IT’S YOUR FAULT! ah screams, pointin at Mikey, and then Sick Boy. — Youse two! Supposed tae be mates! Supposed tae be ma-hay-haytes… n ah feel the tears streamin doon ma face…

This is like, fucked…

Mikey turns away in shame, but no Sick Boy. Aw naw, no him. — That’s right, blame me! That cunt Syme was gaunny kill us all! I only got roped intae this because he wanted revenge and payback after you cost him thirty grand with that kidney! IT’S FUCK ALL TAE DAE WI ME! He pummels his ain chist in outrage, as his eyes protrude and his Adam’s aypil bobs. — NANE AY IT!

— Ah didnae ken… ah goes, —… it wis the dug, ah mean it wisnae his fault, jist an animal… didnae understand…

— What were you thinking, taking the fucking dug with you?! Leaving meat, unsupervised, wi a dug ?

— Wisnae meant tae go doon like this, Spud, n Forrester backs Sick Boy up. — You sais nowt aboot bringing yir daft wee dug oan the trip.

— Ah couldnae git anybody tae look eftir him, my voice screeches oot. Then ah gits a surge ay pure fear n ah’m lookin aroond, in panic. — Where is he? Whaire’s Toto?!

— He’s fine, Sick Boy goes.

— WHAIRE?!

— Syme has him at one ay the saunas. The lassies are dug-sittin. They’ll be spoiling him, taking him oot for walks.

— Ye cannae leave a perr wee dug wi that cruel bastard! He’d better no hurt Toto!

— Toto’s insurance, Mikey goes.

— For what? For what?! What ye sayin, Mikey?!

Mikey says nowt but looks at Sick Boy, whae raises his palms. — It was me, well, me and Mikey here, that convinced him to spare us wi this eye for an eye thing. It took some daein, that cunt is a fucking animal. His heid weaves fae side tae side, then he breks intae a smile. — But, throughout this fucking mess, there’s at least some good news!

Ah cannae believe this. — What? What’s good aboot this?!

— The kidney Shictor Schlime took, Sick Boy goes in that annoyin Bond voice, like it’s aw a joke, — for a client… it turns out that it was incompatible with his recipient after all.