never going to work.”
Rhys didn’t respond and his eyes dropped to Oscar’s thigh for a moment. The bloodstain had grown to the size of a dinner plate.
Rhys then hunched down, removed a lighter from his pocket, and lit the fuse.
The touch paper hissed and Rhys’ mouth dried as he waited what felt like the longest few seconds of his life.
The firework took off with a whoosh and screamed as it flew a large arc away from them through the air. It left a red trail behind as it sailed between two towers on the other side of the street.
After it had vanished out of sight, Rhys waited.
Nothing.
“Well, that was worth it,” Oscar said. “Good job we have you with us. Fucking hell, Einstein, what do you—?”
Before he could finish, a loud bangechoed through the relatively still city. Cries went up from the mob below and the sounds of a stampede ran away from them.
The mature thing would have been to play it cool. Instead, Rhys threw a tight-lipped and smug smile at Oscar. “See, I told you it would work.”
Oscar walked across the roof and peered down. When he came back to Rhys, he shook his head. “You moved a quarter of them at best.”
Rhys pointed at the other rockets in the pile. “What do you think those are for?”
Before Oscar responded, Rhys hunched down again and jabbed the rockets—two at a time—into the flowerpot.
It took about a minute before he had every rocket angled in the same direction.
Oscar stood by with his hands on his hips and watched Rhys with a sneer the entire time. The atmosphere between the two had been icy before Rhys called him out about Vicky. Now that Rhys had as good as called him a liar and openly stared at his wound, bite, or whatever the fuck it was, it had turned positively Arctic.
Rhys knew just two things about the man: he could fight and he couldn’t be trusted. Rhys needed someone who could fight, but what did Oscar need from Rhys? Maybe he’d be his first meal when the disease turned him.
Another look at the bloody patch on Oscar’s thigh, and Rhys said, “I need you to stay up here.”
“What the fuck?”
“You stay up here and light the fireworks. I’ll go downstairs and get the bikes ready. Once the diseased have left, I’ll open the shutters and we can get out of here.”
“So I just let you lock me up on this roof while you go downstairs?”
Rhys walked across to the edge of the roof again and retrieved another ratty plant pot. He grunted from the weight of it and carried it to the door. After he’d swiped the card reader, he pulled the door wide and used the pot to wedge it open. “Better?”
Oscar grunted.
After a quick scan of the rockets in the pot, Rhys said, “We have nine fireworks to set off. After you’ve set off seven, I’ll open the shutters so we’re ready to go.”
Oscar didn’t reply. Instead, he stared at Rhys and his eyes narrowed. The pause lasted for a good ten seconds before he finally nodded. His voice took on a new level of calm that turned the skin on Rhys’ arms to gooseflesh. “I swear to you, Rhys, if you fuck me over, I’m going to hunt you down and break your fucking spine. You got that?”
The sooner they got to The Alpha Tower, released the shutters, and parted company, the better. Rhys spun on his heel and headed downstairs.
Chapter Eleven
The tension left Rhys’ body the second he descended the stairs. The short time he’d spent up there with Oscar had wound him tighter than a coiled spring. Whatever the man’s agenda, just being around him increased the weight of the anxious lump in Rhys’ gut. Not only did he have to keep his eyes peeled for the diseased, but he had to watch for the knife that could be firmly wedged into his back at any point.
As he walked down the stairs to the main shop floor, Rhys took a deep breath. The smell of rubber helped clear the stink of rot that had lodged firmly in his sinuses. It felt like the stench would never leave
Rhys didn’t respond and his eyes dropped to Oscar’s thigh for a moment. The bloodstain had grown to the size of a dinner plate.
Rhys then hunched down, removed a lighter from his pocket, and lit the fuse.
The touch paper hissed and Rhys’ mouth dried as he waited what felt like the longest few seconds of his life.
The firework took off with a whoosh and screamed as it flew a large arc away from them through the air. It left a red trail behind as it sailed between two towers on the other side of the street.
After it had vanished out of sight, Rhys waited.
Nothing.
“Well, that was worth it,” Oscar said. “Good job we have you with us. Fucking hell, Einstein, what do you—?”
Before he could finish, a loud bangechoed through the relatively still city. Cries went up from the mob below and the sounds of a stampede ran away from them.
The mature thing would have been to play it cool. Instead, Rhys threw a tight-lipped and smug smile at Oscar. “See, I told you it would work.”
Oscar walked across the roof and peered down. When he came back to Rhys, he shook his head. “You moved a quarter of them at best.”
Rhys pointed at the other rockets in the pile. “What do you think those are for?”
Before Oscar responded, Rhys hunched down again and jabbed the rockets—two at a time—into the flowerpot.
It took about a minute before he had every rocket angled in the same direction.
Oscar stood by with his hands on his hips and watched Rhys with a sneer the entire time. The atmosphere between the two had been icy before Rhys called him out about Vicky. Now that Rhys had as good as called him a liar and openly stared at his wound, bite, or whatever the fuck it was, it had turned positively Arctic.
Rhys knew just two things about the man: he could fight and he couldn’t be trusted. Rhys needed someone who could fight, but what did Oscar need from Rhys? Maybe he’d be his first meal when the disease turned him.
Another look at the bloody patch on Oscar’s thigh, and Rhys said, “I need you to stay up here.”
“What the fuck?”
“You stay up here and light the fireworks. I’ll go downstairs and get the bikes ready. Once the diseased have left, I’ll open the shutters and we can get out of here.”
“So I just let you lock me up on this roof while you go downstairs?”
Rhys walked across to the edge of the roof again and retrieved another ratty plant pot. He grunted from the weight of it and carried it to the door. After he’d swiped the card reader, he pulled the door wide and used the pot to wedge it open. “Better?”
Oscar grunted.
After a quick scan of the rockets in the pot, Rhys said, “We have nine fireworks to set off. After you’ve set off seven, I’ll open the shutters so we’re ready to go.”
Oscar didn’t reply. Instead, he stared at Rhys and his eyes narrowed. The pause lasted for a good ten seconds before he finally nodded. His voice took on a new level of calm that turned the skin on Rhys’ arms to gooseflesh. “I swear to you, Rhys, if you fuck me over, I’m going to hunt you down and break your fucking spine. You got that?”
The sooner they got to The Alpha Tower, released the shutters, and parted company, the better. Rhys spun on his heel and headed downstairs.
Chapter Eleven
The tension left Rhys’ body the second he descended the stairs. The short time he’d spent up there with Oscar had wound him tighter than a coiled spring. Whatever the man’s agenda, just being around him increased the weight of the anxious lump in Rhys’ gut. Not only did he have to keep his eyes peeled for the diseased, but he had to watch for the knife that could be firmly wedged into his back at any point.
As he walked down the stairs to the main shop floor, Rhys took a deep breath. The smell of rubber helped clear the stink of rot that had lodged firmly in his sinuses. It felt like the stench would never leave
Similar Books
