I’m further than I’ve ever been without Cal’s company since I first came here. I know he’s not managed to follow me this way in the truck. The way is narrow, cutting directly through the forest. Some firs arch so densely here they block the night sky. But I won’t allow myself to relax. He can’t follow me in the truck but he knows I’ve escaped and my refusal to look back means I have no idea when or if I lost him. He’s not going to stop trying to catch me. He’s out there, tracking me like an animal. All those years I spent watching him go off to hunt and now I’m the prey. But the cabin itself is no longer visible beyond the trees and that itself gives me comfort.
I’m walking quickly now instead of running, but even so it doesn’t take long before my muscles start to ache and perspiration wets my forehead even in the cold of the night. There’s a stitch in my side too. I try not to panic that it could be radiating from my womb and press on. The pain blots everything from my mind. Keeps me focused on the task at hand. I need to head north, which makes it easy to follow the stars, and I’ve drawn out a rough route as best I can on the back of Gemma’s letter. It’s one of the items tucked into my rucksack. Directly opposite the loch Cal took me to those few times there is a marked hiking trail and that’s where I am heading. It’s a good mile trek to the loch, and I’ve no idea what awaits me beyond that point, but a marked trail means civilisation at some point, eventually. I glance up at the sky, at the stars. It will start getting light around eight o’clock, so I guess in around five hours’ time. I need to get a move on if I’m to continue to be able to use the stars to guide me and have the cover of darkness on my side.
As I travel deeper into the woods, the light from the moon is lessened, shielded by the canopy above me. I rummage about in my rucksack for the torch. It flickers a few times as I turn it on. I worry briefly that the light might act like a signal to anyone looking. But it’s too dark for me to care. I need some kind of visual or I’ll end up breaking my leg on one of the many protruding branches. The trees seem to be leaning in, their branches reaching down, their leafless winter twigs acting as fingers trying to grab me, to pull me back.
Suddenly my quick walk diminishes to a silent tiptoe. My eyes dart around. I think someone is watching me. It’s a sense in the air, a disturbance in the bushes. I freeze like a deer with a gun aimed at it. My ears strain to catch any hint of movement. Nothing unusual. I spin on my heel and scan the forest behind me, but all I can see is a tangle of trees like shadowed arms intertwining, reaching for me. It would be so easy for someone to spy on me from the depths. I try not to think about the stories Cal told me, about the dangerous people I could meet if I were ever to venture away from the safety of the cabin. I know he said it to keep me compliant, but his words and warnings ring in my ears nonetheless. I have to remind myself that no matter who or what I might possibly run into out here, it would be hard-pressed to be any worse than what awaits me back home.
Not home. The cabin is not my home.
Heart racing furiously, I wait for a few moments longer, but I know I can’t let paranoia stop me from pushing on. Keeping my attention trained on my surroundings, I hurry north, checking my position by the stars. I should be fairly close now. But before I can go too far the toe of my boot catches on something. I stumble, barely catching myself before I hit the ground. I think of you the second I go down, how much you’re relying on me.
I press a hand to my belly as I push myself back up, whispering reassurances. We’re going to make it. It’s going to be OK. I shine my light to see what tripped me. A boot … connected to a jean-clad leg. I stifle a scream as the torch illuminates a body sprawled on the forest floor. The face is unrecognisable. Decomposed and half-eaten. But I recognise the shirt, stained with dark blood. It’s the hiker. Cal said he’d driven him to the main road. Shown him how to get out of the remote Highlands.
A sob erupts from my throat. This is all my fault. This man is dead because he saw me. Because he knew I existed. Cal couldn’t risk letting him go, couldn’t take the chance that he’d recognised me from the newspapers, alert someone to my being held captive. If I hadn’t let him in, Cal would never have known about him. If I’d sent him away the second I saw him he’d still be alive right now.
No. This is not my fault. It’s Cal’s. He’s a monster.
With a renewed sense of hatred I scramble up and continue to run. I don’t stop even as my lungs burn and my legs feel like they might give out. The image of the dead hiker is seared into my mind but I use it as fuel, forcing me forward. I have to keep going, have to get free of this nightmare.
The stitch in my side has spread, gripping my abdomen like a vice, pulsing. We’re so close. Just a little further. The terrain grows steeper, my boots slipping on loose rocks and gnarled roots. I use the slender trunks of young birches to pull myself up the incline, their papery bark peeling beneath my grasp.
At last, I crest the ridge. The land slopes downwards again and loose earth moves under my feet as I slip and slide. Ahead I can make out a faint glow – the moonlight reflecting off the loch’s surface. I’m close. Breaking through a final line of trees, I stumble onto the shoreline. The wide expanse of water stretches out before me like liquid silver, dark and calm. Somewhere on the other side is the marked trail, my route to freedom.
