Free Flash Flood by Chris Ryan

the other side of the road, its front crumpled into a lamppost. As Ben made his way across, a Canada goose came waddling towards him. He stopped, watching it carefully, alert to the slightest sign of aggression in the way it carried its slender black neck. But he soonrealized that it wasn’t interested in him. It began to root through the contents of an upturned bin.
    Ben peered into the car and spotted what he wanted lying on the passenger seat: a battered A–Z of London. He opened the door and picked it up. ‘Sorry,’ he said to the departed owner, and closed the door again. In the last five minutes he’d been saying that word constantly.
    Right, where was he? There was a sign on the building on the corner: Eaton Square. Ben opened the A–Z , but the rain was soaking through the pages. He closed it again, opened the car door and got in. It was such a relief to be out of the rain.
    He found Eaton Square in the index. It was near Victoria Station and Buckingham Palace. Most importantly he wasn’t too far from Charing Cross – probably a twenty-minute walk. Provided he didn’t run into any more injured animals.
    He looked out at the dismal sky. Having a roof over his head was such a relief. Above him, the rain drummed down relentlessly. He wondered for a moment whether to stay where he was; at least it would be dry. But the rain might continue for hoursand if Bel was already at Charing Cross, she would be waiting. Worrying.
    He got out, and shuddered as the rain trickled down his neck again. He muttered a warning to Bel under his breath as he started off: You’d better be at Charing Cross when I get there .
    After a few minutes he came to a telephone box. Relief flooded through him, along with an overwhelming sense of homesickness. He didn’t have to be alone: he could phone his dad.
    He pushed the door open gratefully, then looked at the phone for a moment, wondering what to do. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d used a call box as he usually had his mobile. This one took coins – which was no good – but it also had a number you could call to reverse the charges. Just what he needed. He picked up the receiver.
    Nothing. It was dead.
    Of course it was. Why had he thought it wouldn’t be?
    He jiggled the cradle up and down a few times, hoping the phone would come to life.
    Ben started when a car horn suddenly blared out inthe empty streets. He looked around. Where had it come from? There were people out there – but where?
    He couldn’t see anything, but the rain was blurring the windows of the phone booth: it was like trying to see out of a shower cubicle. He put his head out but the street was empty.
    Another sound made him look again. It was the roar of a car engine. Ben jumped out of the phone booth, waving madly. Headlights came speeding towards him. He waved again – perhaps he could get a lift. Just to be with other people would be good.
    But the car swished past, sending up a wake of spray like a boat. Ben stared after it as it raced towards a junction, where dark traffic lights stood watching mutely. Its brake lights come on momentarily, then it wheeled round the corner and disappeared.
    Ben felt disbelief, then crushing disappointment. Surely the driver must have seen him. If it had been him or his dad and they’d seen someone alone in a situation like this, they wouldn’t have just left them.
    But this was the big city. He remembered that girlhe’d helped with her luggage at Waterloo. Vicky James; he’d even remembered her name. Everyone else, though, had blanked her. In London, if you didn’t know anyone, you were on your own.

Chapter Fourteen
     
    But he wasn’t totally alone.
    As he made his way to the junction, he caught a glimpse of movement at an upper-storey window. Someone was watching him.
    ‘Hello?’ he called, and waved.
    The movement stopped. The figure had moved away from the window, not wanting to be seen.
    In another house Ben could see a shadowy figure behind a large