The Last Crossing

Contents

1. Title Page
2. Dedication
3. Epigraph
4. The First Crossing
5. Chapter One
6. Chapter Two
7. Chapter Three
8. Chapter Four
9. Chapter Five
10. Chapter Six
11. Chapter Seven
12. Chapter Eight
13. Chapter Nine
14. Chapter Ten
15. Chapter Eleven
16. Chapter Twelve
17. Chapter Thirteen
18. Chapter Fourteen
19. Chapter Fifteen
20. Chapter Sixteen
21. Chapter Seventeen
22. Chapter Eighteen
23. Chapter Nineteen
24. Chapter Twenty
25. Chapter Twenty-One
26. Chapter Twenty-Two
27. Chapter Twenty-Three
28. Cross Country
29. Chapter Twenty-Four
30. Chapter Twenty-Five
31. Chapter Twenty-Six
32. Chapter Twenty-Seven
33. Chapter Twenty-Eight
34. Chapter Twenty-Nine
35. Chapter Thirty
36. Chapter Thirty-One
37. Chapter Thirty-Two
38. Chapter Thirty-Three
39. Chapter Thirty-Four
40. Chapter Thirty-Five
41. Chapter Thirty-Six
42. Chapter Thirty-Seven
43. Chapter Thirty-Eight
44. The Woods
45. Chapter Thirty-Nine
46. Chapter Forty
47. Chapter Forty-One
48. Chapter Forty-Two
49. Chapter Forty-Three
50. Chapter Forty-Four
51. Chapter Forty-Five
52. Chapter Forty-Six
53. Chapter Forty-Seven
54. Chapter Forty-Eight
55. Chapter Forty-Nine
56. Chapter Fifty
57. Chapter Fifty-One
58. Chapter Fifty-Two
59. Chapter Fifty-Three
60. Chapter Fifty-Four
61. Chapter Fifty-Five
62. Chapter Fifty-Six
63. The Last Crossing
64. Chapter Fifty-Seven
65. Chapter Fifty-Eight
66. Chapter Fifty-Nine
67. Acknowledgements
68. Copyright

The Last Crossing

Brian McGilloway

In loving memory of my father, Laurence

‘And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark’

Alfred Lord Tennyson

The First Crossing

Chapter One

Martin Kelly cried for his mother before he died.

His face was glazed with tears, his mouth a grotesque O as first he pleaded for his life and, when it became clear that they would not listen to him, called for his mother. Stripped naked, he knelt in the grave they had already dug for him. The light of the torch Tony held caught the shiny skin of the scar on his lower abdomen where he’d had his appendix out, standing out against the lividity of the bruising he carried there, his phallus shrivelled amongst the dark of his pubis at the outer edges of the glare.

Tony had wanted to cover him up, give him his coat to offer him some dignity, but Hugh had refused. He was aware of Karen next to him, her breathing quick and shallow as she watched, the black plastic bag of Martin’s clothes, which they had stripped from him, twisted in her grip.

Martin held out his bound hands in supplication, looking from one face to the next. ‘It wasn’t me,’ he said. ‘I didn’t do it.’

‘You’re a liar,’ Hugh spat.

‘I’m not,’ Martin sobbed. ‘I swear on me mother, I’m not.’

‘And you knew what would happen.’

It was then that Martin broke down, his body wracked with sobs that turned to retching. He vomited onto himself, half choking on it, the bile and saliva hanging in a lace from his chin to his chest. He made no effort to wipe it away.

‘Fuck this,’ Hugh said, moving forward, raising his pistol.

‘Tell me mother–’

The shot reverberated through the trees, which came instantly alive, cacophonous as a murder of crows took wing against the evening sky.

Martin twisted with the shot, his body thudding against the edge of the grave they had dug. Hugh moved across and, with his toe, pushed him down into the gaping space, before firing three more shots in quick succession, each one momentarily illuminating the still white body where it lay, the red wounds flowering as the blood unfurled with each shot.