The dogs – Alsatians – half slid, half galloped down the slope, barking excitedly, frantically. Ryker tried to get to his feet but slipped and decided he was better off closer to the ground. As carefully as he could, he slid his body to the edge. Peered down below. A big drop. Easily as big as the slope they’d just slid down, but sheer, jagged rock. The empty, twisting road to Blodstein was right there at the bottom. If they’d fallen over the edge, they almost certainly wouldn’t have survived.
‘Over there,’ Henrik said, pointing to the north side. ‘We can climb.’
Ryker thought he knew which part Henrik was referring to. Twenty steps in front of them, the rock face split in two creating a ridge about halfway down its face. Under any other circumstances, Ryker would have said Henrik was crazy to even suggest they attempt it.
‘Come on!’ Henrik said. He moved onto his feet but looked shaky. He remained hunched, knees bent, so his hands were inches from the snow. He looked more like a monkey than a human as he jostled forward. Ryker glanced at the dogs. They were nearly halfway down already.
What choice did they have?
He shuffled along behind Henrik, teetering on the edge of the cliff, one slip away from a fall that was surely fatal.
Henrik paused. Ryker pulled up by his side. They were directly above the ridge which protruded all of two yards from the main rock face. But with it were numerous other smaller indentations and shards sticking out. Perfect for a rock climbing enthusiast. Not so perfect in the ice cold, with one injured hand, no gear, and dogs chasing.
Ryker moved first. He turned to face up the slope then eased his body down. Down. One step and one painful handhold at a time. He’d barely begun when his foot slipped. He tried his best to regain traction but his frozen digits simply had too little strength.
Ryker fell.
‘No!’ Henrik screamed.
He’d barely finished the one-word call when Ryker’s back smacked down onto rock. The ridge. It was nothing more than pure luck that his body didn’t topple over the edge.
He was dazed. In agony. For seconds he wasn’t sure he could move at all. Henrik rushed down after him. Ryker wanted to shout out to tell him to go slow, to be careful, but he couldn’t even find the strength to do that.
He regained some of his focus, some of his strength, when a plume of snow cascaded over the edge above Henrik and a barking dog came into view. The next moment another flurry, before the second dog sprang into view too. Its barks soon turned to a whimper when it reached the edge and its legs flailed as it tried desperately not to topple over.
Ryker willed it to safety. As much as he didn’t want those beasts clamping their jaws around him, they weren’t the enemy.
The dog managed to stay on top. Just about. A moment later the first of the men’s heads bobbed into view. He called out to his friends.
Henrik landed on the ridge next to Ryker with a thud. Ryker had barely noticed him make his descent.
‘You okay?’ he said, pulling on Ryker’s arm as if to encourage him up.
Ryker tried to lift his torso. It was agony, but he did it. He moved to his knees, then put his weight onto his feet. His brain was swimming.
‘Follow me,’ Henrik said. And he was off again.
Ryker glanced up once more. Two of the men were there now. The dogs weren’t barking but were breathing heavily, their long pink tongues dangling. No one looked like they were about to follow down the cliff.
Which only meant one thing. They would try to track back and intercept on the road instead. Ryker and Henrik were far from in the clear.
Ryker got moving. The last part of the descent was far easier, far less severe. When they were down below the tops of the last of the trees that sprinkled the cliff face, Henrik let go and jumped the rest of the way. He landed out of sight below Ryker with a gentle thud.
‘Hurry!’ Henrik said from beneath him.
Ryker decided against such a move. His knees wouldn’t thank him for it, and he’d already taken enough knocks today, not to mention the lifetime of knocks before that.
He finally jumped down when he was a couple of yards from the verge at the side of the road. Even that sent a nasty shock through his bones.
‘I’m getting too old for this,’ he said to Henrik when he’d righted himself.
Henrik looked like he didn’t know what Ryker meant by that.
Ryker glanced back above. No sign of anyone, or anything, at the top now.
‘We don’t have long,’ Ryker said.
They’d certainly never make it back to his car before they crossed paths with the others.
But what would they do when they saw Ryker and Henrik on the road? Mow them down? For whatever reason, Ryker didn’t believe the men wanted Henrik dead, otherwise he already would have been. But what about him? Was he expendable? Was his best chance out of this now to stand his ground and fight them off? He certainly didn’t want to beg or bargain for his survival.
‘Let’s go,’ Ryker said, eventually finding the strength to move his increasingly heaving body into a jog.
