A Difficult Situation

‘Where is he?’ asked the voice, the question made sinister by the tone of delivery.

Craig looked into the cold flat eyes of his tormentor and winced as the gun twisted, lacerating the skin further. The lips, of the pock marked face inches from his, smiled, the eyes didn’t.

‘Come on, Craig, don’t make me do it,’ hissed the voice.

Craig knew the owner of the voice; he and Johnny Logan went back a long way, back as far as St Mathews juniors in fact. Born in the west end – the west end is the best end, they would chant, when they went against Saint Josephs – a close-knit community, in the near vertical streets that fell steeply down to the Tyne.

 It was morning break; the first day of term; Paul and Craig were in the schoolyard. Paul was Craig’s best friend and lived next door to him in Blaydon Terrace. Being new boys, they found a quiet corner in the playground and settled down to a game of marbles. Paul went first and ended up inside, at the back. Craig grinned, lined up and was about to blast him from circle, when a shadow fell over them.

‘Hey! New boys, move, this is our pitch!’ the speaker was broad and solid, with a pudding basin haircut and was backed by two of his cronies. They stood in a semi circle trapping Craig and Paul in the corner.

Since they, were the new boys and the bigger boys had a prior claim to the pitch, Craig picked up his marbles and prepared to leave.

‘Not so fast!’ said Pudding head; ‘you owe us for using the pitch, I’ll take the cats eye.’

‘No chance!’ said Craig; there was no way the big lug, was going to get his, tiger’s eye.

Pudding head, grabbed Craig, and slammed him into the corner, Paul tried to come to his aid, but the other two held him back.

‘Hand it over, or your friend get it,’ demanded Pudding Head, an evil grin on his fat face.

Craig sighed and put his hand in his pocket to get the tiger’s eye, it wasn’t worth seeing Paul beaten up for a marble. Suddenly, Pudding head, screamed, went cross-eyed and fell to his knees his hands clasped between his legs. The skinny kid with the pockmarked face, who had kicked him from behind, smiled and turned to the other two. He did not say anything, he just smiled and they ran off, leaving Pudding head sobbing on the ground.

‘Thanks,’ said Craig with a grin, ‘I’m Craig, this is Paul.’

 ‘My name’s Johnny.’ said the still smiling boy, and with the benefit of hindsight, Craig saw that even then, the smile did not reach his eyes.

That was twenty years ago. Now Johnny was working for the Flynns' and if Craig did not tell him where Paul was, Johnny would pull the trigger.

‘Last chance Craigy boy, where’s Paul.’

‘Gods truth, Johnny, I don’t know.’

He was the only one that knew where Paul was and God forgive him; he was so scared, that he was tempted to betray him. But he knew if he did, there would be two killings tonight. No, it was better, to say nothing and end it here.

‘Goodbye Craig,’ Johnny said, as his finger tightened on the trigger.

Craig closed his eyes, the report when it came was louder than he expected and when he cried out, the blood that ran down into his mouth, tasted hot and salty.