Disintegration

his wife and children, sandwiched between useless credit cards and redundant bank notes. There they were: Prisha, Seti, and Annia, still beautiful despite the horizontal crease in the picture which ran across their smiling faces. And just behind them, sitting with her arms around them all, was his Harj. God, how he missed her.
    “Bloody hell,” a voice yelled suddenly from one of the other flats nearby, distracting him from his darkening thoughts. It sounded like Driver or Gordon, and it seemed to have come from the general direction of the shared apartment. Jas jumped to his feet and ran toward the source of the sound, tucking the photo back into his wallet as he moved. What had happened now? He guessed it was probably a fight, most likely Webb and Lorna at each other’s throats again.
    Jas burst into the shared flat and immediately stopped and screwed up his face in disgust. The stench hit him like a punch in the face. Anita was leaning over the side of the sofa, spitting and retching. On the pale yellow carpet beside her was a puddle of vomit, the color and consistency of red wine. Most of the others who were in the flat were now standing around the edges of the room, backs pressed against the walls, as far as they could get from the foul-smelling, bilious mess on the floor. Only Caron was brave enough to get any closer, but even she was forced to quickly scuttle out of the way as Anita lunged forward and threw up again. The sound of her heaving, followed by the splatter and splash of vomit, made the bile rise in Jas’s throat and he struggled not to be sick himself. He leaned out of the door he’d just come through, desperate to get some air.
    “Can somebody get me something to clean this up with?” Caron asked as she scrubbed at the floor with a strip of sick-soaked rag. No one moved. “Come on!” she snapped, the tone of her voice finally prompting Gordon to start looking through some of the boxes of supplies which had been collected earlier. As Anita began to retch again Jas took the opportunity to get out. He stepped back out into the corridor and walked straight into Harte, who was coming the other way.
    “What’s going on in there?” he asked, concerned.
    “Anita’s chucking up,” Jas answered. “Must’ve eaten something dodgy.”
    “Something we brought back with us?”
    “How am I supposed to know? Go and have a look for yourself if you’re that interested.” He sighed, grimacing. His stomach was still churning.
    “No thanks,” Harte replied, gingerly peering around the edge of the door. “She’s probably just gorged herself like the rest of us. I’m not feeling too good…”
    “What’s all the noise?” Webb shouted, appearing at the end of the corridor with a can of lager in one hand and three more in the other. “Jesus, what’s that smell?”
    “Anita’s sick,” Harte replied. He watched Webb stop and consider his options. It didn’t take him long to decide what to do next.
    “Fucking stinks in here,” he said over his shoulder as he turned and walked away.

 
     
    8
     
    Webb clattered down the stairs, spinning quickly around as he reached the bottom of each flight, desperate to get out of the drab concrete building. Having spent some time outside today he felt more confined by his gray-walled surroundings than ever, and the stench of Anita’s vomit just now had been the final straw. If he’d been able to drive he might even have risked getting into a car and disappearing for a while. Sometimes there wasn’t much to choose between spending the evening with the dead outside or the morbid, miserable fuckers inside. The last thing he wanted was to sit there and listen to their tedious conversation going around and around in circles until someone got upset or started a fight—that was inevitably what happened. He felt trapped. The whole world was empty and he was free to leave at any time, but he still felt trapped.
    In the shadows of the block of flats, near to the area where they collected rainwater, Webb kept his pride and joy. To the others it was just another car but to him it was an escape. Sure, it wasn’t much of an escape given that he couldn’t drive it, but it was something. It wasn’t what he’d have chosen if he’d had more of a choice, and he knew his mates would have laughed at him if they’d seen its color and the engine size, but it was where he was able to find a little sanctuary. He climbed in, shut the door and turned the key in the