Wednesday, 28 June 2017

Debs part 2

For audio click here 
For part one click here 
Be warned - strong language.
Debs stayed strewn on the floor for four or five minutes until it became too uncomfortable. She lifted herself up and hauled herself onto one of the benches, where there was just enough room for her. She looked at the neighbours sitting opposite her. They were all staring down at the floor terrified to get eye-contact. Maybe, they were embarrassed for her, she had nothing to be embarrassed about. They should have been embarrassed for themselves. She may as well have been in a sheep transportation lorry. They might have taken away her home, and left her with cuts and bruises but at least she'd put up a fight.
“Sheep,” she said, as the lorry bounced along the street leading them to God knew where. No doubt when they arrived, they'd be herded like animals, given stamps on their ID cards and stars to wear to show they were evacuees. “Don't you care? Don't you care?”
No one looked away from the floor in the same way no one had looked away from Game of Thrones. 
“They've taken our homes,” she said.
“Hey lady,” a big black bloke that Debs had a feeling was called Terry was looking at her.
“Don't you ‘hey lady’ me, Jesus fucking Christ I've been living next door to you for six years and you don't even know my name. Too busy wanking over PornHub and laughing at Mrs. Browns’ Boys.”
“Shut the fuck up, you'll drop us all in it.”
“We’re already in it mate,” she said.
“He's right,” a woman in a hijab said. “You're making things worse.”
“How can things be worse?” Debs said, but she knew when she was beaten. 

            They rumbled on in silence until the lorry growled to a halt, the canvas flap pulled back and a solider ordered them out. Debs sat there, letting her neighbours out first and carried on sitting there long after they had gone.
            “Come on lady, out you come.”
            “Unlike you, I don’t take fucking orders from no one mate,” Debs said.
The soldier sighed climbed into the wagon and grabbed Deb’s arm.
            “Get your fucking hands off me,” she said.
“I don’t take orders from the likes of you,” the squaddie said and hauled her out of the truck.
            “You fucking prick,’ Debs yelled.
She could see her neighbours standing in a line outside a low-rise block. They were watching her and shaking their heads. She expected to be take over and deposited at the back of the line but the soldier had other ideas. He took her in the opposite direction, to an identical block. They went through an austere front office and her guide knocked on a door and when ordered to do so, he entered, pulling Debs in with him.
            “Ah Mrs Ellis,” a man with a plumby voice said. “I hear you’ve been making ripples.”
            “Fuck you,” Debs said.
            “Oh dear, no need to be upset. Maybe a few hours at her majesty’s pleasure will calm you down. Then, we can have a civilised chat. Take her away.”
The squaddie led Debs through a myriad of doors and corridors until they reached the cells.
            “In you go,” he said and clunked the door shut behind her.

            “You fucking bastard, you’re not going to get away with this,” Debs shouted, but she had a feeling no one was paying her any attention.

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