Crossing The Line Chapter 16 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

“Call her mobile, find out where she is,” shouted Jenny to Jules.

“Her phone’s on the bed,” called back Jules, her head pounding, ”How many had she drunk? Two glasses of wine and an alcopop! John’s parents had such a well-stocked lounge.” She allowed her mind to drift over the night before. “John really was a sweetie, was she falling in love?”

“Juliette, please stay awake, and wipe that stupid grin off your face.” Jenny was venting her spleen on any suitable target. Jules sighed, and went back into her bedroom, her assistance was now unlikely. She went back to bed.

Moments later Maddy came in, “Good night then?”

“Yeah, John is like, scrumptious,” said Jules.

“Good night then.” Maddy began poking about in Drew’s bag. “Trying to work out what Lance Armstrong’s wearing,” she continued as she poked about in the bag. She walked to the door and shouted, “The red Specialized shirt and shorts, I think.” Jenny relayed this to the young policeman, who passed it on to control.

“That’s right, age thirteen, blonde, red cycling shirt and shorts with manufacturer ‘Specialized’ written on it in white. Height about five foot two or three, weight about a hundred pounds. Riding a red racing bike, made by Specialized. May or may not be wearing a helmet.” He stopped to listen for a moment, “You’re scrambling the chopper, thanks, I’ll tell the family.”

He switched off his radio, looking at Jenny and Dave, he said, “ They are going to get the police helicopter up. Don’t worry, we’ll find her. It’s important that you all stay here, just in case Meadows targets you again. It’s more likely that he’ll be trying to escape the area, but just in case, keep all doors and windows fastened, and don’t let any of the girls out on their own. I have to go now, we’ll keep you informed of any developments.” Jenny thanked him and he left.

“I cannot believe that child,” said Dave, accepting the cup of tea from Carol.

“Which one, Gaby or her inert sister?” asked Jenny. “I’ll have to stay down here until I calm down or I shall say or do something to that girl. Coming in with a hangover and then not helping when her younger sister is in trouble, possibly already facing the menace of that escaped lunatic.”

Dave put his arm around his wife, “Calm down pet, they are just kids and like kids, their timing is always bound to cause maximum disruption. They don’t do it on purpose, it just happens that way.”

“I don’t care, she is grounded from now on,” snapped Jenny.

“Which one?” asked Dave, none the wiser.

“She should know better at her age…,” said Jenny, leading Dave to suspect she was talking about Jules, but he wasn’t absolutely sure.

The phone rang, it made both Dave and Jenny jump. Dave picked up the receiver. The voice said, “Tell Barbie she’s dead.” The line then went dead. Dave felt physically sick and so angry that had Meadows been there in front of him, he’d have done his level best to kill him with his bare hands.

“You alright love?” asked Jenny noticing his pale colour. “Here, come and sit down.”

“That was Meadows, he said he was going to kill Gaby.” He said grimly, at which Jenny screamed and collapsed on the floor. Maddy and Jules rushed down from the bedroom where they had been talking, just as Dave and Carol were lifting Jenny into a chair.

“What happened?” asked Jules, stroking her mother’s arm.

“Meadows phoned and said he was going to kill Gaby,” said Dave grimly.

“Arsehole!” exclaimed Jules, “I hope he dies a painful death.”

“Yeah, and in the next few minutes,” added Maddy.

“I suppose I’d better inform the police,” sighed Dave and went off to call them leaving Jenny in the care of the two girls while Carol refreshed the teapot. Making a constant flow of tea meant she had something to do and it nearly always got drunk, so it probably helped.

By this time, Drew had reached Wareham and had wandered down by the river to have a breather and a drink. He was oblivious to all the kerfuffle at the cottage. He could smell bacon cooking, and remembering he had some money in his little purse, he went in search of the appetising smell. He found the source at a small burger van, where he ordered a bacon roll, while he was waiting under the awning for his snack, the police helicopter flew over.

“Wonder who they’re looking for?” commented the man at the van, “Some bloody joy rider I expect,” he answered his own question.

