Crash II: Highrise Hell (9 page)

When George looked at the other women in the truck, he saw they were all staring at him. Those lucid enough had the same narrowed eyes and tight jaws. He looked at Liz. "I ..." He then realised that he had nothing to add. The silent rage that came back at him forced him to look away.

Continuing, the curvy woman pointed at George. "They dragged her up to Dean's flat because of you. They blindfolded her when she was up there."

The screams from last night came back to him, and his insides shrivelled up. The sounds of the poor girl wailing as a group of men had their way with her echoed through his barren mind.
 

"She had that many hands pawing at her that she didn't know how many men were there." Moving forwards, the curvy woman pushed her round face against the bars. "She didn't know how many fingers were inside her."

All George wanted to do was walk away. That would be the easiest option. But he couldn't. These women didn't have the choice when things got too hard, so why should he take it? Dropping his head and shoulders, he let her continue.
 

"She was raped for hours." There was a growl in her voice when she repeated, "Hours. She was passed between them like an inanimate object that existed purely for their pleasure. They had to carry her back down here because she can't walk." Pointing at the girl, broken and curled up on the floor, her red face twisted. "They fucked her so hard that she can't fucking walk now. Do you understand?"

Grabbing the side of the truck to stop his legs from buckling beneath him, George's world spun. It was impossible to avoid Liz's glare, but he quickly moved on to the girl. She looked back at him through distant and bruised eyes. There was no anger. Anger would have been a sign of hope. She had none. George could have freed her. He could have freed them all before this happened.
 

A softer voice came in, and George looked up to see that it was the girl's younger sister. Moving from beneath the blanket, she held her hands out in front of her as if praying. "Please help us. Please get us out of here."

Some of the other women joined in, "Please. Help us."
 

All George wanted to do was tell them it would be okay. That he would help them out. But Sally was his number one priority. Whatever happened, he had to make sure that his sister and her baby were taken care of. Bowing his head, he sighed. "You all need to keep the noise down. The last thing you need is Dean hearing you."

The chin of the young girl dropped, and Liz's eyes narrowed to slits. Sarah remained on the floor, rocking and staring into space.

* * *

Pointing the key at the truck, George unlocked it.
Shunk
! An orange glow of hazard lights cut through the silent dark. Looking up, George scanned the windows of the tower block. Was anyone there? It looked like the entire place was sleeping. Looks were often deceiving.
 

The sensible choice would have been to not get involved, but these women needed his help.
 

Opening the car door, he removed the packet of biscuits that he'd stored up front. No one knew about his stash, not even Ravi. Pushing the door nearly closed, he stopped when the interior light turned off. Slamming it would attract too much attention.
 

Once he was back by the truck with the women, he slipped the packet of biscuits through a gap in the cage.
 

The rustling called out in the graveyard silence as Liz took them.
 

"Please don't fight over these," he said. "It'll make too much noise, and Dean will come out. There's one for each of you."
 

After staring at him like she was about to throw the packet back in his face, Liz turned around and shared the biscuits with the other women. Some of them ate them whole, quickly turning their attention to the ones that didn't, their wide eyes shimmering with what appeared to be dark intent.
 

Holding his hand out, George looked at Liz. "I don't want to leave any evidence."
 

Snatching the packet away, the curvy lady held it to her chest. Standing up straight, she pursed her lips. "I'm not giving it back unless you let us out."

Fuck
! Checking the block again to see if there was any change at the windows, he then looked back at the woman. "It's not for my sake, love. It's for yours."
 

Examining his features, the woman appeared to be considering her next move.
 

"Dean won't punish me for the biscuits, you know." Making a point to look at all of the other women, George then raised his eyebrows at her.
 

She gave the packet back.
 

"I'm sorry," George said as he shoved it into his pocket. "I'm truly sorry."

"Not that sorry." Her eyes were nothing but slits now. "Not sorry enough to get us out when you had the chance. You're a fucking coward like the rest of them."

Each word dealt him a physical blow that drained a little bit more of his strength. Standing there, he waited to make sure she'd finished. The abuse was no less than he deserved. The angry stares from the rest of the women agreed; especially Liz's.
 

* * *

After he'd walked around the tower block and seen nothing but shadows, most of which he was certain were projections of his own imagination, George returned to the truck. Sarah was still curled in a ball on the floor, her back pressed against the bars of the cage and her knees pulled into her chest. She looked up at him through big, watery eyes.
 

The words 'it'll be okay' sat on George's tongue, but he couldn't say them. That was a lie he wasn't prepared to offer. Even reaching in to hold her hand was off limits. He looked up at the lit window and heard Dean's repeated comment about the women in his mind. "Don't touch the animals!" To help them would make their situation much worse than they could imagine.
 

The younger sister moved towards George and said, "Why did you kill Chris?"

Chris? Was that his name? A series of images flashed through George's mind, and he flinched with every one. The hammer turning slippery in his hands. The man's wide eyes, white against the claret running down his face. The loose jaw and lolling tongue. Resting on the cold truck, he tried to shake his thoughts from his head.
 

"You seem like a nice man." She frowned at him. "You're not like the rest of them, so why did you kill Chris? What did he do to you?"

'The prick used my name' suddenly seemed much less rational now the peer pressure from the gang had gone. 'I had to do what was necessary to save my sister' sounded nobler, but it probably wouldn't hold up either, especially as that was why he hadn't freed them. All this suffering for one person.
 

Looking away from the girl's accusing eyes, he then turned to look at Liz. The softness he'd once seen in her face had been replaced with pure malice. It cut to George's core, and his heart skipped. Thinking no one could hate him more than he hated himself, he now wasn't so sure. While keeping his eyes on Liz, he replied to the girl in a whisper, "I'll get you out of here soon, I promise."
 

