The Lost

Chapter 2

There was the chink of rusted chains in the dark, like an unoiled child’s swing. It had an irregular, ragged rhythm that beat at Jonah’s head. He tried to retreat back into the blackness, away from the awful sound and the knowledge it carried with it. But that led to an empty tunnel, filled with dead leaves. No, no, no. Now he could feel someone else with him, a familiar presence. Gavin. His voice was a whisper from the darkness.

Once you lose something, you never find it again.

The rhythm of the chains was pounding in his head. Jonah felt dizzy and sick, as though he were spinning. Christ, why did his head hurt so much? Something sticky was in his eyes, gumming them shut. It took him several attempts to open them. When he did, he still couldn’t see. Everything was black. The chains had stopped, but the hard surface he was lying on crackled when he moved. He tried to sit up. He couldn’t. His arms were pinioned behind him, and his legs were tied together as well.

Panicking, Jonah began to struggle. It made his head throb even more and he slumped back as a wave of nausea rushed over him. He wondered if he’d gone blind. Gradually, other discomforts began to filter into his awareness. Thirst. Cold. His hands were burning and he was shivering, aching all over. There was a foul smell in the dank air, and now memory began to return. The warehouse. A young woman, coated with quicklime and half suffocated, wrapped in polythene along with two other bodies. And Gavin.

Gavin.

Realisation came to him then. Someone had knocked him unconscious and blood from the wound had stuck his eyes together. And now he was bound hand and foot, lying on — oh, Jesus — lying on a sheet of polythene.

He began to slow his breathing, focusing on his diaphragm as he took long, steadying breaths. Gradually, the panic receded. Opening his eyes, he realised that the dark wasn’t as absolute as he’d thought. He was able to detect depth, maybe even shapes in the blackness. Turning his head — gingerly, every motion threatened to split it — he could make out a pale, vertical line of light. It was a partly open doorway, probably the way he’d come. And then he realised the light was growing stronger, accompanied by something else.

Footsteps.

Jonah shut his eyes as the door opened and the torch beam picked him out. He lay still, barely daring to breathe as the footsteps came closer. They halted next to him. Through his eyelids, the torch beam was filtered to a blood-red glow as it was shone directly onto his face.

Then it was gone, leaving miniature suns flaring behind his eyes. The footsteps continued past him before stopping again. There were more sounds: a grunt of exertion and the rustling of thick plastic. Opening his eyes to slits, Jonah saw the torch beam aimed at something on the ground. Silhouetted against it, little more than a shadow, was a bulky figure. It was stooping over something, but it was only when the crinkle of plastic came again that he understood what it was.

The figure was wrapping Gavin’s body in the polythene sheet.

A helpless fury rose up in Jonah. He strained at the bonds fastening his hands and feet, then froze as the polythene he was lying on crackled. It was only soft, but the silhouette reacted. Jonah closed his eyes again as the torch beam swung back to him. He lay immobile, as though this were a nightmarish game of statues. Don’t come over. Please.

Then the light went from his face.

He could feel himself shaking as the sounds of Gavin’s body being wrapped up restarted. He tried to stay still, not daring to move in case the treacherous polythene gave him away again. Careful not to disturb it, he tested his bindings. Whatever was fastening his ankles was on top of his jeans and socks, but he could feel something smooth and thin digging into his wrists. A nylon tie, the same as Gavin had been tied with. Jonah tried to quash the despair he felt. The slender bands looked flimsy but were virtually unbreakable. Impossible to loosen, once they’d been ratcheted tight.

A noise came from where the shadowy figure was working. Through half-open eyes, Jonah saw it cut another length of polythene from a roll and spread it on the floor. Backlit by the torch beam, the shadow’s broad back blocked his view as it heaved at the polythene-wrapped shape on the floor. There was the sound of tape being unpeeled from a roll, followed by more grunts of exertion.

Then the figure was standing. The moving torch beam allowed only glimpses as it began dragging Gavin’s covered body, slithering it across the stone flags to the sliding door in the far wall. Letting it thump back onto the ground, the figure set the torch down beside it, then stepped into the shadows beyond its beam. There was the ratchet of chains being pulled, followed by a heavy metallic grating as the door slid open on its track. From where he lay, Jonah could see a paler rectangle of night sky through the gap, and he heard the soft lapping of water. Then the figure was dragging Gavin’s body outside. There was a heavy, hollow thump, as though it had been dropped into a boat, before the figure returned. Chains chinked and rasped as the sliding door was closed. The figure bent to retrieve the torch, and Jonah shut his eyes as the beam swung towards him.

The footsteps came over to where he was lying.

Heavy breathing came from above him. Even through closed eyelids, the torch was bright on his face. Something hard shoved against his shoulder. He allowed himself to flop loosely as a foot prodded him. Don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t think.

The light was gone and the figure was walking away.

Jesus... Jonah opened his eyes a crack, in time to see the torch beam bobbing towards the door. Against it, he caught sight of a tall shadow before it stepped out through the doorway.

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.

