I sat in the rocks, praying that a foot patrol wouldn’t find me. It was the longest day ever. It felt like tens of hours, the minutes going round and round, laughing at me each time. For some reason I ended up singing a song in my head, and it was the worst song ever. “I’ll tell you what I want” by the Spice Girls. It kept repeating over and over in my fucking head. Hannah used to sing it all the time: maybe it was her way of telling me to get up off my fat arse and start moving!
I was full of hope and enthusiasm that evening. My mind was racing over and over. I had no idea what was to come, or what lay ahead. My aim, or mission, was to get over the mountains and into Pakistan. I knew that I’d have a better chance heading further south, so I picked up my wooden stick and set off. I took one step at a time, treading very carefully. I knew that being this close to the border, the patrols would have been stepped up because of my escape. They knew I’d probably head for the border one way or another. I could have made my way towards a major town to find a British or American base, but the chances of getting caught again were very high – plus, what was I to do, just walk up to a check point or camp completely naked? I’d have been shot on sight by some Yankee dude.
It took me a full day to reach the bottom of the mountain. I must have been no more than a mile from the bottom when I reached a poppy field. It was packed with opium. The Yanks had done a good job here alright. I knew that it was a bad time to move but I had no choice. I had run out of water. My mouth was dry, my lips were blistering. I tried to urinate, but nothing came! It was light out and I should now be finding cover for the day, but I needed to move. The ground on which I was standing was open land, which could be seen for miles. I took a deep breath and paced myself across the opium field. My cock had shrivelled up inside my body and I hadn’t noticed, but one of my balls was bleeding. I had a deep gash on the left side. Then at end of the opium field was a small crater, which I had to jump across.
I got down quick! I had seen a farmer walking his cattle: he just popped out of nowhere. I should have seen him coming but my senses weren’t what they had been a few months ago. I was on my belly, and I’d left my stick on the other side of the bank. I was gutted! The farmer was coming closer. I remained still, not moving a muscle, just repeating in my head, “Please go away! Please go away!”
He came closer, and I was in such a shattered state a tear fell from my eye. My body was so weak, I had done so well, and now I couldn’t even defend myself. I was not the man I once was; I was a skeleton. I started to weep into the grass. I couldn’t take it any longer – I had given up on life! I sat up, with my destroyed soul in front of my eyes. I looked up at the sky and prayed to Jesus for the first time in my life. My hands were covered in blood. Then, as I lowered my eyes from the golden sky, I realised the farmer had walked right by without spotting me, and was more than twenty metres away, still screaming at his flock. I promised God there and then that I would definitely be going to church more often in return for his immediate help just given.
I stayed sitting, shaking in the bitter wind now coming across the fields. I did my best to stand up but soon fell back down. I crawled as best I could up the first stage of the mountain. Knowing I was so close gave me hope: without hope, I had nothing. My elbows were cut to bits; the pain was overwhelming. I found myself another wooden stick, not as good as the other, but at least I could stand up.
Taking one step at a time, I spent more time on my arse than upright. With mucus foaming out of my mouth, I needed water urgently. I was in serious bad way. It took me a whole day to reach a thousand feet, and by then I was down on my knees. As I looked up towards the beautiful mountains, a spot of snow floated down from the sky and landed on my nose. I opened my mouth, trying to eat as much as possible, and I lifted up my hands into the sky. The snow started falling heavily. I noticed my sight was becoming badly impaired and I was falling all over the place. I had stars in my right eye. I knew I was in shit-state, physically exhausted. I tried my best to stand up, but I just couldn’t do it. I knew I needed to get into cover, as the snow was getting heavier and I was completely naked. My only element of luck was that I had a small layer of dried mud on my body which cut out a proportion of the frozen ice.
I had to crawl: my body had taken enough. I knew that if I could get into cover, I would get a good night’s sleep, keep out of the snow, and find water in the morning. It was the only option left! I could see a large rock, no more than twenty feet away, looked a good place to lie up for the night. For an hour or so I crawled and stopped, crawled and stopped. The closer I thought I’d got, the further the rock receded. I couldn’t go any further. That was me finished; I’d had enough. I sat up and looked at my hands. They were now black! My feet had turned black too. I cleaned some of the dirt off my arms and ate some of the snow, though it didn’t quench my thirst at all.
The snow fall had picked up, and my feet were frozen solid like blocks of ice. My limbs were stiffening up very quickly: I didn’t have much longer to go; I was definitely on my way down.
I could see a rock up front, no more than twenty metres or so away, and I knew that if I made it I might have a chance to bed down until the drift passed over. As I crawled closer to the rock, though, it got smaller and smaller. By the time I actually sat face to face with it, it was no bigger than my waist. I was devastatingly disappointed and upset.
I pulled myself up and leant against it. I was finished! I felt so angry for failing, but at the same time a sense of pride for escaping the cage. I knew that I had got one over on my captors, and I knew that would have angered them further.
I looked down at my body, which was starting to freeze over. I had four fingers and two thumbs, my chest was cut open and the top of my ear was missing. I had lost more than half of my body weight, and my only chance of escape now would be if Jesus himself came down, picked me up, put me on a plane to London and tucked me up in my bed with Griffer. Yeah, right!
I started laughing, clutching at the snow in my good hand. I thought about my family, and what Fran might be up to right now. I sang a little tune in my head to Hannah, telling her that I would be up to see her very shortly. As I sang, so I wept.
I started closing my eyes, which was a bad idea, and I bloody well knew it too. I slapped myself around the face to wake myself up.
I took one final look around and knew that no-one was coming to rescue me: the Game was over. I had done ok in life, raising a good daughter: my only loss my darling wife. I had done all right compared to some.
I shook my head, nodding in agreement with my own thoughts, and then closed my eyes.
THE END
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