‘P… please…’
Perkins stopped hitting him.
‘Sarge, I don’t think…’ Psycho had no idea who the other voice was. He sounded young, frightened.
‘Tell them about the kid you killed,’ Perkins said, softly now.
He sounds like he believes it. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’ve got it wrong in my head, so tired.
‘Wasn’t… me…’ Psycho managed.
Perkins started hitting him in the arm again. Psycho screamed until he passed out.
He came to again. This had to stop now. He couldn’t go through any more. He looked down at his pulped left arm. There was bone sticking through the skin.
Someone was whispering to him.
‘They’ve got Lumley next door. Stupid bitch thought she could make it through selection. Unless you tell them about how you killed that kid and then shit yourself, that you’re a coward, she’s going to get raped. Do you understand me?’ Psycho was crying now, nodding numbly. ‘Are you going to tell them?’ Psycho didn’t answer. ‘Tell them.’ Perkins voice was getting louder. Psycho didn’t look up. He just kept his eyes closed. His head down.
He remembered the LCZ. He remembered the shooting. The missile strike. He saw a figure, he couldn’t make out his features, pointing the marksman’s rifle at the tower block. Pulling the trigger, the kid dropping. He saw the same figure curled up in the foot well of the TSV.
He felt the metal head of the baton being run up his right leg. He’s going to break my legs, Psycho knew. It wasn’t the thought of the damage, that was irrelevant now, it was the thought of the pain. He just couldn’t take any more pain.
‘You put the rifle to your shoulder, you saw the kid through the scope, knew he wasn’t armed and…’
He was looking through the scope of the rifle. He saw the kid. So easy, so easy to kill, just squeeze the trigger.
‘Because you’re an animal….’
Stood over Davey Falconer, his face so much pulped meat. He hadn’t stopped hitting him. He could hear people screaming the word “animal” at him. He was an animal.
‘Tell them what you did,’ Perkins whispered to him. It was intimate, like a lover. He had let the tip of the baton rest against Psycho’s compound-fractured arm.
It was him. He’d pulled the trigger. He’d killed the kid. He’d been the one cowering, hiding in the TCV.
‘Tell them and all the pain goes away.’
It took every bit of effort he had. He spat in Perkins’ face. He regretted it the moment he’d done it as fear of the pain overwhelmed him again. Perkins raised the baton and brought it down on his leg. This time Psycho knew it wasn’t him who was screaming. He was too far away. Whatever was making the noise wasn’t human. It was a wounded animal.
He was going to say what Perkins wanted him to say. He couldn’t get hit again. He couldn’t take the pain. He would beg him if he had to, anything, but Perkins had to stop hitting him.
He opened his eyes to pain and light. But not as much pain as he had expected. He was lying in a hospital bed. His right hand was bandaged. His left arm and right leg were both in casts and held in traction.
‘You’re in a bit of a mess,’ a voice said. A shadow sat in the seat in front of the window. It was a sunny day. Even seeing hurt. Psycho tried nodding, but that hurt too.
‘Obviously Sergeant Perkins exceeded his brief,’ the figure said. The figure was starting to come into focus now. He was a little guy, wiry. Psycho had seen him before but couldn’t place where.
‘No… shit…’ Psycho managed. His mouth was dry.
‘I remembered him, but not at first. I knew I’d seen him before but couldn’t place him. He’s the wanker who fired on the tower block, really stirred them up.’
‘I remember you. You got a lot of people killed,’ he told the special forces soldier. He had been one of the forward observers he’d seen in the LCZ, one of the ones who had guided the Anguish’s attack. The man stared at Psycho coldly. Assessing him.
‘I remember you stopping for us.’
‘Lumley?’
‘She made it, first fully-operational female member of the regiment. Made a few of the boys uncomfortable during RTI, but I’ve seen lads go from being staunchly against women in the regiment to being really proud of her.’
Psycho nodded. He couldn’t feel much about Lumley or anything else at the moment.
‘What’re you doing here?’ He was only beginning to understand the ramifications of just how messed up he was. Even through the drugs, the pain was nearly overwhelming.
‘I came to apologise. I took an interest in you. I was overseeing the RTI.’
‘You did a really good job.’
‘I stepped out, no excuse. For what it’s worth, I’m guessing not very much, I’m sorry.’
‘Fuck you,’ Psycho said quietly. The special forces trooper nodded as if it had been a reasonable response. He stood up and made for the door.
‘Perkins?’
The trooper stopped and looked back at Psycho.
‘He had several accidents on his way out of the army. Look, we can deal with…’
‘No.’ The trooper nodded. ‘Selection?’ The trooper looked troubled. ‘I fucking passed!’ Psycho spat. The SAS man nodded.
‘Yes, you did, but you can’t go operational. With those injuries we don’t even know if you’ll heal fully, then there’s rehabilitation. You’ll be lucky if you can go back to 2 Para. Not to mention… RTI’s not about surviving it. Given enough time, everyone breaks. It’s how you’re able to cope with it, rationalise it afterwards.’
Psycho was just staring at him.
‘Get the fuck out of my room.’
The man nodded and then walked out.
The man that Perkins had hurt, that was someone else. A different piece of screaming meat. It had been nothing. He hadn’t known anything about pain then.
‘What unit are you with!? Where’s the rest of your people?’
Say nothing, head down, passive, don’t make eye contact, and never encourage them by being a smart arse. This last had been a hard-learned lesson. He received a solid punch to the stomach. It knocked over the chair he was tied to. Then the boots came in.
‘Corporal, that’s enough,’ the SAS man said. The SFSG corporal stopped kicking him and helped him up.
‘Sorry mate,’ the corporal said.
Psycho looked at the SAS man.
‘Exercise over?’ he asked. The SAS man nodded. Psycho turned back to the corporal. ‘You are such a fucking pussy.’
The corporal laughed.
‘Don’t blame me,’ he pointed at the SAS man. ‘He told me to be particularly hard on you.’
Psycho looked at the SAS man and nodded.
‘I don’t think I like you very much.’
The SAS man smiled and helped him out of the Quonset hut. Lumley was waiting for him in the yard.
‘You look like you need a brew and smell like you need a shower,’ she told him.
‘I need two ampules of morphine and my bed, is what I need,’ Psycho told her.
Psycho was stood in front of the CO’s desk, at ease. Psycho was in civvies. The “Old Man” was in fatigues.
‘You’ve always been an insubordinate little fucker, haven’t you, Sykes?’ the Colonel asked.
‘Yes boss, thank you,’ Psycho said, in a smug enough tone to warrant a warning glare from the CO.
‘Commandeering an RAF helicopter and taking it into the middle of an air strike. You’ve outdone yourself this time. I want to RTU so much I have an erection.’
Suddenly Psycho was taking this seriously. He did not want to be returned-to-unit.