The Truth About Celia Frost (24 page)

After a minute she unscrewed her eyes and dared to look back at the figure on the slabs. The gun was hanging down at his side. Frankie knew he wouldn’t shoot, but this teenager either had
a death wish or had just called his bluff. Either way, he knew he had to try a different approach.

“Don’t be stupid, Celia. What’s the point of all this? Unless you’re Spiderman, I can’t see you getting out of this lake any other way but past me,” he said,
waving his gun around at the surrounding barricade of cliffs. “You’ll have to come out sometime and, when you do, I’ll be here, waiting for you.” He walked down the steps to
the bottom slabs and made himself comfortable, as if spectating a show.

He continued to call out to Celia as she struggled further out. “Why are you making things hard for yourself? I’m not going to hurt you. Look, I’ll put the gun down. I was just
trying to scare you. It’s not even loaded.” He laid the gun down and shrugged his shoulders. “Someone just wants a word with you – someone who can help you. I
promise.”

Celia didn’t respond; she was concentrating hard on keeping her head above the water and moving at the same time. She hadn’t managed to get far. Her artless stroke produced more
splashing than motion.

Frankie continued to work his way under her skin. “Look at you, Celia; this is painful to watch. You swim like a toddler. You’re going to get into trouble out there. Think about it.
It could be a hundred metres deep and you’re right in the middle. You could get cramp any minute, seize up and then...well, it would distress me to watch you drown.”

His words sailed over and tried to capsize her. They burrowed into her mind, causing it to dwell on the fathomless depths below her dangling legs. Her limbs flailed about; water lapped into her
mouth as quickly as she could spit it out. The reflection of the full moon illuminated the lake with a ghostly glow. Suddenly it seemed as vast as an ocean and there she was, an insignificant dot,
bobbing in the middle of it. She tried to concentrate on the mechanics of swimming, but the more she thought about it, the more it seemed impossible. Frankie kept up his psychological assault.

“Celia, you’re sinking. You’re not going to make it. Quickly! Swim back to me.”

Don’t let him get to you. Come on, Celia, block him out,
she ordered herself.

Seconds later, shaky, half-sung words from The Undertones’ teenage anthem began to rise from the lake.

Frankie roared with laughter. “You crazy kid! What are you doing?”

But Celia wasn’t listening. She continued singing “Teenage Kicks”, focusing only on her favourite song. Her arms and legs responding to the beat, her body started to move
across the lake and towards the reeds. She was pleased with herself, but there was no reason to celebrate yet. She knew a far bigger challenge lay ahead.

Celia skirted around the tall, brittle reeds and out of sight of her assailant. She trod water, catching her breath, as her eyes searched the rock face in front of her. It only
took a minute to locate the cluster of overhanging plants cascading out of the rock at her eye level. She thrust a hand through them and felt the freezing space concealed behind.

This is it,
she thought with trepidation. She brushed the camouflage aside to reveal the sliver of a tunnel. Her stomach churned as she peered into the endless darkness. It looked even
narrower than she remembered. How could she possibly put her body in there?

Frankie was looking over at the reeds. He’d lost sight of her but was unperturbed. “Come on, Celia, give me another song. I enjoyed that one,” he taunted. “Or are we
playing hide-and-seek now? Well, I’ll tell you what, why don’t I count to twenty and if you don’t show yourself, I’ll come in there and drag you out? One, two, three, four,
five...”

As his counting boomed out, Celia’s body prepared itself for action, like an athlete under starter’s orders. With white-knuckled hands, she gripped the mouth of the tunnel. Bobbing
down into the water, she then thrust up sharply, heaving her torso inside the slit. She lay there, face down. The slimy stone pressed hard against her exposed skin, the icy air chilled her wet
body. Her feet scrabbled in the water as she attempted to push the rest of her body up. At last, her whole body disappeared into the tunnel. The plants fell back over the entrance, entombing Celia
in pitch-black.

Frankie had heard the frenzy of splashes coming from behind the reeds. “You’d better not be drowning on me!” The silence that followed concerned him even more and he cursed as
he hurriedly stripped down to his underpants and vest. An almighty yelp echoed around the lake as he lowered himself into the bracing waters.

Celia lay on her stomach in the tunnel, paralysed by fear. She’d entered her own private hell. Her mind fixated on the tons of solid rock encasing her.
It’s going to collapse.
I’m going to be crushed to death
. Her chest tightened; she felt like there were hands squeezing her throat. She sensed the walls of the tunnel closing in. Her head knocked against the
roof as she lifted it to gulp in air.

A voice in her head screamed for her to back out now.
It doesn’t matter if he captures you, at least you’ll be alive. At least you won’t have to crawl through this.
But
another voice rose above it, shouting it down.
You’ve got to get through this tunnel. This isn’t just about you. You’ve got to save Sol. What good will you be to him if you get
caught? You can’t just leave him. Now get moving!

Defying every instinct in her body, her shaking frame began to slide deeper into the tunnel.

Frankie swam through the water like a hippo. He powered into the bed of reeds, using his arm to swipe through them like a scythe. But Celia wasn’t to be found. He looked around the still
surface and started to panic. Taking great gulps of air, he dived down, only able to see as far as the moonlight penetrated the dark waters. He dived again and again feeling around. But it was
futile. He should have gone in to get her sooner. He could have prevented this.
It may be hours before her body surfaces, if it ever does
, he thought grimly.

He trod water, panting noisily. He’d pushed himself too far. He felt his heart about to burst. He was convinced that he would be joining Celia in her watery grave.

