Silver Needle

The back alleys in Silverstone covered a square mile, and they all looked identical, save the odd patch of graffiti here and there defining territory. Groups would prowl around, fights would break out, and people would get hurt. It was how things were.
Down one dirty street was a bundle of clothes. To the passer-by, it would appear to be nothing of great importance. But in fact, it was a boy, no older than fourteen, lying on his side, only ever moving for those who were looking for him. His pockets were filled with all different kinds of substances. Ecstasy tablets, weed, cocaine, even a small amount of heroin lay in different unmarked packets concealed on his person. Also hidden from view was a five inch knife. He would never hurt anyone with it – violence wasn’t his thing. But when you have five inches of sharpened glistening metal staring you in the face, you don’t argue.
Alex didn’t enjoy this situation. Lying in this cold alley day after day, waiting for the odd teenager looking for some fun, or hard addict in need of a hit wasn’t pleasant. He’d been threatened many times before now by people so desperate they’d think nothing of tearing apart a teenager to get at his goods. That was why he kept himself hidden. If people don’t know you’re there, they’re less likely to kill you. But Alex had his reasons for being here, so he stuck at it.
The rustle of multiple footsteps disturbed his thoughts. He hazarded a glance around to see three burly men walking in his direction. They all had their eyes set on him, with a look of grim determination.
’Business,’ he thought. He watched them draw close, and then stopped next to him. The three motioned silently to one another, then one ventured.
“Hey you.” Alex remained silent, still curled up in a tight ball. He tried to ignore the cramp in his leg.
“We heard you run a little business here.” Still no reply. The first man smiled “Ok, we’ll play it your way.” He crouched down, next to Alex, and cleared his throat.
“I need a hit from the Silver Needle.”
‘At last’, Alex thought. He uncurled himself, throwing the scraps of material that lay on top of him aside. He stood himself up, running his hand through his short light brown hair to straighten it. From one of his coats many pockets, he removed a hat, which he set upon his head. His blue eyes glanced into those the figure towering over him and in his mind Alex measured him up. Then, as if noticing him for the first time, Alex spoke.
“Afternoon gentlemen. What, pray tell, can I do for you on this fine day?” A small smirk set in from his audience as dark clouds rolled low over them. ‘Good, they’re amiable’.
“Well,” said one, stepping forward. Alex noticed it, but made no motion. “We hoped to buy some heroin from you.” He reached back for the money his accomplice had retrieved from a pocket, took it and began to pass it forward – then stopped. He looked Alex square in the eyes.
“No shit, mind. I want a proper hit. And so do my friends here.” He subtly motioned back. Alex caught a glimpse of the two men, both of whom were easily over six foot high and well built, making subtle threats. He sniffed to show he wasn’t fazed. The fact was, this was far from the truth. He didn’t like these people. Something didn’t seem quite right.
“Let me see what I can do for you.” He pretended to go throw his pockets to find heroin. He knew exactly where it was. But instead of reaching for his upper right inside pocket, he reached for the one just below it, and unzipped it. The handle of a knife revealed itself. Alex then opened the pocket above, and removed the contents from within. He offered it to the first man, taking a hold of the money as he did so.
“It’s good.” One of the other men said, checking the bag he had been handed. The first man smiled to himself.
“Alex Kennick, you are under arrest.” Alex’s hand went straight to his middle right hand pocket, grasped the knife, and held it out firm in front of him. The man seemed surprised, if only for a second. In unison, all three men removed newly made black revolvers from beneath there tops, revealing heavy armour underneath as they did so. Alex panicked. Three barrels pointed at his head, and the only place to go was back against the wall.
“Give it up Alex. It’s not worth another life.” The teenager suddenly drooped, dropping the knife, and fell to his knees. Undercover Agent Langtree muttered something to one of his associates, who cuffed the boy, whilst the other said something into a walkie talkie. An unmarked police car appeared at the end of the alley and pulled up beside them. Alex was sat in the back between the two burly men. The experience had tired him greatly, but he was awake enough to notice a youngish woman sitting in the front seat. Unbeknownst to him, she looked back through her rear view mirror. Langtree got in.
“Let’s go.”

