The Circle of Fire, page 2
part #1 of The Circle Series
If I knew the secret of how he maintained himself I could retire as a Personal Trainer and sell the elixir of youth!
We had grown to be more than simply Uncle and Nephew over the years. When he first moved to live with us he hadn’t really tried to be my Dad, instead trying to be an advisor to me. He was more about encouragement and nudging me in the right direction than ruling with an iron fist. As I had grown up he had taken me to the bar for my first drink, he’d given me advice on what path to take with work and he’d filled me in on the facts of life. He let me explore possibilities and was next to me regardless of the results. All things considered, I had had a great relationship with my Uncle, but this only served to highlight the differences in my Uncle’s relationship with my brother. I had spoken to Uncle David about it, asked about the reasons for the breakdown between them, but I didn’t get any real answers. “He needed to grow up but didn’t want to, He wouldn’t listen to me, He was unwilling to stand up for his responsibilities.” seemed to be the central flavour of why, but that was always as far as the conversation went and he was always fast to change the subject to something different.
As the years rolled on and we got closer, I was always aware of the hole in my family. Despite my Uncle being more like a friend, his opinions of Steve had always made me aware that there was something missing and it was always in the back of my mind that I was losing out. This in turn gave me a frustration when it came to family. Why had Steve really left? Why didn’t my Uncle tell me the whole story? I didn’t ever have the full picture and I felt a bubbling anger about it.
I drained the drink without really paying attention to it or anything else that was going on around me, but found that I had a refill in front of me without having to ask for it. She was good at what she was doing.
Thinking about just how good she could be I got a nudge in the arm from Big Al who had been collecting his drink. Winking conspiratorially, he walked back to his seat giggling to himself. I really should try to make sure I wasn’t just the hound of the group.
The excellent service did mean that I was able to remain in my mind rather than being forced to interact with the real world. The trouble with that was it meant I had nothing else to get in the way of going over the worst details of what had happened over the last few weeks. All of the mundane concerns of the day to day fell away as my mind meandered. Stephanie and her obsession with me. The other three ladies. My car not sounding that healthy as I drove through London. All of these thoughts fell away as my mind danced through the details and I was left with the final truth.
The world was now changed.
I was sat in my local having my usual drink, surrounded by the same people, the same sights, sounds and smells yet everything felt different. Up until very recently, all of my focus and energy had been aimed at preparing for the opening match of the Six Nations rugby tournament and watching Wales play against England in Cardiff. That match had been all I could really focus my attention on and the fever for it had been building for weeks, but now, it really didn’t seem to matter.
Coming back from a loved one’s funeral is something that makes the world seem wrong. You see where they fit into the world on a day to day basis but they aren’t there. When you think about events gone by and laugh, you catch yourself and feel guilty about even thinking about anything good. All those great memories are now to be put away out of respect. I was sat at the bar having my first drink in my local since my Uncle had been killed. A violent attack, a mugging gone wrong. He and I would have spent hours here talking about every aspect of the international match but now I had been left with a hole that nothing would be able to repair. The injustice of the situation had seemed to come to life and crawl into my head. It had been gnawing at me since I had been told what had happened and seemed to have stoked the fire in my temper. I was always angry and regularly found myself drifting through scenarios and ideas of what I would do to the person who had killed my Uncle if I ever got my hands on them. The funeral had helped take the edge off my morbid thoughts but they were always there, just scratching at the surface.
The funeral had taken place in West Wales in, what seemed to be, the smallest chapel in the most remote village in the whole of the country. There had seemed to only be enough space for around twenty people in the chapel but it had been full with quite a crowd outside as well. Who knew my Uncle knew so many people?
As I sat there contemplating the time I had spent in Wales mourning my family, the familiarity of the bar, the void of the empty stool next to me at the bar, I heard the door to the bar open and the new girl quickly hurried toward the new customer.
The new patron asked quietly for a bottle of beer and settled down on the stool next to me. The void seemed to get filled in a little.
“It sounded urgent.” came a deep, familiar voice.
I finished my drink and turned to my right. “It is.” and then almost as an afterthought, “How you been Steve?”
2
Steve and I looked slowly at each other, each of us taking in the view of the other and feeling the burn of a myriad of different emotions. It had been almost twenty years since we had last seen each other but there was no way of us missing each other in a crowd. Apart from the extra years that Steve had on me, we looked almost like twins, both over six feet tall and well-muscled (like I said – good genes) and with the right mix of carefree ruffle and ordered style to our dark brown hair. We would never have been described as the best looking guys in the world but I like to think we scored a decent step above average, but I spend my life flirting with desperate housewives so I’m not too sure if my view point is that accurate. Steve did look like he had been training pretty hard though. He was noticeably bigger than me but didn’t look comfortable in his own skin. He was carrying himself like someone who didn’t like the spotlight of people’s gazes which his appearance was sure to bring. He was wearing a dark grey suit, a white shirt but no tie. If he had been aiming for the non-descript, blend into the background look, then he really missed. Everyone in the room had, at the very least, glanced him up and down. Probably didn’t help that he was effectively walking into enemy territory by coming in here. This was Uncle David’s refuge from the world and everyone in here must have been aware of the fact that the two of them hadn’t got on.
