The sun, lower in the sky now, continued to shine through the windows to his right. Its rays blinded that side of the church from his view, but that didn’t matter.
He turned to his left, tried to stretch his tired and stiff neck muscles as far as they would go.
He tried to look over his left shoulder, but he couldn’t see far enough.
He leaned forward in the chair, the metal of the handcuffs clattering against the chair back and biting deeper into his numb wrists.
But he didn’t care anymore.
He twisted himself as far as he could to the left.
His eyes strained as the kitchenette came back into his view.
And there it was.
Sitting on the counter of the kitchenette.
He stared at it for what seemed like ages.
The phone.
Twenty-eight
He made it to the halfway mark just as the final rays of sun disappeared across the horizon.
He didn’t know how long he had spent staring at the phone once he saw it, but the sun had dipped below the windows when he finally got his mind into action and formed a plan.
It was so simple, he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it earlier. The phone had completely slipped his mind, and only thoughts of spending Sunday at work had brought it back to him.
He shook his head and stifled a laugh.
You idiot, he thought to himself. You could have been out of this situation hours ago!
All he had to do was get to the phone, reach it somehow, and call somebody – anybody – for help.
To begin with, it had taken him some time to work the feeling back into his body. Limbering his cold and hard joints, suffering through the countless bouts of pins and needles, gritting his teeth as cramp after cramp racked his dehydrated body, finally he felt there was enough feeling and movement to let him try to make it to the phone.
It would hurt.
But the hurt was worth it.
And so he had begun…
Slowly, using his feet and arms to propel his whole body, he began to make small jumps in the chair. His body was heavy and the chair weighed him down even more, but he found he could slide the chair forward on the wooden floor, ever so slightly, with each jump. The handcuffs bit harder into his wrists and the rope around his ankles rubbed at the already-raw skin, but after a considerable amount of effort and countless jumps, he had managed to turn the chair around to face the phone.
It was no more than twenty feet away from him.
Now he had his goal in sight.
I’ll make it.
He drew an imaginary line halfway between where he was sitting and the phone on the kitchen counter. The line ran parallel with the end of the long wooden table.
He would rest when he finally reached that imaginary line. That was the deal he made with himself.
And now, with one last jump and as the sun sank below the horizon, he reached his self-imposed halfway point.
Just in time, too. Night will soon fall.
He slumped back into the chair and tried to get his breathing under control. He was sweating again. This time it was freely running down his face, some of it falling into his mouth and onto his swollen tongue.
His eyes had been focussed on the phone since he began the journey. He had no idea how long it had taken him to get this far, but he was filled with new hope that soon this ordeal would be over.
He thought about Zoe and Helen as he sat there resting his weary limbs; his chest heaving and arms and legs aching from the effort. He wanted to know what had happened to them, where they were, and why they hadn’t returned.
He thought he knew why.
Fox.
But he wasn’t going to think the worst until he knew for sure.
I have to know for sure.
But the first thing he had to do was get himself out of his own situation.
And now you’re halfway there.
His breathing sounded loud in the silence of the church. He looked around for the first time in ages, checking out the section of the church that had been out of his view for most of the day. His eyes searched for anything he could use, but most importantly for the poker from the fireplace. But he couldn’t see it anywhere.
Where is it? Did Zoe take it with her?
He couldn’t remember her taking it. But he didn’t see her leave, as he was facing the other way. So, it was possible that she had taken it with her.
But why take a poker if you have a gun?
Backup?
Plan B?
Doesn’t look like it did her any good.
John pushed the thought from his mind.
Gotta get out of this first, he told himself. Worry about Zoe and Helen later.
He tried to convince himself of that, but he was worried about them more than ever now. He kept wishing that he would suddenly hear the engine of the Jeep. He hoped they would pull into the driveway and walk through the door. They would smile at him, walk to him and untie him.
He wished.
He hoped.
But it wasn’t happening.
With the sun gone from the sky, he could look out through the windows once more. Darkness was quickly settling around the church.
John didn’t like the idea of being tied up all night in this place.
Cold and alone.
Alone.
Alone with no one.
He took a deep breath once more, refocused his eyes on the phone, and started the second half of his trek.
The jumps in the chair covered little distance. Sometimes, he would push off badly and actually slide backwards instead of forwards. But that didn’t happen often now that he had managed to work out the best way to do it. The rest of the distance should be easier and take almost no time to cross.
He had begun by trying to use his feet and legs, but he soon realised the more effort he put into the bottom half of his body, the more chance he had of accidentally pushing himself backwards along the floor.
