The Young Team Read online

  The two community polis ir floatin aboot the hall, lookin at the war memorial n other displays littered around the place. The young tall skinny wan wae black hair n the elder heavy-set boy wae a moustache – the Roadrunner n fuckin Yosemite Sam. Big McGiver is sittin lookin ragin cos the only thing that’s missin is the Toi. They huvnae shown up n huv, one n aw, dogged it. Aw the big man’s efforts huv been in vain n it’s written across his face.

  ‘Well, boys, I dare say we should continue regardless. Don’t you agree?’ We aw shrug n try tae look interested. ‘Help yourself to a sandwich, in the meantime,’ he says, glancin towards the two polis doin their own thing. McGiver speaks tae them like two pupils late fur class. ‘Sergeant Muldoon and Constable Blakley, we are ready to begin.’

  The fat one, Muldoon, trundles towards the circle ae seats and the tall one follows behind, monkey tae the organ grinder. They’re awright actually. Yir cat n mouse by default wae the community polis but it ended up more Tom n Jerry. They sit uncomfortably wae their stab-proof vests on n turn their radios doon quiet. Me, Broonie n Addison ir sittin like The Usual Suspects. The polis nod towards me n A gee them wan back – neither is overly friendly but it’s a wee acknowledgement. McGiver sees it n nods his own big solid nut. He claps his hands loudly.

  ‘Good morning, gentlemen. This is the first monumental and historic gang workshop this high school has ever conducted. Needless to say that the representatives of only one gang have turned up.’

  Everybody mutters a laugh n looks aboot like the Toi wid magically pop up. It isnae tae be. McGiver’s brand ae sarcasm is easily accessible. Even Broonie kin tell that he isnae being a hunner per cent serious.

  ‘So, first I would like to make introductions—’

  ‘That will not be necessary, Mr McGiver. We recognise a few faces and at least Mr Williams is known to us.’

  ‘See, sir, straight-up famous!’

  ‘Mr Williams’ ego aside … this is Sergeant Muldoon and PC Blakley, your community officers. On the other side we have Shaun Brown, or “Broonie”, and Paul Addison, and last but not least we have Mr Alan “Azzy” Williams.’

  We look among ourselves n McGiver laughs tae the two polis.

  ‘They think we exist in a different universe, one where we don’t have ears and don’t know their nicknames.’

  ‘Always the bloody same, Mr McGiver.’

  ‘Yes, none of this is new, but prevention is better than cure. I believe this workshop can be repeated around the town and I am going to make other headteachers aware of the recent increase in territorial violence.’

  Sergeant Muldoon starts tae talk. ‘Now, boys, we aw know that this could spiral out of control, so rather than it descendin intae more violence—’

  He’s cut aff by a brick comin right through the top windae. Everybody shites themselves n ducks. There’s broken glass on the floor n McGiver rushes tae huv a look. PC Blakley is awready aff, sprintin towards the main entrance. Muldoon nods tae McGiver n jogs behind him, lookin pissed aff he has tae run. We’re aw desperate tae see who’s done it. Through the broken pane we hear them shoutin.

  ‘YOUNG TOI, YA FUCKIN DAFTIES.’

  McGiver stands wae his back tae us, lookin oot the windae as it gets hit wae wee bottles ae Irn-Bru n beer tins. The big man looks like the caped crusader lookin over his city.

  We aw start creepin up behind him, chokin fur a peek oot intae the street. He raises a hand, ‘Stay back, boys.’

  We aw edge closer n huv a look oot. There’s at least twenty ae them standin, aw wae trackies on. They’ve git poles n wine bottles n their elder wans ir there. McGiver stands silently. A think he wishes he could just run oot n git stuck intae the bastards cos A know A’m fuckin dyin tae. Ma thoughts ir broken by big skinny Blakley sprintin oot the door, legs goin like the fuckin clappers. This isnae Mad Max. They aw shite themselves n sprint like fuck. A hear ma name gittin shouted as they turn n run. It floats through the windae’s new ventilation hole.