* * *

Alex had been charged in a juvenile court for dealing and taking Class A drugs, and had been sentenced to a year in juvenile prison and another two in rehabilitation. During his time in prison he would be given less powerful drugs, and if at the end of the time in rehab he was fully off drugs, he would be released back into society. If not, he would get annual reviews until he was cured. If he wasn’t at a review, he would get another year. Of course, he knew he had to play the game. Be a good boy, and he would get out sooner. He had learnt this from Damien.
Damien was another drug dealer-go-user Alex had met in juvi. He was slightly taller than Alex, with wild dark brown hair and deep brown eyes. They had been cell mates, and Alex still remembered when they had first met. He was being shown to his new cell by one of the guards. They had arrived outside the cell, and there he was. He was reading a battered book, but stopped to look him in the face. Alex secretly found him quite intimidating - that first time at least - but he kept that to himself. He wasn’t going to let himself be walked over. The guard had opened the door, and Alex had walked in and sat himself down on the free bunk. Damien’s deep serious voice broke the silence.
“So what did you do to end up in here, eh?” Alex was glad that this boy was talking to him. He hadn’t liked the idea of an unpleasant cellmate.
“Some undercover cops caught me dealing in the back alleys of Silverstone.”
“Dealing what?”
“Drugs. I was kind of on them too… nothing major, but I was pretty hooked cannabis.” He breathed in, and looked at the other boy. “What about you then?”
“Me? I murdered my whole family a few months ago, then set fire to my house.” He looked across at Alex, and then smirked at the expression of horror on Alex’s face.
“Can’t you take a joke?” He laid the book he had been reading on the floor and put his arms behind his head and lay back on the pillow.
“I’m in for the same reasons as you. Drugs.”
“So, when do you go to rehab?”
“In about a year, they said.”
“Same.”
“Well then,” Damien sat up and turned to face his new acquaintance. “Look’s like we’ll be spending a lot more time together.” He held out his hand. “Damien Crow.” Alex took it and shook it firmly.
“Alex Kennick.”

The two had soon become friends, keeping each other out of trouble, and always trying to find ways to shorten their time – none of which worked. Finally, one year was over, and they were sent to a rehabilitation centre just outside of Silverstone. It was a lot more comfortable than their previous living space, but it would never be home. The first month had been difficult, with Alex regularly having terrible withdrawal symptoms. Sometimes Damian would sit outside the enclosed room and listen to him scream. But it was often more than he could be, and he would steal himself away. Alex’s suffering really hit home to him, and within nine months, he was completely clean. Alex was nowhere near that well, but he was definitely improving. In the centre, they were still educated, as they would have been at school. On weekends, they would be given recreational time and would be allowed out with the staff in groups.
As the months went on, Alex slowly but surely recovered from his addiction, and by his nineteenth month in the centre, they claimed him cured. Damien had stuck with him all through the time, and it was a happy time for both of them.

