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“The guard is probably at the castle. They can monitor things from there. Josh has a state-of-the-art security system.”
“One that works in a power cut?”
Alastair was silent. The darkness felt oppressive. Maybe Rainne’s imagination was working overtime, maybe it was residual anxiety from earlier in the evening—whatever it was, she had a bad feeling.
“This doesn’t feel right,” she said. In fact, if she still believed in having a sixth sense, she would say hers was screaming at her.
“You’re just freaking out because the power has gone out. That tends to make people jumpy.”
“No, there’s definitely something wro—”
Her words cut off mid-sentence as a man appeared in their headlights. He was dressed top to toe in white snow gear, including a balaclava covering his face.
“What the hell?” Alastair shouted. When the man didn’t move out of their way, he hit the brakes, making them skid.
As if in slow motion, the man raised his arm towards them. There was a gun in his hand.
“Gun!” Rainne screamed.
Alastair cursed. He thrust the gears into reverse. Tyres slid on the snow, kicking up clouds.
“Nonononononono...” Rainne grabbed the handle above the door and held on tight.
The man pointed the gun straight at them and fired. The truck jolted backwards, speeding out of the gate, sliding over the road. Alastair fought for control as they spun away from the castle. They were going too fast. Even with chains on their tyres, the truck lost its purchase and tilted on the uneven surface.
“No, damn it!” Alastair shouted.
He strained, muscles bulging as he fought to keep the truck on the road. The gears ground. The brakes squealed. The truck lurched, its weight pulling to the side. They hit the snowy verge at the side of the road. Time froze as Rainne waited in horror for the inevitable. The truck tilted.
And then it rolled.
Rainne thought she might be screaming.
There was a deafening crunch. They slid for some distance on the driver’s side. Glass shattered. Metal ripped. There was a horrendous thud. And then there was silence.
Stark. Absolute. Silence.
Rainne’s seatbelt cut into her chest. She could barely breathe. Without thinking, she un-clicked it and fell downwards into Alastair. He hung limply from his seatbelt, his head resting on the icy ground beneath the shattered window.
There was blood on his face.
Glass in his hair.
“Alastair.” Rainne’s hand trembled as she reached for his cheek. “Alastair. Talk to me.”
He didn’t move. He didn’t speak.
“Alastair?” Rainne placed her hand on his chest. Was he breathing? She couldn’t tell. “Please.” She begged him to wake up. To be fine.
“Alastair.” Terrified, she reached for his throat to feel for his pulse.
And her world stopped dead.
5
* Joe *
“Was that gunfire?” one of the women said into the silence.
