The stabbing pains of grief swelled in his chest as he put his hands through the bars. When she grabbed them, he flinched. "You're freezing."
Sniffing against her runny nose, she pushed her lips tight. "We're not doing too good out here." The fire had left her. "We need to get out."
"I promise you, I'll have you out within two days. Whether I have my sister or not. Please just give me that time."
The tears that escaped her eyes were the first he'd seen her cry. Silence hung between them before she said, "I used to work in an office before all of this."
George raised an eyebrow. "I bet that was dull."
"It was. I worked there for ten years. Do you know why I stayed?"
Shrugging, George waited for her to continue.
"The carrot."
"The carrot?"
"The promise of a better tomorrow. The promotion that may come if I worked harder, stayed later, compromised myself to the point where I felt ill. Mentally and physically." Shaking her head, she scratched her temple. "I quit three months before the world went to shit. I booked a one-way ticket to India. I never managed to take that flight." Sighing, she looked at the floor. "Do you know what I learned?"
George didn't reply.
"The promise of a better future means nothing today. Until it happens, it's only a promise. You can't build a life on promises. You can't compromise a life on them either."
"Liz, you'll get out of this alive, I prom..." Looking at her raised eyebrows, George stopped talking.
"I don't have a choice how long I give you, George. We're prisoners. We're at the mercy of you and your gang."
"Dean's gang!"
Another scream shot out of Dean's apartment, and she looked up at it. "I just hope that you get us out before he gets to me." Looking around the cage, her eyes stopped on a woman who was curled in a ball. The cracker was resting on her side, untouched. She sighed again. "Or before I die."
Squeezing her cold hands, George said, "I will."
"Actions, George. They're what matter." Pointing at the older of the two girls, she said, "Look at the bite marks on her cheek."
George shook his head. He already knew how much of an arsehole he was.
"It's infected. Can you get something for it? TCP or something? I'm worried what it will do to her if we leave it too long."
When he looked at the girl, she stared straight ahead like a submissive animal, refusing eye contact. The scabs from the teeth marks glowed with yellow mucus like the infection would eat a hole through her face. George lowered his eyes. "I'll see what I can do."
When more screams shot out of Dean's open window, George shook his head. The boy wouldn't last the night. Looking back to Liz, he froze. She was staring over his shoulder, her jaw hanging loose. When he turned around, his stomach sank to see the smug face of Ravi staring right back at him.
Secrets
Staring at the boy, George pointed. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough."
Grabbing his arm, George gritted his teeth. "Why are you being so smug, you little prick?"
Shrugging, Ravi raised his eyebrows. "I'm not being smug, George. I just feel happy that I can't be held to ransom anymore."
"You think me and Liz is worse than what you've done?"
Scratching his chin, Ravi looked over at the cage and waved. "Hi, Liz."
Taking hold of the boy's other arm, George shook him. "Shut your fucking mouth."
"It's just nice to have a bit of security."
"You cocky little shit. Guess where I was earlier?"
Ravi shrugged.
"In the supermarket. I saw you with your hoodie mate again. I know what you're planning. Whatever you think you have on me, Dean will react much worse to what you're doing."
The confidence had left the boy despite his words. "That may be true, but you know he'll go to town on her when he gets the chance."
Another scream came from Dean's flat. "Like he's going to town on your mate up there?"
When Ravi didn't reply, George ground his teeth. "Just fuck off, Ravi. You've got much more to worry about than me chatting to women."
"So we're going to keep each other's secrets, are we?"
Continuing to stare, George sneered. "Fuck off."
"We're fucked, aren't we?"
Shaking his head, George put his hands through the bars in the cage and held Liz's. They felt fragile like dry twigs. When he looked up at her sunken eyes and jagged cheek bones, his heart skipped. When did she get so frail? "No. I think we'll be okay. Ravi will keep his mouth shut."
"What if he doesn't?" Her eyes widened. Her words quickened. "He'll pick me next if he knows. Please, George, get me out of here." Looking up at the penthouse flat, she shook her head. "I can't go up there."
"I'll make sure that doesn't happen. I really care about you. I know we haven't known each other for that long—"
"One month. Long enough." Looking at the floor, she started to cry. "Long enough when you've been standing in your own piss and shit. Long enough to form relationships and then watch those people die of malnutrition. Long enough to consider eating the cooked thigh of a former prisoner. Long enough to realize that the hope you'd been holding onto was totally insubstantial. Long enough, George. Long enough."
A lump caught in George's throat that tasted of both bile and grief. The air around them stank. "I just need to make sure Sally's okay."
Liz gave him a weary nod and then looked out into the night. "Why did you kill that man in the close?"
Although he knew she'd want an answer at some point, the directness of her question stole George's breath. "He used my name."
A blank stare looked out of the cage at him.
"In front of Dean. In front of all of them. He said my name like he knew me. What if they all thought that was true? How bad would that look? If I'd have let it slide, Dean would have cut my throat in my sleep. Brother-in-law or not, no one should be mixing with those type of people in his eyes. It's his deep resentment for them that makes him behave the way he does."
