People Watching Part 8 - As Close as You'll Ever Be
I’m not sure why or how this happened, but people watching over
the last few weeks had taken me down to the coast. Although it’s good to be away from the urban
madness, for several days I’ve had this insistent feeling in the pit of my
stomach that I needed to get back to Boomtown. So, I stuffed my few belongings into my
battered rucksack and checked out of the little B&B I’d been staying
in. It was one of those uncommon days that
I suppose you could describe as ‘nice’ and I decided to walk down to the taxi
rank at the sea front, hoping to grab a ride into town. The taxi rank was empty but I wasn’t in a
hurry and this was an ideal opportunity to do a little people watching.
I’ve said it before, but you don’t have to wait too long in
Boomtown before something kicks off and sure enough within a few minutes, there
was some sort of dust up on the thin sliver of sand that passes for a
beach. From where I stood, it looked
like this tall tousle-haired bloke had been chatting up a pretty girl, sat on
one of the faded ‘rent-me-by-the the-hour’ deckchairs that were scattered
across the strand. She seemed to be
enjoying the attention – chatting with her would-be suitor and happily smiling
back at him. That was until a bloke that
I guess was her boyfriend, came out of the sea-front café, calling the odds and
leaving the interloper in doubt about his fate if he got hold of him.
Just as the tall bloke did the sensible thing and started to
beat a retreat, a battered old taxi pulled up and I jumped into the back. The inside of the car smelt of worn leather
and stale cigarettes and the driver had all the windows rolled down to make the
best of the thin coastal air. As with
all drivers in Boomtown, a gas-mask sat in the empty seat beside him. Having taken countless taxi journeys into the
city, I knew what to expect as we got nearer the ‘big smoke’. On a good day, it would be just a matter of
closing the car windows, but at the slightest hint of heavy traffic, the driver
would put on his mask. Although most
Boomtown taxi drivers were pleasant enough, they weren’t known for their
conversation. I’ll leave it to you to
imagine what happened to any chat once the mask went on!
Boomtown isn’t blessed with much of a car culture. Most citizens seem to be content with
pottering round in clapped out old bangers which only get replaced after they’ve
been run into the ground. Cars are
bought second hand from small car lots that are strung out along the main roads
into town. It’s pointless having car
sales in the middle of Boomtown – on most days you’d drive off the lot and sit
in traffic for hours. By putting the
business on the outskirts, it’s likely you’d have driven your new purchase a
few miles before it broke down - just far enough so the salesman didn’t have to
face down all his pissed off customers. Normally,
I wouldn’t give any of these car lots a second look but today held a rare
surprise. There on what can laughingly
be called the forecourt – in other words, the pavement at the front of the
portacabin – among the usual array of faded Cortinas, tatty Marinas and
clapped-out Rovers was this huge cream coloured Cadillac – all chromed out and
looking powerful. It wasn’t for sale –
but nevertheless a small crowd was gathered round and as we drove past, I could
see the sweating salesman desperately trying to keep people away from his new pride
and joy.
Finally, we arrived in Boomtown. It was about half past nine by this time and
it was darker than usual. There was no
moon in the sky and the few street lights that were working seemed to be losing
their battle with the thickening darkness.
After tipping the cabbie I set off for my flat taking a little rat-run
I’d used many times – that’s when I heard a scream followed by scattered
footfalls as shadowy figures fled the scene.
I bent down over the figure slumped on the pavement, his words were
mumbled and I could see blood flowing from a wound in his neck – I shivered
when I realised that even on this lightless night, his blood still glistened. There was nothing I could do to save him and from
the horror in his eyes, he knew that too.
As he took his last breath, I’m sure I saw his spirit escape– a fleeting
will o’the wisp that rose from his body and was quickly lost in the smothering
blackness.