  ‘AZZY WILLIAMS IS A DEAD MAN!’

  ‘YOUNG TOI!’

  A’m standin next tae Big McGiver at the broken windae. There’s wan ae his posters lyin under shards ae broken glass. His angry look has faded tae acceptance. McGiver wisnae like the rest ae the teachers. They fired referrals at yi constant n fucked yi oot intae the corridors fur talkin or carryin on. Yi spent as much time oot there as yi did in a class. The big yin cared n wis tryin tae help us. Addison is sittin textin away over in the circle ae plastic chairs. A see Broonie tuckin intae the sandwiches, openin them up n stickin crisps between them n knockin back the ginger like a pint at closin time.

  ‘Yi tried yir best, sir.’

  ‘I know, Alan. It’s very disappointing. What can we do with you all?’

  We share a look but there’s nae answer tae the big man’s question.

  ‘A dunno.’

  ‘Me neither, Alan.’

  Bandit Country

  A stick ma heed oot the windae n light a smoke up. It’s gone midnight noo n the snow is still fallin. The flakes ir black against the swirlin purple n orange sky above. The smoke looks blue against the white ground. It’s Christmas Eve, but this year it doesnae really feel like it. The tree is up doon the stairs wae coloured lights n ma presents ir tucked away in the back of ma maw’s wardrobe. A loved Christmas when A wis wee n still git excited aboot it deep doon. Ma maw went tae hur bed an hour ago n the hoose went quiet wae nae tele on n nae daft Christmas music. We used tae go tae the Watchnight service in the church tae see in Christmas mornin, but the past year or two A hud patched it n went oot wae the troops instead, runnin the streets until late. Since aw the shite at the school, ma maw’s been worried sick. She says she’s distraught suhin’s gonnae happen tae me n it keeps hur awake at night.

  A’m snibbed fur the full duration ae ma suspension. No allowed over the door at aw. A’ve been blitzin the eld PS2, playin Max Payne nVice City. The troops huv been up sittin anaw. Ma maw doesnae mind, cos she knows we’re aw safe in here. It hud been a quiet couple ae weeks fur everycunt. Obviously, we’d aw still bailed oot windaes when our maws n that wur away tae work fur a joint or two. Yi need tae dae suhin when yir exiled fae school. It gits fuckin borin after a while.

  There’s a loud rattle at the front door. That fuckin knock that makes yir heart thud, pure polis chap. A bail doon the stairs n pull the door open. A recognise the red puffer jacket straight away.

  ‘Monica? Yi awright?’

  ‘Big Eck just got battered aff Matty O’Connor!’

  Matty is Si’s big brother. Him n Div Peters, Jamie’s big cuz, ir the two tap men in the Toi. Both ae them ir aboot eighteen or nineteen n gem as fuck. They’re the cunts yi heard aboot in stories n, cos ae their back-up, how Si n JP think they’re mental.

  ‘Fuck sake! Come in the noo.’

  She’s soakin wet n brings the cold in wae her. ‘Where wur yees?’

  ‘Up the Mansion swallyin. Me n Amanda walked up to meet Patricia, n Big Eck n that were there. We aw walked doon the shop fur fags n Eck went a walk wae Amanda. She phoned screamin hur heed aff sayin Eck had just been battered off four guys who jumped oot a BMW.’

  ‘Where’s everycunt noo?’

  ‘They’re aw gonnae head up the Toi.’

  ‘A needty go anaw.’

  ‘It’s up to you, Azzy. I’ll just say you wur sleepin n A went home. We can sit in here.’

  This is very temptin. No cos A’m shitin maself goin up the Toi, but because Monica Mason is offerin tae spend the night here wae me. That’s an offer boys ma age kin only dream ae, but yi cannae slope yir troops at times like these. ‘A’d obviously rather just stay here wae you, but we kin come back here, if yir still up fur it.’

