The Hollow Places Read Online Free PDF Page A

and no other part of him moved. He didn't
even appear to be breathing and Simon knew that it wouldn't be long
before he toppled over the edge like a domino.
    Terrified and
surprised by himself, Simon found that he was drifting forward to
stop him when the man bent down for his torch, groaned and,
contrary to Simon's expectations, turned to retrace his steps
through the forest.
    Simon
crouched, ready to defend himself, but while the man passed nearby,
he continued into darkness, back towards the road, torch light
fading.
    Simon
followed.
    Near the
cliff, where the ground had been damp, Simon had moved quietly, but
now, despite his best efforts, dry leaves and twigs crunched
underfoot, obvious to his ears. A small branch snapped and he
cursed to himself, ducking, but the man ahead kept moving, making a
racket himself and even tripping and falling a couple of times in
his hurry to get out of the trees. Simon walked as quickly as he
dared, determined to keep up; almost failing.
    As the man
reached the tarmac road, Simon was forced to stop because any noise
now would give him away. The man walked up the hill and retrieved
keys from his trouser pocket. A white Micra was parked on the verge
up ahead and Simon knew that as soon as the man reached it, this
episode would be over, without answers but, perhaps more
importantly, without being seen. He had done his best. Now it was
time to let go.
    He had
successfully kept a low profile over the last couple of years and
had been lucky too, even passing undetected on the one occasion he
had been stopped by police for speeding, so why in the hell was he
now stumbling out of the forest and saying:
    “Hi.”
    The man turned
as if yanked by a rope. His smart trousers and sensible, nylon
jacket bore the marks of his venture into the woods, but nothing
more so than his leather shoes, which were caked with mud. His hair
was greasy, abandoned. His eyes, terrified, gave away the fact that
whatever he had been doing in the woods, it was a guilty secret. He
watched, dumbstruck as Simon descended the bank and moved towards
him over the road.
    “I saw you,”
Simon said, with deliberate ambiguity.
    The man's face
slackened, but his eyes hardened. Simon assumed that he was making
calculations, despite his apparent shock. The fight or flight
response, but in slow-motion.
    “What do you
want?” the man asked.
    Good question.
He hadn't really had time to think about it.
    “I heard you,”
Simon said. “Are you ok?”
    “Fine.
Goodbye.”
    Simon kept
coming and the man stepped back, stumbling again. He seemed to be
slurring his words.
    “Why here?”
Simon said. “Why this place?”
    The man
shrugged.
    “Have you lost
something?”
    “Everything,”
he said. And then: “Haven't we all?” It was the first thing he said
that didn't seem to have been calculated, and he didn't regret his
spontaneity; he was angry. Simon, on the other hand, was now having
second thoughts. Since he had shown his face to this man, here
where he had delivered the French girl, he couldn't let him leave.
Perhaps it would have been better for him to have lived with the
curiosity and anxiety than to kill, particularly as he had not been
selected by the Creature. Wrong place. Wrong time. For both of
them.
    It might have
sounded like a normal exhalation, but in fact it was a sigh; having
decided to kill him, Simon became more bold.
    “Why were you
in the trees?”
    The man sensed
the shift in his tone and stood staring down at him for almost a
minute. He clenched and unclenched big fists, struggling to remain
calm. Seeing that Simon was implacable, he said very clearly:
    “Let’s not
make this worse than it needs to be. I’m walking away.”
    “Tell me,”
Simon said.
    The man only
shrugged. “You've decided that you have to kill me,” he said, “so
what benefit is it to me if I tell you? You're not a torturer. So
I'll take my chances.”
    After all the
pleas for help he had heard over the months, insane