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Hayden’s eyebrows arched. ‘What? Not any?’
‘Does caffeine count?’ I forced a smile onto my face.
‘No way?’ He eyed me with total disbelief. Even the other band members stopped mid inhale to stare at me. Prize freak time again. ‘You’re missing out,’ he said finally, accompanying it with a shrug.
Thinking back to the look of rapture on Pete’s face, I realised that Hayden probably had a point.
‘You go right ahead, though, before you twitch, or sneeze or something.’
Hayden nodded, then inserted the makeshift straw partway up his nose and, whoosh, half of the dust was gone. He made it look so easy.
‘I feel like a right shit leaving you out, Lena. Here—’ he tried handing me the straw again ‘—you have the rest.’
If I’d said I wasn’t even slightly tempted, it would be an outright lie. What if I liked it, though—really liked it? I’d be on a very slippery slope indeed.
‘No, you’re all right, Hayden,’ I said. ‘I think I will join Pete up front, after all.’
‘Why?’
‘Just to give you more space like Pete said. And, you know, to not put you off.’
‘Fuck. You’re freaking out, aren’t you?’ Hayden said. ‘Look at you, gnawing on your lip.’
Bugger, I hadn’t even noticed I was doing it. ‘Of course I’m not freaking out.’
‘Bullshit. I honestly thought it might just be an act for college but you really are Miss Goody Two Shoes, aren’t you?’
Gee, thanks, Hayden.
‘So what if I am?’
‘It’s just so … boring. Don’t you think?’
I couldn’t even bring myself to reply. Instead, I sighed and mentally scribbled over his name from the shortlist in thick, black, permanent marker pen as he snorted up the last of the line. Impossible as it seemed after his earlier sleaze-factor, he’d sunk even lower in my estimation. Saved from having to come up with a polite decline, I got to my feet and clambered over his and Max’s legs, thankful I’d worn trousers—not that anybody was paying attention to me, anyway—and I reached the doors easily enough, but they wouldn’t budge.
‘Mind yourself.’ Pete’s voice in my ear made me jump to the side, narrowly missing Max’s fingers.
Pete turned side on, his back to me, then bumped his hip against the door at the same time as he pushed. On the second go, the door swung open and let in a surge of deliciously fresh air. Inhaling sharply, I filled my lungs, then stepped out onto the concrete to make my way to the front door. I flopped into the passenger seat, or rather my end of the bench, and tugged sharply on the wide ribbon to make sure the locking mechanism worked before I clipped myself in.
Funnily enough, it didn’t make me feel any better.
The sounds of tapping and then snorting from the back didn’t help, either.
Pete took his seat behind the wheel and fired up the engine. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator and bumped up and over the kerb to the protests from the back. I clung onto the door handle with both hands as he then pulled out onto the road without even looking, driving way too fast. Never in my life had I wanted to break the law so badly. Why hadn’t I lied and got us the hell out of there? I stood just as good a chance as Pete of getting us all home safely, probably better, even without a licence.
‘Um … you might want to put the headlights on, Pete.’
‘Oh, yeah. Cheers.’
We lurched so fast around one bend, the snare drum landed with a crash. Instead of slowing down, as any sane guy would, Pete seemed to accept it as a challenge and took the next bend even faster. I jammed my eyes closed but that only seemed to make my other senses stronger, so I knew the exact moment two of the wheels left the road.
I’m going to die.
My eyelids flew open on instinct and the world was on a peculiar, terrifying angle. I didn’t dare breathe out, my lips clamped shut, just in case it made all the difference between rolling the van onto its side and down the bank, and getting all four wheels back on the ground. Finally, we tipped the right way, landing with a thump. I yelped, winded by the force of the impact, but Pete just laughed, and gunned the accelerator even harder.
Enough.
‘Stop!’
‘Huh?’ Pete took his eyes off the road and looked at me. Talk about wired, it was a wonder he hadn’t killed the lot of us already.
