VIII
And there
it was. Charlie could see it. The department store, rising up out of the
mist like some pirate galleon, was only a few dozen feet away. It’s windows, normally lit even late at
night, were full of Christmas trees and ideal gift suggestions. Charlie found the sight reassuring, although
without the lights, and surrounded by fog as they were, everything seemed to
take on a slightly more sinister aspect.
He tried to ignore that and instead made his way towards the entrance.
He was
running faster than he had realised and didn’t allow himself enough time to
stop, slamming into the plate glass door of the shop with painful force, but
fortunately managing to hit it side on and thus letting his shoulder take the
brunt of it, not his nose or face. As
he bounced back he noticed Paige running up behind him. Before he could do anything she enveloped
him in a sudden, unexpected hug.
“Don’t do
that,” she whispered fiercely into his hair, “please, don’t do that, again.”
“We had
to run,” he replied, then, seeing the wall of fog advancing behind Josh, who
was running to catch up, he added, “we still do.”
Paige
glanced over her shoulder as Josh skidded to a halt beside them.
“We need
to find some shelter,” he said, “they’re following us.”
“We can
see that!”
“We need
to go in here,” Charlie said as calmly as possible.
“Into the
store?” Josh didn’t sound convinced,
but Charlie merely nodded.
“There
isn’t time to find anywhere else,” Paige added, looking back over her shoulder
once more and biting her lip.
“Okay,
then,” said Josh, before turning to the plate glass doors, giving himself a
slight run up and ramming them with his shoulder. Charlie watched as the young man bounced off just the same way he
had.
“We need something
stronger,” Paige said, glancing around until her eyes fell on a nearby
bench. “Can you help me with this?”
It took
the three of them to move it, and it wasn’t easy, or quick. The fog wall was still advancing and there
was still no sign of Henry, which was starting to worry Charlie. When they got the bench near to the door
Josh started giving directions as to how they needed to swing it. Charlie thought it was all pretty self
evident, but he listed to Josh anyway.
“On the
count of three. One. Two.
Three!”
The crash
ought to have been terrifyingly loud.
On a normal night it would have
brought alarms with it, people looking out their windows, dialling 999. That night, it just seemed to be muted by
the fog. Crystal glass fell across the
street and the three survivors ran inside, into another world of toys and
handicrafts and luxury luggage.
And still
there was no sign of Henry.
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