Caught in the Web by Emmy Ellis (classic english novels .TXT) 📕

at The Man Point Three. “Are you up for that shower and a good long sleep tonight?”

A good long sleep. LOL.

“Too bloody right.” The Man Point Three dragged his arse up off the ground then led the way—the wrong way.

“Come on,” Gordon said. “I live down here.”

“But you and Ian went along there yesterday.” The scummy git frowned and pointed.

So The Man Point Two had been called Ian. Thanks for the information.

“We did, but I had to get some supplies in, didn’t I?” Gordon said. “You know, some bacon and whatever for breakfast. I’ve got enough in my fridge now, so no need to nip into Tesco today. And Ian’s waiting for you. Suggested I come and get you, he did. Reckons you’d like to watch Star Wars with us later.”

“That’ll be great. Brilliant.”

Ian hadn’t managed to watch Star Wars like he’d wanted to. Shame.

Gordon turned away and walked off, the other tramps grumbling that they hadn’t been asked to join them. One of them muttered that he was glad Ian was still at Gordon’s house as he’d been worried, what with there being word of a murder this morning—and because there’d been a murder, they could do with having somewhere safe to go tonight.

Not going to happen, sorry.

The Man Point Three came abreast of Gordon, and they ambled up the path until the buildings that had replaced the red warehouses came into view in the near distance. The shiny offices opposite had dull eyes again. They disturbed Gordon.

Maybe they’ll sparkle once The Man Point Three is gone.

Cheered by that, he walked faster.

“Do you have any brown at your place?” The Man Point Three asked. “Ian said you always have some.”

Gordon smiled at him. “I have a syringe in my pocket, actually. When we get to the canal, I’ll let you have a dose. Better that we shoot up where no one can see us, eh?”

“This is going to be the best night of my life, I can feel it,” the vagabond said and grinned, showing heroin-ravaged teeth.

Don’t smile like that. It makes you not look the same.

Gordon itched to take the wig out of the carrier bag and insist that his companion put it on right this second, but they were in full view of a few people who appeared to be on their way to the park just up the path. If The Man Point Three didn’t want to wear it, he might make a scene.

After a while of moseying along in companionable silence, they reached the new buildings, and Gordon guided him until they walked through the hedge and came to stand beside the canal.

“Lovely place in the summer, this,” The Man Point Three said, his arms jerking where he obviously needed a fresh fix. “Used to love coming down here as a lad.”

“I came here as a kid, too.” Gordon took the wig out of the bag. “Do me a favour, will you, and put this on?”

The Man Point Three laughed. “Whatever will get me the brown, man. I’m used to doing all sorts for that.”

I bet you are.

He took the wig and settled it on his head, transforming his features immediately. This was who Gordon should have picked last time. Funny how hair could change a person so much. A vision of The Man stood in front of him in all his manky glory.

“Move along there just a tad.” Gordon gestured to where she had been while tossing the blood-stained plank into the water.

“What, along here, like?” He shuffled sideways, watching Gordon all the while with what appeared to be trusting, wide eyes.

“Yes, right there is perfect. Now for the brown, eh?” Gordon produced it from his pocket, knowing from how her and The Man had reacted upon seeing such a large syringe full of their favourite drug that this tramp would think he’d died and gone to Heaven.

Well, he’ll be dying, but not necessarily reaching Heaven, although I’ll come as close to it as I’ll ever get with the contentment.

“You have the first half, I’ll have the second,” Gordon said. “Sterile needle, so no worries there. Sister’s a nurse, see. I get clean stuff from her.”

You’re not supposed to lie…

But I have to.

“Oh right.” The Man Point Three danced on the spot. “On you go then.”

“And there’s this amazing place I jab myself—back of the neck. Gets straight into your veins and starts working immediately. Instant hit.”

The Man Point Three turned, no questions, his back facing Gordon, and parted the wig at his nape. “Bloody looking forward to this.”

Me, too.

“Here we go, then,” Gordon whispered.

He uncapped the syringe and approached The Man—yes, he was just The Man now—who had been such a source of unhappiness in his life. The wig had become sufficiently tangled and messed up while in the bag, and Gordon got a flashback from the past of The Man standing there just like this, waiting for his fix. Trusting Gordon to give it to him. Believing Gordon wouldn’t hurt him. And why would The Man think Gordon would? Hadn’t The Man scared him enough that doing him wrong wouldn’t have entered Gordon’s mind?

Gordon administered the whole shot and suggested The Man Point Three have the hit from his high while lying on the ground. After the tramp’s position was correct, Gordon waited for the heroin to take effect. He looked across at the once-sparkling building. The sun wasn’t strong enough, nor had it been able to push past the heavy clouds today, so those blank eyes were still there.

Gordon stared that way for a while, listening to him gurgle and splutter. Then Gordon shrugged and turned his attention to The Man, who’d closed his eyes, and his breathing had become shallow to the point that Gordon had to squint at the