Jimmy Coates: Killer

“I’m Jimmy Coates. My name is Jimmy Coates and I’m just a kid.”

“OK, Jimmy, I need you to come with us. You can trust me.”

There is something very untrustworthy about a man who says “Trust me”. This man’s eyes were the colour of steel, and from the way his shirt pulled across his chest, it looked like he was built of the stuff too. Jimmy stared back as hard as he could and tried to look tough, but this wasn’t a game. Jimmy’s throat tightened and something behind his stomach stopped him breathing properly. It looked like he had no choice but to go with these men.

Maybe Jimmy hesitated just a little too long. The taller man dipped his hand into his jacket and Jimmy caught a glimpse of a pale leather holster. When the man’s hand emerged, it was holding a gun.

“I just need you to come with us,” he stated coldly, but Jimmy couldn’t take his eyes off the gun. It was the first he had ever seen and it was pointed straight at him.

All of a sudden, utter fear behind his stomach turned into something else. Jimmy felt a surge of energy, as if some powerful piece of machinery had been turned on. It quickly spread through his whole body. It was something he had never felt before and he didn’t know whether he liked it. In another moment, it bolted up the right side of Jimmy’s neck and wrapped itself around his head. At that moment he stopped thinking. His mind cleared and the feeling inside started acting for him. He dipped his body to one side and sprang forward. He was out of the line of fire now, and before the man could adjust, Jimmy put one hand on the gun and the other on the man’s wrist. With a firm twist, he pushed the barrel up towards the ceiling and leant down on the man’s hand. There was a loud crack. The gun dropped to the floor and the man clasped his trigger finger in pain.

Jimmy had moved so fast that the shorter man hadn’t had time to react, but now he leapt forward. Jimmy darted away from his desperate grasp, then kicked the gun under the bed. He looked towards the door, but both men stood in his way; even though one was hurt, he was still ready to act. His half-smile had turned into a grimace.

Jimmy was acting automatically–by instinct, not by thought. It was like watching someone in a movie. He saw the men move and could predict exactly where they were going to go by the way their weight shifted across the floorboards. As they lumbered towards him, Jimmy took a light step to the side and leapt backwards.

He coiled his body into a ball and shut his eyes tight. The two men were stunned as Jimmy smashed through the window. Glass shattered everywhere and Jimmy felt it falling with him. The air was suddenly cold. He screwed his eyes shut harder and waited to hit the ground.

As he fell like a lump of stone, Jimmy’s brain crept back on. He had enough time for one thought to go through his head–why had he jumped out of the window? There was a paved drive below, and now he was probably going to die, or at least break every bone in his body.

Then he hit the concrete.

CHAPTER TWO – GREEN STRIPE (#ulink_09b37fde-2265-590f-95e5-90830cabe63e)

JIMMY DIDN’T MOVE. He had landed on his shoulder and his eyes were still shut. Glass rained around and on top of him. He could hear it falling on the roof of the car that was asleep next to him, and he felt some hitting the side of his face. He lay there, waiting for the pain. Why hadn’t he blacked out? Then he thought maybe he had blacked out. Maybe he was in hospital and the whole misunderstanding about the men coming to get him had been cleared up.

But Jimmy knew that wasn’t true. He brushed fragments of glass away from his eyes and opened them. He could see the light of a street lamp winking at him. He didn’t understand why there was no pain at all. He wiggled different parts of his body. Everything moved just as he wanted.

He rolled his neck as one last test to make sure he wasn’t actually dead. He looked up to the sky, then saw his house and the broken window. Dad’s going to kill me, he thought. For a second, he thought he saw Mr Higgins’ bony nose peeking through next door’s curtains, but Jimmy’s eyes were still bleary.

Then he picked out two faces looking down at him out of the glass-lined hole. Those two really will kill me, he thought. But he didn’t get a chance to panic. That strange feeling crept up on him again, like a tropical wave filling his insides. It moved faster this time as it swooped up the side of his head. Jimmy tried to keep his mind switched on; he didn’t like surrendering control of his body to whatever this was. It may have saved his life, but next time it tried anything as stupid as throwing him out of a window, the result might not be the same.

He couldn’t stop it, though. Now that he knew he hadn’t been hurt by the fall, Jimmy wanted to spring up and run as fast as he could. But he didn’t move. His body stayed exactly where it was until the two heads moved from the window. They were coming down for him. Run now, please, he thought, but still he didn’t get up from the drive. Instead, he tucked his elbows into his chest and rolled over twice until he was under the car. The ground was cold, and bits of glass stuck into him as he spun over them. He felt around the undercarriage of the car and found a place for his fingers to grip. Then, with just the strength of his forearms, he pulled his whole body off the concrete. He hooked his toes under a fold of metal and waited.

