“How will we know where we're going?” she asked Sophia.
Sophia was still walking quickly. She slowed down, fumbling in her pockets for the phone, finally locating it in the inside pocket of her blazer. She wondered if the owner had noticed it was gone.
“What are you doing?” Harlow asked.
“Calling 999,” came the breathless reply.
They crept forward swiftly, silently. Sophia's breathing was heavy, ragged from fear and exhaustion. Her whole body was tensed, ready to run at any movement that seemed threatening. Her ears pricked up like a fox’s, finely attuned to detect any odd sound. The ringing of the phone seemed obnoxiously loud, as did the operator's voice and her own, though she was whispering rapidly.
“999. What is your emergency?”
“I need the police.”
“I've been—we've been—someone kidnapped me, but I escaped with my friend. I don't know where I am and they're coming.” She explained breathlessly.
“Ok, ma'am, can you describe your location?”
“We're in the woods,” she whispered, looking around uneasily. The darkness was moving in slowly all around her. The shadows, the trees, were all thicker, more sinister. The bird song lulling. Something scurried across the ground in front of her and she gasped, making Harlow jump, standing still for the first time in an hour.
“Are you okay?” The operator asked.
“Yes, no,” Sophia replied hurriedly. “Can't you trace my location or something.” She didn't pause for an answer. “I was near some industrial buildings, I don't know if that will help. There are quite a few of them,” she said darkly, “I don't know who they are. It's only a matter of time.”
The operator reassured her, “Ma'am, it's ok. Just keep calm. Help is on the way. Can you describe—” The phone cut off. Sophia stared at it in horror.
“Battery’s dead,” she said to Harlow, wanting to hurl it at the nearest tree. Harlow grabbed the phone, whispering, “No, no,” in desperation.” She pressed the power button, desperately, so hard she thought it would recede inwards and never come out. “Damn it!” Harlow jogged forwards, pushing the lifeless phone into her pocket. Sophia followed behind her hopelessly as they made their way through the forest.
After some time, Harlow heard the sound of machinery in the distance and hesitated, wondering whether to turn back. It was dark now. She could see the lights through the thicket of trees, lights flashing past, one ray after another, in a steady stream, and realised they were headlights. “A road,” Harlow whispered with renewed hope.
“Sssssh,” Sophia said, motioning to Harlow. Behind them came the sound of something heavy trampling through the woods toward them fast. Harlow, frightened, ran forwards without thinking and slipped, losing her footing. She rolled down the shallow leaf-covered slope that led to the road and banged her head on the metal railings. The railings shuddered, bending forwards under the force of Harlow's body and then sprung back against her. The sound of the crash reverberated through the air and she wondered who else had heard it. Sophia slid down the slope toward Harlow and found her already staggering to her feet, slowly. The skin of Harlow's palms had been ripped back by the friction of the fall. She'd used her hands to try to slow her descent, to grip onto something. The wounds were clogged with dirt, blood, and pieces of leaves. She wiped her palms on her skirt, gingerly wincing when the sore, scraped skin touched the blue material.
The cars were passing fast and frequently; she could see at least four lanes of traffic.
“It's a motorway. It must be,” Harlow insisted, hopefully clambering up the metal fence, losing grip and sliding back down again, kicking the railings in frustration. Sophia took a step back and jumped at the fence like a cat, hooking her fingers in between the metal holes a few feet above the ground. She lifted herself upwards with only the strength of her arms. Harlow copied, her feet frequently slipping, flailing, finding nowhere to grip. It was a mighty effort that brought Harlow past Sophia and up to the top of the fence only to find barbed wire rolled across the length of it. She felt herself slipping back down.
Sophia was almost to the top when she heard the crunching of leaves in the forest, turning just in time to see a bright white torchlight pass over her. Harlow reached a hand down toward Sophia, whispering, “Hurry.” Sophia grabbed Harlow's hand, using it to hoist herself upwards. Her midriff was now in line with the spikes of rolled barbed wire. It pressed into her shirt, prodding her flesh menacingly. Harlow slid down the other side of the fence, making it shake gently. The sound of hushed voices came behind Sophia, then more trampling of leaves.