"That's bullshit!"
"It's the truth. You think I wanted to kill him?"
"No. That's bullshit that Dean behaves the way he does because of that. He behaves the way he does because he's fucking mental. It's like football thugs that pretend it's about the game, or those English Defence League losers that claim they're fighting for the future of their broken country. Extremists that believe their violent rampages are in the name of God, or Allah, or some other fictional character. It's because they're violent men, and they've found a socially acceptable way to channel that violence."
"Socially acceptable?"
"Amongst their peers, yes. They get hero worshipped for being arseholes. If they just cried and sought therapy for the fact that their mummies never loved them, then the world would be a much better place." With glazed eyes, she stared into space like she was lost in the movie playing in her mind. "Why did you leave the little boy burning in the house? By the time we left, those flames were touching the clouds."
The thought of fire made his ribs ache and his chest tighten. "What other choice did I have? When the dogs sniffed out the people in the house, I had to come back with someone or the others would have gone up to check it out. It was the man or the boy. Or both."
"You could have chosen to batter Dean instead of an innocent man. You could have used the hammer that killed my brother to take Dean out."
Not knowing where to look, George opted for the floor.
"The man I fell for wasn't a coward. That man would have fought for his principles."
"Fell?"
Liz looked away.
"I'll find my sister, and I'll get you out of here. We'll find a place in the country with a big garden like we talked about. We can work the land. Get back to basics."
With a twisted face, she jabbed her temple. "You're fucking delusional, George." Throwing a hand in his direction, she sneered. "You're just as bad as the rest of them. Yo
u're murdering scum. You're oppressing everyone that you come into contact with to serve your own purpose. You're a bad egg."
"I'm—"
"You've let horrible things happen, and you blame it on the need to find your sister. You're spineless, and your sister's probably fucking dead." She stepped back a pace and was swallowed by the shadow cast from the truck's cab.
Biting down on his bottom lip, he pointed at her. "Fuck you, Liz." Turning his back, George walked away, lethargy gripping his muscles. Regardless of what she thought, he'd do the right thing. In two days' time, he'd have to.
Letter
The screeching gate cut to George's core. Covering his heart as if it would calm his quickening pulse, he searched the dark. Frowning against the total absence of light, he clenched his fists and cleared his throat. "Who's there?"
Squinting harder allowed him to see Ravi moving in the dark. He was letting them in. Fuck!
Drawing a lungful of air, the frigid burn of the evening biting into his warm throat, George was just about to yell an alarm for those in the block when the intruder came into view. The sight drained his muscles of their need to fight. "Dean?"
There was another scream from Dean's penthouse.
A wonky grin split the suited nutter's face. "Evening."
"What?" Pointing up at Dean's flat, George said, "I thought you were up there?"
There was a slight tinkling as Dean moved forwards. It sounded like he had a pocket filled with tiny bits of porcelain. "I was. And now I'm here."
"What are you doing? It's the middle of the night."
"I went out for a stroll. I like to walk in the city at night." There was a fresh splattering of blood on the side of Dean's gaunt face.
Glancing over his shoulder, George saw Liz was watching everything. Looking down at Dean's hammer, George took a calming breath. She was right, this had to end now. Dean had no fucking idea where Sally was.
"Oh," Dean laughed. "I nearly forgot. I have this for you. Here."
At the end of Dean's outstretched arm was a letter. "What is it?"
"A letter. Obviously. Here, take it. It's for you."
"Who's it from?"
"Who do you think? Jesus, George, has the lack of sleep gone to your head or something?"
Reaching out, George took the small, white envelope. Catching the front of it in the moonlight, he recognized his sister's handwriting. It was addressed to him.
By the time George had looked back up, the door to the tower block was swinging shut, and Dean had gone.
* * *
George didn't know how long he'd been standing there. It could have been ten minutes. It could have been two hours. Finally, he opened the letter.
To my dearest George,
I'm writing this letter ...
The words started to blur, and the note trembled in his hand. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to read it again, his tears falling freely.
To my dearest George,
I'm writing this letter to let you know I'm okay ...
The grief overwhelmed him, and his legs weakened. Walking over to his truck, he opened the door and sat inside.
He's Dead
Upon daylight breaking, George looked around. For the past few hours, all he'd done was sit in the truck and stare.
The letter was still in his hand, and his eyes were sore. Looking over at the cage, he saw an exhausted Liz staring back at him, her eyebrows raised.
"George! I've been trying to call you for hours. What's going on? Are you okay?"
Stepping out of the cab, his head spinning, George stumbled over to Liz and handed her the letter.
Taking it in her shivering grip, Liz cleared her throat. "To my Dearest George, I'm writing you this letter to let you know I'm okay. Mostly. I'm as big as a house and I have cankles, but I'm okay."
"I'm due to give birth any day now and Dean has me safely in a place where I'll be able to have your new niece or nephew without any problems. I have good people with me—Dean has seen to that. I've heard you're doing well with getting food sorted out. I'm not surprised because you and Dean and both very resourceful." Pausing for a moment, Liz took several deep breaths. "Please don't worry about me. I'm fine and will be fine. I'm so excited to be a mum and to introduce the little bean to its Uncle George. Take care. All my love and so much more. Sally."
