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Caitlin was deep in thought as they drove to the Highlands, contemplating everything Scott had said, plus the fact the vehicle held weapons. They drove past Stirling with the castle sitting on its rocky base to their right. At Perth, they took the road to Crieff, then Crianlarich through the Trossachs National Park. The countryside of vivid green flashed past, lush and verdant. Higher hills were turning purple with the heather coming into flower. Grey, pebbled burns and rivers flowed fast with brown brackish water through spectacular valleys with cloud-capped mountains on either side.
At Bridge of Orchy, Scott ordered her to stay in the car. He opened the door and got out, glancing at her as he locked it again. Her gaze followed him as he walked to the Inn and entered the reception area. After a moment he reappeared with a man following him. Scott pointed to the large aerial attached to the vehicle and spoke to the man. Caitlin wound the window down slightly. Both Scott and the hotelier spoke the Gaelic; Scott was fluent. Caitlin didn’t like to stare, so she watched him while he wasn’t looking, as he spoke to the hotelier.
Scott was older than he first appeared, maybe in his mid-thirties. He had the tell-tale smile lines at the sides of his eyes. He appeared fit and healthy looking, well-muscled with broad shoulders and strong hands. And handsome. Not ‘pretty-boy’ manicured-handsome, but rough ‘lived-life’ manly-handsome. He was articulate and bilingual. He had an animated conversation with the hotelier and smiled often, such a contrast to the gruff, serious man who had dragged her from her home.
Once back in the car, Scott handed her a bottle of water and a bag of crisps. He drove in silent concentration, drinking his own bottled water. Caitlin watched the scenery flitting past, her vision in sensory overload. They drove through Rannoch Moor with lochs nestled beside the road and purple heather-covered moors stretching for miles either side. She wound the window down further; the air held the faint scent of heather in bloom, the freshness of clean mountain water and the warmth of a summer’s day. The warmth entered her being and momentarily settled some of the chill harbouring there. Green mountains rose behind the moor, but there was little traffic.
“Where are all the tourists?” These roads were usually thick with them.
“Aye, the tours have cancelled due to the troubles, and we’re a step ahead of those who eventually flee north.” Again, he spoke like it was fact—past-history.
Then the scenery changed. It was as if they had turned a corner and the world at once became larger. The mountains were steeper and higher with darker summits, and so close to the road. Caitlin craned her neck as she looked through the passenger side window. A white-grey cloud-filled sky obscured the craggy peaks of the mountains. Waterfalls cascaded over grey rock, pounding their way to earth; burns tore along the glen between the twin rows of imposing mountain peaks. A still loch, mirroring the cloud filled sky, sat to Caitlin’s left. She let out her breath.
“Amazing, isn’t it? We are now in Glencoe.” His voice held respect.
Caitlin nodded but stayed silent. Scott turned off the main road to a track that led them closer into the mountain range to the north. They passed through the forest at the base of these mountains and turned into the hillside to a much narrower track.
“Now we walk.” Scott stopped the vehicle.
“What about all of this?” Caitlin pointed her thumb over her shoulder to the equipment in the back of the vehicle.
“That we carry.”
Scott placed a weighty backpack on Caitlin’s shoulders. He gave her two duffle bags to carry, one in each hand. They dragged her shoulders downward. What? He expected her to carry this heavy stuff? The track began by entering a small wood of Scots pine trees, with pale-orangey-brown trunks, almost skin coloured, and green pine needles iconic of the forests in Scotland. She looked at them with fresh eyes. Usually pretty, but now she memorised them as the eventual way to the road. She followed Scott through the copse, their feet crunched the pine needles, which carpeted the ground. Relief swelled within her and wearing good running shoes added to her resolve. The wind blew slightly, hissing through the pine branches, and wafting the distinctive scent into her face.
While passing a bend on the path, Caitlin dumped the gear and made a run for it. Her heart pounded. It wasn’t only from exertion, but her adrenalin-fuelled desire to escape this possible mad-man. She glanced back before turning the bend. Scott was shaking off an over-stuffed rucksack. She ran hard. So hard her thigh muscles burned, and her knees trembled from the unaccustomed exertion. She ran for five solid minutes. She then turned and continued a brisk sideways walk, searching behind her. He’s fit and athletic. He’d be coming around the corner any moment, surely? No, not yet. Caitlin continued her flight. She pushed herself hard, endeavouring to put more space between herself and him. Her breath seared her throat. Her T-shirt stuck to her sweating back.
Further along the grassy track, Caitlin’s heart pounded as she gasped for air. The damp sweat running down her back travelled parallel to the chill developing in her spine. Was she rid of him? She flicked her head around. Still no Scott.
A movement flashed in her peripheral vision. Caitlin turned with a gasp as Scott lunged from the gorse at the side of the track. He tackled her to the ground. They landed on a patch of grass, surprisingly soft against her back. He was on top of her.
Straddling her. Pinning her down. He grabbed both of her wrists in one hand and held them above her head on the ground amongst her hair. Her hair tugged at the roots. Burning. She fought against his strength. It was useless. His weight bore down on her, his strong thighs held her immobile. He pointed the index finger of his free hand in her face.
