“What the are you doing here?”
“I got your message,” he gasps, slightly out of breath. “What’s going on?”
“I didn’t send you any message!”
“Yes, you did! You said it was urgent!”
“I didn’t send you any message!” I repeat, furiously. “Now get out of here, quick, quick!”
He stares at me in horror, suddenly seems to realise why I’m so desperate to get rid of him.
“Isabel? What’s that in your hand? What… what the hell are you doing?”
But I can’t explain it.
The day I met Alicia, an inexorable chain of events was set in motion. Events, which led me, unwillingly, unwittingly to this point. To my left, drips a giant can of petrol, and in my right hand, the lighter is already aflame.
Chapter Nineteen
I suppose the blood must continue to pump around my body, because if it doesn’t, if my heart has actually stopped, then I should have dropped with a thud to the floor. But in this instant, it seems to me that the earth and everything on it, just stops, like someone has pressed the pause button on a giant cosmic remote control. Thoughts freeze mid sentence in my brain. I am stuck in some strange kind of limbo. I don’t dare think or even breathe.
Then just as abruptly, someone hits ‘play’ and we’re off again. Deacon dives upon me, grabbing my wrist with one hand and the lighter with the other.
“No, you don’t understand!”
I fight as hard as I can, but he is too strong for me. In a matter of seconds, he has wrestled the lighter from me and flung it out of harm’s way. Even so, he does not let me go. He starts patting me down, turning out my pockets, checking to see if I have any other means of ignition.
“Get off!” I yell, in indignation, but he does not relent.
I blink my eyes at the camera and try to communicate that none of this is my fault. What will happen to Holly now that Deacon has interfered? Now that I have been forced to disobey Jody’s sinister instructions? Will I get a second chance, or is it already too late? I try to free myself from his grasp, but Deacon holds me fast. He seems to sense that it is not yet safe to let me go.
Then, all at once, there is a shrieking in my ears. Screeching, blaring – sirens go off all around us.
“That’s the fire alarm!”
But how? Our heads jerk in the direction of the petrol can, but it remains untouched, dripping silently onto the floor. And that’s when I hear the most sickening sound I’ve ever heard, as on either side of us, the doors slam shut. In a flash, Deacon releases his pincer-like grip and we race towards the nearest exit, but it’s too late, the door holds fast. We try the other one, but that one holds too. They both appear to be locked and bolted. And then smoke starts to fill the room.
Deacon stares at me in absolute shock. His face has turned completely white, his lips almost purple with horror. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so scared before. It frightens me almost as much as the terrifying situation.
“What’s going on? What have you done?”
“It wasn’t me, godammit!”
But this is no time for blame or retribution. We both look around, desperate for another door, a window, some other means of getting out. But there are no windows in the warehouse. There’s only the goods entrance at the back and the door leading through to the store at the front. And neither will budge.
“Help, we’re trapped in the warehouse!”
I smack my fists against the door that leads through to the store.
“Let us out!”
But my words are drowned out by the screaming of the fire alarms.
I try banging on the other door, the one that leads outside, but that one is even stronger, recently reinforced.
I can’t believe this is happening. Is this really how it all ends?
Deacon charges at the inner door, hitting it hard with his powerful shoulders. It must hurt like crazy, but he doesn’t cry out, just keeps at it, over and over. And when that doesn’t work, he grabs some kind of tool from a nearby workbench and starts hacking away at it, as hard as he can go.
“It’s no use,” he finally pants. “The door’s too strong!”
And that’s when the lights flicker and go out. A scream rises in my throat, but I swallow it down, determined to keep it together.
We have to do something! We have to get out of here!
I think hard, trying desperately to remember the layout of the room. There must be something here we can use, something that will help us. But I must think fast. All the time, the room is filling up with smoke, making it harder and harder to breathe.
“Isabel! Where are you?”
“Over here.”
I feel my way across the room, past the endless rows of crates and boxes. My eyes are still adjusting to the darkness, but I think I can see what I’m looking for.
Yes, found it!
I touch the cold, hard metal.
“Stand away from the door!”
I climb into the cab of the fork-lift truck. Incredibly, the keys are still in the ignition. I don’t know what I would do if they weren’t. This is our last chance, our last hope. I’ve seen the drivers operate these things often enough. Even watched Stu have a crafty go on his lunch break. How hard can it be?
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to ram the door with the fork-lift!”
“Do you know how to drive that thing?”
I ignore his question and fumble for the controls.
“Get out of the way!”
“Please be careful!”
But he knows that I will not. We don’t have time to be anything but frenzied and panicked. And this is not like driving a car. I have no idea which of the knobs and levers control the movement of the vehicle and which move the forks up and down or control the speed. I am, quite literally driving in the dark here. All I can do is hope for the best. The smoke is getting thicker and thicker all the time. If we don’t get out soon, that will be it. Game over.
The fork-lift is already loaded with crates of some kind. I don’t know what’s in them, but as I start to propel the vehicle forward, I just hope it’s something strong and heavy. I shunt forwards and back, trying to figure out what I’m doing.
The fork-lift wobbles as I attempt to pick up speed. I can’t look as I plough headlong into the door.
“Godammit!”
I hit it with a crunch and still, it isn’t enough to break it.
“You’ve made a dent!”
“Good. I’m going to back up and try again.”
“Let me have a go! You’ll hurt yourself!”
“Just stay back!”
I don’t have time for his macho posturing. I got us into this, I need to get us out. It’s just a question of which will hold out longest – the door, the fork-lift or me. I repeat the exercise, fly forwards and back, the vehicle wobbling precariously, unused to this kind of abuse. Finally, finally, there is a loud crash, and a large plume of smoke gushes in through the door.
“You’ve made a hole,” he calls out excitedly. “But it’s not quite big enough for us to get through. Give it one more try.”
“Nearly there!” I shout down to him, but my words come out as a series of coughs. In fact, it takes three tries, and with each one, more smoke is released into the room.
On my last attempt, I feel the fork-lift listing badly. As I ram into the door, I lose my grip and the next thing I know, I’m flying out of the cab and hitting the wall with a thump.
“Ow!”
I feel Deacon pull me to my feet.
“You’ve done it, Isabel! Let’s get out of here!”
He pulls me through the gap, out of our warehouse prison and into the main store. And the source of all the smoke.
“Stay low to the ground,” he coughs. “It’ll be easier to breathe.”
I’m a little dizzy and confused from the crash and I wouldn’t blame him if he left me here for dead. If it were me, I’d think twice about trusting someone I’d just caught trying to start a fire in a warehouse. But he clenches my wrist so tight, it feels like we are handcuffed together.