Liz's eyes pinched, crow's feet spreading to her temples. Hatred, mistrust, bitterness, he couldn't ascertain which one. All of them were justified. Why was he even saying it?
 

The young girl's voice wavered and stuck in her throat, "Please do, sir. I don't want to be taken into the tower block." At first, she looked down at her sister and then up to Dean's penthouse flat. Her wide eyes lost focus. "I don't want to go up there."

Taking a breath, George held his reply when the swing doors to the tower block were kicked open.
 

As Dean marched towards them, his loud words rode the condensation issuing from his mouth. "Stop flirting with the women, George."

With quickening breath, George's hand felt for the empty packet in his pocket to make sure it was out of sight. How much had Dean seen? Had he been watching from the block the whole time? Did he see him feed the women?
 

"Not feeling very chatty, eh?"

A dry gulp did nothing to relieve George's throat.
 

Pointing a thumb over his shoulder, Dean said, "We've been up playing poker all night. It was high stakes, and I lost." Looking at the women in the cage, he continued, "Ginge won. Slippery fucker." Laughing, he then said, "Anyway, the prize that he's won is a night with one of these beauties."

The face of the younger sister fell as if all of the muscles in it had failed simultaneously.
 

With his stomach lurching, George then shook his head. "No."
 

The smile fell from Dean's face, and his dark eyes lost their spark. "No? What do you mean, no? I wasn't asking for your permission." His grip tightened on the hammer.
 

In that moment, there was only Dean and himself. Wishing he had less layers on so he could move more freely didn't make it a reality, so George clenched his fists and took a calming breath. Looking at Dean's chest, George's martial arts training had taught him that was where the first sign of an attack would be.
 

After looking down at George's hands and then back to the cage, Dean laughed and shook his head. Undoing the padlock, he pointed at the younger of the two sisters. "It looks like it's your lucky night, darling. You're Ginge's prize."

When George swallowed, his throat pinched. Coughing away his heave, he stared at the back of Dean's head. The collective stare of the women bore into the side of his face. Why did he have to be the one to save them?
 

Who was he kidding? He wasn't going to save them. He couldn't leave Sally. The tension slid from his body, and he looked at his toes.
 

"No!" the younger sister called. The timing of it was almost as if it were in response to George's resignation. Her savior had bolted.
 

Refusing to look up, George winced at her words.
 

"Please. Please don't take me to him. Please. Anything but that."
 

When George looked up, he saw Dean reach into the cage, and the girl withdrew.
 

Gritting his teeth, Dean reached in further, and the girl pulled back again. "For fuck's sake!" Grabbing Sarah, he threw a jab across her face. It snapped her head back, and the wet crack echoed around the forecourt.
 

When Sarah hit the floor hard, a couple of the women screamed.
 

The younger girl covered her mouth and looked at her downed sibling.
 

Dragging the now unconscious girl towards him by her hair, Dean raised his hammer. "If you want to keep her alive," he said, spittle spraying from his mouth, "then you need to be coming with me now!" The skin on his face was glowing.
 

The fight fell from the young girl's frame, and she shifted towards Dean, taking his hand. Once she'd stepped outside, he threw her at George and locked the padlock.
 

Looking down at the small girl in his arms, George screwed his nose up at the smell of piss and shit. Swallowing back the hot saliva running down his throat, George noticed she was looking at him with the slightest glimmer of hope.
 

When Dean yanked her away, he laughed. "Steady on, love. You should save those sultry looks for Ginge. We don't want him getting jealous, now do we?"
 

Watching them walk arm in arm towards the tower block, George's nauseous stomach tensed.
 

* * *

After standing still for a time, staring at the closed door of the tower block, George looked over at Liz.
 

A sneer sat on her gaunt face.
 

Walking over to his truck, he took the opportunity to close the door that he'd previously left ajar. There was no worry about him waking Dean now. Slamming it shut, he pressed the button on the key fob.
 

Shunk
!
 

With a spinning head, he had just one clear thought in the chaos. Sally might still be alive. As long as that was a possibility, everything else came second.

Trust

The stark winter sunshine found a gap in George's curtain and hit him directly in the face. The bright light stung and had obviously been on him long enough for a headache to form, a wet throb sending electric shocks through his temples.
 

Pushing his heavy body upright took great effort, and George released a yawning groan. Every muscle ached. When his bare feet touched the cold tile floor, he flinched and pulled them back. After several deep breaths, he took the plunge and pushed them onto the floor again. The shock of holding them there increased his heart rate and threw his eyes wide.
 

Parting his curtains disturbed a thick smell of mold that made the air taste of mud.

There was a white dusting of frost on everything outside. It couldn't have been any later than about eight in the morning. If that was true, then he'd had no more than two hours of sleep. The dizziness and knotting in his stomach agreed with his estimate.
 

Pressing his head against the window pane, the spiky sheet of ice on the inside burning his skin, he looked down on the women below. There was movement in the cage, and it didn't look like there had been any casualties since he left them although the younger of the two sisters was still absent. What was Ginge doing to her?

Watching the prisoners, George noticed the blanket had gone. The ice scratched his forehead as he shook it. "Fucking arsehole."
 

A rumble in George's stomach encouraged him towards the kitchen. Turning away from the window, he then stopped dead when the makeshift hinges on the gate outside creaked. Spinning back around, he saw Ravi slip out into the city.
Where's he going
? It must be a rest day. Why else would Ravi leave the complex? He should follow the boy. He wouldn't last five minutes if he ran into the wrong people out there.