WILL TIME WAIT: Boxed set of 3 bestselling 'ticking clock' thrillers (54 page)

Has
he seen me?  Is he bluffing?

To
hell with it! 
I don’t take orders from anyone anymore.  You’re
not getting me without a fight.
 

I
scurried ahead and concentrated.  Which way was the back exit to the park?
 On reaching the first opening on the platform – a rope ladder that led
down to the forest floor - I hesitated and glanced around.  Another
platform lay ahead, only visible in the blackness because its trunk was lit up
with blue lights. 
Is this the route to the back exit?
 
Yes.  It had to be.  The platform was probably a fifteen-second run
through the bushes at top speed.

Fifteen? 
Hell, even one second on the ground would be too long with a gunman at my
heels. 

Should
I?  Yes?  No?

If
I went for it, I’d probably get shot before I touched the ground.  But
even if I made it, the thought of running out on the others weighed me
down.  I couldn’t just save myself. 

We
were all in it together.  Determination dried my tears.  I was no
longer the old Jenna, or maybe she never was the true me.  I had risen out
of my darkness, could not and would not abandon my friends. 

Never. 

Geordie
was a cold-blooded murderer.  He intended to kill us all.  So I had
to be stronger and braver to beat him.  Make them think I’d made it out of
the park and then...  improvise. 

I
sat up, straightened my spine and racked my sizzled brain.  If I could get
the guy who was chasing me to believe I’d got away, then he’d give up hunting
me.  I’d have time to create a distraction.  Yes, that’s it! 
But what?  A fire, a sound... something big to lure the gangs away from
Kate.

L
eaves rustled
nearby.  I took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh earthy scent of nature
and crawled ahead.  Wood creaked.  Then something scraped and hooked
my ankle.  I turned onto my back and screamed. 

A
dripping-wet, dark-haired man stood balanced on the tree ladder, one hand
clamped around my ankle, the other pointing a gun.

Oh,
crap.  He had seen me.  It wasn’t a bluff.

I
kicked and writhed in a frenzy, and somehow managed to boot him in the
face.  His head jerked back.  He started falling away from the
ladder.  I drew my leg back to kick him again.  He fell away from the
platform and the gun went off.

Scorching
pain tore through my leg.  I screamed.  I leaned forward and gripped
my calf.  Jesus!  Blood poured out, soaking my jeans and covering my
hands.  Agony ripped through my whole body.  I tensed and yelled,
panicking.

I
squeezed my hand around the wound, the searing pain nearly paralyzing me. 
My stomach churned.  I fought off waves of nausea threatening to rob me of
my consciousness.  I had to act fast before the guy came back to finish
the job.

I
gritted my teeth.  Using the knife, I sawed and hacked at the ropes of the
tree ladder.  It took strength I did not know I had, but with forceful cuts,
while crying in pain, the top section folded down on itself.  The knife
slid out of my blood-slippery hand.  It fell down into the shrubs
below.  Damn it.  I had no other weapon.

I
shuffled on my bottom away from the ledge, dragging my bleeding leg.  I
just hoped that the guy was dead, or at least knocked out.  My leg hurt
too much to lean forward to check on him. 

Breathing
fast, I untied the blood-soaked bandage from around my ankle.  I folded it
into a shorter, stronger length, and then yanked my belt out of the loop holes
in my jeans.  Shuddering in agony like I’d never experienced before, I bit
down on the leather strap and tied the bandage around my leg below the
knee.  A waterfall of tears streamed down my face.  My hands trembled. 
I took five short breaths, steeled myself and yanked the makeshift tourniquet
tight in one fast pull.

God! 
It hurt like a bitch.  Gut-wrenching. 

I
dug my teeth harder into the leather, groaning while I knotted the fabric to
secure it.  My body caved.  Spots whizzed in all directions before my
eyes, making the world look twisted.  My head slammed against my
shoulder.  Had I passed out? 

No
time to think. 

I
fought against the blackness in my head.  I cried, breathing fast and
shallow.  I needed to get it together.

I
slid along the planked platform floor on my bottom, dragging my leg, struggling
to quench my lungs.  My head felt ready to explode.  My leg burned,
felt stiff and leaden.  I wanted to tap out, curl up and cry, but I
couldn’t let those creeps get their way.  Not after all they’d done and
put us through. 

Think
hard!
 
