Danny slung the backpack over his shoulder and stepped into the snow, his running shoes offered little protection against the slush. It had been snowing all weekend without letting up. He yanked on the drawstring of his hoodie and headed toward the canal, although Danny was walking his usual way to school he had no intention of arriving. It was a waste of time anyway. He could read and write do basic maths, what was the point in anything else? There were no aspirations amongst him and his friends other than getting to the age where they could be paid for doing nothing. The town was a dead end, not even big enough to merit being called a town. The closest jobs would be in the next town, or at the industrial park in between, and he wasn’t going to work in a fucking shop or factory.

He stepped off the path and started down the brick slope which led downwards to the canal towpath and slid down the smooth tiled sides. The canal had frozen over; the only way you could tell where the path ended and the canal began was the slight variants in the snows height. A shopping trolley sat motionless on the ice, Danny smirked and wondered if it had been one of his mates. Thinking of his surrogate family, he heard the music before he even rounded the bend to the bridge. He could see the huddled shapes of his crew, well, what he hoped to be part of. A member of the GMC was what he aspired to be. That was his vocation, and with the shoplifting and petty vandalism he was definitely getting the experience. When he showed up at school, he would sell some of the gear to his fellow pupils.

"Here comes Fannyboy." Neep jeered as Danny ducked under the low bridge. The others, four other lads from the estate laughed and slapped his back, fist bumped and gave their usual greetings.

"What’s going on man?" He nodded to Neep, their current elected leader. He was related to one of the older hard men of the estate and was always the one to come up with the goods.

Neep grinned, his teeth crooked, chipped from numerous fights, DIY tattoos adorned his face and neck; stars, daggers, twin savage Pitbulls each side of his throat. "Uncle Charlie’s due by in a bit with some quality shit."

"Nice one," Danny said grinning, wishing that the older boy would be a bit more specific. "I gotta go to fucking school, so you want me to take anything?"

Neep looked aghast, then nudged the lad to his left and winked, "see, this kid is conscientious. Offering to do work for us? He’s a good man, ain’t you Dan?"

Danny shrugged.

Bailey, a tall black youth, grinned and reached forward and yanked on Danny’s school tie.

"Hey Danny, your brother still taking it up the shitter?" said Motto, a skinny, greasy pimply boy, not much older than Danny, with his trademark annoying cackle.

Danny wasn’t keen on the lad, didn’t trust him at all, and was pretty sure he could take him in a fight. "As far as I know Michael," Danny said, knowing full well Motto hated being called by his real name, "but I’ll be sure to pass on your interest to him."

Motto’s smile vanished and he took a defensive step forward, further enraged by the other four gang members laughing and congratulating Danny on his epic comeback.

Neep put a hand on each of their bellies, "now, now ladies, we’re all friends here right?"

"Right," Danny nodded.

Motto was more reluctant.

Neep shoved his face against his staring him down, "Right, Michael?"

Motto nodded slowly, "Yeah right."

"Right," Neep said happily, "if you going to give it, you should be able to take it and all."

"Just like my brother," Danny muttered.

The whole gang joined in with this joke and Neep grabbed him in an affectionate headlock and ruffled his hair. "Man, I love this kid, fucking cracks me up no end."

Pyro and Benson, two big brutish boys, one with a particular liking for fire, exchanged glances at something that had caught their eye.

Pyro tapped Neep on the shoulder, "Hey Neepster, check who’s coming down the path."

The boys all turned in the direction Danny had come in, expecting to see a couple of the girls from the estate, or maybe a rival gang from the next town. But all they could see was a black-clad figure walking gingerly over the nearby bridge; a red bus passed him as he turned into the slope to the towpath.

"That’s that old Nazi prick." Motto said although they all knew the man’s distinctive tall frame. He stood at the top of the slope like he was having second thoughts about risking the descent.

"Ah he won’t come down here," Neep said as they watched him, "can’t believe the old bastard’s out in this. Don’t they have fucking Ring and Ride where he lives?"

"Old bastard could afford his own bloody chauffeur." Motto scowled.

They continued to watch as the figure started down and vanished out of sight.

Silence befell the group as they looked toward their leader with excited surprise. After almost a minute of no one saying a thing they heard the old man’s walking stick tapping on the ice as he made his way across the treacherous surface to the obscuring bend in the path.

Danny felt a wave of nausea and unease wash over him and for the want of something to do to stop his hands from shaking he busied himself with smartening his school tie and uniform.

Due to the reconstruction of Boxford Village Hall the footpath alongside it was out of bounds. Virtually everyone who lived on that side of the village would rather take the extra ten-minute walk through the Green Man housing estate than take the canal towpath.

