He left the kitchen, moving along the downstairs hallway towards the front door. He listened for Lydia stirring though he was certain she was still asleep.
Jack opened the front door.
The car had gone from the drive.
Chloe was still in the boot.
11
The Coach
‘Stephen, run!’ Ben’s car, driven by the caller, was heading down the track straight to where the young lad was jogging. Moments ago he’d said he was going to leave, to try and escape. Ben had pleaded with him, begged him not to do it. Now, Ben stood on the path, watching as the car hurtled towards him.
Stephen turned, racing backwards, facing the full lights, holding his hands in front of him to reduce the glare, stepping left, right, stumbling, his body clumsy as the car approached. He threw himself towards the ditch, grasping clumps of grass as he pulled his body upwards.
Stephen screamed as he climbed the verge, his trainers sliding and scraping into the mud as he struggled to get a grip. He separated the barbed wire and dived head first into the field, landing heavy on his stomach. At the same time, the car rammed into the side of the bank.
Ben was unsure if Stephen had made it. He raced towards the car. The reverse lights flared, the engine revving, and the driver pulled back. There was a crunching sound, like an axe against a wooden door as the car jolted forward and the bumper cracked. Again, the driver manoeuvred the car backwards, then pulled away.
Ben reached the spot where Stephen had been standing seconds ago, praying he’d made it into the field. His head was swamped with visions of the young lad lying on the grass, his legs mangled and crushed. As Ben called Stephen’s name, he saw the car suddenly stop. He knew the caller could get out, enter the field and shoot Stephen where he lay. The gunshot earlier was testament he was armed and threatening. He could kill them both, then move to the coach, pissed off that his instructions weren’t being followed. He pictured his daughter, Milly, Laura and the elderly couple sat at the front of the coach.
Everyone relied on him to do the right thing and get them to safety.
Ben worked in a warehouse; he drove a forklift truck. When he left school, he flitted between jobs, always the drifter and never staying in employment for more than a few months. He’d fall out with a boss or dislike how he was spoken to, then leave, onto the next one. But meeting Laura changed his perception of life. He settled for working at a local factory. Ben’s grandfather had worked there, and his dad had said, ‘If it was good enough for my old man, it’s good enough for you.’ Ben saved every penny he made and with Laura managing a local florist they quickly got enough money together and moved into a small flat in North London.
As Ben progressed, he’d been offered managerial roles, which meant working behind a desk and barking orders. It wasn’t him. He wanted a relatively stress-free life, collecting his wage packet every Friday afternoon.
Once they were able to afford a house and a mortgage, Ben cut back on the overtime. He spent every spare minute with his family. Ben lived for his wife and daughter.
Now, standing on the side of the road, searching for Stephen, he realised he wasn’t cut out for this; he didn’t see himself as a hero, he wasn’t an individual with superpowers. He was plain and simple Ben, on his way to Barcelona for a week of relaxation with his family. That was all.
He felt sick with fear. Ben debated whether to go back to the coach. He stood still; his legs were weak, unable to follow the commands his brain gave out. His head was sore; an aching throb now pushing from the back of his neck and making its way along the side of his face. He worried it may be a stroke. He could drop here, and lie hidden for hours.
The door of his car opened. The guy – the caller – stepped out.
Ben wanted to run, screaming through the fields, shouting for help at the top of his voice, flagging a car down, begging the driver to assist. ‘Yes, I’m so glad you’re here. Only there’s a problem. You see that coach? Well, there are people tied up, about to meet their maker but you’re going to help us. How does that sound? Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. Call it your good deed for the day if you like.’
The caller stood on the road. He was motionless, staring at Ben. The glow from his jacket reflected in the lights of the car. His eyes were focused, his face expressionless, watching, waiting.
‘What are you going to do?’ Ben’s voice was as calm as he could muster, but he still felt weak. The low tremble that came from his mouth exposed how he felt. His breath made a small cloud of condensation. He stamped on the ground to gain the courage he needed and wake his body from the trance that had taken over.
He couldn’t run: there was nowhere to go. So many times he’d told Milly to stand up to bullies. Conversation was key. He had to try and talk, somehow reason with this man. ‘I want to know why. Why are you doing this?’
The caller had a hood pulled tightly over his head. He was tall, maybe six-four, possibly bigger, and well built, strong-looking. Ben could outrun him, he was certain of that, but it was the last option. The final choice to flee, chicken-legged along the road, lock the coach door and admit he was shitting himself to the passengers.
Suddenly, the guy started speaking. ‘What does sin mean to you?’ He paused, making sure Ben was taking everything in and understanding what he was saying. ‘To me, it’s wickedness, desire, lust, greed; all the other words you can muster. People’s actions speak volumes – the way they’re programmed, how they act. The betrayal is rife among us. Take the people on the coach, for instance – the old couple at the front – the man. You’d imagine butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He’s a powerful person, a husband, provider and a scheming wretch who lives a double life. A fraud to anyone who knows his mucky secret.’
‘I don’t know where this is going,’ Ben said.
The guy continued, ‘The girl sitting towards the middle, do you know what she did? Her and her husband? An act of pure, unadulterated immorality. This young lad, out in the woods, did a selfish deed of the lowest, depraved form. He chose to drive away for his own self-regard. See, sin is profuse. It festers in the lives of the people we meet. It’s the biggest weakness. If it goes unpunished, it will continue to grow. It will start to escalate, ooze from the souls like a potent virus and spread; it will scar the world we enjoy, the places we visit, the food we eat, it will hang in the air and cause doubt, negativity, despondence.’
‘Is that what it’s about? Wrong choices, bad decisions? People do it all the time; it’s how we’re built. We make mistakes. That’s part of the learning curve. We’re human; we make mistakes,’ Ben answered.
‘Are they mistakes? Or options?’ The guy pointed along the path and behind Ben. ‘The people on that coach, they could have done the right thing, made the correct decision. We all have the power to change our path, to walk along the correct road. We get a feeling deep within; some people call it a premonition, a sixth sense. Imagine, if you like, that you are walking along a path. The sun is beaming, the sky clear, birdsong in the air. You’re surrounded by trees and you’re alone. You come to a fork in the road. There are two signs pinned to the bark of a tree, near the base. One points left, one to the right. The sign on the left says, “Stay as you are”. The sign on the right says, “All the wealth you’ll ever need”. Me, I’d go to the left. But how many people would choose the path on the right? See, we’re never satisfied with what we have.’