I peer down at the lakeshore and run my fingers along the surface. The water is thick, syrupy. I shudder at the thought of falling in. That would as good as seal my fate. If Cal doesn’t get me the hypothermia will.
My eye travels along the edge of the loch, searching for the hiking trail. I try shining my torch but the beam isn’t strong enough. It doesn’t travel far. I squint, trying to remember where I’d seen it the last time. I think it was over to the left somewhere.
There!
It’s there, the sign, a slight darkening in the otherwise undisturbed landscape. Between me and it, a sheer cliff face. I’m on the wrong side. When I came here before we followed the dirt path. We approached the loch at the top of the hill, close to the trail. This time I’m at the bottom. My heart sinks. The cliff towers above me, an impenetrable wall of rock. There’s no way I can climb it, not in my condition. I could go back into the woods and circle to the other side, but doing so means risking running into Cal.
I glance back over my shoulder nervously, peering into the dark forest. It’s silent and still, no sign of pursuit yet. But I know it’s only a matter of time before he thinks to search the loch. My other option stares at me, daring me.
Taking a deep breath, I start making my way along the rocky shoreline, moving as quickly as I can manage. The footing is precarious, loose stones shifting under my boots. I have to watch each step to avoid twisting an ankle or worse. Weariness drags at my limbs as I navigate the terrain. I don’t know how much further I can push myself. The stitch in my side has become a throbbing ache, building in waves. I press a hand to my belly, praying you’re all right. We have to keep going. There’s no other choice.
I force my legs to move, one step after the other. My eyes periodically shift to the cliff face looming above me as I clamber. I’m watching for any break, any place where the steep slope levels out enough to attempt climbing up. But so far the rock wall is sheer, with no handholds in sight.
Before I’m even halfway to the trail my foot drops, missing one of the stones and plunging in the frigid water. The cold seeps through my boots. It’s paralysing. I bite down a scream and press myself against the rock wall, wishing I could go back and change my mind, venture back into the woods and take the long way around, but I’ve come so far there’s no point. I have as far to travel back as I do lying ahead of me.
I force myself to keep moving, shivering as the freezing water sloshes in my boot. My teeth chatter violently. I clench my jaw and wrap my arms around myself in a futile effort to retain some warmth. The cold is penetrating, numbing my foot and sending spikes of pain up my leg with each step.
Up ahead, the cliff face seems to taper slightly before rising sharply again. It’s not much of a slope, barely angled, but it may just be enough. Gripping the icy rock with numb fingers, I hoist myself up, scrabbling for any grip I can find. My boots slip dangerously on the inclined surface as I claw my way higher. Loose pebbles cascade down behind me, plinking into the dark loch below. Slowly, painfully slowly, I hoist myself up and finally emerge onto the verge, metres from the hiking trail. My movements are laboured, my mind dazed with tiredness. I roll onto the grass, blades stiff with frost, and lie on my back, chest heaving. Each breath burns my lungs. The stitch in my side feels like a fiery poker skewering my abdomen. I know I need to keep moving but my body is screaming for rest.
Just a few minutes, I tell myself. I’ll close my eyes only for a moment before carrying on. Exhaustion is overtaking the cold and the fear. But almost as soon as my eyes close, pain radiates through my body. Something is wrong – terribly wrong. This is more than just exhaustion or the strain of the climb. This pain is deeper, visceral. I try to slow my breathing, to calm myself enough to assess what’s happening.
That’s when I feel it – the first hard clench across my belly. A strangled cry escapes my throat as the force of it steals my breath. I curl inward, knees drawing up instinctively. My fingers dig into the frozen earth beneath me. Fear like I’ve never known lances through me. Out here, alone in the remote wilderness, I know neither of us may survive this.
Please, not now, I beg. I don’t know who I’m begging. You. My body. God. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I force myself to stand on shaking legs. I can’t rest here. It’s too open. Too easy for Cal to spot me from a distance. I need to find some kind of shelter, to take a few minutes to sit and ease my body, to eat and drink. I realise too that I’m desperate for the toilet. Dizziness washes over me as I stagger forward, my boots tripping from grass to path as I meet the trail, and I follow it.
On and on it seems to go, winding this way and that. There, not far away, is a stand of pine trees, their branches still green in the winter air. It’s as good a place as any. I stumble towards them, each step a battle against the growing agony. At last, I reach the shelter of the trees and collapse behind a fallen trunk, out of sight from the trail. You kick feebly, as if sensing my panic.
‘Shh,’ I soothe, as much for my own benefit as yours. I’m not sure what to do first. Sleep, eat, drink or pee. I choose the latter, balancing the torch on a flat rock, lowering my trousers and squatting, the cold air wrapping around me.
I see the blood moments before I feel it. The release. The gush of liquid.
My waters have broken.