Jason stopped stamping and tilted his head. What was that? Electrics? He could hear a droning hum and recognised the sound of an electrical generator when he heard one. He turned round slowly and tried to determine where the droning was coming from. Rowan helped him by screaming his name, sending him into an utter panic. Jason set off at a sprint in the direction of the scream and skidded to a halt when he saw the locked gate he'd just tried, by the shattered loud speaker. He stood and looked round for another way through and heard another scream. Four? Did she yell four?
"What the hell's she doing?" He shouted and darted at the gate more by reflex than common sense. It swung open as soon as he touched it. Jason didn't have time to question this and he started running again. He rounded a corner and saw flickering grey light spilling out into the dirty corridor. The hum of machinery was almost deafening and the screech of metal on metal made Jason clutch his ears. The door was a proper door, not a barred one, and the top half was made of reinforced glass, shatter-proof glass, that was cracked but not broken. It was also locked. Jason took a few steps back then booted it, followed by a shoulder barge. It wasn't a solid as the bars so he took another kick at it, and another.
Rowan stumbled to her feet, clutching her head and tried to block out that awful sound. They were here! Someone was breaking the door down! Rowan kicked with all her strength at the base of one of the couches, sending it crashing against the door. The door gave way and Jason stumbled in, falling head first over the couch. Rowan jammed one of the metal restraining buckles into the generator and was jolted back by a searing electrical current. Screeching metal and the droning hum throbbed through Rowan's head and were added to by the roars of her captor as wave after wave of current surged through the couch and through his body.
"Shit! Shut it off! Shut it off!" Brian Charlton shrieked at his technicians.
"Jesus Christ." Stewart just gaped at Alan, then his Superintendent in shock. Jason eventually slumped to the floor and the humming had stopped. "Fuck me! Is he dead? Charlton! Is he fucking dead?" Stewart screamed.
The studio audience fell into a stunned silence as they stared at the picture on the plasma screen infront of them. Jason Jenkinson lay on the floor with blood pouring from his nose, as well as from a host of cuts and scratches from the shattered safety glass. He was a sickly grey colour and rapidly evaporating sweat could be seen on his veined temples. Rowan Hall was curled up against the wall with her arms over her head, an ugly scorch mark ran from her wrist to the crook of her arm.
"Everything is under control." Patrick Adams said calmly, even though the yelling and chaos down his earpiece suggested differently. "I can assure you that no live currents could have been emitted from that generator." He lied.
"How about live cuts and burns from your shitty props!" Someone in the audience shouted.
"All within accepted standards." Adams resorted to a stock answer. "However, the area is being reconfigured as we speak. That area will be locked off remotely as soon as they leave it. It's under control, like I said."
"You bringing them out?" Someone shouted. "I paid a bloody fortune for this ticket!"
"Of course he's bringing them out!" Someone else replied. "He looks dead. Is he dead, Adams?" The audience began murmuring and the camera angle switched to other parts of the abandoned jail. "He is! They've turned the camera off!"
"No one is dead, sir." Adams held up his hands. "We'll assess the situation during the commercial break. Thank you for your support and patience." He walked off the stage as quickly as his dignity would allow.
Backstage was chaotic and the switchboards were jammed.
"Get me Charlton and get him NOW!" Adams barked. Phyllis came running towards him with a mobile phone.
"Stupid bitch!" Brian sobbed hysterically.
"So is your mother for ever giving birth to you!" Adams roared. "How the hell did that happen? How?"
"We still have the secondary cameras on them, sir." Brian babbled. "I'll monitor Jenkinson for movement."
"You'd better hope he obliges, Charlton, otherwise I'll have your balls for paperweights!"
"He'll have to stand in line!" Stewart bellowed and lunged for Brian Charlton. He was intercepted by three technicians, and Superintendent McManus. "He needs a bloody doctor!" Stewart yelled. "They both do!"
"You heard Mr Adams. No live currents." Brian swallowed hard.
"Bollocks! B. O. Locks! She has a very nasty burn and he's been electrocuted! You simpering little shit! Trust me, I'll see the lot of you in F1 for this!" Stewart ranted.
"Come on, outside." The Superintendent hauled Stewart out of the caravan. "OK cool it."
"What?!" Stewart exploded. "Cool it? With all respect sir, kiss my bloody arse!"
"I'll let that slide under the circumstances. This has gone too far. Are you hearing me? I'm agreeing with you." McManus said calmly. "The assurances I've had that all was above board and safe are phenomenal and from quite phenomenal sources."
"Well it obviously isn't safe, is it? That was electrocution, I don't give a shit what that arsehole and his boss says." Stewart snapped. "Where's the bloody cars? You managed to get me and Alan here just fine. Sort it."
"You aren't listening. I'm agreeing with you." McManus said patiently.
"Oh I'm listening. I heard you." Stewart said angrily. "Agree now it's gone wrong. Too little, too late, sir. It never should have ever been endorsed in the first place."
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