“It’ll take your hand off,” was how she put it.
Going downhill now. There’s a click . . . and the burning starts.
But you’ve got the plan.
You stop and submerge your wrist in the stream. The stream hisses. The water helps, although it’s a strange sort of gloopy, sticky potion and won’t wash away easily. And more will come out. And you have to keep going.
You pad the band out with wet moss and peat. Dunk it under again. Stuff more padding in. It’s taking too long. Get going.
Downhill.
Follow the stream.
The trick is not to mind about your wrist. Your legs feel fine. Covering lots of ground.
And anyway losing a hand isn’t that bad. You can replace it with something good . . . a hook . . . or a three-pronged claw like the guy in Enter the Dragon . . . or maybe something with blades that can be retracted, but, when you fight, out they come, ker-ching . . . or flames even . . . no way are you going to have a fake hand, that’s for sure . . . no way.
Your head’s dizzy. Buzzing too, though. Your body is trying to heal your wrist. You never know, you might get out of this with two hands. Still, the trick is not to mind. Either way, you’re out.
Got to stop. Douse it in the stream again, put some new peat in and get going.
Nearly at the loch.
Nearly.
Oh yes. Bloody cold.
You’re too slow. Wading is slow but it’s good to keep your arm in the water.
Just keep going.
Keep going.
It’s a bloody big loch. But that’s okay. The bigger the better. Means your hand will be in water longer.
Feeling sick . . . ughhh . . .
Shit, that hand looks a mess. But the acid has stopped coming out of the wristband. You’re going to get out. You’ve beaten her. You can find Mercury. You will get three gifts.
But you’ve got to keep going.
You’ll be at the end of the loch in a minute.
Doing well. Doing well.
Not far now.
Soon be able to see over into the valley, and—
AND HERE’S AN EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PEEK AT HALF WILD, COMING IN MARCH 2015!
a crossbill calls
another bird replies, not a crossbill
the first bird takes over again
and again
the crossbill—
shit, it’s morning
i’ve been asleep
it’s morning, very early
shit, shit, shit
need to wake up need to wake up
can’t believe i’ve been asl—
chchchchchchchhchchchcchhhhhchchchhchcchchchhhchchchhchchchcchchhcchcchchchhchchchhcchchchchchchhchchchchchhchchchchhchhhchchchchccchchchchchhchchchchhchchchhchchchchhchchchhchhchchchchchchchchchhchhhchchccchchchchhchchchhhchc
SHIT!
the noise is here. HERE!
chchchchchchchhchchchcchhhhhchchchhchcchchchhhchchchhchchchcchchhcchcchchchhchchchhcchchchchchchhchchchchchhchchchchhchhhchchchchccchchchchchhchchchchhchchchhchchchchhchchchhchhchchchchchchchchchhchhhchchccchchchchhchchchhchch
that level of noise means, oh shit, someone with a mobile is close. very close. i can’t believe i’ve been asleep with hunters on my tail. and her. the fast one. she was close last night.
chchchchchchchhchchchcchhhhhchchchhchcchchchhhchchchhchchchcchchhcchcchchchhchchchhcchchchc
THINK! THINK!
chchchchchchchhchchchcchhhhhchchchhchcchchchhhchchchhchchchcchchhcchcchchchhchchchhcchchchc
it’s a mobile phone, for sure it’s a mobile phone. the noise is in my head, not in my ears, it’s to the upper right side, inside, constant, like an electrical interference, pure hiss, mobile hiss, loud, three-or-four-meters-away loud.
chchchchchchchhchchchcchhhhhchchchhchcchchchhhchchhchchchchchhchchchchhchhhchchchchccchchc
ok, right, lots of people have mobiles. if it’s a hunter, that hunter, and she could see me, i’d be dead by now.
i’m not dead.
she can’t see me.
chchchchchchchhchchchcchhhhhchchchhchcchchchhhchchhchchchchchhchchchchhchhhchchchchccchchc
the noise isn’t getting louder. she’s not moving closer. but she’s not moving away either.
am i hidden by something?
i’m lying on my side, face pressed into the ground. totally still. can’t see anything but earth. got to move a little.
but not yet. think first.
stay calm and work it out.
chchchchhchchchchhchchchhchchchchcchchchchchhchchchchhchhchchchchccchchchchccchhhhchcchcchc
there’s no breeze, no sun, just a faint light. it’s early. the sun must be behind the mountain still. the ground is cool but dry, no dew. there’s the smell of earth and pine and . . . there’s another smell.
what is that smell?
and there’s a taste.
a bad taste.
it tastes like . . . oh no—
don’t think about it
don’t think about it
don’t think about it
don’t think about it
think about something else
Think about where you are.
chchchchchhchchchhhhchchchchhchchchchchchchchchhchchchhchchchchhchchchhchchchhchcchchchchh
You’re lying on the ground, in the early morning, and the air is cool. You’re cold. You’re cold because . . . you’re naked. You’re naked and the top half of you is wet. Your chest, your arms . . . your face are wet.
And you move the fingers of your left hand, the tiniest of movements, and they’re sticky. Sticking together. Like they’re coated with drying, sugary juice. But it’s not juice—don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t think about it
DON’T THINK ABOUT IT!
THINK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE!
chchchchchchchhchhhchchchccchchchhchchcchchccc
THINK ABOUT STAYING ALIVE!
You’ve got to move. The Hunters are on your tail. That fast one was close. She was very close last night. What happened last night?
what happened?
NO! FORGET THAT.
chchchchhchchhchchchcchchhchhchchchchhhchchch
THINK ABOUT STAYING ALIVE.
WORK OUT WHAT TO DO.
You can look, move your head a fraction to see more. The ground by your face is covered with pine needles. Brown pine needles. But the brown isn’t from the pine. It’s the color of dried blood. Your left arm is extended. It’s streaked in it. Crusted with dried brown. But your hand isn’t streaked in it, it’s thick with it.
Red.
chchchchchchchhchchchcchhhhhchchchhchcchchchh
You can find a stream and wash. Wash it all off.
hchchhchchchchchhchchchchhchhhchchchchccchchc
You need to go. For your own safety you have to get out of here. You need to get moving. Get away.
chchchchchchchhchhhchchccchchchchhchchchhhchh
The mobile phone is close, not changing. It won’t be coming closer.
But you have to look. You have to check.
Turn your head to the other side.
You can do it.
It looks a bit like a log. Please be a log please be a log please be a log please
It’s not a log . . . It’s black and red. Black boots. Black trousers. One bent leg, one straight. Black jacket. Her face is turned away.
She has short light-brown hair.
It’s sopping with blood.
She’s lying as still as a log.
Still wet.
Still oozing.
Not fast anymore.
The mobile phone is hers.
chchchchchchchhchchchcchhhhhchchchhchcchchchhhchchchhchchchcchchhcchcchchchhchchchh
cchchchchchchhchchchchchhchchchchhchhhchchchchccchchc
And as you raise your head you see the wound that is her throat, and it is jagged and bloody and deep and
red
Sally Green, Half Lies
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends