Decimation: The Girl Who Survived

by Burke, Richard T.

  He returned to the door frame and slipped the flat piece of metal in the spot where somebody had gouged the wood away. He pressed against the lever. The base of the door made a scraping sound, but there was no perceptible movement. He flung himself at the improvised tool, and this time, a crack opened up. Three more shoves and the space between door and frame was large enough to obtain a grip. He inserted both hands through the gap and pulled, but the timber had warped and resisted his efforts. With increasing frustration, he placed a foot against the wall and heaved backwards. Finally, the door surrendered and screeched open.

  A damp, mouldy smell assaulted his nostrils. He slipped through the opening and yanked the handle towards him. The door closed most of the way, but a thin sliver of light remained around the frame. He tossed the faded sign on the floor. A loud clang reverberated through the cavernous space. If there was somebody here, Jason had certainly announced his arrival.

  He surveyed the hangar-like building in the dim illumination that leeched through the narrow, barred windows. Grey tiling extended outwards in a zig-zagging pattern. Dark shadows indicated where machinery or shelving had stood. In several spots, dampness had lifted the tiles spoiling the symmetry of the lines. Rows of fluorescent tubes hung by chains from the high ceiling every few metres, but they had probably remained unused for years. Even without the aid of artificial illumination, he could see that the entire space was empty.

  Jason waited for his heart rate to slow then strolled across the tiled flooring, his footsteps echoing in the vast room. There was no evidence of anybody living here and no place to hide. Maybe Floyd was hanging out in the multi-storey building at the front of the structure. Set in the grubby beige wall at the far end were two green doors. The first was locked, but when he pulled the second, it opened. Glass fronted offices lines both sides of a corridor that led towards another green door. Jason crossed the grey linoleum, glancing into the empty interiors as he passed. Still no sign of habitation.

  He reached the door and turned the handle. It moved a few centimetres before sticking. He applied his shoulder, and it juddered open the rest of the way. He found himself in what was once a large open-plan office. The carpet was a tatty dark-grey colour, the indentations of furniture still visible in places. Once again it was deserted. He inspected the glass-fronted offices that ran around the edge of the room, but all were empty. A short corridor led to male and female toilets. A quick search showed no sign of recent activity.

  He retraced his steps and passed through a set of double doors into what must have been the reception area. The curved desk bearing the Royal Mail logo still occupied its place in the centre of the tiled floor. Two sealed lifts and another pair of swing doors were set in the wall adjacent to the wide staircase that led up. Jason pushed through the doors. He emerged into what was a carbon copy of the first office area, but a quick survey proved this to be equally empty.

  He was beginning to suspect that he had made a wasted trip when a muffled scraping sound reached his ears from above. Maybe somebody was here after all. His heart thudded in his chest as he returned to reception and headed up the stairs. The staircase turned back on itself and led to a space with a lift on one side and toilets on the other. An archway opened into an even larger room with individual offices extending along each of the side walls. The same dark grey-coloured carpet covered the floor.

  Jason figured the time for stealth was long since over. “Um, Mr Floyd?” he called, a slight tremble to his voice. A cloud of steam rose from his mouth in the frigid air. If Floyd was here, he must be hiding in one of the offices. “Mr Floyd?” he called again, louder this time.

  He held his breath and strained his ears. No reply. A sharp bang and the sound of something rolling across a hard surface broke the silence. He spun around. His eyes darted around the dilapidated interior. Nothing moved.

  He headed to his left and pushed open the first office door. Empty. He worked his way along the row. All of them were deserted. Maybe it was just a rat he had heard. The thought of their scaly tails made him shudder. A sudden movement at the periphery of his vision caught his attention. The cord for a raised blind shifted in the air entering through a shattered window.

  He tried to calm his frayed nerves and traversed the room. He tried the first door on the other side. A half-full black plastic bin bag occupied a spot in the far corner. Jason widened the top and peered inside. The rancid stench of rotting food wafted out. He wrinkled his nose and turned away. There was no way to know how long the rubbish had been there, but judging by the condition of the banana skin he had spotted, it couldn’t have been more than a few days.

