Man of Ruin Read online

  Martin laughed. “Don’t worry, mate,” he said. “I’ll be alright.”

  I could tell the medics were wondering if it was my fault and, if so, how on earth that could be. Did I have the power to bring down trees? Well, as it happened, yes, I bloody well did. And it was not using any method one might expect.

  “Not sure if he didn’t hit his head when he fell and all,” I whispered guiltily to them as they stretchered him away.

  *****

  Thankfully, they didn’t put the sirens on in the ambulance.

  On the way, James called me on my mobile, though, which was most unpleasant.

  “Alright, Davey!” he shouted in that nerve-jangling way of his. “Heard what happened. What the bloody hell you been drinking? I’ve heard of fire piss, but this is something else, aye!”

  He laughed noisily to himself.

  “I wouldn’t believe everything Martin tells you,” I said, feeling mean. “He just had a tree fall on him, you know.”

  “Is he alright?” said James, suddenly getting overly serious in that equally irritating way of his.

  “He should be,” I said. “We’re in the ambulance now.”

  “Shit,” said James.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Martin was watching me with a smirk. One of the medics raised an eyebrow too.

  “Look,” I said to James, lowering my voice. “Let’s talk later, alright? We’re nearly at the hospital.”

  “Sure thing, Davey,” said James. “Take good care of him. We’ll visit later on. Also, I do remember last night.”

  He put the phone down.

  *****

  Even though a broken foot didn’t seem like an absolute emergency to me, we ended up in accident and emergency, a big room filled with seriously hurt and sick people. The medics put us in one of those little booths with green curtains you could pull all around for privacy if you wanted.

  “Wait here and just relax,” said one of the medics, leaving the curtains open. “The doctor will see you when he’s ready.”

  “Alright,” said Martin, trying to sound brave but in a pathetic sort of way.

  A nice blonde nurse with deep blue eyes and pinprick dimples in her cheeks came over.

  “Can I get you anything?” she said.

  “A glass of water would be nice,” said Martin meekly.

  “How about some morphine? Or whisky maybe?” I suggested. “Ease the pain.”

  “Oh yes,” said Martin. “Painkillers would be great.”

  “Alright, love,” said the nurse.

  She smiled at Martin and glared at me.

  We waited while she went to get those items.

  “Need to get your story straight, Martin,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” He looked genuinely confused, the idiot.

  “Christ, I’m beginning to think you did hit your head. We can’t go telling them I weed on the tree and it fell on you, can we?”

  Martin seemed lost in thought.

  “What do you think they’d say if you told them that?”

  “I don’t know,” said Martin.

  “Well, I’m guessing they might consider it a lie or, worse, fantasy. Imagine that, eh? God knows what they’ll do with you if they think you’ve gone bonkers.”

  “Shit,” said Martin, as if I’d said something earth-shattering and terrifying that he hadn’t considered. I knew I was being mean, but it was for his own good. Well, alright, my own good.

  “So what shall I tell them, Davey?” he said, this pathetic puppy dog look on his face.

  “I’m thinking you tell ’em a half-truth. It’ll be easier. Tell ’em we were going for a smoke in the woods. Smoking a spliff. Yeah. They’ll believe that.”

  “And what about the tree falling on me.”

  “Hmmm . . .” I sighed. “That is the tricky part. I guess we just keep it simple and say it fell on you.”

  Martin looked confused. “It did fall on me.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But how?”

  “Well you and me know what happened, don’t we? But doesn’t mean they have to.”

  “Okay . . .” he said, looking more confused every second. “But what do we tell them?”

  “Just the bare bones. Tell ’em it fell on you and you don’t know why.”

  “Er . . .” He frowned, looking up at the ceiling. “Do you think they’ll believe that?”

  “I’ll back you up,” I said. “Besides, look at it this way, mate. Do you actually understand how that tree fell on you? I mean, you saw what happened, and it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Me pissing some kind of crazy acid and the whole thing falling down. Sounds like bollocks, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah . . .” he said uncertainly.

