Chasing Angels

Chapter 1: Runnin’ (Lose It All)

“If I lose myself, I lose it all.”

Angel:

I startle awake. The room is bathed in the artificial green glow from the alarm clock to my left. 4 AM – my witching hour. The dreams always come around this time; so vivid that I fear they will haunt me, even in my waking hours. Some days they do. The awakening is so sudden, so violent; that I know there will be no more sleep tonight.

I swing my legs out of the grey cotton sheets and wander to the window of the top floor flat. I rest my clammy forehead against the cool glass of the full-length windows. My body is drenched in a cold sweat. Edinburgh is sleeping, so why can’t I?

This city can take on so many personas depending on the time of the year, time of day and weather. Right now – blanketed with a heavy sheet of falling rain – it is grey, bleak and somewhat hopeless. A perfect match for my mood.

I like the rain. It has a cleansing effect on the world, almost like it can wash away a multitude of sins. After a really heavy rainstorm everything is fresh, nearly good as new. I’m hoping, tonight, that the rain can have this effect on me. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of my running shoes. “Deal.” I whisper quietly, even though I am alone.

Some people like to run in the park, mostly for the scenery, but not me. Pounding the pavement is more therapeutic. Music is not something I enjoy whilst running either. The only soundtrack I run to is the thump of my heart and the whoosh of my lungs as I tear up the miles. Today, the sound of my feet is the loudest as they strike the rain-soaked pavements of the Royal Mile. Each step seems to come quicker than the last, spraying up water in perfect arcs. With each step, each sound, come the images.

Bang – Dad pulling me into his arms and throwing me to the sky. Bang – Him talking at school about his job as a policeman. Bang – all my friends so jealous, my Dad was the best. Bang – Me and my older sister playing in the garden. Bang – a knock on the door. Bang – two policemen, not Dad. Bang – Our Mother screaming. Bang – a baby crying. Bang – a coffin and flowers. Bang – black clothes. Bang – Mother. Bang – Sister. Bang – Baby. Bang – All crying. Bang – empty bottles. Bang – scattered pills. Bang – Mother sleeping. Bang – crying. Bang – hugging. Bang – sister. Bang – outside. Bang – A man. Bang – grabs. Bang – my. Bang – sister. Bang – black. Bang – eyes. Bang – screaming. Bang – crying. Bang – alone. Bang – cold. Bang – snow. Bang – alone. Bang – cold. Bang!

As I skidded round the corner, lungs burning, I realised that the last bang was louder; it was real. There in the small, dark alley before me, was a man lying on the ground – motionless. About 20 metres away, between him and I was another man, facing me. His face was difficult to see as the high buildings and trees blocked out most of the moonlight. In his right hand was a dark metal object that I recognised well – a gun. I realised that the last bang had been a gunshot.

With lightning speed I removed my badge from the waist band of my running bottoms. I squinted through the rain and shouted “Police, stay where you are!” The assailant lifted his weapon and fired and I dove to the side to avoid the shot. I righted myself to see the man already running away. I started to run after him until I got level with the motionless body in the street. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some movement.

I knelt next to the man on the ground. He was young, more of a boy really, and had been shot in the chest. From the rapidly spreading blood pool, I didn’t think he would make it. I searched for his wallet and found his driving license. Jason Shaw, damn – 18 and only just. So young, such a waste. “Jason. My name is Angel, and you’re going to be fine, honey.” I said as I applied some pressure to his wound. It barely stemmed the flow. I was pretty sure I’d just lied to a dying kid. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and dialled 999. “This is Detective Corporal Angel. ID number: 64075. I need medical and police assistance for a gunshot wound at St. Grey’s Close. Suspect has fled onto the Cowgate, heading in the direction of Holyrood. Please hurry.” I closed the phone and turned back towards the boy. “Jason? Can you hear me?” With every agonising breath, I could see the life ebbing from his body. “It’s ok, honey. I’m here with you. You’re not alone.” I hated the fact that the last thing he saw were my eyes, too jaded and cynical to comfort him properly. Death was an all-too-frequent, uninvited visitor in my life.