The land was huge, the sky even larger. Humans were small here, stripped to the bare essentials of existence, the trappings of their lives made inconsequential by the scope and scale of where they were. Nature was in command.
Chris loved landscapes like this. He lived for the few times each year when he could get away for a weekend, with or without his family, and run and hike through the mountains. He was not a believer in anything divine, but being somewhere like this invoked the closest he ever felt to a spiritual experience. Once, running across the foothills of Ben Nevis, he had realised that he was an animal, just like any other. It was a sobering, thrilling experience. He had always remembered that time, and dwelling on it made him calm, and sane, and able to face the trivialities of business and human existence with renewed strength.
He thought he recognised this place, and a glimpse of a bilingual road sign confirmed his suspicions. They were heading into the Welsh mountains.
But nothing about this was right.
‘I’m just an architect,’ he said. ‘I live a good life. Nice, comfortable, uninspiring. Boring, some of my friends tell me. But I like my work, love doing sports with my girls. My wife and I get on well, still, after a long time together. We’ve got our differences, but who hasn’t? We’re happy.’ He nodded, blinking away tears. ‘This isn’t my world. I know stuff like this happens, and it scares me because of my girls. It terrifies me that people like them … and you … exist. I see it on the news sometimes, you know, “Young girl kidnapped, raped and murdered”, and sometimes the terror just makes everything seem so hopeless.’
‘That’s because you can’t protect your family,’ Rose said softly.
‘Yes. Yes! Terri and I do everything we can for our kids, but you can’t allow for evil.’
‘I’m not evil,’ she said. ‘My family was very much like yours.’
‘Was?’ Chris could hear something in her voice that betrayed that, perhaps, he was getting to her. Maybe she was starting to feel something. Even when she was tugging her knife through the remains of that man’s throat – an image he would never, ever be able to shake, try though he might – her face had barely changed.
‘They’re dead,’ Rose said. ‘The Trail killed them all. My husband and three children.’
‘No,’ Chris breathed, thinking of his own family trussed and blindfolded. ‘It was a woman in the van with them. She might have children of her own, how could she—’
Rose laughed, bitter and harsh. ‘Oh, don’t for a second think of them as human.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘They’re not people. Not normal. They’re monsters. Now shut up, we’re almost there, and I need to listen.’ She powered down both front windows in the car and tilted her head.
‘For what?’
‘Helicopter. I think we’ve got the lead on them, but we’ll have to stop soon.’
‘I have no idea what you’re doing,’ Chris said. He sounded pathetic, pleading, but Rose did not react. Whatever she said about them – the Trail, whoever they were – seemed to apply to her as well.
‘Rucksack in the back. Take what’s useful from the bag they gave you, too.’
‘What’s—’
‘Shut the fuck up!’ she snapped, glaring at him for a second then looking ahead again.
Chris reached into the back seat and snagged the rucksack resting there. It was a good one, a forty-litre day sack that he might well have chosen for himself. Several access zips, a waterproof cover in the base, small hip pockets on the waist strap. A whistle and compass built into the shoulder straps. Hydration bladder. It was heavy, and he grunted as he lifted it over into his lap.
For a moment he considered slamming the bag against Rose. He could knock her head against the doorpost, grab the wheel, steer them off the road and into a stone wall. While she struggled he could grab the gun from between her knees and press it into her stomach, and then everything would change. Then he would be in charge, and all the answers he sought would come tumbling from her mouth.
Except … he wasn’t sure they would. She would only tell him what she wanted him to know, gun or no gun. She was like no one he knew – one of them, those people he knew existed but whom he had always hoped he would never have to meet. Violent, brutal, a sharp edge in a life he’d strived to make so smooth. And he had never touched a gun in his life.
She glanced at him, as if reading his mind. Then she frowned and leaned to the side, concentrating on the road but listening for something else.
‘They’re close,’ she said. ‘We don’t have long. I’ll be leaving you soon.’
‘And going where?’
‘Check the bag.’
‘Do you know where my family is?’
Rose shook her head.
‘You do. You know.’
‘I don’t know! But as long as you’re going along with things, they’ll be safe. They’ll stay alive.’ Rose was looking up and around as she drove, trying to spot the helicopter only she could hear.
‘Yours didn’t.’
‘That’s because I didn’t play ball.’
‘So what do I have to do?’ Chris asked. He opened the rucksack and looked inside, knocked sideways for a moment by finding everything so familiar. New running trousers, base layers, weatherproof jacket, survival kit, energy gels, GPS watch, penknife, some energy bars, freeze-dried food packets. And a phone. ‘What the hell … ?’
‘There,’ Rose said. ‘We don’t have long.’ She changed down a gear and pressed on the gas, powering them up the steep, winding road that headed for a low ridge between two monolithic peaks. Chris leaned forward and looked up and ahead of them, and after a few moments he saw the shadow of a helicopter moving against the mountains across the valley. It looked so small against that vast landscape, but he could tell it was larger than a private chopper. Military, perhaps.
‘Rose, please. Please help me. Tell me what’s going on.’
‘You’re going to get out of the car and start running. I’m going to lead them off. That’ll give you a head start.’
‘But why?’
‘Because they’ll be hunting you.’
‘What?’
‘This is a hunt. You’re the prey.’
He shook his head, trying to make sense of anything she was saying. That distance he’d felt back at the house – drawing him back from events, allowing him to react without going mad – suddenly seemed shakier than ever, and fear flooded in once more. His head still throbbed. A cool, sharp pain pulsed across his temple where Rose had hit him, and just thinking of that assault made him feel sick. He’d never been attacked like that before. He felt sick.
‘The Trail provide people for rich clients to hunt.’
‘What, like chase down? Catch?’
‘Kill.’
Chris shook his head. He couldn’t take it in. Kill?
‘It’s a trophy hunt,’ Rose went on. ‘Like with lions and elephant in Africa, except this is with people. You’re the target. There’ll be some fat rich fucks in that helicopter who’ve paid millions each to hunt and kill you. The Trail set it up, provide everything they need – training, weapons, backup and support. They ensure there’re no repercussions. Except I’ve changed their plans a little. This one was supposed to take place in Cardiff Bay and the docklands. The Trail would have steered you here and there, made sure you did all the right things. It’s set up, completely, and when