Red Gloves, Volumes I & II by Christopher Fowler

Author:Christopher Fowler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2017-06-20T04:00:00+00:00

The Third Day

‘What’s the problem?’

‘It hurts. Let me take a break for a second.’ Galia dropped back down on his soles and rubbed his thighs. ‘Okay, let’s try again.’ He reached up onto tiptoe and fitted his screwdriver into the screw head, carefully scraping at the layers of paint that covered it. ‘Russian workmanship,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘They’d rather keep painting over it than bother to sand it once.’ The screwdriver skidded across the ceiling, hitting the neon light panel. ‘Support my legs, will you?’

Mia had no desire to touch him. Her skin was coated in a layer of sweat, her eyes were gritty. They had finished the apple and had agreed to eat the nutrition bar later. Neither of them expected anyone to show up on Sunday, so they would have to hold out at least another twenty hours, until the remaining members of the archive’s workforce came into work on Monday.

‘Got me?’

‘Yes.’ She gripped harder. His legs felt surprisingly muscular; she had figured he was a weakling—it had taken this long for him to think of climbing out through the roof. In fairness, neither of them had been thinking rationally, because until now they had expected to be released any minute. The ceiling panel was small and unpromising, not at all as it might appear in a film.

At his fifth attempt, one of the screws holding the panel began to turn and eventually came out. The second one gave more easily, the third easier still. But the thread on the fourth had torn, and there was no way of removing it. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she said, staring at the ceiling panel. ‘Can’t you just force it?’

‘How?’ Galia asked. ‘I can’t get any leverage up there.’

‘Then let me try. You can hold me up, can’t you?’ They switched roles. Once he had balanced himself, Galia raised her above his head, balancing her on his thigh. He let her hammer at the panel with the butt of the screwdriver. One half of it slowly lifted, but the metal was folding diagonally, raising only a triangle that was not large enough for a cat to climb through.

‘It’s no use,’ she said. ‘I can’t move it back any further.’

‘What can you see?’

‘Nothing, just black and a bit of the wall. Wait, lift me up a bit higher.’ She pushed her arm through the hole and felt something wet. A small amount of water was dripping into the shaft.

‘There must be a leak somewhere above us.’ She cupped her hand and carefully brought it back through the hole. The water was iridescent with petrol contamination and looked grey in her hand. She touched her tongue to it.

‘I don’t think you should drink that,’ said Galia.

‘We haven’t got anything else. It’s a bit brackish, tastes like water, though. Take the lid off my facial cleanser and pass it up.’

He handed her the plastic lid, and she pushed her arm through the space once more, waiting for the cup to fill. ‘I

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