The Brat
Driving the last leg home, he felt utterly drained; it had been a long, hard day. The woman he had been protecting had whined his whole shift long. Her every pronouncement beginning with ‘Het, I want…’ or ‘Hey, I need…’ or ‘Hey, go get me…’ with never a please or a thank you. No wonder she’s a rap star, he thought, she never shuts her damned mouth.
The powerful Merc ate up the miles. Another twenty minutes and he’d be home. Dawson switched on cruise control now that he was on the long empty stretch of moorland road. He hit the Jazz FM button and reclined his seat a little more. The car filled with soft Blues notes as a decadent saxophone wailed and a muted trumpet wept softly in the background. A woman with a velvet voice joined in with a blues-in-the-night number. He felt the tension of the last fourteen hours start to drain away, yeah, he thought, that’s better.
A momentary flash of white on the furthest reach of his headlights brought Dawson to full alertness. So fleeting was the movement that, at first, he doubted himself. A small white foot rolling into the ditch, surely not? He switched his headlights to main beam. Nothing. He slowed down and was about to dismiss it as a trick of his tired brain when from behind a tuft half of a small pale face appeared then ducked instantly. In that split-second he recognised terror.
He stopped ten metres short of where he believed he’d seen the apparition. Leaving the headlights on, he walked slowly along the edge of the road ‘hey’ he called down into the ditch ‘whoever you are come out. I won’t harm you.’ There was no response from the deep darkness. He returned to his car and retrieved a torch from the glove box, his curiosity aroused. Walking slowly back he illuminated the ditch with the bright, narrow beam. There came a frightened yelp and scabbling sound as she scurried up onto the road turning to face him. She was very young, a mere child. He gasped with shock; she was stark naked.
‘Please mister, please’ she pleaded, her eyes wide and her voice trembling, ‘please don’t let them get me, they’re going to kill me.’
Dawson’s face tightened. Shock, pity and anger surged through him, each fighting for precedence. His knees felt weak, and a sick feeling kicked into his guts. He turned the torch off not wanting to see the pitiful sight she presented. The girl’s age he could only guess was somewhere between twelve and fourteen. She made no attempt to cover her nakedness as she trembled before him, smeared with filth from head to toe. Her tiny breasts heaved as she sobbed, her large tear-brimmed eyes pleading with him. It was a moment before he could gather his wits, his mind was reeling, struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. Dawson looked around, mystified, there was no sign of anyone else. ‘What the hell?’ He managed at last ‘Jesus, girl, what’s happened to you?’ She didn’t answer, just crossed an arm over her chest and placed the other between her legs, shivering uncontrollably in the chill night air.
The A635, known locally as the Isle of Skye Road crosses bleak high moorland between Oldham and Holmfirth. It is a lonely place at four a.m. Often lashed by wind and rain or shrouded in fog, on this early March morning, it was cold, clear and still. The stars looked huge and bright away from the light pollution of big towns.
Dawson’s head began to clear. First things first he thought, he went to his car and collected his puffer jacket ‘here, kid, put this on.’ The girl took the coat hesitantly, her shaking hand brushing his, it was icily cold. She held the coat beneath her chin seeming uncertain as to what she should do with it. ‘Let me help’ he said gruffly. She whimpered and stepped back, her eyes once again wide and terror-filled. ‘I’m not going to hurt you, girl, I promise.’
She seemed to sag then looking utterly forlorn and the tears came, gushing in silent rivulets, cutting clear paths down her grimy cheeks. He took the coat and draped it around her shoulders, zipping it up before guiding her gently to the car. He opened the rear passenger door and she slid across the seat to cower on the far side shivering violently, now sobbing quietly. He got behind the wheel, killed the music, turned up the heating then took out his phone.
‘Please mister, please, don’t ring the cops, they’ll put me back into the care home then they’ll get me again, please,’
Her accent was broad and local, Bury, Rochdale or Oldham he guessed but what was she doing out here, alone and naked at four in the morning?
‘Isn’t care the safest place for you?’ The stricken look on her face in the rear-view mirror told him it wasn’t. He rubbed his chin uncertainly. What the hell was he to do with her?
Headlights behind him illuminated the car’s interior shooting javelins of light from his mirrors. The girl flung herself on the floor between the seats whimpering in terror.
The lights slowed as they approached, the black Toyota four by four drew alongside and stopped. The window went down, and a swarthy face leaned out. He was in his mid-forties, unshaven with dark narrow eyes under black, unkempt hair. Dawson didn’t like the look of the guy. He lowered his window ‘Can I help you?’
The accent was Eastern European ‘you broke down?’
‘Nope, just stopped for a piss, waiting for you to pass, I hate headlights in my mirror.’
The guy seemed to consider this for a second then nodded ‘you see anybody walking up here?’
Dawson feigned surprise ‘Walking? At this hour?’
The man hesitated ‘It’s embarrassing’ he said, ‘my niece, she runs away, no clothes, she not good up here’ he tapped his temple ‘we look for her, she needs her medicine, urgent.’
Dawson had had plenty of experience with liars and this guy was lying through his teeth. ‘Sorry, can’t help you, mate.’ He put his seatbelt on and put the Merc in gear to pull away. The guy spoke to his driver and the Toyota pulled sharply forward blocking his way. The man jumped out. Dawson released his seat belt; his hand going to the door catch. The man was big and burly but running to fat around his middle. He swaggered up to Dawson’s window chest out, his jaw jutting aggressively ‘We check your car, mister, so many perverts about.’
Dawson flung the car door open with lightning speed hitting the man even as he desperately tried to leap back. Then he was out of the car his fists clenched, his anger cold. The guy gave a growl and launched himself swinging a haymaker. Dawson sidestepped with the agility of a fox. He grabbed the back of the man’s neck, and, using his momentum, slammed his head into the edge of the car roof. The guy dropped to his knees with a groan and Dawson brought his right fist crashing into his temple with a force that felled him.
The beeping of a headlight warning sounded behind him telling him the Toyota’s door had opened. The driver was out and holding a baseball bat. He looked nervously from Dawson to his felled comrade then he slowly advanced raising the bat.
Faced with this new threat, Dawson’s anger changed instantly into focused calm. His voice was quiet and emotionless ‘you come at me with that, mister, and I’ll break your legs with it.’ it was more a statement of fact than a threat. He stepped back away from the fallen man, his hands clasped lightly over his crotch, eyes of steel, shoulders relaxed.
The driver had seen how easily his mate had been dealt with and hesitated, then he lowered the bat. He was in his mid-fifties, pot-bellied, with a deeply lined angular face and the same narrow eyes as the first man. A lifetime of cigarettes and cheap vodka had taken their toll.
He pointed at his companion ‘I just take my friend’ he said, his voice uncertain ‘we go, we leave you alone, OK?’
Dawson nodded ‘drop the tool and take him’ he retreated a further pace allowing the man to help his groaning friend stagger back to their vehicle. Once aboard, they drove rapidly off until they disappeared over the horizon towards Holmfirth.
Back in his car, the girl was now weeping with relief ‘Oh, thank you, Mister, thanks, you’ve saved my life.’
Dawson grunted, whatever her problem was it wouldn’t be resolved by sitting at the roadside asking questions and the men might return with reinforcements Christ, he thought, I really don’t need this shit, but I can’t just dump her up here or she’ll die of exposure.
He put the car in gear and drove off. But what the hell was he to do with her?