Rhapsody cont.

The chemical rush ebed.  The organ that filled the inside of her skull stopped momentarily shouting at her about the outside. The jolting ceased abruptly and the cavity in which she huddled rang like a gong. Pimples had run into something. The monotone peaked suddenly with the ubiquitous bogan expletive, “Fuckingcunt!” The sounds of Pimples receded.
Suzie Cream-Cheese waited. She waited some more. All seemed quiet. Either when she stuck out her head she would be staring into the barrel of a tazar and the pinpoint pupils of some Security beef or she wouldn’t.
She eased out of her cramped crouch and with the top of her head slowly raised the lid of the skip till her eyes looked out over the rim. She gently lowered the lid and sat. She took off her beret and rubbed the top of her head. The lid heavier than she had expected. She replaced the hat, tucked in the hair, wishing without much conviction for a mirror.
The coast had been clear. The loading dock was brightly lit. Empty of people. Only two security cameras, neither looking at the skip. One was pointed at the roller door, through which she had recently trundled, the other the loading platform, backed by a bank of goods lifts. The good and the bad news. The cameras while not looking at where she was, were looking at where she needed to go if she was to have any hope at all.
Suzie wondered. She wondered a couple of things. Thing one was what where the chances of Pimples or some other Mall stiff being out of site but within earshot. Thing two was speculation on the likelihood of the area having audio as well as video monitoring.