'I can't get up there. I have to hide somewhere else. How far is he?'
'He's coming closer, Sam. He'll be here soon.' Lloyd had begun to cry.
'Stop crying and listen, Lloyd. You're safe up there. He can't get you. But don't make a sound, not a single sound, until he's gone way past us, and put your hands over your ears, too. We're going to be okay. The hole is almost there and then we'll be outta here. Okay? Lloyd?'
Sam took the little potting fork out of his rucksack and gripped it in his hand, but it didn't stop his hands from shaking.
'Sam? Sam?' Lloyd's voice was wobbling.
'Shush. I'll come and tell you when he's gone. Don't talk any more. Keep quiet.'
Sam had seen the light, and it was coming their way, slowly, in wide sweeping arcs, and Sam thought, I've got away from this before. I can do it again.
He moved into the woods, looking for a nook, a hollow, a low branch, and all the while the sweeping arc of light moved closer. It wasn't just a regular torchlight; it was one of those heavy-duty spotlight lamp things that gave off tons of light and didn't run off just batteries but needed charging. The man must have recharged it during the day so that it was ready for his night-time hunting.
Sam wanted to be able to keep an eye on Lloyd's tree, so he couldn't go too far, but the choice was limited and Sam couldn't see in the dark. As the arcing light got closer and threw shadows and silhouettes into the darkness, Sam spotted a tree that wasn't too far from Lloyd. It wasn't the tallest tree, but its trunk was broad and it splayed off into three hefty trunk-like branches from a few feet off the ground. Its upper branches didn't look that strong, but Sam wasn't going to climb it. There was a niche where the main tree trunk divided into three trunks and that's where Sam was going to hide. He clambered up and squeezed himself into the hollow; it was a tight fit, but that was better in a way. It meant he'd be practically invisible.
The light was coming closer, but at a slow steady pace. Lloyd had been right. The man wasn't going to give up. They might not know his name, but they'd seen his face. They knew what he looked like, and they knew what he had done. They weren't going to let him get away with it. Sam wasn't going to let him get away with it. The first thing he'd do when they were through the hole was find a police station. If Sam had been bigger and stronger he could have ambushed the man, and knocked him out. Or stuck the garden fork in his leg. Or whacked him over the head with the shovel. That's what Sam wanted to do – and it was a horrible thing.
Somehow, in less than two days, he'd learnt to hate, and it was a hatred so deep that it made him want to hurt someone, kill someone. He'd never hurt anyone in his life. He'd never even killed a spider. But Sam wasn't big and strong. He was just a kid; and he was angry, and he was frightened, and he wanted to go home, that was all.
The light came closer to Lloyd's tree. Sam watched and listened carefully, praying that Lloyd wouldn't make a sound, wouldn't cry, wouldn't whimper, wouldn't answer the man, and wouldn't come down from the tree. 'Please, please, please, Lloyd, don't make a sound,' repeated itself over and over in his head. It all hinged on this one thing, on Lloyd. If Lloyd could hold it together for just a few minutes longer, they'd be fine. They'd be home.
The light went past Lloyd's tree at the same excruciatingly slow, steady pace. Sam ducked down, pressing himself close to the tree, becoming part of it as the light approached him. The man wasn't speaking or calling their names, but Sam's heart was drumming in his ears now and he wouldn't have heard anything anyway. He knew it was worse for Lloyd, but Lloyd had stayed quiet. He'd held it together. Sam had to do the same.
The light didn't pass by quickly. The man was doing a thorough search and he'd carry on searching until he found them. He must have thought they were still there, in the house or in the woods, or he wouldn't still be looking for them, which meant the only escape route was under the fence. The sense of urgency was back and Sam needed to get back to the hole and make it deeper and longer, faster – somehow.
He had to get Lloyd to help him.
But he couldn't do any of that until the man moved on. Why was he lingering around here for so long? Had Sam left anything out in view?
