Blackwatertown. Paul Waters
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about me?’ The first words from Macken since they had arrived back.
‘Keep your mouth shut like you have been doing, and you might come out of this smelling of roses. Stay in bed and out of the way.’
With that, Gracey strode into the barracks. Macken felt drained of both energy and initiative. He needed to just stop and close his eyes.
*
Macken made it to his bed, opened his collar and began to remove his boots. Everything seemed so long ago. The tension, the fear, the adrenalin, the frenzy that had come over him as he shot bullet after bullet into the car. He had been so many people over the past hours – defiant in the face of the cycling bigot, helpless when faced with imminent death, timid in the aftermath. And always the same question in the suspicious looks, and then in a woman’s gentle voice: Who are you really? Macken had no idea who he’d be when he woke up.
*
There was no escape. Every time the darkness claimed him.
He tried to spread his wings. But there was no room to stretch, no room to move.
He was an egg snug in a box, pinned in place, stuffed under straw. But still he struggled feebly against the tiny nook that held him like a coffin.
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