  ‘Aye that’s fine, just be careful when you go up there – you’ve never been up, huv yi?’

  ‘Naw, no yit,’ A say honestly.

  A’ve never been up the Toi n A only know a rough sketch ae the layout ae the place. Should we git separated n A end up on ma own, then A could ju
st as easy run doon a dead-end or find a fence which is too high tae jump. A don’t know where the doss hooses n closes they’re likely tae pour oot ir. Or on the other hand, Monica sittin brushin hur damp fringe oot hur eyes on ma bed. Hur hair’s gone curly at the edges where it’s wet. A watch as she stands up at the windae n lights a Lambert & Butler, takin a slight draw on the end ae it fae the edge ae hur lips.

  There’s nae choice, no really. A grab ma Rangers scarf n wind it roon ma neck n over ma chin n mouth. A pull ma jade Marseille tracky on n pull a Nike Air hoody over the top ae it aw. Monica understands n doesnae offer any more protest. It’s still snowin like fuck. A could be dain wae ma own Mera Peak, which is wrapped n tucked in the back ae ma maw’s wardrobe. A’m ready noo. She beckons me wae a single finger n A kiss hur n feel hur hand go tae ma face, pure elder lassie manoeuvre. Right on cue, ma mobile starts ringin in ma pocket n A rush tae answer it before it wakes ma maw. It’s Danny. ‘Yelt, ma man! Huv yi heard?’

  ‘Aye, mate, A’m in ma bit wae Monica.’

  ‘Ya dirty dog! Yi comin up this Toi? We’re ootside your bit!’

  ‘Aye, mate, course fuck.’

  ‘HURRY UP, YA DICK! WAAA! HERE WE FUCKIN GO!’

  Monica is laughin n shakin hur heed. A grab two Budweisers A hud stashed doon the back ae ma drawer. They wid go doon smooth on the road tae the Toi’s scheme n wid take the edge aff any blows tae come. A kiss hur wan more time n we creep doon ma stairs. She gees me a cuddle n a kiss on the cheek before disappearin intae the night.

  We’re mostly aw here, bar Addison. He doesnae stay oot late n dae aw nighters wae the troops. Danny, both Kenzies, Finnegan, Broonie, McColl, Rab, Bailey, Whytey n Big Eck. His face looks a bit fucked, n he’s git a shiner ae a black eye. A git passed an open bottle ae wine aff Whytey n take a healthy tan oot it. He tells me tae finish it n A feel the warm rush ae Tonic in ma cheeks. A light a snout n we aw start walkin doon the hill towards the woods. ‘Yass, Azzy wee man! Here we fuckin go! First battle intae the Toi!’ Big Kenzie says.

  ‘Ready fur dain a bit?’ Stacey’s man, Big Rab Ryans, asks us.

  ‘Yir fuckin right A’m ir.’

  ‘A heard they jumped yi the other week, Azzy?’

  ‘Aye, Ryans, but we smashed them in school n got them back …’

  He shakes ma hand. ‘Let’s git up here n set aboot these cunts.’

  We’re aff intae the snowy night, walkin towards the Toi’s scheme. A few troops have brought weapons n they compare them as we walk under the last orange ae the street lamps. Wine bottles, a cosh n at least wan blade. Bats n that ir wan thing, but knives ir another level. A never carry cos A don’t want tae kill somecunt. There’s nae comin back fae that.

  The eleven ae us head intae the woods n start our trek through the darkness ae the trees. They seem tae swallow us as we disappear intae them.

  ‘Azzy boy n fuckin Monica Mason – no bad, son!’ Big Kenzie shouts fae the front.

  Everywan laughs. There’s nae shame in pullin a tidy, if the burds kin take yi serious it means yir a decent cunt.

