'Trust Me'

This is the chapter I wrote two years ago, sort of sets the tone for the book.

 

Ch 1 “Trust Me”

 

   The lights flared and shuddered and for a moment the burly man lost track of his surroundings.

 The press’ noise made him re-aware of where he was, the noise ensnared him, turned his attention to the podium engulfed with speakers and forced himself up the stairs to it. With a clammy hand the man brushed away the clingy black hair that had stuck to his forehead and pointed to an enthusiastic journalist waving his arms for attention.

  

The man obviously hadn’t expected to be chosen as it took him a minute to realise that the crowd and indeed the man on the podium were all waiting for him to speak. He rose, his mousy face lit with excitement.

   

“You, you’re our Governor of Defence,” he stammered unaware many journalists were sniggering at his unprofessional approach. “What are your thoughts on the increasing worry of the Korean nation’s growing amounts of ballistic missiles? Surely the government is worried about this?”

  

The hall went silent and the man sat back down, unaware of the importance of his question. No noise permeated the silence except for the occasional camera shutter or the scribbling of pens noting the Governor’s lack of response to the question. A grin spread across his weathered face, his laughter lines deepening as his smile intensified.

  

“There is no need to worry about the Koreans. It is true they now have more offensive missiles than England.” This raised a collective gasp as if the journalists thought that this was illegal.

 

He saw the worry on their faces and chuckled, the movement causing his flabby structure to wobble before continuing, “This is not a worrying revelation. The Koreans have assured us their arms are simply there to protect themselves from the intimidating size of Russia.”

 

He had hoped that that answer would quell any remaining questions left on the Korean debate, but the questions kept coming in a barrage, each question visibly uneasing the Governor.

 

He had had enough but still the questions kept coming, he knew that he would have to stop the questions soon or his patience would be lost. He raised his hands for silence and without understanding why the journalists all quietened and listened to him apprehensively.

  

“Look,” he said “I know you all find it unnerving that the Koreans have more weapons than us but…the world changes, as must we. I trust the Koreans as you all trust me, that’s all you’ve got to do: trust me.”

  With that he shot them a dazzling smile that would have made any corrupt politician proud.

                                        *

 

 The sound of raucous applause erupted from the television set until the remote on the screen cracked it and knocked it onto the floor. The hand that had thrown the remote retracted and parted hair similar to the Governor’s, however where the Governor’s hair was clingy and dull, this hair was vibrant and stood on end in all directions. The colour too was different; a dark auburn replaced the jet black colour of the Governor’s hair.

  

The boy who had thrown the remote glared at the smoking television set, aware he had just destroyed the most expensive thing in his room.

  

“Trust you?” he shouted “I wouldn’t even talk to you never mind bloody trust you, you lying git!” He gathered a shirt from his cupboard before flinging on a pair of black trousers. Just as he was grabbing his black jumper a screeching voice made him jump back in alarm.

  

“James Cloud just because your father isn’t home doesn’t mean you can swear. Do it again and the consequences will be dire!” He smiled as his mother confronted him at the door.

 Bless her, he thought; even though Dad’s away she still tries so hard to retain control. He edged his way out but his mother stopped him again.

  

“Did you hear me?” She asked him, desperate to sound serious. Cloud nodded coyly and pushed past her so he could walk to the bus stop.

 

As usual the air surrounding the bus stop was stifling; a result of the younger pupils darting around, screaming, playing football or generally destroying what had once been a lush patch of grass surrounded by beautiful trees; but was now was what could only be described as a haven for those who needed kindling.

 

Cloud pushed his way through a ball game some of them were playing, being careful not to disrupt them from their game lest he join in with them. Cloud had made that mistake a few weeks ago and by the end of their so called ‘game’ his normally youthful face was obscured by mud, his hair had become straggly and the only way people could recognise him was through his unique grey eyes.

  

Fortunately he had made his way through them safely today but before he knew what had hit him, a pain exploded in the back of his head before he dropped to the floor.

  

As he came to Cloud felt a sticky liquid seeping down his face. Slowly wiping his face the realisation that the liquid was his blood hit Cloud. Trying to make of sense of the events he rose, it couldn’t have been a mugging or his possessions would have been stolen by now. Maybe it was a joke gone wrong he thought to himself.