  “So we might as well just leave out the details. The tree fell on you, and you don’t know how. No need to mention the part about the wee.”

  “Alright . . .” he said.

  “Good.”

  Then the pretty nurse brought the water and pills for Martin.

  Not sure what was in ’em, but he chilled right out after that.

  *****

  As I expected, the doctor took ages.

  Looking round the busy hall, I did have to admit there were plenty more deserving patients to see. People with bloodied foreheads or coughing their guts out or just looking pale as off-milk. Martin lay there with this sort of half-grin on his face, and I sat next to him on the little plastic chair they’d provided, bored as hell. I sorely wished I could relax. Should’ve brought my 3DS, played a few levels of Super Smash Bros or something. But I had nothing. Even my phone was low on juice.

  I tried not to think too much about my predicament, what I would do about this ridiculous little “problem” I inexplicably seemed to have acquired. “Affliction” was a much better word, I thought. The thing was, it wasn’t the kind of disorder you could easily brush under the table. Come rain or shine, a man always has to pee, doesn’t he?

  *****

  Soon I got thirsty.

  Naturally and without thinking, I popped over to the drinks machine, dropped in a couple of pound coins, and all of a sudden, there I was, downing a bottle of Tango. Just an everyday, ordinary thing for me to be doing. Then the thought hit me like a splash of cold orange over my face: what goes in must soon come out! I gagged on the bubbles, spitting onto the floor, causing a number of those sitting around to look at me in disgust.

  Ignoring them all, I sighed and held the bottle up to look at it. It was one of those half-litre bottles, and I’d nearly finished the whole thing. Stupid idiot that I was, I’d stood there enjoying it like one of those prats in the Coca-Cola adverts, all ready to do a massive “ahh” when I finished, and maybe a cheeky little burp. Shit, I thought, just ’cos of that, I’d need to piss again soon and I was in the middle of a bloody hospital. Was I seriously gonna wreck a toilet needed by the elderly and the infirm?

  Sod you, I thought, staring at the bottle. That’s right. I actually directed harsh words at a bottle, at least in my mind. Cursing myself, I chucked the unfinished bottle in the bin.

  I went back to Martin and sat next to him, biting my nails. I could feel the liquid churning in my stomach. Soon, it would make its way down to my bladder.

  I was refreshed, yes, but at what cost?

  *****

  “You alright, love?”

  I heard the sweet voice of that nurse and looked up from the white tiles of the floor which I’d been staring at hopelessly for some time, my fingers pushing into my temples, a rising sense of panic at the impending catastrophes about to befall me.

  “Oh yeah,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “I’m just worried about my mate here.”

  I glanced over at Martin, who had actually fallen asleep and looked rather peaceful.

  “He’ll be alright,” she said with a little laugh. “So what happened?”

  “A tree fell on him,” I blurted.

  “A tree?” she said, frowning. “How’d that happ
en?”

  “Wish I knew,” I said.

  She gave me a look of utter confusion.

  “Alright,” I reluctantly continued. “So there we were, just chatting, fetching the ball, you see. We always have a kick-around in the park on a Saturday morning. And suddenly, out of nowhere, this bloody great tree is falling on us. I got lucky. Good reflexes, I guess. But Martin here was floored by it. Poor bastard.”

  “Right . . .” she said, yawning and rolling her eyes at me. “Well, see you later. The doctor will be over in a minute.”

  “Cheers,” I said and went back to staring at the floor.

  I surmised that she’d been up all night doing nurse stuff, was tired as hell, had heard it all before and couldn’t be bothered. She knew all too well what I’d just told her was a load of old bollocks. Which of course it was.

  *****

  After a minute or so, the inevitable happened and I felt the push of my bladder.

  I stood up, far too suddenly. I had been wasting my time, sitting there and worrying, when what I actually needed to do was get as far away from this hospital as I possibly could!

