Final LockDown (3 page)

“This way,” I hear one of my friends say from the landing, multitudes of steps hammering along the carpeted floor.

I look to the door as a group of paramedics rush through it, automatically pulling equipment, machines, needles, blood and dressings from their green bags.

I don’t want to move, but I feel Ant’s strong arms pulling me from the floor, so I can let them help her. “Please save her, I need her, please?” I plead with them, crying profusely, an infinite amount of tears streaming my face.

“Come on man, leave them to it,” Ant tells me, as he pulls me into the hallway.

I punch the wall on my landing, the plaster caving and crumbling around my bloody fists, the blood of my wife staining the hole. “Leighton, you need to calm down, not only do we need to help Abbi, but we can’t find Mel anywhere. We have pulled the place apart and there is no sign of her.”

It doesn’t take a fucking genius to put two and two together and realise whoever has shot my wife has my daughter. Rage boils deep in my gut, travelling up through me, a deep growl emanating from within as a result. “They’re fucking dead,” I say calmly but maliciously.

“Is Joe in his bed?” I ask Ant, knowing Georgia had put him there earlier.

“Yes, Joe is fine. He is out for the count.” I breathe a quick sigh of relief, thankful he is ok.

“Have you checked the footage around the house?” I ask him in a rush, trying to find a way to see who has taken my girl.

“You stay with Abbi, leave Tom to do what he does best Leigh, you’re no good to anyone in a fit of rage. You don’t think rationally when you get like this and you know it,” he tells me.

Why does the prick have to know me so well? I am merciless and violent when I need to be, but my main priority now, is getting my wife well.

“Get him on it now; I want her found in the hour!” I command him, turning away and walking back into the room, my wife now being manoeuvred onto a trolley, bandages coating her shoulders, an oxygen mask covering her pale face, a drip in her arm, slowly nourishing her with blood.

“Is she going to be okay?” I ask, sniffling through my tears, using the back of my hand to try and dry them without coating my face in her blood.

“I don’t know sir, we need to get her to hospital now,” they tell me, pushing past me with the trolley. I follow behind, determined to go with them. There is no way they are taking my wife away from here without me following.

They carry her down the stairs, me cringing every step as I fear her sliding from the thing, regardless of the multiple straps holding her down.

“You find my fucking daughter,” I tell Ant once more as I walk past him out of the front door.

“Thomas is already on it, he has every camera pulled up man, but some were cut off around the time. We’ll find her, you know we will Leigh, just bring our girl back okay.” It fixes my heart a little to see how many people love my wife with their entire heart.

“I will. She isn’t leaving me yet I can assure you of that,” I tell him, walking through the doors and to the ambulance where Abbi is now being settled in to.

Her body is wrapped in blankets, straps covering her, her blood pressure and heart dropping rapidly. “Sir, please sit down and put your belt on,” they instruct me as I duck my head and climb into the back of the ambulance.

I sit beside my broken wife, holding her hand through the blanket. I can feel the chill that covers her skin, even through the thick wool housing her. “Abbi, baby, you can do this, fight for everything baby. You’re strong, you can do it angel,” I tell her, as she sleeps silently beside me.

“DAD!” I hear my son shouting from outside the ambulance. I stand up and rush to the still open doors, my son standing there in his pyjamas.

“Go back inside, Joseph. Go back to sleep,” I instruct him, his face paling as the seconds pass.

“Dad, what’s happening? Is that Abbi? Please tell me she’s okay Daddy. Is she okay?” he asks me nervously, trying to climb inside the ambulance.

“Joe, please, go back inside with Aunt Georgia. Be a brave boy for me, okay. I’ll bring Abbi home, I promise, but you have to be strong for us, pray for her okay. I love you, kid.” I walk and quickly kiss his head.

He sneaks past me, jumping into the ambulance and to my wife’s side.

“You have to be okay, you have to come home to me, mum,” he says sadly, leaning and kissing Abbi’s head. It breaks my heart that she isn’t able to hear what he just said, unable to hear his affection for her. That, alone, would be enough to keep her fighting.