17
The spotlight lit up the woods with its harsh glare, swinging slowly from side to side, but never swinging upwards into the trees. The man was stupid, and they were lucky he was stupid. He was heading in Sam's direction now. Sam scrunched his eyes shut tight. He was close to him now. He could almost hear him breathing. He wanted to stop him from breathing. He wanted to stab the garden fork through his heart so he would never breathe again. But Sam knew he couldn't do it . . . Could he? It would have been easy. All he had to do was to jump out of the hollow. The garden fork was already clenched in his hand. It might be his only chance.
Do it, Sam, do it now.
Then the man moved on, past the tree, and the moment was gone.
Sam opened his eyes, but didn't move. He could see the back of the man's head turning from side to side following the beam of light. He took a small step forward and shone the light from side to side again before taking another small step forward. It was a methodical search, a painstakingly thorough search. Was anyone else searching for them with such diligence, with such perseverance? Or was it just the nutter? Maybe everyone thought they had run away. You heard stories of kids running away all the time. Maybe that's why no one else was looking for them.
The man was moving off; he was at least a hundred yards away now and Sam let his body relax and slump down into the hollow. He gasped a breath of air into his lungs, cold air, which made him half-splutter and he had to bury his face in the crook of his arm to stop himself from coughing. You idiot! He screamed silently at himself. Had the man heard? Had he turned back? Sam raised himself up just enough to see out of the hollow. No, he was safe – the man was still going in the other direction, away from them.
Sam waited until the light was well into the distance before prising himself out of the hollow. He had to go and see if Lloyd was okay and then get back to digging the hole. He got out of the hollow with difficulty, and then it took another few minutes before he could walk properly. Cold, cramped, aching, battered and bruised. But there was no time to feel sorry for himself. If he'd been on his own, he would probably have stayed in the hollow of the tree, or in the cubbyhole in the shed, and never have come out. But he wasn't on his own. Lloyd was with him, and he was relying on him.
'Lloyd? It's me, Sam. You okay?' Sam said softly into the tree.
The leaves rustled in the tree and the branches shook as Lloyd made his way down to the lower branches.
'He's gone,' Sam said.
'For now,' Lloyd whispered.
'Look, I need your help digging the hole. It'll go faster with two of us.'
Lloyd looked at him and Sam knew he was too afraid to come out of the tree. He didn't blame him, not one bit. It was the best place to hide.
'He won't come back to this part of the woods for hours. Maybe not until the morning. We'll be safe for ages. You can always come back to the tree.'
Lloyd didn't budge.
'Please, Lloyd. I don't want to be anywhere near here when he comes back.'
After a long pause, Lloyd said, 'Sam . . .' and that was all Lloyd said.
Sam wasn't angry with Lloyd. Well, not that angry. If he were in the tree, he probably wouldn't come down either, but he wasn't.
'Hoot twice if you see him coming back,' Sam said, and he turned away quickly so Lloyd wouldn't see the feeling-sorry-for-himself-tears splashing down his face making bizarre tracks through the caked-on blood and mud.
He went back to the hole and scooped the leaves off the shovel. He started digging frantically, blindly, and didn't stop for ages and ages. When he did, his watch said half past five and it was still dark, but the hole was dug and the owl hadn't hooted once.
Sam stared at the hole, not quite able to believe that he'd done it. Raw blisters covered the insides of his hands, and there was a horrible mix of blood
and soil all over him, his hair, his face, his clothes; he must have looked like Rambo, or more like a midget orc. But it didn't matter because he had done it. He had dug a hole big enough for a kid to sneak out through.
Lloyd must have fallen asleep while Sam had been digging the hole. Sam had kept half an eye out for the man's spotlight flashing through the trees, but he hadn't seen it. The man must have gone back to the house for a kip – he had to sleep sometime, didn't he? He'd wake up and resume his search and eventually he'd see the hole to freedom, and it would be like a noose around his neck. He'd know he was done for. He'd freak.
Sam pushed his rucksack through the hole and then crouched down on his hands and knees and crawled through the hole, just to check they could get through it okay before he went back to get Lloyd. He squirmed through on his belly and came out the other side. He smiled, and then he went back through the hole into the grounds of the house.
