Nightmare on Westgate By Sylvia Lumley
“Go to the call box at the corner of Lincoln and Westgate. You’ve got two minutes – or the boy dies.”
I dropped the phone as I backed out of the kiosk and fled along the wide pavement, dodging round Saturday shoppers and sightseers. The fifty thousand in my knapsack was thumping my back at every step, its weight dragging me down.
The kidnappers were making sure I wasn’t being followed. This was the third change of location and I began to wonder if I’d make it. My chest ached as I struggled to gasp in as much air as possible, and my legs wobbled like jelly.
Dressed in shorts and T shirt I looked like a jogger so, although I was careless as I barged though the throng, they mostly took it for rudeness. Not an unusual occurrence in this city.
I could see the gateway to the park up ahead and dodged through it. Plunging through the trees I ignored the paths, taking the shortest route I could find. At least trees didn’t mind being jostled.
The stipulated corner was a hundred yards away, the twin phone booths set back against the hedge, clearly visible across a playing field. There was someone in each one! There was even someone waiting!
Now what? I can’t stand impatiently in line. Okay, I’ll just tell them a kidnapper is trying to phone me to tell me where to bring the cash. Yeh, brilliant plan; they’ll either laugh or mug me.
I’d got about fifteen seconds to come up with plan C.
I pelted out of the park and up to the boxes, wrenched open the door of the first and the little old lady in there screamed. There was a kid in the second one and as I went to grab the handle the guy waiting stepped forward about to deliver his – hey, pal, what do you think you’re doing? – line. The kid looked round startled and shouted - “Dad!” – to this guy.
Scrabbling in my pocket I pulled out a twenty. “Here kid – this for the phone.” I didn’t wait for him to make up his mind; I shoved it into his hand as I pulled him out of the box, grabbed the receiver and slammed it onto its cradle.
I slid down to the floor in exhaustion and relief to wait for it to ring.
This was too much for the kid’s father. He pulled open the door. “What’s the game, asshole? D’you want the phone or not?”
Saved by the bell, it began to ring. I leaped up, knocking the guy back, and snatched it up.
“Yes?
“Go to the call box at the corner of Lincoln and Westgate. You’ve got two minutes – or the boy dies.”
I dropped the phone as I backed out of the kiosk and fled along the wide pavement, dodging round Saturday shoppers and sightseers. The fifty thousand in my knapsack was thumping my back at every step, its weight dragging me down.
The kidnappers were making sure I wasn’t being followed. This was the third change of location and I began to wonder if I’d make it. My chest ached as I struggled to gasp in as much air as possible, and my legs wobbled like jelly.
“Dad! Dad! Wake up dad, please wake up.”
I open my eyes. My son is shaking me. He’s not dead. He’s not kidnapped. I tell him I’m okay and roll over.
What is the matter with me? That’s the third time this month I’ve had that nightmare. Sometimes I go round and round all night and wake exhausted. It’s time I saw a shrink.
Copyright Sylvia Lumley 2012
I dropped the phone as I backed out of the kiosk and fled along the wide pavement, dodging round Saturday shoppers and sightseers. The fifty thousand in my knapsack was thumping my back at every step, its weight dragging me down.
The kidnappers were making sure I wasn’t being followed. This was the third change of location and I began to wonder if I’d make it. My chest ached as I struggled to gasp in as much air as possible, and my legs wobbled like jelly.
Dressed in shorts and T shirt I looked like a jogger so, although I was careless as I barged though the throng, they mostly took it for rudeness. Not an unusual occurrence in this city.
I could see the gateway to the park up ahead and dodged through it. Plunging through the trees I ignored the paths, taking the shortest route I could find. At least trees didn’t mind being jostled.
The stipulated corner was a hundred yards away, the twin phone booths set back against the hedge, clearly visible across a playing field. There was someone in each one! There was even someone waiting!
Now what? I can’t stand impatiently in line. Okay, I’ll just tell them a kidnapper is trying to phone me to tell me where to bring the cash. Yeh, brilliant plan; they’ll either laugh or mug me.
I’d got about fifteen seconds to come up with plan C.
I pelted out of the park and up to the boxes, wrenched open the door of the first and the little old lady in there screamed. There was a kid in the second one and as I went to grab the handle the guy waiting stepped forward about to deliver his – hey, pal, what do you think you’re doing? – line. The kid looked round startled and shouted - “Dad!” – to this guy.
Scrabbling in my pocket I pulled out a twenty. “Here kid – this for the phone.” I didn’t wait for him to make up his mind; I shoved it into his hand as I pulled him out of the box, grabbed the receiver and slammed it onto its cradle.
I slid down to the floor in exhaustion and relief to wait for it to ring.
This was too much for the kid’s father. He pulled open the door. “What’s the game, asshole? D’you want the phone or not?”
Saved by the bell, it began to ring. I leaped up, knocking the guy back, and snatched it up.
“Yes?
“Go to the call box at the corner of Lincoln and Westgate. You’ve got two minutes – or the boy dies.”
I dropped the phone as I backed out of the kiosk and fled along the wide pavement, dodging round Saturday shoppers and sightseers. The fifty thousand in my knapsack was thumping my back at every step, its weight dragging me down.
The kidnappers were making sure I wasn’t being followed. This was the third change of location and I began to wonder if I’d make it. My chest ached as I struggled to gasp in as much air as possible, and my legs wobbled like jelly.
“Dad! Dad! Wake up dad, please wake up.”
I open my eyes. My son is shaking me. He’s not dead. He’s not kidnapped. I tell him I’m okay and roll over.
What is the matter with me? That’s the third time this month I’ve had that nightmare. Sometimes I go round and round all night and wake exhausted. It’s time I saw a shrink.
Copyright Sylvia Lumley 2012
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Sylvia's first published sci-fi adventure 'Fire Wizard' is now available for purchase at Amazon.co.uk priced at just £0.77.
This is a tale of adventure on two worlds; of two boys facing peril with pluck and determination and growing into men, and one young woman coping with gangsters and technology in an alien world. All are beset by fears: fear of danger; of looking foolish; or of making the wrong decision. But they must learn that to achieve something stupendous, you have to risk the thing you fear. Check out some of the reviews... 'A fast-moving, well-written, ingenious and excellently devised fantasy story, passing easily between this world and a fully detailed, believable other world'. 'Sylvia Lumley's The Fire Wizard is an enthralling journey into a hidden world of mystery and magic. This eternal struggle between good and evil is a surprisingly multi-layered adventurous romp that kept this reader riveted. , |
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