Rage - 1st Chapter from my work in progress for comments, please

I peered towards the house again, checking for any signs of movement from the inside. It didn't look like anyone was at home. All of the curtains of the downstairs rooms were closed, making it hard to tell if anyone was in. Was that a chink of light? Could I see shadows in the hallway? I wasn't sure. I double checked my scribbled handwriting on the notepad to make sure the details corresponded. I was certainly at the right house.

The car was battered by the high winds and sheets of rain as yet another front moved in from the Atlantic. My windows were starting to steam up again. I reached down and turned the dial, switching the demister up to maximum. I didn't want any signal from inside the house to be obscured. It was no use, the blowers did nothing for the windows and only made me uncomfortably hot. I'd take my jacket off but I didn't know when I'd need to fight my way outside and into the buffeting wind and rain. I was growing impatient. I couldn't justify waiting any longer. I reached above my head, pulling the microphone off it's holder and pressed the transmit button.

"Silver to base." Silver was my personal call sign.

"Go ahead Tam," came the reply. I winced. I hated having my name transmitted over the radio.

"No sign of life. Can you check the details for me?"

"Are you at the right house?" Of course I was. I didn't make mistakes. Mistakes cost time and money.

"Number 10?"

"Aye. I'll try contacting them." He sounded pissed off. He didn't like anybody making him work. He liked the shift to be quiet and easy, for the phone not to ring, for him not to have to double check his work. He wanted to dispense the work before putting his feet up in front of the telly, and still get paid for it.

"Thanks," I said. I was out here making a living too, except I didn't get paid by the hour. I was a freelancer and therefore got paid by the job. Sitting outside someone's front door wasn't going to make me rich.

I looked up and down the rest of the street. Maybe it was the wrong address? I cleared the rain off the front windscreen with my wipers. I was looking for signs of movement. Were there other houses lit up? Somebody standing at a front window watching, waiting?

Suddenly the radio crackled back into life. "All colours! All colours!" It wasn't excitement in Control's voice. He didn't get excited about anything. There definitely was a tremor there, though. Something was up. No point in replying, tying up the network. He knew we'd all be listening. I turned the volume up, making sure I'd hear every word. I could picture the other men doing the same.

"Just had a call from Ignatius." Ignatius. The code word for emergency. Somebody was in trouble. I started my engine and selected first gear. Waiting for further details.

"KA8. Big shop. Next to the traffic lights." My handbrake was off and my tyres spun on the wet road as I accelerated as fast as I could. The information was in code. Control wanted us all to hear where we should be, but not giving away too much information to someone who may be listening in. We all knew what he meant, but an outsider wouldn't. 'KA8 area' was the postcode for the streets north of the river. 'The big shop' was a supermarket. There were only two over that way. 'Next to the traffic lights.' This meant Savezone, a large 24-hour supermarket which sat back from the road with the car park and petrol station in front of it.

"Can't say," Control said over the radio. One of the others must have radioed in looking for more information, but he was reluctant to give any further details away. The problem with our radios was that anyone in the immediate vicinity could hear what was being said. This meant someone had to be close. Maybe too close for comfort.

I accelerated as hard as I could, changing up the gears at the right moment to get my speed up. I slowed down slightly for red traffic lights, but leaned on my horn as I went through them, making other road users aware of my presence, hoping they would get out of my way. Not many did. Most drivers hated us. They thought we had our own rules and did everything they could to hinder us at every opportunity. I always thought this was stupid. We had jobs to do and sometimes we had to park where we shouldn't, drive in a way which annoyed others. We couldn't help it. I looked at my speedometer. 60 miles an hour? Not bad for a 20 zone. I knew there was a speed camera up ahead. Did I slow down for it or just carry on? I wondered if this would be a reasonable excuse at my court case? Probably not. At the last moment, I slammed on my brakes, slowing the car down to 19 miles an hour before accelerating again once I was out of the camera's range.

I picked up the mic. "Be there in 1 minute."

"Roger silver. 60 seconds" Control confirmed not just for me, but hopefully it'd put whoever was in trouble at ease a little bit. I must have started a trend. "Roger blue, 2 minutes. Roger red, 2 and a half minutes." The other cars were radioing with their estimated arrival times too. If anyone was in real trouble, they'd know that the cavalry was on it's way.