He had to hurry now. It would be dawn break soon and Sam didn't want them to be inside the grounds then. He wanted to be far, far away from here. He wanted to be at home scoffing a warm bacon buttie with ketchup dribbling down his fingers. The thought of food made him aware of the intense gnawing pain in his stomach. Time to get Lloyd out of his safe house, or rather his safe tree. He ran back.
'Lloyd! Lloyd? I've done it!'
He had fallen asleep, Sam thought, when there was no response from in the tree. He called a bit louder, and then louder again. He had to take the risk. He had to wake Lloyd up. The sky was turning from black to blue, which meant it was almost dawn and it would be light soon.
'Lloyd, wake up! Come on! I've done it. Let's go!'
Finally, the branches began to sway as Lloyd made his way down the tree.
'Sorry, Sam. I fell asleep,' he said when he appeared.
'It's okay. We've got to go. I've finished the hole,' Sam said.
Lloyd peered out of the tree, his eyes scanning the woodland. He didn't seem to sense Sam's urgency.
'Come on. Hurry up. It's clear. He's not around.'
'How do you know that?'
'Because I do. I've been keeping watch and digging. It's safe. Please hurry up, Lloyd.'
Still Lloyd didn't move.
'What's the matter? Don't you want to leave?'
Lloyd didn't reply. Sam stared at him, his mouth open with disbelief.
'How stupid are you!' he snapped, but he was sorry in an instant. 'Come on, Lloyd, don't ruin our chance.'
'I-I just want to be sure he's not waiting for me to come down,' Lloyd whispered.
'He's not!'
'He's going to be really angry with me.'
'It doesn't matter. We're going home,' Sam said. 'He can be as angry as he wants. It won't do him any good.'
'He said he'd take me home today,' Lloyd said.
'What? No, he didn't! And it's Sunday today, and he's not going to take you home.'
'He – he said he would.'
Sam glared at Lloyd. He didn't know what had come over him, or why he was acting so strange. Deep down Sam did know – it was because of the man, and Sam just hadn't realised how much power the man had over Lloyd, or how much of the old Lloyd had been lost, destroyed.
No amount of pleading, coaxing or persuading was going to work when someone was that scared. Sam had to start threatening him, and if that didn't work, he'd have to leave Lloyd in the tree. But that would be the last resort because Sam didn't want to leave Lloyd behind.
'If you don't come down from that flipping tree, I'm going to get really angry,' Sam yelled. 'I'll come up there and throw you out of it! I mean it!'
While they had been talking, dawn had broken. Daylight flooded the woods, taking away the secrecy of their hiding place. Their anonymity was gone. The woods weren't that dense at all; they had just looked that way at night. Sam could see the sheds, and the garages further up, and beyond that the big house. If the man had been looking out of a back window, he would have been able to see them. They were in full view. Exposed.
Sam wasn't very good at being angry with Lloyd, especially when Lloyd looked so scared, and he felt awful for yelling and threatening him now. He went back to the coaxing strategy. 'Look, you can see the hole I've dug. He won't catch us. See?' Sam said. 'I promise.'
Lloyd looked at the hole and shook his head. 'It looks too small. I can't get through there.'
'Yes, you can. I've tried it out. Don't be scared. Just come down from the tree. You have to, Lloyd – I don't want to leave you behind. But I will. I'm not staying here. I want to go home. I am going home, Lloyd.'
Lloyd didn't move. Sam turned away and started moving off towards the hole.
'Sam?'
But Sam didn't look back; he kept on walking. He heard leaves rustling behind him and the thud of someone jumping to the ground, but he kept walking until he got to the hole. It was completely light now and beyond the fence, Sam could see an open field, knee-high in weeds and brambles. It was going to be hard work getting across it, especially if he had to drag Lloyd along, too. Anyone watching from the house or the woods would see them easily. Stupid Lloyd! If he'd only helped him dig the hole; if he'd only come down from the tree before it got light. But it was okay. None of that mattered now. Lloyd had come down from the tree, and they were going to get away. He waited for Lloyd to catch up.
'You go first,' Sam said when Lloyd reached the hole. 'I'll be right behind you.'
He didn't trust Lloyd to follow him. He could just see him belting it back to his safe tree while Sam was going through the hole, and Sam wasn't going to take that risk.