 This thought was immediately eliminated from his mind as he stood up; blocking his path were two hooded figures, one was immensely tall, the other brandishing a blood dripping bat. For a brief moment Cloud thought they were faceless until sense kicked in and he saw their masks...bloody cowards.

  

The tallest of the pair strode to Cloud, leaving the boy brandishing the bat behind, until he and Cloud were nearly face to face. He couldn’t see his face but the smell of sweat choked Cloud and he doubled back. The boy mistook this as fear and laughed, emitting a guttural sound that was not unlike someone choking.

  

He sprang, almost pressing on Cloud.

“How can your ‘Daddy’ be protecting us,” He snarled mockingly, “when he can’t even protect you? He doesn’t even know what he’s doing does he?” The fist to the stomach caught Cloud off guard and he was thrown across the ground.

 

So, he thought, struggling to regain his breath, these kids think they’re politicians. It’s always the same, bloody idiots hear there parents talk about my dad’s regimes thinking they could do better. So...they try and be diplomats and attack me thinking it’ll change things. Bloody fools. Well if they want a fight, I’m not one to disappoint.

 

Cloud pushed himself up from his knees and faced his would be assailant.

 

“Take off your mask coward; I want to see the fear in your eyes when I kick your a*s.” The insult worked and the boy rushed towards Cloud in an attempt to attack him, he threw at punch and missed as Cloud lent back. The boy fell forward but Cloud partially stopped his fall by grabbing the boy’s arm and swung his knee into his ribs.

  

  The hood flew back and the mask fell off before his foppish face was obscured by a mess of brown straggly hair. Two hateful beady eyes glared out of the mess at Cloud, the boy’s cracked lips moved into what Cloud could only assume was a snarl. The boy lunged at Cloud again, this time with more malice; more contempt like Cloud was the epitome of the boy’s hate.

  

  In one effortless motion Cloud span round the back of his attacker, grabbed his hood and pulled him back. The boy struggled, slowly choking from the hood but Cloud yanked his hair so the boy was looking up into Cloud’s emotionless eyes.

“Now...it’s common courtesy to give your name to your opponent.” He began, still choking the boy, “Seeing as you both obviously know me, how about telling me your names?” The boy with the bat shouted out from behind them,

 “Sharp, do you need help? Say the word and I’ll ‘sort’ him out.”  The name Sharp was obviously an alias but still; it was possible that Cloud could use this piece of information to his advantage. He was still choking Sharp and could see the boy’s grimy face start draining of colour.

  

“I really hope that’s not your real name, you b*****d. If it is then I think I understand why you’re so pissed off.” He pushed Sharp away from him, so the boy stumbled and fell over into the road. Cloud was moving towards Sharp so he could finish the fight once and for all but before he could reach him the boy with the bat had attacked him again and he fell to the floor. Damn he had forgot all about the kid with the bat.

  

  More blows rained upon Cloud, each slowly blurring and darkening his vision until he managed to roll over and face his attacker. His breathing slowed, his eyes slowly started to close from fatigue and he felt numb. Yet the pain in his ribs still wouldn’t subside. He doubted anything was actually broken, probably just shock. Still, he needed the fight to end before it really took a turn for the worst.

 

  His eyelids started to grow heavy as his head slumped back; he exhaled calmly as the boy raised the bat above his head looking as though he was going to kill Cloud. Damn, these boys really mean business. He lost conscienceness and Cloud accepted his fate.

 

                                               *

 Cloud was willing to accept he was probably dead, he felt no pain, was surrounded by darkness and like so many middle aged office working people older than him, he regretted most of his life. He accepted this because he was once told that on a long enough time scale everyone’s survival rate drops to zero, it was just his luck his rate had plummeted.

  

  Strangely though, even though he supposed he was dead, Cloud could still hear sounds of the continuation of the fight he had placed himself in. Damn, he was still alive, he should have felt joy but the main concern of his was; who had stepped in the fight for him?

