Skippy Dies: A Novel

Mom is cleaning the kitchen. She has been cleaning it for hours, down on her knees in her dressing gown. The bucket of stuff smells like it could get you high. I’m going out Carl says. Mom doesn’t hear him.

Barry is waiting at Ed’s when he gets there, walking up and down like a dog that’s been tied up. A second later the car pulls up and the door swings open.

Inside everybody’s eyes are red from hash smoke. They’re all laughing and slagging each other like usual but underneath you can feel other things swirl around like sharks. Carl sits in the boot because there’s no room. He watches the Saturday-night streets outside, chippers, billboards, traffic lights, like a huge hand slowly closing around them.

Across Deano’s knees the sports bag from under the bed.

In his head a black field, hands rising out of the grass.

Where is the place? Barry says.

Not far, Mark says.

Everybody chewing the inside of their mouths. To distract them Deano asks, if they could have any bird, who would be their number one. I’ll go first. Angelina Jolie, hands fuckin down. Mark says Scarlett. Knoxer says BETHani. Uh, is she legal yet? Deano goes. If she’s old enough to bleed, goes Knoxer. Barry says Beyoncé. But she’s black! Ste says and everyone laughs.

What about you, head? Deano says.

Carl wants to say Lori just to say her name. But he doesn’t want to say it in this car. It’s like she’s sand now, magic sand, he has only a little left, and if he takes it out here it will be blown away.

Well?

LORILORILORI, goes his brain. He feels like crying. Beyoncé as well, he says.

Knoxer grunts, Fuck’s sake.

Stephen? Deano says to Ste. Ste is quiet for a long time. Then he says, Helen of Troy.

What?

Who the fuck is Helen of Troy?

She was Greek, Ste says. They had a war about her. Vietnam? Carl says. No, you spa, Ste says, like a thousand years ago, in Greece.

That’s stupid, Deano says.

Why is it stupid?

Because, you don’t even know what she looked like.

They had a fuckin war over her. Obviously she must have been pretty fuckin hot.

Yeah, but it has to be someone alive, Deano says.

Why? Ste says.

Because how are you goin to ride her if she’s fuckin dead?

For fuck’s sake – Ste is getting pissed off – it’s a game, you cunt. It doesn’t matter who we fuckin pick. You think Angelina fuckin Jolie’s going to ride you just cos you picked her? If Angelina Jolie was right here in this fuckin car I bet you a million quid she’d ride fuckin Looney Tunes here before she rode you.

Deano shuts his mouth tight and looks out the window.

I’m just sayin, Ste says, if you want to pick the hottest bird, like, you’ve got your Beyoncés and your Angelinas and all them, but the little old lady shufflin off to fuckin bingo night, fifty years ago she could have been sexier than all of them. She could’ve been the sexiest bird of all time. And then, on top of that, there’s all the birds that are dead. Like in history, there must have been millions of amazing rides. But we’ll never even know what they looked like.

What the fuck are you on about, you gimp? Knoxer says.

I dunno, Ste says. It just seems sort of unfair.

Maybe someday someone will invent a time machine and you can go back and ride all the dead birds, Deano says.

Youse lads are fuckin strange, Knoxer says. Then the car stops and everyone goes quiet.

We’re he-ere, Mark says in a Poltergeist voice.

They are on an ordinary-looking road lined with ordinary-looking houses. Right in front of the car, though, in the middle of the normal houses, are these gates. They remind Carl of Lori’s gates but they’re not in Foxrock, he doesn’t know where they are. A wall too tall to climb runs from the gates away behind the houses.

For a minute they sit there in the car, like they’re waiting for something, but Carl doesn’t know what. I can’t do this without a blast, Mark says at last and reaches over Ste’s leg for the glove compartment. Inside there’s a package wrapped in brown paper and a film canister filled with coke. Mark takes a big snort then gives it to Ste, then Deano and Knoxer have some. But Knoxer gives it back to Ste without Carl or Barry having any. He doesn’t look at them, he acts like for a minute he’s forgotten they’re there. Okay, Mark says. He gets out of the car and goes to the intercom. Carl can’t hear what he says. He gets back in the car. They don’t talk, coke frazzles electric through the air. The gates swing open. Mark drives through. The gates close again behind them. He pulls the car up outside a little house that doesn’t look like there’s anyone in it. The others all get out, someone opens the boot. There are no lights, the air has gone dark blue and everyone has turned into shadows. This is fucking weird. A second ago, just on the other side of that wall, they were in the city. Now it’s like they’re in the country. Come on, Mark says with the package in his hand and he disappears instantly into the dark like he’s fallen down a hole.

