stairs one lot going up to CARDIOLOGY the other down to the basement.
The trail of blood snaked off into the depths, shiny red spots on the grey concrete steps.
Screw that. I limped over and pressed the button, my back wet with sweat. Ding. The lift doors slid open.
Going down.
The air reeked of mildew, mingling with a metallic tang. Not the hot coppery smell of blood, something older. Industrial.
I stopped for a moment rested my head against the cool concrete wall.
Deep breaths. Ignore the pain. Ignore the pain. Didn t hurt Didn t hurt at all
Load of shite, it burned.
The wall was rough against my skin. No sound of footsteps, or shouting, or a struggle, just the buzz and hum of unseen machinery somewhere in the depths.
Where the hell was she?
A light up ahead crackled, flickered, then died altering the patchwork of light and dark.
I pulled out my torch and clicked it on. Flicked the beam across the floor until it picked up the trail of glittering red droplets. They crisscrossed the black line painted on the concrete, leading off towards the mortuary.
Told Alice not to follow the bastard down here.
Move.
I hobbled on, leaning heavily on the cane, sweat running down my face. Every step was like someone hammering a burning nail into the sole of my foot.
Sodding tunnels were a maze.
Deeper into the gloom.
Another T-junction. I paused, panted, wiped a sleeve across my face. Blinked.
Left or right? The line to the mortuary stretched off to the right, the other direction led away down a corridor more dark than light. No more blood.
Bastard
I dug out a couple of Tramadol and forced them down.
Where the buggering hell was Alice? Why did everyone
A scuffing noise from somewhere down the left-hand corridor. I brought the torch up. And there she was Alice, in her black and red stripy T-shirt and long-sleeved black top, a length of metal pipe clutched in her hands.
I limped towards her, keeping my voice low. Alice?
She spun around, eyes wide. Then a pause. Then a smile, twisted out of shape by the swollen cheek and black eye. Sorry
She shifted her grip on the pipe and nodded at a door a couple of feet away: AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY.
I told you not to go after him!
Why do you think I m standing out here, when he s in there? I m delightfully quirky, not stupid. Frown. She reached up and touched my cheek. You re absolutely sodden.
How long s he been in there?
Three, maybe four minutes?
I wiped my hand across my face slick with sweat. Right. The gun seemed to weigh a ton as I dragged it out.
You go back down the corridor and you wait in the mortuary, understand? Backup s on its way.
Alice nodded. Ash, don t She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek. Be safe. Then turned and crept back to the junction, then on to the mortuary. She paused on the threshold, peered back at me, then disappeared inside.
I shifted my grip on the gun. Limped over to the Authorised Personnel Only door and tried the handle. It wasn t locked.
It swung open on a dark room the only light a faint red glow coming from overhead. Like emergency lighting.
A row of metal shelving units blocked the rest of the room from view stacked with boxes of rubber gloves, big tubs of bleach, rolls of bin bags, and bottles of disinfectant. Hot in here, the sharp stink of ammonia overlaying something foul and earthy. Like peanut butter and raw bacon.
I raised the torch and ran the beam across the shelves. I know you re in here, McKenzie. It s over.
Scuffing noises. Something small: scrabbling.
I kept my back to the wall and limped down to where the units stopped. Shite
One wall was covered in metal cages stacked floor to ceiling. Hundreds of red eyes shone in the torchlight. Rats. A couple of the little bastards hissed at me.
I swung the torch around, and there was Frank McKenzie: back pressed up against another set of shelves, trembling. His nose would never be straight again. Blood made a Rorschach inkblot on his shirt.
I brought the gun up. Where s Katie?
He flinched back, staring at his feet, hands spidering along the shelves. I don t
WHERE S MY FUCKING DAUGHTER?
It wasn t me, she made me do it, they
Where is she? I hobbled closer. The rats turned to stare at me. Scaly pink tails writhing.
I He shrugged one shoulder. They took her away. They dug her up and took her away.
They dug her up? Something solid wedged in my throat, cutting off the air Rebecca: they d dug Rebecca up with all the others.
Not Rebecca: Katie. Where s Katie? She wasn t in your torture porn dungeon. WHERE IS SHE?
He looked up at me, frowning. Katie? We didn t Who s Katie?
Katie Henderson. Katie Nicol. My bloody daughter! I hauled my wallet out, held it up so he could see her photo. Katie!
I don t know, I ve never seen her before, it
I jammed the gun against his forehead.
McKenzie squealed, hands flapping against the shelves, sending cartons and tins clattering to the concrete floor. I didn t do anything, I just took the photographs, it was all her! I didn t
want to! It WHERE IS SHE?
I don t know, I ve never even
The gun barked like a pit bull.
McKenzie screamed, clutched both hands over the hole where a big chunk of his left ear used to be as the boom echoed back and forth from the breeze-block walls.
He sank down onto his haunches, blood oozing out through his fingers.
Where is she?
I DON T KNOW!
I backhanded him with the gun, and he clattered back against the shelves.
Aaaaaagh
Katie Henderson: your fourteenth bloody victim.
He blinked up at me, eyes wet with tears. Fourteen?
There was a sink in the corner, by a mop and wheelie-bucket. The bucket was full of greasy grey water. Wasn t exactly a
96 Pinot Noir, but it d do.
Last chance.
I don t understand He stared at me, eyebrows pinched together, mouth turned down, blood trickling down his cheek. Why would we need fourteen?
Have to find something to tie the bastard down to. The door was too heavy couldn t kick it off the hinges anyway. The shelves would do though. I grabbed the nearest set and hauled them away from the wall toilet roll and bottles of cleaning fluid bounced off the floor as it smashed into the concrete.