There must be something up here I could use to create a distraction. 
Something to ensure no one else came gunning for me, and to give the others a
chance to grab Kate.  I stopped shuffling as it hit me.  The fire
extinguisher! 

I
recalled someone saying there was one on Platform Three.  That platform
now had my name on it!

I
rolled over onto my belly and pulled myself along with my hands, pushed with my
good leg.  The planks creaked beneath me.  I moved past one small and
another decent sized branch which must have broken off in last night’s storm.
 The larger one was chunky and almost a metre in length.  Perfect.
 That could do some damage.

I
picked them up and flung the smallest into the bushes toward the platform I
should have been running to.  The guy would probably not fall for the same
trick again, but it was worth a try.  If he was not dead, no doubt he’d be
back.  Twice as angry.  

Hearing
little more than crunching and pattering, I took a risk and went for it.

High
on adrenaline and cold with fear, I staggered to my feet and limped using the
log as a crutch.  It hurt.  God!  My calf burned so bad I nearly
vomited and wanted to knock myself out.  But so long as I was alive, I had
to battle to stay that way, and push ahead to provide back up for my
friends. 

Awkwardly,
I negotiated another shaky bridge until I reached tree platform number three;
larger than the others and marked by a white spray-painted numeral on the
trunk.  It felt wonderful to stand on something that didn’t swing, judder
or bounce.  I slumped to my bottom, set the log down at my side and
stretched my leg out.  I filled my burning lungs and then unclipped my
radio.  “Dylan, can you hear me?"  I paused my whispers, but got
no reply.  Perhaps he could hear, but it wasn’t safe to speak.  I
continued talking quietly on the off chance that he was listening, while
praying that my voice, pouring out of his radio, would not give away his location. 
"I’m on the third platform. Someone was after me.  I’ve been
shot.  It’s my leg.  I think I knocked him out, but—” I glanced left
and right. “—I’m not sure.  I-I’m gonna try to create—”

The
radio squealed.

“Dylan?”
 I held my breath.  A crunch of leaves came from below.

“Jesus! 
I’m coming for you,” Dylan replied, his voice so quiet I had to press the radio
to my ear. “The cops are on their way.  Have you lost much blood? 
Can you still move?”

“I’m
not sure I can.  It hurts, Dylan.”

“I
know.  Jen, please, just listen to me.  I need you to turn around, go
down the ladder and get out of there.”

“B-but
the ladder, I just cut it.”

“Find
a way down.  Head for the next platform and take the wire to the back
exit.  If he comes back...”  He paused.  “Just move it!  You’ll
be cornered if you stay where you.  There are guys crawling all over the
place here and I’m not sure I’ll get to you in...”

His
whispers faded further as the radio slipped in my bloodied hand.  It
landed on my lap.  “Oh, Christ.  Oh, crap.  I can’t hear
you.” 

He
raised his voice.  "Whatever you do, don't go any further along—”

I
wiped my hand and grabbed the radio.  "Dylan?  Dylan?"

Several
angry and jumbled voices came barely audible through the radio before it cut
off.  Dylan didn’t speak again.

I
clipped it back onto my belt.  I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs
in pain and fear, but I had to push on.  Screaming would not help
Dylan.  Nor would it save me.  Only I could do that.  I was on
my own and refused to let pain or simmering nerves hold me back.

After
picking up the log, I searched my surroundings, stared in the direction of
every sound.  Nothing struck me as particularly close by.

Still
clutching the log, I crawled ahead.  I hid behind the tree trunk facing
the gap in the platform where the big zipper wire began, trying to work out my
next move.  I scanned the shadows for the extinguisher.  It would be
pressurised, right?  Perhaps I could find some way to blow it up.  If
I could have grabbed that guy’s gun, perhaps shooting it would do the
trick.  I wasn’t sure.  I sighed, annoyed by my faltering
brain. 

I
squeezed the safety railing, leaned forward and peered down.  Oh, crap.
 I was nine or ten metres off the ground, at least.   No ladder
– double crap – just blue fairy lights wrapped the length of the trunk. 
Head whirling, I shuffled away.  I pressed my back against the tree and
focused on the wooden railing in front.  Something real.  Something
at eye level to stop my head spinning.  

If
that guy was still on the hunt for me, this zipline could be my only exit, but
an exit deeper into danger.  

The
thought upturned my gut while I swept the shadows for movement.

Stay
calm, Jenna.
 I massaged my leg and forced slow, long breaths.

