Christ, Stephen, get control of yourself. This is ridiculous.
He stepped back into the flat, closing the door. He attached the security chain. As he backed away, the shadow appeared, moving swiftly across the glass from outside. It resembled a haze of smoke, a cloud pushing its way through the cracks. It became larger, forming the shape of a person: he could see the outline of a head. It was moving, darting left and right, like the person was continually passing his door. Carefully, Stephen removed the chain, his hands trembling, and swung the door open. The hall was empty. The stairs were vacant.
Again he backed into the flat, pushing the front door hard, flicking the chain, stepping backwards, watching the glass.
All of a sudden, the hallway light went off, a click and then bang. Lights out. The communal light never goes out.
Stephen panicked. A wash of stress rose through his body. He turned, moved quickly down the hall to his bedroom. He slammed the door shut and then slid the small bedside cabinet across the room. The lamp fell, smashing the bulb and spreading shards of glass across the wooden flooring. He darted to the window, pulled the curtains back and looked into the garden.
Stephen’s heart felt like it had exploded. There she was. The white nightdress. The long, greasy black hair. The woman in the woods was reaching her left arm towards the bedroom window, fingers spread, moving forward on her knees, crawling towards where Stephen was standing.
‘Arhhhh. You can’t be here. You can’t.’ He ripped the curtains together, ferociously wiping his eyes with his clenched fists, tearing the curtains open again. Her face was now at the window, her hands slamming against the glass. Stephen stumbled backwards, falling to the floor. He turned around, lifting onto his knees, crawling towards the bedroom door, not heeding the shards from the broken light bulb. He forced the cabinet to his left, then he stood and ran to the kitchen door. He had to find out what she wanted. Stephen had to reason with her. Tell her he was sorry.
Outside, the garden was deserted. He walked across to his bedroom window, fear now crippling his body. He was struggling to take a breath; his bones ached with terror and his head pounded. The woman was gone.
Stephen grabbed his jeans, jumper, got dressed and then moved out to his car. He had to return to the woods. The alcohol had worn off, and was now replaced by adrenalin. He looked in the rear-view mirror, then pulled out onto the road.
I have to do this. I have to help. Gareth was right; I shouldn’t have driven away, left her there. It’s obvious I can’t deal with it, live my life knowing I’ve knocked her down, left her in the woods.
Stephen drove, oblivious to his surroundings, in a trance state, numb and vacant. Side roads, trees, fields, sprawled left and right. He stared ahead, his gaze glued to the window, watching the road in front.
This is it – the place. Stephen gently tapped the brakes, pulling the car over to his left. He opened the driver’s door, stepping out into the cold night air. His mind returned to earlier, him and Gareth, driving along the other side of the road, Stephen was searching for music on the radio, remembering the buzz from the evening they’d had, how life can topple and plunge into darkness so easily.
He searched the ground, walking along the deserted road, looking for blood, clothes, anything. He didn’t know what to expect, but he knew there’d be a body.
For forty minutes, Stephen searched the area, walking, searching then running a mile or so either side.
He found nothing.
The woman in the woods had vanished.
6
The Coach
‘Can you believe that arsehole? He’s gone. He did a bloody runner.’ Ben had joined Laura and Milly on the coach.
‘Who? Andrew?’ Laura was struggling to believe how someone could leave these people. ‘You mean he’s stolen the car? I saw someone getting inside, reversing, I thought you were moving it.’
‘Yes, the coach driver has fled and left us stranded here. It would seem he’s a dab hand at driving cars too,’ Ben stated. ‘Shit. This evening just gets worse. How are they coping?’ Ben eyed the passengers, directing his question to Laura and Milly.
‘They’ve been sat in the same position for hours. Their bodies are numb; the blood circulation is minimal. Imagine how uncomfortable they must be feeling.’ She moved towards the elderly couple at the front, asking if they’d like more water. She thought of the food which she’d packed in the footwell of their car, but Andrew the driver would no doubt pull over somewhere and tuck into that.
Ben turned to Milly. ‘I’m so sorry, love. This isn’t how I envisioned the start of our holiday.’
Milly’s eyes watered and her top lip quivered. Ben pulled her close, holding her tight.
‘I’m so scared. But we’re doing the right thing, Dad,’ she whispered.
Ben kissed her head. ‘I’m not going to let anything happen–’
A gunshot sounded, causing total panic. Ben and Milly ducked and Laura dropped to her knees. People were gripping the seats, stamping their feet, shouting.
Ben crawled to the door, then gripped the rail, looking out into the wilderness. He couldn’t see anyone. After a few seconds, he turned, crouching on one knee. ‘Please, everyone keep quiet. Calm down.’ His voice was wasted on the passengers. They were shouting, asking to be cut loose. The elderly lady at the front muttered under her breath; her husband was trying to soothe her, telling her it would all be okay.
Lydia was pulling her arms upwards, yanking the rope that held her to the seat. She screamed out, then burst into tears.
The phone rang from the dashboard, the old ringtone echoing through the coach, a haunting offensive cry demanding attention.
Milly shouted, ‘Quiet. Everyone shush!’ She kept hidden and looked towards her father, watching his next move.
Ben stood, reached forward and grabbed the phone.
The atmosphere dropped instantly; trepidation rose thick in the air like a poisonous cloud. Ben hesitated, debating whether to summon the loudspeaker or hold the phone to his ear. He chose the first option. People needed to know what this guy had planned. They needed to understand the severity of the situation and why they had to obey the caller’s instructions.
‘Hello.’ Ben waited eagerly, hoping it was someone else.
‘That’s what happens when you disobey a simple command.’
Ben looked behind, he felt like a teacher taking a class, eyes fixed on him, waiting to hear the next instruction. ‘You’re never going to get away with this. Do you hear me? You’re sick. You need help. There are people on this coach, elderly people, women.’
‘You need to follow the rules.’
Ben moved to the door, feeling the cold air press against his face. The rain had started again, drenching his hair, soaking his clothes.
He stepped down onto the road. Behind him voices were pleading for him to come back. ‘What is it you want?’
‘The gunshot you heard a minute ago, there will be another eight before the night’s out.’
Ben did a quick calculation in his head, realising what the guy was insinuating. ‘What’s happened to Andrew? What have you done? At least let the old couple go. They’re weak, vulnerable. They may not last the night.’
A moment passed, then the voice came back on the line. ‘Oh, you’re so right.’