Faith grabs the handle, then pauses, looking over her shoulder. ‘I guess we should start at the bird hide?’
‘I reckon we should check that trail first,’ Reubyn says, pointing towards the front end of the bus, in a direction George reckons might be north. ‘Then we circle back that way, check the other trails, and check the bird hide last.’
‘Why the hell would we check the hide last?’ Polly asks. ‘Surely that’s the most likely place he’ll be.’
‘Because, if we don’t find him, we can’t just drive off with all his stuff. We’ll have to leave it in the hide. We can’t just leave it out in the rain.’
‘Well, bugger me, he’s right.’ George slaps Reubyn hard on the back. ‘That’s probably the most intelligent thing you’ve ever said. As a prize for being so bloody clever, you can carry his bag. Come on, then, let’s get this over with.’
Faith opens the door, the sound of the storm rushing in to fill the bus, and they file out. As the last to exit, George closes the door behind him. It slams shut, assisted by a gust. As he descends the steps, he calls after the others, but they don’t hear. Shouldn’t they be locking the bus?Forget it, George thinks. In the scheme of things, it really doesn’t matter.
As he predicted, George is soaked through to the skin before they even reach the first trail. They got deluged as they crossedthe car park, and now, out in the woods, he finds the canopy is at breaking point. The trees are bearing all the water they can, saturated completely, so the rain’s full load is finding passage to the earth, only unevenly, in great sloshes and drips. George deliberately didn’t bring any boots or waterproofs on this trip, so no one could persuade him to go hiking. And yet, here he is, out in the middle of nowhere, in the foulest of weather. His hoodless jacket is proving hopeless.
Their progress is slow. The path is slick with mud, and, with every step, George needs to plant his feet carefully on the ground to avoid slipping into the muck. Ahead of him, the girls are shouting Elis’s name. Miles and Reubyn are too, somewhat half-heartedly. With the wind blustering around, their voices are small and have no echo.
At a fork in the trail, they stop. They call for Elis through tunnelled hands, channelling their shouts up the trail they have no intention of following further. Then they turn right, into an area of denser forest. This path is narrow and overgrown, invaded by branches and long leaves that arc and bend under their own weight. George uses his forearm to pull back the wet, reedy fronds of a tree fern that hangs across the trail, revealing a deeper tangle behind. All around is that damp, composty smell that’s only found in the most shadowy of places. The dark corners that are permanently out of reach of the sun.Primeval. A couple of days earlier that word gave him cause to laugh. Now, though, it seems simply to be the correct adjective, not only to describe this ancient and wild place, but also the feelings and instincts that are seeded into those who enter it.
The path twists, and them with it. Reubyn, just ahead of Miles, holds his phone sideways to take a video. He’s had it out for less than twenty seconds before he shakes off water and slips it back into his pocket.
After a few more minutes of walking, the forest is sparser again. In that time, George has fallen behind. They were supposed to stay close, but he’s at least thirty yards behind the others. He trudges miserably. Weaving through the wet foliage has soaked George’s trousers, and the wet cotton sticks uncomfortably to his thighs.
Still, the others call Elis’s name.
But their search is nearly over now. Through the trees, George can just about make out the outline of the hide, maybe a hundred yards away.
A great gust swipes at the trees, making them groan and hiss. It shakes water from the canopy, and more gets in under George’s coat, its cold fingers tracing down his back.
He shivers.
The others are approaching the hide. From somewhere near to it comes a high-pitched sort of yelp. A squeal of surprise or shock. Like a hare learning its fate on the running ground at the end of a coursing match.
George pauses. And then a sharp sound pierces the air, an urgent frequency cutting through the storm’s low growl. A scream.
Chapter 43
Polly
They all stare at each other. No one is staring at the body. Oh God. The body. That’s what he is, now. What he’s been reduced to. Elis’s corpse lies haphazardly on the muddy ground next to the steps to the hide. His torso is on its side, and because his waterproof is unzipped, the cause of his death is gruesomely apparent. Polly ventures no closer. The sound of the rain against the nylon of her coat crackles like a lit fuse. Inside it, she realises suddenly, her limbs have begun to tremble.
She only takes one look, but it’s enough to see that the light in him has been extinguished. The wound at his neck is horrible, but it’s the look in his eyes – or, more precisely, the lack of any look – that’s seared on her mind. She averts her gaze, looking anywhere but there. A deep sickness swirls in her stomach. She looks at the faces huddled around, and they all do the same: scanning each other, as if one of them will reveal the answer to this crisis. Instead, they’re stunned into muteness. The only one making a sound is Jessie, and her whimpering is barely audible, drowned out by the sound of rain, and the wind-shaken branches and fidgety leaves. They cup hands over their mouths and wear expressions of pure horror.
Jessie begins muttering what sounds like a prayer.
Faith is the next to speak. ‘What do we do?’
Polly expects George to begin barking instructions, but he doesn’t. In fact, he’s furthest from Elis’s body. And silent. There’s nothing they can do for Elis – he’s so obviouslydead. This is bad. Really bad. And yet no one is doing anything. They’re all just standing here in the pouring rain.
‘Okay,’ Polly says, unsure of what she’s about to say. ‘Has anyone got their phone?’
Reubyn pulls his iPhone out of his pocket. ‘I do,’ he says, in a small voice.
‘Call the emergency services.’
‘There’s no signal,’ he says.
‘Just try it,’ she snaps.
Reubyn taps at his phone, then holds it to his ear. A few moments later, he looks at the screen and shakes his head.
