painful lump rose in Michael’s throat, and his eyes stung.
Lola released a dismal laugh. “Those are some pretty macabre wind chimes, wouldn’t you say?”
Michael didn’t know what macabre meant, so he chose to not reply.
“Wow, tough crowd.”
At that moment, a crow flew down and landed on the head of a corpse. It pecked at it so quickly, Michael nearly missed it. And maybe he would have had he not heard the wet squelch of its beak digging into the dead man’s face. After several more pecks, it pulled a slice of flesh away with a damp tearing sound then flew off.
Lola coughed. “Anyway, isn’t that the wrong fucking bridge? I thought Tower Bridge was where everyone was hung?”
It took several swallows for Michael to clear the dryness in his throat and for his nausea to pass. “We did a project last year on the Tudors; they hung a lot of people from London Bridge in their times. Because of all the beheadings at Tower Bridge, people often overlook London Bridge’s dark history.”
“Fucking hell, Wikipedia, if I’d known you had a mind full of this shit, I would have hired you as a tour guide.”
Lola then punched him at the top of his shoulder and said, “Come on; let’s get going. I want to get away from this godforsaken place as soon as possible.”
***
Despite his better judgment, Michael followed Lola toward the bridge.
When they got closer, the creaking of ropes groaned like wooden floorboards as the corpses continued to swing in the strong wind.
They were so close that when Michael looked up, he saw blank eyes in bloated and rotting faces that stared down at the river. Some of them had clearly been there for weeks, if not months.
Lola sucked air through her clenched teeth. “Fuck me. Some of them don’t look too clever. I thought they were all just hanging.”
A shake took ahold of Michael as he looked more intently at the bodies. Some of them wore suits and had big, bloody holes where their genitals once were. There were policemen and women still dressed in their uniforms, every part of their exposed skin lacerated from knife wounds.
Lola pointed to those hanging in the middle of the bridge. “They even took some soldiers out. Wow, if we ever needed a sign that the old world had gone, this is the fucking postcard for it. Maybe they should write ‘London’ in big letters across the bodies, take a picture, and sell them in the gift shops. I’d send that to my nan in Dorset, but she’s a cunt; I’d send her a steaming turd in the post. I bet the bitch is still alive, too. She’ll probably be the last to go.”
“How can you joke about it? They were real people, you know.” Real people like mum and Tilly. “They had families and loved ones.”
“I’m just trying to lighten the mood, dude.” With a shake of her head, Lola walked toward the bridge.
Michael followed her.
***
The chorus of creaks grew louder the closer they got. “Sorry for getting upset, Lola. I was thinking about how my mum and sister died.”
“I’d try and block those thoughts out if I were you. If you go down that rabbit hole, you won’t ever come back.”
“My dad hung them from the banisters at home.”
Lola stopped walking and turned to face him. “What the hell?”
“They were already dead. We found them in Dad’s car. Both Mum and Matilda were sitting in the front seat. I don’t know how they died.”
“Was there a hosepipe attached to the exhaust?”
It took a few seconds for Michael to find his words. “How do you know that?”
“Seriously?”
Michael nodded.
“It’s a classic suicide technique; tape a hose to the exhaust of a car, put the mouth of the hosepipe into the vehicle, and start the engine. The car’s fumes will kill you pretty quickly.”
The world around him blurred as Michael lost focus and shook his head. “Mum wouldn’t do that… not to Matilda.”
With a gentle squeeze on his arm, Lola looked into Michael’s eyes. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. Her soft gaze said it all.
“She killed them both?” Michael said.
“Come on, dude, you can’t blame her.” After spinning full circle, Lola turned her palms to the sky. “I mean, look at this place; we’re living in Hell. Who in their right mind would want to stay around during this?”
Before Michael could reply, Lola said, “But why did your dad hang them?”
“We had looters about to burst into our house. He