We're Not Strangers Anymore

Chapter Thirty - An Unlikely Meeting

A steaming hot bag of chips could solve any problem; at least, that's what Charlie Broomer thought.
A few hours had passed since the disagreement with his rather anxious mother, and the sun was already behind the houses. As he walked through the dark and gloomy streets of Belgrave, dogs barking and couples shouting in the distance, he began to ponder recent events.
I shouldn't have shouted at Mum. That was wrong of me.
Charlie tossed a hot chip into the cold night's air and watched it silently plummet to the ground. He grinned as it hit the pavement.
Then again, she was right. I am being a little secretive, I suppose. I'm not ashamed of my girlfriend.. I'm ashamed of myself, in a way.
Another steaming chip was pulled from the white paper bag, eventually hitting the ground at a faster speed than the previous one.
Although.. it could've been justified. I mean, I am worried about tomorrow. About going to Jamie's house. Haven't even got a proper plan.
Once again he thought of Mr Manley, his hunched back crunching as he bent down to adjust the rug, just seconds before Charlie had entered their home. More shuddering.
Sometimes in life we run away from our problems, because nine times out of ten it seems an easier and more viable option than facing them.
After hours of mindless walking, feeling completely isolated from the rest of society, Charlie had ended up in the local business park. The park was a good place to gather your thoughts, especially after six o'clock, as it was always seemingly abandoned after this time. The workers had gone home by this point, leaving the business park as a sort of dog walking or general loitering haven.
Charlie walked over to a nearby bench, brushing the imaginary germs away carefully with his sleeve before sitting down.
Yeah, he thought to himself peacefully, if there was an ideal place in the world to sit and eat chips, this would be it.
As he looked around the empty business park, the feeling of a growing eeriness becoming quickly apparent, a small white car came into sight, penetrating his field of peripheral vision.
It's driver had clocked on to Charlie as soon as the vehicle had pulled round the corner. It began to slow down. The car pulled up alongside him, and for a split second Charlie felt scared.
The driver of the vehicle eventually rolled down the window, exhaling a harsh breathe of smoke into the already foggy air.
'You all right, kid?'
'Fine, thank you.' Charlie's voice was solemn, a deep and audible sense of fear intertwined within his tones.
'Whatcha doing out here alone, then?'
'Thinking,' Charlie said.
'Thinking?' the man repeated. 'What's a kid your age got to think about?'
Charlie did not reply. The man in the car frowned profusely, opened his door and stepped out.
'You smoke?' the man asked.
'Sometimes,' Charlie replied, his tone of voice not changing.
'Here then. Take a smoke.'
The man reached into his duffel coat pocket and pulled out a battered packet of cigarettes. He took two out for himself, chucking the remainder of the packet at Charlie.
'You make a habit of coming out here, all alone? No parents in the picture or somethin'?'
'My Mum's at home. I just wanted to get out of her hair. What about you, do you make a habit of talking to teenagers in empty business parks?'
The man ignored the returning question. 'And what about your dad?'
Charlie looked at the floor, remaining silent.
'I see,' he said. 'Well I've been doing this park's security for many years now, and I've seen some things, things you wouldn't believe. But I ain't ever seen a young boy eating chips here. All alone, that is.'
All alone.
Charlie turned to face him.
'What, so this is your job? Just driving around the park, looking for intruders?'
The man nodded. 'Yeah, but not just intruders. Looking for troublemakers too, not that you seem like one to me. All sounds pretty interesting, right? You ever thought about a career in security when you grow up?'
'Nah. Not really. Sounds boring to me.'
The man chuckled, scratching his bald head.
'A lot of people say that, my own family included. In a way though, I'm my own boss. No-one can tell me what to do, don't get any grief from anyone.'
'But you're not really your own boss though, are you? Someone's got to be paying you for this?'
The man shook his head.
'You're a smart kid. Reminds me of how I used to be, way back when.'
'And what happened?' Charlie asked, 'why aren't you like that anymore?'
