Relentless

3

Half an hour drifted by. Baraclough was mildly offended by the rank smell of his own wet clothes. The temperature had risen considerably since dawn; the wind seemed cold but everything was melting around him. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the air but they were thin enough to cause no problem of visibility; he could see one peak, east along the range, that must have been eight or ten miles away. The sky beyond it was dark and wild where the storm had gone, but overhead now little salmon streaks of color showed through where the clouds were thinning and beginning to break up. Baraclough suspected they’d have sunshine before the end of the day.

A brittle thin sheet of ice clung to the shadowed side of a rock near Baraclough’s shoulder. It cracked like a rifle shot and Hanratty almost jumped out of his skin.

“Oh Jesus. I can’t stand any more of this cocksucking waiting. My balls are froze.” Hanratty’s voice sounded unhinged. When Baraclough looked over his shoulder he saw Hanratty starting to get up.

He rolled over, crashed into Hanratty’s knees, knocked Hanratty down.

Hanratty uttered a little cry. Eddie Burt said, “You God damned fool, Jack. Stay off the skyline.”

Baraclough flicked a glance toward the Major and the Major nodded slowly; the Major looked at Hanratty and said with icy contempt, “It was my mistake to trust a civilian. I won’t make it again.”

Hanratty’s eyes were pouched. He looked at the Major and he looked at Baraclough and his head skewed back; he understood the unspoken order that the Major had issued to Baraclough.

Pulsebeat drummed in Baraclough’s temples. His scalp contracted; he felt the familiar anticipatory knot in his groin.

Hanratty turned to stare at the Major. “Look, I didn’t mean-”

Baraclough caught him from behind, clamped a hand around his face. Jerked Hanratty’s head back and chopped his free hand across Hanratty’s throat. The bladed chop to the larynx snapped Hanratty’s hyoid and when Baraclough let him drop to the ground Hanratty was dead.

Baraclough’s breathing was just a little unsteady; his eyes grew heavy and he rolled over in the snow and reached for the field glasses.