Although George couldn't see through his tears, Liz's silence told him that she knew where this was going. Seeing the white of the letter come through the bars to him, George took it and slipped it into his pocket. "I'm sorry, Liz." Swallowing against the pain of grief lodged in his throat, he rubbed his temples. "I have to make sure my sister's okay."
Unable to tell if she was nodding or not, George waited for some other acknowledgment that never came.
"I'm sorry."
George walked away from the cage.
For the rest of the shift, George walked the perimeter of the complex and stayed as far away from Liz as he could. She wasn't staring at him anymore. The resilience she'd shown for the month he'd known her for was finally broken. George was good at destroying people.
* * *
It was another cloudless morning, the sharp sun beating down, the air biting at any piece of exposed skin.
The front doors to the block then swung open, and Ginge and Si stepped out. In Ginge's hand was his tennis racquet, and it was dripping with fresh blood. Glancing at Ravi, George saw the boy staring at the weapon. Hoodie wouldn't be happy with him.
"You can go and get some sleep now," Ginge said as he walked over to Naps and shoved him with his foot. "Wake up, you lazy cunt." When he shoved again, Naps fell out of the chair and hit the floor in exactly the same position he'd been sitting in.
Kneeling down, Si slipped two fingers along the side of his neck. When he looked up, he glanced from George to Ginge to Ravi. "He's dead."
Knock Knock
Knock knock!
The noise crashed through George's dream, and he woke with a start. Opening his eyes, his world spinning, he remained dead still. A sharp splinter sat in his heart as his prematurely-ended dream came back to him. He was with Zach in the park. They both loved to go to the park. Staring at the ceiling, George's muscles felt like lead. Whoever was knocking could fuck off.
Knock knock knock! The sound was accompanied by Dean's rasping voice. "Wakey wakey, Georgie. Rise and shine."
Letting out a long sigh, George lifted a tired arm and threw the bird at the back of the door as he muttered, "Fuck off, cunt."
Knock knock knock!
Why didn't he get the fucking hint? Sitting up too fast, George closed his eyes and pinched his temples to ease the sharp headache galloping through him.
The quick knocks were like a woodpecker to his skull. Knock knock knock! "Earth calling George. Come in, George."
The usual layer of fur sat on George's tongue. Swallowing the thick, muddy-tasting foam in his mouth, his dry throat pinched, tickling his gag reflex. Rubbing his face, he belched stale air and got to his feet.
Knock knock knock!
Walking towards the front door on shaky legs, George made a point to take his time. Dean could fucking wait until he was ready.
Knock knock knock! "For fuck's sake, George, hurry the fuck up, will ya?"
Staring at the closed door at the other end of the hallway, George stopped and started a countdown from one hundred in his head. Fuck you, Dean.
Before he'd got to ninety, the door shook in its frame. Bang! Bang! Bang! There was also the sound of splintering wood as dust filled the murky air. "George!"
The front door was the only thing keeping the assholes in the building away from George. It wouldn't stand up to many more hammer blows.
Rushing the last few steps, George ripped the door open.
The psychopath stood with his hammer raised. Dried blood matted his hair and stained the skin around his jowls. The dark stubble on his face had turned darker with the crusty claret.
"What do you want, Dean?"
&nbs
p; A taught face stared back. Thin lips. Beady eyes. "How long does it take you to get out of bed?"
"What are you? My fucking mother or something?"
Dean stared.
"Where's Sally? Please just take me to her."
The hint of a smile tickled the sides of Dean's mouth. "She's fine. You don't need to worry about her. I want you downstairs. Now."
"I wants don't get." Staring at Dean, George remained rooted to the spot, his nose crinkling at the rancid tang coming from his bloodied leader. It was a thick and acrid smell. The man was walking rot. A slow roll turned George's stomach.
"I said, I want you downstairs now."
"I heard what you said."
The silence held for about a minute, during which George refused to look away and barely blinked. Dean may have been holding a hammer, but George had the might, and he could see in Dean's weasely eyes that he fucking knew it.
Exhaling, Dean softened his tone. "We need your help. We're beefing up the perimeter fence just in case we get any other gangs thinking they can come in and steal our things."
Turning his head into his flat to breathe the less toxic air, George looked back at the crusty man. "Okay. I need to get changed. I'll be down in ten minutes."
Dean opened his mouth to reply, but before he could get a word out, George closed the door on him.
* * *
Coughing when he stepped outside, the reek of burning bodies assaulting him. George looked at the smoking skip. Poor Naps.
The place was alive with the buzz of construction. From what George could see, he was the last one out again. All of the steel fence panels had been separated so they could be sandwiched between large sheets of plywood.
Watching Dean parade around on a foreman power trip, his bloodied hammer hanging down, George's top lip arced in a snarl. What a cunt. When Dean marched towards him, George's back tensed, and his fingers twitched, desperate to be curled into fists.
Crash II: Highrise Hell Page 15