The man turned to face him again, and this time he looked more serious. 'I got married. Worst thing I could've ever done for myself.'
Charlie thought about this for a second, only briefly, particularly wondering what Emily would look like in a white dress. He resumed eating his chips, which were now getting colder by the second.
'So is everything alright at home, kid?'
Charlie shovelled and swallowed a mouthful of lukewarm chips, which he now thought tasted like raw mashed potatoes.
'Yeah, everything's perfect. That's why I'm sat in an empty business park on a Thursday night, eating cold chips and talking to a stranger.'
The man held out a pale and mostly colourless hand, but Charlie didn't shake it.
'I'm Steven, okay? We're not strangers anymore.'
After several cold seconds had passed, Charlie threw away his stubbornness and held out a greasy hand, and much to his surprise, Steven took it. 'I'm Charlie.'
'Good to meet you, Charlie. Charlie what?'
'Charlie, sir,' he answered, switching to a more polite manner.
'No, silly,' the man laughed, 'I mean what's your surname.'
'Oh, Charlie Broomer, yeah.'
'So, Charlie Broomer, what's a little guy like you doing out this late in this particular neck of the woods?'
'Like I said, thought gathering. And I'm not little. I'm fourteen.'
Charlie's tone didn't change once; being wary of strangers was important, and he hadn't once forgotten that, despite the fact that they weren't strangers anymore.
'Fourteen, eh? And what is it that's on your mind, chap? Anything bothering you?'
'Nothing in particular,' Charlie said, 'just teenage stuff, I suppose.'
But it wasn't just "teenage stuff". It was deeper than that, and Charlie knew it well.
'I've seen you around town before. I knew your face looked familiar.'
And as he spoke this sentence, his previously positive facial expressions seemed to change dramatically, almost as if he thought he'd dropped himself in it.
'You.. know me?'
'Well, I've seen you around. I think, anyway. Can't be too sure, I see a lot of faces doing this job, kid. Sorry, man.'
Charlie sighed: 'Hmph. Do you ever wonder why we're here?'
Steven frowned. 'Well, I'm doing my job, you're here gathering your thoughts.'
'No, I don't mean that,' Charlie said.
'I know. And to tell you the serious truth, I've thought about that question myself, many times. I've always wondered why we're here, if I can be frank with you.'
'Do you ever think about our purpose? Y'know, what we're brought onto this planet to actually do?'
Steven scratched his head, sighing whilst lighting his second cigarette.
'I'm not so sure, little Charlie. I'm really not. What's with the deep questions?'
'I've just been thinking a lot recently.. I'm not really enjoying life, you know? I want something more exciting, I want more from life than it currently has to offer.'
'Charlie, look. Life's tough, little man, I know that more than anyone. But you've got to keep your head held high, because you could be much worse off.'
'I know that, Steven. My Mum says stuff like that all the time, like when she asks me to help with the housework and I moan, but I can't help it. I can't help wishing for more.'
'I understand what you're saying Charlie, I really do. Believe me, you look like a kid who has been through enough already. You've had a lot of heartache, am I right?'
Charlie nodded. 'Yeah, that's right. My Dad died, and I just feel so lost without him. I wish he was hear, all of the time, but at the same time I don't wish he was here, because he'd just be ashamed of me.'
Steven wrapped a warm, comforting arm around Charlie, who was now shivering.
'Hey, hey, listen here son. Your father would not be ashamed of you, okay? He wouldn't. To me you seem like a nice young lad, you're extremely mature and you seem to have your head screwed on, which is always a good sign. You've got a lot going for you, I promise.'
Charlie began to weep gently as Steven patted his back.
'It's just so sad,' Charlie said, his voice sounding choked. 'I wish there was more I could do in life, especially for my Mum.. earlier today I shouted at her before I left to come here, and as I walked past the living room I could see her, crying her eyes out she was... and I just feel awful inside. I don't get why people have to die, it's just upsetting.'
'There there son, I know exactly what you mean. I don't have children myself, but I do have lots of little nieces and nephews, and they all come round to see me on a regular kinda basis.'