“She will always be here, son, I can assure you of that. I love you kid,” I tell him again, kissing him and hugging him quickly. “Now go inside, and remember, be a big, brave boy for me.” I wave to him as the paramedics begin closing the doors.

“Love you mum,” he shouts as the last door closes on him. I hear my sister taking him back inside.

I sit shaking my legs up and down, holding onto her, as if she might slip away if I let go. The sirens are blearing loudly on the street, the ambulance swerving in and out of the traffic as it drives to the local hospital.

I sit up quickly as the vehicle stops and the back doors are opened fast. The paramedic in the back prepares her for transport, as the other quickly brings the ramp up ready. I look outside into the darkened night, a group of doctors and nurses standing waiting by the doors, obviously preparing to take her in.

“What’s gonna happen to her now?”  I ask, as they push her through the hospital, my tired legs struggling to keep up.

“She needs surgery,” they say bluntly as they speed through the doors to the ‘theatre’ ‘restricted area’.

A few moments after, the double doors smash against my face, unable to follow her through when I need her. A nurse appears to explain in a little more detail.

“Hello Mr Lock, I’m sorry that was a bit rushed. We are preparing your wife for surgery; you are welcome to stay in the waiting area until she is stable.” Stable? What the fuck? My adrenaline is crashing and I am panicking. She is my fucking wife god damn it. I can’t lose her; I am not prepared or willing to let her go, ever.

I pace the waiting room like a prick, the same as I had last year when she was attacked; waiting for any sign she is ok.

My phone rings in my pocket. I dig it out, answering without seeing who it is. “What?” I say angrily, my rage beginning to boil over as I think over and over about the three most important people in my life. At least Abbi is in the right place, my son is at home safe and being strong for me, but now my daughter is my main concern, her tiny scared self somewhere unknown.

“It’s me.” I hear Tom’s voice through the speaker.

“Got anything?” I ask him, trying to stop myself from snapping.

“I think I have something, most of the cameras were shorted but the driveway exterior CCTV caught the shadow of a man leaving with Mel getting into a Jag. I’ve got the plate and it’s registered to a Mr Southgate. He lives in London; the boys are heading there now. I’ll let you know what happens after okay mate. And please keep her safe there Leigh,” he asks me sadly. He is Abbi’s best friend and I honestly believe he loves her as much as I do. I don’t fear his love for her; he is far too in love with Nate to ever want my woman.

“Sure, get to it Tom,” I instruct him. I am still his boss by all accounts and I pay him enough to sort this. I need my daughter back today or heads are going to roll, hard and heavy across the fucking pavement.

“Bye,” he simply says before hanging the phone up.

I sigh and sit myself down, staring at the clock on the wall repeatedly.

Two hours later, the doors open and a doctor in green scrubs enters. “Mr Lock?” he asks me and I stand and walk to him. “There’s bad news I’m afraid.”

The look on his face says it all, his lips curve downwards and the staining on his tunic does nothing to calm me. “No. Please god no.” I fall to my knees and cry.

“So Angel, tell me how I’m supposed to climb this mother fucking mountain inside to get to that hole up there. I don’t have wings like you unfortunately.” I huff and slop against one of the rocky walls.

“Determination grows you wings, sweet cheeks. Now get your arse up now and get going. If you want to be up there before dawn you'll need to pull your finger out and at least try,” my little angel friend encourages me. “What you waiting for, I can see your Leighton at the end there, begging for you to come back, you going to leave him alone?” she taunts me.

I drag myself upright again, the two of us hidden behind some rocky jagged boulders. “Right, there is a gap to go, let’s do this,” I say as I turn and grip the side of the wall, my fingers digging into the rock as I pull myself up, my feet landing on protruding piece of rocky face.

“Good, that’s one step closer. Now another,” she tells me and I look around to see if we are still safe and out of site from those hounds or the devil himself, he is somewhere strewed across this large expanse of hell.

