backward and her right hand would touch the cold metal of the door. She listened, but there was nothing.
One step. Breathe, Denise, breathe. Two steps. He moved restlessly. She stopped. Fear shot through her like an injection of adrenalin straight to the heart.
Her left foot slid backwards. It stopped. Her body shifted weight. Has your life ever hinged on the sound you make as you try to walk silently across a room after midnight, afraid of waking someone?
The right foot slid back. Three steps. Her right arm came round and touched metal. The door.
Her fingers gripped the bars. One foot went through the space — and her heel hit one of the loose bars. It rolled on the rough ground, making a low gravelly sound as the metal moved against the concrete. Denise’s heart jumped as she stood stock still, waiting for the sound of movement from the bed.
There was none. There was no going back now. Nothing but escape. She pulled herself further through the bars.
One inch. Two inches. Three. Six. She was through. She was out of the cell. She kept one hand on the wall and moved up the corridor, her feet making only the smallest sound as they padded on stone.
She could still see nothing. Fourteen steps and then another door. She counted.
Then she was there. The second door, the outer door. There was a sound from the cell, a body moving in sleep. She listened out in frightened silence, but there was nothing more.
The second door now. She pushed it. Nothing. She pushed it again. It didn’t yield. Perhaps it was locked. She was trying to avoid panicking but it was hard.
Her fingers followed the door frame round. She was searching for the bolt, but there was nothing at all — the bolt she had heard would be on the other side, of course. Then she feared the worst. Was the door locked with a key that she had not been able to hear from her cell?
She searched for a key hole.
She didn’t find one. The door was not locked. If it was not locked, then it was just stiff or stuck and she was not using enough force to move it.
She put her shoulder on the door and tried to push. Nothing. She pushed harder, then leaned her whole weight into it.
If it was going to open, it needed barging. Barging would make a noise. She stood, thinking, but there was no alternative. It would wake him, but she would have to hope she had enough of a start to run and find a way out. It was a slight chance, but it was her only one.
Fear. It can drain your body of all strength. Bite by bite. But it can also surprise you. She set her mind on moving through the door. Like a karate expert thinking his fist through a block of tiles, she had to aim through the object, not at it. If you aim at it, you’ll bounce right back.
It was hard to find the power to make a significant barge. She was freezing cold and there was a monster fourteen paces down the corridor. A fierce, maniacal animal who could burst from its cave and devour her any second.
It was true that your imagination could make objects stronger or weaker and she needed this object to be weaker. Her mind concentrated, her body tightened. One shot. One chance. One moment to decide whether she lived or died.
She jumped into the door with great force, but it didn’t yield. A loud iron echo erupted and charged down the corridor. She felt as though it was happening in slow motion, the ripples of sound like an unstoppable wave travelling towards the lair. Towards the beast. Towards her destruction.
It was game on now. No surrender. She started to barge the door over and over again with her shoulder, her whole right side, her head and her sheer force of will.
In the darkened cell, the beast woke to an immediate awareness of the noise. He heard the low thud, thud, thud up the corridor. His hand moved around him. Nothing. She was gone. It took him a moment to recover his senses.
‘Levene!’ he roared at the top of his voice. It was like the cry of a wolf. It meant her death.
At the other end of the short corridor the terrifying voice pinned her to the door. Her hands were shaking so much that she felt she was going into some kind of fit.
Sebastian was disorientated in the blackness. He flailed around, searching for the door.
She had time to try once more, then he would be there. She took three paces back. He screamed her name again. It seemed to propel her against the door.
‘Levene! You’re dead! Now!’
She hit the iron door with all her strength and power. It pushed forward about an inch and then stopped. It was her last chance. She heard him claw through the bars at the end of the corridor.
Then the beast was in the tunnel and there was no way out. Nowhere to run.
‘Levene!’
Her mind seemed to throw her a lifeline. One idea. One advantage. She could move in the dark better than he could. She took a few steps towards him and lay down on the ground. She just had to know which side of the tunnel he was striding up and she could try to avoid him, roll out of the way.
She listened. His hand slapped on the left wall, so she moved to the other side, but then she heard his hand on the right wall. Which side? He was changing sides. Two more paces.
She gambled and threw her body tight to the right wall. He passed her in the dark, not noticing.
‘Levene, you bitch!’
If he found her, he would rip her apart.
She lay still. Would her plan work? He reached the end of the tunnel and with a mighty shoulder barge flung the door open. He carried on.
It had worked. He’d broken out for her. She crawled up the tunnel and crouched by the door. There was light here. A low orange light. The corridors ran in three directions. From the noise, she knew that the beast had gone straight ahead.
She looked left and right. She presumed that he was taking the only route out and began to follow him. Along the way, she found a half-brick lying on the floor and picked it up. The corridor came to a T-junction at the end. Then she heard another sound, quite close. A mechanical sound. It was an elevator.
She peered round the corner. He was to the right, at the end of a short corridor, standing by the elevator. There must be stairs if there’s an elevator, she thought. Somewhere. But how would she find them?
She peered to the left. The tunnel ran away into darkness. As the elevator arrived, Levene threw the brick as far as she could left into the left-hand tunnel. The monster turned and screamed out her name, then ran back down the corridor.
He went straight past her. The elevator doors opened. She turned the corner. Twelve feet to freedom.
She ran now and burst into the elevator, pressing the single large red button. The beast heard her and turned quickly. She could hear him screaming as he ran up the tunnel back to her. The doors seemed to move so slowly.
He was so near. She crouched in a corner, her heart thudding desperately. Close! Please! Close!
He smashed into the door as it closed. The elevator started rising. Out of hell, out of the grip of this devil. Into the light. She was crying again. She watched the red light roll round. Any moment now and she would be free.
The elevator continued to rise slowly as Denise looked around the cage. Under the metal operation plate there was an old security sticker asking all personnel to display their security passes. At the bottom of the sticker, the name of the company. Mace Crindle Corporation.
Suddenly, the elevator shuddered to a halt.
He’d cut the power. She was stuck. Stuck between heaven and hell. She was going to be dragged back into hell. She banged on the elevator door, over and over again, hoping that someone would hear her.
No one did. She sat down and shook with fear as the tears ran down her face.
Sebastian had cut the power and was now in the lift shaft, climbing the internal access ladder up to the motionless elevator car. He shouted out to Denise as he passed and then clambered on to the roof of the car and opened the hatch.
He saw her crouched on the floor. ‘Hello, Denise. Seems you’re stuck.’ He lay there on top of the elevator and looked down at her, excited by the thought of seeing her face. She wouldn’t look up at him. She was crouched filthy and naked in the lift, terrified and in some kind of trauma. ‘Let’s take you back,’ he said.