'Do you get on with them all?' Charlie asked, still sniffling.
'Of course I do. And do you know what they say? They say that you can't choose your family, only your friends, and that's true that is.'
'Yeah, I suppose,' Charlie sighed. 'My Uncle David died recently though, and it was horrible. We were all there together, as a family at the funeral, and it was great to see everyone there. People I hadn't seen in years were telling me that I'd gotten taller, and that I looked cool, but I knew that they were just doing it because they had to; because I'm a kid.'
'Well, you look pretty cool to me, kiddo,' Steven said as he held his hand up to his face.
'Thanks,' said Charlie, 'but I know that they didn't really mean it. After all, why would they? My Dad and my Uncle David were the only people who ever made me feel good about myself, and now they're gone. Gone forever, and all I'm left with is the grief and the pain. I just wish things were different... I wish they were still here, right by my side.'
'Grief can be a tough old thing,' Steven interjected. 'Everyone experiences it, everyone goes through it at some point or another, yet it feels different for each person. No two people ever feel grief the same way, and that's a fact.'
'I suppose you're right.'
'I am right, Charlie. Look, I've been an immoral man for most of my adult life, even in my adolescent years. Hell, I've done things that'd make a fully grown man cry. But at the end of the day, when it all comes down to it, my family comes first. Always, and that's something that'll never change.'
'There's nothing wrong with crying,' Charlie said, sounding innocent and ever so slightly naive.
Steven laughed. 'You're missing my point, and I think you're doing it on purpose. But look, my point is that you're a good kid, all right? You're a good person in a world full of evil, and that's something to be proud of. Don't get a lot of people like you nowadays, and that includes kids, the youth of today.'
'Thank you Steven, I appreciate what you're saying. What immoral stuff have you done, then?'
'Pardon?'
'Well, you said that you've been an immoral man. What sort of things have you done that are immoral?'
'Believe me, young Charlie,' Steven said sternly, 'you don't want to know. All I'll say is this - I haven't been the best behaved in my lifetime thus far. I got mixed up with a bad crowd when I was around your age, and I've been trying to correct my behaviours ever since. Made bad friends and the like, you know? Friends that have gotten me into grave amounts of trouble over the years. But as I say, I'm doing better now. I'm getting to where I want to be in life. Besides, jail isn't the kind of place you want to be spending your days, especially not in your early twenties. I was in and out of that place, the guards used to joke that I'd need a turnstile putting in.'
'Yeah, but what have you actually done?'
There was silence for a brief moment. Steven carried on.
'I used to think that the world owed me a living. As a teenager I was rebellious, smashing up whatever I could get my hands on. Cars, pubs, houses, you name it. It was all well and good for a short while, and then I became friends with this guy. He was a little older than me, I was around fifteen years old when we first met. He was eighteen and he always had these wicked fantasies, from a proper early age as well. He started nicking cars and when he'd take them home, he'd burn them. Stole them just for the pyromaniac kicks. But before long, well... he moved on to other crimes. Mugging, burglary, and eventually—'
'—eventually what?' Charlie asked, intrigued with a morbid sense of curiosity in his mind.
'Eventually murder,' Steven said, the word coming out of his mouth with a sharp force. 'That's right, the worst of them all, some might say. Started by killing bugs in his basement, ones that he'd trapped from the wild. He'd go to visit his family up in Scotland for the weekend, bring back some ants in this homemade ant farm that he'd made, and then kill them just for fun. Gallons upon gallons of water he would pour in there, just to watch them drown in front of his very eyes. One day I guess he just struggled to get his usual kicks whilst he was doing it, so he moved on... to people. He's a sicko, all right, and he still is to this day. Needs to see a doctor, because the way that man's brain works isn't right, I'm telling you.'
'How do you know all of this? Surely you don't still speak to this monster?' Charlie asked.
