Alarmingly Strange Stories |
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Tracy Tenchins |
. It was around Sunday lunch time before news of Sparrow's misadventure reached me. Gibsy appeared at our front door like a messenger from hell. He spoke quietly, which was normal for Gibsy. He told me that Sparrow had received a kicking so severe that he was laid up in Hospital with a fractured jaw, broken ribs and a face that no mother could love.Worst was still to come-they had smashed Sparrow's Grifter bike. We all loved our bikes they were extensions of ourselves. The rest of us had BMX's, which we cleaned and maintained lovingly. Sparrow could never make the transition from last years fad to this years. He said BMX's were poofy, that they would not last, in fact a lot of excuses except the truth. Which was his family did not have the money for one and which I would never reveal to anyone. I told Gibsy to round up Clayton and Johnny and meet me in half n' hour at the Bales. Clayton filled me in on the details that Gibsy had omitted. Sparrow's assassin went by the name of Tracy Tenchins, a viscous overweight shaven headed thirteen year old girl. I had previous experiences with Tracy, all bad. Her Father was an ex-sergeant with the Army. He was also a crazed alcoholic that even hard men in our area shied away from. All in all, the family was just a total nightmare to the whole neighbourhood. Tracy had got herself an army of her own. Around twenty kids had fallen under her spell, armed to the teeth with home-made crossbows and pockets full of u-nails. This was their calling card. No way could the four of us take on that amount of might and yet somehow we had to avenge Sparrow's misery. Gibsy lit up a cigarette and spoke his usual motionless tone, "Bring them down here, to the Bales, that'll even things out a bit." "He's right," said Clayton, "We got a chance on our own backdoor. But we need more numbers." "Slay them with brains not brawn." Retorted Gibsy. Taking the lit smoke from Gibsy and inhaling like a demented goldfish I listened attentively as Gibsy and Clayton fired off ideas on how we were going to bring Tracy and her gang to their knees. I felt like an excited kid on Christmas morning as each idea pulsated around the room. In less than an hour we had derived a plan, the first part was the simplest and the most dangerous. Someone had to entice Tracy's mob down into our patch. That someone was Gibsy. He had volunteered himself, a masochistic offering by the dark one. I for one was not surprised by the deed. Although, Gibsy and myself were close, I could never get very far underneath to find out what made him tick. He was far too mysterious for us young fledglings to understand. A boy of few words sure, but you knew your back was covered with Gibsy around. "How you going to bring them down ?" I said. He must have sensed the tension in my voice, for he leaned over on his BMX and said, "I'll be fine Hoodrae. Keep an eye on Johnny though, he looks as if he might pop one any second." Indeed, Johnny was fretting all over the place, gibbering like a madman. His face was ghastly pale. As I turned back around to agree with Gibsy he was half way down the street, a crossbow strapped to his back he cycled away on his BMX in search of Tracy Tenchins and her gang. The Sun was starting its daily disappearing act as it melted down along the horizon. It was my turn to be nervous. I was keeping look out at the start of the Bales. Watching, waiting, jumping out of my skin every time someone I thought resembled Gibsy turned the corner. Everything was ready and in place. We had initiated a few more foot soldiers to the cause, but we had nothing in the numbers of Tracy's gang. Gibsy had been gone for nearly four hours and it was nothing short of a miracle that we had managed to bring our plan to life. All it needed was for the host to turn up for her surprise party.. |
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