Black Ice (24 page)

'That's right,' Palli said.

'Sent me back and got me kicked out of the marines. Yessir, that's what  they did  to me.'

At  least  I'd  got  him  talking,  and  while  he was  talking  he wasn't doing any of the alternatives. 'So why did you come back then?'

'I got  friends,  see.  Good  friends.  They  told  me what  was

really  going  on.  Soon  as  I  found  out,  I came  out  here  right away.'

I was so soaked  that  my clothes were sticking  to me and  the

shivers were almost  making  my limbs kick out. What  I wanted most  of  all  was  to  see  what  was  going  on,  instead  of  this imprisoned  feeling  from  the  blindfold.   But  the  minute my hands went  up to the  binding, Oscar's snapped warning was enough.

'Why   worry?'  I  heard   Palli  say  to  him,  quietly.   'Shit,   he knows who we are.'

'Because he stays  blind,  that's why.'

If that  was  Palli's  preparation for a getaway,  it hadn't got very far. That made  me think of Christopher. If he was Batty's man,  I thought, where  the hell was he now? And the thought that  someone else out there  might  have some idea of my plight gave me a chance- remote, but a chance. I felt I had something left to play for.

'I don't get  it.' Even  to me, my voice sounded bold.  'You know about me and  you know about Kirillina .. .'

'Who?' He sounded sharp.

'The Russian.'

'Oh.' He relapsed. For a moment  he thought  there was yet another man  and  he was all set to fire up again.

'You  knew she wasn't a faithful little wifey waiting for you to come  back. It doesn't make sense. Why come  back?'

'Because of things.' He sounded like a petulant child.

'What things?'

'I told  you.  Things I was  told  by friends.  Anyway,  that's none of your  business  ...'

'Why're you tying  that  to the car, Oscar?'

I was  trying  like  mad  to piece the scene  together.  Oscar's voice had strangled a little as though  he was bending over. And Palli did sound  alarmed  this time.

'Don't worry, Palli. He'll tell me, then we'll be pals. Anyway, look at him, he's wet already.'

I knew then what he meant  to do and I still didn't believe it. He was right in front of me again.  His breath smelt like a stable at dawn.  I held a cold nylon rope in my hand.

'Hang on to that,  cutie, you're gonna  need it.'

'Christ, Oscar!'  Palli was up close too, now. 'You  can't do that.  No more killings. You promised  no more killings.'

'He ain't dead.' He said it in the steady, reasonable tone of a man who is raving  mad.

Then  he gave me a push in the chest with his finger-tips. Any other  time it wouldn't even have dented  my shirt-front. Here, on the edge of an unseen cliff, soaked  and  frozen,  with all my black terror  trapped  behind  a blindfold,  I rocked  wildly. And all the time I was winding  the stiff rope around my hands and wrists.

'Course you can always  take a shower  .. .'

'You don't have to do that  to him. Let me push him around a bit. I know a few things . . .'

'One quick  dip  under  there  and  he'll  talk.  If he comes  up again.'

The two of them were talking in raised voices above the noise of the water and all I could do was listen.  I bent towards  their invisible figures and  raged:  'I don't know.  I tell you,  I don't know.'

It  silenced  both  of  them.  In  a  quiet   tone,  Oscar  merely replied: 'Tell  me that  again  in a couple of minutes.'

Then  he pushed  me backwards.

For  a moment,  I dreamed it  was one  of those  kid's  party games where you trick a blindfolded  victim  into thinking he's standing on a chair,  and  get him to jump. He's  really on  the floor, of course, so when he expects  to fall two or three feet, he only falls an inch.

It's  that old trick, I thought, as my foot went out backwards feeling for the ground. Only  there  wasn't  any  ground. I was falling.

38

In my time, I've done my share of falling. I've fallen out of bed, I've  fallen out of love, and  I've fallen out of a few pubs  with a little  help from  the landlord.

But  this wasn't the sort of fall where  you come off a ladder. I'd  come  off the  whole  damned earth. It was spinning away from  me, leaving  me behind,  and  I was left like a traveller  in space  who's  missed  the intergalactic bus.

I couldn't see. In a way, it didn't matter now. I could feel the echoing emptiness of the universe all around me. I was back to being a babe-in-arms with that first and most primitive of fears -the fear of falling. There was a timeless moment  when I hung out  in space  as though  nothing had  really happened, then  the rush  of air  as  I  dropped. The  thick  spray  of water  that  I'd ceased  to  notice  suddenly turned   into  a  torrent   as  I swung under  the edge of the waterfall. The force of it caught the right hand side of my body, then my head and chest, as it turned  me more inwards, pummelling me down,  down,  down.

