Simon Clark - The Fall

There he goes again! she thought, looking back to the wood. A figure, nothing more than a dark shape, flitted amongst the trees.

Was that Bostock playing peek-a-boo with her?

Or maybe he would rush out of the wood with the intention of strangling her there and then at the edge of the car park.

Let the sod try , she thought, angrily. Just let the sod try.

He was 50, fat and short-legged. She could easily outrun him. She’d run, yelling blue bloody murder all the way back to the others.

She caught a glimpse of a pale face peeping from behind a tree trunk.

Perhaps if she took a step or two towards him that might tempt him out from the wood. Then she’d let him chase her back to the amphitheatre, where Lee and the rest would overpower him. Just what would happen then she wasn’t so sure. She had vague ideas of turning him in to the police. Well, never mind , she told herself, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it .

The face still peered out at her. It was too far away for her to be sure if it was Bostock. Nevertheless, whoever it was seemed peculiarly interested in her.

She took another couple of paces. Now she was on the turf.

The wood lay about 50 yards away from her. The face ducked back as if shy.

She took another pace forward.

No more peek-a-boo. The owner of the face was staying hidden.

Damn, she thought. I’ve scared Bostock away. More angry than afraid now, she strode towards the wood.

It was far bigger than in 1978, she realised. The whole countryside seemed far more lush, greener. Everywhere there were hedgerows. Birdsong was more noticeable, too.

She slowed as she neared the edge of the wood.

‘Come out, come out, wherever you are,’ she sang under her breath. Then louder, ‘Come on, Mr Bostock, you’re not shy, are you now?’

With the faintest of rustlings a figure moved lightly away from the trunk of a huge oak in front of her.

At that moment she was ready to turn and run like hell. But the figure was moving away from her into the shadows of the wood where they hung as thickly impenetrable as a fog.

‘Damn you,’ she hissed. It was a good 30 or so seconds later that she realised she was following the man. She’d acted on impulse. Only she just didn’t want to see the wretch get away scot-free.

Now she found herself under the canopy of branches. She glanced back. The car park seemed a long, long way away. And here in the wood it was like a different world. Very still. Very quiet. Very gloomy. All that came to her ears was a distant whispering sound from the leaves being stirred in the treetops. A bird called.

Startled, she took a step back.

She bumped back against a tree trunk.

At least, that was the first thought that entered her head. Only now she realised the tree trunk was soft. And then it breathed into the back of her neck before grunting, ‘You’ve done it now, haven’t you, you bitch?’

Her insides turned cold.

There was no mistaking Bostock’s voice.

The second Bostock spoke the words, Nicole Wagner saw his two ape-like arms appear at either side of her to grab her in a crushing hug.

She couldn’t believe someone could be so strong. She felt like a little child in his arms. He picked her up bodily so her feet were clear of the ground. Then he was carrying her, half walking, half running. Her head bobbed up and down; she tried to yell but he was holding her around the stomach so tightly she couldn’t even breathe properly.

Instantly she felt spearing pains in her chest.

My God, he’s going to break my ribs if he doesn’t let go , she thought in panic. I’m going to break like a stick!

But immediately after that came the realisation he was going to take her somewhere quiet. Far away from the others back at the amphitheatre.

Eyes bulging, she saw trees swing out at her, then past her as she was carried deeper into the wood.

Uh , and the pain. She felt sick with it. Her ribs and stomach ached so much she wanted to yell out and beg him to stop. Just stop. She’d promise anything.

But he didn’t stop. He carried her deeper into the wood.

To somewhere he knew they’d be alone.

Tears rolled down her cheeks; she was so light-headed; he was asphyxiating her with this murderous bear-hug.

She screwed up her eyes to protect them from whipping branches as he blundered through bushes. The shadows deepened; here and there a stray shaft of sunlight penetrated the canopy like a spotlight to illuminate a patch of earth; dizzy, she saw rabbit holes.

Bostock nearly stumbled when he inadvertently put his foot in one.

Please fall, please fall … she thought desperately. But he regained his balance and moved on. A dead rabbit lay in Bostock’s path; he kicked it savagely aside.

‘You’re too fucking clever for your own fucking good,’ Bostock panted. ‘Who do you think you are? Eh? Fucking Wonder Woman? Didn’t you know I’d be waiting for you, you stupid cow?’

Nicole tossed her head and her long blonde hair tumbled forward across her face.

‘Cat get your tongue, eh? Eh?’

He reinforced each ‘Eh?’ with a muscular hug. Now she felt the vertebrae of her spine grate together under the pressure. Her heart felt as though it was being squeezed like a sponge. Now she couldn’t breathe at all, never mind speak.

‘Here should do just fine,’ Bostock whispered madly. ‘Eh? Just fine, just fine, just fine. Mmm?’

He’d stopped in a small clearing. She rolled her head back; her skull seemed too heavy for her neck muscles to support it. Above her she saw an irregular patch of blue sky framed by branches. A white dove sat in the tree and cooed down at them as if they were fairytale lovers.

‘Just fine, eh? You fucking little bitch,’ Bostock snarled.

She felt his mouth rub against the side of her neck. It was like being nuzzled by a cow. His mouth was sloppy, wet. When he finally relaxed his grip a little, allowing her to breathe, she smelt his body odour, strong and sharply sweaty.

‘I think it’s time for a little play, don’t you?’ His hands rubbed her stomach. ‘A little play, mmm?’

Suddenly he pinched her stomach hard. She writhed in agony.

‘I said, it’s time for a little play. Now did you hear me, you stuck-up little cow?’

‘Yes… yes,’ she managed to murmur. Fear as much as asphyxiation had disorientated her; she felt dizzy, nauseous; the trees revolved around her as if she’d just been out on one hell of a bender.

‘Good,’ he cooed. ‘Now, these.’ He patted her hip where the lycra cycle shorts hugged her like a second skin. ‘Take these off for me, mmm?’

She breathed deeply, her mind clearing. She knew full well what he intended. If she could only get—

‘Ah, ah,’ he said, scolded. ‘No, you don’t. I’m hanging onto you, sweetheart dear. We’re going to have a little play. Then…’ His voice turned guttural with rage. ‘Then I’m going to break your fucking neck. D’ya hear me? Eh? I’m going to fucking break it, then I’m going to fucking bury you!’

‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘Please, don’t hurt me. There’s—’

‘Hurt you? Hurt you? You’re going to wish you were never fucking born. I’m going to—’

Bostock stopped suddenly and gave a little cough. Or at least it sounded like that. Almost the kind of cough you’d make to attract someone’s attention.

A moment later she realised he was no longer holding her. She simply stepped out of his arms.

Bostock was standing there in the centre of the clearing. His face was a picture of bewilderment. She saw him running his fingers over the side of his neck as if he’d felt an insect crawling there. When he took his fingers away and looked at them, his expression turned to one of shock.