Chapter 5 – Ben
Ben ran along the High Street, barging through shoppers, dodging past signs and cars. He turned a corner and burst through the door of the nearest shop. He tried to compose himself, breathing hard.
The shop assistant and her customer, startled by the noise of the door crashing open, stopped what they were doing and stared at him.
They turned back and carried on their business, the lady struggled as she picked up all her bags and left, not taking her eyes off Ben as she walked past him to the door. He looked away so as to not catch her eye.
“Can I help you?” the assistant asked.
Ben had turned and was now staring out of the window.
“Can I help you?” she repeated, a little louder.
Ben continued staring at the busy street outside. “Yes, I’ve come to, um, collect a…” He looked around quickly. “…a prescription,” he spluttered. Realising he didn’t sound very convincing, he turned fully to the assistant. “Sorry, I’m waiting for my wife. She doesn’t know I’ve come in here. I’ve come to collect a prescription for my aunt.”
“Oh right, what’s her name?”
“Sorry?”
“Her name, I’ll need her name to find her glasses.”
Ben panicked. “Oh right, yes, Morton.”
“I’ll just have a look for you.”
Ben could have kicked himself; why had he used his own name? Stupid. That’s how you get caught, he thought.
The assistant went to a room at the back of the shop, appearing nervous to leave Ben on his own with all the stock on display.
When he thought the coast outside was clear, he moved away from the window and towards the counter.
He leant over and looked at the till. “Damn,” he hissed. It was one of those new digital ones, harder to get in to.
He scanned the counter. He saw the usual: sticky tape, calculator, scissors, note pads and then something interesting caught his eye, a parcel, wrapped in brown paper, about twice the size of a shoe box.
He looked back round at the shop entrance. The lady that had just left the shop must have forgotten to take it with her when she’d left. The shop was empty now, apart from him. He could hear the shop assistant shuffling around out back, moving boxes and flicking through paperwork.
He looked round at the designer glasses on the shelves.
How much is this little lot worth? he wondered to himself.
He picked a pair up and tried them on. He looked in the mirror. Checking the price, he whistled and carelessly tossed them to one side. They cost almost what he earned in a month.
The assistant reappeared from the back of the shop. “Morton, you say?’
“What? Oh yes, Morton.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t seem to find them anywhere. I’ll have to check upstairs. It wouldn’t be under a different name, would it?”
“No, no it’s definitely Morton,” he called back as she disappeared again.
Ben’s attention moved back to the parcel on the counter.
It was addressed to someone in France, a Madame someone. Posh, he thought, I bet she could afford these glasses.
He picked the parcel up off the highly waxed surface. He lifted it up to his ear and gave it a little shake. It produced a slight rattle but didn’t give away its contents. He placed it back down. He was intrigued as to what was inside it. He had always been a bit of a chancer. He was tempted to just take it, run out while the assistant was upstairs, but he couldn’t risk going back outside yet, not until he was sure they had gone. He spun round and gazed outside to see if anybody was looking in.
That’s when he saw the police car pull up. He ducked down, crawled across the floor, planting his back up against the wall underneath the window. He pushed himself up, peeping out through the passing traffic and the shoppers outside. He stayed low, looking across the road at the car. His instinct to duck was right.
How had they found him so quickly?
He watched as the policeman inside the car scanned the surrounding shops. He was talking on his walkie-talkie. Then the man’s head snapped and looked straight over, towards Ben.
Ben ducked down as panic set in. He wasn’t sure if the officer outside had seen him or not. If not, it wouldn’t take long to trace Ben to the shop.
He had to move.
Still crouching, he grabbed the parcel and the scissors from the counter then scampered to a doorway at the back of the shop, keeping as low as he could. He reached the doorway just as the assistant came back through empty handed.
“Excuse me, you can’t come back here,” she squealed.
“Is there a back door?” Ben shouted.
“Yes but...”
He stood up, barging past her, knocking her off her feet, then ran down the corridor, past boxes and filing cabinets, and slapped the bar to open the fire escape door.
There was a small walled courtyard, filled with different coloured wheelie bins, an old bucket, a pile of bricks and a rusty bike. A musty smell filled his nostrils. He made his way to the gate, but it was locked. Behind him he heard the shop’s front door bell ring. It would likely be the officer. He had to move fast.
Moving one of the bins closer to the gate, he clambered on top. He got one leg over the gate when he heard the fire escape door clatter open followed by a shout.
“Stop! It’s no good, Ben, you can’t get away.”
Ben launched himself over the gate without looking back, knocking the bin over in the process. He lost his balance and crashed down on to the hard cobbled floor on the other side, the parcel went flying. He started to stand but then collapsed back down as a sharp pain shot down his leg. There was no time to think about that now. Scissors still in hand, he grabbed the parcel and hobbled down the cobbled lane, listening to the police officer trying to kick his way through the gate. The alleyway was overgrown with weeds and brambles. Ben didn’t care – he just wanted to get away.
