Part One - (3)

An unimportant child is abducted by some mysterious men - but why?

The small playground on top of the hill was dilapidated and rundown. The slide was no longer a shiny, tacky silver, but a dull, rusty brown. The bouncy animal shaped seats weren't bright and happy, their paint was peeling and the springs had lost their bounce. The swings were covered in half a decade of bird poo, and one of the baby swings had broken from its chain. Wild weeds thrust through the rubber mat. The red fences were dotted with blue patches where the paint peeled, and the gate had long since rusted shut. The playground, which at one time had been filled with happy kids and tired parents throughout the day, was now a hang out spot for smoking youths and criminals, meaning that the ground was covered in cigarette ends and empty cans.

The playground was positioned between the high fence of an industrial estate, similarly dilapidated, on one side, and a steep embankment that sloped away on the other side. In one direction along the embankment a public footpath went through a kissing gate and off into the distance. In the other direction weeds and scrubs grew wild all the way to where the embankment and the fence curved round. Down the slope a small wood half-hid the busy road and a row of grimy terraced houses.

The weather on this autumn day was dreary. Low, grey clouds filled the sky, and chilly humid air suggested rain. The ground was soggy, and big, fat drops fell from the branches of a large horse-chestnut tree that overhung the playground.

Down at the bottom of the slope two figures were struggling through the thistles that bordered the small wood. One was a large, burly man with a head shaved to hide the natural baldness that was creeping across his temple, and cold blue eyes that were washed out by years of alcohol abuse. The other was a boy, about 10 years old. He had tangled brown hair that fell to his shoulders. His chocolate brown eyes were full of pain and despair, and he had the creeping spots of early adolescence. The pair began to climb laboriously up the bank towards the playground.

“So, what are we doing again, dad?” said the boy, in a tone of innocence mixed with a hint of fear.

“Just going to meet an old friend.” His dad had the voice of an alcoholic, and his tone seemed slightly worried, as if he was lying.

Soon, they rounded the top of the embankment and started towards the old playground. The boy looked at the place with a sort of affectionate longing. His father sat him at one of the moss covered benches and handed him a paper bag.

“Now, I want you to remember, Peter, that whatever happens, always do what you think is right, y'know, go with your heart and that.”

The boy, Peter, frowned. “Why?” He opened the bag and drew out a home made cheese cob.

“Er..save that till later Peter, yeah?” said his dad. “Now, just listen to me.” He looked around, and sighed. Cautiously, he sat next to his son and laid a hand on his shoulder. The boy flinched. “Also, remember that...” He looked into his son's eyes “I love you Peter, I hope you know that. And...whatever I do, please remember that.”

The boy seemed confused, and his hands clutched the paper bag so tight, his knuckles were white. Then there was a noise, and his dad drew away and stood up, looked over towards the kissing gate. Peter turned to follow his gaze, and saw figures coming towards them. The drizzle made their silhouettes indiscernible, and Peter squinted to try and make them out. As they came closer, and passed through the gate, letting out an eerie creak that filled the cold air like a cry of pain, he saw them to be two tall men in dark suits. Everything they wore was black, a strange black that somehow seemed darker than normal, almost like he imagined the centre of a black hole. Only their skin was light, a sharp contrast to their clothing. As the walked towards them, Peter's dad, went to meet them, leaving Peter on the bench. Peter watched them share a few brief words, then one of the men handed his dad a briefcase, making Peter's young mind wildly explore worlds of dark illegal deals. Then the two parties shook hands, and with a brief, desperate glance back at his son, Peter's dad took off down the slope.

Peter, shocked, stood up, calling out for his dad, and rushing after him. But, before he made it to the rim of the slope, the two dark men grabbed him, twisting his arms behind his back.

“Hey! Gettof! DAD! HELP!” Peter screamed desperately, vainly, but his dad ignored his cries, and sprinted defiantly into the wood.

The two dragged Peter to a door in the fence, one Peter hadn't noticed before, and pulled it open, pushing him through it. On the other side was a corridor, which really shouldn't have been there. The corridor was filled with dancing lights of every colour Peter knew, but at the same time it seemed dark. It seemed to stretch far into the distance, but at the same time it stopped suddenly. The end was a strange chasm of multi-colours, which seemed almost like Peters idea of space, but without any stars. The two men dragged him towards this chasm. His screams reached a ultimate pitch as they stepped into the chasm...

...and stepped out into exactly the same corridor. Peter's screams stopped as he began to stare around, trying to work out what just happened.

“Thank god he finally shut up.” Muttered one of the men. “Melvin never warned he would be this loud.”

His colleague chuckled.

The door at the end opened out into a large, marble room. Along the wall they had just come through were a serious of small wooden doors, and in front of them were 5 expensive oak desks. Apart from that the room was empty, and the roof was high and had big windows which let in grey light. At the other two opposite ends of the room were two big double doors. Peter's captors lead him to one of these doors, and one unlocked it. On the other side was a square reminiscent of a town centre, but it was filled with so much debris and weeds that it could have been a war site. This too was empty. Directly opposite them was a big building with the word “POLICE” written in vague letters above the open door. Around the square the buildings seemed to be mainly run down shops with wonky signs and smashed windows. In the middle was a fountain that no longer ran, and tables that could have been from a pavement café lay strewn around it. The men led him to the POLICE building. They pushed the door further open and stepped into the dimly lit room on the other side. It was some kind of prison, a corridor lined with barred cells. They seemed empty, however, although Peter couldn't see into most of them. By the door, a fat man wearing a t-shirt of the same eerie black colour as Peter's captors, was sat at a table taken from the cafe, sleeping.

“Bill!” called one of the men, banging the table hard with his fist. The fat man snorted and looked up, blearily.

“What, what? Oh, yeah, hi.” He blinked rapidly to clear his eyes, as the men giggled.

“We got that kid Melvin wanted,” said Peter's captor. “Barrington said bring him straight here.”

“Oh, right.” Bill stood up and took Peter by the wrist. “Yeah, you can go know and sleep.”

The men nodded. “Great. Night, Bill.”

Bill took Peter down the corridor.

“What are you doing?” asked Peter, finally mustering up the nerve to talk sensibly.

“Just locking you up. What's that?” he gestured at the paper bag.

“A..a cob.” Peter murmured.

Bill raised an eyebrow. “Really, what kind?”

“Cheese.”

Bill grinned. “Sounds nice. Enjoy it while you can.” He stopped. As they walked down half the length, Peter still failed to see any people. But now he saw that the cell they had stopped at contained a girl, roughly his own age.

“Alright, Theresa,” said Bill. “Got a friend for you. Name's Peter.”

The girl smiled, vaguely. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Peter muttered, shyly.

Bill smiled. “There you go. Get to know each other.” He drew out a set of keys and unlocked the cell opposite Theresa's, then shoved Peter into it. Then he slammed the door behind him, and locked it again. “Now I'm off to sleep again.”