waking up the dead

4am
immediately i feel it
real paranoia
i get up and have a shower
the quality of all things seems lacking
the taste of the water is more neutral
the colour in the tiles more faded
i don’t rush
after i dress, choose some clothes
put them in a backpack
together with the few personal things closely tied to me
then i clean

it takes an hour
i lock the door when i leave
nothing has changed in these streets
nothing but the feeling
i walk through dozens of random alleys
eventually coming past a junked office-block
there are more of these in the city than can be counted
without stopping i take the key to my appartment
wipe it with my shirt
and using my sleves to avoid touching it again
throw it over the crashed-out fencing
out through more alley ways
people i’ve seen around
or never before but it all looks the same
except that it’s all wrong
i ask myself if i’m going crazy

5:24am
the sun is coming up
with the light comes the usual increase in murmer
more vehicles
more phone calls
i walk through the bus depot where all the lines start
walk past the doors of a hundred busses
waiting for their despatch time
half-filled with early workers
poor people
maybe not so much in finances
but in happiness
the famine of safety and contentment
my face feels like drying clay
like i’ve only had an hour of sleep
maybe it’s because i’ve only had an hour of sleep
i choose a bus that goes out of the city and into another one
it doesn’t matter which
as long as it keeps moving
again without stopping i reach for my pocket
without taking it out just yet i wipe it with my sleeve
i hope it’s enough
then as i pass the open rear door of the bus
i draw out my hand and toss the phone in
it’s still on
but turning it off is more dangerous

sometime after six i feel wrecked
haven’t stopped moving since i left the appartment
not jogging
not even walking quickly
but the pace has been steady
and the fear is messing with my body
i walk straight into a convenience store
down the back past the open chillers
take a bottle at random
wipe some coins and drop them on the counter with my sleeve without stopping and walk out
people do that all the time
and the woman behind the counter doesn’t look up from her paper
i head towards the projects
they don’t look much different from where i live
where i’ve been
but they’re huge and concentrated in one place
a lot of ruined high-rise residence towers
and there are a lot of people there
more than anywhere else
a good place to hide if even only for a moment

there are always busted-up playgrounds between the towers
wherever they can fit them
it’s like a rolling pattern
towers playgrounds towers playgrounds
eventually they stopped putting in streets
no-one would ever afford a car anyway
my calves are killing me
but i won’t stop until i find the right one
somewhere where no-one knows me
but where no-one will try and cut me up either
for cash or smokes
for my bottle of random drink
eventually i get there
slow and sit down on the wooden decking of the playground
every inch of wood is scarred with tags
names, dates, messages
tiny pieces of people’s pride, fear and bravado
i open the drink which is flavoured water
glad because i don’t think i could deal with too much sugar right now
this has enough in it anyway

i get up and put the bottle in my backpack
start walking again
the kids are knocking around as they do
being belligerent to each-other
being loud
sitting under the projects, leaning against them and not saying anything
i get to a street and realise i’m right in the middle of them
from here i can pretty much go anywhere
anywhere but where i’ve been before
i start heading towards another part of the city
through this strange part of town where the projects and the metropolis fade into each-other
it’s less dangerous for the average person here
everything happens behind closed doors
beat-up old closed doors that hide how strong they are
hide the ten guys waiting in the next room for anything that might disturb whatever’s happening deep inside the buildings
buildings that are part projects, part city, and part pure fear

it’s here that i see the grey mercedes
i see it in the reflection of a dirty shop-window
and i hear the distinctive sound of its engine and exhaust
even though it’s just turned the corner back down by the block
there are plenty of these around
and only half of them are owned by the scarier types
but this one just looks right
or really really wrong
i don’t change my stride
keep walking
trying to act like every one of my senses isn’t paying attention to this car
only half of me is afraid
the other half is getting angry
angry that this car is here
angry at the way today feels
angry at the fact that the mercedes slows as it approaches me
angry at my fear

it rolls up and stops just up from where i am
the rear window rolls down with a quiet electric whipser
– excuse me
comes a womans voice, middle aged
i don’t stop because generally people don’t
– excuse me young man
but if she asks twice, she’s more than likely to have someone in that vehicle with a firearm
i turn around slowly
like i’ve only just heard her
– can you help me
every inch of glass on the mercedes is tinted black
through the open window i see pale beige leather
real leather
and a woman in a nondescript black blouse
the kind of thing that costs the earth
i walk up to the window and stop a meter away
– i’m trying to get here
she extends her arm out with a PDA in her hand
– can you tell me where it is
and i really don’t want to look at it
suddenly i’m just another person walking the street
i stop thinking about all the reasons why this woman would want to talk to me
like i honestly believe she’s after directions
she’s holding the PDA with the screen facing up and the right way for her, meaning for me to take it
i figure any other person on the street wouldn’t
so i lean forward like i’m not going to take a step closer
anyone else would
and they often do
– i can’t see it
so she rotates it and faces it to me

it’s no address
it’s a single file name
and an extremely high sum of money
the kind of money that the file is worth

the kind of money i haven’t seen since i got out of the business

– i don’t know what this is
and i tilt my head and squint through the window
look at her like she’s nuts
like i’m a normal person in the city
in the projects
thinking this woman’s out of her mind
– i’m sorry, my mistake
she says
the window sighs up and closes with a velvet thump
i straighten as it pulls away
and track it with my head, eventually turning my body
as if that’s the strangest thing to happen to me all year

she wouldn’t know what i look like
or any of the others
what the people who could get that file would look like
so maybe she asked some bum in the back-end of thebusiness
who knew someone who might be able to help her
but the mercedes and the blouse make me think she knows very well what she’s doing
and i begin to think i’m probably not the only one

something is going to happen
something so big that even the dead will want to know about it

and sure enough, it’s gotten my attention