  The sky looks aw moody n red cos the snow. The woods in this pitch-black wid normally huv been pure solid tae walk through but the ground is completely white n lights the path through the skeleton army ae trees. Ma Rangers scarf is right up over ma mouth n nose against the cold, wae ma hood pulled up. Everywan is banterin away like mad, passin beers n wine bottles among ourselves. A’ve drank ma two beers n aboot a half bottle ae wine on top. A’m feelin mad-wae-it n ready fur anyhin. We walk the path right up tae the end ae our woods n the start ae the golf course then jump the wee burn. The golfy is completely white n untouched. A winter-green flag comes wae us, like the battle standards of eld Scottish warriors.

  We march on towards the lights ae the scheme ahead. Our feet ir muddy n soaked through fae the half-foot ae snow on the fairways. We pass the clubhoose n enter the next set ae woods. The big woods tae the north ae the course ir our territory but the light wooded areas tae the south n east ir theirs. Soon as yi pass the fairways, bunkers n greens n enter the other side, yir in a foreign land. The Toi’s boozin spots ir behind the row ae trees n a squad ae them usually hung aboot there. Soon as we enter their unfamiliar woods, the atmosphere changes among us. Aw the laughin stops n cunts ir lookin aw business. The trees aw look different here, mare crooked n unfamiliar in the dark n less like our wans back across the open expanse ae the course. The banter fades n the volume drops tae a whisper. We aw know where we ir noo. Uncharted territory, the badlands. Bandit country.

  Soon as yir oot the trees, the Toi’s scheme begins wae the first row ae big spikey metal fences surroundin a block ae rundown flats. They huv red ash gardens wae nae grass n a single washin line hangin across it wae weans’ toys scattered among the weeds. Beyond that is a labyrinth ae side streets n windin residential areas wae as many potential wrong turns as dead-ends. There’s wan block ae high flats n the rest smaller wans wae closes n bright red doors wae clear windae panes n security buzzers. The first sight tae greet yir eyes is a ramshackle n derelict community centre. Y TOI is spray-painted aw over it n aw their stupit names anaw. A big massive MATTY Y TOI, followed by YTB, DIV, TOI BOIZ, IRA 1916, SI, JP, O’NEIL, ALLEN, UDA, 1690, FTQ n ANTI SCREW CREW. There’s another ominous message ae WELCOME TO HELL, just tae raise our spirits as we enter their area, deep behind enemy lines. We aw hope fur a massive gang fight n maybe part ae yi, deep doon, hopes we don’t see a soul.

  We push on, walkin up the street right intae the heart ae the Toi. We’re aw shoutin like fuck noo n tryin tae attract attention, like sharks after a drop ae blood.

  ‘YOUNG TEAM, IN YER AREA! YOUNG TEAM, IN YER AREA! WHO ARE YI? WHO ARE YI? LET’S GO FUCKIN MENTAL! LET’S GO FUCKIN MENTAL! NA NA NA NA, OI! NA NA NA NA, OI! LET’S GO FUCKIN MENTAL! WE’RE AW FUCKIN MENTAL! IN YIR FUCKIN HOOSE, EATIN AW YIR BISCUITS! FUCK YIR FUCKIN TOI BOIZ, YA DAFTIES. YOUNG TEAM IN YER AREA! Y T FUCKIN P!’

  Silhouettes appear in the darkness. Shoutin doon their own torrent ae abuse. Bottles, stones n bricks come flyin doon the street towards us. Whytey takes a bottle tae the heed n hits the deck. Danny drags him back tae his feet n we square-aff in two rough lines. Aw our weapons ir oot noo n we hunt fur missiles ae our ain tae fire back up at them. Big Kenzie n Eck ir at the front. Then Whytey, McColl n Ryans n me, Danny next tae us, Broonie n Finnegan on our left. Cunts ir shoutin our names n more ir appearin fae side streets. Two cunts push through tae the front ae their gang, Div Peters n Matty O’Connor. The full Toi is there n that Matty’s swingin a machete over his heed.