‘Stop the van, I want to get out.’ My voice caught in my throat and my eyes implored him to slow down. ‘Please …’
‘It’s fine …’ Pete took one hand off the wheel and stopped looking at the road altogether. I bit back a whimper and tightened my grip on the handle. Pete fumbled around for something, I didn’t know what, unable to tear my gaze off the road whizzing by. Half of a rollup cigarette appeared in front of my nose, the smell telling me there was more than tobacco in there. ‘Here, get a light on this and have a few drags. It’ll help you relax.’
‘Like hell it will.’ I slapped his hand away. Manners weren’t working, time to try a different approach. ‘I said stop the van, Pete. I want to get out. Now.’
‘Fine.’ He slammed on the brakes and brought us to a screeching halt.
I didn’t even have time to react, let alone get into a brace position, but the seatbelt did its job. For a nanosecond, I hadn’t been sure and visions of flying through the windscreen were all too vivid. Curses fired at Pete from the rear as equipment crashed and rolled around the floor. I almost felt sorry for the stoned idiots in the back. Not enough to make me stick around, though. All fingers and thumbs, I fought with the seatbelt, struggling to get free.
Pete banged his knuckles against the metal divide and shouted, ‘Hayden, your lady is leaving. Are you staying or going?’
‘He’s staying,’ I muttered, before Hayden had a chance to answer. The seatbelt finally released me and I wrenched on the handle to open the door. Ignoring the step, I leaped straight down on the road.
Freedom.
Pete revved the engine and made the wheels spin, presumably trying to goad me, but I refused to make eye contact. I turned back just long enough to slam the door shut on the heap of junk, then ran to the side of the road. He peeled away, earning more disgruntled shouts. From the sanctuary of the grass verge, I watched the red tail lights race around the next bend before disappearing, leaving only silence and blackness in its wake.
Pitched into total darkness, I had to wait for my eyes to adjust. I turned in a circle, my chest tightening with each breath. Nothing was familiar. There were no landmarks, no signposts, not one thing to give me a clue to my location. I was stuck in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but a dead phone.
Omigod, what have I done?
Chapter Four
CHASE
Giving up and sinking to the kerb would have been easy—understandable, given the circumstances—but I forced myself to move, to put one foot in front of the other, and followed the road in the direction the van had taken. The silence wasn’t so silent after all. Leaves rustled in the trees overhead, nocturnal creatures scurried in the undergrowth, and I kept hearing a weird squeaking sound, which turned out to be bats flying above me in the starless sky.
Time didn’t mean anything to me—without my phone, I was useless—so I counted paces instead. I didn’t know how true it was, but I’d once read a thing about the Roman Empire and how the army used to count each time the left foot hit the ground. Why it stuck in my mind was anyone’s guess. Since I’d started counting, I’d walked over four thousand steps, so, going by Roman army theory, I’d already walked over two miles. An orange haze glowed some way ahead, spurring me on, and, after a further fifteen hundred steps, the sounds of nature slowly faded away, replaced by faint traffic sounds.
Another two thousand steps—another mile—and I came to a junction but with no road signs to guide me. The new road had street lamps at least, which had to mean civilisation—eventually—but which way to turn? Left or right? I stood on the corner of the junction and I stared in each direction, finally convincing myself that the glow seemed stronger coming from the left. Setting off again, I’d walked only another five hundred and twenty-seven steps when I spotted a bus stop glinting in the distance.
Yes!
Unfortunately, it wasn’t like the modern ones I was used to, with the digital board telling you the time and when the next bus was due. There was a timetable on the wall, though. And that meant I could study the route and finally work out where I was and try to figure out a way home. A car sped past, the first one I’d heard for ages, but I didn’t think anything of it until car doors banged and I realised the car had stopped a little further up the road.
Footsteps drew nearer—two sets of footsteps, in fact—so I shot a look over my shoulder. The street lights cast a dim orange glow, offering just enough light for me to see two men approaching the bus shelter. My body recognised the threat before my eyes had even focused properly. They were slowing down, looking right at me rather than ignoring me, so I turned my attention back to the timetable, hoping they’d get the message and keep walking.
