Jimmy keeps his back pressed against Boy’s Rock. He wants to enter the narrow tunnel to look for Naomi, but the dark terrifies him and his torch batteries are failing. He remembers his mother singing him to sleep as a boy, until the darkness felt as comforting as an embrace, her rose perfume scenting the air. But there’s no kindness in the atmosphere tonight, only fog rolling in from the sea.
His breathing quickens when he finally lowers himself through the opening, falling seven or eight feet before landing in a tunnel. The space is so confined he’s forced to crawl along on hands and knees. He tries to call Naomi’s name, but a whimper emerges from his lips instead. The air is toxic with chemicals and silence, and his torch beam narrows to a chalk mark, spiralling across muddy walls until it suddenly expires. Darkness paralyses him until something touches his hand.
A raw scream comes from Jimmy’s mouth when the sensation happens again; this time he feels a brush of fur and the sharp points of tiny claws. Rats are trying to flee, terrified by his sudden invasion. He gropes forward but finds only empty walls, his palms scraping over rough stone. A sound in the distance panics Jimmy again. If the killer finds him, he’ll have nowhere to hide.
He crawls back through the tunnel to the point where he entered. It requires all his strength to scramble up the vertical shaft once more, its walls slick with rain, then lever himself until his weight falls onto the wet grass. He wants to lie still and recover, but an owl screams out a warning from a low copse of trees. Jimmy rolls under some bushes, spikes of gorse scratching the back of his neck. Soon a new torch beam scours the earth, then a pair of muddy black boots pound across the grass at eye level while he tries not to breathe.