The voice followed him, echoing in his head. He was getting closer to the factory building, which seemed to be coming to life before his eyes. He stared as the cracked and peeling door swung gently open, only suddenly it wasn't cracked and peeling anymore. Stu faltered as fear coursed through him; it made no sense, and it was scaring him witless.
His knees felt like jelly. His right leg had obviously been damaged in the crash, he was limping badly, but he forced himself to keep moving despite the pain. Jo was in there. The voice had told him so and even though he didn't have a clue where he was going, somehow he would find her. He didn't even know how he understood this with such certainty, but he had to plough on.
He was near the door, just a few more feet, and he stepped forward. Suddenly he was falling. The tarmac was there one moment, and then it wasn't. A chasm had opened up beneath him. Frantically, he grabbed hold of the crack in the pitted tarmac just in front of him and managed to break his fall. The jolt knocked the wind out of him and launched spasms of pain through his neck and collar bone. For a moment, he hung precariously. Beneath his feet, it was scorching hot. The heat seemed to rise around him, and his lungs struggled to draw in oxygen. He dug his fingers in hard and chanced a glance down. What he saw widened his eyes in horror and fear. The flames beneath him were dark, and everything below seemed to be boiling up, as though trying to grab him and pull him down. The final horror was that something, or someone, appeared to be moving down there.
He scrabbled at the cracks in the tarmac in sheer terror until his fingers found purchase and he pulled himself up.
"Did you really think this was going to be easy? How arrogant." The voice was back, taunting him. Stuart dragged his scraped and dirty palms down his already filthy jeans in an effort to still his shaking hands. He was terrified. But he pushed the factory door open and stepped inside. "No..... nothing in my life is ever that easy," he countered. "This is some kind of test, right?" Why Jo should be in here he couldn't think, but as nothing thus far had made sense...he looked up and could see through the rotting floorboards right up to the roof. But it was all changing: the light was fading, the mist was back.
"Jo. JO!" he called out to her. His friend, probably the only true and lasting friend he had, was lost in this dreadful place. He wandered on. Compelled to move, although every step hurt, he couldn't leave Jo behind. He pushed open another door to reveal a dark corridor which smelt of damp and must, and something else, entirely alien. There was something so wrong about this place he couldn't really work out where he was.
"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto?!" He swung round, his laugh bitter and full of pain. Toenails clicked on the concrete floor behind him, and he stopped. Toenails. He turned round. Looked down. The dog looked back at him. It was a big dog, some sort of security-type breed he thought, and there was something terribly wrong with it. He could see entrails, and half its throat seemed to be missing. All which seemed to be intact were the two rows of gleaming white teeth he could see bared in its snarl. Slowly he backed away, his hand stretched out to push on the door to another room. Anywhere would do, where didn't really matter, but he had to get away from the dog. The dog was moving towards him, he could hear a low growl building in its lack of throat, and he pushed on the door. Another corridor. He spun on his heel and fled.
He ran hard, aware he could hear the animal only a few paces behind him, and gaining. In desperation he flung himself at the next door ahead, which swung open, and he fell through it panting. He spun to push it closed as the dog's weight cannoned into it, nearly tearing the handle out of his hand. He forced the door shut and turned back. The weird grey luminescence which had seeped into the room by the window lit the corpse in front of him. He was a police officer; he had seen plenty of sights, hideous, nightmare-ish sights, of man's inhumanity to man, but he was unable to control the whimper of sheer terror. He had believed he was immune, until seeing the corpse in front of him. It was human. At least he thought so. It was mangled almost beyond recognition, but he thought it had once been a man. It had a gun in its hand. Stu's brain pondered the significance of the firearm as another click of toenails on the clay-tiled floor sounded off to his left. He turned his head very slowly.
There were three of the dogs. And all three of them were in the same condition as the one he had encountered in the corridor. Stu went for the gun. That was all that he could do. He'd played enough computer games to know how to point and shoot. The first one fell with the first shot, the second took two shots to die, the third was flying through the air, straight for his throat. Stu fell back against the bank of lockers lining the wall behind him and fired.
The dog slammed into the lockers on the far wall and fell twitching less than a foot away. He sank to the ground, sobbing in fright.