Instead, he transferred most of the work to his arms and torso. That way he could propel himself forwards, using his feet only as a steadying platform so he didn’t topple forward or to the side.
The handcuffs bit even deeper into his raw and wounded wrists, but he didn’t care. He had to get to the phone.
His bladder was heavier now, and every time he jumped, he could feel the sharp pain deep within him, as if he were about to burst. He needed to escape quickly so he could quench his thirst and empty his bladder.
He pushed up and forward once more.
The chair scraped forward on the floorboards, the sound echoing loudly in the church.
He stopped and took a quick breath.
Then jumped forward again.
Stop.
Breath.
Push.
Stop.
Breath.
Push.
Stop. Breath. Push.
Again and again.
Again again againagainagain.
Slow, painful, monotonous work.
And every time he jumped, he felt the pain, dull and lower down.
His bladder.
But there was precious little he could do about it anyway.
It was full. He could feel it sitting heavy and swollen inside him.
But he was getting closer. He was getting there.
Slowly the phone was getting closer.
Closer and closer as the room around him grew darker and darker.
Stop. Breath. Push.
He had no idea who he was going to call or how he was going to use the phone when he got there, that was something he would worry about once he got over his current hurdle. But he knew it was his key to freedom.
Key to freedom?
John stopped himself from the next jump and stared down at his right hip.
His key ring was gone.
The key ring Zoe had given him.
The one that held the red key.
The key to freedom…?
; That’s what she’d said!
The key to freedom…
It was gone.
His mind spun as he thought about the key.
The red key.
Was it really the key to freedom?
Is that what she really meant?
Was it the key to the handcuffs that currently held him?
And what had she done with it?
He glanced around the church once more, this time looking for his key ring or the red key. He checked out the bench in the kitchenette, the long wooden table, even over by the fireplace.
The night was quickly falling and his eyes could see no further into the back recesses of the church.
He couldn’t see his key ring anywhere.
Either way, it didn’t matter now. She’d taken it from him, he was sure of that. And she hadn’t left it where he could find it.
That would be too easy. Way too fuckin’ easy!
And suddenly, anger welled up in John’s chest.
How can she treat me like this? Why would she do it? I could’ve helped her, I could’ve got her and Helen away from Fox. But no, she has to do it herself and like a stupid fool she does! I let her walk out of here and to her death, the stupid bitch! And now we’re all going to die!
“Not me,” he said between gritted teeth.
He focussed on the phone once more.
“Not me!”
He jumped in the chair, ignoring the pain in his limbs and bladder, and moved closer to the kitchenette.
I’ll show her that I can survive. I’ll show them all how someone can overcome anything and still survive.
Stop. Breath. Push.
I will survive. No stupid game is going to stop me!
Stop. Breath. Push.
I have way too much to live for!
The light was almost gone and he squinted through his eyes to keep the phone as his main focus.
Stop. Breath. Push.
Stop. Breath. Push. Stop. Breath. Push.
He was closer now, closer than ever before.
So close to the kitchenette.
No more than two or three feet away from the counter and the phone.
“Almost there,” he whispered as the sweat ran down the side of his face.
His body was racked with pain, his arms felt as if they were about to break free of their sockets, his bladder was heavy and his ankles and wrists felt raw and bloody.
Stop. Breath. Push.
Closer, closer now.
His breathing became louder, he could hear it echo in the church. It filled his ears, filled his whole world.
The scraping of the chair on the floor became louder and more constant too, joining his breathing in a rhythmic beat.
John held his breath for one last mighty effort.
Push, push, push.
So close…
Push.
I’ll show them, I’ll show them all!
“This is it!”
He let out an almighty scream and launched himself at the counter, every fibre of his body straining for extra distance.
His feet pushed, and slipped.
His chair sailed forward, but his body twisted, sending the chair slewing off at an angle, turning him sideways as he flew.
His head cannoned into the side of the counter. It struck the surface hard, hitting him just above the temple.
He saw stars as he fell and hit the floor with a grunt of pain. The impact jarred his body.
The sound of the metal chair slamming into the floor echoed around the church as the air whooshed from his body.
John thought night fell around him suddenly.
It didn’t.
He lay on his side on the church floor, limp and still handcuffed to the chair.
A warm wetness quickly spread around his groin, but John didn’t feel it.
Consciousness slipped from him.
The phone was above him, still on the bench, and out of reach.
And silence returned to the church once more.
Twenty-nine
Falling.
Falling backwards.
There’s nothing I can do.
I’m falling.
I reach out.
Try to grab hold.
Can’t.
There’s nothing to hold.
Why?