'I saw him about a month ago, somethin' like that. He still had my number, and as a result he called me up. "Stevie," he says, "how good to be connected with you again." Well I'll tell you something, young Charlie, it wasn't good. That man is the root of all evil, he has messed with my head on many occasions. But anyway, back to the story. So I get this call, and he starts rambling on about some revenge plan. He tells me that I've got to come over as fast as I can to see it, and to make sure that I'm not followed. So naturally I jump in my car, I'm driving like a mad man at this point, and after about fifteen minutes I'm there. I knock on the door and he starts feeding me some bullshit about how the town turned him this way, and how I've got to see what he's done downstairs. So he leads me down... to his basement, right—'
Charlie froze. It all made sense now. A million lightbulbs were going off inside of his mind, and he simply couldn't believe what he was hearing.
The man with the staring eyes in the basement was Steven, and this had been the case all along.
'You're messing with me,' Charlie said, standing to his feet. 'You're talking about Mr Manley, I mean Martin Manley, aren't you?'
Steven quickly stood up, a mixture of emotions spread across his face.
'Charlie, how the hell do you know about Martin Manley?'
'Just answer my question,' Charlie said sternly, 'you're talking about him, aren't you?'
Steven threw his head into his hands and began to shake it back and forth.
After a while, he said, 'yes.'
'Look,' shouted Charlie, 'I knew there was something creepy about him, I just knew it! And I recognise you, too! Do you recognise me?'
Steven looked him up and down for a second before bowing his head and nodding.
'Yes, that's where I know you from. The basement. Charlie, this isn't sounding good, you need to tell me what your relation to that man.. to that monster, is.'
'I'm friends with his son, Jamie. We're best friends.'
'I know who Jamie is,' Steven said, sounding irritable and anxious, 'I was at his birth. He seems to have turned out pretty normal, all things considering. Bit dim, but then again, I'd want to be a bit thick if my Dad was as evil a creature as his.'
'I'm going over to his house tomorrow,' Charlie said. 'I'm finding out what's really in there for myself. I went in once, but that was just—'
Steven's eyes began to expand. He placed a firm hand on Charlie's shoulder, a pale hand that shook nervously and uncontrollably.
'Now you listen to me, son. You're not to go to that house again. I know that that little Jamie is your friend, but you're not to go there. You've no business going up to that house, now do I make myself clear?'
'But you went in there? What's the difference?'
'Charlie, you need to listen to me, right? I went in there because I thought he'd changed... as I've said already, we were childhood friends, me and Martin. We go back many years. I walked into that house thinking that he would've changed, that maybe he got himself help, but he hasn't. He just hasn't... he is sick, he is twisted, he is a danger to society. You mustn't go there.'
'I saw people in his basement. Well, that was in a nightmare that I had, but I saw a boy, an actual boy, a living boy. Mr Manley had him tied up, and his lips were all bloody and horrible. And that's when I saw you, looking out of the basement's window. Are you... involved?'
Charlie began to shake with nerves.
'Young man, listen to me and listen to me careful. I am not a part of that evil creature and his sick games. He's evil, and he's a killer. He's not a man of morals and he is highly dangerous, do you understand now? You seem a smart boy, and I'd like to see you around... living. He takes whoever he can, you can't go into that house again. You're lucky to have come out the first time.'
Charlie looked terrified. Both of their hearts were beating at the exact same pace now.
'Steven, is my friend in danger?'
'Jamie? I doubt he knows what's going on. But despite the history between me and Martin, I love that kid with all my heart. Treat him like my own. Martin keeps his family away from personal affairs, and so I doubt he's in any sort of danger. His wife gets a little scared of him at times, he has a vicious temper on him. I'm pretty sure she doesn't know about what he gets up to when the sun goes down.'
'Can I ask you something?'
'Charlie, don't you think it's time you went home? It's getting dark.'
'No, I want answers. My friend lives in that house, my best friend. My only friend, for that matter. What were you doing in that basement?'
'Well if you'd have let me finish my story, I'd have told you. Sit down.'
And so they both sat down, together, with Steven continuing the rest of his story.