I
had four choices.  All equally frightening.  Stay put, go back to the
severed ladder, risk dropping to the ground, and either hide out in the bushes,
or run for that other platform and use the zipwire to reach the back
exit. 

Who
was I trying to kid?  I stared down at my wounded leg, certain of one
thing; I would not be able to run anywhere on this. 

I
shot my gaze up to the long thin wire running overhead; option four.

I
had ziplined once before on a practice wire - not wanting Dylan to know I was
frightened of heights, or rather, terrified of not having my feet on something
solid and stable.  Every leg-dangling second had been a stomach-rocking
horror.  It reminded me of when Alan pushed me over the landing banister
at home and held me there.  But that zipline with Dylan was in the bright
of day, not at night and alone, and certainly not this high up, with armed men
looking to put holes in me.

Steve’s
voice whipped out from my radio, disengaging me from my thoughts.  I
placed it on the floor so I could listen while examining my leg.

“Oh,
hell,” Steve barked, worrying me further.  “We've got more company. 
Another Land Rover's just pulled into the car park.  Everyone clear
out!  Now!”

I
flinched and knocked the radio across the platform.  I reached out, but it
slipped out of my bloody fingers. 

Steve’s
voice faded as the radio bounced toward the platform edge.  “Leave Kate to
me.  I'm gonna just go for it and—“ 

I
stuck my hand between the spindles, but the radio fell to the ground.

T
ime to
leave. 

Fighting
weakness, I gritted my teeth and used the branch to get to my feet.  Go
now.  As I scrambled up, the eerie creak of wood close by arrested me.
 Was someone coming?  I slumped back on my bottom and pain zipped up
my leg. 

Steeling
myself, I risked a look and poked my head around the tree trunk.  The same
dark-haired guy was climbing up the side of the platform, breathing hard. 
His hands curled around spindles on the railing, about to haul himself to the
top.  

I
slammed myself behind the tree before he caught sight of me.  My entire
body poured sweat.  He was back.  Of course he was.  My friends
and I were worth more to him dead – irresistible tickets to avoid losing years
of his life in jail, no doubt crowned by dirty backhander pay cheques from
Geordie.  How did things end up like this?  My life had reduced to
mere numbers. 

“Come
out, sweet little thing,” he said in a sugary coaxing voice.  “I know
you’re still up here.  Where ya gonna go?”

A
mental fog blanked my brain.  I was cornered, physically wrung out and
inwardly drained.  But I had to snap myself alert.

The
planked floor creaked again, only louder this time, even closer. 

"Having
fun up here?" he asked. 

I
flinched. 

“Party
in the park for two?  Have you missed me?  Did you bring wine?”

I wrapped
my fingers tight around the log and positioned it over my shoulder, prepared to
swing.  A footstep.  Then another.  My heart felt like a ball of
fire inside my chest. 

“Is
that your leg I can see?” he called.  “Nasty things those bullets. 
Let me help you.”  A heartbeat later, he stuck his shadowed head around
the tree and pointed his gun at my face.  “Gotcha!”   

I
swung the log and whacked him across both kneecaps. 

He
yelled and fired.  A gunshot punched the forest.  Startled, I dropped
the log.  He fell on top of me, straddling me with his knees.  His
face came so close I smelled smoke on the breath blasting in my face.

We
locked gazes.  A blink later, the guy’s jaw tightened.  I had to act
now or he would kill me.  I clamped onto the log as he raised his hand to
my face. 

The
gun sat tight in his balled fingers, pointed between my eyes. 

Fear
choked me and I froze.  Cross-eyed with panic, I saw double; two
transparent guns.  Ghostly barrels aimed at each of my eyes. 

He
pulled back on the trigger. 

I
shut my eyes and...

Click.
 

Then
another.

“Fuck!”
he snarled.

Click.

My
breath left me in a rush.  What the hell?

Alive,
but barely believing it, I scuttled backwards on my bottom.  My legs were
almost out from under him when he grabbed me again. 

“Help!”
I screamed.  “Someone heeeelp.“

He
dragged me back by my jeans and pinned my elbows to the platform floor,
crushing them with his heavy knees.  “You’ve caused a bitch of a headache
today!”  He hit my face with the gun, knocking my head to the side. 

I
cried out.

His
meaty fingers came up to my swirling head again, but then slid down over my
chin, neck, and then my breasts. 

