Montparnasse Cemetery
A MONGREL AND A ROLLED-UP NEWSPAPER.
Get him to hand over his wallet. He always keeps a lot of cash. Cards and cash.
My voice catches in the cold night air.
Sami grins, and my stomach turns to sand.
In the lobby, there are mirrored panels all around. I go from one to the other, rattling handles, pushing doors, but there’s no way out.
Sami’s on the other side of the glass. He rakes a hand through his hair, travelling up in the lift cage. The dim light hollows his eyes and cheeks, his face a death mask.
It’s hot, and my clothes tighten like knots.
When my father speaks, it comes from above and all around.
Is Alex there? Alex, are you there? he booms, words crackling with static and disbelief.
Yes, I’m here, down here! I scream to the ceiling. My face shudders in the mirrored corners, flushed red with fear and rain.
He’s still speaking.
I wait, counting heartbeats. Christmas lights pulse in the dusty glass, and my reflection dissolves, spins around.
Finally, Sami bursts through the door, my father’s wallet open on his palm, brown and bloody, throbbing like a moth.
His eyes are full of fear and red like mine, flashing in the crazed Christmas lights.
He lunges at me, pulls my arm. The twisted bag with the hammer swinging at his side.
Come on. Don’t be so gutless. We need to get out of here. Let’s go.
He thrusts my father’s wallet at me. Remember our deal – you and me, we’re brothers now. Then he turns, fumbling with the latch before disappearing outside.
I look at the blood-stained wallet, splayed open in my hand. I want to run, escape from the scene and the horror upstairs, but something keeps me rooted in the doorway. I hear voices in the street outside – people are approaching.
Then I run in the direction of my father.