The word occurred to him even as the sensation came upon him. Tangajorsarpoq. A strange, archaic word from a dying language. He’d forgotten almost all of the Greenlandic that he’d learned in his early twenties when he’d been briefly fascinated by the sounds of the words, but that one had for some reason stuck in his brain. That word and just a handful of others of Greenlandic; the entire first soliloquy of Macbeth, and parts of a particular poem by Walter De La Mere, were some of the random remnants of the literary and linguistic learnings that had captured his imagination in the past. Holding his nose and moving it around to try to suppress the tickle it struck him as funny that here he now was, making one of the most important efforts of his life not to sneeze while his subconscious mind mused on a foreign word that meant exactly that. Funny too, how his mind was off in happier times reminiscing about the literary hobbies of his past, while his reality involved hiding beneath a seat in the cinema, trying not to be noticed by the two young men with guns who were currently walking up the opposite aisle, glancing into each row for stragglers.
Jake’s Saturday night had begun much like many others. He had finished work at lunchtime when the yard closed for the week, gone home and got cleaned up, eaten a late lunch, then headed out to the shopping centre to browse the things he couldn’t afford for an hour then, as usual, head into the cinema with his membership card to watch last week’s new movies. He wasn’t a premium member so couldn’t get into the newest ones, but from the sounds of the explosion in the auditorium next door, that may just have saved his life, for now. After the bang and the shaking subsided, many people in this room had fled for the doors back into the lobby but even as they had crashed open, the shooting had begun and the massed bodies had been all pressed together with nowhere to go. Fortunately for him, he had dropped off during the movie and been woken by the blast and the shaking, but had not jumped up and run with the crowds. He had been about to do so, but at the first sound of gunfire he had instead rolled off the recliner onto the floor and squeezed himself beneath it. There were signs everywhere about not going under them due to the danger of being crushed but he’d choose the risk of an accidental crushing over the certainty of deliberately being shot every day of the week. He’d stayed where he was, silent and unmoving, while the screams of terror and sounds of pain had subsided to whimpers and laboured breathing, then his elbow had gone dead and he’d been forced to shift position. As he did so his face brushed the horribly dusty underside of the footrest and that’s when the urge to sneeze had come upon him and threatened to betray his position.
He’d managed to suppress it now for several minutes but it had not gone away and he knew he was limited on time before the sneeze forced itself out. The footsteps came past a little closer and he was glad, not for the first time, that he was wearing his customary black trousers and shoes and that his black coat had fallen from the chair on top of him as he’d rolled to the ground. He could hear the two men talking now. They both sounded calm and relaxed as they laughed about something he couldn’t make out, then came the dull thump of them dropping into seats in the row behind his. This screen had still had quite a few spaces so the ones behind were not reclined and he could see the men’s black lace-up military-style boots on the floor. There was a metallic sound as one of the men put his gun on the attached table, and a flash of yellow light as the other one lit a match. The smell of cigarette smoke drifted from him, pungent and enticing. Jake had given up several months ago but now, having just released his nose, the craving hit him like a hammer. There was a plaintive whimper from somewhere a few yards to his left and the man who wasn’t smoking got up, picked up his guns and headed away. There was a gunshot, the whimpering stopped, and the smoking man laughed again.
“You did well Rod. I know you were nervous but you’ve managed to get past that it seems!” He did a mocking impression of someone whimpering for help and then “Click, Boom! Problem solved.”
The other man didn’t sit down again. Jake could see his boots turning slowly this way and that as if looking around the cinema for more movement.
“It had to be done didn’t it. If anyone’s seen us and we don’t finish then off then we’re done for and then it’ll all be for nothing. We should get out of here.”
The one who wasn’t called Rod laughed again then sucked on his cigarette. His laugh was greasy and unpleasant, like it contained no humour, and only the joy of inflicting suffering.
“We’ve got a minute for me to finish this. Why are you here anyway? Where did Mikey find you?”
“Is this really the time Baz? Shouldn’t we be scoping the way out?”
The sound of a long drag on the cigarette again. Jake assumed Baz had shaken his head, as Rod continued.
“It was when the bastards sent my dad off to prison for not paying his fines and for robbing those houses. I mean he was desperate, what was he supposed to do? That finished it for me mam. She hit the bottle big time, got liver disease, ended up on a waiting list for an op, but they said it’d be a year and half, and she basically killed herself. Dad got knifed in prison, and that left me on my own, I was just turned sixteen. I tried to get help but there was nothing for me. If I’d been a few weeks younger I’d have been looked after but at sixteen, nothing. I lived on fish me and Denny caught in the canal with stolen tackle. That’s how I got my nickname. When I met Mikey he said we could hit the establishment right where it would hurt them. I don’t like it when it means killing people who aren’t really involved, and I wish Denny hadn’t had to die, but that’s how you get their attention isn’t it. Collateral damage, as they say.” He pronounced the word slowly like it was unfamiliar. “I don’t know what’s next for us but this has got to make them see that we’re serious and that they’re gonna have to talk to us and change stuff.”
Baz threw his cigarette on the ground and stepped on it as he stood up.
“OK, you know the score now, let’s get tidied up. Give me your gun.” There was a pause and some fumbling noises followed by a metallic click. Baz continued. “It’s funny you mention collateral damage because look over there…”
Jake saw Rod’s feet turn away from Baz then heard a gunshot, very close, and Rod fell to the floor, his face hitting the lino with a sickening wet thud. Baz stepped over him and nudged his shoulder with a foot. “Well Rod, you’re a fucking idiot mate. So is Mikey, come to that. So was your mate Denny, but he’s now liberally spread all over screen one so he’s no longer relevant. I tell you what though you’ve all done my lot a big favour. Pretty easy to convince the idiot police of anything when there’s only one intact body to investigate, innit.” At this he leaned down, yanked Rod roughly to the side and stuffed something inside his jacket before rolling him back on his face. “See ya then!” he said cheerily, and Jake heard his footsteps heading down towards the screen and out through the emergency door. Once the door had closed behind him the sneeze finally came, along with the horror and terror he hadn’t been allowing himself to acknowledge. When the armed police finally burst in they found Jake curled in a ball on the floor, crying and unable to speak.
