Chapter 51
Even William is a little more cautious as he pushes off with his poles and heads down into the ravine.
Olivia takes care to keep the distance between them as short as possible; if she can stay close, it reduces the risk of losing sight of him or, even worse, crashing straight into a rock or crevasse with no warning.
It has taken them quite a while to get here, and it is becoming harder to see in the growing darkness. It is hard work keeping up with William; as usual he is going much faster than her. She is doing her best to follow his tracks, but she soon becomes disorientated.
William is no more than a dark shadow up ahead.
And then he is gone.
Olivia stares after him so intensely that her eyes fill with tears.
She has lilac lenses in her goggles—that’s supposed to be the best for seeing in fog—but the visibility is still dire.
The tinted glass obliterates all height differences, and destroys any chance of grasping the topography in advance.
The truth is that she is skiing on pure instinct, keeping her knees as flexible as possible in order to deal with any changes of level.
Her attention is focused on the route in front of her, and she doesn’t realize that she is too close to a low mountain birch.
Suddenly she feels a hard blow to her face, like the lash of a whip.
Luckily she manages to bend the rest of her body out of the way just in time, and glides past the tree by a hair’s breadth without colliding with the trunk.
She can taste blood at the corner of her mouth.
Olivia clamps her lips together. This is her own fault; she was the one who suggested this route. It is too late to change her mind now.
She has never been so afraid. All at once she knows she can’t go on; she stops and drives her poles deep into the ground. She has to find a way to orient herself, regain control.
She leans forward, breathing heavily inside her scarf, which by this time is both cold and damp. The route they came down is no longer visible. It is hidden behind an impenetrable layer of thick, white fog.
How far can it be to Fj?llg?rdsexpressen, where the ravine ends?
Eight hundred yards? Nine?
It’s not far; it must be achievable.
Olivia tries to think clearly. Maybe she could put her skis over her shoulder and walk the last section? Although then she would sink so far down in the snow that she would probably get stuck.
Her goggles have steamed up. Now she can see even less.
“Pull yourself together,” Olivia whispers to herself. “You can do this.”
Staying put is not an option. It will be pitch dark before long, and then she will be in real danger. But she is reluctant to go on, with all the rocks and sharp outcrops lying in wait. If she runs into one of them, or gets stuck in a drift, she risks not being able to free herself.
If no one comes to help her.
She isn’t sure that either Amir or Pontus would do that.
And William has abandoned her. Presumably he has already reached the lift, without worrying about what has happened to Olivia.
Fucking William.
With anger surging through her veins, she glides forward about ten yards. Takes off her goggles, thinks she has reached the point where the ravine forks and the Susab?cken stream appears in the center.
The middle looks like a smooth surface, free from trees and undergrowth, but she knows that the snow cover can be treacherous.
The stream should have frozen by now, but sometimes the water continues to flow beneath the insulating layer of snow.
A skier can easily fall through if the load-bearing capacity is too low.
If she opts for that route, it could give way with no warning.
Olivia has heard of several accidents where people have underestimated the power of the water course. It is a surefire way of breaking both your legs and your skis.
It is safer to choose one of the sides.
But which one?
She can’t remember whether they usually take the left or the right.
Her body’s exhaustion is making her brain shut down, she can’t remember even though she has skied there many times.
A swishing sound catches her attention. A diffuse figure, she thinks it’s Amir, passes by a few yards away and disappears toward the right side.
Should she follow him, or wait a while longer?
Pontus ought to show up soon; he’s slower. Maybe it would be safer to follow him? He would probably be more likely to stop if she falls and shouts for help.
Olivia clutches her poles tightly as she waits for Pontus. She hopes he hasn’t already passed by without her seeing him. That would mean she is the only one left out here.
All alone as darkness falls.