Mosi's War Page 4

  It was Bliss who came between them. ‘See, you, Hakim, you’re always picking fights.’ She tugged at Mosi’s sleeve. ‘Come on, Mosi.’

  ‘Yes, go with your girlfriend. You’re safe now.’ Hakim spat on the ground. ‘But this isn’t finished, Mosi. I’ll see you later. That’s a promise.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him, Mosi,’ Bliss said softly. ‘I think it’s really cool the way you keep out of trouble. I don’t think you’re a coward.’ She left him at the classroom door with a reassuring smile, then she went over to her friends.

  But there was to be no peace for Mosi.

  ‘Och, is that not nice? Bliss looked after you.’ It was Cody and his friends making their way towards him down the corridor. Mosi took a deep breath. Cody looked angry too, as if Mosi had done something to him.

  ‘Your lot caused a riot last night. Do you hear me? A riot! We’re fed up wi’ the whole lot of you.’

  His mates gathered round Mosi. Cody sprang at him, grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the wall. ‘I want you to say it’s all your fault. Right. Say it!’

  Mosi hesitated for a moment. ‘It’s all your fault,’ he said, his voice flat. Cody’s eyes flamed.

  ‘Ya wee . . .’

  A voice came behind him.

  ‘Leave him be. He’s not one of us.’ It was Hakim, and his friends rallied round him too. He nodded at Mosi. ‘He could never be one of us. If you want a fight, Cody. Here we are.’

  Cody threw Mosi aside. He was forgotten. He stepped towards Hakim, one boy as tall as the other. ‘Any time, Hakim.’

  Chapter 13

  With a wild howl, Hakim rushed towards Cody. Cody was ready for him, moving towards Hakim just as fast. They locked together like stags, and with equally wild howls the other boys jumped into the fight.

  Patrick had just come into the corridor when it started. Glad he’d missed the beginning because he knew Cody would have expected him to back him up. Would he still expect him to jump in, join in the fight? Patrick stood still as a statue. Watching, because any second now teachers would come rushing down the corridor, alerted by the yells. They’d all be in deep trouble. For once, he wanted to keep well out of it. He saw Mosi turn his back and walk away. Everyone else was glued to the spot, could look at nothing else but the fight. But not Mosi. It was as if the fight wasn’t even taking place.

  How could he do that?

  There was a sudden crash of doors bursting open throughout the corridors. Teachers appeared, running, shouting. The caretaker too was bounding towards them. Another teacher came rushing in through the entrance, sending the door bouncing back on its hinges. They were all heading towards the fighting boys. Patrick shuddered when he saw a punch meant for Hakim land on the teacher. Cody leapt back, his eyes wide. That was a punch too far. All of the boys fell back. Mr Gillespie grabbed Hakim by the collar. The headmaster was a big man, powerful, he almost lifted Hakim from the ground.

  But Mr Gillespie didn’t forget Cody either. With one quick movement he had Cody by the arm too.

  ‘It was him started it,’ Cody shouted.

  Hakim began shouting in his own language. Hakim always fell back on his own language when things went wrong. Cody was shouting just as loudly.

  ‘Shut up, both of you!’ Mr Gillespie’s voice thundered. He was lifting them almost off their feet, pulling them along towards his office. Still they both shouted and yelled, blaming each other.

  Patrick felt good. He was glad he wasn’t involved. It made such a pleasant change not to be included among the troublemakers. His eyes searched out Mosi. He stood as far away as possible from any trouble. Was he feeling the same way, he wondered. But Mosi was never in trouble. He made sure of it. Even though he was reviled by both sides, he didn’t seem to care.

  Mosi was a strange one. No doubt about that. He’d love to know what was going on in his head.

  Mosi was thinking that if he could have made himself invisible he would have. There were people in his native land who believed it possible. That magic could be summoned and a man could disappear. If only he had that power. But he had no such power. He had no magic to make him invisible. So all he could do, all he had ever done, was to step back, and keep his head down. Make himself as invisible as humanly possible. He knew all sides hated him. He did not care.

