Free Them or Us by David Moody Page B

first meets the guy who’ll no doubt go on to change her life forever on his way to saving the world. Christ, what’s wrong with me? I can already feel myself welling up. By the time they inevitably end up in bed together, I’ll be crying like a fucking baby.

 
    4
    SOME FUCKER’S BANGING ON the door. I keep my eyes screwed shut, nowhere near ready to start another day just yet. If I stay still long enough and don’t react, maybe whoever it is will give up and go away. I half open one eye and look around. It’s light outside, not long after dawn. My book’s on the floor. My tired body aches more than it did when I went to sleep.
    The hammering on the door continues. I know who it is now. He lifts the flap of the mail slot and shouts at me, but I don’t react. I know he’s not going anywhere, but I can’t be bothered to move. I make him wait a little longer.
    “Come on, Danny, I know you’re in there.”
    “Piss off, Rufus.”
    He starts knocking on the window, rapping on the glass with his knuckles, and the sound hurts my head. I’ll go and see what he wants, then get rid of him. Rufus has an annoying habit of coming here when he’s got nowhere else to go, wanting to talk for hours about nothing in particular. Sometimes I can tolerate him, but I don’t feel so good this morning and I’m not in the mood. Sometimes he stays all day and we play cards together and put the world to rights (although that particular problem’s bigger than both of us), but not today. Most of the time I’ve forgotten everything he’s said by the time I’ve managed to push him back out the door.
    He’s not going anywhere. Admitting defeat, I start to get up but then fall back down again when the morning cough hits me. I’ve probably smoked less than a handful of cigarettes in my whole life, but these days I sound like a chain-smoker who’s had a fifty a day habit for the last twenty years. The cough comes in wrenching waves, and I know there’s nothing I can do to fight it. I manage to stand up and steady myself on the back of the chair as another hacking burst overtakes me. My sleeping bag drops down around my feet like a used condom, leaving me freezing cold and exposed. One more painful, tearing retch, strong enough to make me feel like I’m being turned inside out, and the coughing finally starts to subside. I spit out a lump of sticky red-green phlegm into my empty coffee cup, step out of the sleeping bag, and stagger over to open the door.
    “What?”
    “You took your time,” he says, not impressed.
    “What do you want?”
    Rufus glares up at me (he’s a good few inches shorter than I am), then ducks under my outstretched arm and pushes his way into the house.
    “You’re a pain in the backside, Danny. Why didn’t you just let me in?”
    “ I’m a pain in the backside? You’re the one banging on the window like a goddamn idiot.”
    “Didn’t you hear me knocking? Fucking hell, I’ve been out there for ages. It’s freezing outside.”
    “It’s winter, what do you expect? Anyway, it’s no better in here.”
    I climb back into my sleeping bag, pull it up, and sit down again. He stands in front of me in the middle of the living room, flapping his arms around himself to try and get warm.
    “You should light a fire or something,” he says, blowing into his hands.
    “Can’t be bothered. Too much effort.”
    “You need to start taking more care of yourself. You’re not looking so good.”
    “Thanks.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    He shakes his head in despair, then picks my book up off the floor and starts flicking through the pages. He has to hold it right up to his face to be able to read anything. Poor bugger’s eyesight is bad. He was a voracious reader, but he’s been reduced to reading children’s editions because the print’s larger. He used to wear strong glasses, but the lenses got broken a few weeks back when he got caught up in the middle of a fight he had nothing to do with. Rufus