Twist Of Fate

Twenty Five

CHLOE

For a moment I am frozen to the spot. I can feel sweat leaking out of my pores and my heart is beginning to thud furiously against the inside of my ribcage. I watch in horror as our waitress from breakfast appears, approaching the police officers with apprehensive curiosity. I duck around the corner of the bannister out of sight and strain my ears to listen to their conversation.

Please let this be a false alarm. Please let this be a routine call.

"Wondering if you have seen this man... wanted in connection with a murder in South London last week... last seen boarding a train northbound on this railway line..."

I daren't listen to any more, but take the remaining stairs silently, two at a time, hurtle along the corridor and shove my key into the door of our room, jiggling it impatiently until the door swings open and I practically fall inside and hastening to close it behind me to avoid being seen. Harry takes one look at my face and understands immediately. He gets to his feet, all colour draining from his face, and crosses the room to stand a couple of feet away from the window overlooking the road, close enough to be able to see out but far enough away not to be seen if anyone happened to be looking up at the window.

"Fucking police car outside," he croaks.

"They're looking for you - they asked about you at reception," I pant, clutching my chest to try and calm my heart that is now beating so hard it hurts. 

"I need to get out of here."

"How? They're downstairs in the lobby!"

I can feel the room starting to swim before my eyes as panic grips me in its iron fist, squeezing the breath out of me.

"Fire escape."

"Wh - where?" I wheeze, struggling to speak.

"At the back of the building. Get your bags. Come on. Come on, Chloe!" He hisses these last few words as he pulls the camping rucksack onto his back, forcing the straps impatiently over his shoulders before handing me my own backpack. "Fucking get your shit together. Now is not the time to have a meltdown!"

"I'm - I -"

My breath is coming in short, sharp gasps. Colours burst before my eyes. I reach for the wall to steady myself as Harry opens the door a crack and peers out into the hallway.

"The coast is clear, but we have to go now," he urges. His voice sounds echoey and strangely far away. "Chloe! If you don't snap out of this I'm going to leave you here. Don't make me leave you behind, you stupid cow! Fucking move!"

I feel a hard shove between my shoulder blades and I stumble into the door frame. It is enough to bring the room sharply back into focus, and Harry's face comes into view, inches from mine. "I'm going, Chloe. I mean it. Bye."

He turns away from me, but I reach out and grab the strap of his rucksack. "No - wait..."

With a last glance behind me at our now-empty room I manage to follow Harry back along the corridor towards the stairs I have just ascended, but instead of taking them back down to reception he turns right through a heavy fire door with wire-enforced glass that I have not noticed before, with a green sign above it that reads FIRE EXIT with an arrow pointing diagonally downwards. The door shuts behind us with a soft squelch, and beyond it is another door with a grey push-open handle, that will undoubtedly set off the fire alarm, alerting everyone - police and guests included - of our whereabouts.

A large window beside it sits ajar at chest height and Harry pushes it as wide as it will go, swinging it to about forty-five degrees and lowering his rucksack and holdall out onto the black metal steps below. They land with a gentle clink and he hauls himself up onto the frame on his hands, balancing for a second and then cocking first one leg and then the other over the windowsill with surprising grace. He drops to his feet before extending his hand to me. I pull my bag off my back and pass it out the window to him, before jumping up at the window just as he has done and climbing through. The fire escape runs alongside the first floor for approximately twelve feet, with a set of steps at the end which zig zags down to a small car park below. Once we are both on our feet with our bags on our backs we tiptoe as quietly as we can, Harry leading the way, taking each step quickly but carefully. My pulse is thundering in my ears, becoming louder and louder as we approach the ground. I want to look behind me to make sure we are not being followed but my imagination is full of clammy hands only inches behind, reaching to grab me, and I can't bring myself to turn around. I follow Harry at as calm a pace as I can manage, and by the time my feet hit the tarmac my heart is in my mouth.