The caller continued. ‘Greed is a horrible trait. The next-door neighbour gets an extension, builds on top of what they have. Maybe they live alone, a semi-detached house with a hundred-foot garden, but it’s not enough. They need more rooms, more space. You become envious, enraged with jealousy, needing to know how it will look, the price it’s costing. You start to wonder if you can afford the same extension yourself. You ask your boss for more hours, cut back on going out, save a little. But now the neighbour has a better car, a more exquisite holiday, further afield.
‘Think about work colleagues, the “yes sirs” of this world, striving for a better position in their job, swapping a uniform for a suit, a higher pay cheque, company car, longer hours, their own office, a large desk, a swivel chair, pictures of their family hanging on the wall behind them. Their former colleagues now have to make an appointment, knock on the door. They need to ask him to make time for them. The same people he trampled on while making his way to the top of the tree.’
‘Isn’t that just people, trying to make a better life for themselves?’ Ben asked.
‘The world has become a haven for rogues, parasites. Look at what I’m doing as a punishment if you will. A child, he steals from the local grocery store. He’s chased home by the owner. The young boy races down the street, an apple under each arm. He makes it, flicks a look behind, the street is deserted. His mother greets him at the door; he pretends he picked them from the local field, maybe he tells her he found them on the ground. She rubs his head, goes back to the kitchen, flicking through a recipe book, making a large pie. Her nan’s ingredients which were passed down are not good enough anymore; she wants to make a better-tasting one, more flavour, more succulent. The boy goes back to the grocery store again, this time he grabs more apples, over and over he steals from the owner. One day, he reaches for a melon, as big as his head and he rips it from the shelf, his eyes wild, filled with excitement, but the shopkeeper is waiting for him outside. As the boy runs, the owner sticks out his foot, and the boy drops to the floor. The owner is holding a rolling pin, and he beats the boy’s legs until they’re bloody and bruised. The shopkeeper lets him go and, needless to say, the boy never returns to the store.’
The guy got back into the car. He turned to Ben as he closed the door.
‘That boy was me. You see, sinners require harsh lessons to learn from their mistakes.’
He hit the accelerator and Ben saw the car disappear into the distance.
12
The Coach
Ben climbed into the field. The ground was wet, and his shoes sunk into the grass.
He called out. ‘Stephen, are you there?’ The guy had driven Ben’s car away a few minutes ago. Ben wondered whether he’d drive full circle and park near the coach or if he’d gone somewhere else. He kicked the long grass with his feet, battling through, and shone the torch at the ground.
Ben wanted so badly to call for help, let someone know what was happening out here. But the caller was monitoring the only phone they had. Their own phones were in the car. Ben could have snuck one of them in his pocket but he couldn’t risk the caller seeing him do it. He hadn’t seen another vehicle for so long. There was nothing he could do. The guy was out here, hidden, watching them all. He had taken three people from the coach: Stephen’s friend Gareth, Edward and Mary’s son, and Lydia’s husband. How long before he took the others?
Ben looked out over the terrain, wondering if they were close by, tied up somewhere. Maybe they were being tortured. The caller could easily return and come back for the others, do the same to them. A sharp chill made its way along his back and his body spasmed. Ben briefly considered running, grabbing Laura and Milly and racing towards civilisation. He couldn’t and wouldn’t. These people relied on him. Ben was their only hope. Their only way out.
He thought how it would look to the passengers and his family, what they’d think if Ben ran and left everyone to die.
Suddenly he heard a groan, close to where he was walking. Ben lowered the torch, shining the small light and sweeping it across the grass. He saw the young lad, Stephen, lying on his stomach around five metres from where he stood.
‘Hey. Thank God you’re still alive,’ Ben said, keeping his voice as low as possible.
Stephen lay still.
Ben moved closer. ‘Stephen, are you okay?’
The young lad lifted his head and rolled over onto his back. ‘Shit. He almost killed me.’ Stephen had crawled along the grass, keeping low, too frightened to stand up.
‘I saw him drive the car at you. Then you were out of sight.’
‘He charged towards me. I think the bonnet smacked against the verge. I just escaped. I dread to think what could have happened.’
Ben offered his arm. ‘Can you walk?’
‘Yeah. I’m okay.’ Stephen reached up and let Ben pull him to his feet.
‘I say we make our way back to the coach; I’m sure we’ll hear from him shortly. Come on, let’s go and make sure the others are still alive,’ Ben said. He wiped the mud from Stephen’s clothes.
‘Thanks. I’m so glad you’re here.’
Ben smiled; he didn’t want thanking. They walked together, side by side.
‘I’m sorry you’re in this mess. I can’t thank you and your family enough.’
‘I’m sure anyone else would have done the same thing,’ Ben answered.
Stephen paused a second. ‘Not me. I wouldn’t have helped.’
Ben was unsure of how to answer. He appreciated the lad’s honesty, if nothing else. ‘You’re scared now. Confused. But you would have helped. I know you would.’
‘I left that woman to die in the woods. I drove away. What does that make me? What does it say about my character?’
There was silence as the guys walked towards the coach. Ben kept an eye on the road, hoping to see another vehicle.
Stephen was contemplating their situation. ‘I’m sorry I ran. I’m sorry I’m not braver. Christ, I could apologise all day,’ Stephen acknowledged. ‘I see her, you know?’
‘See who?’
‘The woman I knocked over? Sometimes she’s in my flat, standing in the garden or when I’m driving, she’s on the road ahead. I hear her in my room; I often see her shadow pass my front door.’
Ben kept his eyes on the ground, watching where they were stepping. ‘Tell me what happened. That’s if you feel the need to talk,’ Ben said. ‘I understand you hit someone from what the caller said earlier. Did you kill her?’
Stephen rubbed his face with the back of his hand, panting, struggling to keep up with Ben. ‘We were out drinking – Gareth and me. It was late, I’d had a little too much. He said not to drive, to get a taxi, it wasn’t safe, but I didn’t listen. I thought I knew it all. That we’d be okay. That I could drive safely. When I hit her, Gareth told me to get out, to help her. I had my life ahead of me. I didn’t want to face up to what I’d done. So I drove away. If it happened again, I’d do the same thing. I’m ashamed of myself, but honestly, I’d drive away again.’
‘At least you’re being truthful,’ Ben said.