The scree was slippery in the wet, sliding downward with each step and sapping Jake’s energy. Rain fell from Florence’s hair in rivulets as she scrambled over boulders. The frozen rock numbed their fingers. When they were half-way to the top Jake paused, trying to plot a course up a mountain that grew only steeper.
“How did you know they would be waiting for us?” he panted.
“I had a bad feeling about it.” Florence was gasping for breath too. “That’s why I got distracted in the chapel. I … I can’t explain it better than that.”
Beneath them flashing lights were winding into town. There was a body outside the compound and a crowd was gathering.
“That’s twice,” he said. “Everywhere we go people start bloody well killing each other. Who the hell are they?”
“Not now,” said Florence. “Let’s get over this peak and find somewhere to shelter – our body heat will stand out like a beacon here.”
The path was impeded by rock-fall and they had to squeeze through gaps between the stone. At one point a boulder the size of a cottage blocked their way; it took ten minutes to retrace their steps. It was 3 a.m. when they reached the summit, to be blasted by a wind carried from the highlands, where ice and snow still lay. Florence collapsed beneath a mushroom-shaped rock protruding from the ridge. Jake slumped beside her, numbed by fatigue. She pressed into him, craving the body heat. Jake felt his eyelids droop …
*
He launched himself off the ridge, using the buoyancy of the dream-flier to thrust up through the atmosphere, seeking out the boundary between earth and the void. Curiously, pine branches encircled the world. Jake pushed through, emerging from the Narnian wardrobe. Only it wasn’t branches. It was his duvet. He laughed uproariously at the discovery. He had been scrabbling around in bed at his flat in Battersea, worrying his sheets downward.
Wait.
Something wasn’t right.
He wasn’t in Battersea, he hadn’t been in England for ages. In that case where was he? Jake confronted the problem. London, Istanbul – where did they go next? Oh of course, Ethiopia. Addis Ababa – Axum – the Chapel of the Ark …
Oh Jesus, I’m on the mountain.
Jake opened his eyes to find rain driving into him horizontally. He didn’t know how long he’d been out – it could have been seconds or an hour. Florence’s head lolled on her neck and she whimpered as he shook her awake.
“Wha … what? What’s going on?” She focused on him with difficulty. “Where are we?”
“Come on, we can’t stay here.” Jake’s lips struggled to form the words. “We’ve got to keep moving.”
As he hauled Florence up he thanked whatever recess of his subconscious had awoken him. They had come within an inch of death from exposure.