Like a leaf in a hurricane, I was tossed  and  tugged as the force  of  the  water   threatened  to  yank  my  arms  from  their sockets. I'd  run out of rope. For the moment, I was at the end of my fall. Then  the force of the falling water doubled  and doubled again  as I failed  to move with it.

Somehow I'd set my arms ready for the brake of the rope, and my feet - acting  on no instructions from me- had managed  to find a protruding rock and  instinctively kicked  me out of the heaviest flow of the river. Even so, I was left hanging  there, face up, feet against the rock, while the vast solid weight of the water avalanched down upon me. The rope burned  across my hands. Every whisper  of breath was battered from my body by the hammering waters,  and  there  was no air,  nothing to breathe. Only  the water,  crashing ceaselessly  on to me.

Seconds. I only  had seconds.  Then  I would  be choked  and swept  away  in the torrents.

I bent my knees so that I sank further into the sheets of water, then  sprung myself outwards. I felt the  water  spew  from  my lungs and sucked in streams of clean sweet air. And,  blind as I was, I could've sworn  I heard  larks sing in the bright  blue skies as I felt the relief, away  from  that  pounding crushing power. Then, as quickly,  I was  back  beneath the  hammer of water again.

Knees  bend,  press, spew,  breathe. Again.  I don't know how many  times  I did  it.  To  my surprise, I suddenly felt myself rising up through the edge of the cataract. I couldn't think why. I'd  forgotten  there  was a world above  me, and  people on it. I hung  on  to the  rope and  rose through the water  like a gaffed salmon.

Face down on the rock, I pumped  up quite a few waterfalls of my own. Someone  sat  astride me, working  my back.  I didn't know who. It wasn't important.

'I think  he'll  be okay ...'

'Sure  he'll  be okay,  I told you ...'

'Jesus, I thought he'd  been blown off .. .'

'He's a cutie,  you said so yourself .. .'

There was plenty  more. I didn't listen.  I couldn't take it in. But,  between   the  eruptions of  my own  body,  one  tiny  frail thought was beginning to take shape. I had to cling hard  to it.

A hand  turned  my head sideways. 'Where the fuck is she?'

'For  Christ's sake, he doesn't know, he said .. .'

'He knows.  I can tell. So where is she?'

'He's damn  near dead,  Oscar. The  guy can't even talk if he wants  to. He's  only just  breathing.'

'He's in great  shape. Anyway,  I think  I'll  give him another shower. Shake  him up a bit more.'

'Don't be dumb, Oscar. You said  no more killing. He can't take any  more. Look at him.'

'He looks fine. One last time, feller, then it's bath-time again. Come  on, tell me all about  it.'

'He  can't even hear you. He doesn't know we're  here. Let's drop  him off at the nearest  house we can find-if we can find one at all in this goddam wilderness- and if they get a doctor  right away  maybe  he won't  die.'

Hands went  under  my arms  and  began  lifting  me.  I  was sitting up. Apparently.

'Let  me try then,  Osc.  Let me talk to him.'

'Okay, but if he don't talk, he's over the edge.'

A hand slapped my face, both sides. 'Sam? It's  Palli. Can you hear  me? Shit,  Oscar, I think  he's dead  already. Can  you understand me? Try  to open  your  eyes, Sam.  Come  on, open up. Where's Solrun?  He's dying, Oscar, I know it. He's dying.'

In a last spasm  I threw a gutful of water  all over Palli.

As I sank  back,  the words  came  in a hollow rumble  all the way up from my belly. It sounded like a belch, no more.

'What's he say? Bush something?'

'What was it? Once  more. Tell  me again.  Where  is she?'

I belched and groaned  and spewed another bubble of water.

'The Pushkin? The  trawler  in the harbour?' I groaned  again.

I could  hear  them  talking.  Boat? What  boat? Russian. Spy boat.  What'd I tell you. Said  he knew. Knew  he knew. Take him somewhere. Doctor.  The  hell. Live. Die. Out  here,  who cares? Let's go. Doc. No doc. Finished.  Waste of time. If he gets back.    Laughter.   Nowhere.    Going    nowhere.    He's   going nowhere.

Peace  covered  me.  Pleasure  like I have  never  known  filled me. If only they'd  said  what  they wanted. Good old Palli.  He knew all along.  I lay there,  going  nowhere,  finished,  and  the only sound  was the hiss and  crash  of the falling water.

39

Nature  woke me just in time to be principal  witness at my own death-bed scene. Or so it seemed  to me.

