“So how do we get out there without them seeing us?” Annaliese asked. “If we try to funnel out the window they’ll pick us off easy.”
Nick rubbed his forehead and formulated a plan quickly. “We deal with Shawcross the same way we dealt with those brain dead zombies at the bottom of the hill,” he said. “We distract him.”
Chapter Forty
Twenty minutes later, Nick watched Annaliese stroll over to the middle of the room and crouch down beside the severed orang-utan head. It was a tragic thing that even the park’s animals had been dragged into Shawcross’s megalomania.
“We’ll make him pay for Lily,” Nick said as he knelt down beside Annaliese. He rubbed her shoulders.
“No need,” Annaliese told him. “This isn’t Lily.”
“What? It’s an orang-utan, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but it’s not her. This is Brick.”
Nick frowned. “Brick?”
“Lily’s mate. He died when all this started. “They obviously cut off his head to mess with me; make me think it was Lily.”
Nick straightened up and sighed. “Shawcross has lost his mind. What is he even fighting for?”
“The self-esteem he’s always lacked,” Annaliese said, straightening up beside him. “He was a worthless little wretch before all this. This is his chance to finally be somebody. He’s starting as he means to go on. Power is not given, it is taken. That’s truer now than it’s ever been.”
“Then I guess it’s time to go to war,” said Nick. “We’re all clear on the plan? Does anybody need to go over it again?”
Everybody said, “No.” Renee just shook his head.
Nick got a good grip on the replica rifle with the nail in the end and took a deep breath. “Let’s do this, then.”
Renee handed Nick the bundle of keys he had found days ago beneath the bar. Nick was counting on one of the keys unlocking the hatch in the cellar. The rear of the building led out into a fenced-off yard that had not been barricaded or even paid much mind. It had been secure when the group arrived so there had been no need to alter it; which was why Nick was sure that it would offer a clear route out of the building without Shawcross seeing.
He bid the others goodbye and headed back down into the cellar. Draped over a two-wheeled keg trolley was his black woollen jacket. He tugged it on and pulled it over his shoulders. It would help him blend in with the night. Heart beating fast, he climbed up the rear stairs and came up against the horizontal hatch. He examined the steel lock that fixed the door to the frame and then looked at the keys in his hand. There was a medium-length key that seemed to be made of a similar tarnished-grey metal as the hatch. He singled it out and inserted it into the lock. It was a relief when it turned easily.
Let’s hope the rest of the plan goes as easily.
Nick moved his hands about the hatch, trying to figure out it’s workings without making too much noise. He discovered that it slid upwards on railings and he gently eased it back on its moorings.
The hatch was open. He climbed through.
The night seemed to flood over Nick like a living creature, a cold black mollusc clinging to his skin.
Glad I remembered my jacket, he thought as he climbed out into the fenced-off yard of the restaurant. He searched around and located a large, industrial wheelie bin. It was the perfect height for helping him over the fence. He quickly climbed on top of it, then eased himself up and over the top of the nearest fence. He dropped down on the other side and winced as his feet struck the unforgiving pavement.
I’m going to need a new pair of ankles after all this.
He was at the side of the restaurant towards the rear. He could hear Shawcross and his cronies conspiring nearby, but they were out of sight, which hopefully meant that so was he.
Got to keep it down.