Something heavy fell down the slope and then there was an angry shout of blistering profanities. Torch lights flashed onto the motorway in front of Harlow without hesitation. Sophia threw a leg over the top of the fence, missing the spikes. A hand grabbed her ankle as it hung on the forest side of the fence. Sophia kicked back furiously, trying to free her leg, but the grip only intensified, clutching at her leg, pulling her downwards. The spikes of the barbed wire cut into Sophia's flesh as she was pulled down on the barbed wire; tears of pain filled her eyes. Sophia kicked back furiously, harder, aimlessly, almost falling off the fence, then her foot made contact with something around head height. There was a soft click and the man yelled in agony, dropping the torchlight. Sophia hoisted herself upright again and threw the freed leg over the fence. Her bare leg scraped against the spikes and she grimaced, her fingers gripping the fence as she slid down in one fast controlled slide.
Harlow stood at the bottom of the fence waiting anxiously, in the dark, as Sophia slid down toward her. She saw a man, cupping his nose protectively, curled up in the dirt on the other side of the fence, his large companions running down the slope, torches in hand. A few feet of dirt separated Harlow and Sophia from the busy motorway. Cars streamed past at speed, flashing by like lightning bolts. As soon as Sophia jumped down next to her, they ran down the dirt path near the hard shoulder in the direction of oncoming traffic hoping someone would see them. There was no time to stop now.
Sophia ran unevenly behind Harlow. Looking over her shoulder anxiously, she saw two large men in hot pursuit. She ran faster in a fresh burst of speed. The hard shoulder of the motorway was quickly coming to an end. A few metres ahead, the deserted lane merged back into the main road, releasing a flood of oncoming traffic. Sophia heard the fence rattle as she ran.
Someone leapt in front of them, like a giant spider come down from its web in the sky. She screamed, stopping in her tracks. Harlow grabbed her hand and veered off the hard shoulder, running into the main road. A car sped off, leaving them with a gap in the traffic. They ran through it to the next lane. Just as they got there, an old brown Volvo veered out of the way, trying to avoid them. It crashed into the oncoming traffic from the opposite lanes leading to a chorus of honks and beeps, angry shouts and cursing. It was pandemonium. They stood in between the two lanes. Cars rushed by in a dizzying whirl of metal, white lights, and loud honks, passing them on both sides. Finally they got their chance. The traffic thinned out and they raced across the first lane, watching an approaching black car that was still far in the distance. Harlow took her eyes off of the distant car. The roar of engines filling the air around them, they ran across the second lane and then heard an angry screech of tyres as they reached the last lane.
There was an awful crash. It made Sophia's bones vibrate. Her leg still halfway in the lane was just a few feet away from a white Mercedes that had been struck by another car, spinning it completely around. It was now completely blocking the flow of traffic, straddling the entire lane. The bumper of a baby blue Mini had dug into the back of the white Mercedes. The Mini's windscreen was smashed. The driver slumped forward in the seat. The woman in the Mercedes staggered out of the car.
Harlow and Sophia ran up the dirt path, clambering over a small green fence. When Sophia reached the other side of the fence, her legs were aching.
Sophia and Harlow found themselves in a field full of
gold corn that reached chest height. The moon was out in its full glory, beaming down on the crops and the farmhouse ahead. Sophia hesitated, looking back and forwards between the field and the road.
“The driver?” Harlow asked, reading Sophia's eyes.
“We have bigger problems,” Sophia reminded herself, recalling the terror of the chase that had led them into the road and the Mini's smashed windscreen, the driver's head laying lifelessly upon it.
The Walkie Talkie crackled to life. The sounds of muffled conversation escaped from Harlow's blazer pocket as they waded through the wheat field. Stumbling over a rock, Harlow reached into her pocket to turn the Walkie Talkie down and then held it to her ear. She listened carefully, but couldn't make out a word. The rapid flow of voices bounced off her ears like a splash of water until one word sunk in. They're speaking Spanish, Harlow realised, her run reduced to a jog, then stopping in the middle of the field. Sophia slowed down and joined Harlow. Harlow felt she would almost keel over from exhaustion. Her breaths came out in short, haggard, desperate intakes as she struggled with the unfamiliar pain of exercise.
