Jonathan’s mind was still blank with fear. He was now clinging on with one hand, staring into the bleak mixture of low cloud and the jagged rock face. He still had one question in his mind just sitting there waiting to be answered.
Why was the rope uselessly flailing around his waist lifelessly? Had Hugo cut the line? Maybe he had fallen! Or maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe Hugo had just unhitched the Karabiner to release the strain on his waist. But why hadn’t he called down? He kept reassuring himself that everything was fine! But was it?
He couldn’t be sure until he had reached the summit. He had to make it or the uncertainty alone would kill him. He climbed harder than he ever had before. How he would trade anything to be back on the Folly rather than this icy, freezing, jagged death trap.
He could feel the adrenaline driving him on. His neck was now drenched with his own sweat. It smelt repulsive in the cold blustery northern wind.
Why was this happening? Why me? Jonathan kept asking himself these questions. Then he remembered! Ashworth! This was all happening because of Ashworth. That overweight useless oaf who was sitting in his room right now without a care in the world. Whilst poor Jonathan risking life and limb stranded on a cold wet rockface with his lifespan growing ever shorter.
Now he felt he had to get to the top, go back to Meddington, plough down Ashworths door and plant five knuckles straight into Ashworths chubby little face. But why had he listened to Ashworths stupid accusations? Why didn’t he just let him stroll into the cop’s station and let him make a fool out of himself! Then he remembered, he had listened because he knew they were true! Which brought him back to the slight problem of the crazy murderer on top of the climb looking after Jonathan’s two lines, which if he slipped were the difference between life and death.
He started to climb again more purposely, trying to relieve himself from this deep state of pure fury. With the temperament he was now displaying, he was quite likely to get to the top and push good old murderous Hugo straight off the cliff, that Hugo was quite probably planning to put an end to Jonathan and this whole little fiasco from.
He was nearly there, he stared at the mountain planning his next route. Just one little overhang and then a traverse and he would be there!
He easily passed the overhang, now it was just the traverse, he measured it up, took a small step to his left, crossed his legs over and took the weight on his right. He looked for a worthy hold, and there it was, “Finally, a bit of good luck ”Jonathan thought to himself as he looked skywards and gratefully peered towards the Heavens.
He swung his left foot towards the gap and it slotted perfectly in place and he once again shifted his weight taking up the standard stance. He readied himself knowing anything done slightly imperfectly could end up in him plunging a good 150 feet downwards to a certain death.
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He prepared to swing his foot around towards the traverse when he heard a noise not more than 300 feet away. “Civilisation, surely not!” Jonathan remarked comically then realised that it wasn’t really appropriate in the situation that he was finding himself in!
He could hear it more distinctly now as a siren of some sort. Not the mountain rescue but yes, yes it was definitely a police siren. But why? How, how could they know? Who could have grassed? Then it hit him. That fat oaf Ashworth had finally gone and done something useful! But why now? It didn’t matter he knew he could now take the traverse, hitch himself up and plant his two aching and sweat sodden feet on flat, firm and safe land!
He knew he could do it but what if he stuck his head momentarily too soon and as a last act of revenge he booted Jonathan one and sent him tumbling condemning them both to life sentences. He thought that just to be safe he would call up first.
“Can I come up yet?” Jonathan yelled at the top of his voice,
“I wouldn’t quite yet” Hugo answered in an evil, blood-curdling manner.
He heard the click of the squad car door opening and a stream of mixed emotions flooded through him. A calm voice wavered across the cold misty air and floated straight down the cliff face, “Now lets not do anything irrational Hugo, just place your hands behind your head and ……..”
“Nooooooooooooo”
An ear-piercing scream came floating down the cliff and Jonathan looked up to see an eerily expressionless face shoot past his face. Although Hugo was falling at a colossal rate Jonathan could have sworn he saw straight into Hugo’s deep blue eyes and saw not fear but revenge, revenge being sworn on himself.
He cautiously peered over his shoulder fearing Hugo had decided to come back for one last try to take Jonathan with him. But no! That was just his overactive ‘horror movie’ imagination. There was Hugo still falling, his arms flailing, like a rag doll. He heard the terrible bone crunching arrival of Hugo’s body at the base of the misty valley below.
He now knew the nightmare was over.
Owen Grant Page 03/05/2007