* * *

Three years had passed since Alex had been caught, and finally he was a free citizen again. Damien joined him as he walked happily through the gates of the centre. They would never see it again. Previously one of the members of staff had arranged what would happen to them once they left the centre. Alex explained that he was going to his mothers’ house, but that she didn’t have a phone. The woman had been reluctant to agree to it, and had eventually got him to agree that she could come over that night to check that everything was ok. Damien had given the number of a friend of his whom he planned to stay with. The woman had checked on her systems that the given address was a suitable home, and everything had turned out fine. She had seen them to the exit, wished them luck, and let them go.
Damien looked happily at his new friend. It had been a long struggle for the both of them, especially Alex. Damien felt a surge of pride for him.
“So, what do we do now?” Alex laughed.
“We’ve had three years to think about this, and after we finally get out, we don’t know what to do with ourselves.” Damien laughed. It was ironically true. Many a time the two had talked of their upcoming freedom, but never of what they would do. Now it was all here and happening.
“So… where did you so you were going to go?”
“Back to my mum’s, I guess. She’ll have missed me.” He looked around at Damien. “What about you then?”
“Hmm…” Damien pondered the question for a few minutes. “I’m going to stay with some old friends. They were friends with my parents before the accident…” He trailed off, leaving the conversation in an awkward silence. Alex made a venture.
“I'm sure my mum wouldn’t mind if… well, if you wanted… you could come and stay with us for a while… until you can get back on your feet at least.” Alex felt a little stupid making such a caring gesture. But Damien took it to heart.
“Thanks. As soon as I’ve got myself back on my feet, I’ll come and stay with you. But I think I should at least get some money before I start taking up yours. Thank you anyway though.”
The two boys exchanged a warm smile, and then continued on down the roadside.
“You may as well come and say hi to my mum. She’ll be more obliged not to bite my head off if you’re there – I hope.” The boys laughed again, and continued on down the pavement.
Twenty minutes later, they arrived outside a council estate house, with some flattened cardboard boxes outside, and an old, slightly broken tricycle embedded in the messy lawn. A window was cracked.
“Well, this is it.” Alex seemed very on edge. Damien didn’t say anything.
They walked across the lawn, down the side of the building to a wooden door. Alex stood still for a moment. Then, reaching out his hand, he knocked firmly on the door three times. Damien could see his shoulders rising and falling with his excited breathes. They could here footsteps coming to the door. Both boys tensed.
A thirty-year old looking woman answered the door, wearing tight fitting jeans, and a top that was too small for her. Wow, he thought, beside himself. She was quite attractive, with long brown hair, and a face very similar to Alex’s. He watched as her blue eyes widened and her jaw dropped.
“Alex?!”

Lauren sat quietly on her living room settee. Her usually bright blue eyes had dulled as they stared into those of her estranged son. What did you say in this situation? As vast and full as the English language is, Lauren was still at a loss of what to say. So she simply sat and stared. Alex was having the same dilemma. The two had gotten over the initial awkwardness of their first meeting, with some help from Damien making small talk, but he had soon left. They had gone inside, and Lauren had asked her son a few questions, all of an unnecessary nature, questioning how he was etc. But from then on little had been said, despite half an hour passing.
“Why did you do it all?” Lauren blurted out. Alex wasn’t really expecting a question, especially not one questioning his situation. It caught him off guard.
“Uh…” He paused for thought. “How do you mean?”
“Why did you get so involved in drugs? I mean, I knew that you were taking them here and there, but I didn’t realise you were a dealer… so, why?”
“Because mum! Look around you!” he gestured around the room, at the broken furniture, the peeling wallpaper, the cracked window. “Because I wanted to make things better. For you and me.” He was on his feet, and so was his mother. She wavered slightly on her feet, like a tree in a strong wind. Alex breathed out. Even he was slightly stunned by his outbreak. A small pitiful noise caught his attention. Lauren’s face had contoured and tears had begun to trickle down her tired face.
“I’m home mum. I’m going to look after you; I promise.” He held out his arms, and then wrapped them tight around his mother. Her shoulders shook with her tears, but it was alright. Alex knew that much.

