Chasing The Unknown

It reads strange but I think we sort of all are to a certain extent. I certainly am chasing something I don’t know what it is, what it looks like or even smells like. One of my first thoughts about it concludes it must be like I’m in the pursuit of happiness. We all are. Are we? Of course happiness is the ultimate objective. It’s getting to the point to be happy and how we judge it. Money seems to bring a degree of happiness. I know if I had a lot of it I’d be happy. The main reasons being my financial future was secure, I would have the confidence to experiment with things knowing the end of the day I can pay for most things within reason and not worry about anything else. Also I could share this financial security with family and friends. That would make me happy. So I take it that is what happiness is, striving for loads of money as much as I can get. Yet, would I be happy to get money if I’d have to do a job I hate. For example, being chief programmer on C++. The thought of staring at Microsoft Notepad on the computer all day writing code that’s about as interesting as the number of socks I own (I have 23 pairs by the way). I couldn’t handle working like that for the prime hours of the day – of my life! Even for £1,000,000 per annum. So this must mean I’m looking for something that I can do with my day that will earn me copious amounts of money. Isn’t that the crux of this entry and probably the thoughts that have fluttered in and out of our minds at least once in the last 6 months? Speaking from my point of view and experience I don’t think I’m really doing anything stunningly interesting or earning a vast amount of money. It’s not boring or ill paid it’s just, it’s just that I think there’s something out there in life that’s better. I’m a believer that some where out there is something better, like some sort of sequence of enlightenments on my life that will open up ideas and ways of living this thing that’s called ‘life’. Like I wrote earlier, I haven’t got a clue what or where it is. This is when I get frustrated because I can’t sniff out the trail, not even get a whiff of the scent but it’s there. It’s almost like how Sam Beckett must have felt in Quantum leap, “…always hoping that his next leap, was the leap home.” Yet I don’t want to finally find it when I’m 58 years old, I want it now but I know realistically I could find it tomorrow or never find it at all so life in ‘present’ must be lived and therefore I’ll carry on doing my thing. I won’t though give up on my thoughts and perhaps more importantly turn these thoughts into actions and perhaps maybe carve my own way. Hmm, now that sounds a good idea. I think I’ll sleep on that though.


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Laying on his bed Yannish tries to sleep but can’t. Keith had gone, he gave his advice and thought it best to flee. It was unlike Yannish to act like this, even Yannish thought the same thing. Keith’s words had sobered him and decided to take advice but getting to sleep wasn’t easy. He wonders where the stranger is right now, is he counting his money thinking it was a job well done or was he thinking it should have been a more successful plundering. He wanted to know badly, and it was probably the anxiety to find out that was keeping him awake. That and the fact he considered him self split in two, one half crying out for help, not complex psychological evaluation but an ear that will listen to him spill it all out. Blurting bits out to Keith was a surprising start but he wanted to speak to Karen. She was always very considerate of his fears. Of course she would tease him about his fear for sharks, the likelihood of him encountering one in an urban built up area was as likely as Jeffrey Archer receiving a knighthood. It was with the more immediate less solid fears that she helped him with. When studying for his exams, he would read and work and read then work more. Time would disappear between them but she understood his intentions, even when Yannish didn’t. He would ask her why he was doing all this studying, all this reading. What for? He could be spending his time with a beautiful young woman instead of turning the pages of smudged library books. And for what? Yet she knew that his questions on the future were just his way of telling her how scared he is of it. The fact it is an area no one knows about, the tramp, the politician, even the aristocrat have no say on what is going to happen. She would a reassure him that no one knows the future but by studying, by contributing to bettering yourself you’ll increase your chances of making it prosperous. Yannish accepted this, he would look at her in utter amazement how someone so beautiful physically can only be overshadowed by the inner beauty and wisdom she possessed within. He couldn’t comprehend it and decided not to try to understand but kiss her instead.

The only thing stopping Yannish calling her now was that the other half of him, the brooding side was determined to investigate this robbery further. Any chance to find something about this cretin is something worth looking for. The fear of death still burns within him and he doesn’t know what to do. He picks up his phone and brings up Karen’s number again and pushes dial.

…

“Hello”

“Hi Karen, it’s me.”

“Yannish you alright?”

“I want to speak to you. Can I do that?”

“uh, yeah sure. Is everything all right.”

“Yeah, it is. I just need to talk to you. When can you be free?”

