‘Oh, sure, everyone’s free to do what he wants when he’s on his own, but when he’s with the others he has to toe the line, so stop arguing…’ I was always keen to have the last word, with Mel – that was my only hope of getting it into his head.
When we reached the park, the group assembled. The only ‘principals’ – that is, those who were responsible for the kids – were me and Yuri, known as ‘Gagarin’, who was three years older than me. We had to decide how to go about identifying Lyoza’s assailants with precision, and how to get them to come out into the open.
‘Let’s take a couple of them – any two, at random – and threaten to kill them if the attackers don’t show themselves!’ proposed Besa, who in matters of strategy behaved like a tank, flattening everything in his path.
‘And you know what would happen? In three seconds they’d all run away and we’d be left with two spaced-out idiots who had nothing to do with it…’
I had a plan to propose, but I wanted to do it delicately, because to my way of thinking, its success depended entirely on Lyoza.
‘Listen, guys, I’ve got an idea that will definitely work, but it needs one person’s courage. Yours, Lyoza. It needs you to show your balls.’ I looked at him. He seemed exactly what he was: a kid who had nothing to do with our gang. With his perfectly buttoned jacket, his thick lenses that made him look like a monster and his hair cut in the manner of the actors of the 1950s, he looked completely out of place. Lyoza came closer to me, so as better to hear what I was about to say. ‘You’ve got to go there on your own: that way those bastards will see you and show themselves. We’ll surround the area and stand behind the trees, ready to act… As soon as you recognize them, shout, whistle, and we’ll jump on them in a flash. The rest is already in the hands of the Lord…’
‘Not bad, Kolima. Good plan, if Lyoza agrees,’ said Gagarin, looking at Lyoza to see how he would react.
Lyoza adjusted his glasses on his nose, and in a resolute voice he said:
‘Sure I agree. Only afterwards, when the fighting starts, I don’t know what to do; I don’t think I’ll be able to hit anyone, I’ve never done it in my whole life…’
I was impressed by the dignity with which the boy told the truth about himself. He wasn’t afraid at all, he was just explaining the facts, and my respect for him grew.
‘When we jump out from the trees you hide behind them; Besa will keep close to you in case anyone tries to get at you.’ Gagarin made a gesture to Besa, pointing two fingers at his eyes and then at Lyoza. ‘Not one hair must fall from his head!’
We headed for the centre of the park. We kept in the dark and avoided the main avenue. We reached the trees behind which there was an asphalted space with benches arranged in a circle, under the dirty yellow light from three lamp posts. The Polygon.
There was the sound of music; we could see the kids sitting on the benches, on the ground, on their scooters. There were about fifty of them, including some girls. The atmosphere was very relaxed.
We split up into six groups and surrounded the area. At the right moment I nudged Lyoza with my shoulder:
‘Go on, little brother, let’s show them nobody messes around with the boys of Low River…’
He nodded and set off towards the enemy camp.
As soon as Lyoza came out into the open, there was a flurry of movement among those present. Some got up from the benches and peered at him curiously, others laughed, pointing at him. One girl screamed like a mad thing, laughing and sobbing at the same time. She was obviously drunk. Her voice immediately disgusted me. She sounded like an adult alcoholic, her voice ruined by smoking, very coarse and unfeminine:
‘Look, Whisker! There’s that fairy from the coach! He’s returned to get his stamps!’
The girl couldn’t pronounce her ‘r’s properly, so her speech sounded faintly comical.
We all listened attentively, ready to spring into action as soon as we identified the guy she’d spoken to. He didn’t keep us waiting long. From a nearby bench, crammed with girls, a boy who had been strumming a guitar got up and, putting down the instrument, walked towards Lyoza with a light, theatrical step, throwing his arms apart as you might to welcome an old friend.
‘Well, look who’s here! You little bastard! Have you decided to commit suicide this evening?…’ He didn’t manage to say any more, because out of the darkness appeared the figure of Gigit, who leaped on him like a tiger and knocked him to the ground, giving him a rapid succession of violent kicks in the face. I too jumped out from the trees; in a second we were all on the square and surrounded our enemies.
Panic spread among them – some rushed first one way and then the other, trying to escape, but as soon as they came up against one of us they retreated. Then a group of more determined guys broke away from the rest and the fight really began.
I saw a lot of knives flash, and I too took out my pike. Gigit came close to me, and shoulder to shoulder we advanced, striking out in all directions and dodging the few attacks that came towards us.
A lot of them, seizing their chance, started running away. The girl who had screamed was so drunk she’d fallen down as she ran, and one of her friends trampled on her head – I heard her cry out and then saw the blood on her hair.
In the end we were left against about twenty of them and, as they say in our language, we ‘gave them a good combing’: none of them was left standing, they were all on the ground, many had cuts on their faces or their legs, some had their knee ligaments sliced through.
Mel marked the end of the fight with a flourish. Shouting like an enraged monster and making strange contortions with his hideous face, he picked up a scooter which was resting peacefully on its stand, raised it to the level of his chest and after running five or six metres threw it on top of a group of enemies, who were lying on the ground massaging their wounds.
The scooter landed with a crash, hitting one boy on the head, and others on various parts of their bodies. The ones who had been struck started screaming with pain all together, in chorus. For some reason Mel got even more angry because of those screams, and started hitting them with inexplicable violence. Finally he climbed on the scooter and cruelly jumped up and down on it (and on them). Those poor devils screamed desperately and begged him to stop.
‘Hey, arseholes! We’re from Low River! You beat up our brother, and you haven’t finished paying for it yet!’ Gagarin communicated his solemn message to all those who were lying on the ground. ‘We’ve just taken personal satisfaction, by beating you up and cutting you. But you still have to satisfy the criminal law, which you’ve shamefully violated! By next week five of you pansy bastards will report to our district with five thousand dollars, to be paid to our community for the trouble you’ve caused. If you don’t do it, we’ll repeat this massacre every week, until we’ve killed all of you, one by one, like mangy dogs! Goodbye and good night!’
We felt like unbeatable champions; we were so pleased with how things had gone that we set off for home singing our Siberian songs at the tops of our voices.
We crossed the park, breathing in the night air, and it seemed to us as if there would never be a happier moment than this in our whole lives.
When we came out of the park we found a dozen police cars in front of us: the cops were lined up behind the cars, with their guns trained on us. A searchlight flicked on, blinding us all, and a voice shouted:
‘Weapons out of your pockets! If anyone tries anything stupid we’ll fill him full of holes! Don’t be fools, you’re not at home now!’
We obeyed and all threw our weapons on the ground. In a few seconds a heap of knives, knuckledusters and pistols had formed.