Page 48 of Drift

A nod was sent the guards his way, and as they shifted for Drift, he snarled, vaulting the pallet, then scrambled up high for the roof. Forced to pull a crowbar out of his backpack, he prised open a roof tile.

By the time he made it out into the carpark, he’d knocked the sensors on the cameras to clear his way just as one of the guards from the storeroom broke free of the supermarket.

“Hey, you little fucker. Get back here.”

And when in life did thateverwork? Drift came to a complete stop, let out a very long, calm breath, then turned back around and went over to the closest car.

Looking troubled that Drift had stopped, turned around… listened… the guard stopped just short of the car Drift stood by. Giving a brief smile the guard would never see, Drift smashed the car window, then pulled a beer bottle out.

The guard’s eyes startled as the fine mix of Molotov Cocktails sloshed side to side, looking almost like black tar in the streetlight.

Drift shook it off—and lit up the night as he threw it in the broken window.

As he cleared the blast zone, the flash of heat and fire lit up the carpark, knocking the guard off his feet. For a moment, the flames held Drift so, so still: how flickers of orange and red danced in the darkness, calming him one moment with how the flames burned through any offer of pitch-black eyes, then pissing him off with how the bitch writhing on the floor was on Ava’s payroll. And there were so many other paid bitches of hers…

Feeling dampness to his hand, Drift glanced down. The drip of blood to concrete from his knuckles and fingertips shook him out of it. A little dazed, not sure when he’d cut it, why the guard wasn’t writhing anymore on the floor as he stood over him, he cupped his hand to his chest and cursed at how smashing the window hadn’t been the smartest idea tonight.

He was gone in the next breath, down the alleyway and into the road beyond.

No hard pound of feet followed after him, but Ava knew most back alleyways. She wasn’t wrong about allowing the rats to run in the maze she owned. So Drift took what freedom he had, running hard and fast. He didn’t know how long he ran, just that he finally slumped down amongst the dirt and debris of the abandoned court he’d stayed in.

Tired and dirty. He felt so goddamn tired, so goddamn pissed off, but… dirty, and it had fuck all to do with the usual dirt digging into his skin from being on London streets. This had been with him so much longer, and he hugged his legs close to his chest.

The irony of the derelict court building and how any sense of safety had left London streets made him choke, and he threw up until it hurt.

Touch. He couldn’t fucking stand her touch. Yet…

He let out a cry, burying his head.

“Jesus… Jesus fuckingChrist.”

Giving a groan, he tugged up his sleeve to look at the damage done in the car park. No cut on his wrist called where the blood had come from, and he pulled over his larger duffle bag, ignoring the dark crusted flakes that made scales of his skin. After sorting through the backpack, he pulled out some Anadin, dry-swallowed a few, then took out a small cannister of Nitrous oxide and a balloon.

Taking a deep inhale of the oxide he trapped, he screwed his eyes shut, wishing the fall on as he rested his head back, ignoring the cries and screams he knew only echoed around his head.

Ava.

It had taken so long to see it. How some… some kids were just born… ill.

And around him, people got up, laughed, partied over the ashes of others taken out during pandemics, calling out how poison already owned the streets. But another crept through the sewers beneath it, playing with madness, and sometimes, just sometimes, Drift hated the world and its blindness enough to let it. To run with it.

Which meant he hated himself too, because sometimes, just sometimes, his body reacted to the kind of poison Ava poured into his head, needing to run with it.

Out became the only sane option in an insane world.

Chapter 16

MAD WORLD

Stood in the Oval and not having slept yet, Gray rubbed a hand over his face before focusing on his whiteboard as the sound of the printing drifted in behind him. He’d left Jack in bed with Jan when he’d gotten back, not wanting to disturb the peace Jan found. Eventually, Jack had needed to head off to work, leaving Gray no time to ease into a discussion over Cutter let alone Jude. So with Gray working profiling in the Oval, Ray’s brief check on Jan an hour later found him working as well, mostly covering Monique’s workload. Jan hadn’t wanted to stay off work, but with Shaun needing to rule out links between Chris’s accident and Jason’s murder, he hadn’t been given much choice, more so from Gray. That wasn’t entirely for Jan’s well-being. If anything was said about Chris bullying Monique and Jan, Gray wanted to make sure there was no evidence on the onboard camera that his own Merc had been there after the crash. White noise over Shaun thinking Gray had been involved with the accident he wouldn’t entertain. Gray had left Ray reviewing that footage now he’d gotten it from the MC.

Jan’s quiet as the morning passed, more his side glances his way when he’d brought Gray a coffee in started to question if Grayhadput Chris in hospital, but he didn’t come out and say it. He would, but everything took time with Jan, so Gray gave him the space.

Gray had used the uneasy quiet to pay a visit to the new murder scenes in Birmingham and closer to home. The rest of the afternoon had seen him chasing any similar murders as he worked from the Oval, ultimately leaving him standing in front of his whiteboard, profiling.

He needed to talk Jude to Jack tonight, but whilst Jack was at work, he had to give Jan headspace to deal with Monique. He knew Jack would want good headspace to be there for Jan too. So after taking a sip of his third coffee, he picked up Rita’s report.

There it was in black and white.

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