Force of Nature (Aaron Falk #2)(53)

There was a rumble and a hum somewhere deep in the lodge and without warning the lights flickered on. Falk and Carmen blinked at each other. The confessional atmosphere evaporated with the darkness. They both moved at the same time, her leg brushing against his knee as he rose from the bed. He stood. Wavered.

‘I suppose I’d better make a move before the lights go again.’

The briefest pause. ‘I suppose so.’

Carmen stood and followed him to the door. He opened it, the cold air hitting him with a blast. He could feel her eyes on him as he made the short walk back to his own door.

He turned. ‘’Night.’

A heartbeat of a hesitation. ‘’Night.’ Then she stepped back inside, and was gone.

Back in his room, Falk didn’t turn on the light immediately. Instead he went to the window, letting the thoughts running through his head calm and settle.

The rain had finally stopped and he could make out a handful of stars through the few gaps in the clouds. There had been a time in Falk’s life when he hadn’t looked at the night sky for years. The lights in the city were always too harsh. Nowadays, he tried to remember to look up when he had the chance. He wondered what, if anything, Alice would see if she did the same now.

The moon hung luminous and white with silver threads of cloud suspended in the glow. Falk knew the Southern Cross must be hidden somewhere behind them. He’d seen it a lot as a kid in the country. One of his earliest memories was of his dad carrying him outside and pointing upwards. The sky bright with stars, and his dad’s arm tightly around him, showing him patterns that he said were always there, somewhere in the distance. Falk had always believed him, even if he couldn’t always see them.





Day 3: Saturday Morning


The icy wind blew in from the south and didn’t let up. The women trudged along wordlessly, their heads down against the gale. They had found a tight path, something that was almost a path, at least, something perhaps used by animals. By mutual unspoken consent, no-one pointed out when it vanished under their feet from time to time. They simply lifted their boots higher through the undergrowth and squinted at the ground until something that was almost a path appeared again.

Bree had woken hours earlier, fractious and freezing, unsure how long she’d been asleep. Nearby, she could hear Jill snoring. The woman was a heavy sleeper. Or perhaps simply exhausted. She hadn’t even woken when their makeshift canopy had blown apart in the night.

As Bree lay on the ground staring at the pale morning sky, her bones seemed to ache deep in her body and she felt thick-mouthed from thirst. She could see that the bottles Lauren had put out to collect rainwater had toppled over. They’d be lucky to get a mouthful each. At least the food Bree had left tucked next to her sister’s head was gone. She was both relieved and disappointed.

Bree still wasn’t quite sure why she hadn’t told the others about her uneaten meal. She’d opened her mouth but some long-buried lizard part of her brain had stopped the words from coming out. It scared her a little to think why. Survive was something she joked about doing at her desk until Friday night drinks rolled around. In any other context, the word felt alien and frightening.

She’d tried to talk to her sister that morning as they rolled up their soaked sleeping bags.

‘Thank you.’

It had been Beth’s turn to brush her aside. ‘Forget it. But I don’t know why you’re so scared of them.’

‘Of who?’

‘All of them. Alice. Jill. Daniel, for that matter.’

‘I’m not scared. I just care what they think. They’re my managers, Beth. And yours, by the way.’

‘So what? You’re as good as any of them.’ Beth had stopped packing and looked at her then. ‘In fact, I wouldn’t be clinging too hard to Alice’s coat-tails if I were you.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘It doesn’t matter. But be careful around her. You might do better finding someone else’s arse to lick.’

‘For God’s sake, it’s called taking my career seriously. You should try it.’

‘And you should try to get some perspective. It’s only a bloody job.’

Bree didn’t say anything, because she knew her sister would never understand.

It had taken twenty minutes to pack up their makeshift camp and another hour to decide what to do. Stay or go. Stay. Go.

Alice had wanted to move. Find the campsite, find a way out, do something. No, Lauren had argued, they should stay on high ground. It was safer there. But the wind was wilder there too, slapping against their faces until they were stinging and flushed. When the drizzle started again, even Jill stopped nodding patiently when Lauren spoke. They huddled under a canvas, trying to drip rainwater into a bottle while Alice walked around, waving her phone in the air for as long as they dared. When her battery hit thirty per cent, Jill ordered her to turn it off.

They should stay put, Lauren had tried again, but Alice unfolded the map. They’d crowded around, pointed at paper landmarks as the wind threatened to whip the sheet away. A ridge, a river, a gradient. None matched exactly. They couldn’t agree which peak they were on.

Along one edge of the map ran a vehicle road in the north. If they could bush-bash their way to the road, they could follow it out, Alice said. Lauren had almost laughed. That was so dangerous. So was hypothermia, Alice had replied, staring at her until she’d looked away. In the end, the cold won the argument. Jill announced she couldn’t stand still any longer.