Force of Nature (Aaron Falk #2)(50)

‘They’re not mine. Am I not speaking English?’

‘Well. All right then.’ It was clear Jill didn’t believe her.

‘I would say if they were.’ Beth’s eyes felt hot and tight. She waited. No response. ‘They’re not.’

‘The food’s mine.’ They all turned. Bree was standing behind the group. ‘Sorry. I was over there having a pee. It’s mine. I didn’t eat it at lunch.’

Jill frowned. ‘Why didn’t you say when we unloaded our bags?’

‘I forgot. I’m sorry.’

When Beth was younger, she had truly believed in telepathy. She had gazed deep into Bree’s eyes, placed her fingers with ritualistic precision on her twin’s temples. What are you thinking? Bree had outgrown the game first. She’d never been very good at it, which Beth thought explained her lack of interest. When Bree had started batting away her fingers and refusing to maintain eye contact, Beth had taken to watching her from across the room, tuning in to the grace notes in her speech and the subtleties in her movements. Searching for clues. What are you thinking, Bree? It wasn’t really telepathy, Beth realised later, more an ability to read nuances and tics. And now, that unspoken language in which Beth had once been fluent was whispering in her ear. Bree is lying. Whatever reason she’d had for not sharing, it hadn’t been forgetfulness.

‘You don’t have to cover for her, Bree.’ Alice sounded disappointed.

‘I’m not.’ Beth could hear the wobble in her twin’s voice.

‘Nobody blames you. Don’t lie for her.’

‘I know. I’m not.’

‘Really? Because this isn’t like you.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

Even with a confession, Bree could do no wrong. Beth almost felt like laughing. Almost, but not quite, because in the dark she could hear her sister on the verge of tears. She sighed.

‘Look. Okay.’ Beth tried to sound contrite. ‘The food was mine.’

‘I knew it.’

‘Yes, Alice. You were right, well done. Sorry, Bree –’

‘It wasn’t –’ Bree tried to interject.

‘Thanks for trying to help, but it’s really okay. I’m sorry, everyone.’

It was strange, she thought. She could almost feel the palpable relief. Bree was in the right and Beth was in the wrong. The natural order restored, everyone could relax. There was nothing to see here.

‘All right,’ Jill said finally. ‘Let’s split what we have and we’ll let that be the end of it.’

‘Fine.’ Beth turned her back before she could be drawn into a discussion about sanctions or punitive portions. ‘Do whatever you want. I’m going to bed.’

She could tell they were watching as she pulled off her boots and climbed fully clothed into her sleeping bag. She burrowed down, pulling the hood over her head. It was barely warmer in than out, and the ground jabbed and prodded her through the thin material.

She could hear strains of muffled discussion as she closed her eyes. She wasn’t comfortable, but sheer exhaustion pulled her towards sleep. She was on the cusp of dropping off when she felt the gentle weight of a hand on the top of her bag.

‘Thank you.’ The voice was a whisper.

Beth didn’t respond and a moment later felt the weight disappear. She kept her eyes closed, ignoring the faint sounds of arguing, first about the food, then about a fire.

The next time she opened them, it was with a jolt. She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, but it must have rained at some point. The ground around her bag was soaked and her limbs were heavy with cold.

Beth lay shivering as she listened. Had something woken her? She blinked, but her eyes were as good as blind in the dark. She could hear nothing but the rustle of man-made material around her ears as she breathed in and out. There was something in the neck of her sleeping bag and she recoiled, then prodded it with a finger. It was a wedge of cheese sandwich and a slice of apple wrapped in damp plastic. Beth couldn’t tell if it was her own fifth or her sister’s quarter. She considered not eating it, but her hunger was shouting louder than her principles. Different rules applied out there, anyway.

Beth wasn’t sure if the others had sensed it, but earlier she had felt the faintest stirrings in the atmosphere. Something base and elemental and almost primitive, where a bit of stale bread and cheese became a prize worth fighting for.

There was a movement outside her sleeping bag and Beth stiffened. She couldn’t tell what had made it – woman or wildlife. She lay still and by the time it disappeared, the word she’d been searching for had formed on the tip of her tongue, so real she could almost taste its residue. Feral.





Chapter 13



Carmen’s room was inky black. Falk handed her his torch and heard her swear softly as she stumbled her way to the window and opened the curtains. The emergency lights from the grounds were enough to give form to the furniture in the room.

‘Grab a seat,’ she said.

Like in his room, there were no chairs. Falk sat on the edge of the bed. Carmen’s room was exactly the same as his, small and sparsely furnished, but the air smelled a little different. Something pleasantly light and subtle that reminded him vaguely of summer months. He wondered if Carmen always smelled like that, or if he just hadn’t noticed before.