He stepped back up onto the road and started running again, Coldbrook at his back, the long slope of the ridge ahead of him. Danton Rock was maybe a mile away over the curve of the hilltop. Already he could see the first few farm buildings. To the east the sun was smudging the division between night and morning, and he was beginning to dread what the day would bring.
The satphone shrilled again, but Vic ignored it. He couldn’t talk to Jonah just yet. Whatever the shooting was about, they’ve got it contained, he thought, trying to make sense of what he was doing. Trying to divert the blame. He had to keep it at bay until he reached his family. Then he could speak to Jonah; then he could find out what had really happened and how bad it was.
‘I’ll be back down there by sunset,’ he muttered, his voice shaking as he ran. ‘He’ll be fucking furious, he’ll dock a month’s money, but he’ll need me down there.’
The lies kept coming as the road passed by beneath his feet, and the rising sun started to dry the thin, putrid mud coating his right side. He was exhausted but he ran on, ignoring for now his straining lungs and the burning in his knees and legs. His satphone had gone silent and he started to fear what that meant.
The road twisted up towards the ridge, and as it started to level out he passed the small farm on Danton Rock’s outskirts. A few cows lifted their heads to watch him pass by, still chewing the cud, uninterested. A dog barked somewhere out of sight, and he could hear the sound of a motor among the farm buildings.
He slowed down, the shaking in his chest forcing him to a walk. He passed several houses on his right and a row of shops on his left, a couple of small restaurants tucked neatly between a baker’s, a food store, and a pharmacy. He and Lucy had eaten in the Asian restaurant several times, and once they’d been in there when Holly had walked in. Vic’s surprise had been genuine – Holly rarely ventured out of Coldbrook, and when she did she tended to travel to Asheville for a couple of days away from work. It had not been the first time that Holly and Lucy had met, and he’d sat awkwardly while the two women exchanged pleasantries. He and Holly had still been involved then, and the rest of the evening after she joined the friends who’d arrived soon after had been strained. He and Lucy had made love when they returned home, he remembered, and afterwards she had asked him what was wrong.
He started to run again, driven by thoughts of his wife.
‘We have to get away. In ten minutes. Pack a bag for both of you, but leave Olivia on the Wii for now. How’s the car? Is the tank full?’
Lucy stood at their kitchen counter, still wearing her dressing gown, hair a mess, eyes puffy from sleep. Coffee was brewing, and as she and Vic stared at each other in uneasy silence the toaster popped up three slices. Vic jumped slightly, then looked around their kitchen. He spoke with Lucy several times each day but he had not been home since breach, four days earlier.
‘You’re covered in mud.’
‘Yeah.’
He’d appeared at the back door to see Lucy stretching and yawning, mug in one hand and the other scratching absently below one breast. Then she’d seen him, her eyes going wide and a slick of coffee spilling down her front. It had not been hot.
‘I don’t understand. Why won’t you tell me why?’
‘I will. When we’re on the road,’ he said again. If he started now, he’d have to finish, and he had no real idea how this would end. He’d drive and talk at the same time. And if he was going to scare her he’d rather it were as they were leaving than now, when she had herself and Olivia to get together. And he had stuff to think about, things they’d need to take with them. Vic, something’s come through . . . a creature, but . . .
‘But you’re scaring me!’ Lucy said. ‘You look—’