by George’s house. They positioned so their headlights shone straight through the front gates.
Michael's heart jolted and he lost his breath for a second when George appeared. Once he'd regained his composure, he whispered, “There he is; the man who killed my dad.”
Lola didn’t respond; why should she? She’d lost people too.
Michael opened the window a crack and Lola glared at him.
"No one will see what I’m doing,” he whispered. "If there's anyone outside, I bet you they're watching what's going on up there." A cold breeze rushed in, bringing the words of the men with it.
George shone a spotlight on them. “What the fuck do you want?”
One of the men got out of the truck and walked toward the gates. Tall and slim, he had pale skin and greasy black hair that looked like he hadn’t washed it since before everything fell apart. “We’ve not come to start anything with you, brother.”
That voice! Michael's stomach tightened. He'd recognize it anywhere. The man on the bridge. The man who summoned the boys and took them to see Julius.
“‘Brother’? Because I’m black you think you can call me ‘brother’? You need to wind your neck in, son.”
The man lowered his head. “I don’t mean any disrespect, man.”
“Keep your fucking mouth shut then.” George pointed the light in the man’s face. “What the fuck do you want?”
The man turned away from the strong beam and spoke to the ground. “We’re looking for two kids. The boy’s about nine, and the girl’s about sixteen. You seen them?”
The stirrings of a panic attack swelled in Michael’s chest, and his bowels threatened to let loose.
“Why do you want them?” George asked.
The man straightened his back and stared at George again. “Let us worry about that. You seen them?”
“What’s he doing?” Michael whispered as George walked closer to the gate.
Michael smiled when George spat at the man’s feet and said, “Fuck you, you fucking pervert.”
The man looked like he was going to retaliate until George pointed the barrel of his shotgun through the bars at him. “Don’t think I won’t use this. Now I suggest you turn around and head the fuck home.”
Although he continued to stare at George, the man backed toward the truck. “Don’t make an enemy of me, brother.”
When George shoved the barrel of the gun forward, it rattled against the gate. “Call me brother one more time; I dare ya.”
The two men stared at one another, but the one from the warehouse remained mute. George should end him where he stood. The vile man needed to be wiped from the face of the Earth.
But he didn’t say it again. Instead, he got back in the truck and they slowly pulled away.
When the truck was out of sight, Michael and Lola stared at one another. It was Lola who spoke first. “The enemy of my enemy…”
“Huh?”
Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “Don’t worry. So what do you think? Can we trust him?”
Michael sighed. “I think we should go and see him in the morning. I think we’ll be safe with him. He’ll protect us.”
While stroking her chin, Lola nodded. “Agreed. I want you to promise me you won’t tell him about my mum and sister though.”
“I promise.”
“I’m being serious, Nearly Eleven, I don’t want him to know who I am. It will only make things awkward.”
“All right, I promise.” And he meant it.
Looking back out of the window again, Michael frowned at George’s battered truck. Taking a deep breath did little to settle his churning stomach. Were they really going to see his dad’s killer in the morning?
Knock Knock
As ridiculous as they looked, the pink tracksuit and leggings kept Michael snug as they walked up to George's house. By comparison, the only exposed parts of his body—his hands and face—burned in the freezing air. "Are we doing the right thing, Lola?"
Lola stared straight ahead, her jaw set, her eyes narrowed. She didn't reply.
As they got closer to the truck, Michael's fear intensified. While chewing the inside of his mouth, he stared at the battered vehicle still loaded with food. A lot of houses must have burned to the ground to stock it so well.
“I’m not sure we should be here, Lola.”
“You’ve been bitching since we woke up. If we wait too much longer, it’ll be dark again and we’ll be out on the streets for another night.”
“I’m just not sure we’re making the right choice. What if it’s a trap?”
Lola turned to Michael; her shoulders slumped, and she tilted her head to