It Never Rains in Colombia (19 page)

             
Harlow stopped to catch her breath behind a house-size stack of crates as Sophia looked frantically around her. Harlow lowered her head till it almost touched her knees. Palms pressing down hard on her thighs, she heard the distant beep of a forklift reversing and then hurried footsteps. Sophia pulled her arm. Harlow whispered, “Wait,” hurriedly pulling off her other shoe. They jogged down to the end of the crates, then stopped dead at the edge. Harlow swiped a quick glance round the side. The gaps between the stacks of crates were the size of a river, a wide-open space that exposed them to anyone who cared to look.

             
The aisles were empty; she ran to the next stack apprehensively with Sophia a few steps behind, then she saw it—the flash of green just barely visible around the edge of a stack of crates to her right. Harlow moved into the center of the aisle, out of the shadows. No one was around. As she neared the small green car, a strange rustling sound came to her and she saw a group of four people walking through the aisles. Harlow stopped suddenly and Sophia bumped into her wordlessly.

             
One man holding a clipboard was casting a critical eye over a row of cellophane-wrapped goods. He was being followed by another man who looked aimlessly around, nodding every once in a while. They were heading away from her toward two people in the distance who were crouched over something. Harlow flicked her eyes quickly at the little green car and then back at the group of workers in their blue jumpsuits. Sophia hurried past the wide aisle, with Harlow following her as quietly as she could. As Harlow passed, she heard one of the worker's radios come to life, “A.P. to the smart room,” it crackled.

             
Harlow ran to the green buggy sliding to a stop in front of it. She slid in quietly next to Sophia, who was looking around, feverishly muttering, “Keys, keys, keys.”               Harlow found the ignition hopelessly empty, then finally a mischievous glint of silver caught her eyes from underneath the driver's seat and she could have cried with relief. “There,” she said, pointing, “Under your feet.” Sophia looked down, following her hand. Harlow, suddenly overcome with impatience, leaned down and snatched the keys from the buggy floor. Sophia started the vehicle. It hummed into life loudly. Harlow knew that their captors would now be aware of their escape.

              Turning the wheel slowly to the left, Sophia edged the vehicle out of the darkened aisle, fleeing the shadow of the crates, and burst out into the open. Speeding down the aisle she found only the back of the large warehouse fast approaching her.

             
Harlow said, “I think we ran the wrong way. It feels like we went deeper into this dungeon.”

             
Sophia nodded, sweat beaded her forehead as the seconds ticked by and she hastened, clumsily, to reverse the vehicle, crashing noisily into the large stack of crates, then pulling forwards at speed. It was going about 30 M.P.H.

             
Someone shouted, “Hey!”

             
She sped past the aisle as a short man started running after them. Harlow craned her neck round to see him, “Oh no.” Sophia pressed down harder on the accelerator, whipping her head back once to see if he was gaining on them. She saw a flash of daylight to her left and yanked the wheel quickly in that direction. The little car almost toppled over. Up ahead she could see two large windows above a set of double doors that were wide open, with only an orange forklift in the way. Its owner, a man in a blue jumpsuit, was inspecting some products that had fallen from the forklift. He looked up in surprise as the buggy sped toward him.

             
“Stop them!” A man's voice shouted from behind.

             
They were a few feet away now. The scent of fresh air wafted past Harlow, mingled with the smell of something caustic that burned the hairs in her nostrils.               The muscular man in the blue jumpsuit jumped over the puddle of spilt chemicals lithely and into the little green car's path. Harlow glanced at Sophia, who instinctively veered to his right, but he ran in front of the car again. The car was heading right for him, but Sophia didn't blink. Harlow could see the sweet liberty promised by the forest behind him. The car sped toward him, not caring,
It's do or die,
she thought, muttering, “It's him or us.” He dove out of the way at the last second, falling into the puddle as he went. There was a splash, then he screamed in pain. Harlow grimaced,
Acid?
The stench of his aftershave still hung in the air as they whizzed past, through the open doors and onto the concrete path that led to a vast car park.

             
There were dozens of lorries in the car park and a small white van, as well as a Bentley that seemed conspicuously out of place in the barren industrial surroundings. The sound of racing footsteps rang in their ears as the buggy sped down the pathway away from the car park.

             
“Where are you going?” Harlow asked with concern, “there are loads of cars there.”

             
Sophia didn't look at her, “Do you know how to hotwire a car?”

             
“No,” Harlow admitted reluctantly.

             
“We don't have time,” Sophia continued as Harlow looked wistfully back at the car park and the heavy bodies running from the aisles of the warehouse after them.

             
“Where's the damn road?” Sophia muttered in frustration as the small buggy hurtled toward the trees. They reached the canopy of trees and jumped out of the vehicle as soon as it stopped.

             
Sophia was already on the dirt path. She turned back to see Harlow frantically searching through the pockets of the discarded jumpsuit that had been bundled on the backseat.

             
“Come on, what are you doing?” Sophia said, coming back over. She pulled at Harlow's right arm.

             
“Wait,” Harlow insisted, pocketing a Walkie Talkie. “She said we might need this,” then threw back the chewing gum, ID card, and tissue she had found.

             
“There's nothing here,” Sophia pressed. She threw the keys angrily onto the driver’s seat and then noticed something on the floor of the backseat. “Wait, there's a phone here,” she said. Moving Harlow aside impatiently, she snatched the phone greedily from the floor then pulled Harlow as they ran off, “Come on.”

             
They ran into the woods, hearing the tramp of heavy footsteps on the dirt trail. There were more people following now.

             
Harlow crunched slowly through the path, stepping lightly on the twigs and stones that carpeted the ground. It had been a while since she had heard anyone following. She was exhausted from running. She had flown like an injured raven through the forest, being hit and scratched by tangled branches that blocked her way. The sun was setting slowly in the distance. The orange and pink sky worried her.

