Backwards Into Hell

Part Two: The LFG

Abigail's Diary

Wednesday 27th October

Harriet's face was everywhere—every TV screen, every phone, every conversation. It was all about her, and I couldn't bear to watch because if one of them was gone, and killed in such a brutal way, didn't that suggest the rest had suffered the same fate?

As I sat by the window, watching the rain and scrolling through the latest updates, something felt off. The police released more details that morning. Harriet's body had been found arranged on a chair in the dining room, and, bafflingly, no one had a clue how she'd gotten there.

Her neck had been hacked to pieces.

All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and sob. Would someone do that my Caleb? To my child?

I wasn't going to give up on him. Not that easily.

So as the rumours continued to swirl, I zombie-walked to the kitchen and prepared breakfast—a very strong coffee and a piece of dry toast. Everyone who'd been at The Lodge that evening would now be a suspect—especially people who'd been talking about breaking in—and, despite that, I wanted more than anything to be back there, in the muddy grass and watching the sun crawl across the sky.

Yesterday, the body emerged just as I was about to leave. What if I'd gone five minutes earlier? What if it had been Caleb? I didn't want to miss a thing. So, despite my congenital hatred of camping, I decided to give in and join the others.

After a while, Sam came into the kitchen, dressed again in his ill-kept suit, with the same kind face and slightly messy hair.

'Morning,' he said, opening the fridge, grabbing some milk, and pausing on the centre of the tiles. 'I heard about last night.'

I nodded, gritting my teeth to keep from choking up. 'At least it wasn't... you know.'

He smiled sadly. 'You'll be wanting a tent then.'

I looked up with raised eyebrows. Was I really that obvious?

'I've got one in the back you can borrow, but—' he set down the milk and moved to a pile of something hidden by a tea towel on the side— 'I can't let you go without these.'

He whisked the towel away to reveal a big Tupperware with layers upon layers of fresh cookies, and I wanted to hug him.

'We made them all up yesterday.' He grinned. 'Well, I say we, but if I'd made them they'd be little more than ash, I'm afraid.'

                                                                                            ***

A few hours later, full of coffee and cookies and with Sam's tent strapped to my back, I arrived at The Lodge, ready to stay this time.

As I approached the tents, John saw me instantly and a big, boyish grin flashed onto his face as he rushed to help.

'I knew you'd come around,' he said, taking the tent poles from my back.

Trying to ignore the heat in my cheeks, I fumbled to find the cookies. 'Not only that—I come bearing gifts.'

'Brilliant.' We found a spot for my tent next to Sapphire's and John promised to help me put it up later. For the moment, though, he eyed the cookies. 'Do you mind if I...?'

'Go for it.'

He took the box with his rough hands and proceeded to move through camp, knocking (if you can knock on fabric) on each tent door and occasionally pointing to me when they asked who the gifts were from. People were more than happy to see something sweet after the countless eggy sandwiches of the past few days.