the low-pitched rumble from beneath his feet. Up to that moment, he had still been seething with fury at what his father had done. He had caught a bus to the CBD and then walked 4 kilometres to the Tower. The Apple Store on 199 was one of his favourite haunts after school. The staff there knew him and if the place wasnât too busy, they let him play around on the computers.
Abu had crossed the threshold of the store and had just spotted his favourite assistant, Tariq Naqvi, an unusually tall and waif-thin 18-year-old who had taken a real shine to Abu. They both froze where they stood as the vibrations rippled through the store and a great roar of sound ricocheted around the walls lined with the white rectangles of Apple Macs.
The next thing Abu knew, he was flying through the air propelled by an invisible force. He landed heavily, sideways, on the carpeted floor. His head made contact with the leg of a counter. A horrible stinging sensation shot up his nose, the pain slamming through his head. From his position on the floor, he saw his friend Tariq fly towards him.
The youth landed badly, his back smashing against the edge of a table a few metres away. Abu heard the young guyâs spine snap, a crisp, high-pitched crack cutting through the low rumble of sound coming from below. Tariq vomited blood as he fell forwards, his face smashing into the floor. His dead eyes stared straight at Abu.
The boy screamed but the sound was engulfed within the rising clamour from somewhere below. He felt a terrible panic well up into his throat and his stomach began to heave. He pushed his head down into the carpet and crawled further under the counter. He could hear all manner of things flying past and smashing around the store windows a few metres away.
A piercing scream cut through the air close by. Then came a horrific squelching sound. Turning his head away from where Tariq lay, Abu came face-to-face with a pink and red smudge of humanity, a face disfigured by some heavy flying object. A gasp of breath came from the distorted hole of a mouth and the person went limp.
The shaking and the roaring seemed to go on and on. Something heavy landed on the counter above Abu. It hit the surface with a crunch and glass cascaded over the edge and onto the floor. The boy tried to make himself as small as possible, curling up into a foetal ball.
Then as suddenly as they had started, the vibrations and the roaring stopped. And for a moment at least, the place seemed absurdly quiet. Abu waited for several minutes before he edged his way out from under the counter. Emerging from beneath its lip, he pulled himself to his feet.
The scene that met his eyes reminded him of the horror movie he had seen at a friendâs house when his parents were out. The huge glass window at the front of the shop had shattered into hundreds of thousands of cuboid pellets and formed a semicircle halfway across the store. Every shelf had collapsed, chairs and desks were upended and, across the floor, lay at least a dozen mangled computers, their white plastic cases riven, screens obliterated. And the bodies . . .
Abu could see one man was clearly dead. He had been ripped in two at the waist. Tariq lay still under the counter. Two more mangled forms were sprawled out in a huge patch of blood soaking into the carpet. A fine white powder hung in the air. Abu glanced up and saw that half the roof had been pulverised, the ceiling tiles shredded.
He could not move a muscle. He felt so completely paralysed with fear and shock, he imagined he would never be able to do anything ever again. His heart pounded and he felt a cold sweat break out that made his forehead numb. Then a terrible sound came up from his throat â a cry, a moan, a sigh all rolled into one. It was a sound he had never heard before and for a second he wondered at the fact that such a noise had come from him. Then he started to shake. He fell to his knees, his head lolling forwards to the
Abu had crossed the threshold of the store and had just spotted his favourite assistant, Tariq Naqvi, an unusually tall and waif-thin 18-year-old who had taken a real shine to Abu. They both froze where they stood as the vibrations rippled through the store and a great roar of sound ricocheted around the walls lined with the white rectangles of Apple Macs.
The next thing Abu knew, he was flying through the air propelled by an invisible force. He landed heavily, sideways, on the carpeted floor. His head made contact with the leg of a counter. A horrible stinging sensation shot up his nose, the pain slamming through his head. From his position on the floor, he saw his friend Tariq fly towards him.
The youth landed badly, his back smashing against the edge of a table a few metres away. Abu heard the young guyâs spine snap, a crisp, high-pitched crack cutting through the low rumble of sound coming from below. Tariq vomited blood as he fell forwards, his face smashing into the floor. His dead eyes stared straight at Abu.
The boy screamed but the sound was engulfed within the rising clamour from somewhere below. He felt a terrible panic well up into his throat and his stomach began to heave. He pushed his head down into the carpet and crawled further under the counter. He could hear all manner of things flying past and smashing around the store windows a few metres away.
A piercing scream cut through the air close by. Then came a horrific squelching sound. Turning his head away from where Tariq lay, Abu came face-to-face with a pink and red smudge of humanity, a face disfigured by some heavy flying object. A gasp of breath came from the distorted hole of a mouth and the person went limp.
The shaking and the roaring seemed to go on and on. Something heavy landed on the counter above Abu. It hit the surface with a crunch and glass cascaded over the edge and onto the floor. The boy tried to make himself as small as possible, curling up into a foetal ball.
Then as suddenly as they had started, the vibrations and the roaring stopped. And for a moment at least, the place seemed absurdly quiet. Abu waited for several minutes before he edged his way out from under the counter. Emerging from beneath its lip, he pulled himself to his feet.
The scene that met his eyes reminded him of the horror movie he had seen at a friendâs house when his parents were out. The huge glass window at the front of the shop had shattered into hundreds of thousands of cuboid pellets and formed a semicircle halfway across the store. Every shelf had collapsed, chairs and desks were upended and, across the floor, lay at least a dozen mangled computers, their white plastic cases riven, screens obliterated. And the bodies . . .
Abu could see one man was clearly dead. He had been ripped in two at the waist. Tariq lay still under the counter. Two more mangled forms were sprawled out in a huge patch of blood soaking into the carpet. A fine white powder hung in the air. Abu glanced up and saw that half the roof had been pulverised, the ceiling tiles shredded.
He could not move a muscle. He felt so completely paralysed with fear and shock, he imagined he would never be able to do anything ever again. His heart pounded and he felt a cold sweat break out that made his forehead numb. Then a terrible sound came up from his throat â a cry, a moan, a sigh all rolled into one. It was a sound he had never heard before and for a second he wondered at the fact that such a noise had come from him. Then he started to shake. He fell to his knees, his head lolling forwards to the
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