I was now on a dual carriageway. Most of the time, there would be cars parked on the inside lane for the row of fast food shops opposite. I dodged the slow moving traffic in front of me, and back out to pass the parked cars, weaving in and out as I needed to. I didn't want anybody holding me up.

All of a sudden my vision was filled with bright blue flashes. I looked in my mirror. The police. The sirens followed shortly. I thought about stopping, letting them have their fun. I thought again. We might need them. I pressed my foot harder on the accelerator, speeding up. I had one eye on the road in front and one eye in my rear view mirror, watching what they were doing behind me. As long as they didn't try to do anything stupid, everything would be okay. The lights from the supermarket came into view further ahead on the left. The parked cars on the inside lane now disappeared, leaving both lanes clear. The police car was still behind me and closing in. I knew what they would do. They would use an empty lane to pass me in order to get in front and slow me down. I moved into the middle of the road, half in one lane and half in the other giving them no room to get past. Another hundred yards or so. I moved completely into the inside lane, ready to get a clear view of what was going on. I scoured the car park looking for one of ours. He wasn't up at the main entrance, nor was he in the car park itself. I slowed the car down, ready to turn left into the supermarket grounds. Then I saw him. Pedro. One of the good guys to work with. A hard worker who was always there with a cigarette and a joke for you.

His driver's door was open, along with the back passenger door. He was standing, one hand clutching his stomach, the other fending off blows from a man standing in front of him. It didn't look right. If the man was fighting Pedro, his stance would be different. Both of his hands would be up, ready to use as fists and to block any punch coming his way. Instead one hand was hanging down by his side, the other making sharp jabbing motions. I screeched the car to a halt and opened my door to get out. I had one leg on the road when I was knocked out of it completely, landing on the wet tarmac on my hands and knees. I was slightly winded and it took a second for me to realise what had happened. The police car hadn't stopped as quickly as mine and had rammed me from behind. I quickly picked myself up pointed towards the garage, hoping the police would quickly comprehend what was going on. I looked behind me as they both decamped their car and I shouted "Someone in trouble," as I pointed again towards where Pedro dodged another blow from his assailant. I ran as fast as I could, working out the best, and safest way for me to tackle Pedro's attacker.

It was then that I saw the knife. The lights from the forecourt caused it to glint in the man's hand. I still ran forward, but wasn't too sure now. I knew I could hold my own in a straight up fight, but a knife? I turned towards the policemen who were still chasing me. I shouted "Knife! He's got a knife". I expected them to take heed of what I was saying and react to it but they didn't. One of them tripped me to the ground as they both piled on top of me. I got a few punches in the small of my back. They were obviously going for my kidneys. There was no reason for it, except for the fact that they were police and I wasn't. I shouted again that I there was a man with a knife, but it was no use. This time I got a fist in the stomach. I was definitely winded this time with the pain.

I heard the sound of a speeding vehicle slide to a stop. I heard Jim's voice shouting "Pedro!" He had obviously seen what was happening. I turned my head to towards him.

"Jim!" I shouted. "Jim. Tell these fuckers what's going on!"

"Right, ya pair of clowns! Get over there and do your job!" Only then did the policemen start to take notice of what was going on 50 feet from where they were trying to wrestle their handcuffs onto my wrists.

"You stay here!" I was told by one of them as they made their way towards the garage forecourt.

"Put the knife down, now!" The other one bellowed. The man with the knife turned and, as if noticing the police for the first time, took to his heels, running the opposite direction towards the back of the supermarket. The two policemen started to give chase. I made my way towards Pedro. That was when I saw why he was holding his stomach. His hand was covered in blood and the bottom of his shirt was soaked with crimson, sticking to his body. The knife had obviously caught him. I shouted to Jim "Phone an ambulance!" He made his way back towards his car. I helped Pedro to sit down.

I had another look around and my eyes locked on to Louisa, the night shift cashier in the petrol station. Her face was white and her eyes and mouth were wide open. She'd obviously had a fright. She must have seen everything. I shouted to her "Have you got a towel or something?" She didn't acknowledge me. Just stared at Pedro slumped on the ground. I looked at my watch, 10:15pm. The main door would be locked at this time of night. I walked towards the serving hatch. I stood in front of her. I couldn't help but thinking how beautiful she was, even at that moment in time. She still stared past me at Pedro. I moved slightly to the side so I would come into her field of vision and block out the sight behind me. It took a few seconds before she appeared to snap back to reality and focussed on me. "Do you have a towel or something I can use to try and stop the bleeding?" I asked her.

