Waifs and Strays [Larry Stylinson]

Chapter Six

This is it, April, 23rd; 10:55am. We are driving along the harbor which looks like part of a ghost town, or coming straight out of a horror movie. Almost all of the buildings are empty or dilapidated, most are covered in graffiti daub, with smashed in windows and broken gates (without a doubt by one of the gangs, many of them by us). Nearly none of the factories or storage buildings are still in use. Our economy system is completely rundown.

The few buildings that are still in use, like some fisheries or the shipyard are run by creepy looking, filthy man with hollow cheeks and dead eyes, somewhat like the three men from that horrible night when I was fifteen. I try to not even look at the few people we drive past and focus back on the reason why we are here in the first place.

This morning Liam came home with news. Desmond Styles, Harry's father, had finally called that night and informed him about somebody kidnapping his son, and demanding ransom money, and threatening to kill Harry if they get the police involved (which we didn't, we only said they would never see him again). And Liam did his job by telling him to calm down and that there is no need to call again or come to the police station in person, just to ensure Harry's savety of course, because of the threat. He told him that the police would handle things and he should just go with the instructions of the kidnappers.

So now, everything should go as planed. As soon as we have the money, we will bring Harry back to the park where we abducted him and everything can go back to normal; only difference is, we will have a lot more money to keep all these rumbling bellies satisfied.

Zayn pulls the van onto some old warehouse premises, parking the car concealed behind the building.

"Carlos, you are going to keep an eye on the van, remember?" I say as we all get out of the van. We never leave cars unattendedly parked within the city boundaries. They get broken into and stolen by people like us. That's how we got our hands on our three own vehicles in the first place.

"Yes, Louis," he says with a roll of his eyes, somewhat annoyed, "we've gone through the plan like a thousand times now. I even dream about it sometimes."

I don't have the energy for his attitude right now. "Well then, shut your puss and get behind the wheel!" I say and stare at him until he turns around and follows my orders.

Zayn, Liam, Niall and I turn away and creep along the walls of the warehouse to the very far end of its premises. We are not going to take the street to get to the butchery. We parked the car about a quarter mile away from the butchery to prevent it from attracting any attention, and now we take the river side of the buildings.

The butchery is merely a huge stone ashlar with shattered windows, and weeds and vines growing out of every crack and corner. The backyard is not particularly big and the only thing that has been left behind is a big orange container out of steel, standing next to the back wall of the building.

As planed, Liam and Niall make their way to the other side of the backyard where they hide in some thick bushes to be able to overlook the exteriors, while Zayn and I climb through one of the windows, closest to the container. We seem to be in one of the slaughterhouses with tiled floors and walls, and a slaughtering block in the middle of the room.

"Did I ever tell you that I hate waiting?" says Zayn in a hushed voice as we position ourselves next to the window, making sure to stay concealed.

"Same here, mate," I say and check to see that Liam and Niall are just as concealed from a stranger's eye as we are. "But better be save than sorry, right?"

Zayn nods and leans against the wall next to the window. After a while I can feel his eyes on me and stare back at him in confusion. The corner of Zayn's mouth pulls up into a smug smile while he pushes a hand into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.