Chapter 52
Polly
Polly sits alone in the bus, straining to hear the conversation taking place outside. George, Reubyn and Jessie went out to examine the engine and battery, to see if there’s any way they can get the vehicle running. She’s frustrated to be stuck in here, not knowing what’s going on, but trying to hobble anywhere is painful. Her hopes are low, and although she can’t hear what’s being said outside, the tones of the voices have sounded anything but triumphant.
A few minutes ago, the door opened and Reubyn clambered in. He sat in the driver’s seat, looking high and low for some switch or other, and then, after ferreting around for a bit, he made a noise that suggested some kind of achievement – the first positive noise she has heard in about twelve hours. He hopped back out before she had a chance to quiz him.
She should’ve told Reubyn to unlock a window. Their voices were just about audible, but too muffled for her to make out the words. She listened to them a little longer and then she heard footsteps. All three of them – George, Reubyn and Jessie – walked past her window, along the side of the bus and disappeared from sight. Now she can barely hear a thing. Where have they gone? Polly’s thoughts begin to race,and hand a baton to her heart, which in turn picks up speed. They wouldn’t leave her here on her own, would they? Not after everything that’s happened.
Polly imagines what she would do if some assailant turned up and found her here alone. She’d be completely defenceless. In normal circumstances, pretty much her only option would be to scream and run from an attacker. But right now, she can barely even walk.
For maybe ten minutes she sits, craning her head to peer out of the windows. Straining to hear voices. She takes deep breaths.You’re overreacting.They’ll be back soon. But Polly’s attempts to self-soothe aren’t working. Not when the image of Elis’s lifeless body keeps forming in her mind. Not when that artificial Caira voice increases in volume inside her head. The longer she’s here alone, the more her panic ramps up. She pictures her brother, walking helplessly through the forest.This is not over. This is not over. This is not over.
A shrill sound stops her heart. She turns her head towards the kitchen.Deet-deet-deet-deet-deet.It’s an alarm. She looks at the table, which is bare apart from a couple of half-drunk bottles of water. The digital alarm clock is no longer there. Someone has packed it away in the kitchen, she assumes, and now the bloody thing is going off. She waits for it to exhaust itself, to stop bleeping. But it’s incessant. Worse, it’s compounding her panic. It’s as if someone has picked the world’s most appropriate sound to accompany her anxiety: this relentless, high-pitched alarm. It’s an infuriatingly perfect soundtrack to her current mental state. The sound warps in her mind, morphing into a famous piece of music from a famous horror movie. She can’t remember its title – she’s hasn’t actually seen the film; it’s ancient – but that shower scene is iconic. It’s everywhere. The beeps of the alarm become synchronous with her memory of the music, the awful staccato violin screeches. The sound that was deemed the mostapt sonic accompaniment to the sight of a young, defenceless woman being set upon by a knife-wielding ...Psycho, that’s it.Deet-deet-deet-deet-deet.
She can’t bear it any longer. Polly hauls herself on to one foot and hops towards the kitchen. The bleeping is loud here. Polly slides open the top drawer and finds it crammed with cutlery. She tries the second one down and sees it’s empty. She opens the third drawer, and the sound of the beeping intensifies. The digital alarm clock is in there. Lying on top of it is a small piece of paper, folded in half. Polly picks up the paper and it trembles in her hand gently, then more violently as she reads downward. Her stomach twists as the words on the page register. Then, she drops the paper and starts banging on the window with all her strength – not caring if she breaks the glass with her fist – and screams: a desperate wail for help.
Chapter 53
Miles
Miles stares at it in amazement: the kakapo. For a moment, the sight of the bird is so miraculous and exotic that it strips away all thoughts of anything else. It’s bigger and rounder than he imagined from Reubyn’s description. The kakapo is vibrantly feathered, with bright shades of lime and yellow, and flecked with black. It has a curious beak: wide and hooked into a downward point. Miles almost doesn’t dare to breathe, for fear of frightening it away, but it seems completely unalarmed. It’s a puzzling sight, the bird’s calmness. But then Miles remembers what Reubyn told him about this species.They don’t recognise their predators. The bird turns its head to look at him, and barely reacts, just continues on its haphazard path, lumbering heavily from foot to foot, doddery and oblivious to danger.
‘Do you see it?’ he whispers to Faith, without taking his eyes off the bird. She doesn’t respond; presumably, she hasn’t heard him or is as transfixed as he is – stunned into silence.
He’d like to take a photo or video, but his phone is dead. ‘Faith,’ he says, a little louder, his eyes still fixed on the kakapo. ‘Can you get a video?’
Still, she says nothing. The kakapo pecks at something on the ground, then carries on, unperturbed, in its curious and clumsy motion.
There’s a clicking noise behind him, metal on metal.
‘Faith,’ Miles says, turning to face her, ‘can you take a—’
The sight of her shocks him into silence. His next instinct, a split second later, is to laugh. But his laugh only half emerges. Because he’s realised: this isn’t a joke. The blood freezes in his veins.
The look of anger and determination on Faith’s face isn’t for show. It’s real. And so, he suspects, is the gun she’s pointing at him.
Chapter 54
Reubyn
Reubyn looks nervously around, to make absolutely sure there’s no one lurking nearby. For the second time, he stoops to check under the bus. George is fiddling with the starter battery, but there’s no way he’ll be able to fix it. Jessie looks as she has for hours: dazed and frightened. Reubyn can’t blame her for that; she has every right to be scared. Reubyn is scared, too. He’s also sick with remorse. This is all his fault. Why did he bring them out here? If anyone else gets hurt while they’re stuck in this forest, it’ll be on him. And he’s powerless to help. He’ll just have to hope that Miles and Faith are safely making their way out of here. With any luck, they’ll soon raise the alarm. With any luck, the air will soon fill with the wailing of sirens as the emergency services arrive to deal with this mess.
His train of thought is broken by a noise coming from inside the van. The sound of muffled shouting. It’s quickly combined by a fist banging against the window. Reubyn, George and Jessie glance at each other, then dart around to the door of the bus.
George gets to the door first. ‘Polly!’ he shouts. ‘Are you all right?’
Reubyn finds Polly sitting on the bench, her face contorted in shock and a slip of paper trembling in her outstretched hand.
George grabs it, and as he stares at it, his face buckles. ‘Oh no.’
‘What is it?’ Reubyn asks.
George hands him the sheet. ‘Here, see for yourself.’
Reubyn takes the piece of paper and holds it so he and Jessie can see. It’s a note, written neatly in blue biro. Reubyn’s pulse quickens as he reads.
To Reubyn, Jessie, Polly and George.
