Stuart James - Apartment 6

Suddenly, he heard footsteps coming towards him, moving down the stairs. He stepped into the lift, pulling the body closer to the back.

‘Right. You ready?’ Meagan asked. She was puffing, struggling to take breaths, her hands placed on her hips.

‘You took your bloody time. Let’s move. We haven’t got long.’ Oliver explained the phone calls as he watched the horror on Meagan’s face. She spun towards the front door, expecting it to open any second.

‘Give me the keys to your car; I’ll bring it to the fire escape. Wait a minute and if you don’t hear from me, presume it’s safe and come out.’

‘A minute? It’s not the bloody egg and spoon race, Meagan. Do you know how heavy this guy is?’ He tossed her the keys, telling her where the car was parked.

She disappeared along the communal hall. Oliver heard the fire door open at the back of the building, then slowly close. He checked gloved-man’s phone. The last call was two minutes ago. Whoever was ringing was possibly on their way over.

He waited a few minutes, then went to the back door and held it open. He was pleased to see the barrier rise, and Meagan driving to the back of the building.

He could hear the car running, pumping out fumes from the exhaust. Meagan was sitting high on the driver’s seat; her body pushed forward, frantically wiping condensation from the windscreen. The screech of the wiper blades grated through his head.

He checked once more, moving to the front of the building past the lift on his right side. He then returned, got a firm grip on the trunk and dragged it to the car.

Meagan was standing outside with the boot open. ‘Quick, lower the seats, chuck him in and let’s go.’

She stood by the passenger door, keeping watch as Oliver fought to lift the leather trunk. Oliver used his legs, keeping low, crouching, then turned his body and heaved, pushing the trunk into the back of the car.

Then he jumped into the driver’s seat, opened the passenger door so Meagan could get in, and they drove away from the building and towards Kensington High Street.

Oliver and Meagan were quiet; the events of the last couple of hours had justified the silence. Oliver’s brain felt like it was about to explode. How could this happen? He was sure Meagan had said the top of the stairs and turn right.

Who the hell was the guy they’d killed and how would they get away with it? He was confused. The pressure had got to him, and he struggled to think clearly. He panicked, wanting to open the car door and jump out. But he couldn’t leave Meagan to clear up his shit: it wasn’t fair. This was their mess; they had to sort it.

He watched Meagan as he drove, the way she concentrated on the road, her beautiful face, the shit she’d been through and now this.

‘I’m sorry.’

Meagan seemed pleased that the ice had finally broken. ‘We just need to get rid of the body. Move on, but we can never talk about it to anyone, you understand?’ She placed her hand on Oliver’s arm, gripping it gently.

‘Goes without saying. It’s not something I do regularly, I can assure you.’

Meagan turned. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

Oliver saw a sign for Brent Cross Shopping Centre in north west London. He’d tried to focus his eyes, seeing images of gloved-man flashing through his mind.

‘It’s just up here towards Hendon,’ Meagan announced. She pointed at the dual carriageway as Oliver used the indicator and moved the car to the left side of the road.

‘Are you sure it’s safe?’ he asked.

‘Yeah. I can’t imagine anyone comes out here at night.’

Oliver turned left down a quiet side road and through an open gate at the bottom, spotting the sign, Reservoir .

‘This is the place,’ Meagan announced, as they pulled into the car park. The tyres rolled over the gravel, causing a loud crunching sound.

Oliver looked out at the long grass and the calm water, which glistened with the light from the street lamps.

They got out of the car, leaving their doors open. Oliver went to the boot and eyed the trunk.

Then Oliver walked to a concrete ledge and looked into the water, hoping it would be deep enough to swallow the trunk and gloved-man. Meagan came behind him and gripped him around his waist. He could feel her shaking.

They waited for a couple of minutes, holding each other, immersed in the peaceful surroundings, the distant sounds of vehicles moving along the dual carriageway; the drivers oblivious to what Oliver and Meagan were about to do.

Oliver shifted from Meagan’s hold, then walked to the boot of the car. He gripped the flimsy handle of the leather trunk and pulling it to the ground, watched it crash with the weight, aware of the indents it would leave in the earth.

He looked across the water. Rings appeared in several places like stones dropping from above, and midges hovered over the reservoir. The glint from the moon reflected on the water, glistening in their faces.

Meagan said, ‘Are you ready?’

Oliver had let go of the trunk and was spreading his fingers, opening and closing them to allow the blood to circulate. ‘Let’s get it over with.’

Oliver pushed the trunk while Meagan kept her distance, watching Oliver step to the end of the ledge. Oliver crouched, placing his hands under the trunk, flipping it over into the water and getting soaked with the splash-back.

They stood for a few moments, watching the bubbles rising as if the trunk was sinking into a hot cauldron, rather than a reservoir.

They realised the water wasn’t deep enough. The trunk was still visible.

Oliver turned. ‘Shit. Someone’s going to find it. We can’t leave it here! What if someone pulls him out? Opens the trunk? Sees what we’ve done?’ He moved forward, pressing his hands against the trunk, pushing hard, urging it to vanish to the bottom. ‘It’s too fucking shallow, Meagan. Look, we may as well have dumped him in a bloody bath.’

‘Get a grip, will you. How many people do you know that would just pull a trunk from a reservoir, huh? I know I wouldn’t. Would you? Besides, it’s pretty desolate here; no one comes to this place. Why would they? It’s London for God’s sake. The water is probably contaminated anyway.’

‘Well, if it wasn’t before, it sure as hell is now, Meagan. I can’t believe this shit, really. I can’t.’

Meagan made her way to the car, pissed off with the way Oliver was shouting at her.

He watched her, moving his eyes between Meagan and the trunk in the water. ‘Where are you going? Meagan, I’m talking to you. Hello.’

She was already halfway between the reservoir and the car park. He got up, brushing the mud from his knees, watching the trunk, knowing just how easily it could be found.

Oliver pulled into the car park at the back of Albuquerque House, killing the lights and the engine. As Meagan got out, she crouched over towards him, brushing the back of her right hand along his face. ‘Will you come up? I don’t want to be alone just yet.’

Oliver’s heart raced as he struggled to contain the excitement of being in her company.

‘Park the car in that space there,’ she said, getting out of the car.

He watched as Meagan crossed the car park and did as he had been told.

She let him in through the fire escape. ‘Thank you. We need to talk about earlier, and what happens now. I’m frightened, Oliver.’

They were standing alone in the communal hall, worried they’d be caught.

Oliver’s heart raced, his face flushed with anticipation and his body shook with adrenaline. Meagan drove him wild. He struggled to understand how he’d feel like this after earlier: the break-in, the body in the trunk, what they both did. It all seemed to add fuel to his already raging fire.