Epitaph by Shaun Hutson Page B

were useless. He was praying for a miracle that wasn’t going to come. Perhaps the sooner he accepted the end the better, he thought. Maybe that was how it worked. When people on a plane heard that they were going to crash perhaps that was how they reacted in the moments before impact, he mused. Rather than screaming uselessly as their deaths came unerringly closer, maybe they relaxed into an acceptance of that inevitability. A bit like people with terminal diseases. Didn’t they say that there were several stages to be encountered and endured once they’d been told of their fate?
    There was the anger, the sorrow and then the resign -ation.
    What else was there to do but face up to the inevitable? And yet, even now, Paul couldn’t bring himself to confront it. He could not will himself to stare head-on at the impending end of his life. So great was his desire to live, to breathe fresh air and walk on the earth again that he clung to that tiny fragment of false hope as if it were drift-wood in a turbulent sea.
    ‘Then do it,’ he snarled to himself. ‘Get out of this box.’
    That was it; that was the answer. Get angry. Don’t lie here waiting for death. Fight back.
    There has to be a way. You can’t just go down without a fight. You can’t just surrender like this. Fight back. Get out of this fucking coffin.
    Paul felt a surge of energy unlike anything he’d felt since waking inside the box.
    ‘Don’t give up,’ he said through gritted teeth.
    There had to be a way out. There had to be, and he was determined to find it.

29
     
    ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gina. Just calm down.’
    Frank Hacket held the mobile away from his ear as he heard another loud shout from the other end of the line. It sounded like his name being bellowed loudly by his wife and it was the same sound that had greeted him when he’d first answered.
    ‘Are you still there?’ Gina shouted from the other end of the line. Her voice was cracking and full of emotion. ‘Frank?’
    ‘I’m here,’ he told her. ‘Just take it easy. I’ve told you not to ring me when I’m not on my break or at lunch. They don’t like it.’
    ‘Do you want to hear what I’ve got to say or not?’ she snapped, the volume of her voice dropping a little even if the ferocity didn’t.
    ‘Just calm down.’
    ‘I can’t.’
    ‘You’ve got to try. What’s wrong?’
    ‘It’s Laura. She’s not home yet. She should have been home two hours ago and she’s still not here. I’m going out to look for her again. I’ve already walked the route from our house to her
school and back. I’m going to do that and then, if she’s still not home, I’m going to call the police.’
    ‘Gina, wait a minute. Slowly. Just tell me what’s going on.’
    ‘I just told you. Laura’s not home from school. She finished two hours ago and she’s not back yet. There’s something wrong. I know there is.’
    ‘Have you rung her friends? She could be there.’
    ‘I’ve done that. She isn’t with any of them. And, anyway, she wouldn’t go round friends without permission, Frank. You know that.’
    ‘Perhaps she’s playing out with some of them.’
    ‘No, she isn’t. Not until this time. Not for two hours.’
    ‘She could be. It’s a beautiful day.’
    ‘Don’t try and humour me, you bastard,’ Gina yelled angrily. ‘Why aren’t you worried? You’re normally worse than me if she’s late coming in.’
    Frank suddenly felt very cold, as if someone had draped an icy blanket around him.
    ‘You can’t just call the police because she’s a bit late,’ he said, trying to keep his voice as even as possible.
    ‘How late does she have to be, Frank?’ Gina countered. ‘How much longer do I have to wait until you think it’s serious enough? Where the hell is she, Frank? What’s happened?’
    ‘There’s probably a really good explanation for this, Gina.’
    ‘And what if there isn’t?’ she cut in.
    ‘What do you think’s happened then?’