Chapter 2. Leaving the Flat.
Caro named several gangs. Sara recognised a few, like the Raptors and the Homewreckers from the news. Amir raised a hand. ‘Is the boy chipped?’ Caro checked her phone. ‘The tracker is active.’ Caro showed Amir the tracker’s location. Amir said, ‘Outside our jurisdiction. The girl’s coming with us.’ They went out and got in the lift. Graffiti promised Sara a good time if she just called a number. The second half of the number had, unfortunately, been erased. Sara rubbed her arms to regain heat, feeling her heart race.
An elderly lady (92 years old) with an impressive walking stick and her dog, a Chihuahua, stepped into the lift on the floor below. The lady’s eyes stung due to Rayhan’s aftershave and watered. Her dog whined (it felt depressed). The lady smiled (with her second-hand dentures) at Amir. He looked like a sweet innocent teenager, with his chessboard, book, and cards. There was an awkward silence in the crowded lift until she got out (Amir did not notice). Sara and the others rode the lift to the basement as the old lady wondered whether she had taken her heart medication (she had).
Amir and Caro waited inside with Sara while curious thieves who had been busy breaking into a storage unit took a break. Sara saw the thieves stare at Caro. They looked ready to flee at any moment. Caro ignored them. She held Sara’s arm. Amir’s men went outside and scanned the area. Sara saw that they scanned both the ground and the rooftops of surrounding buildings. Amir drew a silly figure on a wall. Rayhan lit a cigarette and people looked at him with ill-hidden disapproval.
It was a sunny day. Amir went out and said, ‘I wish it would rain.’ Sara laughed awkwardly. Caro brought Sara out. People passing by looked at them with some interest while evading electric scooters. However, most stared at their phones while their dogs ate shit and their children ate bogies. Couples held hands and were just as captured by their evil phones. Sara regretted her life decisions (relatable). Perhaps she should have contacted the police after all.
I just endured small talk around the coffee machine. It was awkward because someone asked where I was from and I asked if it mattered. My colleagues laughed and asked about my previous experience. I told them that I had worked here and there, most recently as an administrator. I added that I had been with the tax office until budget cuts made them pass me on. They laughed again and said that they were glad to have me.
