Gregg sat looking through the rear window of the 4X4; he
felt sure he’d been there too long not to have been given the signal. There was a problem, there had to be. Maybe the third bomb didn’t go off? Or maybe it did, and he couldn’t see the signal? Resting his chin on his arm and looking over the seat, he waited, drumming his fingers in time with each of the wiper beats. Then he saw something, his breath caught, his eyes widened, then again he saw it, and three more times after that. That was it.
The signal had come.
The engine revved and the 4X4 shot across Culver drive. Gregg held the steering wheel hard as the car rode the six steps up to the huge burning doors, only releasing one hand at the last moment to shield his eyes as he crashed through them. Skidding sideways on the tiled floor, the car came to a stop under the landing above.
Gregg climbed out surrounded by black, acrid smoke and falling glass. Burning bits of wood fell from the window frames, and somewhere amid all this chaos, was an alarm blaring out its warning.
Without hesitation or thought for his own safety, Gregg bounded the staircase up to the room the old man said the girls had been kept in, only to find it empty. He shouted for Jenny Walsh then listened, but the raging fire cracking the wooden walls all around him, and the exploding panes of glass combined with the intermittent chonk of the alarm, drowned out any hope of him hearing a response.
After checking the four adjoining rooms and finding them just as empty, he headed downstairs. There was a door either side of the hallway, but getting to them without being struck by falling debris would be near impossible. Nevertheless, he had to check those rooms; he had to know if they were empty. No way could he leave without those kids.
Ripping the felt-covered shelf from inside the back of the 4X4, he held it over his head and ran to the first of the doors, all the time the thud of falling missiles hitting his makeshift shield accompanied him. He opened the door only to see a large empty room; he reached the other side of the hall and found the same there. There was only the kitchen left; he remembered Alicia saying she’d been sent into a tunnel in there.
Under the relative safety of the above landing, Gregg climbed in the driver’s side of the 4X4 and out the passenger side to gain access to the kitchen. Once inside, he saw an open shaft which he descended into.
When he reached the bottom he noticed a bright-coloured bangle lying on the floor by another hatch, the same type Alicia said she’d given to Jenny. The realisation of what must have happened felt like a freight-train just came thundering through the walls hitting him square in the chest. They’d taken the girls with them.
Gregg was out of the shaft in no time, scrambling back to the car; he manoeuvred it to face the doors and drove back out and onto the street. He had to get to the garage in time to stop Nick detonating the oil-truck. If he could do that, he may just be able to negotiate with Ella for the release of the girls.
With his foot pressed hard to the floor, the car leapt the stone steps as he raced to get there in time. He’d reached half way when he saw the two trucks crossing the street toward the cinema. He leaned forward as though urging the car to move faster, to get him there sooner, and even though the rain had stopped, the wipers were still at full pelt, but Gregg was too busy to notice such a trivial matter.
He saw the tow-truck reverse back across the street and watched it disappear into the alley. If he could put himself between the truck and the cinema in time, Nick would see him and not detonate.
With the engine screaming, Gregg pushed harder on the pedal, but it would go no lower, the 4X4 was giving him all it had, just a few more seconds and he’d be there ...
... AND, DEAR READER, WE'LL LEAVE IT THERE FOR NOW!
