Once he was going—once he’d got far enough away that he couldn’t see the Drifter through the scrub every time he looked back—it got a bit easier.
A couple of crows hopped and cawed near him, seemed to follow him on his way, as if they were keeping him company, or chaperoning him, or maybe they were just checking him out. They’re not like vultures, are they? Spencer wondered briefly. They don’t eat ... flesh. Do they?
Spencer knew that if he didn’t figure out roughly where he was on the mountain he could waste a lot of time ploughing directionlessly through the bush. As much as he wanted to feel the downwards tilt of the earth towards that road under his feet, he knew if he could find a high point now, before he started heading down, it might show him the quickest, easiest way to the road. He needed a tree, or a tall rock.
Around him, the scrub was thin and low. Spencer looked at his watch, wiping the rain off the face with his thumb. It was 6.10. He wanted to be down at the bottom of the Bluff by about 8.30 or 9. It might take him another hour or two even then to reach help, and then a while still for the rescue people to get up the mountain to Dad and get him out. Spencer realised he had to get down as quickly as he could—getting down too late might mean another night on the mountain for Dad. Or worse.
The crows were loud and close. The rocks were slippery. Spencer kept his head down, paying attention to where he placed his feet, like he did during the cross-country; a twisted ankle would be a total disaster right now.
He let out a weak laugh. If only this were the school cross-country, with Leon bringing up the rear and Mr Petrich drilling them from the sidelines. What would he say about this track? Stay focused, Spencer! Pick it up! Stay with the leaders.
Oh man, if only.
Straight ahead of him was a steep rock face. There was no way he could get to the top of it without a rope. He only had his boots on—they weren’t exactly made for extreme sports. Spencer tracked around the base of the rock wall. He knew this was the high point he was looking for; he just needed to get up to the top somehow. At one side, tufts of bush sprouted from cracks in the granite. He grabbed one and leaned his weight from it. It stuck. Tough stuff. It hurt his hands but that was the least of his problems. Spencer took turns with his hands and feet using the tufts as hand- and foot-holds, and made his way up to the top.
As he crawled over the rim, the brief good feeling of conquering the rock face slid darkly away. The total greyness of the sky enveloped him.
Whooof. The wind slammed into his body. He planted his feet apart and leant into it.
Terrible thoughts slid into his mind but he forced them away before they could take hold. He didn’t need them. He needed to have total commitment now.
He wasn’t at the top of the Bluff, and the rain and shifting cloud made it hard to see far, but here he had a view nonetheless. There was a sort of cloud ring not far above him, around the peak, he thought it must be, which told him that they had crashed about three-quarters of the way up the mountain. Spencer knew from when they were here on their family camping trip that it was about a two-hour walk down from the top—along the hiking trail. He knew it could take at least double that time with out a trail, with bush and rocks and other stuff to find his way around. Who knows what’s gunna be down this side, he thought. It could be previously unexplored for all I know! Even when he did it with Mum and Dad and Pips on the camping trip, it took more than two hours, because Pippa had that meltdown on the way down.
But none of this seemed to matter right now: Spencer was momentarily buoyed by the realisation that it might be only a few hours—three or four or five, maybe—till he got help.
He looked around again, trying hard to be calm, trying to concentrate. His eyes searched the scrub for a trail to follow—any trail; a bunny trail would do at this stage.
There was nothing. Nothing. He had to get going. He was wasting time!
He waited a moment longer for the cloud to slide away.
C’mon, c’mon, he murmured.
The crows swooped away suddenly. Spencer scanned the sky. Was he imagining it, that sound—again? In the distance ... could he hear a chopper?