Hide and Seek (6 page)

CHAPTER 12

14:54pm

Peter had walked directly into the living room of the apartment.
And there, silhouetted in front of the main window, was a man strapped into a chair facing the window with his back to Peter. The chair was stood on top of a rectangular black metallic box, which stood about three feet high. The legs of the chair were wedged into grooves running along the top of the contraption like railway tracks, which ran directly towards the window. A large rubber belt was stretched around the back of the chair, hooked to the walls on either side of the window.

As Peter approached the contraption from the right-hand side he could see a thick metal bar standing vertically from the middle of the block. The bar was positioned tightly against the chair between the legs of Colin Clark.
The contraption looked like a crude oversized catapult.

On
the window itself, a large X had been scored in the glass. Peter had seen enough crime television series to know that this was done to make glass easier to smash.

‘Jesus Christ,’ he gasped.

Colin could hear him approaching and started shouting in panic, although it was muffled by a black cloth tied around his mouth. He was strapped down like a death row prisoner in the electric chair waiting for the switch to be thrown. Peter could see the heavily bandaged stump where Colin’s left arm had been cut off at the elbow joint. There was another strap around Colin’s forehead securing it against the head of the chair. His panic-stricken eyes were bulging, struggling to look to his right to see who was stood beside him, and then he recognised him. Peter could hear him saying his name even though it was muffled by the gag in his mouth.

‘It’s alright Colin, I’m here,’ said Peter.

He ducked his head under the thick rubber belt to move closer so he could work on the straps holding Colin to the chair. Peter managed to free his right arm and Colin immediately pulled the cloth from his mouth.

‘What the fuck is going on?’ Colin screamed as Peter started to work on the buckle strapped to Colin’s right leg.

‘I don’t know. Someone’s playing some kind of sick game. Do you remember how you got here?’

‘No. I think I was drugged. I just woke up like this. My fucking arm
’s been cut off Peter!’

‘I know. The sick bastard left it in your house to convince me this game was real.’

‘What sick bastard? What game?’ Colin shouted as Peter managed to free his right leg.

He started to work on the strap around Colin’s chest as Colin fumbled with one hand at
the strap around his forehead.

‘I don’t know
, but he’s taken the others as well. He says me and him are playing Hide and Seek.’

‘What?’

Colin paused for a few moments trying to take in what Peter was telling him.

‘Have you called the police? Michelle’s dad?’

‘No,’ was Peter’s terse response.

He was struggling with the buckle on the strap around Colin’s chest. It was bound so tightly he couldn’t free enough space to release the prong from the hole of the belt.

‘Why not?’ Colin shouted as he freed his head.

He started to work on the strap around his left shoulder.

The block started to emit an unsettling buzzing noise.

‘What
’s that?’ Colin said.

‘I don’t know.
But we have to hurry,’ Peter replied, now struggling more frantically with the strap around Colin’s chest.

‘Breathe in,’ he shouted at Colin.

The buzzing grew louder and louder.

‘
Hurry.’

Peter strained as the prong finally snapped out of the hole and the strap unravelled. He rushed around to Colin’s left
-hand side, ducking again under the rubber belt, and started to work on the strap around Colin’s left leg.

Colin desperately shouted, ‘come on’ as he yanked at the buckle around his shoulder.

The noise from the block became a high pitched whine.

And then
– as unexpectedly as it had begun - the noise stopped. Peter and Colin froze, looking at each other.

Colin s
tarted to speak, ‘what the....’

In one swift movement the thick metal bar
in the middle of the block snapped down, away from the chair. With no resistance against the rubber belt it pushed the chair forward … down the tracks towards the window. Peter grabbed onto Colin’s left leg and was dragged forward as Colin and the chair slammed into the window and went through the glass. Peter managed to get half of his body against the wall and window frame. His right hand gripped Colin’s ankle as he started to fall head first from the 10
th
floor. Peter cried out in pain as his arm stretched and jolted stopping Colin upside down in midair. Colin swung back against the outside wall, holding his hand out to stop his face hitting it. Colin watched as the waterfall of glass bounced off the concrete ground ninety feet below him. He screamed in terror. The weight of the chair hanging upside down started to slip over Colin’s torso. The strap around his shoulder slid down his arm and came loose over the stump of his dismembered arm. The slightly loosened strap on his left leg started to unravel itself.

Peter could feel that he was being pulled out of the window by the weight. He struggled to stay inside the apartment, his left hand gripp
ing the wall and his toes pressed against the skirting boards. The tendons in his neck pulsed as he strained to pull Colin up. The chair loosened and fell away from Colin. It plummeted to the ground below and shattered on impact in a noisy echo of broken wood, which rattled and bounced off in multiple directions. Colin let out another scream.

Peter was struggling to hold on. The upper half of his body was almost completely out of the window. The rubber belt, now straight across the window, was pressing against his back. He could feel his left hand losing its clawed grip on the wall. His right hand had almost lost its grip on Colin’s left leg and he was mainly holding onto the cuffs of his jeans. Peter grunted between gritted teeth as he mustered all his strength to pull Colin
back to safety. But the weight was too great. He lost his grip and was left holding nothing. He grasped at thin air and then watched as Colin fell with a piercing scream - suddenly silenced as his body slammed into the ground. Peter was leaning out of the window, his eyes bulging; his hand still outstretched trying to reach for Colin.

Peter pulled himself up slowly and withdrew inside the apartment. He turned with his back against the wall and slid down it to slump on the floor with his head in his hands. He heard the scream of a woman outside; a resident perhaps who had heard the commotion and looked out to see Colin’s mangled body.

He sat there
in a timeless trance, his head whirling with shock. The sound of police sirens in the distance woke him and he stood up and looked out of the window. Across the town, through the grey sky, he could see the unmistakeable blue flashing lights making their way from the police station at the bottom of the high street. They’d be here in a few minutes. Peter looked down to see a group of people gathered about halfway between Colin’s body and the entrance to the flats. A few of them were looking up and pointed accusatory fingers directly at Peter. He instinctively backed away from the window. The William Tell tune began to play as the mobile phone vibrated in his jacket pocket. He knew it would be Celo, probably ringing to gloat, and he could feel anger start to build up inside him. The caller ID displayed ‘Peter Stevenson calling’ again and he answered the phone.

CHAPTER 13

15:05pm

‘You fucking sick bastard. How could you do this?’

Peter was half expecting Celo to taunt him but beneath the metallic distorted voice he could almost hear an ounce of sympathy.

‘Peter, you were
so
close. I almost wish you had saved him. He could be a bit of an idiot sometimes but I did like him.’

Peter shouted back.

‘Then why? Why did you do this?’

‘All will be revealed in due course. But remember Peter that although Colin is dead you still have the opportunity to save the others. You have to carry on with the game.’

The faces of Laura, Cas, Michelle, Cheryl and Steve flashed through his mind. Although it pained him to admit it he had to carry on with this twisted game.

Celo continued. ‘You have to get out of the building now Peter. The police will be here soon. And when they find that a police officer has been killed they’re going to be
gunning for you.’

Peter felt angry
at the suggestion that this was his fault.

‘You were the one that put me in this situation. You chose Colin to be first.’

‘I know you’re upset Peter. I know you’re angry with me. You can grieve for Colin later, but you have to get out of the building
now
, before the police arrive. If they catch you, you’ll not be able to save the others. Think of the others you can save.’

The phone clicked as Celo hung up.

The sounds of the sirens were creeping closer, drawing Peter’s attention to the broken window again.

‘I’m so sorry Colin,’ he muttered under his breath as he left the room.

