Josh's face had a look of shock and disbelief, "What did you hear?" He asked.

"Muffled voices, rising and falling like you hear from a party; then Dylan shouting 'BIG UP FOR JUJU!" Followed by an uproar of laughter from who ever he's with, in there," I said, throwing my finger toward the exposed window.

Another roar of laughter from deep within the bowels of the building, seeped out the window, alerting us both and pricking up our ears.

This wave of mirth, triggered my impulsivity, and before I had time to think, I'd leapt back up onto the window ledge.

"BENITA!" Josh shouted, causing me to jolt and lose my footing. Knowing I was going to fall, I instinctively allowed my body loosen, to lessen the impact; but I fell into the gloomy space with my right foot taking the brunt of my fall.

The pain shot up from my foot and through my body with a nausea inducing dizziness. In an instant, Josh was at my side, cradling me, "Have you hurt yourself?" He asked.

Feeling myself wavering from hazy to clear, I managed to say, "My foot," during a lucid moment, before I blacked out.

I came to, and saw Josh shining his phone into my bare foot, my sock and trainer lying by my side. "What's happened?" I asked, disorientated.

"You hurt your ankle, but I don't think it's broke, sprained more like," he explained.

"How long have I been here?"

"No more than 60 seconds, you fainted," he said.

Looking up, I saw the sun begin it's final descent and the clarity of our situation hit me, "Let's get out of here; this place looks like rats live in it, and rats freak me out," I said, pushing myself up onto my un-injured foot, with Josh's help.

Standing flamingo like, I raised my arms and put my hands on the window ledge. Josh's hands gripped tight under my arm pits, "You need to think before you act, Benita, seriously," he said, not in a judgemental way, more in a constructive advice kind of way. "I know I do, I'll work on it," I said. My hands gripped the ledge and I felt Josh's muscles flex and tighten ready to thrust me upwards, "After three Benita: 1,2,3..."

...I used my leg like a piston, and this coupled with Josh's push threw me up and onto the ledge...SLAM...a shutter banged down, the force of it throwing me backwards. But Josh caught me, saving me from further injury.

The slamming shutter thrust us into a murky blackness. Josh shone his phone at the window and punched the shutter, "Metal, locked solid!"

We both paused in silence, before another roar of distant laughter from somewhere above us made its way to our ears. Taking Josh's advice, and following his example, I didn't react, I listened.

The laughter subsided and a familiar voice hit our ears, "I knew it, they're idiots. Or to be precise, our idiotic lambs have arrived in time for slaughter," the words delivered in Dylan's dulcet tones.

I looked at Josh, "That's definitely Dylan, isn't it?"

"Affirmative," he said, dialling his phone.

"Who you calling?"

"GG."

"Granny Grace, what can she do?"

He looked at me, the look on his face reflecting the seriousness of our situation, "A lot more than we can!" He said, looking at the newly sealed window.

He put his phone onto loudspeaker: "GG, we're in bother."

"Tell me about it sweetheart."

His face lit up, "You know our situation?"

"Course I don't, I know mine. I'm about to have a lie down, it'll take me a while to get over that one, he nearly had me he did."

Josh's face clouded, "What you saying, GG?"

"Dylan's dad, he's a proper fruit loop, a mentalist, a deranged. I couldn't hold back, it was either him or me, but I dulled him with a wack of my stick knob and sliced his throat, just in time."

"You've murdered him?" Asked Josh.

"Course I have, I had to. And I have to say, I'm getting a bit long in the tooth for this game, sweetheart, I'm knackered now."

"GG, you need to go to the police, Benita and I are sealed in this warehouse with Dylan, like father like son, spring to mind. It's not sounding healthy for us."

"Sweetheart, I'm an old lady, an ageing serial killer, I can't go to the old bill, my DNA's all over the shop. I don't want to spend my final days locked up. You two are youngsters, you'll find your way out of this drama..."

...Her voice cut out and Josh looked at his phone, and with an urgent yet calm tone said, "Not the best time to die, battery."

He turned to me, "Can I have your phone?" He asked.

I handed him both mums and mine, happy he was taking control as the throbbing in my foot was distracting me from our predicament.

The light of both phones illuminated the concern on his face, "No signal on either, this is a worry." He scanned the space then looked back at the phones, "And 30 percent battery on this one, 25 on this." He thumbed off mum's phone, "We save the battery on this one, and use this as a torch. Come Benita, we've got to find a signal in this place, and fast." He said, putting his hand around my waist and ducking his head down, "Put your arm round my shoulder, I'm your crutch."

No sooner was I upright and holding onto his shoulder than Dylan's voice seeped into the space again, dripping with malevolence, "Go get them, let our preparations begin." His voice seemed to be specially fed into the space, for our ears only. His voice was followed by a group of voices, replying almost choir like, "Your command shall be fulfilled, Pastor Dylan."

Josh stood tall, his chin and jawline jutted with a firm and controlled anger, "Pastor Dylan, you better start praying Joshua isn't delivered to you, cos my furious fist will meet your face," he said, before calmly thrusting the phone forward.

The light scanned the old space, which was like a derelict cinema, with banks of dusty seats in front of a small stage area. While our eyes searched the space, our ears picked up the sound of approaching footfall above us. Josh flicked the phone toward the ceiling, "That sounds like a big group," he said, flicking the phone back down.