"What?" She was dazed. "I mean, yes. No. It's only a hand dryer we've got in the toilet."

"What about some kitchen paper then?" Nodding towards the shelves at the far side of the kiosk.

"Right, hold on," she started making her way round onto the shop floor from behind her counter. She looked uneasy on her feet, maybe feeling a bit faint. Poor thing. She must have witnessed everything. She came back and pushed the rolls through the serving hatch.

"You okay?" I asked. She looked at me and shook her head slowly. It was then that the tears began to well up in her.

"Hey, don't cry," I said in the most soothing voice I could manage. "Get on the phone and get someone over here to help you." There must be staff in the main shop who could come over and make her a cup of tea or something.

In that moment I really felt for her. I was in love with her, always had been from the first time I'd laid eyes on her. I had no idea how she felt about me. Probably not the same way - I'd just be another customer to her. But still, I hated the thought of her being in this state that she was.

I went back Pedro, tearing open the cellophane wrapper of the kitchen paper with my teeth and started unwrapping one of the rolls. He was now lying on his side, curled into the foetal position, clutching his stomach and moaning. I knelt down beside him.

"Hey, buddy. You don't get paid for breaks in this job." Joking. Trying to lighten the mood. Maybe not trying to get a laugh out of him, but trying to ease the tension a little bit. I bundled up the paper and tried to slide it under his shirt and over the wound in his stomach. His eyes flickered and his mouth twitched. I thought he might be losing consciousness.

"Here, hold this," I told him, trying to get him to do something, keep his mind focussed on a job, maybe keep him awake.

"Billy Russell" he whispered.

"What?" I asked. "Billy Russell did this to you?"

"Aye." Bastard. Billy Russell was a junkie scumbag. Well known around the town as a shoplifter, granny mugger, anything to get his hands on some cash for his next fix.

"I honestly didn't see who it was, Pedro. The police are chasing him so they'll catch him soon enough."

"Aye, right!" He didn't believe me. Come to think of it, I didn't believe me.

I took my jacket off and rolled it into a ball, slipping it under Pedro's head as a makeshift pillow. There wasn't much else I could do except wait for the ambulance. I looked at Jim who was lighting a cigarette. He had obviously finished the call. The ambulance would be on it's way. I looked towards the part of the car park where Billy Russell had ran, chased by the police. I wondered if they'd caught up with him yet. I looked down and asked him how he was. He just gave me a look that said 'How the fuck do you think I am?' If it wasn't so serious I'd have laughed. I was concerned, though. He was losing a lot of blood. The hand holding the towels to his stomach was weak. I moved it out of the way and placed another, clean bundle in it's place. His own hand couldn't hold it in place much longer so I did, keeping as much pressure on it without hurting him too much.

I heard more cars arriving, although still no ambulance. The newcomers craned their necks to see what was going on and stopped beside Jim to find out what was happening.

"Ian. IAN!" I shouted to one of the new arrivals, trying to get his attention over the chatter of everyone asking questions.

"What?"

"You know where Pedro lives." It was a statement, not a question. "Get up there, chap his missus up and get her down here as soon as. Don't worry too much about the speed limits."

Hopefully he would pick up on what I meant. Get Pedro's wife down here because I didn't think he had long to go. Not with the amount of blood that was pouring out of him. He gasped and tried to move my hand away. I must have been hurting him but knew I had to do this. I tried to sooth him.

"It's ok. Ian's away to get Vicky and bring her down to see you."

"Tell...tell..." his voice was weak. Almost a whisper. "Tell... Vicks... I'm... sorry"

"Tell Vicky you're sorry for what? Being so ugly? Being shit in bed?" Again trying with the humour. I didn't know what else to do.

"No. Not... going... to... see... her..."

"Of course you will. You'll be back being a pain in the arse to her in no time."

"No... Can't..." He drifted off, his eyes fluttering as though he was trying to keep them open but his brain telling them different. I stroked hair away from his forehead, my right hand still keeping pressure on his stomach. He took several gulps of air through his mouth before letting it all out in one long breath through his nose. I felt for a pulse, but there wasn't one.

My friend was dead.