Chapter One
This relentless battle against starvation has somehow led to me climbing a drainpipe with an empty rucksack hanging from my shoulders. My stinging hands scrape over rust as I heave my body until a support-bracket provides a merciful toe-hold. Catching my breath, I climb onwards and upwards because there is no going back now, no sliding to the ground. Pride says so as much as desperation.
'Bloody hell, this is higher than I thought.' I wheeze, glancing downwards like heights have ever bothered me and thrusting upwards to grasp the tarmac ledge, struggling onto the roof.
Moss tumbles into the lane where a few kids are pointing at the idiot who is kneeling atop this derelict building. Anxious they could alert my foes, I scurry past a maintenance cabin to face another building with an ajar window. Sunrays penetrate the crimson haze so I raise my forearm to shield my dazzled eyes and the sight of boxes and bags confirms the stash lies within a shadowy room, just as rumoured.
'Perfect,' I mutter, but I am wobbled by the breeze as the sprawling patchwork of rooftops swirls. Taking a short run-up, I propel from the eave and soar across the alley until granite burns my grasping palms. My toes cushion the impact against the brickwork and I shimmy until my foot locates the rotting window sill. My parkour skills are certainly up to scratch and I just hope the risk proves worthwhile.
Dangling one-handed, I prise the window open and swing through the weak spot of this thieves' den. My trainers thud on the floorboards and I approach piles of contraband to untie a bulging sack. Inside sits a holowatch which I fix onto my wrist, admiring its crystal face in the pallid light and then I cram my rucksack with stolen goods, feeling excited like a Level Two kid in a toy store.
A shuffling draws my gaze towards the ajar door as I knock something over with my out-swinging hand. 'Shit!'
A sleepy voice croaks, 'Who's that, up already?' and the fight-or-flight response sweeps through my tense frame, but I doubt even I could fight my way out the building intact. Time for plan… fuck it!
With no time to attach my escape rope, I run across the squeaking floorboards and leap from the rotting windowsill across the alley. The rucksack plummets as I grasp the original roof and my knees crash against the masonry. Hauling my torso onto the tarmac ledge, I glance at the brats who are scrambling for my contraband on the cobblestones.
As I drag my legs up that same voice yells, 'Stop, you thieving bastard!' but of course I disregard his request. I sprint across the rooftop and my momentum cannot be halted as another gap emerges between buildings so I mutter, 'To the Underworld.'
Adrenaline propels my flailing body through the air until I tumble on corrugated iron and scramble to my feet. Shit, who knew a slum dog could fly? Leaping between rooftops, I reach a lower building and drop onto mud at the foot of Auster Hill.
I glance back to check if the early riser is giving chase and a clattering impact drenches my entire body. My eyeballs stop bouncing in their sockets to confirm I have knocked a water container from a ragged woman's arms which provokes a touch of guilt, but the spillage was contaminated anyways.
'Sorry lady!' I yell, turning a corner which has a street sign hanging on one screw, reading: Garrick Lane. Wet clothing clings to my goose-pimpled skin as I march home through the slums of Medio City, somehow still in one piece.
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