“I’m doing okay, little brother. Adventures in far off lands, intrigue and danger!” Steve offered as a way of filling in almost two decades of experience as quickly as he could without actually saying anything. In other words - living life, now get to the reason I’m here.
“So what is it that I get messages from at least five different sources that you need to see me immediately back home and that it can’t wait or be put off?”
“You’re a difficult man to reach” I responded, aiming to include a little of my own discomfort into the sentence, but I think he missed the tone.
“You have been leaving messages with people I have worked with, roomed with, hell even one guy I met in bar once, telling me I’m needed at home for something earth shattering. Now tell me what’s going on. I have places I need to be.”
Good to see you too brother.
“Uncle David is dead. Stabbed during a mugging.” I said and beckoned over for two more drinks. The new girl nodded nervously and hurried off.
“Is that all?” Steve replied, slumping his shoulders forward as he leaned on the bar. “You could have left that message with any of the people you called and they would have passed the info on just as well as you telling me. Would have saved me money in plane tickets too.” He’d obviously been mulling over different scenarios in his mind as to why I wanted to see him and it looked like this wasn’t high on his list.
I could feel my anger rising as my old frustrations rose towards the surface but fought it back as best I could; I needed to talk to Steve not start a fight and watch him walk out of the door.
“Steve, he was family. I know you two didn’t see eye to eye about whatever it was that made you leave, but please don’t tell me that a relative being murdered really doesn’t matter to you.” The end of the sentence caught a glimpse of the anger I was trying to conceal.
Steve bowed his head slightly as the new drinks arrived and I was again greeted by an odd look from behind the bar. What the hell had everyone told her about me? As we both drank, for a moment there was silence.
“When is the funeral?” Steve started.
“It’s already happened, down in Wales. I didn’t think you’d want to be involved so I figured I’d let you know afterwards”
Steve looked at me with an expression that was part sadness, part annoyance and part anger. I wasn’t really sure which emotion would come out on top but again, I wasn’t looking for a fight.
Luckily most of the anger drained away. “Then what is it you need to see me about? Have we just inherited millions of pounds, millions of debts? Come on Anthony. It can’t simply be that our Uncle isn’t around anymore and you want a hug.”
I took a long slow drink, set the glass down on the bar and tried to settle myself for the story I was about to tell. The mocking tone and confrontational attitude that Steve had brought with him was making me feel that maybe my Uncle had been right about everything he had ever told me. I took a long breath, balled up my anger and frustration, and looked Steve squarely in the eyes and with a mock smile opened with “Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.”
“When I was told that he’d died I didn’t know what to do. How do you sort this stuff out? I was contacted by someone from his farm who offered his help – he saw the details on the news or something so gave me a call.”
“Why isn’t he buried round here? Answering the call of his ancestors?” said Steve without really caring.
“The arrangements were made according to his wishes, service in a specific chapel and then to be buried in a certain place by people he had named in his will. As it turned out I had very little to do with the whole affair –just turn up and watch my family shrink.” As soon as I had said it I realised that I was again pushing at Steve but it was a reflex – Steve had walked out of my life and David had stayed. As I looked across towards my brother I realised that we had a very long journey to take if we were going to enter into each other’s lives again. He looked back and I knew that he was thinking the same thing.
“The service was exactly as you would imagine, but was attended by more people than I expected. There were crowds outside of the chapel listening as best they could but they were all keen to pay their respects to the coffin before it left.” I described, slowly twisting my glass.
“Well so far you’re not really blowing up my skirt with deep and meaningful death bed confessions. He was a crazy old fart from the back of beyond. What was important enough to bring me here?” chided Steve but now with a slightly softer tone to his voice. Maybe he did care?
“Now this is where you come in, pal. After the service I was doing the usual hand shaking and thanking everyone for coming when, amongst the locals and farm hands, I was introduced to various different people who weren’t from Wales; some Chinese guys who looked like bodyguards round their boss who happened to be a little middle aged lady; a Russian woman (who I really wanted to get to know better); some Americans; and an Aussie. They all explained to me that our Uncle had been a great man and that he would be sorely missed. Well I got that from the Aussie and the Americans but the others didn’t speak a word of English so all I could manage was to stare at them nodding. The thing that got me most puzzled about the whole situation was that they referred to me as the only child and that when they had finished with David they would help me.”