  And of course, who should arrive at that precise moment but the doctor.

  He looked at me with evident distaste, a little wrinkle on his forehead, unfriendly eyes peering at me from behind his thick spectacles.

  “Martin?” he said, pulling up a pad and reading off the name.

  He looked down at my snoring friend and prodded him in the shoulders.

  Martin woke up with a start.

  “I’m Doctor Green,” he said slowly and too loudly, talking to him like he was a child. “Are you okay?”

  Martin yawned and nodded. He looked dozy as hell. The doctor leaned over him and pointed a light in his eyes. Then he put a hand on his chin and moved his head from left to right.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said rather forcefully, putting the little light back into a shirt pocket.

  “Er . . .” Martin looked from the doctor to me, obviously worried and confused.

  “Something about a tree?” prompted the doctor.

  All the while, my need for a piss was increasing. Yet I couldn’t leave Martin at a moment like this. This was indeed a pickle.

  “Yes,” said Martin, finally. “We were in the trees . . .” He trailed off. “In Hope Park . . .” He trailed off again.

  For some reason, Martin was being very, very crap. I wondered at what point I should step in.

  “And why were you in the trees in Hope Park?”

  Martin looked at me pensively. I realised also that the nurse was stood nearby, in earshot, glancing at us suspiciously.

  “We were smoking,” said Martin, his head drooping as if he was talking to the headmaster.

  “Smoking? But why did you—”

  “Smoking weed,” said Martin, his head lower now than I thought possible.

  “I see . . .” said the doctor, sounding both judgmental and unconvinced.

  From the corner of my eye I could see the nurse with her hands on her hips, looking accusingly at me.

  “And what happened?” said the doctor. “How did this injury occur?”

  “Well,” said Martin. “It was the tree.”

  The doctor was staring at him, waiting for more information, but for some stupid reason, Martin just left it at that. You need to give a bit more detail than that, you idiot! I screamed at him silently, all the while shifting my weight from foot to foot as the absolute need for a wee increased.

  “The tree?” said the doctor.

  Christ, I thought. It was like pulling hairs out of your backside. The doctor must have thought we were the biggest pair of nincompoops to ever grace his emergency room.

  Yet Martin was apparently dumbstruck. I could hold my tongue no more.

  “The tree fell on us,” I said.

  The doctor looked at me, raising an eyebrow.

  “We don’t know what happened exactly. It just sort of fell on us. I was lucky. Martin here . . . wasn’t.”

  “Are you alright?” said the doctor, looking at my shifting legs.

  “No,” I said. “I need the loo.”

  “Well why don’t you go then?” he said impatiently.

  “Alright . . .”

  I sighed. They had me now. I didn’t want to leave Martin, who I now realised had the mental strength of a paper napkin, but what choice did I have? I had to go.

  So I ferreted myself away.

  As I left, the nurse grabbed me by the arm.

  “Smoking weed is it now, aye?”

  “What?” I said.

  “Your friend’s been hit in the head. It’s obvious. I’m in training. I’ve seen it before. You lied about what happened.”

  She was practically digging her nails into my arm.

  “Get off!” I said, pulling away from her. “I need a piss!”

  “Arsehole!” I heard her say as I legged it down the hallway.

  “And the rest,” I muttered.

  *****

  I’ve never been in a hospital I liked, and this one was no different. To me, hospitals are just big mazes full of poor bastards. The sick and dying, overworked and underpaid nurses, doctors who think the world of themselves, plus all those silent staff who toil underneath it all: the admin, cooks and cleaners shovelling the proverbial (and sometimes the real) shit. I didn’t think I would ever be so pleased to leave a place as that hospital. The only problem was that I was in such a rush I couldn’t actually locate a way out.

  I walked up and down stairs, along stretching corridors with far too wordy medical terms written on doors, doing my best not to knock anyone over as I hurried. All the while, the need to pee increased as if someone had stuck their foot right down onto my bladder. My insides were going into overdrive, and I needed release!

