The Perfect Girl

by Lorna Dounaeva

  “Ground floor,” said Fizz. “I think it’s this one.” She pressed the middle button but nothing happened.

  “Let me try,” said Sapphire. She pressed down hard. This time, the doors slammed shut, making them jump. The narrowness of the lift was even more constricting than the cellar. She could almost hear the beating of their collective hearts as it jerked into action then stopped again abruptly.

  “Come on!”

  She pressed the button again and it jerked back to life.

  “Hola!” it greeted them.

  “What was that?”

  “It’s just the lift,” said Fizz.

  The walls started to vibrate.

  “Hold on!” Sapphire hissed.

  The lift shot up to the top of the building, hovered there for a moment, then began to descend again, throwing the women around the lift. Ingrid reached up and pressed the middle button, but it didn’t seem to matter which button she pressed. The lift had a mind of its own.

  “Buenos dias!” it greeted them as the doors opened.

  “Is this the ground floor?” Sapphire asked, looking into the darkness.

  “I don’t know, but I’m getting out,” said Fizz, jumping clear.

  “We should all get out,” Ingrid said. “There’s safety in numbers.”

  Sapphire took a step forward but the lift had other ideas.

  “Adios!” it cried as the doors slammed in her face. She only just managed to jump back in time.

  “You should have held the doors open!” Ingrid said. They were moving at a rapid pace, leaving Fizz far behind.

  “No way!” said Sapphire. “I don’t trust this lift. I think it would have crushed me.”

  “I know you’re in there,” said a voice on the intercom.

  “That wasn’t the lift,” Ingrid said.

  “I know,” Sapphire replied.

  And then the lights went out.

  “It is Simon! Look, there he is!”

  Jock and Dylan watched the giant figure as he tugged on the ropes of a small narrowboat.

  “Is he mooring?” Jock asked.

  “No, I think he’s casting off. But where would he be going at this time of day?”

  “I didn’t even know he had a boat!” Jock said.

  “Nor did I. He’s never mentioned it.”

  “Maybe he’s just rented it.”

  “Maybe.”

  Jock swallowed. “You don’t think he could have Sapphire on board?”

  “Oh, please!”

  “Then where’s he going?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They watched as Simon started up his boat and set off upstream.

  “Come on; let’s follow him,” Dylan said.

  “But what if he sees us?”

  “With any luck, he won’t. Besides, I doubt he’d recognise my boat in this light. We’ll just hang back a bit, give him a chance to get going.”

  “Do you think we should?” Jock looked down into the murky waters of the canal and imagined himself flailing around, the weight of his clothing pulling him under. “I can’t swim,” he reminded Dylan.

  “It’s not like we’re going skinny dipping.”

  “I know, but it’s dark and we’re on the water …”

  “Here, put on a life jacket, if it makes you feel better.”

  Jock took the life jacket and pulled it on.

  “Shouldn’t we call the police?” he asked.

  “What are they going to do?” Dylan scoffed. “Arrest him for being too tall?”

  He started to follow Simon, keeping as far back as he could, without losing sight of his boat. The canal was alive in the darkness. Crickets sang from the rushes and small animals scampered in and out of the water.

  “Is this the fastest he can do?” Dylan complained. “We could walk faster than this.”

  “Look! He’s heading for the lock,” Jock said. The thought of navigating the deep waters filled him with fear. “Maybe we should go back.”

  “No, he’s slowing down,” Dylan said. “Look! He’s stopping.”

  “What, here?”

  “Use the binoculars,” Dylan said, pulling them out of the cubbyhole.

  Jock put them to his eyes. Simon had stopped in front of a row of derelict buildings: warehouses by the looks of it. There were no lights on and no signs of life.

  “It’s perfect,” Dylan said grimly, looking at the boarded-up buildings.

  “You think Sapphire’s in there?”

  “I don’t know. Why else would he come here?”

  They watched as Simon secured his boat and climbed out.