"Tick tock, Stuart." That damned voice, taunting him. He took a moment to compose himself. Computer games. That was something he could use. He took a deep breath, and walked over to the corpse. The way it worked in the game, you sought out things which could be useful to you, and you took stuff off your defeated enemies. This is completely revolting. He clamped down on his nausea and searched the corpse. Rifling through the pockets of the torn and filthy clothing, his search yielded three more clips of ammunition for the gun, a pocket-sized medical kit which he shoved into his jeans pocket, and an empty drinking bottle. He was about to leave it, when it occurred to him that this was how it all worked. He continued rifling through the pockets, turning up a dog whistle and a chocolate bar.
"You're getting the idea now. But you need to hurry." He tuned out the voice, concentrating instead on the image of Jo in his mind. The picture in his wallet of him and her together. He remembered now. He pulled out his wallet and moved the card which covered the picture to another slot. No one would know his secret, and it helped to have the picture to look at. Mickey had picked up the camera and taken the picture of them. Stu allowed himself a quick look. Him and Jo, sitting on his desk. She had an arm round his neck, he had a hand on her knee. All very chummy and friendly, and they were looking at each other. They'd just closed a case, another one of his 'triumphs' he remembered with a bitter smile. He also remembered thinking at the time that his best friend looked beautiful. Wishing the warm smile on her face was really just for him. Later, when Stuart was alone with only his paperwork for company, he had got the picture off the camera's card and had printed it out. Very carefully he cut and folded it, and put it in his wallet. Now he stuffed the wallet back in his pocket, mooching about would not find Jo.
He felt hungry, but eating something which had come from a cadaver as disgusting as the one he had just searched seemed like a very bad idea. He shoved all his finds into his pockets, and looked around him for another exit. There was a second door, and he moved on.
He moved from room to room, keeping a wary eye out for the dog, calling Jo's name from time to time. There was no answer, and as he moved through the dark and gloomy place a figure moved up ahead of him and he picked up speed. "JO!" he roared at the top of his voice, running now. It was a woman. Joy surged through him; he'd found her. The she turned. It wasn't Jo. The kick of disappointment was crippling. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it inside out, showing the picture.
"Please," he begged, "have you seen her?"
"Who?" The woman was old and frail and bewildered, and Stu huffed in frustration. He forced himself to put the picture before her again.
"Jo.... Jo Masters." He tapped at the picture with his index finger. "Look, this is Jo. Have you seen her?"
The woman was barely with it, but she extended a shaking hand and pointed up the corridor ahead of them. Stu thanked her and ran.
The dark seemed to be seeping in more, crushing the weird luminescence around him. Stu pushed open the doors into yet another corridor. He moved forwards. Slowly. Something wasn't right, but then nothing about this was right. Hands snatched at him, grabbing his clothing. He fought on pushing and shoving in the dark, until he reached another pair of doors and fell through them.
A torch shone in his eyes. "Sergeant Turner."
"Who wants to know?" He put his hand up to shield his eyes, trying to peer beyond the light.
A hand grabbed his wrist, and spun him round. He tried to struggle, but the grip was incredibly strong.
"DS Stuart Turner, you are under arrest for the murder of DC Joanne Masters."
Stu couldn't believe his ears. "No." he struggled, but it was no good. A bracelet snapped shut around his wrist while his other arm was dragged back and the second cuff closed around his wrist. He struggled for a couple of seconds more. A hand grasped his shoulder and spun him round and he blinked in disbelief. "Sam!"
The blonde stared back at him with barely a flicker of recognition.
"Sam.... it's me... Stuart... for god's sake." he turned slightly, pushing his cuffed wrists towards her, "let me go."
Her answer was to push him in the back towards the door, back the way he had come.
He had a split second to make the decision. If he let himself be taken back, he would lose too much time, and Jo would be lost forever. He bent over, feigning injury, and as she moved to grab his shoulder again, he barged Sam sideways. Her weight momentarily surprised him and he staggered, regained his balance and charged through the swing doors behind him, and then he was stumbling and running down the hall. She wasn't far behind him, she was gaining, he had to get away, he saw a door way, the door was open, the keys hanging in the lock. He flung himself at the doorway, grabbing the keys, and shoving the door shut, fumbling with the keys trying them out in turn, difficult with his hands cuffed behind him. He caught a lucky break when the third key he tried locked the door.
He sank to his knees, panting.