The Lost

And then all was darkness again.

Jonah didn’t know what had happened to his own torch, but that didn’t matter. Only now daring to breathe, he began tugging at the tie binding his wrists. He tried to ignore the pain in his head, knowing that if he didn’t break free now he never would. The tie resisted, and in frustration he gave his wrists an angry jerk.

He felt the tie give.

Jonah stopped, not trusting what he’d just felt. When he strained against the tie again nothing happened. But when he tried twisting his wrists, applying torque as well as tension...

The thin strip loosened another few millimetres.

He repeated the pressure and was rewarded with even more give. The tie was either damaged or faulty. Wrenching with the full strength of his arms, Jonah felt it sliding looser and looser.

Then, with a last twist, his hands came free.

His head was hammering as he pushed himself upright and reached for the tie binding his ankles. He felt a crushing disappointment when it didn’t loosen in the same way. But whoever had bound him had been in a hurry. They’d rushed it, fastening the restraint over his jeans instead of around his bare ankles. Jonah tugged the denim out from under it but the slender noose was still too tight. Pulling off his trainers and socks, he tried again. The tie slid so far then jammed on the bone. No, you bastard! In desperation, listening for footsteps coming back, he tried to force it. It sliced into him like a potato peeler, but the blood acted as a lubricant. With a last effort that scraped away another layer of skin, he got it over his feet.

Jonah stood up, and almost collapsed as dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. He bent over, lowering his head as it throbbed in time with his heart. When he was sure he wasn’t going to throw up or pass out, he straightened. The darkness was absolute. He tried to make out where the young woman, Nadine, and the other two polythene-wrapped victims were, but he couldn’t see anything. And he didn’t dare risk calling out. He hated the thought of what he had to do, but knew he’d no choice. If any of them was going to survive this, Jonah had to get out and get help.

Feeling around with his bare feet, he found his trainers and jammed them back on. He only had a vague idea where the door he’d come through was, but once he reached the wall he’d be able to find it. Arms outstretched, he began to edge forward and almost immediately kicked something.

He stopped dead as it skittered across the floor. But the noise hadn’t been loud enough for anyone outside to hear, and Jonah felt a prickle of excitement. Please. Please be what I think. Kneeling down, he groped on the floor for the object.

A blue glow lit up the darkness.

Jonah could have wept. It was his phone, probably dropped when he was attacked. There was still no signal, and he dared not risk the flashlight being seen, but the backlit screen alone seemed like a beacon after so long in the dark. Jonah held it up and the room around him emerged dimly from the shadows. His euphoria died when he saw Gavin’s blood pooled on the flagstones, straight edges showing where it had overrun the polythene sheet. Just visible in the shadows beyond it were the cocoon-like shapes of the other victims, ghostly pale in the blackness. Now he had light, Jonah started over to check on the young woman, and as he did so he heard footsteps outside.

Someone was coming.

Shit, shit! Jonah looked around for something he could use as a weapon, but there was nothing. And he was already out of time. Hurrying to the doorway, he pressed himself flat against the wall next to it. As he reached it, his phone screen went out, plunging the room into blackness again. The footsteps were closer now. Jonah took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. You can do this. It’s just like an op. Except that it wasn’t. There was no team to watch his back, no one to call on for help. He was on his own. Don’t think about that. Go in hard and fast and forget everything else. He took a deep breath, readying himself as the footsteps reached the doorway.

And stopped.

Jonah felt deafened by his own heartbeat. Each pulse threatened to split his head as he waited. There was a creak as the door swung further open. A wedge of light from a torch spread across the floor, outlining the edges of the door.

Adenoidal breathing came from outside. Jonah felt a feathering of disturbed air on his skin, then there was the sound of someone stepping over the threshold. But they didn’t emerge from behind the open door. Jonah saw the torch beam begin to fan around the loading bay, and before it could show the empty sheet of polythene where he’d been tied, Jonah threw all his weight against the door.