It was the cold that snapped me into consciousness. The stiff mountain wind had almost dried  my trousers, shirt and jacket, and driven  the aching  cold of the waterfall  deep into my bones. I  could   feel  my   whole   body   shaking.  My   teeth   weren't chattering- they were taking  burger-sized bites out of the air. Yet  my mind  was diamond-sharp. I felt as though  I could solve the mystery of the world's creation and still go on to do the Daily Mirror crossword. I was  that  good.  I was so amazingly alert  that  I even knew the alertness itself wasn't real.

But  I  still  couldn't see.  Easy.  Rip  off bandages. I  said  it again: rip off bandages. No one did anything. Right.  Hand, I said,  with  more  severity  this  time,  rip off sodding  bandages. Slowly, lazily, hand  plucked  at them.  Fortunately, the soaking and the drying had weakened  them and eventually they fell in a thin  rolled collar  around my neck.

My eyes flinched  from  the light.  I clapped my hands  over them,  massaging them slowly as they became accustomed to it. I'd  no idea  how long they'd  been bound. My watch  had gone, ripped  away  under  the waterfall.

As  my  eyesight  cleared, I  looked  around. The  sky  was  a uniform  pale grey and  the light was the pearly  dream  light of the northern night.  It was still night  then.

They'd dropped me fifty yards  or so from  the waterfall. I'd heard  it for so long now that  its thunder was a perpetual background. The   river  came  down  from  my  left  in  a  wide smooth  sweep  which  broke  up when  it hit a series of stepped falls, each  ten or twenty  foot deep.  There the water  whitened among the first rocks, fell into a deep pool where it slowed and circled,  recovering  its dazzling blue, then gradually inched  up to  the  cliff-edge  where  it  crashed   in one  unbroken cascade. From where  I was, it stretched out in a pretty  lace curtain that had nothing to do with the boiling spitting mass which had pounded  me. Around it  rose  the  spray, in  glittering clouds. After  the falls, the river  ran  off unseen  in a chasm  across  the wide  flat  lava  field,  whose  perimeter was  ringed  in  the  far distance by saw-edged, white-tipped mountains.

Around me were bare rocks, every shade from black to bright rust  red.  Beyond  that,  a few yards  away,  was a long sloping incline   of  springy   moorland  grass,   with  deep   tyre   marks showing  where  the car  had gone. The  nylon  rope was on the ground beside  me. It must've been fastened  to the bumper of the car- which  explained why I'd risen so swiftly.

That was the way they'd  gone. That was the way I'd  have to go, too. Somewhere down that track there must be a road, and a road  meant  tourists and  traffic.

So. All I had  to do was to get up and go.

Up  we go, wobble  for balance, step  forward, one two three four, crash, down. Damned legs withdrawn labour. Sit up. Try again. Stand. Slowly  this  time.  Better.  Straighten, right  foot, left foot. Knees like broken  hinges, legs go again. Christ. Down again. In the mud.

Stay  here.  Lie  here.  Till  they  come.  Aha.  Trick.   No one coming.   No  one  knows.  No  one  cares.   Unwanted orphan. Always alone.  Dying, on cold rock on top of world.

Legs, I said,  move. Up again.  Right foot, left foot, right foot.

Again  and  again. Brow of hill. At last.  View across lava field. Oh, my God! Miles and  miles of it. Thin  brown  track  runs in long straight line  to base of mountain range.  Road  at  foot of range.  How far? Three miles. More.  Hours of walking. Can't make it. Never.  Never.

Next  time,  it was the heat  that  awakened me. Before my eyes opened  I felt the hot stable breath  around my ear and neck and thought that Oscar had come back to give me another shower.

I  turned my  head  and  half-rolled  over.  A pony,  its  black rubber mouth   and  nose  nuzzling   my  neck,  swung  its  head round  and  trotted off. Then  I saw I was surrounded by them. There must've been nearly  twenty  of the rough-coated ponies that  run in herds  there and  come down  to the road for salt.

As I sat  up, swords  of pain  cut  into  me and  my diamond sharp mind  felt about as brilliant as a bucket of mud.  I knew where I was all right. And I could see the line of the road under the mountains in the distance. It must  be another two to three miles away  still. Two  or  three  yards  I could  manage. Miles, never.

Some  of the clouds  had shifted  now and  pale sunlight was painting the  lava field in moss-green  patches. The  night  was over.  I squinted again  at  the distant road  and saw a cloud of dust  moving  jerkily  along  its course.  A car,  probably taking tourists  up to the waterfalls  at Gullfoss.