It took a bit longer than five minutes, but they were off and on their way to the police station. Rose had to force back the urge to step on the gas. After all, they didn't really want to catch up with Blake and Danny. Still, there was the sense of urgency.
She fiddled with the radio nervously even as she tried to pay attention to the road ahead. It was already dark outside and she didn't like driving in the dark. Who knew what critter would decide to jump in front of her car and the last thing she wanted was to run over some animal... or crash her car trying to get out of the way.
As she turned the knob of the radio receiver, her fingers trembled slightly. She fumbled and the car swerved just a tiny bit, but it was enough to get her heart pumping that much faster.
Jean's hand settled on hers gently.
"Perhaps we can do without the music?" she said, her tone clear about the fact she preferred if Rose put her attention back to the road.
"Yeah, that's a good idea," Rose said, biting her lower lip in embarrassment. There was momentary silence and Rose knew she just couldn't handle that.
"Do you think they're alright?"
"Charlie and Matthew?" Jean specified and Rose nodded. It wasn't like she wasn't worried about Danny and Blake as well, but they at least went out slightly prepared and knowing there was danger. So far, Rose still had no idea what could have happened to her uncle and friend and it was driving her crazy.
"I don't know," came the reply she didn't expect. Or perhaps one she just didn't want to hear. Jean must've seen the growing worry on her face because she gently patted her arm.
"Now, I'm truly hoping they are alright. But I just don't know and I don't want to lie."
Rose gave a short nod.
"That's fair. I... I just keep thinking, if something really bad happened... wouldn't we know?"
Jean raised a questioning brow and Rose grimaced, feeling a bit silly all of a sudden.
"Like... if something bad happens to someone you care about... shouldn't you... you know. Get a feeling or something?"
"Ah..." Jean's eyes turned away, her face losing a bit of colour and Rose realized what she said.
"Never mind. It's... it's fine. They're fine," she said quickly, but Jean shook her head.
"It... it doesn't always work that way," she spoke and Rose risked a look away from the road.
"What do you mean?"
Jean shrugged.
"I didn't know Christopher died until I got the official visit. I mean... I kept having nightmares and I worried. I had a rock in my stomach from the moment he went to war, but... that was the usual fear. It wasn't a... feeling, or certainty. For all I know... I could've been making pie or singing to the boys the moment he-" Jean swallowed then shook her head.
"I knew that morning that something was wrong... shortly before the man came, but that was all."
"I'm sorry," Rose said and she meant it. She was sorry for her loss, for posing the question. Most of all she was sorry because this didn't ease her own worry. Somehow, she always thought that if something happened to a loved one, she would just... know. That she would feel the loss instantly, like something important was pulled from her body, never to return.
She supposed that was how one felt after a loss, once it came to be true. Despite being an adult, with a logical mind, she still hoped she would never have to face that. She knew she was wrong of course.
"This won't help," Jean spoke all of a sudden and Rose startled from her thoughts.
"What?"
"The moping and worrying. We need to focus on what is actually happening... so that we know what to do."
Rose blinked.
Jean was right of course. She was acting like a worried girlfriend or niece, instead of acting like a journalist that she was. She needed to get a grip and think about what they actually knew and what they could do.
"What about the Bendigo station? How... how will we call them if we get caught up in whatever is happening?"
Jean's lips tightened. It was clear she wasn't happy about their situation, even less the fact Blake basically left them home as backup. Now that they were nearing the site of trouble, they were starting to realize perhaps there was some wisdom about that. Especially if the burden of informing someone else now lay on their shoulders.
„There is a payphone not far from the station. We can use that, if the situation will get out of hand."
Rose glanced at Jean.
„What exactly is out of hand?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, feeling just a tad like she did when she and her friend in the elementary sneaked around the school grounds after nightfall, hoping to catch the janitor doing something illegal, so they could make a breakthrough article for the school paper and perhaps get the man fired. He was an asshole after all. At the time she and the friend also had a plan if things got out of hand... it was called fleeing. She vividly remembered how that one failed though.
„I suppose we will see?" Jean said with a hint of a smile.