There was dust and grime all over him. He could feel grease crawling down his arms and dripping on to his face. Slowly, he paid attention to his thoughts again: if he had run, the men would have jumped into a car and chased him down. But what instinct had told him to stay put and to roll under the car when the men weren’t looking? Then he noticed the ridiculous position he was in, clutching the underside of the car. Where had this strength come from?

Now the two men came running out of the open front door. Again, Jimmy could only see their shoes.

“No visual,” shouted the shorter man, looking up and down the road.

“You were meant to stop him getting out of the living room.”

“He used his strength against me.”

“That’s rubbish. He doesn’t know yet.”

“Then how did he break your finger and jump out of the window?”

“Put it in the report.”

Jimmy was getting more confused by the second. What didn’t he know yet? Then he heard the crackle of a walkie-talkie.

“The boy’s out. Establish a perimeter. We have no visual,” one of the men said. Jimmy saw one pair of feet run over to the back of a van that was parked in the street outside the house.

“What are you doing?”

“You don’t expect me to sniff him out do you?”

“The dogs won’t do any good, you fool,” was the response, but the van was already open. Jimmy heard barking and saw two sets of paws padding around the driveway. Then the dogs dipped their noses to the ground and Jimmy saw their faces, their mouths drooling in the lamplight.

“I brought down a sock,” said one of the men. Then he pulled both the dogs towards him on the long leashes. “There you go, boy. Good boy. Go fetch.”

The animals circled the car, creeping like thieves, every now and again lifting their faces for a second, then snorting back to the ground. Jimmy watched one of them getting closer, walking right along the side of the car. It stopped at the level of Jimmy’s face and sniffed around. He had read that dogs could pick up a scent better when it was wet, and the ground was definitely damp. Jimmy held his breath.

“Get those dogs back in the van. They’ll only cut their paws on the glass.”

Both dogs were pulled quickly away. Jimmy was relieved for the moment, but even more confused. Why hadn’t they picked up his scent? Jimmy sniffed, trying to recognise his own smell, then realised that was silly.

Then came more footsteps and a voice Jimmy knew. “Are the handcuffs really necessary?” It was Jimmy’s father coming out of the house.

“I’m afraid they are, Ian,” said one of the men. Jimmy held on tight to the car, his knuckles going white. He watched the feet of his family marching out to the street. First he watched his father’s, then saw that his mother had been allowed to put on some shoes instead of the slippers she had been wearing. Then came Georgie. She had also changed out of slippers and into trainers. But then there was one more pair of shoes. There must have been another suit that he hadn’t seen, who came in after Jimmy ran upstairs.

These shoes were an anonymous black, and shiny just like the shoes of the other two men, but something about them made Jimmy look twice. There was a pattern on the toe that he recognised from somewhere; he just couldn’t work out where. He watched them walk slowly away from the house. He was sure he had seen those shoes before. Then again, maybe the fall had given him strange ideas instead of bruises and broken bones.

Jimmy watched everyone stepping through the puddles. One of the pieces of glass on the ground offered him a strange, distorted reflection of the people walking about. Everything was upside down and he couldn’t make out their faces, but he could see their outlines. He wondered if any minute somebody could catch a glimpse of him reflected in the same glass, or even see his whole face if there was a puddle that caught the light.

Then Georgie unknowingly provided the perfect distraction. She picked up her foot and kicked out at one of the men, nearly hitting him. “You’re not taking me,” she shouted. Jimmy felt a jolt of excitement. “Help! Police!”

If anybody can fight, Georgie can, he thought, remembering all the times he’d been pinned on the bed with his head under her arm. He willed her to keep screaming; surely someone would hear and get help.

But then his father’s voice cut in. “It’s OK Georgie, we don’t want to cause trouble. Quiet now.”

“No, I’m not letting them take me!” She was shouting louder, and then she kicked out again, this time landing a sharp blow in the middle of the man’s shin.

“Hey,” said the man, grabbing his leg and rubbing.

“I’m not going with you!” And she ran. Jimmy watched her feet disappear from view and thought he could hear her shouting something. It sounded like, “I’m going to help Jimmy”.

They had a chance now. Maybe someone had heard Georgie shouting and would call the police. Maybe even Mr Higgins would decide not to be so deaf just when it was important, and get them some help.

“Let her go. We don’t need her,” said the man who had been kicked.

“Your leg OK?”

“Stupid kid. You take these two in the van, I’ll follow in the car.”

“And how’s your finger?”

“Shut up and put them in the van. The boy won’t get far.”