  Jason pulled the door handle towards him, eager now to inspect the adjoining offices. The door slammed into his midriff, knocking him to the ground and winding him. Before he could recover, a figure barged into the room and knelt on his chest.

  The man clamped his left hand on Jason’s throat. His right grasped a long-bladed knife. The tip quivered less than an inch from Jason’s eye. “What are you doing here?” he growled.

  Jason wrenched his gaze from the knife and towards the man’s face. “I …”

  The blade touched Jason’s cheek. “How the hell do you know my name?” The man paused and frowned. “Shit, it’s you. The Baxter bitch’s son.”

  Jason made a choking sound. He raised a hand, trying to loosen the stranglehold. “I can’t …”

  Floyd’s grip slackened slightly, but the razor-sharp edge remained in place. “How did you know I was here? Spit it out or I’ll start cutting.”

  Jason drew a deep breath and coughed. “My mother’s Head of Security found you.”

  “How did he do that?”

  “I’ve no idea. I overheard them talking on the phone.”

  “So, I’m going to ask you again. What are you doing here?”

  “I … I came to warn you.”

  “Warn me? Warn me about what?”

  “The police are coming.”

  An expression of incredulity crossed the man’s face. “You came here to warn me that the police know where I am?”

  Jason tried to nod then thought better of it. “Yes,” he rasped. “Look I can’t breathe properly. Can I at least sit up? I’m not going to run away. If I wanted to turn you in, I would’ve already done so.”

  “Okay, empty your pockets. You’re not carrying any sort of weapon are you?”

  Jason shook his head. He withdrew his house keys, wallet and phone and placed them on the floor.

  “Lean against that wall,” Floyd said, releasing his grip. Jason shuffled backwards until he felt the hard surface against his back. He rubbed his throat.

  “Don’t try anything. I don’t want to redecorate the place with your blood. Am I clear?”

  Floyd picked up Jason’s belongings. He flipped open the wallet, inspected the contents then tossed it back on the ground.

  “Okay, so you discovered where I was hiding, and you decided to warn me. You haven’t told me why.”

  Jason stared up at the bearded face, the black woollen hat, the grimy skin. “I know you didn’t rape the girl.”

  Floyd fixed him with a glare. “Go on.”

  “My mother was going to let you get arrested for it.”

  “So why should you care?”

  “Well … um, I don’t know. It’s just not right.”

  “Yeah, life’s not fair, and I should know. So do you know who the rapist really is?”

  Jason hesitated. “Um … no, I don’t.”

  “But you know it’s not me?”

  “Yes.”

  Floyd scratched his chin. “I don’t believe you, but we’ll come back to that. When are the police coming?”

  “I’ve no idea. I found out two or three days ago. All I know is that my mother knows you’re here.”

  “You say you want to help me, and yet you waited all that time before warning me? I could be banged up in a prison cell by now. Why did you leave it so long?”

  “I’m not sure. I had
a lot on my mind.”

  Floyd looked down at the busy main road then turned back to Jason. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to discover this place? And now you want me to move on your say so?”

  “Look, do what you like. All I’m telling you is that they know where you are. Why does my mother hate you so much anyway?”

  “Your mother and I go back a long way. I don’t think the vindictive cow has ever forgiven me for dumping her. Not that I owe you any answers.”

  Silence settled on the small room. Floyd stared at the winter sky, deep in thought. Suddenly he tensed. “Shit, it looks like the filth have arrived.” He whirled to face Jason. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you. You’ve brought them right here.”

  Jason shuffled sideways to increase the distance between them. “I already told you – if I wanted to turn you in, I wouldn’t have bothered talking to you. I’d just have told them where to find you.”

  “Maybe.” He turned back to the window. “Well they’re here now, and they’ve come in force.”

