‘Yes. Gareth. He’s in the basement. I was with him until the maniac placed Lydia and myself down here. With this leg wound I don’t think I’ll be running away soon.’
Ben hesitated, struggling to ask the next question. ‘How’s Gareth doing?’
‘Well, he’s alive. For how long I’m not sure.’
Lydia started to cry. ‘Why’s he doing this? The cottage. It’s terrifying. I thought I was going to die. He strapped me to a chair in the kitchen and left me there. Why the hell is he doing this to us?’
Jack held Lydia, telling her how brave she was.
‘I need you both to go now. Don’t let me down. Go back to the coach, help the others. I’m going to try and get everyone out of here when the time is right.’
Jack extended his hand, shaking Ben’s, and the couple moved away across the field. Jack was struggling to move as he hobbled across the grass.
Ben turned, pulled down both cameras and crushed them under his shoes, then he moved towards the cottage, looking for Abigail.
What the hell is she doing? As Ben moved closer, he could see the person at the window more clearly. The long hair, the white nightdress. It’s the wrong house, Ben realised. He thought about the cameras, filming him. The caller had seen everything and any second now he would appear and kill them both. He tried to work out how long he’d been at the graves. Minutes. Had the old lady been watching Abigail all this time from the window?
‘Abigail, it’s the wrong house,’ Ben shouted.
The window opened. The old lady peered out. Ben could hear her from where he stood, though her voice was frail, weak. ‘Can I help you, dear?’
The plan was scuppered. Any minute now, the caller would be there.
‘I’m sorry to have bothered you at this time of night,’ Abigail said.
The old lady leaned over the window frame from the first floor. ‘It’s not a problem. How can I help?’
‘It’s okay. We’re looking for someone. I really do apologise if I woke you.’
‘It’s okay, dear. Don’t think anything of it. It’s quite all right. Who is it you’re looking for?’
Abigail was trying to move away subtly. ‘Oh, a friend of mine. I was sure they lived here. As I’ve said, I’m so sorry if I startled you. Please accept my apologies.’
The old lady made no attempt to end the conversation. She pushed her body further, now halfway over the ledge. ‘Wait there. I’ll come down. I can help you look, young lady.’
Ben was waving to Abigail, calling as low as possible. ‘Abigail, move away. We don’t have the time.’
‘It’s quite all right. You don’t need to come down, honestly. I’ll find the place. Thank you anyway. You’re very kind,’ Abigail stated.
‘The other cottages are empty dear. They’re holiday homes. Wait there. I’ll be down in a second.’
As the lady pulled herself back inside, Ben watched in horror as her wig dropped to the ground below. He knew who it was. The person lifted a sawn-off shotgun.
‘Abigail, run. Get the fuck away from there.’
She turned, facing Ben. ‘What’s the problem? I think she’s coming down, bless her.’
‘Abigail, run. You need to get away from the cottage.’
‘What’s wrong with you, Ben?’ Suddenly, she saw the wig on the ground and realised something was wrong. She screamed, attempting to get away. Her legs went, and she tripped, falling onto the gravel. She pressed her hands in front, managing to get into a push-up position, then got to her feet.
Though the front door was still shut, they could hear the caller’s feet pounding on the stairs.
‘Quick, Abigail. You need to get out of there.’
She moved backwards as the door opened. Abigail was too frightened to run. She screamed. ‘Help! Someone help!’
The caller grabbed her, his right arm around her neck, the shotgun in his left hand. He lifted Abigail off the ground, wrestling her, turning his body around to get a better grip. Her legs were dangling in the air, kicking out. She let out another scream, weaker this time. Her voice was muffled. She was choking.
Ben watched in horror as her kicks slowed and she stopped struggling. He raced towards them. I’ve got to get her out of there, he thought.
All of a sudden, Abigail kicked her legs out, like a child on a swing pushing to go higher. She hammered them back into the guy’s knees. His legs buckled and he dropped to the ground, writhing in agony.
Abigail composed herself and charged towards Ben, emitting gurgling sounds from her throat. The caller got to his feet and fired a shot into the sky.
Ben and Abigail raced through the field, their ears ringing from the loud explosion, running in the direction of the coach. They dropped to the ground and crawled through the long grass. The caller was only a few feet from where they were. They had to keep hidden or they risked being shot.
They could hear him, muttering to himself, charging one way and then the other, using the gun to clear his path.
‘Keep down. Whatever happens, we need to stay hidden. If he finds us, he’ll shoot. That’s a certainty,’ Ben whispered.
‘I’m so scared, Ben. How are we going to get away from here?’
‘We’ve untied the other passengers. We need to get back, get them off the coach,’ Ben said.
‘Then what? Bring them where? He’ll find us.’
‘I haven’t worked that bit out yet.’
Ben stayed in front, crawling like an animal. Abigail followed close behind. Their hands were stung by the nettles, grazed by small stones buried in the earth. They were moving slowly. Ben stopped, then pushed his body up off the ground.
The light from the upstairs window was now in the distance. The sounds of the caller’s angry search were further away. He reached his hand out and helped Abigail to her feet.
‘He’s probably at the graves. He’ll see we got them out. We need to run. If we stay in the grass, we won’t get back to the coach for hours. Once he sees that Lydia and Jack are gone, he’s going to head for the passengers. He didn’t bank on us ruining his plans. We need to run. Are you ready?’
‘I’ll do my best, Ben.’
‘Let’s go.’
They raced through the fields together, guided by the lights of the coach in the distance.
28
The Coach
Ben and Abigail stood by the door of the coach. They were panting and exhausted. They bent over, catching their breath. They looked behind, knowing the caller would find them.
Ben opened the door and climbed the steps. Abigail followed. Laura leapt on Ben, overwhelmed to see him back safely. ‘I can’t do this anymore,’ she said. ‘We need to get out of here, Ben.’ He could see the stress on her face – the worry lines which had developed in the last few hours.
‘How’s everyone coping? Did you untie them?’ Ben had a hundred questions.
‘Yes. It’s been a struggle keeping them in their seats. Edward has attempted to leave on more than one occasion.’
Ben looked along the aisle. The troubled expressions added to the mounting pressure. ‘Where are Lydia and Jack?’