Highrise Hell by Michael Robertson

Author:Michael Robertson [Robertson, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Action & Adventure, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Crime, Thrillers & Suspense, Crime Fiction
Amazon: B00IR55JRO
Published: 2014-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

Burn Baby Burn

George's eyes flashed open and he gasped for breath. With his pulse pounding and his vision swimming, he tried to look around his room. Everything was as it should be. So why did he feel like it wasn't?

The cold had turned his nose and ears numb. Pulling his covers close, he groaned, his heavy limbs willing him to remain in bed.

Frothy saliva had built up in his mouth overnight. When he swallowed, he could taste tar. Sniffing did nothing to stop his nose from running.

The strong winter sun pierced the gap in his curtains, hitting the wall just above his head with the certainty of a laser beam. When he rubbed his face, everything ached.

The odd feeling he'd woken with suddenly made sense. It was morning, and he couldn't hear a thing. There were that many people in the block that someone was usually walking up and down the stairs at any one point. But there was nothing.

Had they gone on a raid without him?

No, not without the food truck.

But where were the keys?

Sitting up so quickly his head spun, George grabbed his jeans from the floor and fished the keys from the pocket.

Staring at them, he shrugged. Where the fuck is everyone?

With aching muscles, a sour taste in his mouth, stinging eyes, and the thick damp of his room clogging his sinuses, George decided to stand up. Anything would make him feel better than he currently did.

When his bare feet hit the cold, tiled floor, all of the muscles in his body tensed, and he drew a sharp breath. No matter how many times he got out of bed in this place, he was always surprised by just how icy the floor got.

Placing a hand on his chest, his heart thumping against his palm, he took several breaths, the cold air biting into his lungs.

Lifting his hands to rub his face, he noticed the slight traces of dried blood still there.

Taken from his thoughts by a loud knock on the door, George jumped and looked up. The shot of adrenaline quickened his breath, so he allowed it to settle as he stared.

It came again, the sharp crack pulling George's neck tight. The words popped from his dry throat, "Who is it?"

"Si."

Si was Dean's best mate. For this reason, George avoided him at all costs. It was a shame because of all the members in the gang, he was the one that George liked the most. But how could he trust someone so close to that psychopath? "What do you want?"

"Dean wants everyone outside." There was the slight whine of apology to his tone.

Lifting his shoulders in a huge shrug, George then raised his middle finger at the back of the door.

An expectant silence hung in the air.

Mouthing 'fuck off' served no purpose, so he sighed, "Okay, give me five minutes."

Listening to Si's footsteps as he descended the stairs, George stared at the door for a moment longer before muttering, "Cunt," and falling back onto his bed.

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