Michael Robertson: Highrise Hell

Crack! The hammer came down. Gavel on block. Order!

The man turned pale and then crumpled like the rest of them.

Screaming, Dean rained blows down on his corpse.

Crunch!

Crunch!

Each one sent up a shot of blood. Each one turned his already crusty suit darker. Each one broadened his grin, his white teeth standing in stark contrast to his dripping red face.

A girl had separated from the crowd. She was aged between eighteen and twenty-two. She was a pretty girl. Brown hair. Fit body. George looked around. Had anyone else noticed her? She darted down an alleyway. Get as far away as possible, girl. There’s nothing here for you anymore.

Fire burned in George’s guts as Dean walked towards him with condensation forming from his ragged breaths. He was a little boy inflated from bullying the weaker kids in the playground.

When he got close enough, George saw the teardrop of blood swelling on his hooked nose. It grew pregnant and fell to the floor.

After running his sleeve across his mouth, Dean licked the blood from his lips and shuddered as if an orgasm had just shimmied through him.

Leaning forwards, Ravi then turned to George. “Did he just—”

“Yep. What a sick fuck.” Hot saliva ran down the back of George’s throat.

When Dean was next to the truck, George lowered the window and was hit with the rancid tang of his suit. It was both metallic and rotten. In the past few weeks of bloodshed, he hadn’t washed it once.

“I ain’t having no do-gooder cunt talk to me, or any of my boys, like that. Fuck no.” Grinning, Dean then jumped into his truck and started the engine. It let out a throaty roar that suited its battered appearance.

The gang, who were as blood-soaked as their leader, hopped on the back.

Once all of the men were on board, Dean howled again and floored the truck, its wheels spinning as it snaked away.

Watching Si follow behind, George then lifted his heavy arm and turned the key. The truck shook to life. He looked at Ravi.

Ravi looked at his own lap.

Staring straight ahead, George looked at the sad faces of the caged women in the back of Si’s truck. Lethargy ran through his veins, and the vibrations from the wheel shook his tired arms. The hum of the road was the only sound he heard. That and the cage in front rattling whenever they hit a pothole.

Over the past few weeks, Dean’s behavior had become much worse, and George had done nothing to challenge it. If anything, he’d condoned it by not standing up to him. And for what? To hopefully get reunited with his sister?

A classroom’s worth of children had died. The truck in front of them was full to bursting with women that were destined for abuse and most likely death. Houses had gone up in flames with people still inside. Reliving the memory of the little boy at the window of the burning house, the image of his petrified face etched in his mind’s eye, George wondered if the impact of it would ever diminish.

Throwing Ravi a sideways glance, George looked at the women in front again. “Did you ever think it would come to this, boy?”

Shaking his head, Ravi stared ahead. “Dean’s off the fucking hook, man. He’s fucking mental. His behavior was extreme when he was attacking the rich, but who feels sorry for the wealthy, right?”

Turning the heaters down, George then opened his window a crack. The frigid breeze cut through the stuffy air.

“But kids?” Ravi said. “Innocent kids. The only crime they’ve committed was to be sad when someone they loved was run over.”

The comment took the air from George’s lungs.

Slapping his hand over his mouth, Ravi looked across at him. “Sorry.” His eyes were wide. “I wasn’t suggesting—”

“It’s fine. You’re right. All of this happened because I wasn’t looking where I was fucking going!”

Ravi didn’t reply.

George’s mind slipped into a loop. Bang! Wing mirror. Spinning woman. Children crying. Dead kids. Fire. Bang! Wing mirror…

When Ravi spoke, George broke out of it. “I thought everything would return to normal after the initial panic. An economic crash was bound to send ripples through society, but I thought we’d be okay after that died down. They were an elected government. You have to put your faith in that, don’t you?”

“Do you? I had zero faith in our government. They did whatever the fuck they wanted to.” Lifting his bloody fingers one at a time, George counted, “A war against the Muslim faith. Helping bankers destroy the economy. Making sure their mates were always kept rich regardless of the economic climate. Devastating the welfare state. Don’t get me wrong, the welfare budget was too fucking big, but cutting the money from people dying of cancer and the disabled…” Looking out of the truck, George tried to see into the dark windows of what appeared to be empty houses on either side of the street. “They were cold bastards no matter which fucking color you voted for. It’s a shame that Dean’s never had a chance to pay them a visit.”

Ravi laughed.

“What’s funny, boy?”

“Politics! It still gets people’s backs up. Even after all of the politicians have gone.”

“Nuts, isn’t it?” Returning his attention to the deserted streets, George barely recognized his city now. The mass exodus of London had taken less than a month. It was now an empty town full of whispers, haunted by reprobates and murderers.

The seat creaked as Ravi sat upright. “What I mean about having faith in the government is more to do with control though, bruv. They employed a police force and army. They kept order on the streets, or at least an illusion of order. That used to be enough to make people compliant. I didn’t expect that to go so easily.”

Looking forwards again, the broken faces in front staring back, her broken face staring back, George shrugged. “Well, they proved that citizen safety was yet another one of their shallow promises. Gutless fucks.” Fire stirred in George’s bowels. “Although it is crazy that it’s only taken six months for everything to collapse. Do you remember the news reports?”

“Of course,” Ravi said. “We were all looking for that smarmy cunt to come out of Downing Street with an answer to our problems. He promised to deliver his new plan for how we’d cope.”

“How he’d cope more like.”

“That horrible bastard certainly made the most of electricity being cut. With no twenty-four-hour news cycle, he had the chance he needed to get the fuck out. He was gone for at least two days before anyone knew he’d deserted his post.”

“He wasn’t the only one.” Slowly grinding his teeth, George snarled. “Fucking politicians! Rats! The lot of them.”

When Ravi didn’t speak, George looked across and saw he was looking at a pub on their left that was crawling in flames. They ate into the building like it was made from paper.

The boy finally found his words. “I’ll never get used to seeing buildings on fire with no one making any effort to put them out. It’s amazing that the entire city isn’t ablaze by now.”

“That won’t happen!”

Flinching, his usual childish confidence abandoning him, Ravi looked at George again. “Why not?”

“Don’t be a fucking idiot, Ravi. The utility companies cut the gas. It’s the middle of winter, and the fires are too isolated.” The scar tissue on George’s ribs ached, and he heard the imagined screams of his son. The screams he should have heard at the time.

Feeling Ravi’s eyes on him, George’s face flushed hot and he shook his head. “Not gonna happen. Not gonna fucking happen.” Wiping his sweating palms on his jeans, he ground his jaw and continued staring straight ahead.