“No!”
I cried.  I thought he was about to rip my top off, but he didn’t. 

He
gripped my throat with his meaty hands and squeezed.  

I
gagged and writhed around beneath him, jerking and convulsing to shake him
off.  My face pounded, hot and tight.  My jaw throbbed, and my
windpipe was caving under his thumbs as I toiled for breath. 

“Bitch!” 
He shifted his weight and my arm came free. 

My
elbow bumped something rough and solid.  The log.  I grabbed
it.  Tensing my arm, I mustered every morsel of strength within me and
swung. 

It
struck the side of his head.  He rolled off me, groaned and pressed a hand
over his ear which dripped blood.   

I
was free.  Yes!  Wasting no time, I scurried away and wobbled to my
feet, drawing huge gulps of air into my sore throat. 

I
gritted my teeth and tried to kick and roll him off the platform, but
couldn’t.  I found just enough strength to crack him on the back a few
times with the butt of the log before I could no longer grip it.  He
dropped on his belly, shrieking in pain. 

My
body pounded and pulsed as I dragged my leg around him, registering my exits.

He
tried to roll over.  I saw the hatred in his slit eyes.  His features
creased with pain.  He started after me but slumped again, sprawled at a
diagonal, blocking my way.

I
stared, jittering.  Was he knocked out?  Still breathing?  Even
if I could pass him, I would not make it far on one leg.

There
was no other choice. 

If
he came to, I’d have to overcome my fear or stay trapped on the platform with
him.  I limped to the edge, stretched my arm up and found the cable
overhead.  With a shaking hand, I grabbed the metal pulley off my belt,
clipped it onto the zipwire and, amazingly, secured the straps of my harness to
it on the second fumble.  
I can do this. 
I glanced down at
the sheer drop behind me and shuddered. 

A
raucous laugh burst out of his mouth.

He’s
conscious?  Shocked, I turned to him.

“So
you’re gonna slide down there, are ya?”  While rising to all fours, his
eyes rolled up to me.  His sinister grin widened and he gave me an evil
wink.  “Good luck with that,” he said with a flick of his hand. 
“I’ll tell the boss you’re on your way down to him.”  He wiped the blood
on his cheek, smearing it like camouflage paint.  His filthy gaze wandered
over my body like he was undressing me with his eyes.  “Maybe I should
gift wrap you for him!”

My
breath caught.  Red warning lights flashed inside my fraying brain.
 
He was right.  Unless Geordie was dead, he would take one look at me
speeding overhead and empty his gun into my body.  I was trapped, knew it
and hated it.

“Back
up or I swear I’ll...” I said, terrified but determined not to show it.  I
ached to kick him, but knew my shot leg wouldn’t support my weight.  It
would buckle sending me sliding down to Geordie on the wire, with invisible red
ribbon tied around me and finished with a bow. 

Whatever
I chose I’d be dead, unless I had a weapon... his gun! - if it still
worked.  “Stay the fuck away from me.”  I scanned the platform.

“Ooh! 
Tough talk.  I like it.”  He sat back on his heels, cupped his groin
and gave it a quick shake. 

I
almost threw up.

After
removing his hand from his groin, he pressed his fist into his other palm and
squeezed his knuckles.  A succession of cracking sounds made me
cringe. 
Is he gearing up to punch me down to Geordie?

No. 
He bent down and whipped the stun gun out of his boot.

I shivered
recalling the paralyzing pain, and then stared into his eyes.  “To hell
with you!”  I gripped the railing for support, and raised my leg to boot
his groin.
 

He
dodged sideways and laughed. 

I
flinched at the snorty, evil sound, wishing him dead, wishing everyone who’d
ever hurt me dead.  My leg gave way and I lost my footing.  For a
long, scary second, I felt myself falling backwards.  Oh, shit!  The
breath squeezed out of my lungs.  Arms flailing, I slammed my good leg
back down but my trainer slipped off the platform’s edge.  My stomach
plummeted.  The harness yanked tight around my thighs as it took my
weight.  The pulley jerked into motion, and I started gliding away from
the ledge.  

The
man lurched forward and threw a bloodied hand out.  His fingers encircled
my ankle and locked on my good leg.

The
pulley jerked to a stop.  He held me there, grinning.  A prize catch
suspended on the wire, bobbing around, snared.  

“As
much as my boss would love doing you in,” he said, grinning as blue sparks
jumped between the pins on the gun.  “
I’m
gonna take that
pleasure.”  No flicker of doubt in his eyes. 

