Ashes to Ashes

The two men jogged up the street, glancing at each other worriedly from time to time.

And then, suddenly, gunshots ripped through the air. Darragh threw himself down onto the floor. Glancing round, he saw several soldiers and police heading up the street towards him. He crawled over to Oisin.

"Oisin, quick! They're coming! Get up! Oisin!" He shook his friend, and then his heart skipped a beat.

Oisin was lying in a pool of blood.

"No," Darragh whispered, rolling his friend over. Oisin's eyes were closed and there was a trickle of blood coming out of his mouth. "NO!"

Darragh, his hands shaking, reached over and pressed two fingers up against the side of Oisin's neck. There was no pulse.

Darragh staggered up and backed away, and as he turned to head away, he glanced back at Oisin, who was still lying sprawled on the floor. And he knew that was the last time he was going to see his best friend.

-

Blinded by tears and shaking with sobs, Darragh managed to grip the fence and scramble over the high stone wall. He fell to the floor on the other side in a heap, retching because of the force of the sobs ripping through him.

He lay on the floor for what seemed like hours, sobbing and shaking. What was he going to do? His best friend … dead … gone …

Darragh couldn’t believe it. The grief that was overpowering him was so intense it was painful. His chest felt as though he had a belt wrapped around it, his head hurt, he was shaking, and his heart felt so cold.

Hours passed. Darragh was still lying on the floor, hugging himself and sobbing hysterically, when the back door opened.

"My God," someone said, and then that someone was at his side. Through his tears Darragh made out Diarmuid. He didn't want Diarmuid. He wanted Oisin.

"Oisin," was all he could splutter.

"Shh, I know, Darragh. I saw."

"You saw what happened?"

"No. I saw Oisin's … never mind. Come on, inside."

"He's dead, Diarmuid. Gone. Oisin's gone. What am I going to do? I can't go on without him. There's no point. I mean, he was my best friend! My best friend and he's gone! I'll never see him again! I'll never hear his laugh, or hear his voice, or goof about with him, or nothing like that …" Darragh was rambling as Diarmuid pulled the grieving man to his feet and gently guided him towards the back door of the house. "We did everything together, you know? And all those times we were on IRA business and he saved my ass … if it hadn't been for him I would have been dead long ago! And then when I was supposed to protect him, I didn’t do it! God damn it, Diarmuid, I didn't do it! I let him die! I should have looked out for him like he looked out for me! Why didn’t I help him? Why couldn't I save him?"

"It's not your fault, Darragh." Diarmuid said gently, guiding Darragh into the living room and sitting him on the sofa. "Sit here. I'm going to get you something sweet to drink."

Instantly Darragh started muttering again. Tears rolling down his cheeks, it seemed to be the only way he could cope with the pain and grief that was now ripping him apart from the inside.

"Why'd they have to kill him? He wasn't doing anything … I mean since when was running a crime? Why'd they have to hit him? All of the times they’ve missed us both and they had to hit him that one time … for fuck's sake we were so close to getting away! So close! We were nearly here; we could have made it … why didn’t we stay in that alley a little longer? Why didn’t we go another way? Why this one time did they have to have half-decent aim?"

Not really knowing what he was doing, Darragh reached for the TV controls and switched it on, subconsciously switching to the news channels. He was looking for a report on Oisin. He knew somewhere deep down that it wasn't going to be good for him but at the moment he didn’t care.

"Yeah he's dead." he said distractedly as a worried looking Diarmuid entered the room, holding a cup of tea with several sugars in it, for the shock. "They killed him." Darragh signalled to the news.

"I know, Darragh." Diarmuid said gently. He took Darragh's arm and gave him the cup. "Get that down you."

Darragh took a large gulp, and even though Diarmuid knew it would be piping hot, Darragh didn't seem to feel it at all.

"One of the bullets got him in the back and hit his heart and the other went straight through his head." Darragh said casually. "I mean, at least he died straight away. There was no suffering or nothing –" Darragh took another great gulp. " – it would have just been bang! Lights out."

"Shh, Darragh. Just drink that, all right?"

Darragh downed the rest of the sweet, hot liquid. Putting the cup on the floor, he sat silently, staring into space. The shaking gradually stopped as the sugar reached him, and then, unexpectedly, the younger man began sobbing hysterically again.

Diarmuid, feeling tears in his own eyes at the sight of the grieving friend, walked over and gently encouraged Darragh to lie down on the sofa, placing his coat around the broken form of the young man. After an hour or so, Darragh's sobs began to quieten, and then his breathing became deep.

Diarmuid sighed. He couldn’t kick Darragh out of the country now. God knows what he would do in this mood. It was going to be a long night.