Rose huffed, but turned her attention back to the road. They were nearing the police station so she slowed down, looking around for a spot to park the car. She saw an empty space just under the tree. She supposed it stayed empty because any car parked underneath would swiftly turn into birds dumping space, but that was hardly her concern right now. They were a street down from the station and couldn't see or hear anything that would clue them in.
„Ready to spy on the detectives?" Rose asked and Jean grinned at her.
„I thought I'd never hear that. As ready as I can be, after marrying the most stubborn man under the sun."
Rose chuckled and pulled the key from the ignition. She hesitated only for a moment before she grabbed her trusty camera. An article wasn't exactly on the forefront of her mind, but she wouldn't turn down the opportunity to get a shot of Danny or Blake taking down some baddies.
Jean looked at the camera around her neck, but didn't comment. They both headed down the empty street, glad that their chose shoes that didn't clap loudly on the pavement. Last thing they'd want was to announce their presence to whoever was around.
They kept silent and soon they reached the corner of the street. It was the one facing the back of the police station.
„Should we try to go to the front?" Rose whispered, trying to find Blake's car. She couldn't see it, but she assumed they had already arrived. Probably parked closer to the front entrance.
Jean shook her head.
„No. I think we can have a good vantage point from over there," she pointed towards a bench and some bushes at the farthest end of the parking lot near the back entrance of the station. The bench and bushes were in total darkness as the closest lamp seemed to have blown out.
Rose nodded and they made it over the road and quickly took up their new watching place. And Rose had to admit, Jean picked a good one. She could see straight at the back entrance and if she turned, she saw the payphone maybe fifty metres from them.
It took a bit of waiting and a lot of patience, but it paid off. Rose spotted them first. Danny and some other cops, lurking around the wall of the station. She watched, tempted to pull out her camera and take a shot, but knowing that would be stupid. She would have to use the flash to catch anything and she wasn't about to jeopardize whatever was going on there.
She and Jean watched in tense silence as Danny and the cops seemed to catch sight of something they didn't like. When they swiftly left the scene, Rose felt her stomach twist in apprehension.
„Something is wrong," she said and felt like an idiot for even having to voice that. Of course something was wrong, they knew that all along. But Danny's reaction and retreat told her whatever it was, it was bad. She was worried about Danny and Blake, who were obviously planning some kind of action. She was frightened for Charlie and her uncle though.
„What do we do now?" she asked when Jean didn't seem to want to move. Rose itched to go after Danny and make him tell her what he saw, what the plan was. Obviously, that would be a bad idea.
„We wait," Jean said softly, though it was apparent she was tense as well.
Rose frowned.
„I'm not best at waiting," she admitted and got an amused look from Jean.
„You're a journalist. I thought lurking around was your hobby," she said with a twitch of her lip. Rose rolled her eyes.
„Yes, but not when my friends and family are involved!" she hissed back. Admittedly, that wasn't exactly true she knew, as she remembered the incident with Charlie and his brother. But... that was different. Feelings were one thing... bodily harm was another.
„Still, we need to wait. I doubt they will try to get inside through the front door..." Jean's words faltered as she must've come to the same realization as Rose. This was Danny and Blake they were talking about. What were the chances of them doing something unexpected?
Rose groaned, but for the moment accepted that she would simply have to wait.
It took a while, or something that felt like eternity but couldn't have been more than ten minutes in reality. She was just about ready to say screw it, I'm going to see what's going on, when Jean's arm squeezed her shoulder.
„There!" Jean hissed, pointing to the corner of the building and seeing two people lurking around. She was pretty sure one of them was Danny.
This time, while his movements were stealthy, they were also rather purposeful. He and the other cop positioned themselves against the back entrance, clearly waiting for something.
Rose wasn't sure what it was. They were too far to hear, but there must've been some sort of signal or else they heard something, because suddenly the still duo went on hell bent to kick the door open. It didn't take them long and they vanished inside the building. Rose was standing now, giving up pretence of hiding, legs taunt, and ready to run. Jean was next to her, arm clutching her shoulder to keep her in place.
Until the shot rang out.
Rose wasn't aware if Jean let go first or if she sprung to action and broke out of her hold. One moment she was crouching by the bench, the next she was standing by the broken down door, frozen in place, heart beating rapidly inside her chest. Jean stood next to her, eyes widely scanning the hallway. They saw movement and on instinct pulled back, seeking cover behind the wall.
