Ash knew the area was deserted, no one came down the streets that were waiting for the wrecking ball, and though the demolition guys would make a cursory search through each house before the actual demolition, to make sure no one was squatting there, she had no idea how long that could be. She decided it was best to not fall and injure herself.
Getting down from the attic was another trial of endurance. Ash took her time in positioning herself at the opening to the attic. She leaned her weight on her hands and slowly made her way down.
Bracing herself, she allowed her feet, then legs and bottom to slide over the edge to hang from her fingertips. She peered through the space between her arms as she tried to judge her landing spot was safe enough to take her weight as she dropped.
If she’d thought about it, she could have brought the ladder from next-door rather than risk killing herself getting back out of the attic.
She landed heavier than she would have liked, but the landing was safe and she scuttled off into the front bedroom to listen for any disturbance downstairs.
She heard nothing. No sound from Nigel, who should at least have been whining for his next fix.
Ash patted her pocket to make sure she still had the plastic box with Nigel’s stash and she made her way down the stairs, keeping to the edges as she had on the way up the other set, next-door.
Ash glanced around the back room and the kitchen area, all in darkness, nothing moving, and she moved forward.
The passageway between the back room and the front room was three or four feet long and it passed across the opening to the cellar. The houses used to have a door at the top of the cellar steps, but the door had been missing for a while.
Ash went into the front room, squinting her eyes because the glare from the sun through the missing boards came in at just the right angle to dazzle her.
She made her way to the bundle of rags, blankets and cardboard where the scrapyard man had dropped Nigel.
Her eyes adjusted to the light and she could see he wasn’t there.
“Nige?” she called. “I’ve got some ‘junk’ for ya.”
She went across to the pile of rags and shifted them about with her foot.
Ash heard something moving and she turned around in time to see Nigel running at her, head down. He tackled her to the ground and was fortunate in her landing. The pile of rags cushioned her fall a little more than the floor would have.
The air knocked out of her lungs, she lay stunned.
Nigel scrambled up to sit on her stomach, pinning her down. He pulled first one arm, then the other under his knees to make sure she couldn’t fight back.
“Do I know you, kid?” Nigel asked.
“Nige, it’s me! I’ve got your junk! I’ve been ‘juggling’ for you for a bit. I fetched your stash from the scrapyard. Let me up!”
A fleeting glimpse of recognition passed across Nigel’s eyes and he studied Ash’s face closely. “Yeah? So where is it?” he snarled.
“In me pocket! Let me up!”
Ash jiggled around, trying to move her hand to the pocket where the plastic box was.
Nigel leaned his weight off her and she reached into her pocket. The plastic box got caught in the pocket and she couldn’t get it out. Nigel swatted her hand away and got the box himself.
He opened the box and looked inside. “Where’s the other package?” he said, glaring at Ash.
“Nige! That’s all I found! I swear!” Ash held up her hands to the best of her ability. Her awkward position, half-buried in the rags prevented her full movement.
Ash stopped moving. Nigel’s expression had changed and she sensed danger. He looked at her as she lay on the rags and he licked his lips.
“How old are you, kid?” Nigel said, his voice husky and low. Nigel placed the box on the floor beside him and crawled forward to Ash.
“I’m nine,” Ash said in a scared whisper.
“Same age I was…”
“Same age you was when what?”
“When I met Mike,” Nigel said. He pushed down on Ash’s shoulder, preventing her from wriggling away.
“Let me get your fix, mate, you must be hurting,” Ash said, trying to push back into the rags so she could get out from Under Nigel’s hand pressing down.
“That’ll wait.”
Nigel’s eyes roved down Ash’s ragged clothes.
“I reckon you’re hiding that other package. Let me see.”
“I’m fucking not hiding any fucking junk! That’s what I’ve got, it’s all there, in that box!” Ash thrashed about in panic, she felt like a trapped animal and didn’t like the sound of his voice or the look in his eye.
Nigel thrust his other hand between her legs. He fumbled around for a moment, an expression of puzzlement on his face.
He looked down at where his hand was fumbling and then he looked up to Ash’s terror-stricken face.
“You’re a fucking GIRL!” Nigel said. “What the fucking hell have you done to your hair?”
“Let me up, Nigel, let me go. You’re not interested in me! Get your fucking junk and sort out your fix!”
Nigel removed his hand from her crotch, but didn’t move his hand from her shoulder.
Ash thought she had persuaded him to let her go, but then he put his hand to his own groin, pressed it gently and smiled.
“Nah, I don’t fucking think so…” he said.
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