Lloyd lowered himself down and started squirming through the hole. It was much harder for him as he was a bit bigger than Sam, and Sam wished he'd told him to take his coat off first. Lloyd was struggling and there wasn't much space to manoeuvre inside the hole.
'I think I'm stuck,' Lloyd sobbed.
'No, you're not! Just keep wriggling forwards. You're almost there, Lloyd. Just a bit further. You've done it!'
Lloyd came out of the other side of the hole and sat down facing the grounds. He drew his knees up to his chest, hugging them close, and then he began to rock backwards and forwards.
'See you did it! You're free,' Sam exclaimed with a grin. He was relieved and indescribably happy at that moment. He'd worked really hard for it, and because of him Lloyd was on the other side of the fence, free of the man, free to go home.
Lloyd should have been happy, and laughing, and smiling, but he had begun to cry.
'You don't have to cry, Lloyd. You're on the other side,' Sam said. 'Right, my turn.'
Just as Sam realised that Lloyd wasn't looking at him but at something over his shoulder, Lloyd raised a hand and pointed into the grounds. Sam turned to look. He already knew who it was.
He must have spotted them when it got light – or he could have heard Sam yelling at Lloyd.
The man was heading down the track from the sheds, coming their way, carrying something under his arm. Something big, shiny and silver.
Sam didn't care. Let him come, Sam thought, and he began to laugh and he couldn't stop, and Lloyd kept on crying, and the man kept walking towards them.
Get a grip, Sam, a little voice said, but Sam heard it through the laughter and the tears. Time to go. He threw himself onto his stomach and started squirming through the hole.
18
Almost there. Almost there. Then he was through the hole. The man couldn't get through the hole – that's why he'd brought the big shiny silver thing with him. Sam knew exactly what it was, and Sam didn't care. He wasn't going to hang around waiting for him to climb over the fence, not when the hole led to freedom.
'Come on, Lloyd.'
Sam yanked his arm, but Lloyd wouldn't get up. He was paralysed; frozen with the fear that came over him when the man was nearby. Sam began pulling and dragging him across the field. They didn't make much progress. Both their eyes were on the man. Lloyd had been so right – the sicko just wasn't going to give up. He'd leaned his ladder up
against the fence, and he was smiling at them.
What does he have to smile about, Sam wondered. He was going to have to get over the barbed wire and the sharp spokes at the top of the fence, and then jump down this side of the fence. Even for a big bloke like him that was going to be tough. So why was he smiling?
'Wait for me, Lloyd!' he called out. 'I'm coming to get you.'
Lloyd was a quivering wreck by now, and he was doing just that: waiting for the man, and no amount of pulling and yanking was going to get Lloyd off the ground and running away, and yelling at him had no effect at all. Sam didn't know what to do. He knew what he wanted to do – he wanted to run across the field, and keep running for as long as he could. But he couldn't leave Lloyd sitting there, waiting for the man. The thing was the man was banking on that. He knew Sam wouldn't leave Lloyd behind, and Lloyd knew that, too.
The man was at the top of the ladder now. He took something out of his pocket – wire cutters, or something, and started cutting through the barbed wire.
Sam squatted down on the ground in front of Lloyd and held Lloyd's face in his hands so all Lloyd could see was Sam's face.
'Lloyd, listen to me, not to him. He won't be able to get across the fence easily. He's got to jump and it's a long way down. There's no way he can do that without hurting himself. If we leave now and just get across this field, we'll be safe,' he said.
He repeated it several times, and finally it did go in. Lloyd stopped crying, but he hadn't stopped shaking.
'Come on, Lloyd. Let's go.'
'I-I can't move, Sam.'
'I'll help you.'
Lloyd shook his head. 'I'm sorry. I'm scared.'
'Don't be sorry. Don't be scared,' Sam said. 'Be upset, be angry, be anything that helps you get away. That helps us get away!'
The man was leaning over the top of the fence. He'd cut away a section of the barbed wire, but he must have cut himself because his hand was bleeding. He was scowling, and cursing them loudly. They could hear it all clearly. Lloyd cringed and cowered every time he heard the man say his name.
The Long Weekend Page 11