of rot compressed into a petrochemical sludge. I spat it out and tried to push myself up, but the effort was too much. Water had seeped inside my coat, chilling me to the bone. I was shuddering from the cold, my strength gone. I collapsed back into the mud.
Of all the bloody stupid ways to die.
It was so absurd it was almost funny.
I’m sorry, Jenny.
She’d been mad enough just because I came out here. She was going to be furious when she found out I’d let it kill me.
But the attempt at gallows humour failed miserably. Lying there, I felt anger as well as sadness.
So that’s it, is it?
I goaded myself.
You’re just going to give up?
It was then, when it could have gone either way, that I saw the light.
At first I thought I was imagining it. It was only a spark of yellow, dancing in the blackness ahead of me. But when I moved my head the light remained in the same place. I shut my eyes, opened them. The light was still there. I felt a surge of hope as I remembered Strachan’s house. That was closer than the village. Perhaps I’d wandered in the right direction after all.
Part of me knew even then that the light was too high to be coming from the house, but I didn’t care. It was something to aim for. Without even thinking about it, I crawled to my feet and began to stagger towards it.
The light hung above me, but how far away I couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. The yellow glow was the only thing in the universe, drawing me towards it like a moth. It steadily grew larger. Now I could see that it wasn’t constant, but flickered to some unheard rhythm. I was barely aware of the ground starting to rise towards it. It climbed still more, became steeper. I was using my one good arm to help pull me uphill, sometimes sinking to a crawl on my knees before stumbling upright again. But the light was closer. I fixed on it, shutting out everything else.
Then it was right in front of me. Not a car, not a house. Just a small, untended fire in front of a ruined stone hut. As disappointment started to filter through my daze, I began to take in what the firelight revealed. All around me were untidy mounds of rocks, and the sight of them stirred some dim connection. They weren’t natural formations, I realized.
They were burial cairns.
I could remember both Brody and Strachan mentioning them. And, remembering that, I knew I was even more lost than I’d thought.
I’d wandered all the way out to the mountain.
I swayed on my feet, the last of my reserves gone. As my vision swam, I became aware of movement in the mouth of the ruined hut. I stared, too numb and exhausted to move, as a hooded figure slowly emerged from inside. It stepped into the firelight, eyes reflecting the flames as they stared at me from beneath its hood.
Then the fire seemed to grow dark, and the night spun me off into darkness.
CHAPTER 9
THERE WAS NO wind. That was the first thought that came to me. No wind, no drumming of rain.
Just silence.
I opened my eyes. I was in a bed. Muted daylight filtered through pale curtains, revealing a large, white room. White walls, white ceiling, white sheets. My first thought was that it was a hospital, but then I realized most hospitals didn’t run to duvets and double beds. Or en suite glass shower rooms, come to that. And the raffia bedside table looked as if it had come straight from the pages of an interiors magazine.
But just then the fact that I didn’t know where I was didn’t bother me. The bed was warm and soft. I lay there for a while, my mind running over the last events I could remember. They came back to me surprisingly easily. The cottage. Abandoning the car. Falling in the dark, then heading for the distant fire.
That was where it grew hazy. The memories of stumbling up the mountainside and finding myself at the ancient burial cairns, and of the figure that had emerged from the ruined hut, had the surreal quality of a dream. I had disjointed images of being carried along in pitch blackness,
Of all the bloody stupid ways to die.
It was so absurd it was almost funny.
I’m sorry, Jenny.
She’d been mad enough just because I came out here. She was going to be furious when she found out I’d let it kill me.
But the attempt at gallows humour failed miserably. Lying there, I felt anger as well as sadness.
So that’s it, is it?
I goaded myself.
You’re just going to give up?
It was then, when it could have gone either way, that I saw the light.
At first I thought I was imagining it. It was only a spark of yellow, dancing in the blackness ahead of me. But when I moved my head the light remained in the same place. I shut my eyes, opened them. The light was still there. I felt a surge of hope as I remembered Strachan’s house. That was closer than the village. Perhaps I’d wandered in the right direction after all.
Part of me knew even then that the light was too high to be coming from the house, but I didn’t care. It was something to aim for. Without even thinking about it, I crawled to my feet and began to stagger towards it.
The light hung above me, but how far away I couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. The yellow glow was the only thing in the universe, drawing me towards it like a moth. It steadily grew larger. Now I could see that it wasn’t constant, but flickered to some unheard rhythm. I was barely aware of the ground starting to rise towards it. It climbed still more, became steeper. I was using my one good arm to help pull me uphill, sometimes sinking to a crawl on my knees before stumbling upright again. But the light was closer. I fixed on it, shutting out everything else.
Then it was right in front of me. Not a car, not a house. Just a small, untended fire in front of a ruined stone hut. As disappointment started to filter through my daze, I began to take in what the firelight revealed. All around me were untidy mounds of rocks, and the sight of them stirred some dim connection. They weren’t natural formations, I realized.
They were burial cairns.
I could remember both Brody and Strachan mentioning them. And, remembering that, I knew I was even more lost than I’d thought.
I’d wandered all the way out to the mountain.
I swayed on my feet, the last of my reserves gone. As my vision swam, I became aware of movement in the mouth of the ruined hut. I stared, too numb and exhausted to move, as a hooded figure slowly emerged from inside. It stepped into the firelight, eyes reflecting the flames as they stared at me from beneath its hood.
Then the fire seemed to grow dark, and the night spun me off into darkness.
CHAPTER 9
THERE WAS NO wind. That was the first thought that came to me. No wind, no drumming of rain.
Just silence.
I opened my eyes. I was in a bed. Muted daylight filtered through pale curtains, revealing a large, white room. White walls, white ceiling, white sheets. My first thought was that it was a hospital, but then I realized most hospitals didn’t run to duvets and double beds. Or en suite glass shower rooms, come to that. And the raffia bedside table looked as if it had come straight from the pages of an interiors magazine.
But just then the fact that I didn’t know where I was didn’t bother me. The bed was warm and soft. I lay there for a while, my mind running over the last events I could remember. They came back to me surprisingly easily. The cottage. Abandoning the car. Falling in the dark, then heading for the distant fire.
That was where it grew hazy. The memories of stumbling up the mountainside and finding myself at the ancient burial cairns, and of the figure that had emerged from the ruined hut, had the surreal quality of a dream. I had disjointed images of being carried along in pitch blackness,
Similar Books
