'Aye, well ...' The ice-cream disappeared. 'Best present we can give Insch is to put that cock-weasel Wiseman away for the rest of his sodding life.' She stood there with a thoughtful look on her face, as if she was on the verge of some portentous announcement. 'See if you can find some chocolate syrup.'
Duncan was right, Mr New did come back: unconscious and thrown over the Flesher's shoulder like a side of meat. He was dumped on the metal floor in a puddle of his own vomit. The Flesher stared down at Mr New for a minute, then turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him. Leaving Heather in darkness again. She shuffled forwards. 'Mr New?' 'See: told you it was a bad idea.' 'Mr New, are you dead?' She strained her ears, just able to make out a wet breathing sound. But she couldn't tell if it was Mr New, or the Dark. Heather waved Duncan over. 'Is he dead?' 'Not yet. Soon.' She unfastened the top of her water bottle and reached through the bars, groping her way along the rusty floor with her fingers: metal, metal, cold sick -'Urgh' - metal, hair. She dragged his face round, and poured water over it. Coughing. Spluttering. Groaning. And then tears. 'Oh Jesus ...' She heard him struggle to his knees, breathing in painful hisses. Then there was a clang as he fell back against the bars. He stank of puke and fear and blood. 'He's ...' Mr New spat. 'Ow ... It's like a rabbit warren out there ... underground ... dirt ... I found her. I found Hazel ...' He was sobbing now, the words getting harder and harder to make out. 'He's got a butchery with ... with bits of ... She was my wife ...' BANG - something thumped into the bars. 'SHE WAS MY WIFE!' Then Mr New's sour breath washed across Heather's face. 'He's going to kill us. I've seen it - bits of body hanging from hooks in the ceiling. I won't be a victim. I won't!' He was whispering now, as if that would make any difference to the Dark. 'When he comes back, I'll pretend to be dead and ... and then you start screaming, and he goes over to see what's wrong and I ... I'll ram his head into the bars. Keep doing it till the bastard's dead. You grab his hands! You grab his hands and pull, so he can't get away!' 'I don't--' 'You have to! You have to or we'll both die in this shit-hole! Is that what you want?' Duncan stood behind him, staring at the closed door.'Maybe he's got a point? If you don't do it, you'll end up dead like me.' 'But I can't--' 'Yes you can!' Heather shook her head. 'I can't.' 'We have to work together, Heather. We have to, or we'll die in here.' Mr New took a deep breath. 'He comes in, you scream, I charge. It'll all be over in a couple of minutes and we'll be free. OK? We'll be free ...'
'Well,' said Steel, watching as the IB packed their kit back into the filthy Transit van,'that was a waste of time and money.' It was cold and dark outside, just a sliver of moon poking out between the clouds as everyone locked up and got ready to go home. The lead tech peeled off his SOC suit. 'Nothing left to find - the whole place's been bleached to buggery and