‘Hey, gorgeous,’ one of them said, his voice slurred. ‘What are you doing here all by yourself? You know it’s not safe for a good looking girl like you, you never know what might happen.’
His partner in crime laughed, and not in a friendly way. The sound made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle and stand on end.
Shit!
Every instinct screamed at me to get the hell out of there.
A sudden surge of adrenaline raced through my veins, making my heart beat frantically inside my chest. I couldn’t stay in my Perspex prison. That would be way too dumb. I was like a sitting duck—except that I was standing, not sitting—and, according to the timetable, the next bus might not be along until morning. Keeping my head held high, I thrust my shoulders back and started walking, continuing down the road. I’d have to find a phone box, or a taxi, or flag someone down maybe.
Typical.
The only time I needed a road to be busy, there wasn’t a car in sight. I decided to cross over, just in case I was being silly and letting my overactive imagination run away with me. No such luck: the two men crossed the road behind me as well. Well, I hoped Hayden and the rest of Screwed felt bad when they read the news reports in the morning about the girl they’d abandoned at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere who got attacked and …
Screwed.
I swallowed.
No, I couldn’t think like that. I needed to stay calm, think clearly. Focus.
Breathe …
I can do this.
As a kid, I’d had big dreams of representing Great Britain in the Olympics, but not as a long-distance runner. My cross-country coach had a right go at me once for not trying hard enough, but I hated it—and him, to be honest—as it just wasn’t for me, not by a long shot. I didn’t have the stamina for it and my lungs always felt as if they were about to explode, which all pointed to my having to conserve my energy now, to try to outsmart these two goons rather than leg it and run out of steam.
I picked up my pace instead but, judging by the footsteps, the men had sped up, too. Damn it, I hadn’t even got a good look at their faces, but it was no good turning around now. My breath formed clouds in front of my face as my feet pounded the pavement.
Think, Lena. Think.
The bus timetable had imprinted itself in my brain, so I worked back from the stop I recognised. Finally, I had a good idea where I was, and if I was right, and if I remembered rightly, there was a small shopping precinct somewhere along this road. It couldn’t be too much further away, either, maybe another quarter of a mile or so, and I was pretty sure one of the shops was an Indian takeaway. On a Friday night, surely they would be open late. All I had to do was get there, and then, hopefully, they’d let me use their phone, and everything would be fine.
Ha! Yeah right … nothing to it.
I crossed the road again, putting me on the right side of the road for the shops, and again the goons followed. There was no way it could be a coincidence, no chance at all. They were after me. While I’ll never be a long-distance runner, I’d always been pretty good over short distances, especially sprints. I used to be able to outsprint half of the boys at school, and I got picked to represent the county one year. The two goons didn’t seem to be gaining on me—yet—so, with the element of surprise, I could maybe get enough of a head start to reach the Indian before they caught up with me.
It had to be worth a shot, and I didn’t exactly have any other bright ideas.
The voice of my old track coach roared in my head, yelling at me to get my hands out of my pockets and swing my arms like a pendulum; telling me I’d need to create extra momentum and to use my arms to drive my legs, that and be thankful my favourite Schuhs had only a small heel, which shouldn’t compromise my balance and stride length too much.
A flicker of hope sparked to life when I saw bright lights three hundred metres or so away—I was right—but then I noticed that the footsteps behind me were getting louder, closing down the distance with each stride. It was as if they knew they were running out of time. An attack of nerves brought bile to the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down. It was now or never.
Go!
Another spike of adrenaline hit and I launched myself into a full-on sprint, trying to stay in control and not run like a maniac, waving my arms in the air like a pathetic damsel in distress. I gained only a second or two’s advantage before they started running as well, but it could be enough. My hair flew out behind me as the wind bit at my face, clawing at my lungs from the inside, but my years of training kicked in and I pumped my arms as hard and fast as I could, forcing my legs to match. I opened out my stride pattern, trying to trick my body into thinking it was just another session on the track.