             
“How will we know where we're going?” she asked Sophia.

             
Sophia was still walking quickly. She slowed down, fumbling in her pockets for the phone, finally locating it in the inside pocket of her blazer. She wondered if the owner had noticed it was gone.

             
“What are you doing?” Harlow asked.

             
“Calling 999,” came the breathless reply.

             
They crept forward swiftly, silently. Sophia's breathing was heavy, ragged from fear and exhaustion. Her whole body was tensed, ready to run at any movement that seemed threatening. Her ears pricked up like a fox’s, finely attuned to detect any odd sound. The ringing of the phone seemed obnoxiously loud, as did the operator's voice and her own, though she was whispering rapidly.

             
“999. What is your emergency?”

             
“I need the police.”

             
“I've been—we've been—someone kidnapped me, but I escaped with my friend. I don't know where I am and they're coming.” She explained breathlessly.

             
“Ok, ma'am, can you describe your location?”

             
“We're in the woods,” she whispered, looking around uneasily. The darkness was moving in slowly all around her. The shadows, the trees, were all thicker, more sinister. The bird song lulling. Something scurried across the ground in front of her and she gasped, making Harlow jump, standing still for the first time in an hour.

             
“Are you okay?” The operator asked.

             
“Yes, no,” Sophia replied hurriedly. “Can't you trace my location or something.” She didn't pause for an answer. “I was near some industrial buildings, I don't know if that will help. There are quite a few of them,” she said darkly, “I don't know who they are. It's only a matter of time.”

             
The operator reassured her, “Ma'am, it's ok. Just keep calm. Help is on the way. Can you describe—” The phone cut off. Sophia stared at it in horror.

             
“Battery’s dead,” she said to Harlow, wanting to hurl it at the nearest tree. Harlow grabbed the phone, whispering, “No, no,” in desperation.” She pressed the power button, desperately, so hard she thought it would recede inwards and never come out. “Damn it!” Harlow jogged forwards, pushing the lifeless phone into her pocket. Sophia followed behind her hopelessly as they made their way through the forest.

             
After some time, Harlow heard the sound of machinery in the distance and hesitated, wondering whether to turn back. It was dark now. She could see the lights through the thicket of trees, lights flashing past, one ray after another, in a steady stream, and realised they were headlights. “A road,” Harlow whispered with renewed hope.

             
“Sssssh,” Sophia said, motioning to Harlow. Behind them came the sound of something heavy trampling through the woods toward them fast. Harlow, frightened, ran forwards without thinking and slipped, losing her footing. She rolled down the shallow leaf-covered slope that led to the road and banged her head on the metal railings. The railings shuddered, bending forwards under the force of Harlow's body and then sprung back against her. The sound of the crash reverberated through the air and she wondered who else had heard it. Sophia slid down the slope toward Harlow and found her already staggering to her feet, slowly. The skin of Harlow's palms had been ripped back by the friction of the fall. She'd used her hands to try to slow her descent, to grip onto something. The wounds were clogged with dirt, blood, and pieces of leaves. She wiped her palms on her skirt, gingerly wincing when the sore, scraped skin touched the blue material.

             
The cars were passing fast and frequently; she could see at least four lanes of traffic.

             
“It's a motorway. It must be,” Harlow insisted, hopefully clambering up the metal fence, losing grip and sliding back down again, kicking the railings in frustration. Sophia took a step back and jumped at the fence like a cat, hooking her fingers in between the metal holes a few feet above the ground. She lifted herself upwards with only the strength of her arms. Harlow copied, her feet frequently slipping, flailing, finding nowhere to grip. It was a mighty effort that brought Harlow past Sophia and up to the top of the fence only to find barbed wire rolled across the length of it. She felt herself slipping back down.

             
Sophia was almost to the top when she heard the crunching of leaves in the forest, turning just in time to see a bright white torchlight pass over her. Harlow reached a hand down toward Sophia, whispering, “Hurry.” Sophia grabbed Harlow's hand, using it to hoist herself upwards. Her midriff was now in line with the spikes of rolled barbed wire. It pressed into her shirt, prodding her flesh menacingly. Harlow slid down the other side of the fence, making it shake gently. The sound of hushed voices came behind Sophia, then more trampling of leaves.

             
Something heavy fell down the slope and then there was an angry shout of blistering profanities. Torch lights flashed onto the motorway in front of Harlow without hesitation. Sophia threw a leg over the top of the fence, missing the spikes. A hand grabbed her ankle as it hung on the forest side of the fence. Sophia kicked back furiously, trying to free her leg, but the grip only intensified, clutching at her leg, pulling her downwards. The spikes of the barbed wire cut into Sophia's flesh as she was pulled down on the barbed wire; tears of pain filled her eyes. Sophia kicked back furiously, harder, aimlessly, almost falling off the fence, then her foot made contact with something around head height. There was a soft click and the man yelled in agony, dropping the torchlight. Sophia hoisted herself upright again and threw the freed leg over the fence. Her bare leg scraped against the spikes and she grimaced, her fingers gripping the fence as she slid down in one fast controlled slide.

             
Harlow stood at the bottom of the fence waiting anxiously, in the dark, as Sophia slid down toward her. She saw a man, cupping his nose protectively, curled up in the dirt on the other side of the fence, his large companions running down the slope, torches in hand. A few feet of dirt separated Harlow and Sophia from the busy motorway. Cars streamed past at speed, flashing by like lightning bolts. As soon as Sophia jumped down next to her, they ran down the dirt path near the hard shoulder in the direction of oncoming traffic hoping someone would see them. There was no time to stop now.