Free Blood Donors by Steve Tasane Page B

Hear her breathe deep sleep-breath.
    I hear the pitter-pat , comin’ now from mine and Con-Con’s room. Sabretooth givin’ a whimper.
    This is it. We under attack. My heart hammerin’ like a house party in my chest. Legs won’t move. I look down, see if they been paralyzed by demon bug bites. But it fear gone and paralyzed them. Move!
    I almos’ barge into Mum’s dressin’ table dartin’ out from her room. I’m gonna club with my torch and splat with the fry pan. If I hit the Megas direct, one blow is all it’ll take. Stun ’em, give me time to go for the kill. Boom boom my heart.
    Get to our room, nothin’ here. Sabretooth sittin’ tremblin’ like Scooby Dooby Doo, startled round-eyed look on his face. He wag his tail, slink towards me on his belly, like he thinkin’ it’s him I’m gonna clatter over the head like a baby seal.
    Check the whole room again for Megas, cussin’ my dog. Sabre lookin’ shamefaced and cowardly. Dog that cried wolf.
    I can’t be two places at once. Sabe got to stay awake too and keep guard. Drag him back through to Mum’s room, shut him in. If Megas goin’ to invade the room, they’ll suck at the dog first. He can howl the alarm before they start suckin’ on Mum.
    Sorry, boy. Promise I’ll check on you.
    5 a.m . Connor snorin’ away. Quiet as a bug myself, I pull down his sheets so’s not to wake him. He wearin’ a T-shirt and boxers. His arms and legs are polka-dotted by bug bites. Five or six crawlin’ on him. Make me quietly go nuts, ’cos Connor’s blood be swellin’ their bodies. Every night they suck my bruv’s blood, and mine, and Mum’s.
    They also suckin’ at Mustaph, and Sis, and Big Auntie. All I know, they suckin’ at everyone in the whole block. No one able to stop them.
    And now big bugs. Megabugs, to suck us good and dry.
    Don’t nod off. Don’t close eyes. Do your duty.
    6 a.m . Guzzle the last can, Blufrog. Check on Mum. Sun risin’. Sweet. No Megas. Shinin’ torch in corners, patrollin’ posters and books, pillows, mattresses – check seams, check for holes, go through clothes drawer, shake out my gear, shake out Con-Con’s socks and boxers. No more bugs. No Megabugs. Don’t sleep. Don’t.
    7 a.m . Connor saying
Marsh?
    Was I asleep? Am I bit?
    Marsh?
    I nodded out, but it OK. Check myself. No Megas. Check bruv.
    Why you lookin’ at me like that, Marsh? You losin’ it, bruv
.
    Maybe. But it be mornin’. We survived. We all right.

Bullets For Breakfast
    I take a shower, wake me up, wash off my warpath smell. When I come out, Mum makin’ Con-Con toast and I can tell she got the hump big time. Maybe she mad enough over Sleepy Lady, maybe for me bangin’ on about bugs, maybe for gettin’ me another suspension, but mostly ’cos big-mouth Connor tell her I sat up all night drinkin’ pop.
    She keep glancin’ at the space on the wall where we had the picture of Dad, which I put up when we moved in. She took it down not long after. In her head the photo still there – ’cos when she’s stressed I see her lookin’ at it. At the empty space.
    She don’ know I fished that photo out of the junk drawer. My own eyes get to rest on it whenever they please.
    Con leaves the room, get ready for school. I’m butterin’ toast for me and my dog. Mum starin’ at me, dead-eyed. Sound of the knife spreadin’ marge across the toast scrapin’ across the silence, louder than it oughta, like a bug back inside my ear, scrunchin’ at my brains.
    Mum, dead-eyed.
    Like she doin’ her microwave countdown from ten so her temper don’ explode. Wait for the ping . There ain’t no ping . She get to zero. Minus one. Minus two. Scrape scrape. Minus three. Minus four. Bug chewin’ my ear. Minus five…
    What?
I throw down the knife.
    She stare down at the knife. Look up from the knife to my face. From the blade to my eyes.
    What?
    Marsh…
Her head still countin’. Minus six. Minus seven.
Marsh … what were you looking for in Mrs Lalwani’s