   

   There was a sickening crack that sounded like a twig being hit by a thousand cars and a piercing scream followed it. Realising he was still alive Cloud was determined to open his eyes, but either fear or just fatigue stopped him from opening them. He slowly managed to open his eyes and expected the scene around him to be utter carnage.

  

   He was wrong. The scene that did greet him was one of normality, there was no blood splatters, no bodies strewn everywhere. Unless you had seen the fight you would never had suspected one had took place. Sharp and the other boy had fled, the younger pupils had resumed their games, and the only trace of the morning’s events was a small pool of blood forming from small drops of blood that fell in front of him.

  

   It slowly dawned on Cloud that the blood on his face was his own; he was on all fours attempting to catch his breath so logic dictated that the blood must have been dropping off his face. He pushed himself against a nearby wall and followed the trail of blood on his face to the origin. His hand found the wound just above his brow where the skin had split open and had started to ooze scarlet blood out. Cloud winced as he applied pressure on the wound to assess its seriousness; the pain immediately subsided showing the wound wasn’t too serious.

 

  Cloud stretched out his hand to grab his rucksack, he paused staring at his hand. It was covered in blood; his blood. Damn, I must look a mess, I’ll have to clean myself up Cloud thought. He unzipped the bag and withdrew some bandages. It would have looked weird to anyone watching, seeing Cloud take out bandages but for Cloud himself it was second nature. He was so used to random wannabe vigilantes attacking him it seemed wise to carry some sort of medical supplies with him at all times.

  

  With a shaking hand Cloud held back his auburn hair and wrapped the bandage round his head and over the wound with his other hand. Expertly, he fastened the bandages with one hand, satisfied they were tight enough he let go and allowed his hair to fall back over his face, effectively covering the bandages. It was only after he had finished that Cloud was able to realise that someone was stood in front of him.

  

   The boy extended a bloody hand and helped Cloud up, transfixed, Cloud saw the boy’s spiky blonde hair had flecks of blood in it. He saw the blood covering the boy’s once white shirt and realised it was he who had helped him.

  

“You know you’re covered in blood?” Cloud asked. The boy looked at him and smiled slyly.

“Don’t worry, half of it’s not mine.” With that he coolly wiped his bloody hand across his shirt, adding to the already scarlet display.

  “Gonna have to watch yourself Cloud, I’m not always gonna be able to save your a*s.”

   

  Every school has a kid like Mark Diver. The badass. The rebel. The one who breaks the rules to keep his own. The one who reminds you of all the anti heroes you idolised whilst younger. The cliché. The one who saves your a*s so many times you end up trusting him more than anyone else.

 

“So Princess...what was it this time?” Mark asked as he lit a cigarette. This was the one thing Cloud didn’t like about Mark: he smoked. Cloud wasn’t one to preach, in all honesty he had no right to but he hated smoking. Not because it was bad for him but because the damn smoke always went in his eyes and made him cry.

  

“Well don’t smoke or call me Princess and I’ll tell.” Cloud laughed, Mark pushed himself up on a wall so he could look out for the school bus.

 

“Aww Pwincess, did those nasty-wasty boys make you gwumpy?” Cloud jumped up onto the wall too and was about to respond when Mark blew smoke in his face. Cloud spluttered and choked as he felt tears well in his eyes. B*****d. He swiped at the cigarette and sent it flying from Mark’s mouth onto the road where it was crushed by the newly arrived bus. Simultaneously they burst into laughter and jumped off the wall before walking towards the bus.

  

   The younger pupils ran in front of them, cutting in front of the queue in order to get onto the bus that second or two quicker. They had stopped laughing and Mark pulled one of the smaller children out of the way so they could now get on the bus.

 

“Thanks for helping me out back there.” Cloud said as he got on the bus behind his friend. Mark turned his head and replied,

 

“It’s what mates are for ‘int it? To stop each other from getting killed by a mob?”

“Yeah well, if you’ve ever in any trouble like that, I’ll help you out. Count on it!” Mark smiled and started to walk towards his seat.

 “And when that time comes,” He shouted over the noise of the bus, “I bet you’ll stop the pricks in their tracks. Trust me.”

             

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Not as bad as I remembered tbh, reviews welcome :D