The Reachers Collection

Chapter 4

Eight block towers bulged against the wilting greenery of Nelson Square. Each building a soaring twenty storeys of congested apartment spaces, squeezing families into single rooms with three foot square bathrooms and a water system that rivalled a third world country. Eight concrete hives, buzzing with an overzealous shot of electricity that flickered and shorted every time someone tried to boil a kettle. This was home for the people with jobs, where they could return for a few hours" sleep and be grateful they had a roof and a hundred other families over their heads. If safety came in numbers, this was the safest place on Earth.

Rachel"s apartment was on the eleventh floor, not high enough to escape the smell, but, with the lift broken, it served as a free gym. She ran up the stairs, reached her door and struggled to unlock it in her panic. As she closed it, the second explosion shuddered through the room. The power cut out. Rachel stood in the dark and counted to ten. Nothing. She edged forward into the blackness, reaching for the bed, then the step up to the counter that pretended it was a kitchen. When she finally reached the sink she opened her curtains.

The power cut had taken out the whole square and the surrounding buildings. In the distance an orange glow marked the c*****e she"d walked through. Blue lights flashed against the road; a strobe effect for the siren disco shrilling through the night. It gave her just enough light to make out the rest of her apartment. Not that there was much to see. The bed, the kitchen area, a chest of drawers and her boyfriend"s pride and joy: the battered old television. The lights suddenly flickered back on. The electricity board was getting quicker at sorting out the shortages, but then they were having to do it four or five times a day.

Her head was throbbing. She massaged her temples and felt a gash in her forehead. It wasn"t deep but she"d been face down in whatever s**t had built up on the road. If she didn"t clean it there"d be a cardboard box and incinerator with her name on it. She ran through her chores as she made her way to the shower room. She needed to wash, to eat, and to sleep. She desperately needed to sleep.

Her private time was regimented like a military operation. She showered under a trickle of icy water in the dark, washing away the blood and rubble. Ignoring the shivers, she dressed herself in as many layers as she could find and searched the kitchen until she found her supply of protein bars. She ate a single bar on the bed, chewing it into a manageable paste and washing it down with half a cup of the stale water she had boiled before her shift started. It had taken her twenty minutes, leaving her just over five and a half hours for sleep.

It didn"t matter what had happened. Instinct claimed her body and she wrapped herself up in the duvets. Her eyes dropped before her head hit the pillow and for the final moments of consciousness all she could see was the stranger"s face. He was nothing like what she had expected, looking more like a male model than a peeping tom. The weight of his hand still pressed into her shoulder, protecting her or controlling her, it was hard to tell.

“Rach", are you awake?”

Something clattered onto the floor–it sounded like dishes. She blinked in the dull light while her hand patted the floor to find the small alarm clock under the bed. Three hours sleep – just great. She groaned and sat up, there was no point trying for a fourth. Mark was rummaging through the cupboards, trying to be as quiet as he could and failing miserably.

She sat up and watched him creaking open the cupboards, shuffling their pans around in an idle, fruitless search until he found the tin of protein bars which she always kept on the same shelf, in the same cupboard. Four years and he still couldn"t remember–four long, miserable years.

“Hey, you"re awake!” It was a mixture of surprise and delight, Mark"s default mood. He was always happy, always smiling like a simpleton while the world around him fell apart.

Rachel couldn"t repay the sentiment.

“I am now,” she grumbled. “Are you still on duty?”

Usually Mark changed at the police station. She rarely saw him in full uniform–a status quo she preferred. There was something about it–the armour, the badge, something about the whole persona of a cop that turned her stomach. Mark wasn"t a bad looking guy but in his padding and helmet he was repulsive. Cops were different in S"aven. They didn"t solve crime, they didn"t keep the streets safe. Cops in S"aven made sure nothing bad got into the city and nothing good got out. “Protect and Serve” was embroidered into every jacket; they just overlooked the “Ourselves” clause to their oath.

status quo“Yeah, there was this big explosion–did you hear it?”

Lying to him came more naturally than telling the truth. “No, must have slept through.”

“It"s bad. Really bad. Seven dead. Can you believe it?”

Seven? That couldn"t be right. There had been so many bodies wedged under that rubble with their arms and legs poking out in a gruesome game of lucky dip. She stared at Mark totally confused, then she realised; he was talking about cops. All cops care about are other cops. Dead vagrants are as good as litter; blow them to pieces and they"re easier to clean up. But cops, well they"re as precious as gold in the city, never mind that most of them are dirtier than S"aven"s mob cartels.

