The Runners by Fiachra Sheridan Read Free Book Online Page B

He raised it in the air and smashed the passenger window of a Ford Cortina that had stopped at the lights. The lady driver started screaming. Willo grabbed her handbag from the seat. He ran at Bobby and Jay and threw the bag down onto the railway tracks. Willo sprinted off into the flats. Bobby and Jay looked down to see Git running off with the bag. The driver of the bus got off to console the woman.
    ‘What the hell was he doing?’ asked Bobby.
    ‘He’s a junkie.’
    ‘A what?’
    ‘A druggie. That’s why Anto said to stay away from them.’
    Jay placed the ball in the middle of the road, directly in front of the boarded-up window of the unknown house.
    ‘A pound says you can’t hit it.’
    ‘You’re on.’
    Jay took aim and just missed the metal window.
    ‘My turn.’
    Bobby took aim and hit it direct. Willo stuck his head out.
    ‘What the fuck are you doing?’
    ‘Having a bet to see if we could hit the window,’ answered Bobby.
    ‘Give me a shot at that.’
    Willo climbed out and Jay placed the ball for him in the middle of the road. Willo lined up to kick it. He pulled his leg back and just as he was about to kick it, Jay pushed the ball out of the way. Willo fell flat on his bum. Bobby and Jay started laughing. Angela was part of a small crowd who were looking on. Willo ran at her and screamed in her face.
    ‘What are you laughing at, nigger?’
    ‘Shut the fuck up,’ said Bobby.
    ‘Are you a nigger lover?’ Willo hit back.
    ‘Shut up you fucking junkie,’ said Bobby.
    ‘What did you say?’
    ‘You’re a druggie.’
    ‘Leg it,’ shouted Jay.
    The two of them sprinted off towards Anto’s house. Angela ran off crying. Willo climbed back into the unknown house.
    ‘I have someone I need you to drop off a video to later. I need to show you where it is first.’
    Anto walked with them to Sean MacDermott Street, past the swimming pool to a block of flats behind the church. More of the flats were boarded up than occupied.
    ‘Are you sure he has a video recorder? These flats are in bits,’ asked Bobby.
    ‘Of course he does.’
    They walked into the first block, up the stairwell, which was much darker than Ballybough. The church blocked any light getting in. The flat was right at the end of one of the landings. The door was brown. Anto knocked on the door five times, then a gap, then four times.
    ‘Anto, how are we doing, son?’
    Bobby knew Anto wasn’t his son. Some innercity people called everyone son, and didn’t know their singular from their plural. Bobby’s mam would correct him if he spoke like that.
    ‘Micka, these are my video delivery boys. Bobby and Jay.’
    ‘How are we doing, my sons?’
    Maybe he did know his plurals.
    ‘I’ll send them down in a while, and I’ll see you later.’
    ‘Nice one Anto, son, nice one. Tell them to do the five and four.’
    Bobby thought Micka looked like a bit of a mad thing. And so did Johnny for that matter.
    ‘Lads, this is my most precious video. It’s Joe Louis, the Brown Bomber, fighting James Braddock for the heavyweight title in 1937.’
    ‘They didn’t have televisions in 1937,’ joked Jay.
    ‘Now they can put all the old fights on video. Drop this down to Micka.’
    When they got there, three people were blocking the entrance to the stairwell. They all had jackets on, even though it was a warm summer day. One of them was Gringo. Bobby got a knot of fear in his stomach. They hadn’t seen him since Anto had nearly thrown him off the balcony.
    ‘All right, lads, what are you doing down here?’
    ‘Doing something for Anto,’ said Jay, knowing the mention of Anto’s name gave them protection.
    Jay remembered the knock and banged as hard as he could.
    ‘We have the video for you.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘It’s Anto’s most precious video. The Brown Bomber, Joe Louis,’ said Bobby.
    ‘I love the Brown Bomber. Come in for a minute.’
    The flat was much nicer than Johnny’s. There was a really big television, with videos in