I could hear something, very faintly. Footsteps. The snow was so heavy, the wind whipping around me, cold biting at my bones.
‘Come back inside,’ Morag said. Suddenly she was there, beside me. ‘He just wants to talk. Straighten this out. Let’s… oh.’
A figure stepped out of the blizzard.
It was Zack. Of course it was Zack.
But what I hadn’t been expecting to see was the gun.
30
Zack was wearing a long parka and a woollen hat, snow clinging to both, and in his arms was a hunting rifle. The snow was in my eyes, on my lashes, and I was half blinded.
‘I didn’t tell him anything, I promise,’ Morag said. ‘You said you just want to talk to him, right?’
Zack stood there, silent, like an apparition.
‘What the hell is going on?’ I said. ‘Zack?’
He seemed to be thinking about what to do. I suppose I should have been more scared of the gun, but I knew him. I’d just been talking to him in the pub. We were staying in the same house; part of the same family. Surely he wouldn’t hurt me?
He pointed the rifle at my chest.
I immediately put my hands up. ‘Zack?’
He still didn’t speak. Snow landed on my tongue, stuck to my face. It had slowed a little while we had been standing here, but it only added to the air of unreality, as if the world was grinding to a halt, everything happening in slow motion.
Zack kept the rifle pointed at my chest for several long seconds.
Then he jerked it towards Morag and shot her in the chest. Once, then again.
I think I gasped as she fell. I don’t remember. All I recall is the look of shock on her face as the gun swivelled towards her.
And then Zack tossed the rifle to me.
Instinctively, I caught it. But, of course, he knew I didn’t know how to use it. Before I could even think about turning it on him he had retreated into the darkness. By the time my wits had returned, he was back at his car, starting the engine, driving away.
Leaving me with the body, and with the gun that killed her in my hands.
I dropped it like it was burning my palms and knelt beside Morag, who lay on the path, blood sprayed across the snow. There was no doubt that she was dead. There was a hole in the front of her coat and more blood on her face, pooling in the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were still open in that shocked expression.
I stood and stared at her as the flakes settled on her body.
My second corpse today.
Zack. I still couldn’t believe it. Zack had murdered her. But why her, not me? I was in such a state of shock that I couldn’t think straight. None of what had just happened made any sense. It was like coming out of a loud rock concert, ears ringing, hearing muffled. I needed it to fade so my senses would work properly again. My senses and my brain. My body was so full of adrenaline and cortisol that I was like my animal ancestor, all reason subsumed by instinct.
Then I heard a car engine behind me.
Oh God, I thought.He’s coming back. He’s changed his mind. Decided to finish me off.
I picked the gun up. I had never even held one before, let alone fired one. I didn’t know if it contained any bullets. Zack had shot Morag twice, but if he’d used this gun while hunting they might have been the last bullets left. On top of that, I knew that to hit him, especially in this weather, he would haveto be extremely close. Like, a metre away from me. If he had Charles’s rifle, or any other weapons, I was dead.
It was better to hide and hope he came close without seeing me. Then, if I thought it was necessary, I could shoot him at close range.
Shoot someone. At close range. I could hardly believe such thoughts were going through my head. But even in my panicked state I knew one thing: I would flee, I might fight, but I would not freeze and allow myself to be killed like Morag.
I ran towards the bothy. The door was still wide open and a glance inside confirmed there was nowhere to hide inside that little building. I would be the proverbial fish in the barrel. I looked to my left. I could possibly make it to the caves, I thought, but if I ran in that direction I would be exposing myself if Zack had another rifle.
