Saturday 5 February, 04:12
The silver moonlight from the window cast an eerie light into the room, with the shadows of the window frame throwing bars across her bed, making her feel as if she were in a cage.
She felt groggy and confused as she remembered where she was. Not at home, but in this strange place. There were noises, shouting, and then Philip burst into her room. Her heart raced and she scrabbled away from him, sitting herself up on the other side of the bed. He leaned over and grabbed her arm, wrenching her from the bed. She realized in horror that she’d followed a complete stranger into the wilderness.
Then the smell hit her – smoke and burning petrol, acidic in her throat.
‘The cottage is on fire. We’ve got to get out.’ Philip dragged her to her feet, his Glock 17 in his other hand. She nodded, staggering towards the door.
Philip opened it and she was shocked at the smoke in the corridor. She turned back to her bedroom. ‘The window.’ She pointed at it.
‘None of the windows open. The front door is our only chance.’ He pulled her back towards the smoky corridor, ducked down and ran towards the living room. She followed suit, keeping her head low.
The fire was raging in the living room, strongest near the fireplace, and the smell of burning petrol and chemicals was overpowering here. Had they poured petrol down the cottage chimney or were they behind her, somewhere inside the building?
She felt lightheaded; she could barely breathe. Panic was taking hold, but she pushed it down, trying to rub the black chemical smoke out of her eyes and keep up with Philip.
‘When we get out of here, run to the car,’ he said. He pushed the car keys into her hand, then turned to the door, drawing back the bolts and unlocking it. Her coat was by the door and she pulled it on. Inside one of the pockets was her pocketknife – better than nothing.
Philip flung the door open, which only served to fan the flames in the living room behind them, and the fire leapt higher. The heat on her back was extraordinary as she ran into the cold night air.
Philip was in front of her, his Glock 17 held out in front of him as he swung it at the treeline, looking for danger. Dark smoke billowed out of the cottage and surrounded them. She couldn’t see anything.
She knew where the car was, even if she couldn’t see it; they’d parked it just to the right of the cottage. She sprinted to it as she heard a gunshot ring out, and then another. She unlocked the driver’s door and flung it open, getting inside and locking the door behind her.
Another three gunshots rang out as she turned the engine on. Philip came staggering towards her, his pistol swinging wildly in her direction, and alarm took hold of her for a second.
His other hand was clamped around a knife protruding from his neck. He sank to his knees and waved the gun at her, as if telling her to get away from him. He fired his gun into the treeline again several times.
Loxton put the car into reverse, but she couldn’t get near him because he kept firing his pistol. Once he’d emptied the chamber, another knife flew from the treeline, smashing into his neck, this time into the right side. His arm dropped and his face paled horribly. Blood spurted out from his neck at an alarming rate.
Loxton reversed the car and shielded Philip from the woods. She unlocked the car and leaned across to open the passenger door.
‘Get in!’ she shouted.
He held out the gun to her. She grabbed it and shouted again. ‘Get in, now!’
His eyes met hers, and she knew it was useless; the blood oozing from his neck meant he’d be dead within a minute. He grimaced and his eyes rolled backwards as he fell onto his side on the ground. A knife hit her window, but it didn’t even leave a scratch, bouncing harmlessly off the bulletproof glass. She crawled over the passenger seat and saw that he wasn’t breathing. He was dead.
Another throwing knife hit the window. She had to get out of here. She checked the magazine of the handgun, but it was empty, and her pocketknife wasn’t going to save her. She crawled back into the driver’s seat, slamming the passenger door shut behind her, relieved as the doors automatically locked.
She slammed her foot on the accelerator, the car skidding with the force forward, and for a horrible moment it careered wildly. She quickly managed to gain control and drive down the lane towards the main road, but then she heard a rhythmic thudding coming from the wheels. They’d been slashed. She had no mobile and the vehicle was slow. Her life was in the balance.