“I can be free at 12:30. Where do you want to meet?”

“Where we always do, used to, I mean See you then.”

He struggled not to start talking about it, he didn’t want to get her worried or hear what she had to say over the phone. He wasn’t going to sleep and to appease his ever growing feeling to find the stranger he decided to visit the garage again and see what Conrad and the others were up to. They might know something, then after he’d meet Karen at the park. He got up to take a shower.

The garage was unsurprisingly closed. Police tape had cornered off the vicinity and two police cars were parked on the forecourt. There were a few members of the public taking interest of what was going on, all behind the tape barrier. A policeman appeared from the bushes with a sniffer dog that had its nose all over the floor moving along from side to side. The people talking amongst themselves had decided that it was a fatal unsuccessful robbery and that the robber had fled in his car long ago. Yannish appeared amongst the crowd, he felt a lot better since a hot shower and a shave, he still hadn’t eaten but he was never a big eater. He listened intently to the people bouncing ideas off each other, then gradually building up their own hysteria and finally climaxing with the doom this part of town was soon to experience.

“Do you know what, I can’t believe someone was murdered in the garage, can it be true? This town has fallen down in standards the last fifteen years.” A weather-beaten looking man in a gruff voice says.

“I agree, there’s robbery, mugging and it’s escalating to murder in a garage.” Concurred a woman standing next to the man.

Yannish, satisfied that the accurate news hadn’t been made public yet set off round the back of the garage to see if he could find anything. He walked back towards the houses and up into the bushes so that he’d be able to get closer and within the police tape. He walked through the trees, bushes crunching his feet on the twigs until he pushed them aside to find himself in his old smoking oasis. He looked around to see it was still the same, nothing had changed since he was banned to go there for a smoke last month. He wanted to sit down and roll a cigarette for nostalgic purposes but he knew this would attract attention. It looked like the police hadn’t discovered this place yet from the fact that his old butts hadn’t been picked up. He thought he’d help them out and collected them all and placing them in his pocket. He made his way to the garage from the back. There was another police car round the back which meant immediately that they were close by. There was no point him trying to enter the garage from the back, if they caught him he’d only be taken to the station again and he’d probably have to endure another interview too. No, as an alternative he would try and find the trail of the thief from when he got away. He turned around and pushed himself through a cluster of bushes heading upwards.

Finding the trail wasn’t too difficult as he’d walked through here many times before. Once he got to the bottom of the heath he wondered whether he should visit his three chums first or venture into the woods where he got knocked out. The whole event in him being knocked out seemed strange, he had only just entered the woods when it happened. He tried to recall if what had hit him was flat or had texture, whether it felt cold or warm, yet nothing really sprung to mind other the that it felt heavy crashing against the back of his head. He decided he wanted to try and find out what it was that hit him so going to the woods was going to be his first stop. Trudging his way through the long grass he looks at the ground swaying his head from side to side so that his eyes might pick up on something. He notices his foot print. He’s able to identify it by the pattern of the imprint, he bends down to touch it. The dirt is cold and crumbly but he can’t help but allow the imprint to relive part of last night when he flew down the heath, charging forward to catch him. He wasn’t scared then, he wanted to get this man so much that he forgot just how fast he ran, how much the adrenaline must have been pumping through him. He flicks the dirt back to the ground. Yannish stands back up and looks around, hoping to see some police officers but also hoping they don’t see him. Yet there is no one here, it’s almost like they’ve forgotten about this place. An armed robbery is a serious crime and therefore a proper investigation needs to be carried out, not just strap a bit of police tape around a few trees. He carries on walking towards the wood until he notices more of his footsteps. This must have been where he entered.

