Michael Robertson - Highrise Hell

When he looked back up, Ravi was still shaking. “So, what are you doing here, boy?”

No response.

Maybe now wasn’t the time. Maybe George could take advantage of the chaos if he knew when it was coming. Maybe it could help him get to Sally. Don’t be too hasty, George. Giving the boy an out, he said, “Looking for food for your parents?”

Nodding, Ravi’s tense frame relaxed a little and he forced a smile. “Yep. They’re so hungry at the moment.”

“They didn’t look good last night.”

Silence.

“And they’re the only ones that matter to you, eh?”

Ravi’s eyes pinched at the sides as if he were trying to understand the meaning behind George’s words.

Speaking again before the boy could answer, George said, “So, have you seen anyone else around? This city’s like a fucking ghost town.”

Looking at the bank of smashed windows that ran along one side of the supermarket, Ravi pointed behind them. “It’s getting dark soon, George. I need to go and see if I can find any food. If I stumble across any water, I’ll bring you some, okay?”

Talking had irritated George’s throat again, and before he could say anything else, another fierce coughing fit grabbed ahold of him. The hacking barks flipped his stomach several times.

By the time George had finished, Ravi had gone. Looking in the direction he’d headed, George muttered, “Slippery little fucker.”

Knocking hard against the door sent a sharp echo around the empty hallway. It was surprisingly quiet for early evening. Pulling his hand away, George could feel a slight buzz along his knuckles.

As he stood waiting, drawing shallow breaths to avoid the burn of the bleach, the frigid air surrounding him penetrated his layers of clothes. To try and distract himself from the shiver running through his body, he looked down at his hands, opening and closing them several times. It did nothing to warm them up, and the muscles in them ached from the movement. The absence of fresh food from his diet was making his entire body heavy with lethargy.

Cuddling himself for warmth, his eyes stinging, George considered knocking again before his corrosive environment reduced him to a pile of hair, teeth, and shoes.

The short breaths threw stars in front of George’s eyes. Holding off for as long as he could, he eventually gasped to get more air into his body. When the bleach hit the back of his throat, tearing coughs exploded from him. Each one hurt more than the last, and each inhalation dragged more of the chemical air into his body. Bent over double, George spiralled into a choking paralysis.

When the door finally opened in front of him, he looked up at Ravi’s slack face, lifted a carrier bag full of food, coughed several more times, and then said, “Surprise.”

Turning back to look into his flat, Ravi moved out into the hallway and pulled the door after himself.

Craning his neck, George looked through the small gap that remained. “What’s up, Rav? Got something in there you’re trying to hide?”

A heavy frown sat on Ravi’s face. “No. Why are you here, George? How can I help you?”

“I have some more food to share.” Holding the bag up again, he forced a smile. “Your mum’s cooking is the best.”

Looking up and down the hallway, Ravi winced and put his finger to his lips. “Shhh.”

George didn’t care. Ravi would be the one punished for this interaction, not him. All Dean wanted was the slightest excuse to fuck the boy up. However, before he could make any more noise, Mrs. Vadher had pulled the door open and pushed Ravi aside.

“George,” she said as she stepped into the corridor and hugged him. She smelled of spice. It had been a long time since George had eaten a good curry.

“Mrs. Vadher, it’s lovely to see you.” Stepping back, he raised the bag again. “I’ve bought some more food. I’ve been craving one of your meals all day.” The strong aftertaste of bleach sat in his throat when he swallowed.

Batting the comment away, Ravi’s mum giggled and said, “You charmer, George. Come in.”

“Do you think that’s wise, Mum?” Ravi said. “I’m on the graveyard shift tonight, and I could do with resting up before it.”

Staring at the boy, George said, “You’ve had a busy day today, haven’t you, Ravi?”

Batting Ravi’s protests away, Mrs. Vadher shook her head. “Nonsense. You’re young and fit.” She turned to George and winked. “I’m sure you can handle a night shift without having a sit down on the sofa beforehand.”

Crossing the flat’s threshold, George watched Ravi deflate. As he passed him, he patted the boy on the shoulder and flashed him a broad grin.

When George looked up from a mouthful of refried beans, he saw Ravi’s mum was watching him.

“Sorry it’s not better food.”

The cold, spicy pulp sat on his tongue. It had the consistency of mashed potatoes, and he could feel a heave lifting up his throat. Trusting Mrs. Vadher’s cooking, he swallowed. The delicate mix of spices surprised him. They brought what he assumed would be a bland taste to life. Wasn’t that the point of curry? After finishing his mouthful, he smiled. “Don’t be. This is lovely. It reminds me of Dahl.”

Beaming at George, Mrs. Vadher clapped her hands together. “Very good, George. It is a Dahl recipe.” She blushed, “Without the heat to cook it with of course.”

Winking, George then shovelled another mouthful. “You’ve done a sterling job.”

When Mrs. Vadher looked across at her son, George saw he was sat at an incredibly poorly-lit part of the table. With the evening settling in, it was hard to see him. There was no way that was a coincidence.

“Ravi,” she said, “what’s wrong with you tonight? You seem very quiet.”

Glancing at his dad, as if to point out his stealthy approach to mealtimes, Ravi shrugged. “Just resting up, Mum.” He then looked at the line of clocks on the mantelpiece — they all showed it was five o’clock in the evening. “I have a long night ahead of me.”

While staring at the boy, George raised his eyebrows. “You’ve got to be extra vigilant on night duty, eh?” He looked at Ravi’s mum. “If anyone was to overrun the block, they’d surely do it when everyone was sleeping.” Looking back at the boy, he watched him drop his eyes to his dinner plate. “Don’t you think, Ravi?”

Mrs. Vadher put her hand on her chest. “Oh, it doesn’t bear thinking about. That would be horrible if we were attacked.”

“Don’t worry,” leaning over, George clapped Ravi hard on the back. “We’ve got one of our best men on the job tonight.” Sliding a candle across the table threw the flickering light on Ravi’s face. “He’ll make sure everyone’s okay.”

Eating another spoonful of Dahl, he watched the boy.

Ravi didn’t look up.

The candlelight flickered and animated Ravi’s still face as he stared at his plate and ate small dollops of food. Watching him, George saw the slight shift in his eyes every once in a while. He seemed painfully aware of George’s scrutiny.

After Ravi put the last spoonful of dinner into his mouth, his mum spoke again. “So where did you go today, son?”

Releasing a booming laugh, George commanded the room’s attention. “Didn’t he tell you? We bumped into each other at the supermarket.” He laughed again, “It sounds like the old days, doesn’t it?”

Silence returned to the room.

After staring at George, Mrs. Vadher looked at her son. “He didn’t say anything. Which supermarket?”

Before Ravi could reply, George cut him off. “The old Sainsbury’s a few miles from here. The city looks like a ghost town now, doesn’t it, Ravi?”