Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
A child of immigrants from Northern Ireland, Gerry Flaherty struggled to adjust to his new life in London’s Southwark bourough. In school, his grades were consistently below average. He was harassed by schoolmates who called him a “fucking Mick” and his parents “a bunch of IRA thugs.” The constant barrage of bullying over time fueled Gerry’s fighting nature which led to a string of suspensions from school as well as stints in juvenile hall. Those arrests made employment hard to find and even harder to keep.
The only friends he had were fellow cast offs from the same Block his parents lived in till they died. They were brought together into a black Ford Astro Van one day by a mysterious text. Each one emanated from the same number (242766) and had the same message- “a black van will come to take you at Midnight for a job.”
“What do you think this job’s about?” One of the hoods, Ray, pondered aloud as the rest of the group of seven sat listening to Dance and Hip Hop music on Radio 1.
“Maybe it’s a hit job,” Another hood, Jimmy, uttered with a chuckle. “Off some rich stiff, bury the body, scoop some’a his loot and dash. That’d be pretty awesome.”
“We’ll probably end up having to dig up some guy’s drug stash,” Arthur, the self-proclaimed brainy one of the group, admitted as the van shook for a second over a bumpy road. “Or provide muscle for some skeezy kingpin. That’s the only reason they’d use blokes like us. We’re the expendable ones they chuck out when the Rozzas come!”
“Why don’t we just ask the bloke driving us what’s up,” Gerry looked over at the front seat, taking in everyone’s opinion. “Sure as shit beats hearing you lot spitting out random guesses.”
He stood up and moved toward the front of the van, deftly keeping his bAmandace as the tools inside shook around. He banged twice on the metal siding to get the driver’s attention. “Heya,” A few seconds passed. He banged twice more on the same panel a little louder than before. “Hey! I wanted to ax you something.”
Just as the first time, the driver gave no response. The only thing the person did was to gradually turn the volume up on the radio, filtering more of the night’s House beats into the back of the van. Gerry pounded the van wall in frustration before walking back to his seat.
“Prick!” one of the men yelled out, muted by the stereo system. He was joined by others inside who used much stronger words directed at the driver.
“He probably doesn’t wanna hear our shit right now,” Gerry barked as he wobbled the last step to his seat. “Once we stop, then we’ll ask him.”
“Where the fuck else are we gonna go, mate?” Jimmy sarcastically shouted, eliciting a round of laughs from the other men.
The ride dragged on for another ten minutes as they waited in the people carrier and the music continued. Suddenly, the van came to a stop followed a second later by the radio. The men inside waited with curious anticipation as they heard the sound of a car door opening. It was followed by the sound of footsteps looping around the side.
“Here we fuckin’ go!” Jimmy said with a whoop shared by a few of the others. He looked through a crack in the metal grate to catch a glimpse of the driver.
“Man, I hope this gig is in Manchester,” Ray said with a smile. “I got a bird there I haven’t seen in months. After this crap, I'd love to get me rocks off with her!”
“Ya mean like Moe did last week?” the youngest of the group, Arthur, chirped to a chorus of laughter.
Ray greeted the news by leaping up with a small switchblade in hand and, moving towards Edward with murderous intent. As he was swung to drive the steel into Arthur’s belly, the back door of the van swung open sending a rush of cold air at the two of them along with the rest of the group. They looked out and saw no one standing there.
They stepped out of the van one by one and better surveyed their new surroundings. It was a barren plot of land with only a few patches of grass colored with the bright hues of late spring. In the distance, they could see the skyline of a city that twinkled in places with lights. It was something that stood in far contrast to the urban slums each of them called home.
“Where’s the driver?” Jimmy asked with the same mix of anger and confusion as the group. “Maybe he can explain what’s going on, like how the damn doors magically opened by themselves.”
“I’m gonna fuckin’ kick his arse till he tells us why we’re here!” Steve cried, pulling his large knife out of its holster and running to the driver side door.
He ripped open the driver’s side door with the fury of a man with violent intentions. The rest of the group gathered behind them, looking inside to see who this person was. What they found though was the same thing as they did moments earlier: nothing. All that Steve saw was an empty seat and a manual transmission.
“What the hell—”
He walked away from the van followed by the rest of the group in a confused haze. As he walked back, his phone began ringing along with those of every other person there.
“Where the hell are we?” Ray said, scratching his head.
“From the looks of the skyline,” Jimmy uttered. “it’s either Kent or Colchester.”
