The Fall of Man

Part II chapter 7

Chapter 7

The following day, as he hobbles back to his bedsit from another treatment session, Noah passes a familiar face at the physiotherapy reception. A girl – in her twenties he guesses – is in deep conversation with a male nurse stood somewhat defensively behind the tall counter. Noah recognises the girl from the gym; her shock of close-cropped crimson hair and smudged red lipstick stand out like bloody rags against alabaster skin and the blue-white hospital-issue clothing that hangs from her small, bird-like frame. As on previous occasions, his keen eyes spot a delicate pendant dangling about her neck. Its cobweb cord is intertwined with two gossamer-thin straps of underwear that peek provocatively from the crisp, wide collar of her smock, almost lost against the milky complexion of her neck and shoulders.

As he passes the couple, something makes her break off her conversation and look in his direction. Her pointed features scowl back at his overt scrutiny and a lump rises in his chest. At his feet, Rover barks a warning. When she turns back to face the nurse, her posture changes against the counter – her weight sunk lower, one hip thrown out.

Entranced, Noah lingers alongside an information terminal that hangs suspended by a short bracket from one of the tall custard-coloured columns peppered throughout the lobby. From the shelter of the yellow post, he discretely watches their conversation unfold; the words are lost below the ebb and flow of background music. The girl’s hands move from the counter rim to her hips, then to the pendant at her neck, and finally to her temples. Their faces become more animated, their exchanges shorter. Suddenly she swirls, and storms from the reception – straight towards Noah’s hiding position. Rover bleeps twice, snapping him out of his reverie. She strides purposefully across the lobby, her plasticized clogs clacking dully on the polished stone-effect vinyl of the floor, and brushes past him before stepping into a waiting lift. He watches the numerals above the lift door as they chart the progress of her carriage up the building. They finally come to a standstill at floor sixty four – four floors higher than the penthouse gym.

After a moment of indecision, Noah hobbles across the foyer and enters the adjacent lift, Rover clicking at his heels. In a flurry of fumbling he requests the same floor, willing the sixty three lobbies above him to be devoid of waiting passengers. The door closes and the lift departs. After what seems like an eternity, the carriage comes to a standstill and the door slides opens to reveal another identical lobby – just in time for him to see an unmarked door on the other side of the small space ease itself shut. Through this doorway, he is confronted by a staircase. Above him, he hears footfalls.

Noah looks down at Rover, before peering up through the open risers towards the landing above. A second door swings shut with a loud clatter, out of sight, and the staircase falls quiet.

“One floor, Rover. You can manage one floor.”

Rover buzzes, unimpressed by the idea. Noah squats on the second step, and takes hold of the blinking apparatus by its spherical base. The thing is surprisingly light, and he rolls it up the two steps between them relatively easily. He shuffles himself up a further two steps and repeats the process.

Two flights of twelve steps later, Noah stands wheezing at the very top of the escape staircase. He is confronted by a blank steel panel with a sturdy horizontal panic bar. The door is heavy and doesn’t move easily. He leans into the riveted metal surface and slowly it begins to roll open on its hinges. Suddenly a gust of air takes hold and slams the door open with a bang. Tossed off-guard by the door and blinded by a sudden influx of brilliant white sunlight, Noah totters and stumbles to retain his balance. Through squinted eyelids, he reaches out for a handhold, but there is none. He is outside.

Even at this height, the howling wind cannot take away the oppressive heat. It emanates in palpable waves from the concrete deck beneath his feet. When his eyes adjust to the piercing brightness, he is stood on the barren roof of his building. In front of him and to his left and right, a desolate graveyard of unmarked grey slabs extends out to a simple parapet; a guard-rail formed with thin tubes of steel. Beyond, on the horizon, giant clouds have gathered beneath a saccharine haze, and the sky surrounding the burning orb is blackened and bruised. It is a sky he has seen before. Stood at the centre of the roof and buffeted by the wind, forty feet from the edge in every direction, Noah still cannot suppress an overwhelming wave of vertigo that rises tsunami-like at the thought of the sheer drop lying beyond the parapet. He presses his back against the enclosure of the staircase behind him and breathes, eyes closed. Then, steadying himself on the roughly rendered wall, he looks around at his surroundings.