Runaway Love (9 page)

Chapter Fourteen

The crisp, cold air took advantage of Genie's immobility.  She felt the icy air eating its way through her clothing and attacking her skin.

“I'll be a block of ice if I don't get a move on,” she stuttered through teeth that sounded like they were sending out Morse Code.

Should she move?  Were wolves attracted to moving targets or still ones?   Moving targets were more likely.

Or was that sharks?  

The thought of sharks stimulated the disturbing question of other predators that might be circling her; sizing her up.  She'd heard something about bears.  No.  Bears are okay.  Bears hibernate in winter.

“Unless those darned wolves woke them up.” 

She squinted and peered into the blackness of the forest.  Nothing appeared to be moving in there.  Maybe they were tensed, ready to pounce, deciding which bit to eat first.  

Genie's hackles hadn't had this much exercise since she saw her first horror movie - something about zombies - when she was thirteen.  She'd sneaked off with Josie, her childhood friend, each telling their parents that they were out playing with the other and, instead, went to the movies.  It had been a dare - each betting the other that they wouldn't be scared. 

They didn't talk about the bet afterwards - or the zombies.

In fact, she couldn't remember them talking at all.

She'd slept with the light on that night.

Now, her hackles were on a different mission.  They were telling her to go back.  It was safe behind Lorenzo's fence. 

Oh yeah - and how safe would Lorenzo be?

Wasn't he another kind of wolf in waiting?

Wolves or no wolves - and whatever else might be lurking about in the forest - she had to
move on.  

She focused attention on her ears to offer up one last intense listen.  

Silence.  

Perhaps the wolves had given up on her. 

On the other hand, they might be silently stalking her.   When the time was right, they'd jump out and bark “Surprise!  Surprise!”

Genie cracked her frozen lips with a smile.  “Nothing like a bit of humour - and whistling - when you're scared,” she said.  She took a deep, shuddering breath.  “Now move, Hamilton.  You can't stay here forever.”

After a final furtive look around, and breathing a tuneless whistle, she pushed her left foot through the snow, then her right - and resumed her trek.

She buried time – and the wolves - under the concentration she needed to keep pushing her legs through the deep snow.  She had no way of knowing how long she had been travelling, but she sensed that time and distance was out of proportion.  Too much time; too little distance.

She muttered a few unladylike curses under her breath at the thieves who stole her watch.  “On the other hand,” she said, dragging in a reluctant positive thought, “Perhaps it's better not to know.  Might depress me.”

She continued her slow progress, stopping frequently to listen for danger - and to catch her breath.  Only when she finally struggled into the pass proper, did she feel she could relax. 

The pass was a gigantic fissure - giving the appearance that someone had chopped a mountain in half with a giant axe.  The walls were mostly vertical and, although Genie made out some snow-blanketed vegetation clinging on precariously here and there, the pass was devoid of trees.  There were no hiding places for predators of any species that chose to hunt her.

“Thank God for that,” she said, studying the entrance to the pass behind her.  “Okay Mr. Wolf - you've missed your chance.  Go find Red Riding Hood instead.  She'll help you out.”

The pass did provide a downside, however. 

The cold felt even more intense, almost as if the proximity of walls to each other created an elongated refrigerator.  Having already nibbled through her layers of clothing, it now forced its way through her skin and muscles, and gnawed at her bones.  Even the heat of her body generated by the enervating toil of pushing her way through the snow couldn't keep it at bay.   

As for her feet...they were stinging fiercely, snow boots and three pairs of socks notwithstanding.  Soon, she knew the cold would turn to moisture and, then...

“Frostbite, gangrene, amputations - my God, I should have stayed in bed.”

Remember the plan, Hamilton.

“Onward!” she said with more bravado than she felt.

Her concentration to force her feet through the snow, for what seemed like hours, was so intense that she almost fell into a mountainous pile of snow.  At first glance, it appeared to reach all the way to the sky. 

Genie took a deep breath and quietly complained at the latest setback.  “How am I going to get past that?”  Was the entire world against her?

Her little Devil sprang into action.  “That's Lorenzo's avalanche.  He was right.  You'll never climb that.  Go back.”

“No way,” Genie said.  “Get lost.”  

Genie cast her mind back to her journey weeks before.  She couldn't remember scaling a mini-mountain like this.  But, then, the blizzard she had to battle through wiped out all senses except the driving passion to seek shelter.  At the time, she wouldn't have known if she was walking uphill, downhill, or on air. 

On closer inspection, the snow-covered hill didn't quite reach the sky.  In fact, it seemed to her to about 15 meters. 

“That's only about eight or nine times taller than me.”

And that incline - it looked almost friendly.

“Piece of cake.”

“What if the climb is too tough and you can't make it?” said her little Devil. “What then?” 

“Oh shut up,” Genie answered.  “If I can't get over it, I'll...I'll...tunnel through it.” 

The idea tickled her.  “Now that would be something.”

The humour of the idea died as suddenly as it sprang into life.  A frown wrinkled her forehead as she stared at the snow on the hill.  “Please let there be something solid under that lot.”

Lifting one foot ready to test the snow mountain, she paused.  “Look at that,” she said, eyeing her leg held straight out in front of her.  “I could have been a ballet dancer; maybe even a Kung Fu fighter.”  She thrust out a large cloud of condensation from her mouth with a short laugh and plonked her foot down on the slope.  It hit something hard just beneath the surface. 

“Can't be rock,” she said.  “Doesn't feel like it.  Perhaps it's ice, or snow pressed together.”

Whatever it was, she could walk on it.

She tried one or two wary steps up the hill. 

It held. 

“It's going to be okay,” she said with relief and started the climb.  

