Translator:
Nyoi-Bo Studio
Editor:
Nyoi-Bo Studio
Tang En had never imagined such a scene in his mind.
Bright little Gavin lay quietly on a cold cart in the hospital morgue, covered with a single white cloth. Other than the light from the corridor through the doorway, the rest of the room was dark. This environment and the image of Gavin did not tally. That child should be bright and lively. Sometimes he would deliberately pretend to look mature and wrinkle his brows, but would reveal his age again when he spoke.
Michael had said he had good grades in school and was smart. Tang En had thought he would have a bright future, too. In the future, he might have been a banker, a barrister… the British Prime Minister.
But Gavin had said that if he really became rich in the future, he would buy the Forest team. He would then sign a lifelong contract with Twain, and the breach of contract damages on both sides would be as high as ten trillion pounds. No matter what kind of player Twain wanted, he would provide the money to purchase them without hesitation and never bargain with the other clubs. But Twain must successfully lead the Forest team to become the best team in the world, win all the championships, surpass Manchester United and Liverpool to become Britain’s most successful club, and surpass Real Madrid to become the most successful club in the world. As a thank-you, he would ask Twain to drink at Uncle Burns’ bar for seven days and seven nights in a row.
When Tang En heard the strange ideas of this little child, he burst into laughter and was delighted. Consequently, Michael yelled at him,
Don’t mock my son’s dreams!
Tang En took a step forward when he thought of these past events. He wanted to see Gavin one last time. But just when his hand was on the white cloth, a hoarse tired voice suddenly came from a corner in the room.
Don’t look, his face was crushed…
He was startled by this sudden voice, and then he paused and withdrew his hand. Tang En looked over and saw Michael sitting on the ground in the dim corner with his back against the corner wall.
There were chairs for people to rest on in the room, and yet he sat on the ground with his back against the wall. His hair was messy and plastered to his head. His sweat had been blown dried by the hospital air-conditioning, but his face was still dirty. Tang En could not see clearly, but he could guess what was on his face. He seemed to be have aged 20 years overnight, and he looked at the doorway listlessly.
It was shocking to see the messy white coats stained with large swaths of blood.
In Tang En’s 26 years of life, it was not the first time he had to face such a thing. A life closely related to himself had suddenly vanished like a magician’s trick, and, with a bang, the dove was transformed into nothing.
But he still did not know how to comfort the loved ones who had suffered the loss.
When he stood in front of this man in agony, he tried to say something, but no words came out. So he stayed silent.
On the way to the hospital, John gave him a rough account of what happened. Because he was not there himself at that time, his details were vague.
Mark Hodge’s gang and the Millwall’s hooligan gang, the Bushwackers, launched a fierce
Battle of Honor
at an agreed place. The fans of the winning Forest team loudly jeered at Millwall and the Millwall fans fought back with their fists. As a result, Hodge’s firm could not withstand the Millwall football hooligans’ fierce offensive and began to disperse. It was followed by a small-scale urban battle chase.
While Mark Hodge’s men were running away, they crashed into Gavin Bernard on the street, waiting for his father to buy a magazine, and he was knocked to the ground. Amidst those Forest fans’ bid to escape, and the clamoring Millwall football hooligans in pursuit, no one noticed the thin figure lying on the ground. The crowd trampled his body as they passed and continued shouting as they ran away.
Tang En did not want to recall the specific details. It was too brutal.
The room was quiet again with only a slight hum from the air conditioner. Tang En suddenly felt stifled in the room, as if little Bernard’s soul was wrapping him, not letting him breathe.
He looked again at Michael who sat in the corner as if his soul had been taken away from him. Tang En quietly left.
The hallway was empty, and the pale white light could not shine into the morgue. Tang En felt a fire burning in his chest and surging upwards. That stifling feeling of oppression did not lessen, instead it tightened even more.
He decided to leave that place.
As he walked near the hospital gate, he saw a taxi parked on the roadside. A panicked woman ran out of the car and stumbled into the hospital building. Then Walker came out of the car and quickly followed.
Tang En hid himself in the shadows. He did not want anyone to see him. Just as the taxi was about to leave, he hurried up and stopped it with his hand.
The usually bustling Forest bar was very quiet that evening. There were not many customers. Those people who were still there drank with their heads down and talked in low voices. It did not look like a bar where fans gathered. The owner of the bar, Kenny Burns, sat behind the bar and wiped a glass repeatedly. But it was clear that his mind was not on the glass. He was looking toward the door, but he looked like he was in a daze.
The door opened, and the expression in his eyes changed. But it was not Tony Twain or Des Walker who came in. It was Bill who was always with Michael and John.
Upon entry, Bill looked around the bar strangely. The Forest team had finished the regular match season today. Everyone would have come to the bar to drink, chat, and celebrate. How could it be so quiet? He looked up at Burns and found that Burns was watching him. So he raised his hand and said hello.
Hey, Kenny. Do you know what happened? Where’s everyone?
Burns replied,
They didn’t tell you?
No. I just came here after dinner… Oh, that’s right. I saw Tony on my way here.
Burns stared at Bill.
He asked me where Mark Hodge and the others usually gather. I don’t think he looked very well… Uh, Kenny, what’s going on?
Bill was half-finished speaking when he found that the customers in the bar had stood up from their seats. The way they stared at him made him shudder.
Burns got up, leaned across the bar and grabbed Bill’s clothes.
Was he alone?
Bill nodded, and he was scared. What happened today? Everyone was acting all weird.
Bstard!
Burns whispered.
Bill, if anything happens to Tony… Damn it! We must bring him back! Goddamn it!
He ran out as he finished his words.
Bill looked at the strange scene, utterly confused.
