58

We’re halfway across the bridge as the looters start across from the opposite side. Flaming torches held aloft, baseball bats and already-looted products in their hands, they look like the cast of The Purge. Their march is purposeful, their posture threatening. These people are out to get whatever they can.

‘Stay close,’ I say to Cabressa.

There’s fear in his expression. Panic in his eyes. I’m guessing that all of a sudden he doesn’t feel so safe here in the city he controls.

We keep moving along the bridge. Keep to one side. Watch the mob of looters advancing towards us.

They’re shouting, yelling. Some have carryalls filled with loot slung over their shoulders. Baseball bats slam down onto the metal railings of the bridge. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Next to me Cabressa flinches. Starts to slow.

‘Keep moving,’ I say. ‘Make yourself look non-threatening. No eye contact.’

He does as I say. Unpuffs his chest. Looks at the ground.

That’s when the crowd spot us. Catcalling and whistles.

‘Where you going?’

‘You running the wrong way.’

‘The best stores are back the way you came.’

‘Got nothing to say?’

They swarm around us. Blackouts are when all the usual bets get voided. Law enforcement can’t cope. And in the darkness simmering frustrations boil over into anarchy. These people are a pack; they move as one, think as one. Determined to take whatever they can for as long as the lights stay off.

Someone pulls me into the crowd. The fug of sweat and adrenaline feels like it’s suffocating me. My vision blurs, and I trip and fall against a big guy in a Chicago Bulls shirt. Get spun around. Lose sight of Cabressa.

The looters keep moving. I try to fight my way forward, but the surge of people is too strong and I find myself pulled back along the bridge the way we’ve come. Again I try to turn back around, but the crowd is too tightly packed. Scanning the bridge behind us I see more looters behind this group. We’re not going to be able to get to the other side, to the hotel. There’s no room. A stick is thrust into my back. A carryall filled with electronics equipment hits me in the side of the head.

Gasping from the pain, I turn and scan the faces in the crowd for Cabressa. I spot him a little ways off, sandwiched between two muscular guys who are carrying a huge flatscreen television. If I want to run, this is my chance. I weigh up my options. Try to decide whether to attempt to get away and leave Cabressa.

Much as I want to run, to get clear of Cabressa and everything that’s gone down tonight, I can’t. If I let Cabressa out of my sight, law enforcement might never get this chance again. I need to finish this job, end my alliance with Monroe. And Cabressa needs to pay for all that’s gone down tonight; all the people he’s killed. I can’t allow him to disappear in the wind. So I change tack, and push sideways through the looters towards Cabressa.

As I reach him the shouting starts behind us. A second group of looters have caught up with this one. They’re pulling carryalls from the first group’s hands. Trying to wrestle the flatscreen televisions away from the people who have them.

I look at Cabressa. ‘This is going to turn nasty. Come with me.’

For a moment he looks confused. But as fighting between the two looter groups breaks out around us there isn’t time to explain. I turn and yell to Cabressa, ‘Run!’

We sprint to the side of the bridge.

Grabbing Cabressa’s arm I pull him towards the railings. ‘Climb,’ I shout.

‘What?’

‘They’re fighting. We need out.’ I climb the railing fast as I can. Put my leg over the top rail, straddle it. Ready. ‘Come on.’

He takes another look at the two groups of looters clashing over their stolen goods and climbs over the railing. ‘What now?’

I put my other leg over the rail. Take hold of his arm. ‘Take a deep breath.’

As he opens his mouth, I jump. Pulling him with me.

We fall, straight and fast. Disappear into the water’s inky blackness.