  ‘INTAE THEM, BOYS!’ Big Kenzie screams n starts chargin. We aw follow shoutin our heeds aff. A’ve git a wine bottle in ma hand n A’m swingin it over ma heed. They’re sprintin at us anaw noo. Soon as we reach them, everycunt in both lines clash. A’m swingin ma wine bottle at Si O’Connor’s heed n he’s duckin n swingin punches back at us. It’s a pure war zone. Everycunt is gittin attacked fae every direction. Matty swings the machete at ma heed n A pull back. It hits ma arm n A feel it cut us through ma jumper n sting like fuck. Big Eck turns n skuds him wae a bakey bat across the dish. He falls sparkled straight tae the deck. A’m still bouncin aboot wae ma wine bottle ready tae take it aff somecunt’s dome. A see Wee Kenzie gittin battered aff Div. A git hit wae a wine bottle across the face but it doesnae burst. A see the white flash, nearly knocked oot, an instant egg formin on ma jaw. A’m staggerin n fawin. Danny jumps in n pulls me up wae the scruff ae the neck oot the road. A’m fucked n heavy dazed but still conscious, yi huv tae keep yir feet or you’d git yir heed bounced on. Whytey is gittin battered aff three Toi wans. It’s oot ae aw fuckin control n turnin bad quick.

  More cunts ir runnin doon tae join the onslaught. Ma face n arm ir killin me n there’s blood. There’s folk everywhere noo. Men ir runnin oot their hooses n we’re still aw fightin like fuck. Matty’s back up n rugby tackles Big Kenzie. The two ae them ir scrabblin on the ground in a scrum noo. Si n JP fly fur us but me n Danny fight the two ae them aff n Finne
gan tries tae spear them. A turn roon n see Big Kenzie wae a big slash doon his face n everythin breaks apart. It’s aw fucked n we’re done this time. Sound the retreat somecunt n let us git back alive tae lick our wounds n tell tales ae bravery in the face ae the enemy. Every scar wid be a trophy, so long as everycunt made it back.

  Sirens sound n blue lights appear as two polis motors come screechin up the street. Wumen fae the hooses in the street ir over seein tae boys on the deck. Cunts that ir still standin start backin aff n pullin their hurt troops tae their feet. Aw the Young Team wans sprint back towards the Golfy. There’s polis chasin us n we’re runnin like men possessed. Cunts ir missin. Me, Danny, both Kenzies, Ryans, Broonie, Finnegan n Whytey make it across the street. There’s still figures lyin on the ground no movin n others gittin wrestled tae the ground n put in polis motors. Big Eck, McColl n Bailey irnae wae us. There’s two polis runnin after us anaw but they stop at the edge ae the woods n git on their radios. There would be helicopters n aw sorts after us if we didnae make it oot the woods n back tae our bit before they did. ‘FUCKIN RUN, EVERYCUNT! INTAE THE GOLFY!’ Ryans is shoutin at the top ae his voice. ‘RUN, YA BASTARDS! FUCKIN BOLT! SPRINT, EVERYCUNT!’

  We make it intae the woods. Naebody’s laughin noo. We aw stop tae catch our breath n fall doon finally intae the snow. A look aboot me tae see if A’ve been stabbed. A’m covered in blood n Danny rushes over tae me n starts pullin up ma hoody n tracky n checkin ma back. ‘Azzy, you ir pishin blood. You awright, mate?’

  ‘A’m sound, ya daft bastard, it’s ma arum.’ Ma jade tracky is soaked red n the smell ae ma own blood makes me spew intae the snow. A’ve git a deep gash on ma left arm n A take ma scarf aff n wrap it roon tae stop the bleedin. A’m just glad it wisnae ma new Berghaus jakit that git chopped. Ma arm wid heal but that defo wouldnae. A kin hear Wee Kenzie greetin his eyes oot. We aw pick ourselves up n rush over tae Big Kenzie. It’s then A remember his face.