‘Fucking bitch,’ Will bellowed at Alex. ‘Give that to me.’ He reached across her for the phone.
She punched at him. ‘Stop it. I’ll go off the road.’
‘We’re going off the road anyway. Give that to me.’
Punching him again, crying out, Alex veered to the left, hit a broken branch loaded with snow. The load cascaded in front of her and she drove blind, the wipers pressing a film of instantly frozen snow against the windscreen.
Will slugged her across the jaw, snapped her head around and grabbed at the phone again.
He slammed a hand over hers on the wheel and tried to ram a foot down on her boot to press the brake. His jacket slid up and a piece of steel handle gleamed in his back pocket. A knife.
She was dead. She knew she was dead.
With her left hand, she managed to close her fingers around her coffee mug. The drink wasn’t scalding but it was hot enough when it splattered into his eyes.
Will screamed and went for his knife. The blade, curved, evilly pointed and double-edged, ridged on one side, shot out.
A bloody gash opened across Alex’s knuckles.
She didn’t pause.
Her seatbelt responded to a single jab with a thumb and she was out of the Land Rover in one motion, snatching the phone on the way.
She had no time. No time to save herself. Fighting, batting at laden branches, sliding down a bank, tripping over hidden tangles of undergrowth, Alex threw herself away from the vehicle.
Losing him was the only escape she could think of. If she ran along the road she would be clearly in his sight. They hadn’t passed another car on this rutted way that was barely more than a lane. On the open she’d be an easy target.
With every stumbling step, every painful, wracking breath she took, a space on her back, between her shoulder blades, prickled and burned. The hunting knife, switch blade, whatever the horrible thing was, could hit there and sink in, go through her entire body like a hot wire through butter.
A spatter of scarlet drops sprayed the snow.
Her hand. He would see the blood and follow, like a trail of murderous breadcrumbs.
With a couple of tugs, the scarf around her neck came loose and she wrapped it around her fist, held the injured hand up while she stumbled on. One foot after another sank into the soft drifts.
It was like climbing through crusted meringue. Slow, slow, slow, and her thighs already ached from the rush of adrenaline and the cold she met with each move.
The incline threw her forward, struggling to keep her balance, wading. More trees awaited her at the bottom of the steep bank and she pushed through the first cross-hatched twigs and limbs, flinching at the barrage of wet sticks that struck her face.
Her heart beat harder but easier. She might have lost him. Not a sound came from behind her. The coffee could have done more harm than she hoped. Closer and closer together, the trees rose from uneven ground she couldn’t see. Rocks caught at her feet and thorns tore through her jeans to scratch her legs.
She heard sounds now, but they came from her breath and her rasping throat.
If she was calm, she could move silently through all this.
Alex swung around, searched behind her. His feet wouldn’t make more noise in the snow than hers did and the snapping, cracking cacophony around her head was no different from what was happening to him.
He was back there, Will, getting closer because he was stronger.
He would hear if she vomited. Alex forced herself to stand still in a small copse of skinny ash trunks and sucked air deeply through her mouth until the sickness passed enough for her to think. And she listened.
Nothing.
Tears sprang, stinging her eyes. Please let her have lost him. She had no idea where she was. She could walk into anything as long as she moved blind like this.
But she had to go on.
A shattering crack sounded. Not close, but back there. It could just be the weight of snow breaking a branch,
The next barrage of breaking limbs took only seconds to reach her. She had the lead on him but she hadn’t lost Will.
Here and there, where the woods had shielded the ground, she saw dark patches and ran from one to another, dashed on until she burst, abruptly, into an open space – on the edge of another snow-camouflaged ravine.
Alex changed direction and ran left, along the rim of the gully. She ran until more trees scattered the slope, and launched forward, using branches to hold on to and control her downhill charge.
She fell, cannoned head-first and rolled, arms flailing.
Winded, she found her feet and staggered on, hugging her aching middle.
The next fall landed her in a throbbing heap inside a hollowed ditch overhung with the edge of a bank where runoff had caused the earth to break away.
Alex pressed a hand over her mouth. Black flecks burst before her eyes. Passing out wasn’t an option. Driving in her heels, she pushed backward into the hollow until she was completely under a ledge.
Not a ledge but earth and debris caved into the mouth of an old culvert with an icy coat over the opening where dripping water had frozen. Dimly, Alex saw a shiver of light through the blue-white veil and spread a hand on a knobby, hard surface.
The light would come from the other end of the culvert.
If she could get inside – it was as big in diameter as she was tall – there was a chance Will would never find her. If he did, there were two entrances, which also meant two exits, and she was more agile than he was.
Alex listened intently. Her hand throbbed, deep and hard, but it was too cold for the blood to drip from the scarf.
Ice spiked her eyelashes and coated much of her face. Every move felt like a decision but when she looked at that shimmer on the ice curtain, a rush of hope gave her strength.
She chose what looked more like a piece of broken concrete than a rock and smacked it against the ice.
The noise was dulled but still she drew her neck down into the collar of her coat and waited.
Should she accept Will, his knife, and no hope out here? Or risk the noise to get into a culvert where she might have a chance?
Alex battered at the ice and swallowed a sob when it cracked and a hole opened the size of a fist. The beating of her heart in her throat shortened her breath, but she hacked faster and the hole grew bigger.
A jagged slice of ice broke away. The smaller, the less obvious the opening she made, the better. She didn’t hesitate to shove a booted foot through the space and squeeze inside. The freeze deadened an odor of rot but she still gagged, held her nose and breathed through her mouth. And she prayed the smell of death came from nothing more horrifying than rodents.