Even though it was morning the wood still managed to encapsulate Yannish in almost utter darkness. He used his mobile phone as a light by pressing the keypad frequently to illuminate the screen. There was no chance of finding a path way now, everything was covered in leaves, twigs and mud. His only chance was to locate the dying tree he stood by before getting knocked out. He walks forward but more cautiously examining every tree he passes. The phone is unable to brighten up a vast area so to check each tree he needs to be extremely close to it. His chin scrapes the bark while he checks. After looking around ten trees he realises how stupid this feels and futile it is. He might as well go and come back with a torch. Agreeing with this he slumps himself on the last tree he checked and slides himself down, pulls out his rolling tobacco and begins to roll a cigarette. Sprinkling the tobacco on the rolling paper he hears a cracking sound. He quickly turns round to where the noise is coming from but he can’t see anything past a few metres. Another cracking sound reverberates around and Yannish gets up now leaving his packet of tobacco on the floor. He starts to think who it is. If it’s the stranger, then now matter what happens he’ll get to see his face. Even if he’s wearing the clown mask again it’ll be the first thing he’ll lunge at just so he can catch even a glimpse of the face. If it’s the police then, well, he’s going to look very suspicious. It could be Conrad, George or Peter though. It’s likely they would have moved to the wood knowing the likely hood of the police conducting a search of the area. Yannish clasps his cheeks with his hands and rubs them up and down so his stumble can tickle his palms. He walks from behind the tree.

“Hello?”

All the background noises seem to have been removed.

“Hello?”
He repeats but this time with a bit more force so it sounds like it was coming from someone who was confident in themselves. Yet this wasn’t the case, Yannish, didn’t like the stillness and calmness, from this breeds terror. Not there yet but aware of the path it leads too he cries out even more forcefully.

“Hello, is anyone there?”

“Yes.” Says a voice in a whisper.

Silence.

Another cracking sound of breaking twigs can be heard only a few meters behind Yannish so he turns round. He pulls put his mobile press the keypads and raises it to the air. He doesn’t know who is there but if it is the thief he’ll charge at him and go straight for the larynx. Allowing such dark thoughts to invade his mind gives him a boost of confidence as he takes a step forward so he can see who is there. Waving the phone above him so he can see a wider rang he sees Conrad and Peter walking cautiously towards him lowering the phone, slightly disappointed it wasn’t the clown man.

“What are you doing here Yannish? We thought you would be at the police station locked up in one of their cells” Said a rather surprised looking Conrad.

Once again Yannish could see Peter evaluating the situation, thinking of reasons why he wasn’t there but here. Before he could open his mouth to answer Conrad’s question Yannish beats him to it.

“Looking for clues. The police are a joke. An absolute pack of jokers…they completely let me down..”

Noticing Yannish about to erupt in anger Conrad gestures they sit down on a large fallen branch beside them. Yannish agrees while running his fingers through his hair.

“They took me down asked me about six questions then let me go. I even had to help prompt the interviewer. They don’t give a shit.” Says Yannish about to carry on when Conrad interrupts him.

“Yannish, haven’t I told you this governmental tool doesn’t care for people like us. They care only for the rich and to convince them to support them. What can we give them?”

“Votes!” Cried Yannish noticing Conrad was about to divulge about his opinions on the government again.

“They don’t care about us. We give them a paltry vote and let me ask you this how many times have any of us exercised this vote when asked to?”

“I haven’t yet had the chance too.” Retorted Yannish quickly becoming irate with Conrad’s attempt to politicise the situation.

“Ok, ok, you have a valid reason but neither myself, Peter or George have exercised the right for over fifteen years. And it’s because of reasons like this. I’ve told you umpteen times how we got in this situation and now you’re experiencing it first hand.”

Yannish looked at Conrad, he disliked the talk of politics yet something was beginning to annoy him that he might have a point.

“Yannish, we’ve been here for over ten hours and no one has come by other than two men walking their dogs. An armed robbery is a really serious act yet no one from the police have seemed it fit to check beyond the garage, not even to the heath. And if they are coming it’ll take them at least till tomorrow to even get to the woods and by then key pieces of evidence may have disappeared. Evidence like hair from this guy which has now blown away with the wind and landed somewhere of no use to you and them. You’re on your own Yannish. They will look but it’ll only be due to an obligation on procedures.

“Shut the fuck up. If you really thought they didn’t care about the robbery and wouldn’t bother searching any further than the garage then why did you leave your den? Why did you come into the wood?” Shouts Yannish.

“We haven’t left out den, as you call it. George is their now. Both Conrad and I decided to do some investigating of our own. We wanted to see if we could find anything that could help trace this person. We’ve been looking around the area for a few hours and all we’ve found are foot prints.” Replies Peter who is calmly staring at him.

Yannish looks to the floor and then back up to meet Peter and Conrad’s stare.

“Look, I’m sorry for shouting. I just came here to do the same thing myself. It’s just so dark around these parts that I can’t find the dead tree where I remember being last.” Yannish explains rather remorsefully.

