Crash III: There's No Place Like Home by Michael Robertson Page A

down, his lethargy pinned him to the bed and he looked over at the still drawn curtains. Damn it!
    For the next twenty minutes or so, Michael and Lola lay there in silence. Michael stared at the ceiling and Lola smoked.
    “This room reminds me of being in the spare room at home,” Michael said. “Four of us would lie in bed all day. We’d go hours without talking to one another.”
    A glaze covered Lola’s eyes as she continued to stare up. “Sounds grim.”
    “It was. I can see why Mum and Matilda killed themselves.” Stabbing pains ran through his heart and tears stung his eyes. “Things were bad at home about six months before, when Dad lost his job. We were taken out of school and sent to the local comprehensive.”
    Lola turned to face him; her eyes dead, her tone flat. “I’d imagine it was hard having to slum it with the other kids.”
    “It may be difficult for you to understand, but it was. Matilda and I were targeted by bullies because we’d been privately educated. When the teachers stopped turning up, things got even worse.”
    The smoke hung so heavy in the air Michael had to get up and away from it. His ankle ached as he paced the room. “If we weren’t being bullied at school, we’d come home and listen to Mum and Dad arguing all night about money and how Dad couldn’t provide for the family. I’d watch Dad try to get a job every day even though there weren’t any.”
    Lola looked like she didn’t give a shit. Michael continued anyway. “Then Mum and Matilda disappeared. The men in the trucks arrived soon after.”  
    No response.
    She really didn’t care. When he pulled one of the curtains aside and peered out, he froze.
    The panic surging through him must have been clear on his face because when he looked at Lola, she sat up straight and leaned toward him. “What? What is it?”
    As he stared at her, he shook his head. The words wouldn’t come.  
    When Lola rushed over to his side, she looked out of the window.  
    Silence sat between them before she finally said, “Oh shit.”

Supply Run

    “Will you come away from that bloody window? You’ve been standing there for hours.”
    Although he’d heard her and even turned to look at her, Michael returned his attention to outside the window. He couldn’t look away. Not now he knew who their neighbor was.  
    The daylight was fading outside. “I can’t believe he hasn’t left the house all day. Do you think he’s even in there?”
    Lola lay on her back and stared up at the ceiling. “Of course he is. There’s no way he’d leave that truck unguarded. He’s there for sure.”
    Michael looked up the road again. The grand house George stayed in looked out of place amongst all the semi-detached houses. Not only did it exist on its own plot of land, but it also had a wall surrounding it.  
    Black gates provided the only access to the property. They stood strong and imposing, much like the ones Michael’s cul-de-sac had. Except George had been cleverer than they had been; he’d parked his truck sideways across them to prevent anyone from getting in.
    It didn’t look like the food on the back of the truck had diminished either.
    The heat in the room had dropped with the oncoming night, but the chill that ran through Michael had nothing to do with temperature. “It feels weird to know the man that killed my dad is staying only a few houses down.”
    Lola continued to stare up at the ceiling and didn’t respond.  
    Rubbing his sore eyes, he kept his focus on the girl. “It’s getting dark out. What shall we do? Shall we move on tonight?”
    Still not looking at him, Lola shook her head. “No.”
    “What shall we do then?”
    “I think we should rob him. He has enough food in there to feed a small army. He won’t notice if a few bits go missing.”
    The memory of his dad’s final moments came back. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
    Instead of replying, Lola lit another cigarette.

    ***

    The night had settled in to