Chapter 46 Damon
Damon
It takes all my strength to drag the man twenty metres to the bin storage.
Each step delivers a dagger to my ribs and I’m in tears by the time we’re inside.
I close the bin storage’s doors but I can’t rest. Inside are a handful of galvanised wheelie bins, and I choose one labelled ‘non-recyclables’ knowing that after it’s tipped into the back of the collection lorry, its next destination is a landfill site.
The stench is overpowering as I open the lid.
And going by the list of dates attached to the wall by the private refuse firm, tomorrow is collection day.
It’s almost full, which will make it easier to hide him, if I can only succeed in getting him inside.
I slowly climb in to empty it, tossing dozens and dozens of bags over the side until it’s only two bags deep.
I’m covered in other people’s uneaten food, sanitary products, nappies and general household trash, as fetid bin juice leaks and seeps through my jeans and jumper.
He is far too heavy for me to lift and drop inside the bin, so I tip it on to its side on the concrete floor, climb in again, and drag him in after me.
Adrenaline is keeping my pain to a bearable limit, but I know I’ll pay for this later.
Tucked in tight with stinking refuse and the corpse of the man I’ve just killed, I search his pockets to try to find out who he is .
. . who he was. But he has no wallet and no mobile phone.
Might’ve been good information to have, but not a top priority.
After I clamber over the nameless man out of the bin, it takes me what feels like forever to push the bin back upright, then cover him up with the bags I chucked out to make room for him.
By the time I’ve finished, I’m drenched in sweat and I reek.
But finally, I shut the lid. All I can do now is hope that when he ends up in landfill and buried under tons of rubbish, he will never be found.
I hurry back to my car and park it in its space, kicking and kicking my sprung driver’s door until at last it shuts.
There’s a tap near the bin storage so I fill an empty water bottle lying on my back seat and turn to wash his blood off the ground.
It’s at this point that it dawns on me there might be CCTV cameras in here and that everything that’s happened has been recorded and stored on a server somewhere.
But when I’ve scanned the roof and walls, it still seems possible that luck might finally be on my side. I can’t locate a single lens.
Finally, ensuring there is no one else around but Mum, I hurry back upstairs and take a long hot shower I never want to leave.