Although the bite of winter had retreated somewhat, early spring still put forward the odd bitter morning. The overcast streets of Grimsby town sparkled in a silver frost. A frost that should have cautioned the school run traffic to take it easy but as expected, it was dutifully ignored. The sound of angry horns blared out, quickly followed by the squeal of tires and the thud of bumpers on bodywork. Driver doors were thrust open and curses spilled into the chilly air.

Eight-year-old Joseph East sped past the automotive fracas unaware, his mind solely focused on his own misery. He smacked his foot hard against the pavement and propelled himself faster and faster forward on his silver stunt scooter. The speed, the twists and jumps he performed on and off the curb, helped him forget the problems he suffered at home.

With every trick landing, shockwaves shot up through the scooter and into Joseph's hands, forcing him to wince in pain. The wrist his mother had grasped in anger that breakfast, throbbed maddingly. She had been upset with her good for nothing boyfriend and his wandering eyes and as usual, Joseph paid the price for that anger. He knew from experience that his wrist would bruise badly and so had pulled on a jumper and rolled down the sleeves. He didn't want his friends and teachers to notice and feel sorry for him. The jumper would hide the marks and he, as always would lie and make excuses, saying he had fallen off his scooter.

Life was tough but Joseph didn't know any different. He was used to looking after himself, having to drag himself out of bed, feed himself breakfast and get to school, dressed and on time. His mother had never had time for him, never mothered or cared for him. His mother only ever cared for the social security cheque each week and the drugs it bought when her back wasn't enough.

Joseph's absent father, a shoplifter, drug dealer, had left before Joseph had been born. The subsequent string of desperate lovers his mother paraded through their lives more than made up for the lack of fatherly abuse.

And so for Joseph, his scooter was his life, his scooter made him happy and showing off his tricks to his friends was what got him through each day.

Joseph stomped on the scooter's rear wheel and skidded to a halt just short of rush hour traffic racing up and down Freeman Street manically. He sniffed back his breakfast tears and patiently waited for his moment to cross the road. As he waited for a gap in the traffic, Joseph wondered if his mother would even care if he got himself run over and killed. With another tear threatening to spill, he lifted his foot and readied to kick back and go for the next gap. Further down the road, he could see the number 3 town bus pull away from the curb and join the traffic.

That was his chance and he went for it. Diving in front of the fast approaching bus, Joseph scooted as hard as he could. Car horns blared and tires squealed, this time for him as he darted across the road and onto the far pavement. With a grin on his face, he ignored the angry calls and zoomed ever fast towards school.

Joseph landed another trick on his scooter as he passed by the brightly colored Salvation army building to his left. A couple more kicks and he rolled level with the long dead art's college. Joseph looked up at the tall, imposing brick building with its many smashed windows, boarded up doors and shivered at the creepy sight. Up above, he could see a row of slate tiles hanging for dear life along the gutter edge, waiting to come sything down with the slightest breeze. Joseph hated the building and always scooted faster past here.

With an extra hard kick, Joseph shot as fast as possible along the old building. Almost clear of its shadow, he slowed and thought he could hear someone call out from the nearest shattered window. Dropping his heel onto the rear wheel of his scooter, he slowed down more and listened intently. There it was again, the sound of someone coughing painfully and then whispering.

"Helppp, Pleeeaase, somebody help meee!!"

Spooked by the strange voice, Joseph took off, he didn't intend to spend another second there. For all he knew, there was a monster inside or even the devil himself. He was glad to see the buildings far corner but a sense of guilt made him slow to a stop. He couldn't help but think,

"What if it isn't a monster? What if it's a real person who needs my help? If I don't help, they might die or something!"

Joseph finally decided to have a quick check, just to be sure. With a kick to the back of his scooter, he expertly spun it around and jumped back onboard. Cautiously, he rolled towards the smashed window.

"Hu..hullo!" Joseph called out fearfully "HULLO is someone in there" there came no response.

The front wheel of Joseph's scooter banged against the red brick wall below the large drafty window. He let it go and reached up on tiptoes to peek over the windowsill. It was dark and still inside. It was impossible to see who or what had called for help. No matter how hard he stared, he couldn't see a thing. Scared, he decided that it was best he go and tell a teacher and let them deal with who or what was in there but as he was about to turn away, Joseph froze, the voice returned and it was louder and creepier than ever.