  Jason rose to his feet and stood beside Floyd, surveying the empty car park and the road beyond. Three white vehicles were parked in front of the entrance gates. As he watched, people emerged from the cars. One of the men approached the gates holding a large pair of bolt-cutters.

  Floyd hurried out of the room and into the adjoining office. Seconds later he emerged carrying two bulging plastic bin bags. “If you don’t want to get arrested, I suggest you follow me.” Without waiting for a response, he rushed towards the staircase. Jason needed no second invitation. He snatched up his own belongings and trailed the other man down the stairs. When they reached the ground floor, Floyd retraced Jason’s route into the huge hangar-like building. However, instead of going to the door Jason had used to gain entry, he headed to one at the far end. He drew back the bolts, pulled it open and darted out into the overcast afternoon.

  He sprinted ahead to a gap between two buildings, apparently towards a dead-end. The area ended in a low single storey structure. He tossed the two bags onto the roof then shimmied up a drainpipe after them. Keeping his head lowered, he ran up the shallow incline and then down the other side. Jason followed a short distance behind. The pair dropped down beside some adjoining shrubs.

  Floyd stuck his head around the corner of the building. Satisfied that nobody was there, he turned to Jason. “Thanks for the tip-off. Give my regards to your mother … actually, on second thoughts don’t bother.” He took two paces then hesitated. He spun around and studied Jason’s face for a moment before coming to a decision.

  “Have you still got your phone?”

  Jason nodded.

  Floyd held out his hand. “Unlock it and give it to me.”

  Jason held the lozenge-shaped device up to his eye and stared into the camera. When it beeped, he handed it over.

  “I’m adding my number,” Floyd said, tapping at the keys. “If you have any more tip-offs, call me. It’s under the name F.”

  He tossed the phone back.

  Jason opened the contacts list and found the entry as Floyd had indicated. When he looked up again, the man had disappeared.

  Chapter 39

  Saturday 8th January 2033

  Karen Atkins surveyed the dingy grey carpet and shivered in the frigid atmosphere.

  “Jesus, I wouldn’t want to live here,” she muttered.

  The uniformed policeman who was carrying a black bin bag of rubbish towards the stairs looked at her questioningly. “Eh?” he said.

  “Oh, nothing,” Kat said. “Where’s your sergeant?”

  The man pointed in the direction of one of the abandoned offices. Kat thanked him and strolled to the door he had indicated. She stepped inside to find a tall man in a dark blue uniform staring out of the window with his back to her. The man whirled around at the sound of footsteps behind him.

  “Ah, you must be Karen Atkins,” he said taking a step forwards. “Mike Knowles.” He extended a meaty hand and crushed hers in a powerful grip.

  “Hi Mike,” she said, subconsciously rubbing her knuckles. “Everybody calls me Kat. So what have you got?”

  The man frowned. His hair was brown but flecked with grey and receding at the temples. A thin layer of stubble ran from cheek to cheek. It was a large face, but all the elements were in proportion. A typical policeman’s face thought Kat. “Well, somebody was certainly here recently. There was a bag of rubbish, a couple of books, a comb.”

  “Yeah, I just saw one of your men carrying an evidence bag out.”

  “We’ll check everything for fingerprints. We should be able to confirm pretty quickly whether it’s your man or not.”

  “So you don’t know yet if he was living here by himself or not?”

  “Like I said, the fingerprints should tell us that, but all the signs are that he was alone.”

  Kat paused for a second. “I take it you’ve searched the entire building?”

  The sergeant held her gaze before replying. “We may only be the local police, but we do know what we’re doing.”

  “Um … sorry,” Kat replied. “I wasn’t trying to imply …”

  “Right,” the man said, relaxing slightly. “As luck would have it, we did have a drone up this afternoon. Unfortunately, it was quite high to cover the whole of the town – the cuts you know. I’m having one of my men examine the footage now.”

  “So you’ll be able to see when he left and where he went?”

  “Yeah, but the resolution probably won’t be good enough to identify him.”