“Yes,” I say to myself, pushing further up. I take another four steps upwards, towards my freedom and hope of life again. “We’re doing it angel,” I tell her as she holds onto my bare flesh tightly, her tiny little fingers holding on like she is going to die.

I look up as light starts to seep through the opening above me, giving me a slight ray of hope.

“So tell me Abbi, why do you think you’re in hell, what’s the reason for your banishment here?” she asks me, still perched so angelically on my shoulder.

“Lots of reasons, the main one my mother’s death. My father and she looked so happy before I was born, but because of me, she died. I can’t change that. I wish I could; make my father happy, stop him from turning into the monster he did.” I shrug a little as I heave myself up the high wall further.

“You were a baby Abigail; you can’t blame yourself for your mother’s mental health issues. She should have sought help before it manifested into the demon it was.” She strokes my hair softly, a little clogged up with my blood. “So tell me, what else do you think brought you here instead of heaven?”

I sigh; I have done far too many wrong things in my life. “I have a long list Angel. We don’t have that long.” I giggle a little as she digs her fingers into the soft spot at the back of my neck. It makes my hand loosen, causing me to slip a little. “Silly thing, you could have killed us.” I try to slap her little hand, stopping her tormenting on me.

“Firstly, sweetheart, you are already dead and secondly tell me your sins so I can tell you if you deserve your place here.”

“Okay, so, we have my mother’s death, then bringing my friend into the home where she was abused by my father, taking drugs and putting myself through torture on the streets, cheating on my husband, taking drugs whilst pregnant, taking drugs whilst breast feeding. Oh, and let’s not forget leading Antonio on.” I clench my eyes closed to try and stop the word infiltrating my mind, those three words he had told me last time we had been intimate. ‘I love you’ he had said, his entire soul behind them.

“Stop now, Abigail, you have nothing to be sorry for. None of those things were your fault, everything you did you did for a good reason. Now wipe those bad thoughts away and get yourself out of here, because it’s clear now, real hell is your own conscious ruling you.”

I look above and continue my own personal journey.

“Look angel, its life,” I tell her, smiling into the brightness. It is weird, they say when you die you see the light, but I am seeing the light as I struggle to return to life.

“You’re doing well Abbi, keep going, we can make it.” I know she is just as desperate as me to escape from this uninviting shit heap.

“No, we’re doing it, both of us together.” I tell her, knowing without her strength and guidance I would have remained in that cell, alone, cold, and frightened until eventually I shrivelled up and ceased to exist in every world there was.

“Yeah, we sure are. I can hear them Abbi, they’re calling for you. They need you; they need your help to find Melissa. Do you know who had her sweetheart?” she asks me as I continue to pull myself up the inside of this fiery inferno.

I feel angry suddenly, the horrible images that plague my brain of my last breathing seconds. “Oh god, my father.” I cry a little, if that is possible when you are a dead spirit, but I do. I can feel the salty droplets burning my aching wound, the hole lying rugged and ugly in my shoulder.

“We’ll find him, all of us, but we have to get out of here and quickly Abbi,” she tells me sternly, getting my arse into gear further. I become a speedy rock climber, clearing feet after feet of rugged rock face, my hand stinging and cut to bits, but my determination and utter focus is now on that hole.

“Argghhh!” I growl as I pull us over an overhang rock.

“We’re close Abigail, look, only a few feet to go.” I can hear dogs barking fiercely below us, at least a hundred feet between us. I am proud of myself, pulling myself up this wall and to my freedom so easily.

“Yes, yes, nearly there.” I chant to myself as I clasp the final lip, the edge, the bright light blinding my movements but I don’t care.

“We’re safe Abbi; we’re going to be ok,” the angel tells me as I heave us over the edge and onto the hard floor outside.

I roll onto my back and feel the same numb feeling I felt when I had been shot; the cold, nerveless feeling and I know that isn’t right.