“Caitlin! It can be like this if you want it to! Dinnae be foolish girl. Och, you have a lot to learn! Do not forget I ken this place like the back of ma hand.” His face reddened, and fear drained her strength. She pushed against him with her legs, puffing from the exertion. Scott was too familiar with her and he’d overpowered her—again.
“I chose it because, as you are now, ye would not survive in it without me. So, trust me Caitlin Murray, it’s in everybody’s interests, and especially your own. Aye?” He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him, his voice rising “Are ye understanding me, lass?” Caitlin widened her eyes and stared back, determined to show her defiance and none of her fear. His blue eyes stood out in his stern face.
She gave a slight nod. Scott let her go and lifted himself off her. She wanted to scream at him but bit her tongue. She must now keep to her plan of making him think she would comply. That way, she’d be able to take him by surprise with her next attempt at running away. She pushed herself off the ground, staggering. Warily she followed him to the place on the track where she had begun her flight.
This guy was clever. She picked up the backpack and duffle bags as Scott reloaded himself with equipment, and the trek continued. Her mind spun, options for escape fast eluding her. They approached a small abandoned crofter’s cottage, a grey-stone with peeling white paint and a slate roof, a neglected vegetable garden and an attempt at an orchard. Inside, was renovated to a liveable interior; cool inside despite the summer’s day. They took off their overstuffed backpacks and unloaded the equipment and supplies.
“Now, I have one more load to bring from the vehicle and then I must hide the 4WD,” Scott told her. “Due to your escapades on our journey here, I am much later than I originally thought. But I must do it. It may be dark before I return. Glencoe is a scary, cold place at night on your own. Remember, there was once a massacre here. They say ghosts roam. Och! I’m nae bothered, for you see, I’m a Campbell.” Caitlin looked blandly at him. She wouldn’t respond to his humour. “Caitlin? I’m serious. Please stay here and don’t try to leave. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Okay?” His Scottish burr seemed accentuated in his earnestness.
“Yes,” she had no choice. She would lose herself in this valley of steep sided mountains and night almost here. “Are you really a Campbell?”
“Aye lass. But I dinnae treat people the way my ancestors did.”
Caitlin peered out the front window and watched him walk away through the small grassed area at the front of the cottage. He had locked her in. Her mind went to the story of the Campbells massacring the MacDonalds of Glencoe, breaching the sacred trust of guest and host, the Campbells were the guests turning on their hosts and murdering most, even pursuing them through the winter snow.
The cottage comprised of one very large room with three doors to rooms at the kitchen end. An Aga was in this kitchen section. The housekeeper of her uncle’s estate said solid fuel stoves were the best thing to cook on, but this one was stone cold. In the wall at the other end of this main room was an open fireplace, also chilly and empty.
Caitlin ran her hand along the length of the wooden kitchen table, the timber’s grain somehow comforting. She sat on the green fabric covered sofa at the living room end of the cottage. It had two armchairs to match. It was old. Well, everything was old. And not antique old, just old. Caitlin coughed as she patted the cushions, raising a slight cloud of dust. She left the two bedrooms at the kitchen end of the cottage unexplored as boxes of supplies caught her attention. Wandering over she briefly rummaged through the contents of a box on the floor near the open fireplace. A musty scent emanated from the old books inside.
The last of the daylight waned as Caitlin stood by the front window. Mist covered mountains were on every side, giants peering down at her through a green and white monochrome.
She jumped as the gate creaked. Scott closed the gate to the small front garden, the wind lifted his hair. His expression was one of contentment as if he had enjoyed his invigorating afternoon in the great outdoors of Scotland. Maybe he was okay if not a little weird regarding the whole end-of-the-world thing. But not a kidnapper holding someone to ransom, or a rapist, or a murderer, despite his roughness with her earlier. He had just seemed determined, even though it was scary. He said he was from the future though.
“That’s right! How did he travel through time if he’s from the future?” Caitlin vocalised her thoughts. Huh, she sounded as crazy as him.
“A Time Machine. The prototype actually.”
Caitlin turned with a start. He was standing close, looking down at her, his usually hard features softened.
“So, you brought all this stuff with you? In the time machine?” She took a small step backward.
“No.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I brought money and bought everything once I got here.”
“Even the 4WD? How much money did you bring?”
“A lot. I still have plenty. You see it lost its value, paper money that is. There was plenty of it around, but it was nae worth the paper it was written on, so tae speak.” He smiled at his own witticism. “People still hoarded it in case the value ever returned. So, there was plenty to share.”
“People shared it with you?”
“Aye, the people we live with. There were pockets of people who survived the chaos and eventually we gathered together into small communities of survivors dotted throughout the world. We communicate with other Communities worldwide by Citizen Band Radio.” Caitlin sensed her eyes and mouth were open wide. She shut her mouth. “Aye,” he said, “I told you worldwide chaos would ensue from the recent stock market crash. If ye still dinnae believe me, just keep listening to the news on the radio. I’ve got one here and I’ll get it set up after dinner.”
“Okay let’s see if all your predictions come true. One question though. Where do I sleep?” Wherever it was, she was determined she would bar the door.
Scott gave another chuckle.
“You’ll be relieved to know there are two bedrooms in this crofter’s cottage. Most untraditional, I might add.” He spoke over his shoulder as he locked the front and back doors.