Celia hadn’t progressed more than a couple of metres when she came to a sudden halt. Something was stopping her. She could hear the metal of her belt buckle scratching against the rock
beneath her waist. But the more she tried to move forward, the firmer the buckle became snared.

Frankie’s panting had eased and his ears tuned in to a scratching sound, which seemed to be coming from a nearby cluster of plants hanging off the rock face. He swam up to them and put his
ear against it.
There’s definitely something in there
, he thought, perplexed. As he grabbed the plants, they peeled away from the cliff, exposing the narrow entrance to a tunnel. He
peered into it, but his eyes were met by darkness. He held onto the entrance with one hand and thrust the other deep into the slit. All he could feel was icy air, but now the scratching sound was
louder, more frantic.

He rammed his shoulder hard against the entrance in his efforts to reach further into the tunnel. Celia let out a squeal as his fingertips found the sole of her trainer. He put his head into the
mouth of the icy tunnel, his triumphant voice deafening Celia. “That’s a great hiding place, Celia, but I’ve found you. I win, fair and square.”

He grabbed for her foot again, trying to get a proper hold on it. She had to get moving; she had to get the buckle free before his brute force dragged her out of there. She shook her foot as his
fingers grasped at it. She held her stomach in and edged an arm under her body. Her fingers were able to feel the buckle, snagged on a jagged rock, but she couldn’t dislodge it.

She felt his fingers closing firmly around her trainer. In desperation she rocked her whole body from side to side. Her hip bones ground painfully into the rock but she felt the buckle release.
Yet before she even had a chance to crawl forward, Frankie strengthened his grip on her foot and began to drag her back. She dug her fingers into the contours of the rock, fighting against his
pull. Grunting, she repeatedly kicked her foot against the side of the tunnel, battering and scraping Frankie’s hand on the rock, until he eventually released her with a pained growl.

As soon as she felt her foot was free she scrambled onwards, her fear of the tomb-like space supplanted by blind panic. She slid out of the tunnel with a gasp, like a baby taking its first
breath.

Frankie’s curses were replaced by a more conciliatory manner. “Hey, Celia, it must have taken some guts to crawl through there. Now let’s not kid ourselves; we both know that
there’s no way I can fit through to come and get you. But wherever you’ve just crawled through to, I’m betting you’re trapped, which means you don’t have many options.
You either crawl back out now or stay there and face a very slow, very painful death. If you haven’t got any water you’re looking at three days; water but no food, you could survive up
to three weeks, but you’ll go mad with the light deprivation and die of hypothermia first. No one knows you’re here, Celia. So let’s be sensible about this. Come back out and
we’ll sort something out.”

Celia didn’t answer, she hardly dared move, but she had to feel her way along the cave walls to the foot of the shaft. She felt for the foot holes. Frankie strained to decipher the
scrambling noises filtering through the tunnel; suddenly he realized the pursuit wasn’t over yet.

“Oh, I see! Have you got another way out? Well don’t worry, Celia; either way I’ll get you.”

Frankie’s voice made Celia want to scream, but he didn’t linger to torment her. He had to get to shore as quickly as possible. He pushed himself off from the rock, causing a tidal
wave as he swam back towards the slabs.

Her climb up the shaft was agonizingly slow. If she was too hasty and lost her footing Celia knew that she’d end up at the bottom of the shaft, with not a soul to come to her rescue. At
last she felt the makeshift cover above her. She pushed it clear and clawed her way out, collapsing on the forest floor, every fibre in her traumatized body begging to rest. But she knew it would
be fatal to stay there, so hauling herself off the ground, she staggered to the trees that lined the cliff top. From here she had a clear view of her pursuer as he dragged his dripping bulk out of
the lake. He threw on clothes that leeched onto the contours of his wet body and then climbed the steps before disappearing into the trees, heading in her direction. She could easily make it out of
the woods and away to safety before he had time to get anywhere near her. But Celia wasn’t even tempted to run; the only thought in her head was to save Sol.

She crept through the thick undergrowth, listening and watching; all her senses heightened like those of a hunted animal, freezing at the sound of every twig breaking, flinching at the rustle of
the trees, praying that the night air wouldn’t carry the stench of her fear to him. But with the fear came adrenalin and the last drops were secreting into her bloodstream.

A few minutes later she’d made it back to where Sol’s body remained crumpled on the ground, like a little boy in a deep sleep.

“Please be okay,” she whispered. But as she bent to touch him, something grabbed her from behind, lifting her off her feet. She let out a half formed scream that was silenced by a
huge gloved hand enveloping her face. Her arms were pinned to her sides, her head restrained. She kicked and kicked but made no impression on the immovable mound that held her.

Tape was slapped across her mouth and she was flung across shoulders like a captured animal. A hand closed around her wrists and another locked around her ankles. Her head dangled down, eyes
looking at the ground nearly two metres below.

Frankie turned his mouth to her ear. “I knew you’d come back for him. You should have got away while you had the chance.”

His tone was neither mocking nor threatening, it seemed heavy with genuine regret – and this made Celia all the more terrified.

Like on a bone-shaking fairground ride, Celia’s body was jolted up and down with every stride Frankie took on their path out of the woods. Once they neared the road, he
waited until there were no headlights approaching and then jogged to the car with his catch. He lowered her onto the back seat, which he’d covered with a plastic sheet. She flopped down,
grateful for the soft landing. He reached over to the front seat and produced a tracksuit top, which he offered to Celia.