He fired. D wrenched me sideways and then the bullet hit D. He went down, and the soldier is coming towards us and I’m asking D if he’s alright and D’s not saying anything and the guy’s got his gun up again and trained on me and then … then Baz slips out of the shadows and sticks a knife through the soldier’s back and into his heart and, for good measure, slices his neck open. The blood. It sprays over us all. We can’t see it in the dark, but we can feel it hitting us and when we try and wipe it away it just gets everywhere. And there’s that metallic tang that I will never forget. That was the first time I’d really got a noseful. Since then, it’s mainly been my blood, but it smells the same. Weird, eh? There are dogs barking and Baz is laughing all low and crazy. D’s breathing, but I don’t like the sound of it. It’s kind of ‘wet’. Then there’s the staccato of running boots. Lots of boots. Lots and lots of boots. Then spotlights. Baz has picked up the dead soldier’s gun and is shooting into the dark. Shooting at the sound of boots. And the boots are shooting back. Baz goes down with a bullet in his leg and then they’re all over us. Kicking us and hitting us. I throw myself over D to protect him, so I get double. When the officer arrives he calls them off. First time I’d ever been pleased to see one of them. Last time too. They took us to the jail and threw us in the cells. In a gesture I didn’t understand at first, they came and took Baz and D out. Straight to the military hospital. After that, the guards beat me senseless – but without breaking any bones. Clever that. It’s not an easy thing to do apparently. That’s what they told me when I woke up. Just before they did it again. It went on – on and off, depending on how bored they were, or how well they knew the guy Baz killed – for ever. He’d had a lot of friends. While this was going on for me, D and Baz recovered. Recovered so they could be good and healthy when they were made an example of, along with me. I’d told the guards a hundred times that I hadn’t touched the knife. That it was Baz. I didn’t care about ratting on him after what he’d 98
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