Black Mountain

TWELVE

Kathleen Hunter shivered on the porch and blew a plume of misty breath from her lips. Going to be a cold winter this year, she thought, as she stepped down onto the frosty grass. As she walked around to the side of the house, she could see Jess at the window, up on her back legs, staring down at her. The dog’s big black nose was pressed to the glass, leaving a smear. Kathleen laughed softly; on her back legs and backlit like that, the enormous German shepherd looked like a werewolf.

She shook her head as she approached the woodpile. ‘Been acting peculiar for days now,’ she muttered. ‘More like a mother hen.’ Could dogs get menopausal, she wondered. Might be time to take her to the vet for a check-up.

Kathleen shivered again. She was always a bit spooked by the trees at night — the clouds crossing the moon made them seem to move and sway even without any wind. They alternated between seeming further away than they were, or closer, as they did tonight. Just a trick of the silvery light, but still a little unsettling.

She reached the woodpile, and stopped to sniff and look around. Phew, what is that smell? Something must be dead. No wonder Jess was all stirred up.

In that instant, a booming whoop smashed out of the trees beside her. She dropped the bucket and swung around to the noise — to see one of the largest tree trunks moving towards her. Except it wasn’t a tree, after all.

Kathleen Hunter screamed.

Jess ran from the door to the window and back again. Her hackles were a line of spikes down her back, and flecks of saliva had appeared at the corners of her mouth. The sense of danger was overpowering. A stench leaked in under the door that made her flanks shiver and dredged up a frightful genetic memory from ancestors a million generations back.

As she reached the front of the house again, a booming whooping sound made her freeze. She leaped at the door and grabbed the handle in her jaws and pulled. Nothing happened. She scratched at the doorframe with her claws, dragging long splinters from the heavy wood, then bounded back to the window. As she neared it, she heard a sound that made her heart erupt with fury — the scream of her master.

Jess exploded through the glass without a second thought.

The creature loomed above Kathleen Hunter like a deformed giant, its long crested head blotting out the moon, its stink filling her nostrils. She scrabbled backwards along the dry ground and screamed again, the first name that came to mind: ‘Alex!’ The face of her lost son flashed into her mind and she could almost feel him close by.

There was a sound of smashing glass and Jess came out of the darkness like a hundred-pound tan and gold missile. The dog leaped over Kathleen to strike the giant form. She hung on, sinking her teeth in deep and hard. The whooping changed to a roar that seemed to blast the leaves from the nearby tree branches.

Kathleen knew Jess could never be a match for the massive brute. As she watched, the creature wrapped one hand around the dog’s neck, dragged her free of its putrid-smelling flesh and flung her at the nearest tree as if she weighed nothing. Jess hit hard, bones and cartilage exploding from the impact, before her body shuddered into a heap at its base. Kathleen could see Jess’s eyes were still open, staring at her, but probably sightless. She screamed out in agony — her last friend, gone.

The creature shuffled towards her again, its teeth bared, each one longer than her fingers. Its giant hands flexed as if in anticipation of tearing her small frail body apart.

Kathleen fell silent, her mind turning inwards. Nothing mattered any more.

Alex’s horse thundered along the green tunnel of branches that arched over the narrow track. They burst into a broad clearing and he pulled back on the reins. The powerful animal immediately slowed to a trot and he felt it breathing heavily underneath him. He looked back to see Adira emerge from the tunnel, smiling broadly, obviously enjoying the competition. He grinned back, his mouth forming a quip about her riding prowess, but the breath froze in his chest. A thunderbolt of pain, colour and light crashed down on him, like a physical blow, and he fell backwards from his horse. A face swirled into perspective… the old woman again, the one he’d seen in his dream. Then she’d been on a sunny porch, but now she was wrapped in darkness. She was screaming… he could feel her terror… feel it so strongly it was as though he was right there with her. There was something else there too, a huge presence hiding in the darkness. A large dog flew through the air, and a terrifying booming roar sounded all around them. There was blood and pain and fear.

The woman screamed again, and this time it was a name… Alex. She knew him… and he knew her. His mother. He remembered her now. He remembered lying on a hillside, looking down at her… it was her farm, she lived there with the dog, Jess. Then he saw her as a younger woman, smiling at him, combing his hair… he was a boy… and she was his mother… Kathleen Hunter. And it was his name she was calling now… Alex. He was Alex Hunter.