The ground sinks under Carl’s feet. They’re in a bog or something. He has to hurry not to lose the others, he can’t see his own hand in front of his face and something is there, something is moving, thudding towards them, Deano reaches into the sports bag –

Horses. They come close enough so he can see the outlines of their pointy ears. Then they stop, and wait there, breath snuffing down their noses. They watch them go past, like they know something. They know who’s waiting for Carl.

Suddenly it’s freezing cold. The others are under the trees, there is the sound of rushing water. Their faces appear as he gets closer like ghosts in a graveyard. Do they know too? A slimy log stretches across a stream. Deano is smiling. Ladies first, he says. Carl goes over the log on his hands and knees.

Where is this cunt? he hears Knoxer say.

He said he’d light a fire for us, Mark says.

They’re talking about the Druid, Carl! They don’t know about Dead Boy, they’re not bringing you to him!

Now they’re in a forest, branches keep springing back into Carl’s face.

But what if Dead Boy is inside their heads too, pushing their thoughts with his see-through hands? What if none of this is even real? Maybe Carl is in a nightmare, maybe he smoked loads of hash and is sleeping. Wake up, Carl! Wake up wake up!

But then, like a spark from a lighter, he sees a tiny orange flame somewhere in the dark. Look! he shouts. Not waiting for the others he stumbles towards it, ignoring the branches in his face and the brambles that drag at his ankles, until the woods open into a field, and the spark turns into a bonfire.

Two men are standing in front of the fire. One has long hair and a beard that tangles down his chest. He’s wearing a cloak with suns and moons on it, and he’s leaning on the handle of a huge sword. The other man is short, cross-eyed, a bit mental-looking, he has one hand tucked inside his leather jacket.

I went out to the hazel wood, the tall man with the beard says, because a fire was in my head…

All right? Mark and the others arrive at the bonfire.

Never better, the man says. I see you’ve brought some friends along? He tips his head at Carl and Barry.

They’re just two young lads have been helping us out, Mark says. They wanted to come along.

Why not, why not, the Druid nods along. The more the merrier. Do come warm yourselves. He waves his hand and they step towards the fire. And then there is a flash, a flash of air, not the kind you can see. Now the Druid’s sword is stretched out with the point pressed into Deano’s throat.

For a moment nobody moves, like the whole world is balanced on the tip of the sword. Then the cross-eyed man leans in and whips the sports bag out of Deano’s hand.

We’ll take care of this for now, the Druid says. The cross-eyed man pulls the shotgun out of the bag, splits it open over his knee and rattles out the shells. The Druid lowers the sword. Deano sags like he’s deflating. Now friends, the Druid says. Business before pleasure. Let us adjourn to my office.

He turns and walks up the hill. They follow after him with the cross-eyed man behind. No one has said a word since the Druid swung his sword. Fear crackles in the clouds, in the long grass, the lights of the city rise up around like they have come to watch something happen. And now a shape appears at the top of the hill, a rocky black shape that stares out like a skull.

Which of you scholars can tell me what this is? the Druid says cheerfully.

None of them says anything and then Barry says in a voice like he’s hypnotized, A dolmen.

Very good. The Druid is pleased. One of the oldest forms of burial chamber. Also known as a Portal Tomb, as it is a doorway to the land of death. Note the distinctive tripartite structure, for the three aspects of the Goddess. He looks from one face to the next. In ancient times it is here that offerings were left for the unseen ones, he says.

Nothing happens for a moment. Then Mark jerks to life. He takes the package from under his belt and holds it out to the Druid. But the cross-eyed man grabs it instead. He rips open the paper and counts the money, muttering. The Druid leans on his sword and watches him with a little smile, like someone watching children playing. When he is finished the cross-eyed man lifts his head. He nods to the Druid. The Druid walks up to the dolmen and stretches his arm into the dark between the ground-rocks and the slab lying across them. His hand comes out holding a bag. He throws it to Mark. Mark opens it. Inside are smaller bags of white powder, other bags of pills, a brick of hash in clingfilm, it’s just like on TV. All to your satisfaction? the Druid says.

Yeah, brilliant, Mark says. Thanks very much. He looks at Knoxer, at Ste. Ste jerks his head in the direction of the car. Well, Mark says.