There were sounds of fighting but Rose recognized Blake's voice at some point. Then someone cursed and started reciting Miranda and Rose knew the police had got the upper hand.
Only now did she realize that they had totally ignored Blake's request and their original plan of calling help. Rose looked at Jean.
„Should we call help?" she mouthed and Jean looked torn. It was clear she wanted to go inside and find out if everyone was alright, but what if they walked right into the situation and did more harm than good?
Any hesitancy on their part was washed away as they heard the shouting and screams.
Was that Danny?
Rose didn't wait for Jean to stop her. She rushed in.
She caught a most unladylike curse flowing from Jean's lips but that didn't stop her from running down the hall, following the sound of shouting. She didn't have to glance back to know that Jean was close on her heels. There was no way that woman would stay behind.
Danny couldn't help but regret calling the guy. Lewis was an idiot. What was worse, it was an incompetent and cowardly idiot. That could've been a rather deadly combination. He figured that out as soon as they broke down the back entrance to the station. Perhaps they could've done it with less flair, but then Danny was half hoping they might create a distraction and offer at least some help to Blake and the guys coming from the front.
Trouble was, once they got inside. Danny caught sight of a door slamming shut, the one leading to the main office. He was about to burst in when he heard the gun shots. He froze in place, unsure what to do. Should he barge inside the main office, opening himself to whatever lie inside without thinking, or should he find out what was happening at the entrance?
The sound of a fight and curses made him decide quickly. He was about to turn the corner when he noticed that Lewis was still standing by the broken back door. The man looked pale and shaky and for a second Danny worried that perhaps he was hit by some stray bullet, but he couldn't see any blood or injury.
"Lewis!" Danny hissed, hating to lose time, but he couldn't just leave the man there. "Get moving!"
Lewis winced then visibly swallowed, taking a step inside. Danny could see his hands were shaking, which was definitely not a good look for a cop.
"I... uh... I'll... make sure... no one leaves," Lewis stuttered and Danny clenched his jaw.
He wanted to tell Lewis what he thought of him, but that would take too long. In the end, he thought that perhaps the man was less dangerous if he kept out of things. So he gave a tight nod.
"There's someone in the main office still. Guard the door," Danny ordered. He saw Lewis blanch and take a step to the side automatically, so that he would be out of fire range from said door. Danny shot him an unimpressed look but decided there were more important things to do. Like check on Blake and the guys.
He had just turned the corner to see that the men mostly had things under control. Well, they all seemed to be struggling and getting in a few punches, but as far as he could tell, neither of them was shot. Blake had just kicked a guy on the floor in the leg and Jamieson was doing a good job of pulling of some perps arm in the process of rendering him harmless.
Danny took a few steps towards them, intent on helping with getting the men under control so that they could focus on the perp in the main office and the possible hostage, when he heard the screaming.
He froze in place.
He didn't recognize the voices, but he could tell whatever was happening wasn't good. The screams were angry and panicked at the same time. They held the sort of desperation that only came with the realisation of oncoming death.
Danny looked at the scene in front of him. The fight and struggle was coming to an end. Seeing that, he turned and rushed towards the source of the screams. He caught sight of Lewis coming up the hallway and wanted to tell him to get back to his post, but he didn't want to lose time arguing with the idiot. He just hoped the man wouldn't mess something up.
It would have been nice to have an actual backup but he knew Blake had his own problems to deal with. Hopefully, whatever the situation awaiting him could be handled. Only thing he regretted was the fact he was unarmed.
He cursed the fact that the main office seemed to be occupied by the bad guys right now, because the cabinet with the weapons was there. The only place he could perhaps get his hand on anything handy was the small janitorial room located near the stairs to the cells.
Grimacing, Danny came to a halt in front of the door, trying not to cringe at the louder sounding cries for help and curses coming from downstairs. He pulled at the door and was relieved when it opened. At least one thing he didn't have to fight his way in, he thought, but a look inside quickly dampened his elation.
The cabinet hardly offered anything that could be of much use in his situation, unless he wanted to mop up all the blood that would surely be spilled if he didn't get a move on.
"Bloody hell!" Danny uttered, needing to let out some of his frustration, even as his eyes landed on a rickety looking broom in the corner.