“Well I know it’s not me,” said Drew, being completely wrong.

“Here, love,” said the man handing the bacon roll to Drew, “Sauces are on the side, there.” He indicated a small basket of assorted condiments and sauces. Drew helped himself to some tomato sauce and sat on a nearby seat to devour his second breakfast.

“Do much riding?” asked the burger man.

“Fair bit,” said Drew, trying to eat the roll as daintily as he could, although his inclination was to attack it more vigorously.

“How much is that?” asked the man.

“About a thousand miles a month,” said Drew.

“What a little scrap like you?” joked the man.

“Yeah, my dad reckons that’s why I’m small; I don’t leave enough energy for my body to get any bigger.

“Do you race then?” he asked.

“Yeah, a bit,” said Drew, modestly.

“You weren’t in that one where that kid got killed a few weeks back?”

“Yeah, I won it,” said Drew, chewing and swallowing the last morsel of roll.

“You never, did you!” exclaimed the man, “You’re having me on.”

“Fraid not,” said Drew. “His name was Ronnie Cheeseman, and the bloke who killed him nearly had me, too.”

“Who was that then?” asked the man.

“Some lowlife called Meadows,” said Drew, choosing his words carefully.

“Not Roy Meadows?” asked the man.

“Yeah, I think it was.”

“Jeez kid, he’s just escaped from the nick.
”

Drew felt himself go cold. “You’re joking?” he said almost mechanically.

“Nah, I not, I’m sure it was ‘im they said on the news.”

“I’d better get back,” said Drew, feeling very shaky. He pushed his bike back towards the road, but he felt no inclination to ride, he felt very scared. Previously, he’d only annoyed Meadows, and Meadows tried to kill him. Now he’d assaulted him and had had him locked up, so what would Meadows do this time? He needed to think, he also needed to get home as soon as he could. Was the helicopter looking for the escaped man? He hoped they would find the monster and soon. Drew shuddered as he recollected the incident at the farmhouse, next time he might not be so lucky.

He looked up at the sky, it was darkening as large banks of thick black clouds moved across the heavens, the wind was whipping up too, and Drew began to feel cold. Refreshed by his bacon roll, he took a quick swig from his bottle, replaced it on the carrier, and set off for home.

Normally, a twenty-mile run would have left plenty in his tank, but now his legs seemed leaden and his mind wanted to flit about as the adrenalin flowed into his system. Instead of watching for traffic, he was scanning all around him, in case Meadows was around. Common sense told him, that Meadows would probably be doing a runner instead of trying for payback. If however, he was intent on revenge, then the risk would rise proportionally to the proximity of the cottage. This should have given succour to our hero, but he wasn’t convinced by his own reasoning, that was for ‘brain boxes’, and he was an athlete.

He pressed on, heading west, against the now very blustery wind, his speed was half that of the outward journey, and to his dismay, he felt large drops of water falling on his back and face. “Shit, it’s raining!” he said to himself. He now had the option of getting soaked or finding somewhere to shelter. A flash of lightning exploded in the sky, and momentarily blinded him. Then a tremendous clap of thunder roared all around him.

Giant spots of rain with hail began to fall and Drew pulled off the road. He felt that not only would he get saturated, but cars would have difficulty seeing him in the torrential rain. He spotted a barn less than a hundred yards away, and he made for it, the rain and hail bounced off the ground and as he rushed in, his shirt and shorts were already quite wet.

The celestial fireworks continued, as did the rain and hail. He watched the grass disappear under a carpet of white, the hail stones falling like snow. Normally, he would love to watch such a storm, but he was still fifteen miles from the base with who knows what waiting for him. A crash of thunder made the barn shake and Drew physically started. His nerves were on edge, to say the least, but at least for the moment he was safe, if only from the storm.