The Druid has his head tilted back, looking up at the sky. But you’re not leaving already? he says.

Let’s go let’s go let’s go, Carl is thinking, they are all thinking, Mark too but he doesn’t know what to do.

Come, the Druid says. It is so rare that we see our friends. Let us sit by the fire.

At the bottom of the hill the bonfire has burned low. The cross-eyed man picks up a jerry-can and pours petrol on it. Flames jump out, the Druid laughs. Sit, sit, he says, laughing. They sit in a ring around it like children. Ste is trying to make Mark look at him but he won’t. The Druid takes a pipe from his cloak and lights it and passes it around. In the firelight you can see he is not that old, he is less old than Carl’s dad.

Once this whole country was a stronghold of the Goddess, he says. Magical sites lie all around here. The modern jackals do not see it, of course, they’d concrete over this very hill if you gave them half a chance. But to anyone with ears… He pulls his shoulders in. The sword lies on the ground beside him, pointing into the fire like a gold tongue drinking. You can hear them, he hisses. The dead.

Carl gets the pipe. The smoke tastes weird, maybe it’s because they’re out here in the fields and trees. He is trying not to hear the dead, he is trying not to think of the black space between the rocks of the dolmen where the Druid put his hand.

Hence my little enterprise, the Druid says. I was chosen by the Goddess to protect this hill from the defilers.

So how old would you say it is then? Mark says, because the Druid is staring at him. Like, the dolmen?

The Druid goes quiet like he’s thinking back to when he built it. Perhaps… three thousand years?

Beside Carl, Deano bursts into giggles. He tries to stop but they just get worse. He laughs and laughs, high hyena yelps, till he’s on his side. Then when he can speak he says, Sorry… just reminded me of this cunt… wantin to ride a fuckin skeleton… He explodes into giggles again.

The Druid stares at Deano without smiling. It’s just a game we were playing on the way up here, Mark explains. If you could pick one woman, you know, to be with. Ste picked Helen of Troy.

Helen of fuckin Troy… gasps Deano. The dozy prick.

Ste looks even more pissed off, like he’s just about keeping himself from saying something.

The Druid just stares. Helen of Troy, he says.

Barry hands Carl the pipe again. His eyes are like the black skies of a lost place. But above his head the stars are like millions of eyes. Carl pretends he doesn’t feel them watching, he looks into the fire instead. Q. But in the fire there are hands reaching up trying to get out!!!! A. Don’t look in the fire either!!!! He sucks on the pipe, trying to build up the wall of fog that hides him from the dead! But this time the smoke instead of hiding him is leading him deeper in!

Helen who was Helle, the Druid says, was none other than Persephone, the Goddess of Death and Resurrection. It is she this whole land belonged to, it is her Door atop this hill.

Ste lets out a sigh, looks at his watch.

In Erin of old she was Brigit, the exalted one, the fiery arrow. In Wales she was the Ninefold Muse Ceridwen. She is Ashtaroth, Venus, Hecate, and a thousand others. She is the Goddess who underlies all things, the supreme object of desire whom no man may resist and no man may possess without being destroyed, who ruled us all before her throne was stolen from her.

And suddenly Carl knows why Dead Boy brought him here. He is going to take Carl back with him, through the Door! He wants to scream, he wants to get up and run. But there is a spell on him making him weigh a million tons. It’s the hill, already pulling him into it, it’s the hands in the fire holding him down. Soon he will hear the Door open, then the shadows will come!

Stolen by the Church, the Druid says, by little priests in cells, scribbling out their Bibles, loving only gold and power! Thieves and paedophiles, who presided over a perversion! But she will be avenged! She will burn them all in her holy fire!

Ste jumps to his feet. I’m freezin me hole off listenin to this shite! he shouts. See youse in the car! He turns to go back down the hill – but now the little man gets up too, he puts his hand in his jacket –

Then Barry slumps forward. After a moment, gently but swiftly, the tips of his hair catch on the bonfire and light into little flames, like birthday candles. He lets out a loud snore. Everybody starts laughing, even Ste, even the little cross-eyed man.

‘I think someone’s had his fill,’ the Druid says.

‘Can’t say I fuckin blame him,’ Deano says. ‘This weed is fuckin lethal.’

‘It’s not weed, lad.’ The Druid laughs a big chesty laugh. ‘It’s heroin.’ He laughs some more, and they all do too, laughing and laughing, everyone is laughing!

But Carl feels so, so sad.

And then the screaming starts.