Page 53 of Fury
I’d barely stepped out of the vehicle when I heard footsteps coming up on me quick. Urgent steps, heavier as they got closer. I straightened, a fist balled, ready to defend, the hi-vis fabric waistcoat now catching my eye.
“Ya can’t park there, mate.”
I looked at him quizzically. It was a fucking parking space.
“I’m looking after those bikes.” he pointed to the four Harleys leaning to one side on their kickstands. “I don’t want anyone getting too close. Can’t have them scratched.”
“Mate, I’ll not even breathe near them the wrong way.”
The security guard looked me up and down, a hint of fear in his eyes. The lads had tasked him to look after those bikes, and that was what he was doing. And now the fella was working out whether to be more scared of them than me. On another night, I would have pushed him to see what decision he made. Tonight, I was tired. I was ready to crawl into my bed and not resurface until after lunch, when the takeaway below me started serving food again and the smells would wake my hungry belly.
I turned my back, flashing my colours.
“Oh,” he said, relief filling his voice. “Go on in, mate. I’ll look out for the truck, too.”
“Thanks, fella. Appreciate it.”
“Your brother is in A and E. Just through there,” he pointed eagerly to the double doors where the ‘Accident and Emergency’ sign hung over the top.
“Thanks mate.” I patted him on the shoulder and was about to stride off, but then stopped turning round. “Hey, fella,” I called out to the retreating security guard.
“Yes, boss?”
“You ride?” I gestured to the bikes.
“Aye mate. Got my own Harley. A Road King. Wanna see?” He reached into his jacket.
I shook my head, and disappointment filled his face, hitting me in the stomach.
“Not tonight. Need to go see this brother of ours. But we’re looking for new prospects. Get ya self down to the Dog on the Tyne sometime. Show me that bike of yours.”
The man’s face lit up, his lips twitching as he tried desperately to keep the smile from me. I walked off. Must have been feeling generous tonight. Heidi’s fucking pussy was screwing with my brain.
Accident and emergency was quiet. A few people sat in the waiting room, their heads bowed over the top of phones or asleep altogether. I walked to the reception desk, the young lass on her own behind the glass, looking up and staring at me.
“Where can I find Rob Taylor?” I asked, hesitating a little when I had to remember Beanz’s actual name.
“He’s in a treatment room at the moment.”
“Which one?”
“I can’t give you that information.”
“Ok.”
I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and dialled Magnet.
“I’m here mate. Come let me through.”
If the receptionist heard, she didn’t stop me as I moved towards a set of double doors that Magnet’s head now popped out of.
I followed down the corridor, my boots sticking on the hospital issue lino until we came to a room right at the far corner, away from nearly everyone else. Beanz lay on the bed, his face purple and swollen, his baked bean shaped head now more like an engorged watermelon.
“Shit, Beanz, you look rough.” I greeted him, glancing at the faces of the twins and Reap, who were leaning against the wall on the far side of the room. “We’ve been looking for you. Bet you wish we’d found you before they did, huh?”
Beanz didn’t answer, the eye that wasn’t totally swollen shut staring straight ahead.
“Where d’you find him?” I asked Magnet.