All
I’d ever wanted was to have a chance at life again.  This sicko was
determined to rip that away. 

My
body buzzed with years of rage.  

Men
like this should never be allowed to father children.  That would be my
parting gift to him! 

While
desperately kicking to rupture his manhood, something glinted in the moonlight
on my right.  A splash of vibrant red caught my eye.  The fire
extinguisher was hooked to a spindle on the outside of the railing. 

A
late, but super-sweet discovery.

Standing
up, he reeled me in. 

I
yanked the extinguisher off its housing, and pointed it at him.  “Screw
you!” Hatred snaked itself around my words.  Breathless, I squeezed the
trigger. 

A
cone of white powder plumed over him.  He dug his fingernails into my
ankle, coughed and flapped his other hand about his face, dropping the stun
gun.   

I
drew back the leg he was holding and tried to boot him blindly.  Enveloped
in a cloud of white, he hunched over and my ankle slipped free of his
grip.  I hooked the toe of my trainer around a wooden spindle to stop
myself sliding away, and raised the extinguisher.  My bloody leg dangled,
part-numbed by adrenaline but otherwise a useless weight.  I whacked him
on the top of the head.  There was a gruesome dull crack.  He
stumbled forward, lost balance and then toppled off the edge.  He
plummeted head-first like an oversized sandbag, yelling the whole way.

A
dull thud ended his cries.

I
shifted my weight to pull myself back to the platform.  The pulley jerked
and my foot slipped from around the spindle.  The platform disappeared.

“Shit!”
I yelled, throwing a hand out to the railing.

Too
late.

My
heart went airborne.  My pulse skyrocketed.  And I was gliding about
ten metres above the ground, on the big zipper.

Breath
panted out of me.  I threw a hand up to clasp the strap of my harness and
held on with panicked tightness, keeping the extinguisher tucked under my other
arm.  My stomach vaulted.  Bile burned its way up my throat,
spreading its sharpness across my tongue. 

Leaves
and trees blurred together, a mash of spiky shadows zooming past me.  Wind
gushed cold over my neck, flapping my hair around my face as I flew backwards.
 Seized by jolts of fright, I stiffened and shook while gaining speed in
the darkness. 

“Are
you insane?”  John yelled from the woods.  He must have been running
for the exit.  

I
was.  Insane.  Nothing about this moment felt right or real.  I
was here, yet somehow I wasn’t. I’d either swallowed one giant trippy mushroom,
or a raw force had swept through my mind, bending and morphing reality.  

I
snatched in shallow breaths.  
How the hell did I get here?

My
pulse pounded in fast beats down every rattling limb.  The air, clean and
cold on my tongue, roused me enough to glance over my shoulder.

I
saw the fire.
  Oh, Jesus.
 
This can’t be happening.

I
was about to pass over the heads of the men who were after me.  The most
dangerous place I could be, probably making myself the easiest open-air target
Geordie had ever seen.

I
steeled myself as the last few metres clocked by.  Joe huddled next to
Geordie near the fire, showing him something.  My mobile? 

The
fire crackled and burned below, flames licked the night sky.  This was it.
 Geordie would hear the raspy sound of the wire and spot me any
second. 

I
entered a column of heat, sucked in what I thought might be my last breath, and
closed my eyes when a man shouted, “Up there!  Shoot her!”  

But
then, Dylan yelled out from the woods.  “Like hell you will!”

I
snapped my eyes open just as he swooped into the clearing, swinging from a
rope.  And boy was I thrilled at the sight!  He slammed feet first
into two men then dropped to the ground.  Dylan grabbed bandaged-guy and
hoisted him up as I flew over them. 

I
tilted forward and belted the guy’s head with the extinguisher. 

He
fell to the ground, but the others closed in on Dylan. 

The
men circled him like wolves on a kill, making my body feel like dynamite about
to detonate.  

“Dylan!”
I cried. 

Then,
John burst out of the trees beneath me and knocked Geordie to the ground. 
He punched two more men in the gut freeing Dylan and, instantly, I could
breathe again. 

"Joe!"
Kate screeched from behind the bench.  "Help us.  You don’t have
to be one of them!"

Joe
stared at Kate and then up at me, his face locked in a grimace.  Our
lengthening gaze broke when sirens sounded in the distance.  The police
were coming, but would it be too late?