He wanted to curse some more but recognized the fact it wouldn't help and he should probably be thankful anyway. A broom, however weird it looked in his hands, was still better than nothing.
Grabbing the makeshift 'weapon', Danny rushed down the stairs.
"Fucking bastard!"
"Let me go! Do you know who I am?!"
"Help!"
All those cries were interspersed by the sound of laughter, rattling of bars, feet kicking against doors.
"I hardly care who you lot are," the masked man chuckled even as he splashed the cell and its occupant with gasoline.
Danny felt sick to his stomach. He had an inkling that the attackers were trying to burn down the police station when they caught sight of the guy bringing in the cans. But he didn't really think they would actually try and burn the people inside alive? That was just...
Danny couldn't stop the grimace of disgust, not that anyone was paying attention to him. The attacker was several metres ahead, splashing away, chuckling at the angry cries of the prisoners. Danny was hoping he would stay that way long enough for him to reach him and brain him with the broom, but... luck wasn't on his side.
The can was obviously empty and the man turned to throw it away and grab the second one. He moved too fast... Danny had nowhere to hide and he was too far to use the broom still.
It was only a blink of a second when they both froze, facing each other. Then the empty petrol can went flying right at Danny's head.
He raised the hand holding the broom on instinct just in time for the can to connect with his forearm painfully. It was still better than his head, Danny thought in the moment somehow dumbly. He still had the broom in his hand, while the canister clattered to the floor. He made a move forward, swishing almost automatically. The bristled head of the broom swiped at the masked head, landing on the shoulder and breaking off with a crunch.
There was a grunt, but it was hardly enough to stop the man's approach.
Danny saw the man rush at him and in the next moment he felt a full body punch as he was thrown to the ground. The attacker kept his own balance and Danny found himself in the most vulnerable position on the floor. A foot came his way and he managed to roll away, but the move got him closer to the cells.
The situation wasn't good.
He was on the floor, slightly dazed from the knock, with no way of escape. The prisoners were still screaming and rattling at the bars, which wasn't really helpful. The blasted broom lay out of reach, behind the masked man that was approaching, his eyes glinting dangerously.
"Fucking pigs. You just can't stay out of things, can you? Well now, there's only one kind of pig I like... a roasted one," the man said with a chuckle as he reached for the second petrol can. Danny wanted to get up and punch that smile off his face, kick his ass and throw him in one of those cells, but he barely managed to make it up back to his feet when he felt the gasoline hit him in the face.
Spluttering, he automatically covered his face and eyes from the vile liquid. His heart was hammering as he felt it running down his skin, soaking into his clothes. His eyes burned even from just the few drops that managed to roll down his closed eyelids. He rubbed frantically at his face, pressing his body back into the corner.
Panic was quickly taking over his rational mind.
He should've attacked, should've rushed forward and knocked the bastard down, but for that moment all he could think of was the liquid covering his body and how flammable it was.
He tried to blink away the tears that sprung to his irritated eyes as he managed to rub some of the gasoline in. He had to see, had to attack, had to do something.
There was the sound of the canister being put down then rustling.
Danny's eyes cleared just in time to see the man pulling something out of his pocket... grinning like a fool. Danny couldn't make out what it was, his sight still a bit blurry, but one of the prisoner's near him started to scream with renewed vigour.
"Let's see how long it takes to roast a Ballarat pig, shall we?" came the voice and Danny knew that the thing were matches. There was no time to lose, he had to move.
There was a flash of light and for a second Danny thought he was already too late. The matches had been lit; the light must've been the fire...
He didn't feel pain though.
There was no fire.
Danny blinked, seeing stars.
"The fuck?" the man uttered and before Danny could voice the same, there was a dull thunk, followed by a crash of a body.
"No one told you you shouldn't play with matches?" An all too familiar voice called out, followed by another familiar chuckle.
Danny blinked, unable to comprehend what just happened.
In front of him stood two figures. As his sight finally cleared of the stars, he could make out the smug faces of Jean and Rose.
Rose was still holding the camera with the flash, ready to take another shot. Jean was treaming a fire extinguisher, with an air of satisfaction Danny only saw on her face when she managed to one up Blake in something. At both women's feet lay the crumpled form of Danny's former attacker.