  “Okay. Can you let me know as soon as you hear anything? How did you know to look here?”

  “Anonymous tip-off,” the policeman said. “The caller knew Floyd’s name and described the location perfectly, which is why we took it seriously. It came from an unregistered mobile, but we do know it originated from somewhere around Cambridge.”

  Kat stared out of the window, deep in thought, before turning back to the sergeant. “Isn’t that a bit strange? If the call came from Cambridge, the person must have been hanging onto the information for a while. It’s not as if the informant spotted our man and called it in straight away.”

  “Yeah, it is weird, but I’m not sure what it means. Maybe they thought about it before calling us.”

  “Have you tried to trace the phone?”

  “I’ve got one of my men looking into it now, but I don’t hold out much hope. If whoever it is doesn’t want to be identified and is savvy enough to use an unregistered phone, they’re unlikely to leave it turned on.”

  “But if that’s the case, it doesn’t sound like your average law-abiding citizen, does it? I mean, who’s going to buy a mobile and then throw it away after one call?”

  The policeman ran a hand across his stubble. “Let’s see what the trace turns up, but it’s a good point.”

  “Do you mind if I have a look around?” Kat asked.

  “Sure, do what you like, but I’m sure I don’t have to remind you not to touch anything.”

  It was Kat’s turn to roll her eyes. “Don’t worry, Mike, I may not be the local police, but I do know how to treat a crime scene.”

  “Touché,” the policeman said, grinning.

  Kat returned the smile, turned around and left the office. She walked a few metres and stuck her head inside the next door. Another policeman was photographing something on the floor in the far corner of the room.

  He glanced behind him. “Can I help you?”

  “Karen Atkins, Maternity Crimes Unit. What have you got?”

  “Hi. It’s a comb. It may belong to the suspect. I’m just about to bag it.”

  “Yeah, your sergeant mentioned it. Anything else?”

  The man shook his head. Kat thanked him and returned to the large open-plan area. She looked inside each of the rows of offices but discovered nothing out of the ordinary. She had just about decided that there was nothing further to see when the sergeant strode across the room towards her.

  “Kat, glad y
ou haven’t left yet. You’ll want to hear this. I’ve just heard back from the drone unit. They saw two people leave the premises shortly after we arrived.”

  “Two people? Are you sure?” Kat asked.

  “Yeah, they used one of the doors out of the old sorting room.”

  “Sorry, where’s that?”

  He pointed in the direction of the staircase. “You know, the big long building tacked onto the back of this one. They came out together and climbed over the roof of one of the outbuildings. Then they split up.”

  “Do you know where they went?”

  “One of them headed back towards the station.”

  “Do you know which train he caught?”

  “It’s difficult to say. The main entrance is under cover so he disappeared from view when he went in. If we check the footage carefully, we may be able to work out which platform he came out on and from that, the time of the train, but it’s going to take a while. Remember what I said about the drone being high up.”

  “Damn. Isn’t there CCTV in the station?”

  “Hmm. There should be, but from past experience, it’s often on the blink.”

  “What about the other man?”

  “Unfortunately, he headed away from the city centre and out of the drone’s camera range.”

  Kat scratched an ear. “Any cameras on the ground along his route?”

  “Maybe, but in the current climate, there’s not been much investment in that sort of thing. We’ll check it out, but don’t expect anything quickly.”

  “He’s a slippery bastard, this one, but it looks like he’s not working alone.”

  “Yeah, it’s galling to get so close and let him slip away again.”

  Kat sighed in frustration. Suddenly she shot out a hand and grasped the sergeant’s arm. “Hang on. You said one of the two people went to the train station. Isn’t it possible that he arrived by train too? If he did, you could backtrack his movements and work out what train he travelled on.”

  “The drone’s only up for three or four hours at a time. They generally don’t fly at night, but if he got here in the last couple of hours we'd be able to tell when and where he came from. I’ll get my team on it right away.”