Alistair McIntyre - Shallow Creek

“You fancy a go then, mate?” Mohawk asked, slapping the club into the palm of his hand. His shirt had no sleeves, revealing fully tattooed arms that hinted this Englishman thought he was a badass.

“How about I knock a few of those crooked-ass teeth out for you?”

To Brendan’s left, moans from his first victims echoed in the darkness beyond the reach of the overhead spotlight. A rustle came from behind him.

Fisher.

Brendan turned too late. Something punched him in the back of his legs with the force of a pissed off mule. He fell forward as the desk stopped sliding across the concrete floor. Fisher must’ve kicked it.

The other two men came at him with billy clubs swinging. Brendan fended the first few blows on his forearms as he fell back onto the floor. Each impact rocked his entire body. After four or five, his brain’s emergency systems kicked in. He tried to roll and weather the attacks long enough to get up, but a strike to the back of his head smashed his face into the concrete.

His arms splayed wide of their own accord and left him lying spread-eagle and helpless. The onslaught continued while he struggled to assume some semblance of the fetal position. His brain wandered off to a better place as he kicked futilely in the general directions of the attackers. After an absurd length of time, Fisher’s voice muttered something and the blows ceased.

Brendan propped himself up slowly onto his hands and knees. His left eye had swollen shut mostly, but out of his right he could see Fisher’s feet next to him, close to where Brendan’s blood was pooling after dripping off his face.

“I don’t give a shit what you think you’re doing here,” Fisher said.

The arrogance of the tone drove Brendan nuts, but he was in no position to do anything about it. This asshole had needed four other thugs to break Brendan down, and now he had the balls to talk down to him? Brendan vowed to kill this fuck if it was the last thing he did.

“Still don’t want to talk? Fine. If you’re a dealer or not, you should know that this is my fucking town, and you need to get the fuck out of it.”

Brendan reached a hand up to the desk and weakly tried to pull himself up. Fisher, or one of his goons, swiped at Brendan’s arm, leaving him back on all fours.

“Out of respect for your brother, I’m not going to kill you,” Fisher explained. “But you better fucking get the message.”

Brendan’s face twitched away as Fisher’s boot shot into view, but it was too late. The message was received.

Chapter 14

Everything was dark. A steady beep emanated nearby. Brendan initially felt no desire to investigate. All he wanted to do was relax, and the warm sensation flowing from the base of his spine up to the top of his skull encouraged him to do just that.

His eyelids fluttered slightly, revealing that they’d been closed this whole time. Was there a reason to open them? The sergeant wouldn’t let him sleep if he wasn’t supposed to. He’d just wait for one of his barracks mates to wake him.

Something touched his hand.

Someone said his name.

He jerked his head towards the sound and immediately regretted it. Pain lanced up his back and through his neck, forcing him to cry out. He grit his teeth and opened his eyes to find his mother sitting at his bedside, drawing her hand back tentatively from his own.

“Where am I?” he asked. “What happened?”

He tried to sit up, but agony grappled his core in spasmodic waves. Michelle appeared to his left, gently ushering him back down onto the bed.

“Easy, Tenny,” she whispered soothingly. “Easy there.”

Her voice provided the required calming effect. Brendan stopped resisting and just lay back as she stroked his arm gently.

“You’re in the hospital, hun.”

That was from his mom.

“Yeah, I can see that now,” he murmured, feeling the sleepy pull of the painkillers.

When he opened his eyes again, tears streamed down his mother’s face. He tried to smile for her, but the left side of his face hurt too much, so he just winced instead.

“It’s so good to see you awake, honey.” She gripped his hand in hers. “I was so worried.”

She released him and stood up, excusing herself to use the restroom.

“You two been waiting long?” Brendan asked Michelle as his mom left.

“Yeah, and she hasn’t left your side for a minute,” Michelle said with a smile. “That lady’s got the bladder of a camel.”

Brendan laughed slightly, but tried to stop when a spear of pain pierced his back.

“Sorry, sorry,” Michelle said, still smiling. “I shouldn’t make you laugh.”

“It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“You’re anything but fine. You’re a real mess.”

“I’ve got your cousin to thank for that.”

Michelle’s face darkened. “My cousin?” she snapped. “Scott did this to you?”

“Not just him. I could take him easy. It was the other four guys who worked me over.”

“So wait, how did this happen? Where was this?” She rested her hand on his bare arm.

Brendan was a bit confused.

“Uh, it was at a warehouse on the edge of town,” he said. “Isn’t that where you guys found me?”

“Why would we look for you out there?” she asked, puzzled. “No, Marcus dropped you off at the emergency room and then took off to go to work when I got here. He’s the one who called me to come stay with you, so I called your mom, too.”

“Is he okay?”

“Who, Marcus? He’s fine, except he has a nasty welt on his head. Wouldn’t talk about it, though,” Michelle said. “Wouldn’t look so bad if he didn’t shave his hair down to nothing.”

Brendan took a moment to run through what he remembered from the night before. At least, he thought it was from the night before. He could’ve been out for days, and yet he still felt exhausted.

“So what were you doing at that warehouse?” She looked over her shoulder towards the door for a moment before turning back to him.

Brendan laughed pitifully before a painful coughing fit took hold. Once his body released him from that torment, he recounted his story, starting with the break-in at his parents’ house, seeing his sister, all the way through to his meeting with Fisher.

“I’d hit you if you weren’t already beat up, Tenny,” Michelle said when he finished. “What are you trying to do? Get yourself killed?”

That wasn’t exactly the reaction Brendan had been looking for when he’d set out to purge the drug problem from his hometown.

“I want to fix this place,” he said quietly. “If the police won’t do it, I will.”

Now Michelle scowled.

“You’re just going to get yourself killed,” she stated.

“Maybe, but I can’t sit still and let Taryn live like this,” he retorted. “I can’t live with that.”

“I’m not sure that’s how addiction works,” she said. “Just taking away some drugs isn’t going to solve anything.”

“It’s a start.”

Michelle sighed deeply. “You’ve always been stubborn.” She stroked the side of his head. “I don’t think I can talk you out of this right now, but when the doctor releases you tomorrow, how about I take you out for a five-star meal at Schmidt’s?” Schmidt’s was a local diner, and a far cry from any kind of stars, but Brendan and Michelle had frequented the joint together all throughout high school.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Come on, it’s the least I can do to make up for my asshole cousin,” she said, screwing up her face at the mention of Fisher.

“Sure, sounds good,” he said, feeling the inexorable urge to pass out again.

He vaguely caught sight of his mom reentering the room. The two women embraced, and then Michelle left with a wave. Brendan closed his eyes and just let them be.