Looking around her wearily, she could only see tall stalks of corn all around swaying in the breeze, with the sound of cars in the distance. Harlow fought the urge to just collapse, sit on the ground, and rest. “What are they saying?” she asked Sophia, still listening to the faint chatter on the Walkie Talkie. She handed it over.
Sophia took it, pulling at Harlow's arm impatiently, “Come on!” she said before running off.
Harlow took her hands off of her knees and began to jog again, following Sophia. She saw a house with all its lights off except in one room. They rushed at it, flying through the thicket of corn stalks.
“They're spreading out,” Sophia said breathlessly, “Victor's here.” Sophia tripped on a rock and found herself face down in the dirt, arms struggling to get up. She pushed herself into a sitting position and winced at the searing pain of the lacerations that covered her upper thigh and stomach. A trickle of blood poured from a cut on her lip. Sophia swiped at the blood with her blazer sleeve, making her lower lip throb. When Sophia got up again she left the smashed Walkie Talkie on the ground, in the dirt, where it had fallen. After a brisk and painful walk, Sophia followed Harlow to the farmhouse and watched as Harlow knocked at the door. No one answered. Harlow hammered on the door again. Sophia moved around to the window, pressing her face against the window pane, cupping her hands to get a better look inside.
The room was bright. A lone sofa stood against the wall with a wide-screen TV opposite it. The room was empty. The front door clicked open.
“Hello,” came the irritated voice. Sophia whipped around in surprise.
“Please help us,” Harlow cried, trying to contain the panic and relief in her voice as Sophia moved toward the door.
The man winced at the sight of Sophia. “Are you okay?”
“Please, you have to help us,” Harlow begged.
“Herb, who is it?” A woman shouted from inside the house.
Sophia could see behind the man there was a well-lit kitchen and another door in the hallway. A tall woman emerged from the room.
“Come in,” Herb ushered them in.
The lady was in her late fifties. She surveyed them with bewilderment, “Oh dear! What happened?”
“We need to call the police,” Sophia said. Her lip ached as she spoke and she held it protectively to quell the pain.
“There are some people after us,” Harlow explained. “I don't know why.” It all came out in a jumbled rush of words. The woman's hands were already on the grey cordless phone before she'd finished. She followed them into the sitting room. Instead of sitting down as the others had done, Sophia said, “Turn off the lights. They'll know.”
Herb didn't seem to understand and, ignoring Sophia, he said, “Don't worry, dear, you're okay now. Sit down.” Herb gestured for Sophia to sit and she crumpled into the sofa as if all her bones had been removed. The woman rapidly gave their address to the emergency services operator over the telephone. Suddenly a great tide of weariness rushed over Sophia, a tide that she had fought all the way through the field.
A faint cry of sirens rung somewhere in the distance, floating to Sophia's ears. The woman, Angela, was holding one of Harlow's hands in hers, saying intermittently, “It's okay. You're all right now,” and talking in whispers to her husband about something Sophia couldn't hear. Sophia looked around, nervously tapping her foot in time to the mysterious rhythm in her head. She watched Herb jump up all of a sudden, as if somebody had bitten him. He gave his wife a meaningful look and then left the room. Sophia felt that something was not right, feeling ill at ease. The phone rang. It had been placed face down on the coffee table. Angela looked at it from the corners of her eyes, then looked back at Harlow again. It rang and she didn't answer. Suddenly, there was silence. Sophia's back stiffened in suspicion. The phone began to ring again she watched wearily as Angela picked it up quickly.
“Hello, yes, yes. That's right. It's here anyway.”
The conversation seemed stunted to Harlow and she wondered who it could be. “Yes,” Angela laughed, “Quite a bit of luck isn't it? Ok, will do.” Herb walked in with a tray loaded with three mugs of tea and three small plates laden with biscuits. He set it down just as Angela placed the phone back on the coffee table. There was a horrendous bang at the doors, which made Harlow shiver with fear. Sophia jumped up and followed Herb to the door, her heart thundering in her chest.