He pushed his way through, ignoring the pain surging down his leg, not noticing the thistles slashing his clothes and ripping his skin as he did so. He disappeared into a neighbouring alleyway when he heard the locked gate splitting open behind him.
Back in front of the shop on the main road, he crouched behind a car while he gathered his thoughts. Still out of breath, he looked round and spotted a bus a little way down the road. He saw his chance and went for it. He heard the bell of the bus ring when he was about twenty yards away.
He ran as fast as he could as the bus pulled off gaining in speed. He grabbed the handrail and launched himself inside, collapsing on the first available seat. He slouched as low as he could without looking too conspicuous. He reached for his ankle and found that his trouser leg and sock were blooded. He pulled his trouser leg up to reveal a long shard of glass embedded in his skin just above his anklebone. He clenched his teeth and gave it a sharp tug. He grimaced as it came out. He could feel the blood surging. He pulled an old stained hanky from his pocket and shoved it down his sock. It would have to do.
He sat back, catching his breath.
They had been very quick in finding him this time.
He had lost track of how many years he had been evading them. They were getting quicker and he was running out of places to hide. He had to go somewhere they wouldn’t find him. Somewhere they wouldn’t be expecting him to go or be linked to.
As a child he had come across an old abandoned hospital in the woods up by the old World War II air base. It had been abandoned a few years after the Americans had disbanded and gone home in the late forties. After that, the government had turned it into a mental asylum but again it had closed down in the early nineties, after an incident that involved an old patient, who had been discharged, turning up and killing twenty-two people including a security guard, patients and staff. How true the rumours were, no one knew but what Ben did know was that no one went there unless they were on a dare, trying to impress their mates or linked with some cult sacrificing some poor animal.
The bus
turned several corners. When he saw the ticket collector coming towards him, he felt the bus slow and darted back toward the doors. Not really realising how fast the bus was going, he stumbled off, skidding to a halt on his hands and knees in the gutter.
He could see the start of the woods across a grassed area a street away. It was risky as there was no cover for about half a mile once he got in the open, but if he could just get to the thick cover of the trees, he would be home free.
He could hear the police sirens in the distance but he was sure they weren’t getting closer. He drew in a deep breath and went for it.
He had got three quarters of the way across the grass when he heard the screech of tyres behind him in the distance and the barking of dogs. He didn’t stop but looked over his shoulder to see three police officers, two with dogs, running up behind him.
The adrenaline kicked in and Ben forgot all about the pain from his ankle as he continued towards the wood. He reached the thick undergrowth and kept going. His chest felt like it would burst as he gasped at the hot humid air. His body wanted to stop, just give up, but the fear in him kept pushing him on. He ran through the woods, dodging tree trunks and jumping over fallen branches.
He was running so fast he didn’t notice a chain link fence and he landed face-first into it, knocking even more air from his chest. His grip loosened and he dropped the parcel. Dazed, he sat till the sound of the dogs, now off their leads, brought him back round. He rose to his feet and turned to gather up the parcel but at that moment, the dogs dived out of the woods towards him. He scrambled up the fence just as they reached him. One of the dogs leapt up, grabbing his leg, tearing through his trousers and into his calf muscle. He kicked out and the dog fell back. Ben flung himself over the top of the fence, landing on the ground inches away from the dog’s snarling jaws on the other side.
He limped to the main entrance doors of the abandoned hospital. They were open, probably from a previous break in. The hinges creaked and groaned as he pushed them fully apart, and he disappeared inside.
He watched from a side window as the police officers got to the fence and put the dogs, still desperate to earn their keep, back on their leads. They all stood in silence, just staring at the old hospital. After a few minutes, Ben saw the men talking to each other, one turned to the other two and shook his head, they turned and walked away. As they did so, one of the officers saw the parcel Ben had dropped on the floor and stooped to pick it up. He looked in to the shadows of the windows, turned and disappeared back into the woods. Ben was sure he saw the officer smirking.
Ben retreated further into the shadows and along a corridor, glass crushing under every step. He had to find another way out in case the police where waiting for him. Graffiti adorned every wall, from hip hop lyrics to witchcraft symbols. What looked like blood was smeared across the walls and floors, and the smell burned the back of his throat and made his eyes sting. He must have been coming here before many others even knew it existed, it was nothing like he remembered it.
He pushed open doors as he made his way down the corridor. Old ward rooms were scattered with upturned beds, tables and chairs, piles of old mouldy clothes and blankets, rotted paperwork, weeds coming up through the tiles in the floor and vines creeping in through broken window panes. It had being shut down in a hurry and most of the items inside had been abandoned.
He turned the corner at the end of the corridor. It was darker down there, no natural light. At the end of the corridor though, was a room. The door was ajar, showing a pale blue light inside. Ben made his way towards it and pushed open the door. He stood speechless looking at the sight in front of him. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
A frail voice rang out.
“Welcome back, Ben. I’ve been waiting for you.”
***
The Parcel Page 5