It was tough going.  Dragging herself up the steep slope sucked at her remaining energy with the force of a vacuum cleaner.  She was nearing exhaustion and she had only travelled a few meters.  Only her determination not to give up kept her going. “Switzerland, here I come,” she breathed to accompany every other stamped down foot.

As she neared the top, the going got easier.  The snow was harder under her feet and, before long, she could almost walk on the surface.  

“Snow shoes are for the wussies,” she said. 

To her relief, she saw the crest about two meters away. 

Her excitement took over.  Throwing caution aside, she pushed herself to walk faster. 

It was a mistake. 

Her feet slipped on hardened snow and her body slapped face down on the surface, bruising her chest and punching the air from her lungs.  Almost immediately, she started to slide back down the slope. 

Genie dug her fingers into the snow.  The traction soon ripped apart the fingers of her gloves, shattered her nails and tore at the flesh on her fingertips. Fighting against the pain, she continued to dig at the surface until, finally, her slide halted. 

Afraid to move, she persuaded her screaming fingers to hold on, held her breath and waited.  The palpable silence enveloped her, infiltrating her senses with a feeling of peace and comfort.

A gentle, breeze wafted time away.  Genie had no idea how long she lay there.   Every bone in her body begged her to stay where she was.  Take advantage and rest, they said.  There's plenty of time, they said.

She rolled over onto her back and stared up at the clear sky.  It showed the colourful glow of the sun beginning to show itself for the day.

“Wake up, Hamilton,” she said, releasing a lungful of condensed air that drifted and merged in with the surrounding, low-lying mist.  “One step forward, ten steps back.”  She shook her head.  “Onward and upward, as they say.”

She rolled back onto her stomach and started to rise to her knees.  Her movement was too much.  She began to slip once more.  

“No...No...No..!” 

Her shout taunted her as it echoed back from the steep rock walls on each side.

She dropped flat again and tried to dig in her fingers but the sharp pain from her open wounds refused to let her grip.  The slow slide continued, attended by a shower of light snow and several larger lumps thudding down around her.  She ignored them, concentrating instead on pressing her body hard against the surface. 

It worked. 

Her slide slowed to stop.

Another sizable snowball thumped down close to her head.  Slowly, she twisted her head around to see if she was about to be bombarded with anything else.  Snowballs were acceptable.  Chunks of rock weren't.  Deep shadows hid the detail but, as far as she could make out, the snow had stopped playing games with her.

She examined the snowball that had just landed beside her.  “If that's your idea of an avalanche, Lorenzo Calderone,” she said, “you're going to have to find another word to describe it.”

Enough.  Let's go.   

Shifting her weight carefully, she tried to rise to her knees.  But, as soon as she moved, her body began to slide in earnest. 

“Damn...damn...damn,” she yelled.

The echoes once again screamed her words back to her. 

Falling flat, she grunted against the pain as she dug her fingers through the snow to the solid base beneath. 

An ominous rushing sound above her head and the heavy shadow spreading over her swept aside the pain.  A white cloud fell on her with alarming speed.  It was light at first, like a snowy day in England.  Then a tsunami of snow enveloped her and swept her along in the billowing wave.                 

Chapter Fifteen

Lorenzo threw back his second espresso and cocked an ear in the direction of the stairs.  No Genie so far.  He snuffed a short laugh.  “When did she ever wake up this early?  She'll come down when she's ready.” 

He rinsed out his cup and turned to leave when Domino trotted in and barked at him.

“Va bene, Amico.  I'm coming.”

Domino lumbered ahead of Lorenzo and stood to one side of the door.  He took up a stance that clearly demonstrated he was ready to bolt through as soon as Lorenzo opened it.

“Che successo, Ragazzo,” Lorenzo said.  “You are restless this morning.”  He opened the door.

Domino forced his way through immediately.  Even before Lorenzo had a chance to step out into the open, the St. Bernard was already following a trail only he could detect, nose skimming the ground over the many footprints in the snow created by him and Genie the previous day.  When it appeared to be drawing him to the barn, Lorenzo's curiosity notched up a couple of levels.  “We had intruders, Amico?”

Then, Lorenzo's concern grew when Domino swerved away from the barn and sniffed his way to the gate.  He skidded to a halt in front of it, his paws temporarily losing their grip, looked up and barked,

“Are they still around, Domino?” Lorenzo said, striding out towards the barn.  Everything looked intact.  The doors were firmly closed and, as far as he could see, there were no partially dug holes under the doors or any other part of the barn.

With the ground still frozen hard, he was not surprised.

After making a closer inspection of the barn, satisfied that everything was normal, he joined Domino at the gate and tested it.  It was still secure.  No makeshift tunnels beneath it either.  He peered into the darkness among the trees beyond.  No movement “There's nothing out there, old friend,” he said.  “Whatever's been here has gone.”

Domino scratched at the ground, looked up at Lorenzo and barked twice. “It's okay Amico.  They've gone.” He patted his thigh.  “Come, let's check the fence.” 

It didn't work.  Domino remained at the gate, peering through it and emitting occasional subdued 'woofs'.

“Please yourself.”  Lorenzo set off and made a rapid security round of the fence.  No breaches anywhere.  Whatever predators had tried in the night, their only success it seems, was to disturb Domino.

On his return some fifteen minutes later, he found the St. Bernard still maintaining his vigil at the gate.

“What is wrong, Ragazzo?”  Lorenzo shook his head in exasperation.  He peered through the gate once more.  “There is nothing out there.  If there ever were, they've gone now.”

Domino ignored Lorenzo and snuffled his way from one side of the gate to the other, apparently looking for an opening.

“Come.”  Lorenzo spun around and strode out towards the barn.  “Let's go to work.”