The Dead Tracks

couldn't. She'd been gone six months and now all that separated us was a piece of wood.

    I took another step away from the door.

    And then I shoulder-charged it.

    It cracked away from the frame, swinging full force into the wall. Megan didn't even stir.

    'Megan?'

    I moved around the bed so I could see her face.

    'Megan?'

    Nothing. She was heavily sedated, her breathing soft. I put my phone between my teeth, stepped up to the bed and lifted her off. She wasn't heavy, even eight months into her pregnancy. When I brought her in towards me, her head rolled against my chest and I could feel the swell of her belly.

    I moved quickly, out into the white room and back into the corridor, pausing for a moment at the door with the rivets. In the darkness, nothing came back. No sound. No light. No movement. I almost called out to Healy, but felt his name stop at my lips as the sound of static rose and fell around me. Deep inside, I knew none of this was right. It was too easy so far. Everything was too easy. But when I looked down at Megan, I let it go, and headed back up the corridor. Past the windows. Through the hatch, to the ladder. Maybe there was an easier way out, maybe there wasn't, but I couldn't afford to take a chance. I had to get her out. I'd have to try and wake her. And then, once she was awake, I had to get her up the ladder to safety.

    But the ladder wasn't there.

    Looking up, I could see the manhole cover was still open, a circle of blue sky visible, but the ladder had retreated back into the space beneath. It was too far from the floor to reach now. He raised it. He hadn't passed us, so the ladder was either remotely operated or he'd been above ground and pulled it up manually from the lip of the hole — which meant there was another exit. It didn't matter now either way. The only option was to go back through the door with the rivets, a thought that filled me with dread. How the hell am I going to keep her safe when I don't even know what's waiting for me?

    I laid Megan gently down on the floor, pushing her hair away from her face. She felt cool. There was dried blood and snot around her nose, but otherwise she looked okay. A little bigger around the face, but she was carrying most of the baby weight at her front. Looking around, the only light was from the three rooms in the next corridor; everything else was coated in darkness. I needed to wake her before we could find the other exit — because, with her unconscious in my arms, we were both easy targets.

    I glanced down at her, trying to figure it out.

    And this time her eyes were open.

    She was looking up at me, wide-eyed, fear etched so clearly and completely in her face, it was like she'd been frozen in ice. She shuffled back across the floor, away from me, her hand covering her stomach, protecting herself and the life she was carrying.

    'Megan, it's okay,' I said softly, dropping to my knees.

    Her eyes flickered again. She was scared.

    'My name's David Raker.' I held up a hand, but stayed where I was. 'Your mum and dad sent me. I'm getting you out of here, okay?'

    Her eyes filled with tears.

    'But first I need your help. Can you help me, Megan?'

    I looked around the room using the light from the phone. Towards the back were a series of six-foot-long metal poles. 'Megan, I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You and your baby are safe. But I need your help. I need to know what you've seen of this place. I need to know how we can get out.'

    She didn't say anything.

    'Megan?'

    Then the static stopped. The silence crashed along the corridor. Five seconds of absolute nothingness. We both looked up to the speaker above the hatch.

    And then there was a cry.

    'Noooooooooo! No, no, no, no.'

    Sound suddenly crackled through it, every letter distorting. And my heart sank. It was Healy.

    'You fucking bastard! You fucking piece of shit!

    He'd found Leanne.

    Healy shouted something else, screamed it, but his words were twisted and broken; one long, terrible wail. Then he burst into tears, waves of emotion consuming him. He tried to talk over them. Tried to make sense. But, for a while, nothing came out. Then eventually he just screamed again.

    'Where are you? Where the fuck are you?

    My heart was beating faster. My mind ticking over. Should I go and find Healy? Should I take Megan with me? Should I take a chance on her staying safe? I could get her to wedge the door shut with the metal poles. But then I'd be hoping I found the surgeon first. It was a risk whatever I decided. Leaving her here would invite him on to her. Take her with me and I didn't know what awaited.

    Then I realized something: Healy.

    His crying was coming through the speakers, gradually getting louder as if the volume was being turned up.

    Or someone was getting closer to him.

    'I'm going to gut him, David'

    A whisper through the speaker.

    Then the feed cut out.

Chapter Sixty-seven

    Thirty seconds later we were at the door with the rivets, stepping into the darkness. I'd brought Megan with me, had her hand in mine. I could hear her breathing close to my ear — soft, short, scared — and knew I was taking a risk. But I had to get her and her baby to safety. And I had to get to Healy now too.

    We moved inside. I felt a hesitation in her stride and glanced back. She looked terrified. Her eyes widened, glistening in the blue glow from my phone. I squeezed her hand and swung the light around. The room was big. It had ceilings so high the light wouldn't stretch to them. There were no speakers inside this part of the tunnel system, and as we inched further in, the static was replaced by a gentle buzz, like an electrical current. It was freezing cold too. I could feel a breeze at ankle level and chill air against my face and hands.

    A breeze. That means an exit.

    There was a red-brick wall about fifteen feet to our right, wooden crates stacked up against it. We couldn't see where the room ended on our left. In front of us, a path wound its way through more crates, some broken and empty, some unopened. We must have been going for forty seconds when the buzz got louder. It was definitely an electrical current — and powering something big.

    I looked off to the right, the glow of my phone following.

    And then it felt like my heart had hit my throat.

    Out of the darkness, a series of mannequins appeared, all in a line, all looking straight at us. Some were missing arms. Some legs. All of them were female and completely unclothed, and all were attached to a base by a metal pole.

    They were wearing latex masks.

    Milton Sykes, over and over and over. Each mask slightly different, a prototype for the next. Adjusted nose. Adjusted cheeks. Bigger chin. Smaller chin. More prominent forehead. Different colouring. Some had torn and didn't hang as well. Some looked completely realistic in the lack of light, only the dummy beneath giving it away. Megan went to scream and then squeezed a hand against her mouth, her breath whistling out of her nose in short bursts.

    A noise from our left.

    I swivelled and lifted up my phone. The blue light from it dropped off about twenty feet away. I could see the polished concrete floor fade off into the darkness, and some sort of base unit on the edge of the phone's glow.