Stalkers

climbing all the way to safety. What was worse, with the current at their back, they’d only get a couple of grabs for it, and then they’d be driven past and would be out of reach. Beyond the west tower, of course, there was nothing but the open waters of the estuary.

‘Christ, Heck,’ Lauren whimpered.

‘We’re almost there,’ he tried to reassure her.

The current was carrying them leftward of the stair bottom, and they had to swim hard against it, which sapped more of their depleted reserves. The stair was now almost directly overhead, zigzagging up to the octagonal underside of the superstructure, which seemed a dizzying distance away.

‘Heck, we’re going to die here,’ Lauren squealed.

‘No we’re not.’ He extended his arm, knowing he’d only get one shot at this. ‘If you miss getting hold of it, grab me,’ he said, hoping that she was close enough behind him.

It was a hell of a lunge. Heck managed to grab hold, but almost immediately his fingers slid on the greasy metal. The effort he exerted through that one wrist and hand, through those ten crooked fingers, was indescribable. Still he was sliding loose. But then Lauren reached out and caught it as well, and with her other hand she snatched the back of Heck’s collar and shoved him closer. Soon he was clinging on to the stair with two hands. They were both now gasping for breath, shivering violently.

‘Can … can you get up?’ Lauren asked through chattering teeth.

Heck said nothing at first, just hung on as he attempted to regather his strength. He glanced back in the direction of the stone tower. Still the tiny figure he was expecting had not appeared. But it could only be seconds before Deke realised which way they’d gone.

‘Because I think I can,’ she added. ‘Just hang on.’

Heck winced as she began to climb up him, digging a knee into his back, planting one hand onto his shoulder to lever herself higher.

‘Christ almighty,’ he groaned.

At last she was off him and onto the stair itself, which rattled violently — so much that at first they thought it might break loose at the top and collapse onto them.

‘Here.’ She took his wrist and pulled him up, though it was a mammoth effort for them both; their clothing was waterlogged, their limbs felt like lead.

If the fire escape on the old building in Salford had felt flimsy, this one was all that and worse. It didn’t so much shudder beneath their combined weight as swing. They clutched on to it, gazing at each other like frightened rabbits. Again Heck glanced towards the south tower. Deke still hadn’t appeared.

When they ascended, the stair was only wide enough for them to go single-file; its treads remained treacherously greasy and even though it had safety bars to either side, it continued to swing — soon they felt safer going up on their hands and knees. They’d passed the first switchback and were about twenty feet up, when an invisible object whipped past them.

Lauren, the combat veteran, noticed it first. She froze; spun around. Heck followed her example. It was Deke. His diminutive shape garbed in black but distinctive for its blond head, had finally appeared at the end of the south tower landing platform. He was in the process of taking aim at them again with his rifle.

‘Hurry!’ Heck shouted.

They scrambled up to the next switchback, regardless of the groaning, twisting metal, and, on reaching it, threw themselves flat. A slug ricocheted with a screaming whine.

The underside of the superstructure was now only thirty feet overhead. From here, they could see that it was webbed with barbed wire. Seconds ticked by, followed by minutes. There was no sound, just the wind and the gulls. Gradually, as nothing else happened, they began to feel the cold.

‘Why doesn’t he keep firing?’ Lauren whispered.

‘He could be having second thoughts about potting us on this ladder. McCulkin’s body will wash up downstream somewhere, with a head wound. If we do that as well, there’ll be a major enquiry. He won’t want that.’

‘Okay, so what do we do?’

Encouraged by his own line of thinking, Heck risked crooking his neck up to look. He could just see the south tower and the corner of its landing platform. Deke was no longer there. ‘On the other hand, he could be trying to lure us into the open again.’

‘Either way, we can’t lie here forever,’ she replied.

Heck rolled onto his back so that he could peer directly up the remaining flight of steps. Some ten feet below the superstructure it reached a horizontal catwalk suspended by steel rods and running across the underside from the northeast corner to the southwest. At either end, an additional ladder rose to join with the catwalk that ran around the exterior of the superstructure itself. It looked an easy enough ascent after what they’d already been through, if it hadn’t been for the coils of barbed wire cocooning the top three or four feet of the stair they were currently on.

‘Maybe it’d be easier just to drop over the side and let the river take us where it will,’ Lauren suggested.

‘And if the tide takes us out to sea, what do we do then?’

‘Surely we can make it to the shore?’

‘It’s several miles off, Lauren, and when we get there — if we get there — that shore is likely to consist of tidal mud and/or quicksand. We’ll drown.’

‘So what do we do?’

With a sudden recklessness, he stood upright and scaled the remaining steps.

‘Heck!’ Lauren hissed.

No shot was fired.

He didn’t look round, just kept going. She jumped to her feet and scrambled after him. Still nobody fired. Heck had now reached the barbed wire. Lauren joined him, throwing another nervous glance in the direction of the south tower.

‘What’s he doing?’ she wondered.

‘Well, he won’t just be letting us go. Come on.’

Progress up those last few feet was only possible with extreme caution. The wire had been woven around the metal stair in what was basically a large, single coil. It was possible to insinuate yourself carefully through it via a central passage, but time was now a factor — which was why Heck had no qualms about thrusting himself through quickly, even if it meant plucking both his clothes and his flesh.

‘Watch yourself,’ Lauren said, but he didn’t respond.

He was crawling just ahead of her, and for the third or fourth time she saw him draw blood. When they reached the top, they were able to climb onto the catwalk through a circular manhole. But Heck had to fight down a growing sense of panic.

‘Quickly,’ he urged her.

‘Okay, I’m coming … ow, shit!’

‘Don’t worry about that, for Christ’s sake!’

‘I’m doing the best I can!’ she snapped, climbing up alongside him. She’d snagged her arm and the left side of her face; both were bleeding freely.

The catwalk, which had been exposed less to the elements, felt a lot safer than the stair. Heck led the way along it towards the southwest corner. They scaled the last ladder to the superstructure’s outer catwalk, which seemed to be little more than a viewing parapet, a three-foot-wide ledge with a low safety barrier. Heck still urged Lauren on. ‘We’ve got to get inside now,’ he said.

The parapet floor was metal grillwork, which bonged like a bell as they rushed along it, rounding corner after corner, passing numerous portholes in the superstructure’s rusted bulkhead. Just ahead lay the entrance to the bridge connecting with the south tower. A figure in black had already started across from its far end.

‘Oh Jesus,’ Lauren said slowly.

‘That’s what I was worried about … QUICKLY!’

Directly facing the entrance to the bridge was a door. It was made entirely from steel, but again had rusted with age. It stood partly ajar, but when they tried to force it further, it grated on hinges that had all but locked with disuse.