  I passed a toilet. I considered the consequences of using it. I was not even on the ground floor, I knew, since the emergency room was a few floors up, where they had a special car park at the back for all the ambulances to arrive. I could cause serious, serious damage with such a wee. But take a moment to consider what it’s like to hold on to almost a litre of Tango in your bladder for what must have been over half an hour now, on a bastard hangover, and in a highly stressful situation. I’d already opened the floodgates back in the park, and as the saying goes, once you open the doors, there’s no closing them.

  I put one last burst of energy into finding the exit. The trouble was, there were plenty of signs pointing towards EXIT, only it never seemed to materialize. I ran past a tuck shop I had already run past before. Next, the same little room with plant pots and sofas. It was all just corridors and closed doors and not even a window in sight. I was lost, going in circles. I could feel the wee almost ready to seep right out of me.

  Sod it, I thought.

  A terrible way to make a decision, I know, but the truth is, by this point, the decision was out of my hands.

  So when I saw the toilet up ahead for the second time, I ran straight for it. I opened the door without even a furtive glance left and right to see who was nearby. It didn’t matter; whatever would be, would be. It would be shocking and it would be shit, but at least it would be . . . a relief.

  CHAPTER 4

  IT WAS A SINGLE CUBICLE with a string pull light and all kinds of helpful plastic handles around the seat for sick and disabled people to grab hold of. I pulled up the seat and prayed with that silliest of voices inside me that believes miracles can happen. I prayed that whatever was happening to me had happened, past tense, and that my wee would be normal now. Just normal, smelly, yellow pee.

  It wasn’t to be. The water fizzed and let off a wispy yellow smoke as soon as my still lime green urine made impact. I groaned and watched as it sheared down through the water and cut into the bowl beneath, cracking right there before my eyes. I kept pissing and my green wee continued its relentless journey down, cutting through anything that got in its way. The water from the toilet flooded out all over the floor, and the toilet it
self then crashed to the floor in pieces with a loud thud.

  I kept on peeing. I had to. Now I caught sight of the building’s innards below, the dusty stuff they pack between floors. My toxic wee simply melted and smoked it all away into nothing until I was looking down onto the room directly underneath, another toilet, thankfully empty at that moment.

  Finally and gladly finished, I stood back carefully, worrying the whole floor might cave under me if I wasn’t. There was banging at my door now too. I guess the noise of the crashing floorboards and the water seeping out everywhere had caught someone’s attention. I had to leave, one way or another. I washed my hands in the sink, feeling a strange sense of calm.

  The banging continued.

  “Hey!” someone shouted. “Are you okay?!”

  I looked at myself in the mirror and sighed.

  “What the hell?” I now heard someone shout from below, their voice carrying up through the messy hole I’d created.

  I glanced down to see someone looking up at me, a man dressed in black overalls and scowling at me with an unshaven, haggard face. One of the cleaners, I guessed, a poor sod who had a bit of a job on his hands.

  Now I really had to leave. I stepped back, my trainers dripping wet. I prepared myself. There was only one way I could get out of this intact.

  I took a deep breath, opened the door and ran straight through.

  *****

  There were several people stood in the hallway outside. As I expected, I caught them completely off guard with the suddenness and speed of my exit. I ran right through them, knocking into one as I did.

  “Oy!” someone shouted as I legged it down the corridor.

  I didn’t look back.

  Round the corner I passed the lifts again as I ran. This time I got lucky: one of them was opening at just that moment. A bunch of sad-looking people stepped out and I rushed in. Another oldish woman who had been waiting for it got in with me.

  “You alright, dear?” she said, sounding genuinely concerned.

  “I can’t find my way out,” I said. “And my bus leaves in five minutes . . .”

  As you can see, I had my wits about me. Not desperately needing to empty your bladder really does improve one’s state of mind.

  “Oh, I know,” she said. “This place can be very confusing. Just push for level 1B and you’ll be straight in the car park.”