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"Gorrany spare change, please?" Dave had been chanting the same mantra to anyone who had walked by during the past three hours. Sometimes it was a slurred whisper, sometimes a restrained bellow. The floor of the underpass was still damp from the overnight mist but then he hadn't been dry all night, sleeping under that old bridge, dripping on him wherever he moved to.This was normally a good spot. Plenty of people usually; passing from the shopping precinct to the offices on the other side. Today it was quiet. He'd only got 50p so far. It was going to be another shitty day - he could feel it in his aching, damp bones. Someone clopped down the steps at the far end of the underpass. Dave barely looked up but registered it was a tall-ish man in a long, dark coat with an equally long head. Well we've all got our problems, he thought. "Gorrany spare change, please?" he chanted dully as the man passed. The man stopped. Always a good sign that, thought Dave. Readjusting his long coat, the man stood fumbling a while before dropping a handful of coins into Dave's grubby palm. "Than'you verri mush," said Dave, politely. At least his parents had taught him that, he thought; manners. Dave reeled in his haul and gazed at it. There was an assortment of coins, including a couple of £1 pieces. Great, he thought. Then he noticed a large silver coin, unlike anything he'd seen recently. It reminded him of something from his childhood - a big chocolate coin like you'd get in your stocking at Christmas time. He flipped it over. It had strange writing on it, obviously foreign, and seemed too big to be an ordinary coin. Perhaps it was a medal of some sort. Could be valuable. Should he shout after the man? Perhaps he'd been given it by mistake. It might mean a lot to the man - but then it might be valuable and Dave might be able to sell it. Best be honest, thought Dave, at least my parents taught me that; honesty - that's why I'm in the fucking mess I'm in today. The man hadn't yet reached the steps leading up to the shops and Dave decided to "do the right thing". He began to shout after the man when the coin gave a small jump in his hand. It reminded him of something from his childhood; Mexican jumping beans - that was it. He and his cousin had been bought some by his aunt. Great fun. The memory bought a small smile to Dave's face. Then the coin gave a small click and sprang open in his hand. Dave gazed at it. It reminded him of something from his childhood; an awful dream - that was it. One of those where you wake at two in the morning, sweaty and crying, knowing you haven't got long to live. And knowing your parents won't hear you and won't care if they do. ***** As he walked up the damp steps into the sunshine reflecting off the shops, Bilt heard the young man's scream choked off as parts of his face and neck disappeared. The thrashing and gurgling sounds only lasted a few seconds at most. Bilt smiled. Well, somebody had to do something to get the poor off the streets and into the morgue. Besides, you can't use the old coins anymore. He thought he'd make a start, set an example to a useless government who didn't seem to want to do anything. Politicians! What did they think he paid his taxes for? Then he remembered that he didn't pay taxes and he felt a little bit guilty. But just a very little bit.
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