The Killing Hour

‘Come on,’ Charlie says, tugging her hand. She turns towards him. ‘We have to jump. Now.’


They switch hands and step to the river. There’s no need for any discussion, no time for hesitation. The shotgun explodes behind her but she doesn’t look back to see what has happened. She stares into the water and a second later they’re falling into it.





29


I sink as if a large stone has been shackled to my ankles, but the only extra weight I have is Jo. I cling tightly to her hand as my nose and mouth fill with ice-cold water. It burns my eyes and for my efforts all I can see is nothing. This is complete and utter lack of any light. It feels heavy, almost appealing.

The cold doesn’t wait to jump at the chance to soak across and into my body, trying to hold me, trying to convince me to stay. I kick out to drive us upwards but my feet kick at nothing. The current is moving us but to where I don’t know. Maybe only deeper. Maybe nowhere at all. Maybe right back to Cyris. At the moment it’s peaceful beneath the water. Quiet. And the prospect of drowning isn’t really that scary. In fact it’s almost relaxing, almost …

My feet hit something and I automatically push off from it, my survival instinct kicking in. We head upwards, the current twisting us, moving us through a corridor of no light, no sound. My lungs ache inside my freezing body.

We break the surface and it’s so quick that I barely manage to suck in some air before I’m dragged back under. I pull Jo tighter towards me just as the current smashes me into a large boulder. The contact is spread evenly but painfully across my back, shoulders and head. What air I had pulled in is shoved from my body. Jo’s forehead punches into my jaw. The pain is warm and reminds me all is not lost. I’m still holding the torch, though it isn’t going any more. We’re not going anywhere.

Jo has her arms wrapped around me. I fight with the torch, managing to unscrew the base. The batteries drop into the water and hit me on their way past. I unscrew the top and let it follow. I lift one end of the metal tube above the water and hold the other end to my mouth. The air above is cool and I drink it in and my energy returns quickly. I suck in a deep breath and put the tube in Jo’s mouth. She grabs at it and gets the concept immediately.

With renewed yet frozen energy I push away at the rock, slowly wriggling myself to the side, and suddenly the current catches us and pushes us up the boulder, sliding us above the surface. It holds us here for a few seconds. I look around and try to figure out how far we’ve travelled but it’s impossible to tell.

The shotgun blast rakes stone chips from the boulder into my face. I drop what’s left of the torch as we roll around the edge of the boulder. The current snatches us as another shotgun blast follows us down the river. We’re herded along, gasping for air as we bob up and down, breathing in cold water, cold air, cold rain. I have nothing to hold onto except the wet darkness and Jo. As I fumble against the water, I sense more than see the branches that jut from the bank towards us like spears. They try to stab and skewer as we rush by, try to hold us with wooden fingers for ever beneath the surface. I stay in front of Jo, trying to take the impacts away from her. When a bright orange flare lights up the night sky I genuinely believe help has arrived, but soon realise the glow is inside my head, ignited by the back of my skull cracking into a boulder. When it happens again only a few moments later the flare is grey.

Floating or drowning – I can’t tell the difference now and don’t think it matters. My grip on Jo weakens with each knock I take and I’m so cold I can’t tell if her fingers are still clutching me.

As the water pulls us down for seconds at a time, I drift and so does my perception of time. More boulders, and I slam into them but there’s no pain. I wonder if death will have feeling. The warm pain in my jaw is no longer warm. My eyes close and open but there’s darkness either way. I hardly feel a thing when my cold body comes to rest against a fallen tree. Thick dead branches cradle me above the water as my feet dangle in the current ahead. The tree bridges the width of the river. Jo is trying to claw herself from the water. I lean my face against the tree, scratching it on the bark. I watch as Jo comes towards me. Her arms reach for my arms. I kick at the water while she tries to pull me from it, and when I’m closer I grab handholds of branch and bark and pull myself along as though climbing a sideways ladder. This woman I kidnapped, this woman I’ve nearly killed, is trying to save me. Maybe this is why I love her.