Chapter 33
‘Morlich, come in? Morlich? We lost you there, pal. Over.’
It was Jemmy’s crackling voice over the radio receiver which lay probably only a few feet from where Finlay lay on the hard ground. The radio may as well have been a hundred miles away for all Finlay could move to go feeling for it in the fog.
‘We tried your mobile and you’ve lost signal on that too. Over.’
His phone? That must be another thing thrown from his hands as he fell.
Finlay raised a shaky hand to his shoulder, gingerly feeling the horrible mass where he knew his arm was out of its socket and he whispered some curse words that would have made Mrs Morlich spin in her grave, God rest her.
He managed to unzip his jacket and reach into his fleece’s inside pocket, wondering if he could locate his compass. Then he remembered, he’d had that in his hands as well. It was gone now too, and somehow that was worse than being out of reach of his phone or the radio.
He touched his head where his hat had somehow been taken off. A bit of blood, superficial, so nothing to worry about, but there was a spongy, swollen lump at the back of his skull. That was a little more worrying.
How long had he been out cold? His clothes were covered in a frosty white glitter, though he couldn’t see all the way down to his feet, the fog was so thick.
A horrible thought occurred to him. He hadn’t told the station that the lost man he’d been in search of was Murray McIntyre.
Was it possible Murray might somehow have made it down by himself?
He was certain Murray wouldn’t abandon that dog on the mountain.
Could he have got himself into the same mess as Finlay now found himself in?
Murray’s life was a great deal more significant than his own, so his rescue should be prioritised.
Not that anyone was out looking for Finlay.
That lot down at the shed, the McIntyres, he thought, were utterly devoted to their son.
He’d witnessed it with his own eyes just yesterday, in their kitchen with all the dogs and the warmth from the Aga.
The memory made him wince in pain, setting off a dreadful piercing sensation in his mangled shoulder.
He should be thinking of saving himself.
He should be crawling all over this area to locate the radio, and his backpack with his sweets in, but his body was as heavy as the granite bed he was sprawled out on.
He pictured how he must look from way up above, through white cloud: spreadeagled, twisted, over-glittered with sparkling frost.
He had absolutely no notion where on the slope he could be, only that he was somewhere between the snow line above and the dense green line of what mountaineers called the ffridd below.
The air was so thick with glaring white moisture it dampened all scent, so he couldn’t even, like the stag, sniff out what vegetation he was near.
In better visibility he’d be able to detect the patches of squat conifers and scrubby yew. He’d know if he lay amongst the broadleaf plants that had evolved over millennia to survive up here on the margins between the human world and the heavens. But he didn’t have a clue.
He knew one thing, however. If indeed he was going to die of exposure and respiratory or pulmonary difficulties brought about by inhaling what were essentially ice crystals, Finlay was glad it was going to happen out here, surrounded by the plants, rocks and trees he felt himself bound to like brothers.
He calculated that, having taken in absolutely nothing since his morning coffee and sweet treats, it would likely take less than five, maybe six hours before he’d fall into a hypothermic sleep and then he’d know nothing after that.
His body vibrated with shivers he couldn’t control.
Bloom, his mother had written. He was supposed to bloom and live a long life on earth, and yet here he was, willingly giving himself to the cold ground. While he still had air in his lungs he should at least try to shout, but when he opened his mouth, he found only one word would do.
‘Murray!’
The pain in his shoulder bit hard with the effort, and the white blanket over the range absorbed the sound as soon as it formed, yet he called on, into the fog.
‘Murray! I’m here!’