killed herself and Matilda.”
“Maybe your sister wanted to die too. Life ain’t pretty for a woman in this world. It was pretty fucking bad before, but now, it’s insane.”
Instead of replying, Michael said, “There aren’t any children hanging up.”
He watched Lola look all the way down one side of the bridge and then back up the other. “You’re right.”
“They’re too valuable to them. You say it isn’t a good world for women, but it’s a pretty shit world for children too. They don’t get hanged because they end up in places like the warehouse.”
Lola frowned at Michael. “What happened to you?”
Michael looked away. The vehicles hadn’t returned. “That’s got to be twenty minutes now; we should go.”
Although Michael could feel the intense scrutiny from Lola, she didn’t question him any further.
With the wall as a support, Michael got to his feet. Once he was upright, he tested his bad ankle and nearly fell to the ground again.
“How is it?”
“I can’t walk on it, but it’s getting better. I think it’ll be okay in a day or two.”
Lola held her arm out for support and, taking them one at a time, led him down the stairs.
Both of them watched the other side of the river as they moved. If the men returned, they needed to see them early—a quick getaway was virtually impossible.
***
With the bridge far behind them, Michael leaned on Lola, and they hobbled down another deserted street. “I’m sorry.”
“Will you stop apologizing? If we hadn’t jumped off the bridge, we’d be in the back of their truck right now.”
Grinding his jaw against the biting wind, Michael scanned the empty street. Litter rode the strong currents. The terraced houses all seemed to be empty, although he couldn’t be sure because an impenetrable darkness sat just beyond the windows. Michael’s skin turned to gooseflesh; anyone could be watching them right now. They could see the vulnerable pair and decide to jump them at any point.
A particularly grimy house stood on their right. The paint on the front door peeled away in flakes, and the grass in the garden had grown to waist height. The place had, without a doubt, been abandoned a long time ago, long before London fell into ruin.
Distracted by the house, Michael didn’t see it coming.
But he sure as hell felt it when the plastic smothered his face and cut off his breathing.
Watched
For a few heart-hammering moments, Michael couldn’t see a thing. He flapped and batted at his face until he’d finally pulled the plastic bag off. As he watched it fly down the road, he released a heavy sigh.
Lola smirked. “Bit jumpy?”
“Whatever,” Michael said. On his next step, his ankle turned over and sent searing pain up his shin. He cried out.
Lola watched him with her hands on her hips. She then turned her back to him and hunched over as if to show him her bottom.
Michael didn’t move.
“Jesus, Nearly Eleven, I’m not standing like this for my own fucking good. Get on my back; I’m sick of your moaning.”
She didn’t need to tell him twice.
Lola struggled and grunted as she carried Michael. It left little room for conversation.
The houses were as abandoned on this street as on the last. Empty windows stared out at them, watching them pass and concealing the lurkers within.
Pain continued to pulse through his ankle, but it helped to not walk on it. “It’s getting better, you know. I think I’ll be able to walk on it in a day or two.”
“Good. I don’t want to have to carry you for weeks.”
Michael sighed.
“Fucking hell, Nearly Eleven, I’m only playing with ya. I’ll help you for as long as you need me to. Jesus, you need to be less sensitive, dude.”
It was a good thing Lola couldn’t see his face because his eyes had started to water. She’d been so good to him—he was lucky to have found her. Maybe he should trust her more; she needed to understand where he’d been. He cleared his throat. “I recognized the voices of the men on the bridge, Lola. They were the men from the warehouse. They’re bad men. I hear their voices in my head every time I go to sleep.” Tears ran down his cheeks. “They did awful things to the boys. I was one of the lucky ones that managed to escape before anything horrible happened to me. I feel terrible for those I left behind. Everyone had a turn. That was how it worked, but I missed my turn…”
Michael could tell