Part 2 of the Storyline with Ishii in my new Thriller

This piece originally formed part of an award winning short story, which I wrote many years ago and always wanted to turn into a longer work. I have grown very fond of Ishii!

 

 

Ishii frowned. Father had two mobiles. He spent a lot of time every day with them pressed to his ear. Maybe his mobiles won’t work in America, so he’s left them behind.

`He asked me to fetch you, take you back to my car to wait for him there.'

        `Father told me to stay here.'

Fatty was evil; the smell lurked under his leather jacket, like a ghoul. Ishii took a step backwards.

         `You do as you're told, mate. Your daddy might be a while. Got some nice sweets for you in the car.'

          `I don't like sweets.' Ishii blushed at the lie. Okasan only allowed him one a day and he always had to eat a piece of fruit first. He remembered her fingers delicately separating the Satsuma segments, fanning them out into a lotus flower on the special, blue-patterned plate.

           `Come along now.'

  Fatty took Ishii's bag and grasped the top of his arm. Ishii could still feel his father's grip and pressed his lips together. `This way.'

He makes a lot of noise, when he breathes. Ishii studied the short, hairy thumb pressed into his sleeve. Fred in The Beano never cares what grown-ups say, except for his mum.

            `I want to wait for Father here,' he dared.

            Ishii found himself propelled through automated doors and up a ramp. They crossed the road on a glassed-in footbridge. Ishii could see a British Airways plane taking off.

           They reached the car park. `Please Pay Here' said the sign. Fatty tipped a cigarette into his mouth, releasing Ishii for a moment to light a match. Ishii dropped his comic and ran towards a row of parked cars, arms pumping. `Fast like the breath of the stars,' Okasan laughed, when he sped towards her across the grass in Hyde Park.

            `Hey, come back here, you little bugger!'

   Ishii’s heart was leaping and throbbing, cotton wool plugged in his ears. He could feel something rising stubbornly in his throat, like the time the sink got blocked. As he stumbled round the corner, he heard Fatty's heavy steps close behind. He rolled under the nearest car, his cheek scraped the concrete.

            `Just wait till I find you, little sod!'

   He saw Fatty's dirty trainers pause in front of the Emergency Exit, then the door opened. He’s making a funny whistling sound.  The trainers disappeared. The door swung shut.

           He waited until the silence was complete, then pressed the button on his watch. Eighty-eight minutes till the flight, an algal green, slithery double snake of an 8. He wriggled out from under the car and started to run towards white metal railings and the lifts.

            Then he saw her.

  The air was suddenly thick as a pillow over his face. He felt Okasan’s soft mouth leaving a little lipstick kiss on his cheek:

 She opens the passenger door, crimson fingertips push the front seat forward. `Put the parcels in, nice and neatly, darling.'  She takes a step back. Then comes the swish of a car approaching fast on the wet road, very loud, louder and a scream, so close, it’s like it’s come from inside. The noise hurts his ears, a horrible smashing, tearing sound. He can't see. Something is crushing him. Something warm is running down his neck, a short clogged gasp stabs his ear. His legs are numb and beneath that he feels a freezing hurt. Stretched out like a piece of elastic, then black eats him up, starting with his arms.