  “He’s going inside,” Jock said. “What shall we do?”

  “I think we should go inside.”

  Jock shivered. “We can’t just go in there!”

  “Maybe you can’t, but I can,” Dylan said. “It’s the only way to know for sure.”

  “But it might be dangerous!”

  “She might be in there, Jock. We can’t just sit around waiting. She might still be alive.”

  “I know …”

  “I’ll moor down here so he doesn’t see the boat,” Dylan went on. “I’ve got a rubber dinghy I can use to get to the warehouse. It should be easy enough to hide.”

  “No, wait!”

  “What?”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “I still think we should call the police,” he said, as Dylan pulled out the dinghy.

  “I’m telling you; they wouldn’t come. They can’t follow every lead.”

  Dylan checked the dinghy for punctures. “It could do with a bit of a pump,” he said. “But I think it will do.” He lifted it down into the water and climbed in.

  Jock watched him carefully. He couldn’t help wondering how much he had had to drink that day. If he got into the dinghy, he would be putting his life in Dylan’s hands. Could he trust him?

  “Alright, Jock?”

  Every nerve in Jock’s body screamed at him not to go, but then he thought of Sapphire, scared and alone. What if she was in that warehouse? What if she needed him?

  “Alright!”

  He took a deep breath and stepped down into the little boat. The dinghy swayed precariously as he sat down.

  “Careful,” Dylan warned, grabbing him just in time to stop him from toppling out the other side.

  “Thanks.” He gripped the side.

  It was harder than it had looked, rowing to the warehouse. No matter how hard they pulled, the canal seemed determined to take them in the other direction.

  “Right!” Dylan hissed. “Right!”

  “I’m going right.”

  “Other right!”

  All of a sudden, the boat spun round in a circle.

  “What’s happening?” gasped Jock.

  “It’s okay,” Dylan said. He stuck his oar in hard and punted them in the right direction.

  They rowed as hard as they could. Sweat dripped from Jock’s brow as he pushed his oar in again and again. Even Dylan fell quiet as he concentrated on rowing.

  “It’s not working,” Jock moaned. He was just about to give up when the wind gave them an unexpected shunt in the right direction. “That’s better! Nearly there!”

  “Come on, give it some welly!” Dylan hissed as they rowed the last few yards.

  Jock pulled on his oars until his arms burned with pain and they finally pulled in close enough for Dylan to grab the bank with his hands. He climbed out and hauled Jock onto the platform at the front of the building. “Careful! These planks look a bit rotten,” he warned. He pulled the boat out of the water using the oar and looked about for somewhere to hide it. The platform was littered with rusting junk, so it wasn’t too difficult. He set down a heavy pipe on top of it to stop it blowing away.

  The warehouse wasn’t any less creepy close up. There were no signs of Simon, aside from his boat. Yet he must be in there somewhere, in the darkness.

  “You don’t
carry a gun by any chance?” Jock whispered.

  “No,” said Dylan. “But that’s probably just as well. I’m a lousy shot.”

  “Good to know.”

  Dylan gripped him by the shoulder. “Jock, if you die, promise you’ll leave me your liver.”

  “What for? You’ll only drink your way through it.”

  “How did you get so judgmental?”

  Jock shrugged. He wondered if underneath all his bravado, Dylan was as scared as he was. No, he couldn’t be or they wouldn’t be doing this. Dylan was the one propelling them forward.

  “Do you think that’s where Simon got in?” Jock asked, pointing to a broken window.

  “Looks a bit tight for Simon, but it’ll do for us,” Dylan said. “Stand back a minute.”

  He took a loose plank and used it to knock out some of the remaining glass.

  “That’s better. No need to slit an artery.”

  Jock tried to smile but his heart was beating hard inside his chest. What if Simon had heard them? What if he was just inside, waiting for them?

  He watched as Dylan climbed inside. He seemed to have no problem contorting his body to just the right angle to avoid the sharp edges of the glass. Jock wasn’t sure it would be so easy for him.