Henrik moved alongside him, both of them at the side of the road where the pristine-looking tarmac gave way to a slushy, muddy verge before the rock face. The other side of the road was the drop to the water, nothing between the tarmac and blue stuff other than an aging metal barrier, and a thin row of trees.
‘Move to the other side,’ Ryker said, glancing behind him to check the road was clear before darting across. He jumped the barrier, took a couple of slippery steps on the snowy ground around the trees to correct himself. Much slower to move here than on the cleared road, but at least they had some cover.
They continued to move as fast as they could – conditions permitting – with not a word spoken between them. They rounded a bend in the road – a bend in the natural layout of the land – and in the distance the cluster of buildings making up Blodstein’s industrial waterfront came into view. Potential safety. Potential warmth. It looked so close, but they were at least two miles away still. Plus the town would be full of the townsfolk. Each one a potential enemy.
‘Engine,’ Ryker said.
Henrik had heard it too, judging by the look on his face, and the two of them stopped their running and crouched down and pulled up against the side of the verge to try and hide themselves from the road just above them.
It was definitely the chasing pack. Even without seeing, Ryker could tell by the low rumble that he’d heard a car or pickup, rather than a lorry or anything else, and they were traveling slowly. Far too slowly for anyone simply passing by. They were looking for the spot Ryker and Henrik had scaled.
The car moved past. The engine noise slowly faded. But it didn’t disappear.
‘They’re going to find us,’ Ryker said to Henrik, who looked more scared than ever. ‘We can’t outrun them. And if we stay here, they’ll see us.’
So what exactly was the answer?
In unison, in equal desperation, both of them looked away from one another and to the gray, rippling water beneath. Far from the most inviting prospect, but was the water their only choice?
‘There’s a boat,’ Henrik said, pointing just north of the spot they were hiding by. Sure enough, ten yards into the water, tethered to a small and decrepit wooden jetty at the water’s edge, was an equally decrepit-looking rowing boat. Were there even oars on it?
Voices. The dogs barking once more. Out of sight, but close by.
Without saying a word, Henrik peeled away. Ryker hesitated, but only for a second. The boy was rash, no doubt about it, but so far his instincts hadn’t been bad. And Ryker wasn’t going to leave him now.
Henrik turned just as he reached the edge and dropped out of sight. One, two, three seconds.
Splash.
Ryker peered over the edge. Henrik was flailing.
‘Shit.’ Ryker jumped after him. Smacked into the ice-cold water. Tried his hardest to stay relaxed even as his heart thudded erratically and his brain fuzzed over.
He took a couple of steady breaths to gain focus. Henrik, on the other hand, was panicking.
‘Breathe normally,’ Ryker said, gently treading water. He reached out and pushed Henrik’s backside up toward the water’s surface. ‘Just relax. Lie back. Look up at the sky. Breathe.’
Ryker’s words were delivered calmly, soothingly, as though a meditation. He’d seen first-hand the effects of jumping into icy water – how that initial moment of shock and panic, heart beating rapidly and chaotically, could prove fatal.
His calming worked. Henrik’s frantic movements dulled. His breathing slowed.
Just in time because the voices were getting louder.
Ryker let go and Henrik returned upright, slowly bobbing up and down as they both trod water. With one arm, Ryker pulled Henrik close, pulled them both right up to the edge so they were as hidden from sight as they could be. Certainly out of view from the road. Not so out of sight if anyone was to walk right up to the water.
If they did that, Ryker had no clue what his next move would be. Drag them in with him?
‘Shhh,’ Ryker said to Henrik, holding a finger to his lips.
The water gently lapped against them, the ripples from their initial entry subsumed by the natural movement of the water. Ryker let his body slip down a little further so the top of the water was above his chin. He held Henrik’s eye. Neither looked away.
Voices louder still. Dogs yapping and yelping. Ryker couldn’t tell what the men were saying but the look on Henrik’s face showed he could.
Agonizing moments passed by. How long had they been in the water? Seconds? Minutes? It felt like an age. Ryker’s body shuddered from the cold. Henrik’s face was white. Both of them were in trouble if they didn’t get out soon. Probably mere minutes before severe hypothermia became a realistic risk.
Then, unexpectedly, Henrik’s face relaxed. He very nearly smiled, the edges of his mouth twitched upward before his face neutralized and he simply nodded.
Moments later, the voices faded.
‘They’re gone,’ Henrik said.