"Pleeeaase help meee!"

Peeking back over the sill, Joseph stared into the shadows and this time he could see something moving at the far back of the large room. A dark undefined shape crawled out from the shadows and as it did, it grew larger, much larger. Now Joseph could make out details, arms legs, and a terrifying head, the thing was red and shiny as if it was wet all over. For the rest of his life, he would always think of it as the bloody skull.

The strange and scary figure crawled a little further before falling completely to the floor, groaning horribly. It reached out a hand desperately to Joseph and began to scream at him.

"HELPPPPP MEEEEE, PLEEEEASE!"

Black smoke and bright yellow flames began to billow out from the doorway behind the gruesome sight and within that smoke Joseph watched as another figure peer back at him with bright white eyes. Suddenly the air around Joseph picked up and rushed through the open window into the room. In a rush of wind the thick smoke was gathered up and along with the dark staring figure, disappeared back through the doorway.

The sound of howling echoed around the room as the wind grew faster. Joseph, no longer frozen in horrified fascination, screamed in terror, turned and bolted away. He didn't notice that his backpack had fallen from his scooter's handlebar into the long grass beneath the window. All he cared about was getting out of there.

He did not stop until he reached his school. He didn't want to be outside anymore, where he felt scared and vulnerable. He raced inside to his classroom, dumped his scooter and sat shaking at his desk and stared blankly at his teacher, Miss Forsythe, as she read out the morning register.

As the lesson began he suddenly realized his school bag was missing. Blood ran from his face and with a sickly feeling in his stomach, he knew he must have lost it at the old college building, beneath the window. There was no chance of him going back there, ever!

Like most children, Joseph believed in monsters and devils and bad, bad people. He believed that if he did a bad thing or told a lie, he would get a beating. Just as his neglectful mother and any one of her numerous drive through lovers would often prove to him.

Joseph had learned from an early age to keep his nose out and his gob shut! Scared half to death, he decided never to tell of what he had heard or seen that morning. It would remain his secret!

Lost in worried thought, it suddenly dawned on him that his friends had all jumped up and run to the classroom window. They were excited to see and hear the sirens of two enormous red fire engines speeding past. Joseph made his way to the window, peered out and watch as the engines vanished around the corner. Looking up over the nearby rooftops he could see thick gray smoke rising into the air. He gulped with renewed fear, that was the direction of the derelict college. He quietly sat back down, opened his books and hoped everyone wouldn't notice how scared he was.

-------------------

"Sirens, bloody sirens. What the fu...!"

PEEL spun around in his office chair, almost knocking over his glass of whiskey and looked out of the window to the carpark below. He couldn't see any movement, all the patrol cars were still in place. It had been a quiet morning for once. Normally, Peel wouldn't hear the call of sirens, he'd long grown used to them and now could filter them out at will but this was different.

The penny dropped, the sirens that had disrupted his flow of thought were coming from a distance and were different. Fire engines, he guessed. The brigade was close by. Over the rooftop of the Tesco supermarket opposite, Peel could see a large cloud of black smoke rising high into the air and thought,

"Shit, that doesn't look good, it looks like it's going to be damn right ugly!"

He looked back down at the paperwork on his desk, which had been boring him to tears for the last two days and with a flip, closed the green folder. Picking up the biege phone, Peel dialed 142 and waited for the internal call to be answered. No sooner than dialed, a voice answered,

"Yes Boss?"

Peel, eager to get out and about, barked "Muck, find out what kicking off over Freeman Street way, there's a fire. Maybe it need investigating?" With out waiting for a response, he slammed the phone receiver back into its cradle.

Peel placed the green folder and the now empty glass in the desk draw and slammed that too. He desperately wanted to get out of the office and away from all these God damn reports.

After his last case (Meridith:1882) the Grimsby Gouger copycat, Peel had taken some leave to get his shit together and to finally sell his mother's house, their family home. He didn't want to think about his dead sister or all the other implications that murder case had had on his life. He just wanted to get back in the field where he thrived.

With his jacket slung over his arm and car keys in his fist, Peel headed out of his office and skipped down the tiled stairs. Meeting muck who was on the way up, Peel said,
"Come on Muck let's see whats brewing"

Behind Peels back, Muck smiled and thought "About time!"

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