The rain intensified and he couldn’t see the road, in fact, he couldn’t see much at all, the curtain of precipitation blocking his view. He stepped back further into the barn, leaning his bike against a bench. This place obviously served as a workshop for tractors and farm machinery. A large tractor was parked up the other end, one wheel lying on its side and bits of the engine strewn around the place. As Drew took in his surroundings, he saw other bits of equipment, a harrow, and plough, and beyond them what he assumed was a seed drill. He knew these things through his geography classes, they’d spent an afternoon on a local farm, while the farmer explained how a farm was just as industrial a process as a factory.

He shivered a little, it was significantly colder and he had got wetter than he thought. He looked out again, the rain was still teeming down and the sky seemed as black as night. He was going to be delayed for a little while.

The exploration of the barn took him maybe ten minutes, and then it was back to waiting for the storm to abate. He was still cold, but jumping up and down made him feel a little warmer. He was so close to tears, that the physical activity was a useful distraction. He felt so stupid, why had he come out on his own and so early? To escape his dreams? But dreams were inside your head anyway so unless you leave that behind, how can you escape them?

No, he’d come out to sort out his head, which he did when cycling. Somehow, when he got on his bike, his mind seemed to go off and do its own thing and give him the answers when he stopped, his body seemingly able to ride the bike almost by itself. Today, however, it didn’t work. He was no closer to answers and besides which, he’d forgotten the questions. He was so stupid, and this new development, assuming the bloke at the burger stall was correct, added an element of terror. He was scared, very scared. Before the anger had carried him through, that, and a bit of enormous luck plus of course his trusty sidekick. Now he was on his own and far from home, not only that, but he’d forgotten his mobile. How stupid could anyone get and still remember to breathe?

Fed up with jumping on the spot, and also much warmer, he returned to assess the weather, the sky was still dark and the rain still fell, and he was still fed up and angry with himself. Angry and close to tears…if only he’d remembered his phone, his dad would come and get him…good old Dad, he would feel safe with his dad around…but he’d been so stupid…typical bloody, blonde! Were other girls as daft as she was? She picked at her nails, cleaning out a little piece of debris under her thumbnail. She held out her hands, fingers extended and palms down. Her nails needed redoing, and some of the polish was chipped. “Come on rain,” she said loudly to the heavens, “Go away, I want to go home. I want my daddy, please go away…” a teardrop slipped down her cheek, and she tried vainly to prevent several more following it. “What am I going to do?” she said and began to sob.

“What’s the matter little girl?” said a masculine voice from behind. Drew shuddered and as he heard the footsteps approach, he panicked and legged it. He ran blindly out into the rain. The voice called out after him, but he kept running away from the voice.

His cycling shoes were not really suited to much walking, let alone running over wet, muddy ground. He began slipping and sliding about the place, falling several times, always managing to regain his balance and keep running. He was now very wet and becoming muddy as the rain continued and the ground became soggier and more slippery.

Exhausted, he stopped and turned, too tired to worry if anyone was going to catch him. He leant against a fence post, his lungs heaving. Suddenly, a crow shot out of a shrub nearby and the movement caused him to spin around and lose his footing. He fell against the wire fence and began to roll and slither. As he struggled to halt his slide, he grabbed at a fence post that was rotten and it broke under his weight. His slide increased its speed and he saw himself heading for a stream, recently swollen with the storm. He feverishly grasped at anything his hands could touch, but the momentum continued. As the panic reached new heights, his body felt almost remote: it was cold and wet, and he had mud and worse splattered all over him, including some in his mouth. He knew he was going to hit the stream and with it he might well drown, washed away towards the sea.

Moments later, but an age to Drew whose adrenalin-pumped mind was working at hyper-speed, he felt the slide happening in slow motion, and managed to at least turn his aching body to meet the stream feet first.

The bank, down which he had slid, grew steeper as it got closer to the water, and he felt as if he’d fallen off a ledge. Then his feet were in the water, and he felt the cold whoosh over him and he disappeared below the brown swirling stream. As he fell the last few feet he instinctively wrapped his arms around his head to protect it from injury, then suddenly, he was under the cold, brown water, the final fall knocking some of the wind from him.

