China Miéville - King Rat

Four great squat blocks reached up like stubby fingers around the Westway: brown tower blocks overlooking him with uneven points of light. The sound of traffic was a rhythmic, constant crescendo, flows without ebbs, never dying away.

Isolated in the centre of this wide road, Saul could not see the streets below him. He could not gaze into windows or over the edge of the Westway at late-night walkers. He was alone with the anonymous cars and the horizon. The whole city had become horizon punctuated by fat towers.

To his left, the raised tracks of the Hammersmith and City tube line shadowed the Westway, only a few feet away. A train rattled past. With a rush of adrenaline, Saul pictured himself racing across the road and leaping out, catching it as it went by and straddling it like a rodeo rider, but he felt a sudden, certain intimation that he could not make that jump, not yet, and he stood still as the train headed on to Ladbroke Grove.

He followed its passage on the Westway until he could see Ladbroke Grove station hovering in the air to his left. It was so close that he could probably leap across onto the platform itself. Saul peered into the headlights to his right, and bundled himself across the road, passing like a discarded coat in wind before the windscreens of startled drivers. He flattened himself against the barrier and leaned over.

Just beyond the station, Ladbroke Grove still throbbed with the beats of ghetto-blasters. A group of youth leaned, studiously cool, outside the closed Quasar building. They did their best to intimidate the passers-by. Late-night grocers leaned out of their doors and chatted to each other, to customers, to the mini-cab drivers. The streets did not throng, but they were hardly empty. From his precarious hide, Saul watched.

Unnoticed he clambered over the barrier and held it behind his back, leaning out over the streets. He enjoyed his own insouciance.

It was an easy jump to the drainpipe opposite, barely four feet, and he accomplished it without a sound. He descended to the wedge of low roofing between the station and the raised road, and slid into the Westway’s looming shadow. He clambered over mildewed eaves. Three days ago, he thought as he jumped to the ground, I was heavy and human. And now, he thought as he moved out of the graffitied darkness towards Ladbroke Grove itself, I’m rat and I can travel how I like. I woke up so fast.

He made no effort to hide himself, even swaggering a little, and the groups of young men who clotted the pavement eyed him but let him pass, their noses wrinkling in his wake. He walked through conversations in accented English, in Arabic and in Portuguese.

He turned into Bassett Road and trotted up to Natasha’s house. Her lights were off. He cursed and turned on his heel, pacing away to a tree opposite her window. He leaned against it and folded his arms, debating whether or not to wake her.

Saul had no illusions. He could never go back, he had become a rat. There was no way into that world again. But he had lived there once and he missed his friends.

As he stood trying to make up his mind, a slouching figure made its way down the street. With a sudden thrill, Saul recognized the stumbling gait. As the man approached Natasha’s house and slowed, Saul cupped his hands over his mouth and hissed, ‘Kay.’

Kay jumped and looked all around him in confusion. Saul hissed again. Kay stared straight at him for a moment and panned his eyes around, comically nervous.

Saul stepped out of the cover of the tree.

‘Jesus, Saul man, you gave me a heart attack!’ said Kay as he slumped with relief. ‘You were fucking invisible under that tree, and your voice has gone all weird…’ He stopped short suddenly, shook his head and put his hands to his face.

‘Shit, man!’ he hissed, looking wildly around him. ‘What’s gone on? How the fuck are you? I just heard about all your shit! Jesus! What’s happened?’

Saul had reached him, and he slapped his shoulder and gripped his hand.

‘Seriously, Kay, you wouldn’t fucking believe it. I’m not fobbing you off, man, it’s just… I don’t even understand it myself.’

Kay’s face had screwed up.

‘What is that stink, man? Is that you? I mean no offence, man, but…’

‘I’m… hiding out.’

‘Where? The fucking sewers?’ Saul said nothing and Kay’s eyes widened. ‘Fuck me! You aren’t! I wasn’t serious…’ Saul cut him off.

‘Yeah, well, you heard about me getting out of the cell? I got to hide, man, the police think I killed my dad.’

Kay stared at him for a moment.

Saul was aghast. ‘No I fucking didn’t. Jesus, do you have to ask me that?’

All the talk of chase and crime and capture was making him nervous, and he backed into the darkness under the tree, pulling Kay with him.

‘So what are you doing?’ said Kay.

‘Oh…’ Saul was vague. ‘I’ve got to find something to prove I didn’t do it.’ He could not explain that he could never go back.

‘What about the two cops?’ Saul stared at Kay blankly. ‘The ones who bought it in your flat.’

Saul stared at him in mounting horror.

‘Didn’t you know?’

‘So what fucking happened?’ Saul shook his lapels. Kay backed away, wrinkling his nose.

‘I don’t know, I don’t know. Fabian came up to Tash’s waving a newspaper around. The police have been interviewing him all day, said the two watching your flat got beat up and died. They’ve got you pegged for it, man.’

Kay had no malice. He could see that Saul knew nothing of the crime, and felt only concern, no more suspicion.

‘Do you… know… do you know who…’ he continued. ‘No, but I think I know someone who does. Shit!’ Saul ran his hands through his hair. ‘Shit, they’ll be going ballistic for me now! Shit!’

He’s going to tell me, he thought, overcome with rage. No more petulant silences. When I find King Rat he’s got to tell me who’s doing this and why, and fuck all this fobbing me off.

He turned back to Kay.

‘What’s going on, man? Why you here?’

Kay pointed up the road.

‘I was in the pub with Tash and Fabe and this geezer Tash has started cutting some tracks with. It’s a lock-in… we’re all talking about you, man.’ He grinned weakly. ‘I realized I left my bag at Tash’s, and she give me her keys. I’m going back in a minute. You want to come?’ Saul hesitated and Kay began to urge him. ‘Come on, man, everyone’s worried fucking sick over you, man. Fabe’s terrible.’

Saul thought of Fabian and felt a wave of nostalgia. His friendships felt shockingly distant. He wanted to come to the pub, but he was suddenly terrified. He had nothing in common with these people any more, though he wanted them desperately; he missed them. What could he say to them, tell them? And the police… they were already questioning them. After this latest killing, could he risk incriminating them?

‘I… can’t, Kay. I’m wanted, man, and I can’t be hanging around in pubs and stuff. I got to keep moving. But… will you tell them that I’m missing them and I promise I’ll try to see them. And Kay… tell them if they don’t hear from me for a bit they can’t worry… I’m sorting things out. OK? Will you tell them that?’

‘Are you sure you won’t come back?’

Saul shook his head.

Kay acquiesced with a sideways nod. ‘So… at least tell me what’s going on. How the fuck d’you get out of prison?’

Saul even laughed a little.

‘It was only a cell, and… I really can’t explain now. I’m really sorry.’

‘How are you looking after yourself?’

‘Kay… I can’t, alright? Please stop, man. I can’t explain it.’

‘But are you OK?’ Kay was concerned. ‘You don’t sound all that good. Like I say, your voice is all… weird, and you smell… like…’