  “Alright?” Dylan whispered.

  “Alright.” The jagged edges combed his back as he pulled himself through. Dylan guided him down onto a hard, wooden floor. He looked around, but all was black.

  “Now what?” he whispered.

  “Just listen.”

  “I can’t hear anything.”

  “Shh!”

  He sensed a presence. Someone or something was there. Dylan clapped a hand over his mouth, scaring him witless.

  “Sorry,” he whispered in his ear, “but I knew you’d scream like a girl.”

  “Get off me!”

  He shook Dylan off and fumbled in his pocket for his phone, only now thinking to use its light. He shone it around and saw some rusty old machinery. It looked like an old factory. There were still overalls hanging from the pegs and an old crisp packet lay on the floor. There were lockers, too – signs that the warehouse had once been a big, bustling business.

  “Shine your light over here,” Dylan said.

  Jock watched as he knelt down and touched the dusty floor with the tip of his finger. He brought the finger up to his mouth and for a moment, Jock thought he was going to lick it. Instead, he sniffed.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Rats,” Dylan replied.

  “Ugh!” Jock shuddered. “Is that what smells so bad?”

  “Probably. Shine your light a bit more to the left. No, other left. There! Look! There’s a lift. The question is, do we trust it?”

  “Quick! Stop it!” Sapphire cried, as the lift began to accelerate upwards. Any minute, the lift was going to reach its destination, delivering them into the hands of the May Queen Killer. She had to do something.

  Ingrid jabbed at the buttons, but to no avail. The lift continued to climb.

  “For God’s sake! Do something!”

  “I’m trying!”

  The lights flickered off and on, off and on.

  “We’re stopping!”

  The doors seemed to wrench themselves open. Three hungry pairs of eyes met theirs.

  “Rottweilers!” Sapphire cried.

  In the background, she heard the sound of laughter, but there was no time to focus on it. The dogs growled, their noses twitching as they surveyed their prey. Sapphire swallowed. She had met Rottweilers before, but those had been well-groomed and friendly. It was hard to believe that these beasts were the same species. These dogs were ugly. There was no other word for it. Their eyes were huge and shiny and their filthy fur was knotted and patchy. There was something deeply primal about them. Looking into their eyes, it was as if history had been rewritten and the peaceful coexistence between man and dog had never happened. She jabbed the button frantically. The lift doors closed then opened again and the dogs bared their yellow teeth.

  She still had the ham sandwich, she realised. She pulled it from her pocket and threw it as far as she could. The two larger dogs dived for it. The smallest could only watch as they pulled it to pieces. Ingrid retreated to the back of the lift and Sapphire would have done the same, but someone needed to press the button.

  The dogs devoured the sandwich in seconds. Then the largest one licked its thick, brown lips and walked slowly towards her. It looked as suspicious of her as she was of it.

  “Easy,” she said gently, hoping to calm the dog down with her voice.

  “Nice dog! Staaay!”

  The dog looked at her with contempt and swiped at her with its paw. She jumped back and to her amazement, the lift door closed. Too fast for the dog, though. Its paw was trapped.

  “We’re moving!” Ingrid squealed.

  “What about the dog?”

  They watched in morbid fascination as the trapped paw remained jammed in the door. It slid down, down, down as the lift rose and the dog howled in pain. Sapphire pressed the button, but nothing happened. She kicked at the door with her foot, but they had risen too high now. Her stomach churned. Even though the dog had been about to attack them, it didn’t deserve such a brutal punishment. But there was nothing she could do. The lift had a mind of its own and no amount of jabbing the buttons made any difference.

  32

  The lift jumped wildly as it moved. The dog’s paw lay in a grisly red puddle on the floor. Sapphire couldn’t bear the sight of it; yet it was hard to look away.

  “Do you think we’ve reached the top?” Ingrid asked, as the lift ground to a halt.

  “It seems so,” Sapphire said. But the doors refused to open.

