Recoil

7

Silky stumbled and fell and her face hit the ground. Yang tore past us in blind panic. As I gripped her, blood leaked from her nostrils.

We plunged on, trying to catch up with Yang, who wasn’t stopping for anyone. He was riding his own ghost train.

We skidded on the wet mush, stumbling over rocks and fallen branches, flailing to regain our footing. I tripped and jarred both knees on the edge of a rock. It felt like they were on fire. Rounds pinged off the trees all around us and buried themselves deep in the wood.

Silky pulled me up. My chest heaved as I gulped in oxygen.

I heard long, wild, automatic bursts behind us. Angry shouts echoed through the trees.

We got moving again. Fuck knows where Yang had got to. I didn’t bother checking. It was distance we needed, not the state of play.

We crested the high ground and moved downhill, suddenly free of the nightmare behind. But, sure enough, there was another ahead.

As we scrambled downwards, the rush of water became almost deafening. Silky was struggling.

Then we both had to stop.

Our path was blocked by a red and muddy torrent. Was this the same river that had curved round the high ground, past the mine? Fuck it. Where it came from didn’t matter. Getting across it did.

I tried to find a safe place to cross. I might as well not have bothered. If I’d doubted the strength of the current I only had to look at the chunks of uprooted tree that were surging downstream. Wherever I chose, it was going to be a major drama.

I looked along the riverbank for Yang, but there was no sign of him. We couldn’t wait.

I yanked my vest from my trousers, then untied the bottoms of my OGs. The weight of trapped water in clothing can slow you down – then drown you.

‘Silky, pull your shirt out. Hurry.’

She had collapsed into the foetal position, her arms wrapped round her legs. Blood dribbled from her nose on to her mud-covered cargoes. Just feet away the water crashed angrily against the rocks. She looked at the river, then at me. ‘No, Nick – we won’t make it.’

I wasn’t listening. I’d seen her do laps of Lugano’s lido. As soon as the boys came over the high ground she’d be in this river, with or without me.

I checked along the opposite bank, following the current to my left, trying to work out where we might end up. I could see downstream for about two hundred and fifty metres, then the river bent and disappeared into dead ground. The opposite bank was two or three feet above water level, with plenty of grab – foliage and tree roots exposed by the current as it carved away the red earth. I had to assume the worst: that there was a massive waterfall just after the bend, which meant we had two hundred and fifty metres in which to make our way across.

She stood, her head buried in her hands. She knew as well as I did that this was the only way out of here.

My chest harness came off and went into the river along with the AK and gollock. The weight would kill me and the gollock could cut me or get caught up on shit and drag me down. The sat nav went into my pocket; it was about to get the ultimate troop trial.

I held out my hand and we waded in together. I wasn’t even thinking about any follow-up. There’d be fuck-all I could do about it anyway. Water sluiced over the top of rocks and there was no way of telling how deep it was.

I fought the current until it was up to my waist and Silky’s chest. Then, with my next step, I was into fast-flowing water, tons of it, tearing at my legs, threatening to throw me off balance. I held her tight, whether to support myself or to help her, I didn’t know, but no sooner had I lifted my other leg than the weight of the current whipped it away from under me and we were swept downstream.

Her hand was torn from mine.

We each had to fight our own battle now.

She stared at me, eyes wide with fear. Both of us kicked and thrashed to keep afloat and make some progress towards the opposite bank, but the surge was dragging me under.