he had to sit down. He perched himself on the edge of a wall. He was shivering uncontrollably. He put his hands to his mouth, the image of Colin plunging from the flats to the ground below played over and over again in his mind like a movie clip on a loop. He retched and started to dry-cough, but he wasn’t sick. He spat a little but his mouth was very dry. He continued to sit there, shivering and staring into thin air. A fine mist of rain fell silently.
The William Tell tune snapped him back to life. He held the mobile phone out in front of him staring at his own name flashing up on the screen. He didn ’t want to answer it. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be home right now with his wife and son. Why had he come to this godforsaken town again? He hadn’t seen Gavin in over twenty years; he shouldn’t have come to the funeral.
The phone stopped ringing and immediately he felt guilty. What about the others out there? Probably trapped, alone and afraid, not even aware that they were part of this sick bastard’s game. What if Celo didn’t ring back? What if he thought that Peter had been captured in the flats? Then the phone started to ring again and this time Peter answered quickly.
‘I’m here,’ he breathed.
‘Congratulations on your escape. It was a little bit close for comfort in the cemetery wasn’t it? I thought that guy was going to find you, cowering behind the wall.’
Peter looked around him again and wondered where the killer was. Celo had to have been in the flats, maybe even in the next apartment; he could have watched him from the 10 th floor window as he scrambled up the hill, jumped the fence and ran into the cemetery. Or could he have been one of the men giving chase? Pretending to be a concerned citizen? Whatever, this guy seemed to be everywhere. Was Celo watching him right now?
‘I know you must be in shock, but you don’t have time to mourn.’
Peter interrupted, ‘I don’t want to do this anymore.’
‘Peter, it ’s far too early in the game to give up. I know you’re disappointed that you’ve lost one but you can come back from this.’
Peter pleaded , trying to appeal to Celo’s sense of humanity.
‘I know you keep saying this is a game, but it’s not. Colin is dead.’
Celo responded, unmoved.
‘Exactly, so you have to ask yourself, would you rather be the seeker or one of the hiders? Would you rather be depending on someone else to come and save you? You can be their saviour Peter. The other members of the Excellent Eight need you to be strong right now. We’re on a tight timescale and we need to get on with the game.’
Peter found Celo’s attempt to console and motivate him disconcerting.
‘I just need to rest a bit; I’ve been running for thirty odd minutes.’
‘I know, but you don’t have time Peter. Besides the more time you have to think about it, the more you’ll become upset about Colin. I’m going to give you the next clue.’
Celo was using the old adage: you have to keep yourself busy after a trauma to avoid the inevitable feelings of grief and sadness. But this was ridiculous; he didn’t feel ready for the next clue. However, he couldn’t even muster up the strength to argue with Celo, and what use would it do anyway?
Celo gave him the next clue.
‘It’s a place where you used to go with the boys and the girls. She likes everything that Lawrence’s bakes. She’ll get fat if she eats all the cakes. Cheryl Stimson probably has good and bad memories of this place. You have until four o’clock to find and save her.’
Peter looked at the time on the phone and saw that it was 15:27pm. He suddenly found his anger.
‘33 minutes? That’s not long enough. You have to give me more time!’
‘Sorry Peter. The times have been set, I can’t change them.’
And with this final comment Celo ended the call.
Peter repeated the clue in his head again. He was surprised how obvious it was. He knew exactly where he had to
The William Tell tune snapped him back to life. He held the mobile phone out in front of him staring at his own name flashing up on the screen. He didn ’t want to answer it. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be home right now with his wife and son. Why had he come to this godforsaken town again? He hadn’t seen Gavin in over twenty years; he shouldn’t have come to the funeral.
The phone stopped ringing and immediately he felt guilty. What about the others out there? Probably trapped, alone and afraid, not even aware that they were part of this sick bastard’s game. What if Celo didn’t ring back? What if he thought that Peter had been captured in the flats? Then the phone started to ring again and this time Peter answered quickly.
‘I’m here,’ he breathed.
‘Congratulations on your escape. It was a little bit close for comfort in the cemetery wasn’t it? I thought that guy was going to find you, cowering behind the wall.’
Peter looked around him again and wondered where the killer was. Celo had to have been in the flats, maybe even in the next apartment; he could have watched him from the 10 th floor window as he scrambled up the hill, jumped the fence and ran into the cemetery. Or could he have been one of the men giving chase? Pretending to be a concerned citizen? Whatever, this guy seemed to be everywhere. Was Celo watching him right now?
‘I know you must be in shock, but you don’t have time to mourn.’
Peter interrupted, ‘I don’t want to do this anymore.’
‘Peter, it ’s far too early in the game to give up. I know you’re disappointed that you’ve lost one but you can come back from this.’
Peter pleaded , trying to appeal to Celo’s sense of humanity.
‘I know you keep saying this is a game, but it’s not. Colin is dead.’
Celo responded, unmoved.
‘Exactly, so you have to ask yourself, would you rather be the seeker or one of the hiders? Would you rather be depending on someone else to come and save you? You can be their saviour Peter. The other members of the Excellent Eight need you to be strong right now. We’re on a tight timescale and we need to get on with the game.’
Peter found Celo’s attempt to console and motivate him disconcerting.
‘I just need to rest a bit; I’ve been running for thirty odd minutes.’
‘I know, but you don’t have time Peter. Besides the more time you have to think about it, the more you’ll become upset about Colin. I’m going to give you the next clue.’
Celo was using the old adage: you have to keep yourself busy after a trauma to avoid the inevitable feelings of grief and sadness. But this was ridiculous; he didn’t feel ready for the next clue. However, he couldn’t even muster up the strength to argue with Celo, and what use would it do anyway?
Celo gave him the next clue.
‘It’s a place where you used to go with the boys and the girls. She likes everything that Lawrence’s bakes. She’ll get fat if she eats all the cakes. Cheryl Stimson probably has good and bad memories of this place. You have until four o’clock to find and save her.’
Peter looked at the time on the phone and saw that it was 15:27pm. He suddenly found his anger.
‘33 minutes? That’s not long enough. You have to give me more time!’
‘Sorry Peter. The times have been set, I can’t change them.’
And with this final comment Celo ended the call.
Peter repeated the clue in his head again. He was surprised how obvious it was. He knew exactly where he had to
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