Whoever was on the other side was big. The impact jolted Jonah’s teeth and hurt his head, but there was a whuf of escaping breath. The torch clattered onto the floor, breaking the darkness with crazed swathes of light as it rolled back and forth. Flinging back the door, Jonah launched a kick at the figure but made only a glancing contact. Then the air was driven from his lungs as a shoulder rammed into him. He slammed into the wall, breathing in a sour, vinegary smell of old sweat. Heavy blows pummelled at him from the darkness. Jonah took most of them on his raised forearms, but something caught him on the side of his head. He managed to swing an elbow and felt it hit bone, bringing his knee up as the man in front of him jerked away. It thudded into a meaty thigh rather than groin, but caused his opponent to stumble back. Through blurred vision Jonah saw him double over, and for an instant thought he was falling. Then he heard the scrape of metal on stone as the shadowy figure snatched up a length of scaffolding pole from the ground. In desperation he kicked out before the other man could swing it and felt the flat of his foot sink into a heavy gut. There was a gasp of pain.

Then Jonah’s kneecap exploded.

He cried out, but as he fell he grabbed the other man and dragged him down as well. They crashed onto the stone floor. His opponent was bigger and heavier, and there was a thock as his head struck the stone floor. Jonah clawed for a flailing arm and managed to lock it under him. He tried to clamp his legs around the man’s middle but his left one refused to work. Gritting his teeth, Jonah used the pain as a goad, squirming around and partly pinning the bigger man. He bucked like a fish but Jonah clung to him. A fist clubbed at his head. He held on, close to passing out. The man’s breath was coming in choked whistles now, his struggles becoming more frantic. Hold on. Just a little longer. Hold on. It became like a mantra, repeating again and again as Jonah rode out his captive’s attempts to break free.

At some point he realised the thrashing had stopped.

For a while he didn’t let go. Couldn’t. His body felt locked, clenched in place. Even when he tried, his limbs wouldn’t obey. Eventually, he forced them to loosen their hold. The man slumped and lay still. Jonah flopped over onto his back, muscles quivering as he sucked in air. Pain threatened to carry him away. There was a humming noise in his ears and a fluttering, like wings beating behind his eyes. The darkness seemed to take on depth. He felt himself sinking into it.

Come on! Move!

Jonah rolled over, and promptly threw up. Retching, he took a moment to recover, then he groped on the floor for the torch and shone it on his attacker. The man lay crumpled on his side, one arm draped over his face as though to shield his eyes from the light. His head was hidden by the dirty jacket that had rucked up around it during the struggle. Tensing, Jonah reached out and prodded him in the back.

The man lolled, but there was no other reaction.

Jonah sagged. He couldn’t tell if the man was breathing or not, and the possibility that he might have killed him flitted through his mind before being drowned out by the need to get help. He started to push himself to his feet, only to cry out as his knee gave way and dumped him back on the floor. He lay gasping, then turned the torch onto his injured knee.

Oh, fuck...

His jeans were soaked with blood. The knee beneath them was misshapen and already starting to swell, and Jonah knew that he wouldn’t be walking out of there. Pushing himself until he was sitting upright, he checked his phone. Still no signal. Stifling his anxiety and fear, he shone the torch across at the plastic-shrouded victims.

‘Nadine, can you hear me?’ he called, making his head throb even more. There was no answer. ‘I’m going for help... Just hold on, OK?’

He held the light on the polythene bundles, hoping to see some sign of life. There was nothing, and Jonah knew he couldn’t wait any longer. Gripping the torch in one hand, he pushed himself over to the wall and tried to climb to his feet. Dizziness and nausea washed over him. His knee wouldn’t hold him up, and he slid back down the damp wall to the floor.

So much for that idea. He looked over at the door leading into the main warehouse. The fight had carried them back into the loading bay, but the doorway wasn’t far away. Jonah told himself all he had to do was make it into the other side of the warehouse, away from these thick stone walls, and he’d be able to get a signal. A few metres, that was all. Nothing to it.

With the torch in one hand, he began crawling towards the doorway, trailing his injured leg behind him. Each movement sent a jolt of agony from his knee. It had swollen so much that it felt constricted by his jeans, and the throbbing in his head was almost blinding him. He felt crushed between the twin centres of pain, dwarfed by them. The few metres to the door seemed endless. He had to stop repeatedly, fighting not to throw up as he waited for the pounding to subside. His progress was agonisingly slow, and it was only when his hand struck something hard that he realised he’d reached the door. Pawing it open, he dragged himself through, then fumbled to try his phone again.

No signal.

Oh, come on... Jonah rested his head on the stone floor.

It was cold and soothing, smelling of dirt and mould. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing to stay there, he thought, closing his eyes. Just a few minutes. Just to rest...

He jerked awake, convinced he’d heard a noise behind him. In a panic, he shone the torch back through the doorway, expecting to see the tall figure lurching towards him. There was no one there, and the loading bay was still and quiet. Turning away, Jonah started crawling again. He fixed his eyes on a pillar ahead of him, willing himself to reach it. Only a few more metres, you can do that.

But he couldn’t. After a few more attempts he realised he couldn’t go any further. He tried to think what he was supposed to do next. Get help, that’s right... The phone screen swam in front of him, but his vision was too blurred to make out anything on it. He stabbed at it with dead fingers, mumbling in case anyone could hear. Please. I need help. He was losing it now, a rushing in his head drowning out everything else. As awareness slid away, only a sense of urgency remained.

Then blackness closed in around him.