Chapter 2 – Robyn
My hiding place was not the best; granted; but it was doing the job, for the moment at least. The stench from the bin bags I was crouching behind was overpowering and it made my eyes water but I would just have to bear it until the Snatchers left. One of them walked past, murmuring under his breath. I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying but it still scared me. I clenched my fists, trying to prepare myself for what would happen if I was found. My mind wandered back to the plan Grace and I had come up with. We were going to open up some of these bin bags and throw the rubbish everywhere to make it look like people had left the alley, but we ran out of time. It probably would have made too much noise anyway.
The Snatcher from before came back the other way and stopped in front of the bin bags with his back to me. I had a close look at him and tried to take in everything and memorise it. The information could be useful later on, if they came our way again. He was tall and thin, dressed in black combat trousers and a baggy hooded jumper. He carried his torch in one hand and a huge black sack in the other. There was also something that looked like a rucksack on his back and some kind of walkie-talkie on his belt. It crackled, making me gasp. I clapped my hands to my mouth and shrank further behind the bin bags into the corner.
“Report?” said the scratchy voice of a man on the other end.
“Just a moment, sir,” the Snatcher replied in a muffled voice, “I think I might have something here.”
Oh, no. Had he found me? I held my breath and grasped my club ever tighter. The Snatcher turned around and craned his neck over the bin bags. I couldn’t look. I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid of what would happen next. He stretched out a bony arm and pushed aside one of the bin bags.
“Hello, princess.” He said menacingly.
I was frozen with fear; literally rooted to the spot. I opened my eyes slowly and took a look at the Snatcher’s face. I nearly screamed. He was wearing an old fashioned costume mask. It was wooden and painted intricately with a face on it. The eyes, with small, narrow slits in them for the Snatcher to see out of, were wide and bulging and they seemed to be staring right at me. The nose was long, thin and flat with painted dots for nostrils, but scariest of all was the mouth. It was distorted into a crazed smile, half open, half closed, and hanging, suspended from its top lip, were jagged, wooden fangs. That must have been why the Snatcher’s voice sounded so muffled, because the mask was in the way.
This was it. He had found me and he was going to take me back to the Snatcher building and I would never be seen again. Jack and Oscar and Grace would have to go on without me and I would probably die at the hands of these strangers. My pride went out the window and, for the first time in years, I began to cry. Sobs shook my shoulders as he reached out towards me, holding an old, dirty rag. I got up and tried to run, blinded by tears. I pushed him backwards, into the bin bags and he fell, arms flailing, onto his back. He cursed under his breath and stood up again, but not before I had darted past the pile, club in hand.
The chase was on. He dashed after me, panting as I ran. There could only have been two metres between us and I tried to steal a glance behind me; a fatal mistake. I tripped over a raised cobble and went flying through the air, landing awkwardly on my stomach and winding myself. My club had soared out of my hand and hit the floor of the damp, moss-covered alley, far out of my grasp. I was stuck. I gasped for air but I still felt like I was suffocating. He crept closer to me, retrieving the rag from his pocket. He crouched towards me and grabbed me by the hair. I winced in pain as I tried to crawl away but he held on tighter. I wanted to call out to the others for help, but then they would be captured too. If I was going to escape, I would have to do it alone. I bit my lip and braced myself for what was to come. He pulled my head towards him and I lurched forward. I was thrust to the floor, lying on my back and he straddled my stomach. I twisted this way and that but he held me down with an iron grip. The rag was stuffed into my mouth. I tried to scream but it stole my words. I thrashed my legs, trying to kick him but it was no use. Then he flipped me over onto my stomach and grabbed my arms. He held them with one hand after shaking off the rucksack and taking out a rope, which he held between his teeth. He twisted my arms behind my back and held them there while he got the rope again and bound my wrists, then did the same thing with my ankles. I was left on the floor while he stood up and opened up the sack. I sobbed into the rag and wriggled helplessly on the ground as the Snatcher spoke into his walkie-talkie.
“Back up, with me,” he whispered, “near the opening to the road.”
The dull thud of booted footsteps echoed around the alleyway as more Snatchers approached from around the corner. I could hear one of them clap the first Snatcher on the back to congratulate him. One of them held the sack open as the first one lifted me up, kicking wildly, and put me inside. I took a last glimpse of moonlight as the sack was tied shut and darkness consumed me. I was lifted up and thrown onto someone’s shoulder. He began to walk, bobbing me up and down with each footstep. The only sound was their repetitive footsteps: thud, thud, thud, thud. I was overwhelmed by fear and I must have fainted because I don’t remember anything else of my journey; my journey to my prison…