"Jean?" Danny voiced, somehow still unable to believe what he was seeing.
"What? You didn't really think we would stay behind and make tea, did you?" she raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to counter her.
Danny swallowed then shook his head.
He was starting to wonder just who was really the more dangerous in the Blake household. Somehow, he doubted it was the Doc.
For a moment, Charlie thought that fate might've actually taken pity on them. Not at first sight, no. As he and Bill carefully entered the darkness, above all else, they were hit by the smell of rust. A sweep of the torch revealed a row of decaying lockers. Most of them had their doors open, hanging off of the hinges, rusty and covered in cobwebs. On each door there were name tags. Well, on the first row. As Charlie found out soon enough, farther into the room the lockers had numbers instead of names. In the middle of the row there was an occasional bench, covered in dust.
"Not creepy at all," Bill muttered as he turned the light to see that the lockers led almost all the way to the other side of the room where there seemed to be a spot of free space. Hobbling and grimacing, the duo made their slow way there, only to find another long row of lockers, once again leading to the other side of the room. It looked a bit like a maze for lab rats.
"Are they bloody kidding?" Charlie let out a curse as he saw the layout. If the room copied the size of the main entrance hall above or the dining room, Charlie thought there might be at least five rows of lockers. If there wasn't a door at the end... Bill would not be a happy camper.
"Maybe..."
"What?" Bill barked, already pissed as he came to the same conclusion.
"Well. I can go ahead and check it? Would be... faster."
Bill tensed on his shoulders.
"Bill?"
"We have only one torch," Hobart reminded him, voice thick.
Charlie grimaced. He understood Bill's apprehension. He didn't much like the idea of separating, even if they were still in the same room, but it would be him taking the light, leaving Bill alone in total darkness.
"Up to you. Want to wait here or come along?"
"I don't see a reason to... hang around," Bill grunted and nudged Charlie to start walking again.
Charlie sighed, but didn't complain. Even though he would have preferred having a moment without the added weight on his shoulders. His left one was especially starting to hurt and he wondered if he hadn't pulled it or something. He didn't think it got messed up during the fall, though who knew. It wasn't like the fall itself was very clear in Charlie's mind.
"If there is no door-" Charlie said, taking a second to catch his breath as they turned another corner, another row of lockers, "- we kick these things down. I'm not walking back the same way," he swore through gritted teeth.
All Bill could do was snort in agreement. It was clear he was trying to control his breathing and somehow handle the pain. Charlie wanted to offer him a break, but he was sure there was just one more row of lockers ahead. Surely then they would find out if this was a happy shortcut or a stupid dead end.
If it was the latter, Charlie would just flop down onto one of those disgustingly dusty benches and take a few minutes. To hell with pride. Hell, he was sure at that point Bill would just start screaming in rage.
"Davis? You see that?" Bill asked suddenly, pausing mid stride and Charlie almost stumbled.
"What?"
Bill jerked the torch to the end of the room and there... it was clearly a door.
"Thank lord!" Charlie let out and felt almost giddy with relief. All they needed was to get there and hopefully, the staircase would be just a few meters away...
With some renewed energy and hope, Bill and Charlie made it to the door faster than they anticipated. Charlie reached out shakily, hoping that Bill wouldn't comment on that little detail.
He turned the knob... and the door opened.
Charlie thought he might actually weep as they stepped out into another unknown corridor.
It took him a moment to orientate himself. This corridor looked different than the one they entered through. At first sight he thought it was just the creepy atmosphere. However strange the locker room looked, it felt somehow... safer, than the rest of the building. After all, it had a door that closed behind them, with a rather loud creak. If anyone would have entered, they could hear it. But being back in the corridor felt like being out in the open.
Bill must've felt the same apprehension, because he kept moving the torch from one spot to another. Perhaps that was the reason why it took Charlie a minute to notice.
"Stop!" he uttered, reaching out and stilling Bill's hand.
The torch landed on the wall.
Charlie swallowed.
Bill froze.
They were turned with their backs to the corridor. By all means, the way they were facing, there should have been a door and a staircase.
There was a wall.
"Fuck!" Bill cursed and Charlie couldn't but share the sentiment.