Why did you do this to me?
How could you?
You turned to me.
I saw your face.
It was you.
Laughter.
It’s all around me again.
I can hear it.
I can hear you.
You’re laughing at me.
Laughing with them.
Laughing at ME!
Why?
How can you?
I tried to help.
I tried to fix things.
Now I’m falling.
And you look on.
Falling further.
You won’t help.
You can’t help.
You can’t help?
Or you won’t?
How can you not help me?
I tried.
Tried so hard to help you.
Falling.
Further.
And further down.
I reach out to you once more.
Help me.
Please?
PLEASE!
Help me before they get to me!
Help me before I fall forever.
Before I am lost.
Lost!
Lost without you.
Yes, reach out.
Yes, yes!
Reach out to me.
Help me!
I’m reaching too.
See?
Yes, we can reach!
I can touch you.
I feel you now.
Yes!
Grab hold.
Please.
Yes!
Our fingers entwine.
My falling is slowing.
Hold on.
Please hold on to me.
Yes.
Almost there.
Yes.
Hold me.
Hold me and love me.
Yes.
Love me like I love you.
Love me until I must return.
Thirty
John woke with his face pressed into the cold hard floor.
He opened his eyes, but the darkness around him was complete. He could see nothing.
For a few seconds he had no idea where he was, or why he was in so much pain.
And then it started to come back to him.
Zoe.
The church.
The phone!
He remembered now. He remembered his last frantic leap. He remembered slipping and becoming unbalanced, flipping through the air, the pain and then the fall to the floor.
He remembered it all.
Damn it, he thought. Your best chance, and you blew it! How could you be so stupid as to ruin the best chance you had of escape?
The pain in his right shoulder was intense and moving it only made the agony worse. He tried to move his whole body, but it was difficult as he was numb and cold and stiff.
He had landed in a heap on the floor, his right shoulder and face pressed hard against the cold wooden floorboards. Behind him, and off to the side at a strange angle, his arms and legs hung in the air. The metal chair pressed down on him from above.
He sniffed. The smell of urine filled his nostrils.
The shock from the fall must have jarred his bladder. He didn’t have much feeling in his body, but he was sure he could feel the soaking sticky wetness in his pants and the bottom half of his shirt.
At any other time, he would’ve been disgusted with himself.
He moved his hands and rattled the handcuffs in the vain hope that maybe they had broken free in the fall. But they were still attached to the back of the chair, still pinned behind him, both hands cold and numb.
He shook his feet and found they were still b
ound too, although he could really only feel his left foot. He hoped his right foot was only numb from the lack of circulation and nothing more serious. A broken ankle or leg was the last thing he needed right now.
His stomach growled loudly in the silence and he realised he hadn’t eaten anything since last night.
Last night?
He wasn’t even sure what day it was now.
Is it still Sunday night? Or Monday morning? Or later?
He looked around but could see nothing. The night was so dark that he could make out no shapes or shadows in the church.
For all he knew, he was facing a wall or the kitchenette bench. He had no way of telling.
How long have I been out?
He didn’t know.
What time is it? I could have been out for hours!
There was nothing he could do about it anyway.
Except wait, he thought to himself. Wait. Wait wait waitwaitfuckinwait. That’s all I do now. Wait and watch as life slowly goes by me.
He tried to lift his head upwards, but the weight pressing down on his neck and shoulders wouldn’t allow it. He only succeeded in creating more pain for his shoulder.
I can’t stay like this. Not all night.
Taking a quick breath, he tried to rock his body back and forth, hoping that somehow he might be able to tip himself on his side, or over completely.
Sharp claws of pain shot through his whole body.
He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes hard, willing the pain away. But it was no use. The chair knocked against the floorboards, its thudding loud in the silence of the night. The legs of the chair stopped John from turning over. The chair was bracing him in his current position.
The best he could do was turn his head to the side slightly, resting his ear to the floor and taking some of the pressure off his cheek.
He lay in that position for a long time.
He tried to think of a way out of this mess, but his brain just didn’t seem to be functioning. His thoughts were scrambled, he couldn’t think straight.
It was so dark he didn’t even know whether his eyes were open or not.
Perhaps I’m blind, he thought to himself. Perhaps Fox came to the church while I was unconscious and gouged out my eyes.
John chuckled to himself.
That’s crazy talk, he thought. Hey, the whole fucking situation is crazy!
He had been so close to reaching the phone. So close.
But he’d let his anger get the better of him and he’d dropped his concentration, tried for the big leap, only to ruin the best chance he had of getting out of here.
Love Lies Dying Page 27