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.
It wasn’t long before Ravi broke the silence. He always broke the fucking silence. “I still can’t believe how many people abandoned London. And how many of them were connected either through wealth or politics. I keep hoping I’ll wake up.”
“You ain’t dreaming, boy. With all of them leaving at the same time, anyone would have thought they’d planned it.” George raised his eyebrows. “If there was ever a sign that we were fucked, that was it.”
“Where do you think they’ve all gone?”
“All of them have second homes. I reckon most of them have gone west.”
“West?”
“Cornwall. Half of the houses in that county belong to people in the Southeast. The locals couldn’t afford to buy there because house prices had been disproportionally raised by the wealthy holiday crowd.”
“Wow. The locals must hate them.” When the boy scratched his armpit, it sent a waft of his aftershave George’s way.
“That cologne tastes like fucking fly spray.” Sticking his tongue out, George bit down on it and ran it along his top row of teeth. It did nothing to remove the taste. “Put less on the next time you come out with me. This ain’t a fucking date.”
Ignoring the comments, Ravi nodded out of the window. “No wonder Dean has a hard-on for them.”
“Maybe we should suggest he move down to Cornwall next. He could start his war there. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if the locals have already lynched them. I don’t expect they were welcomed with open arms.”
“Maybe it’s even crazier there than it is here?” Looking out of the window again, Ravi sighed, “Although what baffles me more is that some chose to stay in London. Don’t they get what’s going on? London ain’t their home anymore. The once wealthy ain’t welcome. You think they would have got the hint by now, eh? I know shit went down quickly, but the fact that some of them still haven’t left is insane. They’re sitting ducks in their big, well-stocked houses.”
“How did you stay alive, Ravi?”
With half of his fist in his mouth, Ravi then removed it and inspected his index finger. “Huh?”
“How did you survive on the streets with your mum and dad in tow?”
“Dunno. We had to, really.”
When George swerved to avoid a pothole, Ravi slid across the leather seat. The hollow crack of his head against the window reminded George of a mallet on a coconut. It was hard to conceal the smirk. “But you only moved into the tower block a few weeks ago, right?”
“Yeah, the last few weeks on the streets were mental. It was like the lunatics had been freed from the asylum. When people realized there was no punishment for crime, all bets were off. London turned into hell on earth.”
Looking at the women in front of them made George shiver. It was freezing, and most of them didn’t even have coats on. They looked like livestock heading for the slaughterhouse. An emptiness swelled in George’s chest. The slaughterhouse was paradise in comparison to where they were going.
George made eye contact with her again. Looking away, he swallowed and then cleared his throat. “You can hardly blame the filth for abandoning their jobs though. Fuck being a pig in the first place, but with no pay and with everything spiralling out of control?” He shook his head. “Fuck that.”
Ravi didn’t respond.
“So how did you get into the gang? I wasn’t around when you joined.” Glancing across, George saw Ravi was staring out of the side window again, holding the point where his head had collided with it.
“Through James.”
“The one who Dean accused of stealing food? The one that he ran—”
“Yep. It was where he got the idea to run the kid over.”
The empty houses had given way to damaged shops. Most of the windows were smashed. Cables, clothes, and furniture spilled out of them like entrails. All of the goods that no one could find any use for littered the streets. Looking back at Ravi, George said, “And was he?”
“Stealing? Yeah.” A frown creased Ravi’s face. “He was just trying to help my mum and dad out. They can’t contribute to the group’s survival because they’re too old. Who wants shirts ironed or lawns mowed? To Dean, they’re freeloaders and don’t deserve feeding. He gave them food for the first week, but then he stopped caring if they lived or died.”
The sound of thick tires on tarmac buzzed through the car.
“James was trying to help us out. We only came to the gang because he said it was safe. We were on our way out of the city. I think he felt responsible for getting us involved. He was a mate, he was trying to do us a favor. The way Dean punished him was off the charts. He was moody before, but he took it to a whole new level.”
“I agree. He lost the plot that day and hasn’t come back since.” Looking at Dean’s truck at the front of the convoy, the men on the back desperately clinging on, George fantasized about a huge speed bump that would flip half of them off. The large wheels on Si’s truck would chew them up and spit them out. Simply thinking about it settled George’s pulse.
When Ravi didn’t say anything, George continued, “Dean went from being a cunt to being a horrible cunt pretty fucking quickly, eh? Not only has he fucked over the residents in the tower block in that time, but I think he’s taken a pound of flesh from everyone in the gang in this last month.”
“What’s he taken from you?”
Clenching his right fist, George looked across at Ravi. “Watch your fucking tone, yeah?” Rolling the tension from his shoulders, George’s neck clicked when he twisted it. “He’s taking my humanity. Seeing people killed is a day-to-day activity now. I’m already desensitized, and I don’t want to numb to it completely.” George looked at his bloody hands. “I killed a man today.” He jabbed his own temple. “This life is doing my fucking head in. I only murdered him because he used my name. Imagine what that gang of animals would have done to me if I hadn’t killed him. Dean may put up with me giving him shit because we’re family, but if he thought I was involved with the posh twats that he targets, I’d have to sleep with one eye open. As soon as I find my sister, I’m gone.”
“At least you can get out. I feel fucking trapped now. If I leave my flat with my mum and dad in tow, someone’s going to know what’s going on. What do you think Dean would do with a deserter?”
Images flashed through George’s mind, and he flinched with every one. The skip. The bin bags. The flames. Charred pork was the closest smell he could equate it to: acrid, yet sweet. The burned fat that he associated with smoking corpses came back to him and left the memory of a greasy aftertaste in his mouth.
Turning to him, Ravi scratched his chin. “Um… What if… Um.”
“Just fucking say it, Ravi.”
“What if your sister’s dead?”
Dryness spread through George’s throat, and it stuck together when he swallowed. “I’ve thought about that. Every day. But I don’t think she is.”