She turned to ask Kelley ... but Kelley wasn't there - Heather was alone in the little metal cocoon. There was a wheelbarrow sitting in the dirt corridor behind Him, and Heather could make out a tuft of blonde hair poking over the edge, white and red bones sticking up into the dank air. 'Oh God ...' How long had she been asleep? The Flesher pointed at her, then at His stomach, head tilted to one side in question. Heather's eyes went back to the wheelbarrow. 'Is that ... is that Kelley?' The Flesher shook His head and pointed a blood smeared finger down the corridor. Where PC Screams-A-Lot had been. He did the stomach thing again. 'Yes, I'm hungry.' He nodded, stepped back outside, picked up the barrow's handles and walked it out of view. The wheels squeaked away into the silence. 'Do you think He's killed her? ' Duncan stepped through the bars, pausing on the threshold to look up and down the corridor. 'I ...' 'Be a shame, that. She was nice .' 'Maybe ,' said Mr New,'He's put her in the policewoman's cell? ' 'Why would He do that? Unless He's going to kill and eat her? ' 'Good point .' 'He can't: she's my friend!' 'Now, now, Darling, ' her Mother said,'No point crying over spilt milk, is there? Or blood .' Heather clamped her hands over her ears. 'She can't be dead!' 'Why not? We are .' Tears. 'She can't ...' 'You know ,' said a new voice, one Heather hadn't heard before,'you've still got the knife ...' And suddenly Duncan, Mother, and Mr New were gone. She turned, but there was no one there. 'Hello?' Just the empty metal cell. Heather slid her hand underneath the mattress for the forgotten knife. The blade shone pale blue in the dim light that filtered in from the corridor outside.
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