I saw something in the fleeting light, "Go back Josh, over there," I said, guiding his hand. The light focussed on a door, in the far corner of the large space.

With the increasing sound of considerable footfall above us, we made for the door; I hopped, with Josh's help. "I can't believe I got Dylan so wrong," I said, as we neared the door.

"Don't focus on betrayal Benita, keep your energy on escape," he said, with his usual confident calm.

As the footfall increased in speed, so did Josh; and I did my best to match my hop with his pull.

With our sight limited, our ears worked extra hard to gauge our situation, "They're jumping down stairs, getting closer, hop to it Benita." Ignoring my pain I leapt like a rabbit hopping for its life, until we reached the door.

"Hold this," said Josh, handing me the phone. Worryingly, as soon as he handed it to me, the words 'Battery Low' flashed on the screen.

The footsteps increased in pace, and their elevated sound told me they were getting closer.

Josh pushed the door. Nothing.

He struggled with the large metal doorknob. It wouldn't move, stuck solid with age.

A heavily accented male voice rang out, "They're in the old cinema!" Followed by running steps, ever closer.

The words on the phone again: Battery Low 10%

My heart began to beat with the rhythm of the approaching footsteps.

The phone in my hand continued to torment me: Battery Low 5%

Our light would die soon.

Suddenly, Josh sprinted past me, leaving me wobbling unsteadily on my one leg.

"What you doing?" I shouted, fearing his abandonment.

"Hop away from the door, NOW!"

He charged forward, then leapt upwards, his legs flying towards the door like two exocet missiles.

Then the phone died.

A crunching, crashing sound was followed by...blackness...followed by...silence.

Then the rush from behind me of a crowd obeying the command – "GRAB HER!"

I couldn't look behind, I couldn't run forward. So I froze and awaited my fate.

Strong arms enveloped me, clasped behind my back and dragged me backwards. I succumbed and loosened my body, allowing myself to be dragged like a suitcase on wheels.

"Kick em Benita!" Shouted Joshua, as I continued to travel.

But all was black; I saw no target for my kick, until I felt it, a hand grappling for my ankle, my good ankle. I drew back and kicked out and up. I felt my foot meet something hard, followed by the violent crack and crunch of human bone. Then I was flung forcefully around, my body spinning round the floor like I was on some sort of out of control fairground ride.

When I eventually stopped, I became aware of: thumping, banging, crashing and scraping sounds, like heavy furniture being dragged across floors.

My head was dizzy and disorientated, and I held it in my hands until I steadied. It was then I became aware of light; a strange blue light surrounded me.

I became aware of a hissing and panting sound, like someone fighting for their life. I looked around, and saw Josh heaving a heavy chest against the door. His attention turned to a huge, old-fashioned wardrobe, which he pushed against the door, wedging it shut.

Then the male voice with the accent, announced, "We'll be back...soon...meanwhile, enjoy the exhibition. We look forward to seeing you both, in it – soon!" His voice full of an excited glee.

Josh slumped to the ground and put his head in his hands, breathing heavily. I crawled towards him, dragging my injured ankle. He looked down at me. His face, bathed in the strange blue light, looked soft and serene, "That was close," he said, cupping my face in his hand. He rubbed his thumb against my cheek, a sweet, affectionate gesture that really soothed me.

"Did you see who they were?" I asked.

"They were hazy in this blue light, but I guess they were guys, dressed in long white, hooded robes."

I looked at him, "You 'guessed' they were guys?" I asked.

He shook his head, as if in disbelief, "Their faces were covered with those stupid celebrity card board masks, of Prince William and Kate," he said.

Despite the gravity of our situation, I laughed as I pulled myself up to a sitting position. My laughter was obviously infectious as Josh joined in and said, "You took a Prince William out with your kick, Benita," he said, between peels of laughter.

"I know, I heard it, I might of broke his neck," I said, sitting next to him, my head instinctively resting on his shoulder.

Our laughter subsided and we remained sitting together, until our heart rate and breathing returned to normal.

A soothing serenity, that was at odds with our situation washed over me. I could have sat right there, with Josh, forever. But we had our lives to save, and Josh's question brought me back to our reality:

"What's this place all about?" He asked.

The room was large, almost like an art gallery type space, but the blue light gave it an extra terrestrial, other wordily feel. Continually scanning, taking it all in, I saw plinths, like the kind you see in a gallery, with sculptures on.

Both Josh and I focussed on what was on the plinths, simultaneously, "Heads?" I said, unsure what they were.

Josh pulled me up, and I took my crutch position on him. "Rotting skulls, to be precise," he said, as we neared a plinth. The stench held me back, but Josh peered in, "Please don't say it's human?" He stood back, "It looks like a dog's head." He moved along all the plinths and then back to me, "They all look like dog and cat heads, with wigs on. It's some kind of sick art exhibition, using their sacrificial animal's heads," he observed.

My eyes wandered into the centre of the space, to two larger, central plinths. I hopped towards them, and used one of the plinths to steady myself. They were the only two that displayed no gruesome artefact, but what they did have on them made my blood run cold, "Josh, get over here, you need to see this!"

He ran to my side and I pointed at what was on each plinth. Josh glanced from one to the other, reading aloud the title cards that were on each one, "JOSHUA and BENITA!"

The fear began to rise, "I don't want our heads ending up on these plinths, Josh..."