Mount Mercy

But at least she’d been safe there. That protective urge came back, stronger than ever. If we got into trouble there was no cell service and no one to come for us. The lack of cars on the road and the way the snow deadened all sound made it seem even lonelier. All we could hear was the crunch of our shoes: it was like we were the only two people in the world.

I was fighting with myself. I didn’t want her here. But there was no one I’d rather be alone with.

It got tougher and tougher as we climbed higher. Our scrub pants were soaked through and the cold crept into our muscles, then our bones. Every breath of air was painful: it was so far below freezing, the air felt like a million sharp-edged ice crystals, burning our lungs. A mile in this would seem like ten. “Talk to me,” I said. I’d been on plenty of long hikes in Africa and one thing I’d learned was that talking makes them go faster.

Beckett glanced across at me, as horrified as if I’d asked her to strip naked.

“Anything,” I pressed. “Tell me about growing up.”

And slowly, grudgingly, as we panted and shivered and forced our way through the drifts, she told me. She told me about how her dad had won awards for his painstaking work, spending weeks teasing out the secrets of some minute insect’s anatomy. How he was even more shy and awkward than she was. She never used the word Asperger’s, but all the signs were there. When I heard about her mom dying, it suddenly all made sense. A shy kid, raised by a dad who was probably a high-functioning autistic. No wonder she’d gotten used to hiding, no wonder she needed order and quiet.

And now she was having to deal with the ER, in a crisis, with some far-right maniac on the loose. She was braver than even I’d given her credit for. A big swell of hot emotion rose up inside me, so fast and strong it took me by surprise. She needed protecting, dammit! From the world, but from herself, too. She needed to be gently tempted out into the daylight, to be shown the world she was missing. She needed—

Me?

My jaw set. Memories of Chrissy grabbed hold of me and tugged me down, down into the blackness. I couldn’t give her that. I couldn’t give anyone that.

We reached the top of the rise. The trees thinned out and the ground mercifully leveled off. And there it was in front of us, a car crumpled from impacts with trees but still recognizable, a dark shape visible in the driver’s seat.

Beckett was a second faster than me to react. She ran forward, staggering in the deep snow. The last rays of sun sparkled on the surface, blinding bright. Hiding the—

I gave an animal cry of fear and lurched forward. Grabbed for her and missed. Snagged the hood of her parka and hauled, pulling her right off her feet. I tumbled backwards and we both went down on our asses with her on top of me. At first, she couldn’t see what I’d saved her from. Then the sun’s glare faded a little and she went pale.

Less than six feet in front of her, the ground fell away. We’d emerged from the forest on a cliff that plunged a hundred feet straight down. And the car was balanced right on the edge.

27

Amy

WE SHUFFLED slowly towards the cliff edge, Corrigan’s hand grasping mine. As we got closer, we dropped to our hands and knees. The snow had drifted up into a bank that hung out over the edge in places and if we didn’t feel our way, we might fall through into nothingness.

The car was resting with its front wheels over the edge. As we drew level with the driver’s door, my shadow fell across the woman inside and she moaned and turned towards me—

And the car slid.

We hadn’t realized, but the ground beneath the snow sloped down a little towards the edge. Between the weight of the engine dragging it forward and the slick, icy ground, any tiny motion would send the car sliding right off the cliff.

“Jesus!” Corrigan threw open the door, lunged inside, grabbed Sophie’s shoulder, and tried to pull her out. But she jerked to a sudden stop and screamed in pain. Her leg was caught.

Corrigan looked at me helplessly. The car slid soundlessly past us, inch after inch….

And stopped. The front doors were now level with the edge. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“We’ve got to secure the car,” said Corrigan, his face pale. “I’ll try to find something. Stay with her.”

I nodded, as shaken as him. “Try not to move,” I told Sophie, but she didn’t respond: she was only semi-conscious. She had long, chestnut hair and it had fallen forward over her face. Very carefully, I reached in and brushed it back so that I could see her. She couldn’t have been more than 18 or 19 and she was pretty, with delicate features that matched her slender, elegant figure. But the cold had turned her skin, bone white and her breathing was shaky: maybe hypothermia, maybe something worse.