"We're so screwed," he said even as he let Bill lean against the wall. He couldn't even feel relief upon the momentary loss of added weight on his shoulders. To the contrary. He felt adrift and cold. A shiver ran through his body. He didn't realize how much he sweat through his shirt and blazer until he lost the additional heat source of Bill by his side.
He wanted to lean back against the wall right next to Bill, perhaps even slide down to the floor and just ... weep.
But he knew if he did that, he most likely wouldn't be able to get back up on his feet. So he gently pried the torch out of Bill's hand and walked right up to the wall. He put his free hand against it, tracing the mortar and the bricks.
It was clear there used to be a door.
Just as clear that it had been walled up a long time ago.
Charlie felt anger rush into him.
They were so damn close, only to be stopped by a few stupid bricks!
He wanted to smash his fist into the wall, he wanted to tear it down and drag Bill up those damn stairs.
All he did was press his hand against the brick, as hard as he could, fighting back the urge to perhaps smash his head against it. His side twitched painfully, shoulder throbbing in unison.
Why the hell would someone do this?
'Perhaps because the staircase was dangerous?' a tiny voice noted inside his head and Charlie groaned, hoping it was really just his inner voice and not some hallucination... or ghost. But no... Bill didn't seem to react to that. He was still puffing out curses and lamentations, fighting to stay upright.
"What now?" Charlie asked out loud.
They couldn't go back the way they came, that staircase was definitely blocked. Unless Lawson brought in some serious help, there was no way they could get out that way. But was there any other way?
"Can't we just... break down the wall?" Bill voiced what Charlie thought, but he had to shake his head.
"If there's no other way..." Charlie admitted. "But... most likely the whole staircase is blocked."
Bill mulled that over than nodded.
"Yeah. I'm sure Lawson would be knocking down that wall already if he could've gotten down there."
That was a valid point.
Charlie didn't want to bring up the possibility that Lawson had other problems to deal with, like a possible attacker that got them into this trouble. Just the thought of his boss being upstairs alone made Charlie's stomach churn painfully.
"We need to find another way," he said determinedly. "We can't just... sit here and wait," he added with a tinge of despair.
"I'm not arguing," Bill grunted, even though under the beam of the torch he looked like he could've used some rest. Or a bed. He was pale as a ghost and Charlie shivered.
For a second he was overcome with the thought that Bill hadn't survived the fall, that this pale apparition was just that, a ghost. But a ghost would hardly be as stubborn or heavy, Charlie realized, rubbing at the back of his neck. Bill was real and Charlie was real and he needed to stop panicking and start thinking like a cop.
He used the fact he still had the torch in his hand and shone its light down the corridor they haven't travelled so far.
"There... must be another exit. We need to check out these rooms. Maybe... maybe there will be some window or something... something we can use."
"Like what?" Bill snorted, not at all happy about the idea of more walking. "A hammer? Another 'wheelchair'? Or some rope we can hang ourselves on to shorten our suffering?" he added sarcastically.
"You don't have to be an ass," Charlie snapped back, then paused.
A rope.
He knew that Lawson had a rope, from their car. Perhaps he could try and let one end down at the other staircase? Charlie grimaced. He hasn't seen how the place looked now, but he heard the crash. The chance that they could somehow make their way through that without bringing the rest down on top of their heads seemed low. Though if worst came to worst and there was no other way, Charlie would at least take a look and make sure.
No, tracing back down the corridor, checking out every room and... what? Where would they return?
The only place where he felt even slightly less creeped out in this whole underground level were the locker rooms.
Charlie's mind was running down their options. In worst case, they would have to wait a few hours... or perhaps even days for rescue. That depended on whether Peter would tell anyone where they went, or if Lawson went for help. Charlie didn't even entertain the possibility that Lawson might be dead or hurt himself. Help would come. They just had to wait.
"We should... check out this corridor and then... get some rest. Back in the locker room. We can lie down on the benches," he added as an afterthought. While he was sure there were more comfortable places to lie down here, after all, they had seen several gurney's in the treatment rooms, Charlie didn't want to be anywhere near them. At least there was a pretty big chance that the locker room wasn't used for any kind of torture and that no one had suffered or died there.
Bill seemed, if not thrilled, then at least accepting of that option.