  He saw Patrick watching him. He too had kept out of trouble this time. Had he thought no one had noticed? But Mosi had seen him stepping into the corridor, seeing Hakim and Cody locked together. Patrick could have dropped his bag and joined in, could have leapt into the fight. But Patrick didn’t. He had held back, and stepped away. Just as Mosi always did.

  Bet he was glad he had, Mosi was thinking.

  Chapter 14

  Mr Gillespie wasted no time in gathering the whole school together, his voice thundering round the assembly hall.

  ‘I do not care what is going on outside the gates of this school, but in here, we will be a haven of peace, diplomacy and tolerance. There will be no fights. The parents of the boys involved in the fracas this morning will be informed of what has gone on here. But if there is one more . . .’ His voice became a roar. ‘One more bit of trouble, or bad feeling, fighting, or arguments, I will take this even further.’

  ‘Take no prisoners, Gillespie,’ Patrick whispered to anyone he thought would listen.

  They were all blaming each other for the things that were going on here. The locals blamed the asylum seekers, and the asylum seekers thought the locals were the cause of it all. Things were only going to get worse and worse.

  Patrick hadn’t had a single moment to tell anybody about what his granny had told him and he was itching to talk about it.

  Finally, he got his chance. He held Cody back as they walked into class after the assembly. ‘Did your dad ever tell you about a Glasgow vampire?’

  ‘A . . . what?’

  Patrick said softly, ‘A vampire . . . years ago, there was a vampire, right here in Glasgow. My granny told me.’

  He decided not to tell him his granny didn’t believe it any more.

  Bliss had heard every word. She came towards them, her arm linked in Ameira’s. ‘My dad told me about that. It happened in 1954, the Gorbals Vampire they called it,’ she said. And much to Patrick’s annoyance, she started to tell Cody the whole story. Not half as well as he would have done. A crowd was gathering around them now. Most of them had never heard the story.

  ‘Anyway,’ Cody said. ‘What has this got to do with anything?’

  ‘Don’t you see . . . the dead cat, the blood on the walls.’ Patrick’s eyes fell on Hakim listening intently at the back. ‘Maybe it’s the vampire. Back again. My granny says they all thought he would come back. For revenge.’

  ‘Oh, come on, you don’t really believe in all that stuff? My dad said it was just a rumour that got out of hand,’ Bliss said.

  ‘Yeah, but a lot of strange things have been happening here lately, Bliss,’ Cody reminded her. Patrick could see the idea was beginning to intrigue him.

  He didn’t want to lose him now. ‘My granny says it all started back then when two boys were kidnapped . . .’ Naturally, Patrick didn’t tell anyone that there had been no proof of that. ‘And people have disappeared again. That man that died, Hassan, his brother went missing.’

  ‘He ran away because he was being sent back . . .’ Bliss insisted.

  ‘Did he? Does anybody know that for sure? One minute he was here, and then he was gone.’

  There was a long silence.

  ‘That’s the stupidest story I have ever heard.’ Hakim pushed his way to the front.

  Cody stood against him. ‘Don’t they have vampires in your country?’

  ‘Of course we do, better vampires than you have. In our country, the vampires eat children.’

  Cody laughed. ‘You’d give them indigestion, Hakim.’

  ‘And you would poison them.’

  ‘But, that happened here as well,’ my granny said. Patrick was bursting at the seams
with the story. ‘The two boys that were kidnapped,’ he looked around. Made sure he had their complete attention before he added, ‘They got eaten.’

  Chapter 15

  By mid-morning, the story of the vampire had zoomed round the school. Whispers in the corridors, chattering groups in classrooms. Going from one to another, the stories growing more bizarre and gruesome with each telling. Some of the older pupils had heard about the vampire from their grandparents, but had forgotten it long ago. Now it came back and took hold. The blood, the hanged cat in the underpass, the missing man; maybe this was the explanation – a supernatural explanation. Not a human one at all.

  Mosi heard the whispers but hardly listened. The whispers weren’t shared with him anyway. He walked home, as he always did, alone. He could see a crowd of boys turning to watch him. He took another route, avoiding them. Mosi knew how to hide, ducking behind some buildings till it was safe to move on.

