‘Is that you, Nige?’
A soft voice; female. He recognised it from somewhere.
Think!
‘It’s me. Sarah.’
Then it all came roaring back. The barn, the car, the gun butt. The pain suddenly sharper too.
‘I’m sorry I got you into this.’
‘Where are we?’ he asked.
‘We’re in a cellar,’ she replied, her voice wobbly. ‘Under the barn.’
‘Who?’
‘I didn’t see his face. He was wearing a zombie face mask.’
‘Why can’t I open my eyes?’
‘You’ve got a big gash in your forehead, over your left eye, and the blood’s run down. You’ve been unconscious for ages, although I can’t see my watch and he’s taken our phones. There’s a small window and it’s dark outside. God knows what time it is; middle of the night, I reckon.’
‘Describe this cellar to me.’ Cole was blinking furiously, trying to force his eyelids apart.
‘There’s not a lot down here,’ replied Sarah. ‘You’re sitting opposite me, about ten feet away. We’re both on wooden chairs. There are some cider bottles in boxes against the wall to your left, a small cider press in the corner behind me, a workbench on the far side of the cellar off to your right; and one of those dresser things behind you, the things people line up their plates on.’
‘I know.’
Cole tensed his legs and lurched forward, his chair moving an inch or so. ‘Where’s the door?’
‘Behind you and to the right, in the corner. There’s some steps and a door at the top. I heard it lock when he left. There’s a light switch top and bottom.’
‘What did he do to you?’
‘He hit me with the shotgun. I woke up tied to this chair, like you. He was gone. I’ve almost got my right hand free, but I must’ve taken the skin off my thumb.’
‘Is it cable ties?’
‘Big white ones.’
‘Did this bloke say anything?’
‘Nothing at all,’ replied Sarah. ‘He hit you bloody hard, then he dragged you down the stairs. Are you all right?’
That explained the pain. Everywhere was hurting now.
‘There’s something else you need to know,’ continued Sarah. ‘Behind you, at the base of the dresser thing, there’s a dead body. I think he’s dead anyway. He hasn’t moved the whole time I’ve been sitting here, and there’s a lot of blood on the floor next to him. Looks to me like he’s had his throat cut.’
She was keeping her composure remarkably well for a probationer. Cole was about to lose his, but Sarah seemed unflappable.
‘Do you recognise him?’
‘No, never seen him before. He’s lying in the foetal position, right behind you, hands tied behind his back; must’ve been there when we arrived. Definitely had his throat cut.’
And there it was, in one sentence, the fate that awaited them. Cole could see it, even if Sarah couldn’t. The man had probably been sitting on the same chair before he’d been killed.
Think, for fuck’s sake!
‘He took our phones, you said.’
‘Yeah, he did,’ replied Sarah.
‘That means they’ll have pinged masts near here, so as soon as someone realises we’re missing and checks, they’ll come looking and find us.’ Cole wasn’t entirely sure who he was trying to convince, Sarah or himself. And whoever it was would realise that too, and come back to clean up the mess.
‘My mum will be doing her nut,’ said Sarah. ‘I usually ring her if I’m going to be late.’
‘My wife the same,’ said Cole. ‘I’ll never hear the last of it.’
‘It’s raining now.’ He could hear her chair creaking as Sarah turned in her seat. ‘I can hear it hitting a tin roof outside,’ she said.
His right eye was opening now, just, although the lashes were still matted together with blood. Dark shadows emerging from the darkness, a shape in the faintest glow from the tiny window just beneath the ceiling. He tried to turn and look over his shoulder, but couldn’t see anything at all of the dead body behind him.
It was going to have to be the cider bottles. Lurch over, one hop at a time, fall over backwards on to them, hoping the chair broke the glass and a splinter didn’t take an artery with it. Then he’d have to feel for a shard of glass in the darkness and cut himself free.
He really should have told her he had a train to catch, but then she’d be down here all on her own.
‘Where exactly were these cider bottles?’