He ran up the corridor and frantically started pressing the buttons for the lifts. The digital displays above showed that one was on the 1
st
floor and the other was on the 2
nd
floor. He stood there for a few moments but the display didn’t change. He decided to abandon the lifts and ran for the door leading to the stairwell. He ran down the stairs, jumping down the last half of each flight, like they had done as children. Each jolt as he landed shuddered up through his body, sending a sickening ache through his stomach. He reached the ground floor and ran through the doorway towards the entrance to the flats. He stopped dead in his tracks, with his hand on the door handle, as he saw the crowd of people gathered just outside. A few turned and looked at him, eying him suspiciously. A woman pointed a finger at him and a heavily built man with a shaved head started to walk towards the door, looking directly at Peter. Peter turned and saw a fire exit at the end of the corridor. He started to run down the corridor and as he approached the fire exit he heard a shout.

‘Hey, you
! Stop.’

Peter looked behind
to see that the man had come through the doorway and was running towards him. Peter pressed the security bar inwards and pushed open the fire exit; there was surprising resistance, no doubt it hadn’t been opened in years. He ran out behind the back of the flats and quickly surveyed his surroundings. The only escape route was the spiral driveway at the front of the flats … unless he climbed up the wall surrounding the grounds. He ran towards the eight-foot brick wall. He jumped and grabbed the top but his body slammed against the hard surface, winding him and he fell down. The shout came out again.

‘Hey, you.’

Peter turned; the shaven headed man had just come out of the fire escape. Around to the side of the building, some people had come from the front entrance to observe the commotion; a second man started running towards him. He back tracked a few steps and jumped again, straining as he dragged himself up the wall. He clambered up the steep grassy incline on all fours until he reached the top. Without looking back he vaulted the small fence, landing in a field and started to run. On the borders of the field ahead and to the left of him was the Glebe estate; to his right was a stone brick wall surrounding the cemetery at the back of Bilton church.

Peter
headed for the wall figuring he could hide in the grounds of the cemetery if he was being followed. A variety of trees and bushes were dotted around the perimeter. There were sufficient breaks in the foliage for him to find a safe passage through and he climbed the wall into the church grounds. He ducked behind the wall and - under cover of a bush - he peered over towards the back of the flats. There was no sign of his pursuers and Peter breathed a sigh of relief. Then he saw a pair of hands gripping the fence and a man emerged over the fence onto the field. There was no sign of the large shaven-headed man and Peter assumed that he’d been unable to climb the wall or the steep grass verge. This man was tall, slender and, again, had close-cropped hair; the type of guy you wouldn’t quarrel with, not overbuilt but obviously strong. He swept the horizon, his gaze falling on the church.

The man started to come towards the wall and Peter sank back down in panic. He started to move away from the wall, crouching over as the wall was not high enough for him to run upright. He frantically looked around the grounds for a place to hide. He paused for a second, looking over to the far side of the grounds, recognising the very spot where seven of the Excellent Eight had been gathered for the funeral of Gavin Blair, around 24 hours ago.
Now there were six.

He didn’t have time to
dwell on it; the man would be at the wall soon and would easily spot him scuttling around trying to hide. Peter saw a small break in the wall ahead of him which he thought he might be able to squeeze through to hide on the outside of the wall which surrounded the west side of the church. He scurried over to the gap and squeezed his body through and crouched down.

He was on a small dusty path
that followed the wall and then curled off in the opposite direction into an alley. He remembered that the alley separated a row of houses that lay on Plumer Drive ahead of the turnoff he had taken into the cul-de-sac to get to the flats. Peter heard the scraping of rock as the man chasing him climbed into the grounds. Peter pressed his body against the wall and stayed quiet, his heart thumping in his chest as he heard the various rustlings of the man searching the cemetery. The noises grew louder as the man approached his hiding spot. Peter’s entire body tensed as he heard the branches of a tree, directly behind the wall where he sat, being brushed aside. Peter clenched his fists waiting to fight back if the man should find him.