Free The Long Weekend by Savita Kalhan Page B

And he couldn't go through it. He turned his attention to the bottom of the fence. Every tenth railing looked to be anchored on a post set deep in the ground with a horizontal bar running about half a foot off the ground linking the whole maddening, terrifyingly solid structure. He'd never be able to squirm through the gap between the bar and the ground – it couldn't have been more than three or four inches wide. He got down on his belly and tested it just in case. No way. Not a chance. He stood up and moved further along to a different section of fencing. It was exactly the same. Whoever had paid for it had got their moneys' worth.
    Now what was he supposed to do?
    He could have sat down and cried, the old Sam would have, but that's not what the new Sam did. He felt strangely calm, strangely focussed. He didn't feel like him any more, maybe that was why.
    The only thing left to do was to follow the fence around the property and hope for a loose bar, or a bigger gap to squeeze through or under. There had to be one. He became aware of his ankle throbbing dully. He hunted around for a decent-sized stick, something he could use as a weapon as well as to help support his dodgy ankle. When he found one he began his limp-walk along the wrought-iron fence, and ended up running the stick across the bars as he went. The fence seemed to go on for miles without a break, without one single loose bar. On the other side of it were open fields, woods, or overgrown hedges and bushes that you couldn't see a thing through.
    Sam had got so used to the quiet that when the owl started hooting again he almost jumped out of his skin. Sam didn't know much about owls, or why they hooted when they did, but now he wished he did. Was it a warning? Did they hoot when they felt threatened, or were they calling to warn other owls of danger?
    He used the cover of a tree to scan the area, but it was hard to see anything deep in the woods where all the moonlight did was cast menacing shadows. He had to carry on. Reluctantly, he left the safety of the tree and went back to following the fence. The trees thinned out and when they eventually came to an end Sam knew he was near the gate. He hunched over, making himself small, and crept out towards it. It was closed, as he knew it would be, but he thought he might be able to climb it. As he approached it he knew he had thought wrong. Somehow he hadn't remembered it being as high as that. He gave it a shake, but like the rest of the fence it didn't give an inch. He ran across to the other side of it and squatted in the undergrowth.
    There were a couple of options open to him now. He could wait there until someone came, or left, and try and sneak through while the gate was open. The only problem with that was that it was now one thirty and there was no one likely to arrive, or leave for that matter. There was probably a whole army of gardeners and cleaners for a place like this, but they wouldn't be arriving in the dead of night, and tomorrow was Saturday. No one worked on a Saturday.
    He looked back across the driveway to where he had just come from, trying to figure out what to do next. He knew he couldn't hide out until Monday morning, and if the rest of the fence was anything like the other side, then there was no way out. There was no grand escape. There was no way he could get help for Lloyd. There was no hope.
    And then it got worse.
    'Sam!'
    It came from the other side of the driveway, still quite far away, but too close. Sam turned and fled into the woods. He stumbled along blindly, trying to put as much distance between him and the voice as possible. Then he stopped. Think, Sam, think of a plan. He had to do something. Something clever. He ripped off the cuff of his shirtsleeve and headed back, only slowing down as he approached the gate. He caught a brief glimpse of the light of a torch as it swept a wide arc through the woods on the other side. He still had a little time left. He flung the cuff through