Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 798 by Angharad

It was dark in the shed, so I had no idea of how long I’d been sitting in there. I peeped through the knot hole and it was dark outside and more puzzlingly, dark inside the house as well. Now I was worried and worse, I rather badly needed a wee. Why do bladders want to empty as soon as one moves? I couldn’t see my watch, so I had no idea if it was six or ten o’clock, had I nodded off in the shed? Apart from the beating of my heart which sounded like the percussion section of an orchestra, all I could hear was the distant hum of the motorway and the occasional car passing the end of the road.

I wondered where my family were – were they safe or could the unthinkable have happened? Where was my mobile phone? Why do I get into these situations? Oh hell, I need a pee.

I gently undid the lock of the shed, even so, the noise seemed exaggerated in the wooden confines of my surroundings. The door creaked slightly as I inched it open, that’s a phrase you can’t decimalise, I mean, who’s going to centimetre a door open? Back to the suspense – I crept across to the kitchen window and peeped in from the corner. I couldn’t see anyone inside. I felt for my house keys in my bag and then quietly unlocked the back door. A moment later I was inside and feeling very scared.

I pulled the knife from my trousers and holding it under my jacket so it didn’t glint in any light that came into the house. I moved almost silently around the house checking out the downstairs rooms, there was nothing. The upstairs rooms were equally devoid of life so at least I was able to empty my badly straining bladder and then back downstairs to make myself a drink.

Clutching a mug of Bovril, I went into the hall and checked the phone – it was working. Wonderful. I called Henry but his number was engaged. I called his home number and Monica answered.

“Cathy, where are you? We’ve been so worried.”

“Any news of Simon?” I asked.

“No, not a word.”

“What are they playing at?” I mused aloud.

“I don’t know – how are the children?”

“I don’t know, Monica, they disappeared from Tom’s when I went back with the police. When I awoke this morning, they’d killed four coppers at the house.”

“Oh God, why?”

“I don’t know, they’re just gross.”

“So, what are you going to do, Cathy?”

“I don’t know. I’ve got to go, but I’ll call Henry later.”

I finished my drink and rinsed the cup out. I heard a noise – shit – someone was coming in the front door. I ducked under the table clutching the knife. I vaguely made out a pair of legs walk into the kitchen and walk around, I heard them touch the kettle and curse in a foreign language. They went to the back door and opened it. They called something in what I assumed was Russian and somebody answered from outside. My heart was thumping so loudly I expected to feel the table shaking with it.

The legs moved out of the kitchen, and I heard them moving around the house. I wondered how he hadn’t seen me. I stayed where I was. I heard footsteps above me in the bedrooms and clutched the knife even tighter.

I tried to work out what they were thinking, they’d spotted the warm kettle so they knew I’d been there. Did they think I was still around or what? That was the question. I decided that trying to fight them with my knife would be futile and I didn’t really want blood all over my kitchen. Besides, he’d probably shout if I stabbed him, and then I’d have to deal with his pal as well.

The footsteps came back into the kitchen and the way his legs moved it seemed as if he was looking around, then he went out the back door and shut it behind him and I heard him calling to his friend. Despite my screaming muscles and painful knees, I stayed where I was. By craning my neck I could just make out the kitchen clock with its luminous face. It was eight o’clock.

I stayed there for another hour hoping they’d left, because if I’d had to move in a hurry, I was likely to fall over as my legs were going numb. I crawled out backwards and very gingerly stretched my aching limbs, there were all sorts of grumbles from the stiff muscles plus some pins and needles in my feet. It was fully ten minutes before I was able to move freely.

Grabbing a couple of chocolate bars from the pantry I stole out through the back door, locking it quickly and quietly, I half expected a bullet to hit me at any moment, but it didn’t. Then I dashed over the lawn and though next door’s garden and ran up the road back to my car.

“Glad you could make it, Cathy.”

“Bill? Why don’t you piss off and do something useful?”

“I am, keeping you safe and at large.”

“Keeping me safe? You lying toad, I’ve just spent an hour hiding in a cramped space while one of them walked within inches of me. You did me a lot of good.”

“Who do you think called him off?”

“His mate, I suppose.”

“He thought it was his mate, he’s trussed up in the back of my car.”

“Where are my family?”

“Safe.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said with as much menace as I could muster.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” he shrugged.

“I don’t believe you have our illegal immigrant locked in your boot either.”

“Cathy, your cynicism is going to get you into trouble one of these days.”

“It could get you into a whole lot more, I still have a large knife.”

“Oh, still in ‘Kill Bill’ mode, are we?”

“Put it this way, as I’m unsure of your patronage, I know that if you were out of the picture, I wouldn’t have to worry about you.”

“Tut tut, such mechanical thinking, I’d have thought you were capable of much more creativity than that. I could be wearing an anti-stab vest.”

“And you think that would stop me?”

He looked at me as if assessing my strength, “Possibly not.”

“I can guarantee it.”

“Perhaps I should put you in touch with the manufacturers.”

“And perhaps I should nail you to a telegraph pole.”

“That’s fighting talk, Cathy. Don’t say anything you can’t back up with action.”

“Believe it or not, I’m not.”

“More dangerous people than you have tried to terminate me.”

“Any women?”

“No, now that you mention it, I don’t think there were.”

“That’s why you’re still walking around.”

“Thanks for the advice, I’ll bear it in mind.”

“Where’s this bloke in your boot – show me.”

“Sorry, I can’t do that.”

“I think you’re lying.”

He looked rather disappointed, “I’m very saddened by your determination to disbelieve anything I say. I’m telling you the truth, you know?”

“No, I don’t know. You refuse to show me the prisoner, and you also refuse to tell me where my kids are. Cross me again and I’ll turn you into kebabs.”

“I keep trying to advise you not to make idle threats.”

“Drop dead,” I spat at him as I got in the car and drove at him as I sped away. A mile or so down the road, I stopped in a supermarket car park and with my torch checked for tracking devices – I found two more. Then after another look, I found the one I’d missed the first time I’d checked, up under the wheel arch. I put it on an adjacent car and after filling up with fuel, bought some sandwiches and drove off to an electrical retailers and bought a new mobile, putting fifty pounds-worth of calls on it. After installing the SIM card, I set it charging off the cigarette lighter socket in the car. When I felt safe, I’d call Henry, until then I’d keep moving.