  “We’ll have to kick the doors in,” Ingrid said. She gave them a kick but the second her foot made contact with the door, the lift began to plummet. They fell to the floor and the severed paw rolled from corner to corner as they bumped their way down. The lights flashed on and off and on again.

  “We’re going back down to the cellar,” Sapphire said.

  “No!” cried Ingrid. “I can’t go back there!”

  For a moment, her ice-blue eyes swam with tears. “I want to go home.”

  “We will,” Sapphire promised. She pulled herself up and pressed the buttons for all she was worth. She had no idea which floor was which anymore.

  The doors opened again without warning.

  “Can you see anything?” Ingrid whispered.

  “No. Let’s get out,” Sapphire said. “Quickly, before the lift moves again.”

  Ingrid took her hand. Together, they stepped out of the lift and into the unknown.

  “Can you hear anything?” Ingrid whispered.

  They stood in silence for a moment. But there was nothing. No footsteps, no barking. Just the creaking of the lift as it moved away. They were in a long corridor, different from the one they had been in earlier – lighter, probably because there were more windows. Sapphire peered out but all she could see was the dark water of the canal below. It seemed a long, long way down. Definitely too far to jump. She listened, her ears alert for the sound of dogs or voices, but all was still.

  “What are we going to do?” whispered Ingrid.

  “We need to find a way out,” Sapphire said. “There must be a better way than this.”

  She gripped Ingrid’s arm tightly.

  “Come on! This way!”

  “Looks like a kitchen,” Ingrid said, as they approached a large, tiled room fitted with a sink unit and cupboards. It looked newer than the rest of the warehouse, as if it had been added on as an extension. A pile of washing up lay on the draining board and an upturned cup spilt its contents, drip by drip down the counter and onto the floor.

  Sapphire went to the sink and turned on the tap. “There’s water!” she hissed. She filled her cupped hands and drank, again and again until her belly was full. “Aren’t you thirsty?” she asked Ingrid when she came up for air.

  Ingrid
was opening and closing cupboards. “I thought there might be something to eat.”

  Sapphire joined her in her search, pulling open the cupboard nearest to her, but it contained only dust.

  “They’re all the same,” Ingrid said. “Not a scrap of food in any of them. No wonder Claire never brings us much. Hey, what’s that?”

  “What?”

  “That noise.”

  “I can’t hear any–” The words were barely out of her mouth when the door burst open. She saw a wet nose. And then a snout. The dog’s hair stood up on end as it entered.

  “No!”

  Sapphire dived into the far corner, crouching behind the large, steel bin. Ingrid dove behind the door. The dog sniffed the air. The game was up.

  Dylan pressed the button to call the lift. It took a couple of minutes, but then the doors opened.

  Jock peered in. He felt a bit like he was sticking his head in a shark’s mouth. “Maybe we should take the stairs?” he said.

  “Did you see the stairs? Dylan asked. “They looked completely gutted. There must have been a fire here at some point. Maybe that’s why the building was abandoned.”

  “So should we get in the lift?”

  “Absolutely not,” said Dylan. “I want to make sure it’s working.”

  He stepped inside, pressed one of the buttons and then jumped out again before the door closed. They waited a few minutes as it went off to another floor then Dylan pressed the button to call it back again. It returned like a dog with a bone.

  “Now what?” asked Jock.

  “Now we can get in.”

  “Which way do we want to go? Up or down?” Jock asked, looking at the burnt-out buttons.

  “Up,” Dylan said with certainty. “We start at the top.”

  The doors made a horrific grating sound as they closed and the lights flickered on and off.

  “It’s like a metal cage,” Jock said as the lift inched slowly upward.

  Their progress was very slow, as if someone were pulling them up on a rope.

  “Brr!” A chill breeze blew down Jock’s neck. He moved away, but he didn’t seem to be able to escape it, no matter where he stood in the lift.

  “Can’t you feel that?” he asked Dylan.