* * *

Jon surveyed the contents of the small plastic bag being held in front of his face. He was no expert, but from a few years of smoking green he was pretty sure this stuff was real. He looked at the two boys in succession. Neither could have been older than eighteen. One seemed slightly on edge, kinda nervous, whilst the other was cool and relaxed.
“I’ll take two bags,’ he said, as if he was grudgingly doing the teenager a favour. They both knew it wasn’t true, but it was all part of the game.
The relaxed boy turned to receive two bags full of weed, before turning back to pass it to his customer. He took the man’s £15, and slipped it into his back pocket.
“Pleasure doing business with you. Come back when you need some more.”
“I will do.” Neither of them yet knew that he would die in a car accident caused by the effects of the drug; but then again neither did anyone. Jon stashed the two bags into his torn coat, turned around and disappeared into the long shadows.
Alex stretched as a yawn escaped his lips. As he regained his normal stature, he noticed he could see his breath, and blew a long column of hot air up into the air.
“You never were one for maturity,’ commented his partner. Alex gave Damien a mock stern look, and took a slightly crude spliff from one of his inside pockets, lit it, and put it too his lips. Damien saw it immediately and flashed Alex an angry look, though it was quickly replaced by his usual grimace.
“You’re not doing anyone any favours, you know. Especially not yourself.”
“Is that so?” Alex intoned. “Relax. It’s just a ‘recreational’ habit. I could quit whenever – I don’t want to, is all.”
“What would your mum say if she knew?”
Alex thought this over for a second.
“I don’t know, but I could guarantee there’d be swearing in it.” He blew a puff of smoke and, shivering, looked around him in the shady back alley. “Look, I don’t enjoy doing this. But you know my situation. We’re on the verge of getting thrown out of that house, and it’s not like my mum can afford to get anywhere else.” He took another puff on his spliff. “I don’t want her to know that I’m up to all this again, so what I do is this. I work a normal job working the tills at McDonalds. I get a minimum wage paycheck. Then I tell my mum that I earn double what I actually earn, and get the extra money needed from dealing. Any left over money I use to buy more ‘wares’. It’s simple, and everyone’s happy.”
He paused as if he was going to continue, and then cut in on himself.
“What I don’t understand is – and don’t get me wrong here, I appreciate you being round – why do you deal with me? I mean, you seem dead against the whole thing. You have done ever since those first few weeks in rehab.”
Damien arched his back slightly, sliding his numb hands into his coat pockets. For a moment, he looked to the moon, until the clouds stole it away.
“I need money to pay the guy who’s putting me up right now. I find it hard to get a decent paying job with my,’ he paused to think of the best word, ‘background, so when I found you back here dealing, I decided I’d help.”
“Yeah,’ Alex made inverted commas, ‘help.” Damien punched him in the shoulder. Alex, rubbing where he had just been hit, looked up again at the sky. It was a light slightly yellowy brown. In the distance, it was starting to get lighter. Alex coughed, put out the spliff, and hid it back in his pocket. Damien looked up at him as he spoke.
“Right, well I personally can’t be fucked with anymore of this tonight. It’s too cold out, and no-ones coming.” He turned to leave when Damien stopped him.
“We may have one last customer here.” There was a tall thin black coloured man walking straight for them. Alex adjusted his hat, and Damien put on a slightly nervous expression. As the newcomer drew close, Alex recognised him as a previous customer.
“Evening squire.” Alex began.
“Don’t give me any of that fake posh bullshit. What the hell is this?” He held out a bag of cannabis, one which Alex realised to be a bag he had sold him just a day ago. He looked up into the man’s eyes and was startled to see them so angry and bloodshot. Though startled, Alex continued to look calm and collected.
“What’s wrong then?”
“All I’m saying is that ain’t real green. I want my money back.”
“I'm afraid I can’t give you that,’ Alex said matter-of-factly. ‘That money is already long gone.” This was a lie – it was sitting in Alex’s back pocket – but he didn’t want this guy to know that.
“If you won’t give me the money, I’ll take it from you,’ the man said, suddenly seeming to grow considerably taller.
“Oh yeah?” Alex tried a sneer, but his cool was running out. Behind him, Damien was getting twitchy. The man noticed this and looked up at him.
“What the hell’s your prob-“ he was cut short as Alex’s fist landed square in his gut, winding him and making him drop to his knees.
“Run!” Alex bolted off down the alley and it the night, closely followed by his friend. They heard an angry yell from behind them, and soon the sound of footsteps. They dodged this way, then that way, climbing low walls, and eventually hiding themselves in an unused garage. They threw bits of tarpaulin over themselves and put toolboxes over their lower bodies. Then, holding their breathes, they waited.
It must have been half an hour till Alex decided they must have lost them, and they stole themselves back to their homes, tired, but still a little excited.