“When I filled them in on your sorry tale the mood changed and the farm manager who had done all of the organising, Lloyd something, told me that you really need to pay your respects and that Uncle David’s will can only be completed to you, no-one else. No-one would tell me any specifics but they were all very insistent that you attend within two weeks and there was no room for negotiation. He spent the rest of the time in conversation with each of the overseas visitors, looking like he was getting torn a new one for the most part until they each left, and get this, bowing to me on the way out.”
“Uncle Dave was a Mason.” snorted Steve.
“What?”
“Secret messages passed between people, people who would never come into contact through any normal course of their life. Mason, or some other secret society. Maybe some of the things he used to tell me were part of some weird code. No wonder he thought they were so important. You didn’t happen to get any funny handshakes during the day?”
I stared at my brother realising that as I told the story back it did sound a little out there; at least the girl behind the bar wasn’t the only one to think I was odd. That said, I don’t like being made fun of.
“All you have to do is go down there and pay your respects and collect on his will. Maybe he felt bad that you two didn’t get along and he set something up as his way of saying sorry. In any case, one day, two at the most, and you can go back to whatever life you had going on before I interrupted. Just for two days, be my brother, do what needs to be done and then forget all about it.”
Steve finished his drink and stood up, stretching his lower back in the process. “It really was good to see you again Anthony, you look well. Maybe one day I’ll let you know why David and I didn’t get on but for your peace of mind, I’ll go and do my duty back in the home land. Jesus, February in Wales, I’m going to freeze out in a random field in the middle of nowhere, no doubt so our Uncle can have one last laugh at me. I hope you’re happy.” The venom in his voice was purely for show. With our Uncle gone he could risk coming back here to see me without the weight of their problems. Maybe that meant after almost twenty years I was going to get my brother back.
“I’ll let you know how it went when I get back. Speak to you soon.” fired back at me as Steve marched across the bar and pushed through the door.
I turned back to the bar and beckoned for another refill but the piercing shatter of glass burst into the quiet murmur of the room before I could get my order placed. That was quickly followed by the screams of the new girl – she really was having a bad day. The other people drinking around me were fast to start shouting and screaming. Glasses were dropped or knocked over and the sounds of smashing rang through the place from all areas. As I turned around to find out what had caused the damage I was confronted by the shattering of not only the glass doors to the bar, but the shattering of my world. I stared towards the source of the terrible sound and fought to focus through the melee of people running for the exit or crowding the doorway.
Propped on what was left of the door frame was the crumpled form of Steve. He had been hurled back through the door he had left less than a minute before but now he was broken and split. The glass had cut into him across the back of his neck and shoulders where he had hit the door but he had also been contorted into an utterly unnatural position. Almost every joint of his body now seemed to be pointing the wrong way. There were no engine sounds of any kind from outside but it looked as if he had been hit by a car doing over a hundred miles an hour. My instinct was to run to him, to give emergency aid, to do something that would keep him alive so we could carry on from where our conversation had finished, but, as I got closer to him. I realised that there was nothing I could do. Aside from the would be impact injuries there were also two huge slashes running from his left shoulder to his stomach which had opened my big brother up down to his rib cage and beyond. I checked for a pulse on his ruined throat, more out of reflex, and was glad to find none. To feel those injuries would have driven a person mad. There was no air being dragged into his lungs, there were no clouds of breath to indicate life despite the chill of the February night. His stillness had given him an almost model like quality, something from the set of a horror film. I looked up out of the door hoping to see the car that did this leaving the scene in a hurry, but was confronted by something very different.
Back from the entrance to the bar stood a man. He stood back away from the lights of the building, utterly enveloped by shadows but I could see his outline. It looked like he was wearing a long coat of some kind; I could see the shape of the material down by his legs but that was all. I stepped toward him, thinking he must have seen something to explain this horror; he would be able to help. He darted away with a movement so fast and fluid that I lost him in the gloom. The one fact I was very sure of was that, as he left, he was laughing. The noise didn’t sound like anything I had heard before but I could recognise it as a laugh none the less. As I rounded the corner of the building I was still aiming for the sound, I couldn’t see a thing through the shadows of the surrounding buildings and low street light but that noise drew me on. I got to the end of the alleyway next to the bar which opened out into the large rear delivery area of the buildings adjacent to the one I had just rushed from, still following that sound. My heart was racing in my chest and I could feel rage building inside me as I slowed towards the centre of the empty loading bay. The laughter continued, but it also continued to move away from me. What I didn’t understand was why it was moving straight up.
3
I strained my neck looking up and around hoping to pinpoint where the sound was coming from, but the harder I tried to focus, the more elusive it became. Add to that the sound of my own heart now feeling as if it was beating not in my chest, but in my ears, I had no real hope of finding him.
I slowly swayed as I scanned the area around and above me but there was nothing. All I could hear was the low hum of road noise and the sound of incoming sirens.
