“Oi!What are you doing in here?”The guard stomped towards Zig, flat-footed and fumbling at his hip for something.
Zig couldn’t move.Christ, it’s all going wrong.
Out of nowhere, Trent darted in, fist swinging.
The old guy went down heavy, his head bouncing off the desk on the way to the floor.
Trent barely broke stride, making for Zig and grabbing him by the shoulders.He gave Zig a good shake.“You stupid fucking idiot.Do you want to get caught?”
Zig tore his eyes from the still body on the floor.“Is he dead?”
“Who gives a fuck?Comeon,you moron.”Trent strode off without looking back.Like Zig was his dog and would walk to heel when ordered.
The old guy wasn’t moving, and there was blood on the desk where he’d caught his head.Zig’s heart was trying to beat out of his chest.Christ, that could be someone’s grandad.
Without consciously deciding to, Zig knelt down by the body.Pulse, pulse, how the fuck do you take a pulse?He reached out a hand, half-afraid to touch the old guy.When the man shifted and groaned, Zig nearly shat himself.The guard didn’t open his eyes, though, and his head was still bleeding, thick and red.He needed help.Now.
This wasn’t what Zig had signed up for.Nicking stuff, yeah—from posh wankers who had way too much already, and would claim it all on the insurance anyhow—but hurting people?
Zig had always wondered if he had, like, a moral compass.Something to show him where the lines were.Turned out, seeing that old man lying on the floor...Zig remembered Ray, his gran’s old boyfriend.He’d cried at her funeral, and Zig hadn’t known how to handle it.Because grown-ups didn’t cry, right?Especially blokes.Dad never cried, and he hated Zig crying.Shed a tear and get a smack round the ear.That was how it worked.
But Ray had wept like it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, and he’d given Zig a hug so tight it’d hurt.That had been the last time Zig had seen him, cos he’d moved to Sussex to be with his family.He was probably dead now, but Zig could still remember his face.And it wasn’t much different from this bloke, lying on the floor in front of him, bleeding from a head wound one of Zig’s so-called mates had given him.
That was it.That was the line.
There was a device on the old guy’s belt, the side he’d been reaching for.It was smaller than a phone, black plastic with just two buttons.One had a telephone symbol; the other SOS.
Zig hesitated.If he pushed that button, the guy would get help...and Zig, his dad, and Trent would get caught.
If he didn’t, the old man might die.
Zig pushed the button.Then he scrambled to his feet and walked slowly after Trent.
Zig came back to the present to find Si was gripping his hand, tight.It felt like an anchor.
“Was he okay?”Si asked.“The old man?”
Zig nodded.“Yeah.Maybe he’d have been all right anyway, but I couldn’t— I couldn’t risk it.”
Si’s whole body had relaxed.“No.No, course you couldn’t.”
Jesus, how could Si justsaythat?Like he knew Zig was always gonna do the right thing?
That was more than Zig had known.Way more.
Si smiled crookedly.“Guess I know why you and your dad had that bust-up.”
“Well, yeah, but I never said anything.I let ’em assume the guard had set off the alarm before Trent decked him.”
“You didn’t try to make a run for it?Get away before the police turned up?”
Zig stared out of the window and into the darkness.“Think I wanted to be caught.Wanted Trent to be caught, anyhow.”
“Always knew he was a bastard,” Si said.“You did a good thing, there.”
“Got me own dad banged up.”
“And yourself.”Si’s tone strongly suggested he didn’t give a monkey’s about Zig’s dad.
