Straw Man

In Chapter Three: Fionn Rafferty is being held by a man hiding in the family barn. He has given the man water and wants to help with the wound bleeding through a sleeve of the man’s anorak, but is refused; and the stranger assures Fionn he’ll be on his way when the rain stops. The gardai (policemen) arrive and, with Fionn’s father, come to check for Mick Bellaghey, a wanted man who just recently escaped capture at a farm in the next town. Fionn is shocked the man lied about his name and, even moreso, that "Mick" has requested transport to a central hospital in the area’s largest hospital, and plans to take Fionn as cover.

“Have a titter of wit, Bellaghey. You’ll get to the hospital, and then what? Sure we’ll be comin’ for ye while you’re there gettin’ that bullet out of your arm. The right, is it?” asked the garda.

“I’m not a fool,” Mick replied. “Why do ye think I want the boy with me? He’ll be my assurance until I get on my way after gettin’ fixed up.”

Fionn, already unnerved at the demands Mick had made and now worried on learning he was being taken with him, asked, the fear rising in his throat, “What are ye goin’ to do with me, mister? Why can’t ye just get in the ambulance yerself and leave me here. They’ll keep their word.”

“Bollocks,” he replied, angrily. “That lot’ll not let me anywhere near the ambulance if I don’t give them a reason to stay back. I’m sorry but you’ll have to be that reason.”

Fionn paused. “You’re not goin’ to hurt me, right?” A moment passed, then he asked a bit louder, “Right?”

“I’m not of course,” Mick said. “But they don’t know that now, do they? They think I’m some merciless gorm out to destroy the world around me.” He added, “And I’m not that. I’ve only defended myself and those like me.”

This confused Fionn. He wondered who ‘those like’ him might be. He breathed a bit more easily, though, relieved it seemed he’d get out of this safely. He wanted to know more, but decided he'd be better off not learning too much about the situation.

Mick stood up beside Fionn and slowly raised his head to the height where it could just be seen over the stall bars.

“We’re agreed?” he called to the men. “Ye’ll let me on through, and away, and the boy with me?”

“We always keep our word, sure you know that.”

“Ah now, ye’re not known for your word, I’d say,” Mick answered.

He bent his knees a bit and looked directly into Fionn’s eyes. “We’ll be goin’ now. Just keep close and do nothin’ mad and ye’ll be grand.” He studied Fionn’s expression, now fully visible in the light streaming in as the sun’s earliest rays pierced through the entranceway and the cracks in the barn walls that were always going to be sealed “next year.”

“Go on, now. Ye’ll have clear passage. How is the wee lad?

Padraic shouted to his son, “Fionn, are ye alright, son? Not hurt?”

“I’m grand, Da,” came the retort. Fionn wondered why he’d said that. He was anything but grand, and just wanted this misbegotten adventure to end.

With his good arm pulling Fionn close, Mick stood up slowly. He pushed Fionn out ahead of him, then, with an effort, suddenly displayed a gun that was now held to the boy’s head. Fionn gasped when he saw the gun. He'd never considered that Mick might be armed.

“We’re comin’ out," Mick announced, his voice hoarse from exhaustion and the dampness in the barn. “Stay back, all of ye.”

The pair inched out, Mick holding Fionn tightly to him. There was a sudden joint intake of breath among the men, and then a mutual gasp on seeing the gun that was held perilously close to Fionn’s head.

Once they were fully in view of the men standing near the entranceway, Mick spoke slowly, but firmly. “Clear the way, all of ye.” He could see the front bumper and the last letters of “AmbulANCE”, and began to move them both towards it.

“Don’t worry, son, “ Padraic said as calmly as he could muster, “ye’ll be grand. Just do as you’re told for now.”

His breath trapped in his throat, Fionn didn’t reply. He looked at his father and smiled weakly. Outside the doorway, he could see Toby lying beside the vehicle, as if waiting to escort the pair.

The pair passed the men, with Mick clutching Fionn, and shuffled into the yard. There was an ambulance attendant standing at the back of the vehicle. “Do ye think thon gobshite is a garda in disguise?” he muttered, his head pressed close to Fionn’s head.

“I don’t know, mister.” Fionn’s heart was racing.

At hearing Fionn’s voice, Toby ran to him and jumped up. “Get that dog away,” Mick demanded. “Ye don’t want him hurt,” he yelled to the men now clustered about the barn entrance.

Fionn did his best to push Toby away, regretting he’d needed to be stern with him, as he'd never so much as raised his voice to his dog. To his relief, Toby got down and sat in front of them. “Good boy,” said Fionn, doing his best to assure the dog everything was fine.

“Ye’ll be takin’ off that jacket,” Mick demanded of the attendant. “And slowly. Nothing funny,” he added. Fionn could feel the muzzle of the gun lightly brushing against his hair. “Let me get a look at what you’ve got under there. It wouldn’t be a gun ye have now?” The ambulance attendant lifted his arms up as if to prove he was who he was supposed to be.

“Turn you around now,” Mick said, wanting to ensure a weapon hadn’t be concealed.

As he spoke, Mick was swiveling back and forth between the attendant and the barn door, a firm grip on Fionn and the gun clearly visible. “Stand back from that rear door,” he ordered. The attendant immediately complied and backed away, leaving more than enough space for Mick and Fionn to get past.

The rear door was wide open. Turning sideways to keep an eye on the others, Mick pulled Fionn with him as he backed into the stretcher bay. “Close the door,” he told the man, “slowly, and then back off.”

When the door closed, the driver turned on the engine. Mick pushed Fionn as he turned to face the people in the cab. They felt a slight movement as the attendant got into the passenger side.

Fionn had hoped Mick would relax his hand on the gun, but it was still leveled at his head. When the ambulance began to turn its way out of the yard to the lane Mick, keeping his eyes fixed on the two in the front, finally lowered his arm.

“Don’t be getting’ any ideas,” he muttered to Fionn, then looked down at his blood-soaked sleeve. “I’ll be glad to get rid of this,” he said.

“Is it a bullet ye’ve got?” Fionn asked. He tried to see the arm better, but there was just a small tear in the fabric of the anorak, almost completely invisible because of the blood. “Is it bleedin’? Does it hurt much?” Fionn wanted to know. He was careful not to move too quickly as he pointed a finger at the hole.

“It hurts like bloody hell,” Mick confirmed. "But I think the belt stopped the bleedin’.”

Fionn could see the man’s belt had been used as a tourniquet. He raised his eyes to Mick’s face, and could see the pain, and the fear in his eyes.

“They’ll fix ye up at the hospital,” Fionn said, hoping to sound positive and comforting.

“If we ever get to the hospital…”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Fionn quizzed. “We’re goin’ the right way, I’m sure.” He looked out at the neighbours’ homes as they drove by.

“Don’t trust these fellas with anything,” came the reply. “It’s hardly ever they’re true to their word. Will ye stop talkin’ now. I need to think.”

Silenced, Fionn looked at the floor and suddenly noticed the rapid beating of his heart, though he was a bit less frightened now that things were underway. He was fairly certain Mick wouldn’t hurt him. He’d been far too nice so far to think that. And, despite himself and his situation, Fionn wanted to trust him.

They rode along for about 10 minutes, the pair sitting quietly with their backs against the wall, a stretcher parked just beside them. Fionn saw that Mick now had the gun pointed in the direction of the men in front of them. It made him feel a bit less anxious. He told himself they would arrive at the hospital soon and, when the staff brought Mick in to the A&E, he’d be freed. Or would he?