'Oh, Jesus.' He sat back on his haunches. Mouth open wide as the rain hammered down all around him. He reached for his Airwave handset and punched in Guthrie's badge number. It was picked up on the second ring.'Aye?' 'It ... I've found her.' 'She OK?' Pause. 'No. She's ...' he drifted to a halt, all the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. The sound of the rain had changed - the soft hammering of water on vegetation had been overlaid with a new, harder noise. As if there was something else ... someone else there. 'What?' McInnis stood. Trying to pretend he hadn't noticed anything. Oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit. 'Where are you?' He whipped round, snatching his baton from his belt, ready to crack the bastard's head open ... But there was nobody there. Just the rain and the bushes and the weeds and the grass and the darkness. 'McInnis: what the hell's going on?' Idiot. Scaring himself like that. He turned back towards the bush. 'Nothing. We need to get the IB out here and ...' The Flesher was standing right in front of him. 'Oh,' McInnis could barely get the words out,'shit.' And then the Flesher hit him.
Darkness.
'Ah Jesus!' McInnis sat up, coughing, water streaming down his face, a bright light shining in his eyes. 'You OK?' Everything smelt of blood. 'Where...?' Guthrie peered at him. 'Bloody hell! What happened to your nose?' McInnis shuddered, spat, and held out a hand, getting Guthrie to haul him to his feet. 'How long?' 'Is she in there?' Pointing at the bush. 'How long was I out for?' Another shudder. His nose felt as if it was on fire. 'Not long. A minute? Two? I saw your torch: nearly killed myself getting here. Tore the arse right out my trousers.' McInnis wiped a hand across his mouth, it came away covered in red. 'He was here: the Flesher. I saw him!' 'Which way did he go?' 'I don't bloody know, do I?'
