Glancing into the doorway, she saw the man who had attacked her was thankfully motionless on the bed. His discarded jeans remained on the floor. Janey held her breath, as she crept back into the room, like a child approaching a sleeping adult.

She displaced her mind, as she pulled on the jeans. The legs were too long, and she had to roll them up to expose her feet – one of which was peppered with small cuts.

Walking back out into the hallway, she opened the closest door to find a small room and a bed much like the one she had been on. The only difference was, this one had complicated system of ropes suspended from steel hooks in the ceiling. Retreating and closing the door, Janey functioned in a semi hypnotic state – it was the only way she could survive.

She opened the next door, and was immediately confronted by a room without a bed, but instead, the floor was covered with large mason jars. Thankfully, it was too dark to what had been preserved in the glass containers, but the smell of pickled death in that stifling room was overwhelming. Jane felt a rising convulsion in her stomach, and she retched, splattering the floorboards with hot, bitter vomit.

Wiping her mouth, she glanced to the first room. She knew she could not face going back in to recover the grimy t-shirt. She would rather face the vulnerability of her nakedness.

Hurrying back down stairs, she opened the door to the yard, and had to shield her eyes against the fierce sunlight. From outside, she could see that the house stood alone in a dry basin of land, with no other house or feature for miles.

Her only option was to follow the track and hide from any approaching vehicles.

39

At the same time as Janey Bernal was discovering her handcuffs, Leighton was cramped in the back seat of a cruiser, his hands also painfully cuffed behind him. Unfortunately, unlike Janey, he did not possess the ability to squeeze out of his restraints. The heat was stifling in the baking confinement, and Leighton found himself struggling to breathe.

Paul Ross, the senior officer who was driving the car, was confident Gretsch would probably reward him with a week’s holiday for bringing this crazy old bastard in.

‘Please, guys,’ Leighton tried to lean forward to engage the two officers in the front of the car, ‘the girl on that bus is in real danger. Can you just radio in, just ask that a car pulls the damn thing over?’

‘Shut up!’ shouted Harold Dean - the passenger side cop, who was playing a game on his mobile phone - without turning around.

‘It’s true,’ Leighton continued, ‘I’ve been investigating the bus and-’

‘Investigating?’ Ross laughed almost too loudly.

‘She could die!’ Leighton shouted - his mind suddenly filled with the endless horrors that could fall upon Vicki, knowing it was his hubris which had led her into this dark world. He had few, if any options left.

‘Maybe she got on the bus to escape your stalking.’ Dean said, as he turned on the air-con.

‘Listen, Jones,’ Ross said, with a smile, ‘why don’t you just get yourself an inflatable girlfriend. They stick around a bit longer than the co-eds.’

‘Please help,’ Leighton repeated, his voice more strained this time.

‘Shut up,’ the cop in front said, and made a mock yawn. ‘You’re getting boring, old man. There’s no need to go on and on.’

‘Yeah,’ said his partner, turning around. ‘Maybe you should just sit back, and - Oh shit, shit! Pull over, Ross!’

Ross glanced in the rear view mirror to see Leighton’s rapidly darkening face, and his head lolling on his chest. His eyes had rolled to white slits in his face, and saliva was pouring from his mouth to form a vertical puddle on his pale blue shirt.

‘Fuck,’ Ross shouted. ‘He’s having a goddam seizure or something; we can’t have him die while in custody. That would be all we need.’

The cruiser came to a stop at the roadside, and both police officers climbed clumsily out of the vehicle. There was no noise from Leighton as he was dragged out of the rear seat by Ross.

Almost as soon as he was out of the vehicle, Leighton’s legs gave way, crumpling beneath him, and he tumbled backwards on to the dusty roadside.

‘Dammit, Dean, help me out here!’ Ross called to the younger officer.

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘You hold him upright, and I’ll get his cuffs off - and keep a look out for cars. Anyone stops, we say he’s D&D. Okay?’

‘Sure,’ Ross said, and crouched over Leighton, pulling him to his feet. He was a dead weight, and the police officer struggled to hold him upright, while his colleague moved behind him to unlock the steel handcuffs.

Leighton performed the action so swiftly the officers barely knew what had happened. While Ross was busy unlocking the cuffs, Leighton let out the breath he had been holding, and let his half-lidded eyes fall on Ross’s side arm, about four inches in front of him. As soon as one hand was free, he let if fall forward, and pulled the Beretta from the holster.

Throwing his head backwards, Leighton smashed it into Dean’s nose. At the same time, he saw sudden horror spread across Ross’s face, and shot him in the foot. He then spun around and threw the dust he had gathered when he was on the floor into Dean’s face. Seizing the moment, Leighton stepped behind him and slammed his foot into the back of Dean’s knees, forcing him to fall forward on to the ground.

He pushed the barrel of the pistol to the back of his head.

‘Okay, young buck, I want your gun and your car keys, and I want them now!’

40

The stocky man, who had pulled a kicking Vicki onto the bus, threw her into the first seat behind the driver, and sat alongside her, blocking her in with his body. The dull reek of sweat emanating from his body was almost overwhelming.

Moments earlier, the bus had jolted to a stop, and Vicki had tried to wave it on again. Twisting one arm up her back and gripping her throat with the other, he had hauled her on to the bus, and thrown her into the first available seat.

‘What was that shit about back there?’

Vicki said nothing.

‘I asked you a fucking question!’ he persisted.

The man suddenly grabbed her head, tearing out some strands of hair, and twisting her face towards him.

‘I just changed my mind about the bus ride,’ Vicki said quickly. ‘I had just realised I’d left my purse at home.’

‘Sorry, our tickets are non-refundable, honey, everyone completes their journey.’

He chuckled as he released her head, and began stroking her leg. Vicki moved instinctively away from him, and towards the window. In response to this rejection, the large man sighed impatiently, and slapped her hard on her face.

‘Now, you play nice, or you’ll get another tap, okay?’

It was in that moment Vicki almost fainted. She had caught glimpse of a thick, gold chain, hanging like a glamorous noose around the neck of the man. Upon the chain, several rings of various sizes and shapes had been threaded. The third one from the end was a small gold band studded with garnets - it was the ring she had bought Laurie for her twenty-first birthday.

‘Did you fucking hear me?’

Vicki nodded, her skin red and stinging.

‘Good, now, take off your jeans!’

‘Okay,’ Vicki said. ‘Just don’t hit me again.’

As she undid the top button of her jeans, the large man began moaning and rubbing his crotch.

‘I’ll hit you often as I want, honey.’

Vicki shuddered as she leaned forward to untie her shoes. Undoing one shoelace, she then slipped her mother’s pistol from her sock, and undid the safety catch. Sitting upright, she pointed it at the large man. His expression darkened, and he made a raging lunge for her.