Page 114 of Runner 13
Suddenly, my dad’s words make sense. ‘Oh my God. He never suspected Dale would go totheselengths to stop the runners from finishing. That’s what he meant when hesaid “He’s gone too far”. He tried to stop Dale, and that’s when Dale shot him.’
‘He’d do that for half a million dollars? It’s a lot of money, but to actually murder people … How can it be worth it?’ Pete asks.
‘I don’t know. But it means whoever is in the race is still in danger.’
‘If Adrienne’s emergency beacon has gone off, that means she’s out of contention. Maybe Dale won’t need to do anything to her.’
I bite my lip before speaking, considering Pete’s point. ‘Maybe. But Rupert is still out there. And Hiroko.’
‘Of course.’ Pete leans back against the headrest, but I can see a sliver of hope has crept in. That maybe Adrienne is no longer caught up in all this.
Ali slows the car as we reach the vicinity of the flashing GPS marker. We all press so close to the glass, our breath leaves marks on it, scanning the horizon for signs of life.
That’s when I see it. A slumped figure in a white shirt. I nudge Ali, who sees it too, pulling the car round in that direction.
Pete is out of the vehicle before it’s even stopped. He rushes over, dropping down to help Adrienne.
Except, as I see after a few quick steps of my own, it’s not Adrienne. It’s Hiroko.
He’s fast asleep. He looks shrivelled, dried up like a raisin. He hardly compares to the man who had been on the starting line a few days ago. But he has no injuries that we can see. We attempt to revive him with some water.
‘I don’t understand,’ says Pete. ‘His beacon isn’t even on.’
There’s a red light emanating – flashing – from Hiroko’s breast pocket. I reach inside and pull out a different emergency beacon. ‘Adrienne’s,’ I say.
Pete groans.
She must have come across Hiroko in this state and left her beacon with him so he would be picked up. That means it can’t have been more than an hour ago that she left.
We both look up at the jebel. She’s there – somewhere. Untrackable.
‘We have to climb,’ Pete says.
‘It’s not safe. We can take the car and make it round to the other side – it will still be faster than following her. She’s already got an hour’s head start on us. We can meet her when she comes down the other side.’
‘My legs are fresh. I can run.’
We hold each other’s gaze for a moment. A turning point. There isn’t a decision to be made; that’s already happened. It’s not permission he’s asking for.
I hand him Alex’s map. ‘Follow this,’ I say. ‘We’ll meet you at the bottom here, where they come out for the final push to the finish. I’ll wait for you there. Don’t do anything stupid.’
‘OK,’ he says.
I grip his hand. ‘Be careful.’
As we’re holding hands, a loud bang makes us both duck. I scream.
We look up.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ Pete says. And then he’s off.
52
Adrienne
I don’t know how I manage it, but I land on the trail. Somehow my feet find purchase and my hands clasp the dirt, even though pain is rattling my skull. I glance down and see a rip in my shirt where the bullet has grazed my upper arm. It burns like my arm’s been engulfed in fire. The fact that I’ve been shot at barely registers – the thought is too ludicrous, too outrageous for my brain to comprehend. But I do know that I am alive. My heart is still beating. My lungs are still sucking in air. And that means my work isn’t finished yet.
I’m not dead. But I’m not safe either.