He tried to reach out to her, but was condemned to be a powerless observer. The huge presence loomed over her. He felt a surge of frustration and anger. He knew he could save her if he could just reach her. He struck out, thumping the ground, mentally trying to break through the glass. The pain intensified. Blood surged from his nose.

Adira leaped from her horse before it had halted and was beside Alex in an instant. His face was contorted in torment and he was holding out an arm, trying to grasp at something only he could see. Adira called his name, softly at first and then more loudly, but he didn’t respond.

Alex raised himself to his hands and knees, head down, and pounded his fist hard into the dirt, again and again. Adira could feel the blows through the soles of her feet. He raked up dirt and small rocks in each hand, then crushed his fists hard into the ground, reducing the stones to dust. He rose to his knees and roared in agony. Adira had only heard that sound in battle, from humans suffering mortal wounds.

She realised he was shouting a woman’s name… Kathleen.

His mother! she thought in horror. What is he remembering?

Alex struck the ground again, as though trying to break through to somewhere below its surface. Blood ran from his nose and she saw that his teeth were gritted. His eyes were open but unfocused. He fell forward onto his hands and shook his head as if to clear it. He was breathing hard.

When he spoke, the words were so soft she couldn’t make them out.

‘What, Alex? What is it?’

His hand shot out and grabbed the front of her shirt, pulling her to face him. His eyes were focused now, and volcanic with fury. He roared in her face and shook her. ‘Why did you lie to me?’

It was the moment she had been dreading: the return of his memories before she was ready — before either of them was ready — to deal with them.

She grabbed his wrist. ‘I never lied.’

Alex’s other hand came up towards her. She doubted he was going to hit her, but her training took over. Almost automatically she brought her free hand around flat to strike him under his chin with enough force to jam his face upwards. He released her shirt and took a step back, but didn’t fall. Instead he came back at her, fast. She needed to slow him down so she could talk to him. She was aware of what he could do if his rage overtook his logic.

She braced herself and struck out twice. The closed fist strikes were part of a Krav Maga combination designed as a fast take-down against the most formidable opponents. Alex took both blows, then swung an arm down to block her next kick. He moved fluidly and Special-Forces-fast.

His mother’s name isn’t the only memory coming back to him, Adira thought with growing trepidation. For the first time in her life, she realised she couldn’t win.

‘Stop, Alex.’

He ignored her and yelled again, ‘Who am I?’ Not one of her punches or kicks landed now; he was in control. His face was furious. ‘You’re no hospital worker. Who are you?’

She backed up, trying to stay out of his reach. ‘Alex, you’re still disorientated, you need to —’

‘I need the truth.’ He moved at a speed that left her flat-footed, and before she realised it he had hold of her again. He brought her face close to his own. ‘I am Alex Hunter. There is no Horowitz. For the last time, who are you?’

She went to strike out again, but knew it was futile. The game was up. She dropped her arms to her sides and went still in his hands. ‘Let me go.’

His jaws worked and his eyes burned into hers, but after a few seconds he pushed her away. She took a few steps back, turning away from him so she could think. The voice of her uncle, the general, came to her mind — sometimes gamblers win.

And now I must gamble, she thought.

She spun back to him. ‘It’s true — you are Alex Hunter, an American soldier. When you were sick, dying, your country abandoned you and we rescued you… I rescued you. We saved your life when everyone else had given up on you. We were close, you and I… you just don’t remember.’

Alex shook his head, frowning. She could tell he was trying to draw more memories from his fragmented mind, to verify what she’d told him, or to find fault with it. She waited.

‘I need to go,’ he said. His eyes had lost their fury now; his gaze was level and emotionless.

‘Back to the hotel?’ She nodded, feeling that perhaps she’d won this round.

He shook his head, and a sudden jolt ran through her. ‘You need to go where, Alex?’

He seemed to think for a moment, then looked directly into her eyes. ‘Home. With you, or through you, and anyone else who tries to get in my way.’

She held his gaze, her mind working furiously. This was her ground-zero moment — if she lost him, she’d lose everything.

‘You’ll never make it without me,’ she said.