The Truth About Celia Frost Read online

  “Take her back to where she belongs,” came the enigmatic answer. “Now for God’s sake, get her before it’s too late.”

  As Frankie sprinted towards the Bluebell Towers, Celia was making her way unsteadily down the stairs. She called Sol’s number. His voice jumped on her with relief.

  “Celia! What have you been doing? You said you’d call me.”

  “Are you feeling okay?” Celia asked, her voice vague, spaced out.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about. What’s going on? I’m coming over to see you.”

  “No, you can’t. I don’t want you to. I need to be alone, have some time to think what to do.”

  “What are you on about? What’s happened?” Sol said anxiously.

  “Sol – everything’s changed.” Celia’s voice cracked. “You’ve got to keep away from me; everyone’s got to keep away from me.”

  “Celia, you’re not making any sense. I’m coming over,” he said, finishing the call before she could protest.

  Celia turned off her phone and quickened her step down the stairs.

  Frankie slowed to walking pace as he entered the courtyard of the tower blocks, aware of the CCTV cameras. His eyes scoured the area, but there was no sign of her. He’d been quick, maybe she hadn’t left the building yet. He entered the starkly lit lobby of Tower Two and looked up at the numbers above the two lifts. One displayed a 10, but the other was showing it was on the twentieth floor – Celia’s floor.

  Could she still be up there? Frankie wondered. Maybe Janice persuaded her to come back.

  He hesitated, debating what would be his best course of action. He looked like he had a nervous twitch, his head jerking back and forth between the lift displays and the outside courtyard. He deliberated for a few seconds more; if he’d missed her, he didn’t have any leads on where she might be heading, so what could he lose by going up to the flat and checking out if she was still there? Yes, decision made! He pressed the button to call the lift. It seemed to reach him so quickly, he wondered if it was in free fall.

  The doors pinged open and he entered the empty box, pressing the button for the top floor. A stinking yellow liquid sloshed around his feet. The doors began to judder shut. He momentarily looked up from the foul substance, only to see a figure crossing the lobby and passing out into the courtyard, the flash of orange hair unmistakable.

  Frankie reacted immediately, thrusting his foot into the wafer-thin opening, but the doors continued to close, regardless of the obstruction. He dragged his foot out before it was completely crushed. He hit the button to open the doors but they ignored the command and sealed tight shut. He punched 1, 2, 3, 4, desperate to stop the lift’s ascent, but all to no avail. The lift creaked and squealed its way slowly and painfully, like an arthritic old man, on its unstoppable mission to reach the highest floor.

  “Who the hell takes the stairs from the twentieth floor?!” he fumed, kicking the wall of his stinking cage.

  Sol’s bike weaved through the passageways towards Bluebell Towers. As he took a sharp corner he slammed on his brakes, skidding to a stop. In the distance, walking towards the main road, he spotted Celia. He shouted out to her, “Celia, wait up!”

  He wasn’t sure whether she heard him or not, but she didn’t turn around or even hesitate as she continued onwards. She disappeared around a corner and Sol went racing after her, but as the main road came into view he saw where she was heading. The last bus into the city sat at the stop opposite, its engine ticking over. The bus driver folded up his newspaper and the doors hissed open to let Celia on. She made her way past the smattering of other late night passengers and sat on the back seat. Sol shot out across the road and banged on the window, shouting. “Celia – where are you going? Why won’t you talk to me?”

  Wordlessly, she pressed the palms of her gloved hands against the window and looked at him with such sorrowful eyes that he felt an overwhelming sense of dread. The bus crunched into gear and moved off. Sol shouted hopelessly after it.

  Meanwhile, a furious Frankie Byrne had extricated himself from the lift and was sprinting back towards his car as fast as his heavy frame would carry him. He didn’t have a clue where to look next. He briefly listened in to Janice to see if he could pick up any leads, but only sobbing filled the airwaves. He had no better option than driving around the estate, keeping his eyes peeled.

  He knew that every minute that passed decreased his chances of finding her. His car crawled around the estate, passing bored gangs and loud drunks. He reached the junction which led onto the main road. He glanced both ways before pulling out, slamming on the brakes as a boy riding an unlit bike came tearing out of nowhere. The boy’s skinny legs were pumping the pedals like a maniac, his teeth were gritted, and he was concentrating so hard that he didn’t even notice the car that had nearly ploughed into him. Frankie’s hand hovered over the horn, but he stopped as the boy’s face was momentarily illuminated as he sped under a street light.

  “I know that face. It’s her friend, the boy in the cafe. Now where’s he going in such a hurry?” A hopeful glint appeared in Frankie’s eyes as he watched Sol’s progress down the road.

  Frankie followed at a discreet distance, letting other cars pass. The boy’s pace was relentlessly fast as he powered along the tarmac. Cars beeped angrily as their headlights fell on the reckless cyclist shrouded in darkness.

  Frankie calculated that they’d gone about five kilometres and was convinced that the boy must be heading all the way into the city, but then, without warning, Sol swerved off the road and bumped his way across one of the surrounding fields. Frankie pulled over and jumped out of the car. The boy was heading straight for a wood. Frankie must have passed it on his journey to and from the city; but he hadn’t paid any attention to the sprawling area. He couldn’t afford to lose sight of the boy if there was a chance he would lead him to Celia. He opened the glove compartment and prised away its false back to reveal the small chamber behind. He pulled on a pair of leather gloves and wrapped his hand around the cold metal of the gun concealed in the chamber. Then, from out of the boot, he grabbed a weighty rucksack and slung it over his shoulders, before yomping after the disappearing boy.

