Hide and Seek by P.S. Brown Page B

Cheryl.’
    He grabbed the till register and lifted it to chest height.
    ‘Cheryl, move away from the door. I’m going to smash it open.’
    He didn’t wait for a reply , the till was a lot heavier than he expected, and so he quickly strained and lifted it above his head. He ran forward to gain momentum and smashed it into the oven door. The violent contact sent a sickening shudder through his body, but the damage to the oven was minor. There was a small dent in the door, while the glass had cracked slightly in the corner and now looked like a spider’s web. The till looked like it had come off worse, but he picked it up again and crashed it down directly onto the handle. Again, he felt the shudder throughout his body. He tried the handle again, yanking it back and forth rapidly.
    ‘Come on you fucking bastard,’ he yelled in frustration.
    The handle buckled and one side suddenly snapped away from the door, sending Peter sprawling backwards onto the floor. He looked up to see the handle hanging off the oven door and scrambled to his feet. He unravelled the chain and slid it down over the handle before throwing it up onto the roof of the oven.
    The oven door opened and Peter was hit in the face by a hot blast of air followed by the smell of charred flesh. It reminded him of being in a sauna when it hurt to breathe in the hot air. Peter grabbed Cheryl who recoiled in pain at the touch. She muttered incomprehensibly as he dragged her body from the oven to rest her on the floor. She was completely naked and her back was black and red, a horrific combination of burnt flesh and blood. The left side of her body, which had been laid on the metal shelf of the oven, was even worse. Large sections of her skin had peeled and torn off when he pulled her from the oven. Peter retched, his face contorted in a mixture of anger and distress.
    ‘Oh God,’ he wept.
    Cheryl hunched up in the foetal position and sobbed uncontrollably as Peter pulled the mobile from his jacket pocket and dialled 999. A pre-recorded, female voice spoke.
    ‘Sorry, it has not been possible to connect your call.’
    ‘Shit,’ he shouted.
    He looked at the display o n the phone. The graphic showed he had sufficient reception. Peter wondered if Celo had blocked the phone somehow, but even if he had Peter thought you could always still ring the emergency services. He searched for a phone in the shop and found one hung on the wall and dialled again. A female voice answered.
    ‘Which service do you require?’
    ‘Ambulance.’
    ‘What is the address of the emergency?’
    ‘Low Grange, I’m at Low Grange in Bilton, in the bakery.’
    The woman paused for a few moments.
    ‘Is that Low Grange Avenue?’
    ‘Yes,’ he said impatiently.
    ‘Can you verify the telephone number you’re calling from?’
    Peter checked the wall unit and the phone itself but there was no number.
    ‘I don’t know what the number is.’
    ‘Okay. What is the problem? Tell me exactly what’s happened.’
    Peter paused for a second trying to think how he was going to explain the situation.
    ‘My friend Cheryl was trapped in an oven. She’s got burns all over her body.’
    The woman on the other end of the line paused for a few seconds. Peter had no doubt that an emergency call operator had heard all manner of stories over the years but the pause suggested to him that this was a new one for her.
    ‘Are you with Cheryl now?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘How old is she?’
    ‘Erm...33 or 34, I’m not sure.’
    ‘Is she conscious?’
    He looked down at Cheryl who was still curled up in the foetal position sobbing.
    ‘Yes, she’s conscious.’
    ‘Is she breathing?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Is she away from the oven now?’
    ‘Yes, I got her out; she’s laid on the floor. What do I do?’ he whimpered in frustration.
    ‘What’s your name?’
    He felt hesitant at first but answered.
    ‘It’s Peter.’
    ‘Okay Peter, is any item of clothing burning or smouldering?’
    ‘No, she’s not