Stuart James - Apartment 6

He’s been in my apartment. He’ll come for me.

Oliver thought about Claire and Meagan. He couldn’t break down now. He had to be strong. Claire had been such a big part of his life, they’d shared so many laughs together, so many wonderful moments, it couldn’t end like this. Oliver wouldn’t allow it. His mind moved to Meagan, the life she’d lived, the torment and abuse she’d suffered. How could he put them both in such a predicament? He was going to help them. He was going to rescue Claire and Meagan at any cost.

Oliver raced through the hall. He pushed the chain across the front door, twisting the key, engaging the double lock and checking it.

Now he could only wait and see how it played out. Whatever happened, he was in deep shit; and he had no idea how to escape.

Suddenly he found himself angry. Angry at how Meagan had acted, her foolishness and naivety. One thing was for sure, if trouble landed at Oliver’s door he’d blame Meagan and pin it on her. Oliver would bring her down with him.

Claire sat strapped to a flimsy chair. She pushed her body forward. She thought the wooden legs might snap any second, dropping her to the hard floor.

She gasped for breath, each time swallowing part of the hood. With her tongue, she forced the cloth away from her mouth, taking hard breaths in and out, trying to work it away from her face by locking her jaw open and swinging her head frantically.

She listened to the strange noises coming from her throat. She was unsure why she was being held captive.

A rancid waft came through the hood as she gulped for air. The basement stank of piss, mildew and something else. Claire tried to recall what it was. The smell of a butcher’s shop. A childhood memory of her parents treating them to steak on a Saturday night. She hated the stench. She stood in the middle of the shop, watching the animals on display like a freak show, the ringmaster standing at the front door, beckoning people to come in and take a look. ‘Roll up, roll up. Do we have a surprise for you today, ladies and gentlemen? A pig’s ear, a sheep’s head! Don’t fear little one, they’re most certainly dead.’

Claire’s head was full of senseless imagery and she was unable to control her thoughts. Her mind was racing and confused through sheer exhaustion. Her head was suddenly heavy, like a foreign object that had been planted on her shoulders. She was going to faint. Any second now she’d pass out. Fear caused her to kick her legs forward, desperately trying to free herself.

The door opened with a slow creaking close to where she sat. There was a shuffling just in front of her. Claire listened, hearing something being dragged, then the muffled screams.

Something was placed on the seat next to her. She heard footsteps moving closer. Someone was standing in front of her face, leaning in towards her.

Hands suddenly grasped her neck.

This is it – the end, where my world finishes. A dank, piss-smelling basement.

The guy’s hands moved around the back of her head, and suddenly the hood was whipped from her face. She felt relief from the heat which had suffocated her the last hour, welcoming the coolness of the darkened room.

Claire’s eyes darted around. There was the abductor in her peripheral vision on the left, but she was too frightened to turn and look directly towards him. She flicked a look across to the woman tied beside her on her right, a hood still over her head.

Suddenly, the abductor came into view, stepping to the front of the basement room. A tall figure; he had broad shoulders and was wearing a menacing-looking mask. It was stitched up at the sides, like flesh had been sewn together and placed over his face, the mouth a large hole.

His left arm rested by his side, holding a gun.

Claire listened to the pleas for help coming from the woman next to her, and the terrifying sobs emanating from her own throat.

He suddenly started speaking – a deep, husky voice, authoritative, confident. ‘You can play this one of two ways. Either you both die here, now, or you go for the other more sensible option. I want answers.’ The guy leant forward, pushing his head into Claire’s face. ‘Your boyfriend didn’t tell you, did he? What he’s done, I mean.

‘See, my partner Tony was a complex character. Good at his job, he worked hard with only the best intentions. Yeah, he could be brutal, but sometimes you have to be in this game, if you know what I’m saying. Anyway, your fella, Oliver, is it? I’m thinking he knows more than he’s letting on. I think he knows where Tony is, but he’s too frightened to come out and face the consequences. He broke into his apartment, that’s what I’m guessing. There was an argument, some shit or other went down and to cut a long story short, your fella killed him, dumped him in a trunk and got rid of the body.’

He pointed to the woman who was sat next to Claire, then reached forward and ripped the hood from her face. She started wailing like a baby.

The abductor looked at her closely. ‘See, I remember you. Meagan, isn’t it? I might look fucking stupid, but I never forget a face.’

The other woman was throwing her body one way, then the other, twisting, trying as best she could to free herself. Claire edged away as she tried to push backwards off the chair.

He smirked then continued. ‘Now it’s payback time, an eye for an eye. You both understand this, right? The thing is, I very much doubt he worked alone. It was too complicated, and besides, there’s something being kept from me, something I’m not being told. He most certainly had help, an accomplice to guide his actions. Look at the size of the trunk in this picture. I think he had help, don’t you?’ He leant forward, his forehead pressed against the other woman’s, holding an A4 page in front of her face. ‘Yeah, I remember you all right. How’s your husband, by the way?’

The abductor continued, ‘Someone planned it, organised the show, but she didn’t think about the fucking consequences. The way I see it, maybe you saw Tony doing his thing. He’s a debt collector. It’s his job; he roughs people up a little.’

He stood back, taking a deep breath. A dim bulb next to the door provided some welcome light. Claire stared at the crumbling wall behind him, the blackened damp marks, specks of paint lying on the watermarked ground. She was trying to figure out where they were. They’d driven for an hour, but she was unsure in which direction. She could feel the walls closing in on them.

The guy directed a question at Claire. ‘Where’s your phone?’

‘In-in my back pocket.’

The abductor untied her, struggling to loosen the knot in the rope, pulling her body forward. He fished the mobile from her jeans and placed it in her hands. ‘Call him!’

Claire lifted the phone, focusing on the screen, squinting her eyes to try and adjust her vision. She dialled Oliver’s number, and he answered instantly.

‘Claire. Thank God. Where the hell are you? I’ve been worried si–’

The phone was whipped from her hand. ‘Listen, dickhead. She’s with me.’

Oliver paused, trying to think what to say. He needed to keep calm and in control. ‘Who is this?’

‘Oh, I think you know full well who it is. So here’s what’s going to happen, Oliver. I have two women tied up in the basement. You should see them; it’s pathetic. They are begging for their fucking lives, an embarrassment. Anyway, let’s get to the point. You have twenty-four hours to wire money to an account I’m going to give you. If in that time the money doesn’t arrive, then you make a choice.’

He instructed Oliver to get a pen, reading out the account details, informing him again of the repercussions if he failed. He also stated the sum of money he wanted: £50,000.