  All the way home, Mosi kept close to the walls, an almost invisible figure. But not invisible enough. He had to come out into the open to cross the concourse to get into his own block.

  And as he did, Hakim stepped from the shadows. ‘Ah, there you are. I told you I would see you later,’ he said. He had been waiting just for Mosi. Hakim moved in front of him. ‘You make me ashamed.’

  Mosi had no words to say to that. He knew even an apology would only anger Hakim more.

  ‘You make us all ashamed.’

  Out of the shadowy corners of the tower block, more of Hakim’s gang appeared. They were all taller than Mosi. They seemed to fill the granite sky with their shadows.

  Mosi took a deep breath. ‘Please, let me pass.’

  Hakim snorted a laugh. ‘Please, let me pass.’ He mimicked Mosi’s voice. ‘If you can get past us, you can go home, coward.’

  He took a step closer to Mosi. Hakim had no intention of just letting him pass. Mosi had learned long ago that to run from trouble was a wiser option than to stay and fight. Especially when the odds were against you.

  Mosi ran.

  His sudden speed took them by surprise. He darted under one of the boy’s arms, leapt away from a hand ready to grab him, and he was off.

  ‘After him!’ Hakim yelled.

  Mosi raced across the concourse, through the abandoned children’s park. He glanced behind him. They were all after him. He set the swings in motion as he passed, flinging one high, then another, their rusty squeak filling the silence, never once breaking his speed. He leapt the fence out of the playground and raced for the next tower block. He knew once he was round there, and out of their sight he could find a way back to his own block.

  And then he saw Cody and his crowd hanging round the corner shop. He had to avoid them. One gang after him was enough.

  Mosi thought of this estate as a jungle. It was a jungle for him, with danger behind every bush, in every clearing. He ran into the entrance of the next tower block. These blocks were all built to be the same, identical in every detail. He knew he could run past the lifts, up the stairs and find the back exit, and then run into the open again.

  A couple of boys were sitting on the stairs, smoking. One of them tried to grab him as he ran past. ‘What’s the hurry, wee man?’ The boy’s voice was a growl. Mosi pulled away from his grip, kept on running.

  He could hear the yells in the distance behind him. Hear the shouts. ‘Where did he go? Where is he?’

  Hakim wouldn’t give up. He never had any intention of just letting him go home. Mosi running from him would only make him more determined to catch him. At the boarded-up convenience store, Mosi stopped for a second, pulling in deep breaths. He could hear the thunder of pounding feet coming closer. Cutting him off from the route back to his own flats.

  He thought quickly. He would have to go further than he had ever gone. Mosi took the same route to school every day. The same road there, the same road back. A weekly visit with his mother to the shopping centre on the other side of the dual carriageway was the only deviation he ever made. He had no interest in exploring. But he had studied the estate from his tenth-floor window. He knew if he could sweep round the back of the estate and race through the underpass to the other side of the dual carriageway he could escape them. From there he would cross back again, go through the old cemetery and leap the wall into the estate. He would end up behind Hakim and the rest before they had even come out of the underpass. Mosi almost smiled at the thought of it. While Hakim and his gang were running on, searching for him, he would be heading for home. Mosi threw a glance behind him before he took off again. Let them come after me, he was thinking. I can run like a cheetah.

  As he stood with Cody and the others, Patrick had caught a glimpse of Mosi in the distance. He had never seen anyone run so fast. A flash of a boy, gone in an instant. He almost pointed him out but stopped himself just in time. Cody hadn’t seen Mosi. Too busy texting some of his friends about the vampire story. Patrick was glad of that. If he did see him, chances were that Cody would want to join in the chase. So Patrick said nothing. Mosi was only there for a second anyway, a blur of movement and then he disappeared silently into one of the other high-rises.

  Then he saw Hakim and his friends, after Mosi.

  He might have felt sorry for Mosi, wanted to help him. But why should he? Mosi had never done anything for him. Anyway, Mosi was safe. Running like that? He could easily get away from Hakim.