As they were walking, their cell phones rang. The seven of them stopped, inadvertently forming a circle. They each looked down to see who the call was coming from. It was another text message delivered from the same phone number as the first one. On it was written- “Move twenty-five feet to the north. Bring the equipment. I will arrive.”
The group began to grumble. Some of them suggested the idea of hot wiring the van and driving back to Southwark. Others wanted to stay, arguing that whatever was here must be valuable. After a couple of minutes of argument, they decided to stay and see what happens.
Led by Gerry, the seven of them gathered up the excavation equipment and walked the twenty-five feet up to the place ordered out in the mysterious text message. Once they reached the position, they waited for this mystery man to appear. And waited. And waited some more.
“What the hell’s keeping this guy?” Steve asked in frustration. “He must be the fuckin’ pope or some shit like that!”
“Just be patient,” Gerry said in a more patient tone. “I’m sure he’ll come soon.”
The group continued waiting for another hour in the cold night. Those who wanted to return to the van raised their objections once again. This time, there was a wider acceptance from the rest of the group. As the others dropped their individual pieces of excavation equipment on the ground and walked away, the Earth started to shake beneath.
“Holy...Hell!” Gerry cried. He tried to stay upright using a nearby pickaxe as a cane.
His handle on the axe loosened as the shaking hit the ninety-second mark without ceasing. As he was about to fall down, the shaking suddenly stopped. Gerry noticed a mound start to form in the same area they were to dig. It first manifested itself in a tiny bump that looked like a newly formed anthill. Quickly, it grew into a hill sized mound of dirt. It didn’t take long for him to realize something was forcing this up.
Each member of the group looked on as the mound grew larger. After a few moments, the mound split open and something rose out. It appeared to be a person’s head or hand, which became more and more noticeable the larger the hole became. Another minute later the mound of dirt exploded and the person inside emerged to float above the hole.
The figure had piercing blue eyes and flowing black hair that stretched down the lean muscular physique of his body. He was dressed in a white toga that fell to his thighs. On the left side of it was clipped a gold broach. The young men stood speechless at the superhero-like man floating above them.
Gerry stepped forward cautiously. “Who are you?” he asked.
“My name is Charon, young humans,” the figure descended to the surface without acknowledging Gerry’s presence. “I am the right hand man of Hades.”
“Are you fucking jokin’, man,” Steve scoffed, stepping past Gerry to stand before Charon. “He’s an imaginary character. He ain’t real!”
Charon’s feature grew stormy as Steve turned to the others and spoke. “He’s probably just some fucking wanker who wants us to—”
Before he could finish, Charon disposed of him with a flick of his wrist. The simple action sent Steve flying skyward into the cold night air for over five seconds before landing with a vicious thud fifty feet away. Charon cleared his throat and drew his hand across his dark locks calmly.
“From now on, only Gerry is allowed to address me. Is that understood?”
The other men quickly nodded their heads in agreement. “Are you the one who sent us all the texts, Mr. Charon?” Gerry asked, timidly approaching the underworld figure.
“That I am, young man.” He moved closer to Gerry. “I gathered you all here this evening to procure something for me.”
“What are we going to dig up?”
“It is not in the ground, Mr. Gerry. At least not yet.” Charon reached into his toga and pulled out a blue ball of swirling energy that was no bigger than his head, showing it off to the others who marveled at the intricate spherical design.
“What is that?”
“This…is the future. Your key to immortality,” he tossed the ball up into the sky like a football. Charon then leapt up a hundred feet into the sky and spiked it deep into the ground. The blue ball hardly made a sound as it re-entered the soft dirt. “Not to mention a bevy of untold riches.”
A chorus of skeptical and somewhat nervous laughter erupted from the five men when they heard it. “You’re off your fucking nutter, mate,” Arthur said. “There’s no way the future is in a plod of dirt in the middle of fuckin’ Britain!”
Charon moved toward the edge of the circle as the other stood back. He gazed at the young man’s cocky Cheshire grin for a couple of seconds. “I said only Gerry was allowed to speak to me.” With a flick of his left wrist, he turned Arthur into a ball of ash. He went down on one knee, holding the pile of ash in his left hand as the others were locked in a state of fright. “...mate!”
“Are we perfectly clear, gentlemen?” The demi-god added with a menacing glare.
The five remaining hoods were silenced by the power he displayed. They worked long into the cold Colchester evening, digging up a bubbling blue liquid just as the sun began to rise again. It was the hardest work that many of them had ever done, with exception of their previous stints at juvie. Unfortunately, they would not be able to gloat about the wonders they had seen to their friends back home.