He struggled to stand, but the water was too deep and too frantic in its headlong dash to the sea. His shoes could find no purchase, and he really thought he was going to die.

Despite the power of the water, he pushed his face above it, and gasped a breath of air. The water sucked him under again, and once more he tried to stand, but his shoes slid off the slippery surface and the sheer volume and weight of water drove him on. He swallowed some of the foul torrent and began to cough. He panicked and clawed his way to break the surface again where he sucked in some more sweet air.

The torrent pulled him under again, and he fought once more to reach the surface, which whilst only a foot or two above him was becoming increasingly difficult to reach. He began to tire and he felt the cold now gnawing at his insides, his limbs were feeling heavier and his mind was becoming befuddled.

He broke the surface once more, and although his vision was now becoming cloudy, he spotted a tree branch dipping into the stream. He lunged for it, using up his last reserves of strength, and made contact with something solid. He gripped it with first one hand and then the other, the water all the while trying to pull him back to his certain death.

He held on with aching tiring arms, wishing he was home with his family, thinking that it no longer mattered if he was Drew or Gaby, because he felt he was going to die anyway, all he was doing was postponing the inevitable. He wondered what being dead would feel like, or would he feel anything at all? He coughed and his hand slipped, but he just managed to re-grasp the branch.

He wondered who had called at him in the barn and where they’d come from, was it Meadows? It could have been anyone. He might have been at risk any way, but he might not have been either. Now he was at very serious risk, in fact he thought it was pretty certain his last minutes were ticking by.

They’d discover his body and also his secret, the press would have a field day, and it could ruin his mother’s reputation. It struck him as ironic that Meadows had tried to kill him, and here he was, doing the job for him.

He remembered his finest days of racing, and his mother’s finest hour, winning the UCI women’s world cup. He thought of his father and Jules, he loved them all. He thought of Maddy and his schoolmates, he felt his arms becoming numb with the cold and his fingers were beginning to slip as the water pulled mercilessly against his grip on the branch.

He nearly didn’t hear the dog barking for the rush of the water, and he wondered if he was dreaming when he heard the voice calling to him, “Hang on kid, hang on, I’ll get help. Just hold on.” He was lost in his own world, knowing that as soon as his fingers slipped he was going to die. Despite the cold and numbness that was seizing him, his arms ached so badly he wanted to let go, it wouldn’t take long, he thought, then the pain would be gone. His fingers slipped and he felt his body taken by the current, “Goodbye” he said in his mind, to everything and everyone he knew and loved. Then the darkness came and the cold conquered him.

Fifty yards downstream, the young man lashed to the rope held by his father splashed into the water, he could see the bundle of red tossed by the water rushing down towards him. “God it’s cold!” he shivered as the water soaked through his clothing. He’d have one chance to grab the bundle, and only one.

The bundle swept down towards him, and he struck out towards it, he grasped out and the cap came off in his hand revealing the hair in rollers beneath. “Shit it’s a girl,” he gasped and as it washed past him he made a despairing lunge and caught hold of some fabric. He grabbed with his other hand and felt a limb, he pulled her lifeless form towards him. “I’ve got her, pull,” he screamed to his father, who obliged his plea.

The older man had tied off the rope to a tree and was now pulling his hardest to get the two wet bodies ashore. He could feel the strain on his arms and legs as he dragged the rope towards him, the sweat running freely down his back and armpits, but he stuck to his task and then struggled to help his son land their catch.

“Christ, it’s a girl!” he exclaimed as he helped pull the inert body onto the bank and then to drag it clear of the stream. They turned her face down and pressed the water from her lungs, there was a faint pulse, but it was very weak. The younger man rolled her onto her back and began to breathe for her. After a second blow into her lungs, she coughed and he lifted her to her side whereupon she was promptly sick and a mixture of water and bacon roll spewed onto the grass. Another cough and she began breathing for herself.

The older man, pulled off his coat and wrapped it around her, then picked her up and headed towards the road.