  He didn’t need any help.

  At least, that’s what Patrick thought.

  Chapter 16

  Mosi kept running. He knew where he was going now. After he’d gone through the underpass, he could double back and head for home.

  But why was Hakim always after him? Mosi was always alone, maybe that was why. Or perhaps because he would not join his gang. Yes, Mosi was easy to pick on. But not easy to catch.

  Mosi leapt down a flight of steps leading to the path, slipped on some wet leaves. He took a moment to steady himself. He was sure Hakim would never think he would choose to go into the underpass. It was pitch-black in there. The lights were all broken. Lights never lasted in the underpass, the bulbs stoned minutes after they had been replaced. He took a breath, and began to run again.

  He was only one step into the darkness of the underpass when he saw the group of figures. They were huddled together. Mosi stopped dead. It was clear from the menacing way they were standing that something was happening here.

  There were four of them, young men, but much older than Mosi. He could hear the threatening growl in their voices. There was another figure crouched against the wall, hands clutched around his head as if he was trying to protect it. Mosi saw the flash of steel. One of those boys had a knife, he was lifting it high.

  In almost the same second, Mosi saw that it wasn’t a knife at all. It was a machete. The boy was swinging it above his head. His ugly laugh echoed in the underpass.

  Mosi couldn’t help it, his first instinct was to run. Yet someone needed help. Someone was in danger. The boy holding the machete moved and Mosi saw his face and recognised him. Grady McManus, one of the worst troublemakers on the estate, who spent most of his time in custody.

  Mosi could see a black shadow huddled against the wall, bent over, covering his head, the very image of fear.

  Could Mosi help him? Mosi would never know, because in the same second that Grady dragged the man he was threatening into what little light there was, Mosi saw that man’s face.

  The man was looking up with huge eyes at McManus. And at the sight of that face and those eyes, Mosi was no longer among the grey tenements of Glasgow. He was back in his own land. He could almost feel the sun’s heat against his face. Nothing else existed but the memory that came back to him like a scene from a film. He was watching this same man striding across the land, tall as a tree. He was in his uniform, medals glittering on his chest, sweat staining his shirt, a machete glinting in his hand. He crossed to a boy, a terrified boy, kneeling on the ground, his hands tied behind him. The boy was sobbing in terror. �
�No, no, no . . . not me, not me,’ he heard the boy cry. And Mosi had begun sobbing silently too. Trying not to watch, but Mosi was forced to watch, another man’s hand forced his face up, so he was made to see. See what was to be done to that boy. ‘I am Papa Blood,’ the man in the uniform was saying, his voice cold as a grave. ‘And this is what happens to those who disobey me.’

  Mosi pressed himself against the wall of the underpass and bit against his knuckles. He pushed the memory away. He could not, would not remember that moment. It was too terrifying to remember.

  And, now, this man, Papa Blood, was here. Crouching on the ground. Only a few steps from Mosi.

  And at that moment he knew that it wasn’t the man who was in danger. It was Grady McManus and his friends. It was all of them.

  Chapter 17

  Hakim bounded into the underpass. He almost knocked Mosi off his feet. But Hakim looked beyond him. Took in what was happening, saw only an old man in danger.

  ‘Leave him be!’ he yelled. He pushed Mosi aside, began running towards Grady. That was the moment when the man cried out. Mosi heard his voice. Pleading for help. ‘Help me, please . . .’

  The voice sent a shard of ice down his spine. Because it was a voice he knew well, the voice of Papa Blood. Though he had never heard him plead before. Others had pleaded with him, and he had shown them no mercy.

  Hakim’s gang ran past Mosi; he was forgotten for the moment. Grady was outnumbered. Already his mates were running out of the underpass. Even with his machete Grady was not willing to stand alone. He threw the big man from him, began running backwards, shouting out to Hakim, taking in his face, remembering it. ‘You’re gonny be sorry for this,’ he shouted, and then he and his mates were gone.

  The man stumbled against the wall of the underpass. ‘Thank you . . .’ That voice was a murmur. In a moment he would recover. He would stand, he would look across at Mosi and . . .