Trembling, Alfie put this hand into his jacket pocket. Shit. Fuck. He’d left his gun in the car and the problem was, he didn’t know who they were, or how many of them there were. Maybe the best thing he could do was go back to the car; at least then he’d be armed and would stand some kind of chance.

With his mind made up, Alfie darted back the way he came, but at the end of the corridor where the stone stairs were, he could see someone was down near the side door where he’d come in. Hurriedly, he backtracked, trying to find another way to get out, frantically running along the corridor, hoping to head towards the other side of the building.

At the end of one of the corridors, Alfie stopped. He could hear the sound of the small child’s crying getting louder, echoing around the building and he panicked. Alfie turned around, running as fast as he could to try to work out where the child was.

Drenched with sweat, Alfie felt like he was in a maze, the echoes of the different sounds making it almost impossible to work out where he needed to head to. A cry below him made Alfie run to the edge of the open landing and, horrified, he saw a little boy being dragged roughly along by a tall man, who looked to be in his forties.

The noise of Alfie’s feet on the wooden boarding made the man look up, and on seeing Alfie, he picked up the boy and ran.

Charging down the stairs, feeling the tightness in his chest, Alfie yelled, ‘Oi! Oi! Wait! Wait!’

Suddenly a shot was fired, hitting the wall, and Alfie threw himself on the ground, ducking down as the bullets ricocheted off the discarded steel drums. He rolled out of the way and then crawled along on his hands and knees, pulling himself back up at the door.

Dashing along, Alfie charged down the hallway. Although he wasn’t armed, he was determined he wasn’t going to lose them, but a clatter from nearby made him halt. Breathing hard, he pressed his body into the shadows again, hearing footsteps getting nearer.

He could feel his heart thumping as he waited to see if whoever it was, was going to pass by. But suddenly the footsteps stopped, and he could hear nothing but the sound of the hailstones outside.

As he stood, pinning himself to the wall, Alfie could sense that whoever it was seemed to know he was there too. As he tried to hold his breath, not wanting to make a sound, he readied himself, then silently counted down before leaping out from the shadows.

The tall grey-haired man stood holding a little boy, no older than six or seven, but the man began to back away as Alfie ordered, ‘Put him down … I said, put him down.’