The Long Weekend by Savita Kalhan Page B

because the man was making enough racket to hide any noise that Sam made. He slammed the heel of his palm into it, swapping hands after several blows as his hands began to sting and then throb with pain. Why couldn't it have just opened? Why was everything so hard? Sam cried. Tears ran down his face, but he didn't bother trying to control them. He knew they would stop eventually.
    He had to keep stopping and checking that the man hadn't got through the bedroom door, which held him up because the window was still jammed shut and hadn't budged an inch. But with every slam from beyond the bathroom door, Sam knew the man was getting closer and closer.
    Sam went frantic and pummelled the window with both hands, screaming and crying at the same time. He wasn't even aware of the noise he was making any more. He didn't care; he just had to get out. A final flurry of blows and the window shot open without warning, just as the bathroom door juddered with a sickening thump.
    And then silence.
    The man was on the other side of the bathroom door. When had he got through the bedroom door? Sam didn't know. He didn't know how long he'd been standing outside listening to him screaming and crying. Sam held his breath, and waited for the man to speak through the door. It wouldn't be long, he thought. He was right – it wasn't.
    'I know you're in there, you silly boy. Come on now, open the door,' the man said. He said it very nicely, which wasn't what Sam was expecting at all. It would have been less freaky if he'd yelled and shouted at him.
    'It would save us both a lot of trouble if you just open the door, Sam,' and again it was said in that cloyingly nice and pleasant tone that made Sam's skin crawl.
    But Sam said nothing and he did nothing. He wasn't falling for that, and did the bloke really think he would be stupid enough to open the door?
    'Come on, Sam. Open the door and I'll explain the whole thing to you. Man to man.'
    Sam remained silent. As far as he was concerned nothing needed explaining. Sam was tempted to put his hands over his ears, but he needed to hear what the man was saying, too. It could all have been a silly misunderstanding, couldn't it?
    The man continued, 'Lloyd's not feeling too good, Sam. He's been asking for you,' the man said. 'You're not going to let him down are you?'
    Lloyd, why didn't you listen to me? Sam thought angrily, and then he felt really bad. It wasn't as though any of this was Lloyd's fault.
    'I don't know what you're so afraid of, lad, but you're going to have to come out of there sometime. Lloyd's really not well. I've had to call the doctor out for him. Go and sit with Lloyd while I go down and wait by the front door for the doctor. He'll be here soon.'
    Sam didn't believe him for a minute, although the bloke was good and Sam had to give him that. He was so convincing that just for a tiny split second, Sam almost thought about opening the door and going to Lloyd. He wanted to be with his friend. He was fed up with being on his own. But what good would that do any of them? No, the best way to help Lloyd was to get away and come back with help. Lots of it.
    Sam stuck his head out of the window and peered into the darkness. It was pitch black and he couldn't see a thing. In the background the man's voice droned on in its softly persuasive tone. Sam kept looking out of the window until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Now he could make out the outline of trees beyond the house, and between them an expanse of lawn dotted with shrubs and bushes.
    Then he looked directly down at the drop.
    Okay, it wasn't going to be easy, but it was doable. It was better than the alternative. So what was he waiting for? He looked at the drop again. It didn't look so bad, plus at the bottom there was some grass and bushes that would break his fall. He gripped both sides of the window and hoisted himself up so he was crouching on the narrow ledge. He looked down again, hesitating. He glanced back towards the bathroom