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Chapter One
The pager went off just when I was about to drift off to sleep. Typical. I jumped out of bed, adrenaline racing through my body, erasing all traces of tiredness. I was changed into my hiking clothes and on the way to the station in what felt like seconds.
Snow had started falling sometime after I'd come home from work; thick, fluffy flakes that had already covered the ground an inch or two deep. They looked like they were here to stay. Down here, everyone would be excited to have a White Christmas. But it wasn't the weather to climb mountains in. Visibility would be crap. I hoped this would be an easy rescue, if there was such a thing. I had an early start tomorrow, and besides, it was freezing, dark and snowing. About the worst conditions to be outside in, let alone climb hills.
Half the team was already assembled at the wee church that had been converted to Cairngorms Mountain Rescue HQ, some looking like they'd already been asleep, others brimming with energy, eager to go.
Karl, a bearded giant of a man who had become team leader last year when my gramps had retired from active duty, banged his fist on a table, instantly quieting the room.
"I know it's three days to Christmas, so I appreciate you all coming out during this busy time. We have a missing person on or near Ben Macdui," he announced. "Hamish Harris is his name. His wife called the police half an hour ago, reporting that he hasn't come home. He sent a picture from the summit in the early afternoon, but they've been unsuccessful in establishing contact with him, so we've been tasked to go out and search. Three teams. Claire, Simon, George, Jack, you're team one…"
Ten minutes later, I was being shaken like a daiquiri in the MRT jeep. If I hadn't already been fully awake by now, the bumpy ride along a forest track would have done it. While Jack next to me was looking at maps, planning the best route for our ascent, I was fiddling with our radios, making sure they were all fully charged and set to the right frequency. Everyone in the team had a task, which meant we drove in silence while everyone prepared themselves both mentally and physically. This was the first missing person of the winter season and the tension was palpable.
The silence continued even as we unloaded the jeep, helping each other put on our heavy packs filled with survival equipment for both us and the casualty. All of us had been part of the MRT for years, and it showed. We were ready to set off in record time, just as the snowfall thinned a little. As much as I loved snow, I wished for it to stop entirely.
"Ben Macdui," Jack muttered, peering into the darkness. "Do you know the stories?"
I grabbed my poles and poked the snow in front of me. It had become deeper already. "Doesn't everyone?"
"What stories?" Simon piped from behind me. He was a banker from London who'd moved to Scotland a few years ago. He still stuck out like a sore thumb, no matter how much he tried to be part of the community. Despite his perfectly manicured fingernails and designer specs, he was an excellent mountaineer. Never judge a man by his fingernails.
"We’ll tell you on the way,” Jack said with glee. I knew already that he was about to embellish the old legends with gory details to scare the ex-banker.
I lifted my radio to my lips. “Team one to base, we’re setting off now.”
“Roger, team one. Good luck.”
I wiped the snowflakes off my glasses. We’d need all the luck we could get.
The higher we climbed, the worse the conditions got. The wind was howling ominously, lending a soundtrack to the flurry of snowflakes. The track was invisible beneath the snow, so we only made slow progress, using our poles to test the ground in front of us for sudden drops and slippery stones. We walked in a line, shoulders hunched, hoods drawn deep, taking turns shouting the missing man’s name. The storm’s noise made it impossible to talk, so Jack didn’t even try to tell his stories.
I peered into the darkness, hope blossoming every time my torchlight fell across a vaguely human shape, only to be disappointed when it turned out to be rocks. We’d not heard anything from the other teams. Because nobody knew what route the man had taken, our three teams were covering different ascents, hoping he had already made his way down from the summit. In these conditions, there was little chance of us reaching the top of Ben Macdui. Even on good days, it took almost a full day for ascent and descent. At night and with snow hiding treacherous crevasses…it seemed impossible.
We switched positions a few times, taking turns in leading our small group through the darkness. Our headlamps reflected off the snow, creating eerie streaks of light that seemed to be torn apart by falling snow.
I was at the back of the group when I heard it. A man’s voice, shouting, barely indistinguishable from the howl of the wind as it cut across rocks. I stopped in my tracks, pointing my torch at the direction of the sound.
“Guys, stop!” I called, but didn’t dare turn back to the others. If the casualty was out there, he needed to see my light to guide him to us. If he could walk.
“Hello? Hamish? Can you see us?” I shouted as loud as I could, then pushed back my hood to listen.
Nothing. Had I imagined it? Had it been just the storm? I slowly counted to ten in my head, giving him the chance to call out once more.
There, the crunching sound of footsteps on snow. Someone was walking towards me. I squinted, trying to see through the thick curtain of snowflakes. It was impossible to see further than a few feet.
“Hello? Mountain Rescue! We’re here to help!”
I took a few steps in the direction of the sound. The footsteps seemed to get closer.
“Guys, can you see anything?” I asked, turning to my teammates – who weren’t there. It took a moment for the truth to sink in. They hadn’t heard me when I’d told them to stop. They’d continued on and because I’d been at the back, they hadn’t noticed that I’d not followed. Fuck. I should have double-checked that they had indeed heard me.
At least I still had my radio. As soon as I found the guy, I could let them know that way.
Crunch. Crunch. It was strange how close the footsteps sounded, yet I still couldn’t see anyone. Maybe the towering rocks created an echo effect. But I was sure the man was out there. This wasn’t the sound of snow falling or an animal running from my torch’s light. The crunching was unmistakably someone walking through deep snow. But where was he?
With one last look in the direction of where my teammates had disappeared, I continued walking towards the sound. My glasses could have done with little windscreen wipers. Snow was everywhere; on my face, on my backpack, on the locks of hair that had freed themselves from my quickly tied bun. For now, I barely felt the cold. Adrenaline was keeping it at bay, but I knew that as soon as we found the casualty, I would be freezing and in need of not just a hot shower, but preferably a large hot chocolate.
“Hellooooooo? Where are you?!”