Less than a hundred metres to go, and the lights were getting brighter, but the goons had reached full speed now, too. It was going to be close, too close to call. I was running the race of my life and I couldn’t afford to lose.
Twenty metres … the muscles in my arms and legs were on fire.
Ten metres … the fire spread to my lungs, ready to give up.
Five metres … a hand grabbed my shoulder but I shrugged it off and dodged its grip.
One metre … I ran full pelt towards the door to the takeaway and prayed that it opened.
Both of my feet were off the ground when my outstretched palms hit the glazed door. It burst open with such force, I half expected it to smash, or come off in my hands, wrenched away from its hinges. A loud shriek met my sudden arrival and the lady behind the counter leaped to her feet with a look of pure shock over her face. I carried on sailing through the air, my body in flight, as the floor got alarmingly close.
Then it all got really weird, as though I’d hit a switch to turn everything into slow motion, with my senses on high alert, taking in every sight and sound. I swore I heard laughter from outside, and the sound of a car pulling up, but then the door slammed shut behind me, creating a draught strong enough to scatter paper flyers and menus all over the floor. What a pity there weren’t enough of them to cushion my fall.
My heels connected first, and pain shot up through my ankle and into my shin. For all the traction my footwear gave me, I might as well have stood on a bar of soap. Annoyingly, I’d toyed with the idea of wearing my Converse but decided to go with fashion over comfort in the end. Never again. Out of control, my momentum sent me careening into the counter; my knee took the brunt of the impact, but then I was tumbling backwards.
Instinctively, I reached my hands out behind me to break my fall.
Bright idea, Lena—not!
They landed on the menus and slid backwards and away from me in opposite directions. Spread-eagled and shoulders jarred, I howled in agony. With no way to stop myself, my backside hit the ground first.
Closely followed by the back of my head.
I think I blacked out.
When I opened my eyes there were two people standing over me, making me feel tiny, staring back at the two giants. The lady from behind the counter, and a man who had appeared as if from nowhere, were both looking at me with concerned expressions.
‘Are you OK?’ the lady asked. ‘Can you move?’
Good question.
Can I?
Nothing immediately screamed ‘I am broken’, so I gingerly wiggled the toes on my right foot. Then my left. So far, so good. I tried my fingers. Everything seemed to be working as it should, so I tried turning my head a little to the left—no flashing lights, no attack of the woozies—then back to the right. It would be a miracle if I wasn’t black and blue by morning, but I didn’t think I’d done any serious damage.
Wow!
‘I …’ My throat felt as if I’d swallowed the razors the band had been using and my voice cracked. I coughed to clear the blockage, trying not to wince and jar anything else. ‘I think so.’
‘What the devil were you doing, barging in here like that?’ the man asked, raising his hands into the air and leaving them up there.
‘Chased … two men,’ I blurted, incapable of stringing more than a couple of words together. ‘Had to … get away.’
‘What? Chased?’ The man’s legs disappeared from view, heading in the same direction I’d just launched myself from, and the bell above the door tinkled.
A blast of cold air rolled over my prone body—he’d opened the door—and here I was, lying down and feeling incredibly vulnerable. Everything hurt, but I ignored the throbbing pain and dragged myself up to a sitting position, then turned around, resting my back against the counter. If this was some crazy old Tom and Jerry episode, there would be birds or stars spinning around my head, rather than the entire room whirling in front of my eyes. Motion sickness kicked in big time, despite the fact that I’d barely moved, and I wasn’t going to try again any time soon, given that there was no way I could stand until the room stopped pitching and rotating.
All attention centred on the wide-open doorway, including mine.
A slow prickle of terror crept down my spine and traced a path to my stomach. Had I not already wanted to be sick, my nerves would have done the job, no problem. I really didn’t want to think about what could have happened had the goons caught me: I’d have far bigger issues than a few bruises and bout of nausea to contend with, that was for sure. But what if I’d been wrong about the car picking them up again? What if the men were still out there, waiting for me?
‘Gone,’ the man said from outside. He stepped back inside and closed the door behind him, looking at me intently. ‘Are you sure?’