Herb opened the door without hesitation, as all good men do in times of peace. The door creaked open slowly and Sophia realised it was the police.
The door was kicked back with such force that Herb was shoved violently into the wall. Sophia realised her mistake and ran back toward the sitting room. A piercing scream ripped through the air. The man who had grabbed onto her foot at the fence flew into the house like an angry bird of prey clutching a pole; his two associates flocked in behind him, forming a V-shape as they entered.
“What's going on?” Angela asked, rushing into the hallway with Harlow behind her, blocking Sophia's escape route. The vulture-like man pointed his gun at Herb. There was loud bang and the old farmer crumpled to the floor like an emptied sack. Sophia struggled to break free, held fast by the overbearing strength of her assailant.
“No!” his wife shouted hysterically, rushing toward his stricken body and kneeling over him. The man swung the pole down on her unsuspecting head. There was a thud. She fell to the floor with such swiftness that Harlow knew she was dead. Harlow rushed forward, throwing the heavy grey cordless phone at the man's head. It flashed past his ear, hitting the door behind him with an almighty crash as it fell to pieces. When he moved his head in surprise, he momentarily loosened his grip on Sophia and she broke free, running past Harlow, grabbing her wrist as she ran to the back of the house. The vulture-like man grabbed the back of Harlow's blazer. Her fingers slipped out of Sophia’s as she was pulled backwards. Harlow swung at the man, pulling the gun from him. He tried to wrench it back from her and they struggled. Another tried to pull Harlow away. A single shot rung out. Harlow gasped in pain, looking down in shock. She sank to the floor trying to hold her stomach. Her head lay on the ground. She blinked in confusion. Heavy feet trampled past her in a rush toward the back of the house. Her hands were a bloody mess; her stomach searing in pain, as the room darkened.
Chapter 14 – Good Girls and Ghosts
Two hours later.
Christian moved away from the hospital room door. He had been leaning with his back against it, surreptitiously studying a magazine he'd found on a counter. From time to time, he would turn his ear to the door, and in that way would catch floating blobs of the conversation. When he saw the policemen turning to leave the room, he moved away stealthily and sat down in a chair a few feet away. He read until they passed. His phone rang as he rose to check on her. “Number unknown.”
“Hello,” he answered casually.
“Ola,” came the
reply, then in rapid Spanish, “Christian, it's me. I need to see you.”
“Alejandro?” Christian shouted, then looked around the hallway suspiciously as the surprised nurses and doctors turned around. A nurse headed toward him. He whispered conspiratorially, ¿Qué pasa? (What’s up?) Where are you?”
“Excuse me, sir. Sir,” the nurse interrupted, “No mobile phones in the hospital, please,” she said expectantly.
Christian frowned at his phone, thinking of what to do. His cousin was speaking so quickly that he couldn't keep up. He smiled apologetically at the nurse. “Sorry,” he said, heading toward the exit. In the fresh air, he felt first elation, then confusion at what he heard.
“Hey,” Christian said as he collected Alejandro from the foyer, gripping his cousin in a bear hug, tears burned his eyes. “What happened? How did you do it?” Christian asked in Spanish.
“This isn't the time,” Alex replied, releasing his little cousin with a pat on the back. At Christian's hurt look, he said, “It's a long story. I need your help.”
Christian felt that familiar tension around his neck. “Sophia,” he guessed.
Alejandro laughed, “Am I that predictable?”
“I know you love her,” Christian replied sadly.
Alejandro shrugged, “It's not that.”
Christian winced in surprise.
“How is she?”
“Okay,” Christian replied, “She had some cuts on her leg and stomach, but she's okay. She's on bed rest.”
“I need to see her,” Alejandro explained. “She has something of mine.”
“So?” Christian was confused. “Now?”
“Yes, now,” Alejandro replied.
“Can it wait? Harlow is still missing. Sophia has been in with the police since she was admitted. She's the only one who might be able to find Harlow. Let her rest.”
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