  Sol abandoned his bike at the treeline and picked his way through the woods. The moonlight struggled to penetrate the tree canopy, but the darkness wasn’t an obstacle to Sol. He knew this place too well and within minutes he’d reached the discreet hole under the wire fencing. He slithered under as effortlessly as a snake. Even though he’d lost sight of the bus within minutes of pursuing it, Sol was convinced that Celia would be heading for the flooded quarry. He felt it in his bones.

  Frankie Byrne was surprisingly light-footed when necessary and he stalked his prey through the woods like a nimble ballerina. Only the hooting of an owl disturbed the eerie quiet. His night-vision goggles were trained on the green figure cutting in and out of the trees ahead of him. He ducked behind a thick tree trunk and watched as the lithe boy slid under the fence and continued deeper into the woods. As soon as Frankie dared, he got out a pair of pliers from his rucksack and snipped the wire, before pulling it apart to form a gap that he could squeeze his ample belly through.

  Sol may have been in front but it was Frankie who saw Celia first. As he skirted around Sol’s path, he glimpsed her through the trees; a desolate figure standing at the top of the slab steps. She was looking out over the lake, her head bowed, her arms wrapped around herself. He had to act quickly; he had to stop the boy before he saw her. Frankie couldn’t afford to have any witnesses.

  Sol was fast approaching the lakeside – any second now Celia would be in view – but Frankie was behind him so quickly it was as if he’d been teleported. Sol heard a sudden rush of breaking twigs on the ground, but before he even had time to turn around he felt a hammer-like blow on the back of his skull and then...nothing.

  Celia heard a thud as Sol’s body hit the ground. She turned around, calling out anxiously into the dark forest. “Who’s there?
Sol, is that you?”

  Frankie immediately walked out of the shadows to reveal himself and shield Sol’s form from view. “Hi, Celia.” He approached her with his palms raised as if he were surrendering.

  “Who are you? How do you know my name? What are you doing here?” The questions came tumbling out in alarm.

  “Don’t worry. I’m here to help you.” Frankie spoke as gently as a purring tiger. “I’m Detective Inspector Paul Garner.” He pulled out a police badge from a pocket and flashed it at her.

  She peered at him in confusion. “I know you from somewhere. I’ve seen you before. You...you were that bloke in the city, the volunteer in that fire act.”

  Frankie gave a convincingly playful laugh. “Yeah, how stupid did I look?”

  “But why are...” Celia struggled to finish, her mind already overloaded.

  “We’ve been following you, Celia. We had to make sure we had the right person. We’ve been looking for you for years. We know about the virus, we know about everything. I can help you.”

  “If you really knew about the virus then you’d know that no one can help me,” she replied bitterly.

  “You’re wrong, Celia. I don’t know what you’ve been told but an antidote has been developed. It was ready years ago. If Janice had only gone to the authorities, you wouldn’t have had to go through all this. But all that matters is that we’ve found you. Just come with me and we’ll get rid of this thing.”

  Celia shook her head. “No! It can’t be true.”

  “Of course it is. Now, come with me.” He smiled, holding his hands out to her. She stepped hesitantly towards him, their fingertips touching, when, out of the darkness, a moan rose up.

  Her hands shot away from his. “What was that? There’s someone there!”

  “It’s just an animal,” he replied quickly. “This place must be teeming with them. Come on, it’s creepy here. Let’s go.”

  “That’s no animal.” She ducked past him and saw Sol’s inert body on the forest floor. “Sol!” she screamed. “What have you done to him?”

  Frankie had positioned himself in front of her, blocking her way. “He’ll be fine,” he said coldly. “Now come with me.”

  Celia’s eyes darted around, looking for an escape route. She faltered backwards onto the top slab. There was no way past his brick-wall body and only the lake lay far below her.

  They shifted and swayed, as he mirrored her every move, like two mismatched sumo wrestlers in deadlock. Celia tried to wrong-foot him, jerking right, then left, but this only amused him.

  She stepped back. Her heels hung over the edge of the slab, a sheer drop below.

  “Come on, little girl,” he scoffed, moving in on her. “You’re not in the playground now. There’s nowhere to run.”

  But he was suddenly silenced as, without warning, Celia turned her back on him and threw herself into the lake.

  She shattered the surface of the still waters, causing pandemonium among the sleeping wildlife. Birds flew up in fright; foxes called out from the woods, sounding like distressed babies; and flustered mallards skimmed across the water, offering a chorus of laughter in response to Celia’s inelegant entry.

  “Oh for God’s sake!” shouted Frankie, throwing his arms up in frustration.

  Celia kicked her way to the surface and gasped as she trod water. Her clothes clung to her; her trainers felt like bricks weighing down her feet.

  “Stop mucking about. I don’t have time for this,” Frankie sighed, pulling out his gun and pointing it at her bobbing head. “Get out now or I’ll shoot.”

  Logic may have dictated that she should do as he said, but her instincts were telling her not to. If that man, whoever he was, captured her, she had no chance of helping Sol. She had to believe that she could save her friend. She had to believe that both of them could make it out of this alive.

  She was a sitting duck; she had to get moving. Screwing up her eyes, she waited for the bullets to fly as her arms and legs splashed against the water.

  Frankie couldn’t believe that she was defying him. “What’s wrong with you, Celia? Do you want to die? Get here now!” he roared, but still she continued.

  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 gri
pped 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.