“When we found you Yannish it was a over there.” Said Conrad who points over to his left.

Yannish flies up from his position he runs over to the place they found him. First he looks around on the ground seeing if he can see anything. Then he gets on his hands and knees and begins inspecting the ground carefully, half hoping to see a hair, a piece of clothing a bullet. Anything, anything to work on. Yet the ground looks as hegemonic and plain as it should be. Finally admitting nothing is there, he starts to feel the anger boil inside him again from his lack of discovery. He turns to the two vagabonds.

“You mentioned footprints. Where?”

“They’re over there about a five minute walk. We’ll take you there.” Says Conrad already starting to get up. He helps pull up Peter and all three start to walk deeper into the wood.

“Yannish can I ask what you are planning to do?” Said Peter.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, yesterday you finished your last exam. You are a free person now, free from the bondage of education should you choose it.”

“I chose that bondage Peter, after sixteen you can leave education. I didn’t. I just didn’t know what I wanted to do but knew leaving was too early.”

“So you are leaving for university?”

“No, no, no. I’m not. I decided not to apply. I don’t want to go. I guess I’m on your side here, I think the government has got it wrong with further education. Allowing us to take out huge loans to live and pay for our time at university. I will be spending the rest of my life paying it off. Yet I wonder how they managed to pay for those students in the 70’s and 80’ even most of the 90’s. The only conclusion is that not as many people carried on in education and the places were more competitive. I know they’ve reintroduced grants to a certain extent but I feel there could be better ways in qualifying for a grant.”

“You don’t think you’ll qualify?”

“I probably would but it wouldn’t be enough. And besides I chose not to go because I wanted to go straight into work. I had been applying for jobs since last month but no one had got back to me. I was going to spend today looking for jobs and visiting companies to see what they had on offer. However, things change. I think I’m changing and all I want now is to find the fucker who robbed the garage. The rest can wait.”

“You can’t let that event change your outlook on life.” Said Conrad in a rather sympathetic tone.

Yannish shot him a look, a weary yet menacing one. Conrad felt Yannish was letting him know that he too had a scar of life, be it his first, but he can talk about robberies now with a certain conviction that only someone else who had experienced them can empathise with.

“It has. I didn’t want it too but it has. That person didn’t just steal from the bank he stole from me. I don’t feel the same and I hate the person who has done this to me. I want to catch him so bad.”

Conrad looks to Peter who is looking straight back at him, worried at what seems to be brewing in the young man.

“Yes, but what would you do if you meet him? You cannot tackle someone with a gun.”

“I don’t care I will run at him, I will go straight for the throat. Besides I don’t want to kill him, I want answers. I know I need to beat him down a bit first. I’ve seen him first hand, he’s not that much bigger than me. I little fuller maybe...”

“There are other ways to inflict pain other than violence Yannish. If you do get him, let me know as I’d like to speak to him also.”

“Why do you want to speak to him?”

“Because I want to help you if I can, I can see what this person is doing to you. I don’t like it.”

Yannish opens his mouth to retaliate but nothing comes out. His mind acknowledges Peter’s observation and thinks him correct. He isn’t the same Yannish 24 hours ago. Instead he morphs his open mouth into a smile at Peter. All three walk on in silence.

“They’re over there.” Says Conrad nodding his head.

Yannish scrambles a few feet and sees a set of foot prints in the mud. He looks down to check the pattern, he turns his sole and notices they are different. In fact the size of the print is larger. Maybe he is a size ten even 11 where he is only 9.

“These aren’t mine.” He says gleefully.

He carefully walks around the prints to see where they lead but after these prints are twigs and leaves and no sign of another. He goes back to the prints and thinks could these be the robber’s. It must be him, no one else really goes in the woods, not even people wanting to walk their dogs. Only Conrad and Peter.

“Show me the soles of your shoes?”

Conrad and Peter lift up a leg each and bend it round so that it’s pointing in Yannish’s direction. They lock arms and lean against each other so that they both don’t fall over. He walks up to them and checks the pattern on each one/ None one them match.

“I didn’t doubt you. I just wanted to check that you hadn’t made the mistake of finding your own footprints.” Says Yannish rather unconvincingly to the two men.

“It’s ok.” Replies Peter.

“So we’ve found where these footprints seem to be heading further in to the wood. This person didn’t really know where he was going if he headed that way. The quickest way out of here is probably to turn left.” Says Conrad.