"Run," croaked Sam.

We did.

His screams and the awful cracking noises followed us through the darkened hallway, down the stairs and to the front door. It was jammed, of course. We would have to get out the way we came - through the window in the cellar.

Through the door, down the treacherously steep stairs, over the heaps of junk.

"We shouldn't have left him!" sobbed Anthea.

I didn't reply. I couldn't find the window.

We heard the door slam, and the flashlight flickered and died.

Silence. I felt around for Anthea, but I couldn't find her.

"Run," croaked Sam.