Harry's Coffin

One fine Wednesday, in the middle of a sunshine blessed summer holiday, Harry Baker's pet dog Sparks died.

At least, that's what Harry thought. But, later that same afternoon, scraping a large wooden coffin across cracked paving, struggling from his father’s workshop, Harry is amazed. No. Harry is astonished when Sparks bounds across the front lawn to meet him. Full of life. Right as rain. Dancing blur of paw and fur; splashes of black and white. Glimmers of pink tongue and gum, sharp off-white teeth and playful brown eyes. Anticipating. Expecting. Very much alive.

Dropping the coffin in shock, narrowly avoiding grubby toes peeking from worn sandals, Harry's expression slips through shades of confusion. Perhaps even, a strange sliver of disappointment.

"Sparks? I thought you were dead."

Content that the scene appears to be clear, Nestor disengages the engine and opens the door, heavy safety boots stepping carefully to concrete. He slides open a tall panel just behind the cab and unclips a short metal baton, gripping it tightly in a metal hand.

Then, just as he quietly lowers the panel in place, he hears it. A twisted, barely audible cry for help, followed by a terrible mix of gasping, groaning, then silence again.

Trembling at the sound, Nestor creeps towards the abandoned vehicle. Staring through the cab window and noticing the door on the other side is wide open. Holding the baton in front, Nestor moves round the front of the vehicle, following the sound of horribly laboured breathing.

As he turns, the full sight is revealed. A motionless body slumped against the side of the vehicle. Legs spreadeagled, arms hanging limply at the side, hands resting open on blood splattered concrete. Clothes ripped and punctured, with blood draining from terrible wounds underneath. Eyes narrowing then widening, peering from a horribly swollen, blood-stained face, pleading as Nestor approaches.

“Help…”

The Book of Orphans contains the following tales: The Mysterious Heroism of Archibald Crane, Ashes, The Barton Doghouse, The Tunnels of St Mary's, Mia Cartwright and the Beginning of Her End and The End of Her Beginning,  Ewan's Fortune, Happy Birthday Love Alice, David Crominous, The Night Shop, XY and The Suicide Companion, Nestor 33 and The Uncertain Destiny of The One-Eyed Dog.

Need to move, to get back to the apartment. Now. One foot. Next foot. Back up Swan Street. Not safe to be out after curfew, everyone knows that.

I stagger through bleak darkness. Outlines only. Dull ivory illumination and shots of red. Colder now too, drawing my coat together. I'm walking. Feels like I'm walking. Boots moving forward. Guts turning sideways.

Just as the movement of my feet becomes fluid, I hear a scream somewhere in the black ahead. A sharp and twisted tear through cold. Not the usual sound, some familiar street atrocity like a breaker, or a steal, gang rape or pay murder. No. Something else. Something wretched and painful, like a disease. A long, swirling moaning, cut with illness. For a tick, even my stomach stops turning.

Through gentle blur, I notice a crumpled shape crawling along the side of the road ahead. A ragged, piteous lump, shuffling towards me like moving wreckage.

I rub my eyes. Damn blur of the #10. Can't take a chance.

Another slice. Cutting the darkness wide open. Wrapping around me, sharpening me up through my nausea. I stagger sideways off the treadle, at least for a second. I'm out here and I shouldn't be. But this thing over there, if it doesn't stop, it'll get us all killed.