Unsavoury types, mostly the younger generation, raised in one of the Green Man’s five multi-storey tower blocks, frequented the towpath.

Victor Krauss, ninety-year-old native of Germany and the wealth behind the Village Hall restoration, pushed his walking-stick into the ground and started slowly down the sloped steps.

The cold weather made his joints ache and the snow which had fallen three days previous increased this; however there was no way he was going to be intimidated by the prospect of young ruffians.

Standing by the frozen water he filled his lungs with the cleansing cold air, pulled the furred flaps of his hat over his ears and strode confidentially along.

He stopped in his tracks when he rounded the bend and saw the group of kids. Well, they were kids to him anyway, grouped around the bridge.

He considered turning around and forcing himself to take the bus to the shops, or even leave it another day.

There was at least half a dozen of them laughing and jostling one another. Music, if you could call it that blared from their mobile devices and they talked, or rather shouted over it.

Victor continued his walk, he was too old and stubborn to let his intimidation show, he had fought in the Second World War, albeit only briefly. He had met bloodthirsty Nazis who were pure evil, a mere soldier that he was; these children wouldn’t last a minute if they were to have met one of the SS in their prime.

But they were evil men, these just bored youths with nothing better to do. One was even in a school uniform for Heaven’s sake.

He faked confidence and continued his walk, careful not to lose his footing on the icy ground.

They all ceased their chatter when he approached them, eyeing each other conspiratorially.

Victor whistled and nodded to them with a smile as he made his way through the small group who stood beneath the bridge.

He had passed one of them and stepped into the gloom beneath the bridge when one of them tapped him on the shoulder.

“Yo Grandad, you got the time?"

Victor turned raising a grey eyebrow at the big kid who had asked him the time.

He smiled at the boy and rolled his sleeve up. “Yes, of course, dear boy. It’s almost nine o’clock."

The boy laughed and grunted, “cheers."

Victor nodded and turned to leave.

“Give us your wallet!"

That was when all Hell was unleashed, Victor’s shrieks pierced the afternoon and the murderous bloodbath ensued.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

Danny slid across the icy, worn brick pathway leaning to his left to prevent himself from slipping off the towpath and through the ice on the canal. It may have been thick enough there but he wasn’t prepared to take that risk.

He knew he had probably ruined all chances of joining the Green Man Crew now, but there was no way he was going to stand around whilst they mugged an old guy.

As Danny half-ran half-skidded across the slippery path he could hear the old man’s raised voice. His German lilt sounded like the Nazis in the old films his dad watched.

His lungs burned with the heavy exertion and the sharpness of the cold air. Plenty of smaller bridges spanned the canal path; he took refuge beneath an old footbridge.

A sudden loud crack came from behind him, for a second he wondered if Neep had gotten hold of a gun. He had bragged about it before. But it was soon followed by the sounds of splashing.

"Oh, fucking hell." Danny thought as he felt his bladder leak a little, images of Neep hurting the old man in numerous ways before throwing him in the sub-zero water sickened him to the core. Would he be an accessory to the murder?

The wet walls and the pissy smell didn’t even register with him as he pressed himself into a corner as small as possible. He bent over and vomited everything he had eaten that morning, he spat out every last part digested cornflake onto the steaming, stinking heap at his feet.

Danny knew he needed to move so forced himself to his feet. If Neep and the others came this way he would be bound to get it for running off on them. He started moving, fuck school, fuck the lot of them.

He wouldn’t feel safe until he was shut in his bedroom back at his dad’s place, and even then the fact that he was slap bang in the middle of the estate meant that he would never truly feel safe after this. Whatever repercussions that would follow would be his to bear.

His dad had hollered for him at dinner time. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach whatever greasy shit his father had whacked together for them, but knew he wouldn’t shut up until he made an appearance. Danny didn’t want to leave his room. He had been there all day since the incident; he could do without grief off his dad for wasting food even though the fat old wanker would eat his if he left it. His dad still cooked for the three of them even though Tony refused to eat his cooking. His gay brother was always health conscious and prepared his own food.

His father screamed for him again, there was something added to the normal irritation of his tone.

Danny slammed open his bedroom door and headed to the kitchen but saw his dad was in the lounge staring transfixed at the television. Danny’s blood ran cold as he inched into the room and saw a familiar stretch of canal on the local news. A scroll rolled across the lower screen with the story’s headline as the newsreader went through the details. The headline both confused him and made him retch up a throat full of bile.

FIVE KILLED IN FEROCIOUS DOG ATTACK