Page 116 of Runner 13
I hear a roar behind me then, something primal and so dark it sends a bolt of terror through me.
He closes the gap between us in a couple of strides. I jump to the next boulder but he snatches at my bullet-grazed arm and the jolt of pain as his fingers press against my wound makes my knees buckle, my weight colliding with the jebel. He has the sleeve of my shirt in his hand, holding me up awkwardly. I kick my legs out, trying to free myself from his grasp.
This is it.
The moment he kills me. I see it in his eyes.
‘Wait!’ I cry out, half strangled by the neck of my running shirt. My foot lodges between the boulder and the solid rock of the jebel. ‘You don’t have to do this.’
He grimaces in response, knowing I’m playing games with him. Trying to get him to talk. He’s not going to take the bait.
‘Of course I do. If I know anything about you, it’s that you don’t bloody quit.’
The pressure from my leg is enough. The boulder we’re standing on begins to move. It slides. He lets go of me to stabilize himself. But I kick harder. Push with all my might. The rock gathers speed, heading towards the cliff edge – the man with it.
Yet I am sliding too.
We’re both going down.
It’s my feet that save me. My ability to stay up, to keep moving, torun.
Momentum is in my favour. I manage to launch myself forward on to more solid rock. I turn round just in time to see his expression. The realization of what is about to happen to him. He tries to run too, out of instinct. But something happens to him – to his ankle. It folds, crumples, his leg collapsing beneath him.
I think I might be hallucinating, but it’s as if I see a thousand expressions cross his face in a single moment. Every permutation of anger, disbelief, sorrow and then – at the very last – fear. He reaches out his hand to me.
He looks like a boy then. Helpless. Small. Terrified.
I throw out my hand.
Our fingers brush. But it’s too late. The boulder gains momentum and he’s dragged down with it, off the edge and down towards the sand.
I scream.
There’s a crack as he lands. I wait there, my breath ragged, my eyes shut. Hoping this is all a terrible dream.
But it isn’t. It’s real. I creep towards the edge, daring to look over, but he’s so small from up here. I can’t tell if he’s moving. But he is hundreds of feet down and his body is bent at an unnatural angle. Even if he is somehow alive, he’s not getting back up here in a hurry.
It’s over.
I crawl back to Rupert and, willing my trembling hands to work, tear strips off the bottom of my T-shirt, using them to wrap round the wound on his leg. I press the buttons on his emergency beacon. I need to get him down.
My arm is throbbing, but I support him with my other side.
He moans.
‘Rupert, it’s Adrienne.’ I talk to steady him, to steady myself. ‘We’re not going to die today. It’s not our time. We’re going to finish this.’
53
Stella
‘There! What is that?’ I point to the bottom of the jebel. We’re speeding along the road as fast as the Jeep can take us.
Ali leans forward, squinting. ‘Looks like … people? Runners?’
‘Holy shit.’ I can’t say any more.
He parks, the wheels sending up a spray of dust. The moment the car stops I leap out, running towards the two people.