He gave a weary nod and Charlie walked back to him, offering his shoulder once again. They broke away from the support of the wall and just stood there, rather reluctant to continue, despite their new plan.
The light of the torch seemed to lessen, or perhaps it was just Charlie's imagination. Still, it didn't lighten up more than few meters then it looked as if the light was swallowed by hungry darkness. Charlie shivered and it was testament to their state that Bill didn't even comment on it, even though he must've felt it.
"Maybe we should just... go back to the locker room," Charlie muttered, thinking he had preferred even the dark and dank smell of the elevator shaft to the unwelcoming corridor-
"Bloody hell! We're idiots!" Charlie called out suddenly.
"Who the hell are you calling an idiot?" Bill protested, albeit meekly.
Charlie shook his head.
"No! We are! The shaft!"
"What the hell are you blabbering about?" Bill's voice was turning irritated but Charlie ignored it.
"The elevator!"
"What about it? It wasn't working," Bill stated and Charlie thought he must've been giving him a glare, clearly stating he was an idiot.
"No, but the elevator shaft is the way up!"
"Last time I checked, you couldn't fly. And I can hardly climb up the walls," Bill grunted, even though his tone has changed.
"The Boss has a rope. I don't know if it's long enough, but... it's worth a try. If nothing else, I'm sure he would've thought of that. We can communicate through the shaft."
Bill could hardly argue that, and he didn't even want to. After all, what was the alternative? The scary corridor and more walking down the memory lane? Or taking the shortcut through the relatively sane looking locker room and getting a chance to find out if Lawson was still around?
"Let's go then," Bill grunted and they both turned, entering the locker room. Charlie made sure the door behind them closed, then handed the torch back to Bill, to lead the way as he offered his support.
Despite the fact they were both tired and hurting, they had a goal. The trek back seemed to take much shorter and Charlie was glad for that. He wasn't sure how long he would manage to hold upright. He didn't want to stop and sit down before they knew what they were at. There was a pretty big chance he wouldn't get up for quite some time if he sat down.
They stood in front of the elevator shaft.
It was dark, no sign of light and Charlie gulped. If Lawson was there, wouldn't he be shining his torch down?
Probably not.
Maybe their boss didn't think about the shaft... or he decided to go for help. There were many options but Charlie didn't want to think about them. Not until he made sure.
Letting Bill rest against the wall right next to the elevator, he grasped at the bars. It took some effort but he managed to pry the mechanism open. He shone the light inside, grimacing at the muddy mess that lie on the bottom of the shaft. The elevator cabin wasn't there... it wasn't at the main floor either. Charlie turned the torch up then gulped. He wasn't sure, but he thought he could make out the bottom of the cabin far above.
That wasn't good, but he had hoped that if the elevator hasn't fallen until now, it might stay in place for a bit longer.
'Unlike the staircase, right?' once again the tiny voice provided.
Charlie told it to shut up. It didn't want to, so Charlie did the next best thing. He tried to drown it out.
"Boss?" he shouted then waited.
Nothing.
Charlie swallowed, despair slowly taking back its place.
"Boss!"
"Lawson!" Bill added to the fray. If nothing else, they could let out all the frustration.
Nothing.
They shouted and cursed for a bit longer, until Charlie felt like his throat was turning raw. He had to take a break because his side was twitching something awful, ribs screaming in pain and lungs protesting the lack of air.
"LAWSON! Answer us you son of a bitch!" Hobart bellowed, obviously at the end of his wisps as well.
Charlie groaned, the torch wavering in his hand dangerously. He still kept shining it upwards in hopes Lawson would notice the light.
"What the hell did you just call me?" came the somehow delayed answer.
Charlie blinked.
"Boss?" he called out, shakily. Then he cursed and brought a hand up to cover his eyes as a beam of light hit him in the face.
"In the flesh," Lawson called back. "You both alive down there?"
"Yeah," Charlie shouted, his lips twitching up in a smirk.
"Good! Stay that way and maybe you won't spend the next year on desk duty for cussing out your superior officer!"
Charlie couldn't help it.
He burst out laughing.
Next to him, Hobart grasped the bars of the elevator door and muttered 'Bloody bastard,' under his nose, but if anyone asked later on, Charlie would have sworn he heard him chuckle too.