Michael Robertson - Highrise Hell

Tiredness saturated the large muscles in George’s legs, and they threatened to seize as he walked. Breathing was also more difficult with his lack of sleep, his heart pounding twice as hard as it normally would. Regardless of this, George pulled his shoulders back and lifted his chin. He wouldn’t be beaten by his own stupid body, and he wouldn’t be beaten by his fear of fire.

Why had Ravi come out on his own? Why didn’t he just tell George that he needed help? Too fucking stubborn, that boy . The streets were now a place for sharks and the brave. Ravi was neither.

Pulling his face down into his collar stopped the wind getting beneath his clothes. Looking across at one of the only shop windows on the street that wasn’t smashed, he stared at his reflection. Barrel chest. Muscular legs. Thick neck. He looked at his dorsal fin. He was a fucking shark all right. Plunging his hands deep into his pockets, he dipped his head into the oncoming wind and continued on. Ravi best fucking appreciate the effort.

George had been walking for hours, and the threat of cramps twinged in his legs. About every ten steps, one or the other side slightly gave way, wobbling him momentarily. He was yet to fall, but he felt closer to it with every passing second.

Each blink stayed closed slightly longer than the previous one. His neck struggled to support his head. Two hours’ sleep wasn’t enough.

Swinging his arms as he walked may have drained more energy, but it kept him warm in the sub-zero conditions. If only he could heat up his cheeks in the same way, the icy gales having turned them numb hours ago.

The heavy veil of night was falling over the city as the sky turned a deep yellow. He had to get back soon.

Looking across at an abandoned supermarket, George felt a pulling towards it. The large hole where the automatic doors once were showed that the dark space was free of fire. Checking both ways, he crossed the road.

The frame of the old white doors lay sprawled on the floor amongst thousands of small pieces of glittering safety glass. Despite moving on tiptoes, the little pops and crunches were unavoidable as they crushed underfoot. Fortunately, the wind whistling through the shell of the building masked most of it.

The old refrigerators in what was previously the chilled section were on George’s left. The absence of an electrical buzz was deafening. All that was left on their shelves were dark stains and unopened bottles of rancid milk. They provided the perfect screen to hide behind.

Once he’d moved in close and dropped into a defensive crouch, George heard a voice. Ravi ? A second voice responded. Who’s he talking to ? With his pulse pounding in his ears, George slowed his breath. Once he felt calm enough, he moved along the line of fridges.

At the end of the line, George poked his head around to see Ravi. The boy was dressed like he was going to a wedding, a new trench coat replacing the bloodied one from the previous day. He was talking to another boy. From where he was stood, George could only see the boy’s back. He wasn’t one of Dean’s gang.

The boy had his hood up. He was tall — at least six feet two inches. There was no way he was any older than twenty. His long, skinny frame was that of a body yet to reach manhood.

“The middle of the night will be a perfect time to do it,” Ravi said.

The boy had an urban twang to his words. “I think so too, bruv. Catch ’em while they’re sleeping.”

“Come when I’m on guard duty. Dean makes us do it on our own, so I’ll be able to look the other way and leave the gate open for you.”

A deep frown weighed heavy on George’s face.

The hood nodded. “So there’s plenty of food you say?”

“Yeah. An entire truck full. You’ll need to hot-wire it though. The guy that has the keys doesn’t let them out of his sight.”

There was a metal bar next to George that had previously held a shelf up. Should he end this now? No one was getting his food. No one.

“I can get Brigsy on it. He used to joyride like a mother fucker.”

A slimy grin spread across Ravi’s face. It then dropped when he said, “Just make sure my mum and dad don’t get hurt, yeah? We need to get them out safely. After that, you can do what you want with the block.”

“Just your mum and dad? Everyone else is fair game?”

George’s stomach lurched when Ravi said, “Yeah. Fuck everyone else up for all I care. Especially Dean.” Ravi then added, “Oh, and there’s a big black fella called George.”

“Yeah?”

“Burn the cunt. He’s a smug bastard that thinks I’m a fucking charity case. He’s mugged me off one too many fucking times.”

The world around George spun, and his guts sank. The bar next to him screamed to be used. The hoodie would drop with one swing. He could then pin Ravi to the floor and squeeze the air from the little cunt’s throat. The lack of oxygen would burst the boy’s eyeballs like boils.

With adrenaline swimming through his blood, George took calming breaths to pull everything back under control.

A strong, cold wind then carried the smoke of a nearby fire into the supermarket. It aggravated George’s dry throat. When he swallowed, it was like drinking dust, and a squirming itch settled on his gag reflex. Holding his breath prevented it from coming out, but it didn’t stop his body bucking with silent coughs. Why hadn’t he found some water sooner?

“Do any of your crew know about the plan?”

The hood shook. “No. But it won’t take much to persuade them to storm the block. Mal’s been fucked up from his bike crash. They want blood, fam.”

“Good. I can’t afford for them to know who I am. If Dean finds out…”

The tickle set George’s tear ducts off, and he had to rub his eyes. He had to cough soon. Picking up a small bolt that was in the fridge, he launched it at a row of shelves that had children’s toys on it. It was one of the only shelves in the supermarket that hadn’t been ransacked.

The hood twisted towards the loud clang. George saw his face. He was a black kid with thick bags beneath his eyes and withdrawn cheeks. It was the face of an addict. Crack, scag, he wasn’t sure, but this boy was a user.

“What the fuck was that?”

Shrugging, Ravi looked in the direction of the children’s toys. “I haven’t got a clue. We should get out of here. Are we done?”

The hoodie nodded. “Yeah, we’re done.”

Until that moment, George hadn’t thought about which way the boy would go and quickly searched for somewhere to hide. Fortunately, he headed in the opposite direction.

After scooting back near to the entrance of the supermarket, George let his barking cough loose. It shot around the empty building. Once he’d recovered, he walked back up the aisle like he’d only just entered the place.

When he came to the end of the refrigerators, he turned the corner to find Ravi standing with a crowbar in his hands. Looking at it, George smirked. “That’s the second time you’ve greeted me on the offensive. You expecting a rumble, boy?”

Before Ravi could reply, George looked at their surroundings. “What the fuck are you doing here?” His cough folded him in two again, his throat burning with every explosion. After heaving hard, he stood up and swallowed several times. It did nothing to dispel the taste of smoke on the back of his throat.

All of the blood had drained from Ravi’s face. Lowering his weapon, he said, “Um, George. H… h… how are you?”

Clenching his jaw, George stared straight into Ravi’s shifty eyes. “I’m looking for water. Have you seen any?”

The boy shook but didn’t reply. Before George could ask any more questions, he started coughing again.