Seven?“Do you know who was responsible?”

“Terrorists.”

It was always terrorists. Hundreds of anti-government groups in S"aven alone and they"re all lumped together as terrorists. The city would broadcast what to look for: foreigners, dark skinned, religious. They could be Muslims, Jews, Sikhs, even the white Catholics were the enemy. The fact they"d just as well blow each other up along with the police didn"t matter. The government didn"t negotiate with terrorists, no matter how many families were scattered in bite-sized pieces across the slums.

the enemyRachel shook her head; there was no point reasoning with Mark. He believed what the Sergeant told him and he"d uphold his beliefs until someone bludgeoned his thick skull. Sometimes she wondered if that someone would be her. Sometimes she fantasised about it.

“Gary will be here in a minute,” Mark said as he crammed a protein bar into his mouth.

“What? Why?”

Cops made her uneasy, but Mark"s partner Gary made her skin crawl. London"s police force reclaimed their position as law enforcers from the army more than two decades ago when the worst of the country"s troubles had passed. But the boys in blue were easily susceptible to bribery and corruption. Most cops were just hired thugs in uniform who roamed their beats, happily abusing their power and authority. Scotland Yard was under direct control from the government, the only body more corrupt than London"s hand of justice. But the surplus police force that took watch over S"aven and other backwater towns were generally ignored by Parliament and instead were on the payroll of the gang lords that controlled the territories. If there was ever a caricature for how bad the police could actually be it was PC Gary Willis; the poster child for all things wrong with S"aven"s law enforcement.

“He had something he needed to sort out. We were supposed to be first on the scene, Sarge is going to want to know why we weren"t there. We need to get our stories straight.”

It was only then Rachel realised that the second explosion was intended for him. If he"d been doing his job properly his body would be one of the seven and she"d still be asleep. It was a strange thought.

“Why weren"t you there?” She asked before her mind started to run away.

“I was running the patrol as normal, but couldn"t show up without Gary. They"d haul his ass up for investigation. He"s already on two strikes.”

There was no point asking where Gary was, Mark wouldn"t know and Rachel could take too many unpleasant guesses.

“You"re going to get three strikes if this keeps going on, never mind Gary.”

“I"ll be fine. It"s not like the hospital, Rach", we look out for each other. It"s cool.” He turned to her and frowned. “Hey, what happened to your head?”

He sat beside her and brushed the dark strands of hair from her eyes. She felt a pang of guilt. He didn"t deserve to be splattered over the street with the rest of his colleagues.

“I tripped at work. It"s nothing. I just need to sleep.”

This time he got the hint.

“I"ll go meet Gary outside, let you get some rest. Starting your shift soon?”

“A few hours.”

“I guess I"ll see you on my way out tomorrow then.” He kissed her tenderly. Beneath the suit, the ignorance and the lack of common sense, he wasn"t a bad guy. Not like his partner.

A pounding on the door interrupted them. Rachel sighed, she could already feel her body tensing. Mark gave her a sheepish shrug.

“Open up, it"s the police!” It was Gary, and he sounded drunk.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“You"d better let him in before he wakes the entire floor.”

Mark had barely got the lock turned when the door was shoved open. His partner"s first step into the room was edgy; he was more than drunk. Then his eyes fell on Rachel. Cracking his acne-covered face into a smile he leered at her. She was wearing four layers, sitting underneath three duvets, but the gesture still made her feel naked. She pulled the covers over her exposed neck and shied back towards the wall. Gary frightened her and he took great enjoyment in doing it.

“Sorry, was I interrupting?”

“No, I just need to take a leak. Give me a minute and we can go,” Mark said as he rushed to the shower room. He was oblivious to how Rachel felt about his partner. She wondered, if he knew, what he would have done about it.

“So Rachel, Rachel, Rachel,” he said, approaching the bed with more confidence than Mark had ever mustered. “Sweet dreams?”

“You"re going to get Mark sacked if you keep letting him cover for you.”

“Hey, my partner is a team player–can"t help that. Don"t worry, if anything happens to him I can always put a roof over your head. For a price.” His fat fingers reached for the duvet.

The toilet flushed. He"d let go by the time Mark returned.

“Okay, here"s my notebook for you to copy. Let"s go.” Mark gave her a brief kiss on the top of her head and ushered his partner towards the door. Rachel had to take another shower before she could settle.