Under Loch and Key

by Kathryn Cockrill

  Nothing.

  I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, trickling down my face to puddle on the stones beneath me. I closed my eyes, completely exhausted. The forest was alive around me, birds singing from the trees, leaves rustling, so I didn’t hear the small splash from the Loch, my hearing still recovering from Caden’s little toy. But I felt the cold nose nudging my face. I opened my eyes to see Pip, bedraggled but very much alive. He was watching me with wide eyes, his tiny nose wiggling. As soon as I moved, lifting my head off the stones, he exploded in a rush of action, wiggling towards me, letting out a series of excited yelps. I coughed a laugh, some of the Loch water still caught in my throat. Still too tired to do anything, I scanned over him with my eyes. He seemed okay, although there was a small patch of blood on his side. With the amount of blood in the water though, that might not even be his.

  My mind went to the cut on my leg. I couldn’t feel my leg, the water so cold that it had numbed any of the pain, but it hadn’t looked good even underwater. I let myself lay still for a couple more minutes, hoping I wasn’t bleeding out on the stones, but I soon felt my limbs begin to shiver. Heaving myself up into a sitting position, I took deep breaths, trying to dissipate the light-headedness. My limbs didn’t even feel attached to my own body, the same kind of sensation as you get just before pins and needles. I concentrated on moving my right leg round, the one with the cut. I winced as it came into view. The cut was deep and long, the tail having sliced through my jeans and down half my shin. It was still weeping blood, a slow trickle that pooled at the top of my boot.

  This is not good.

  I might have been stating the obvious to myself, but it was that or go into a full meltdown. I had a first aid kit in my bag…

  My bag!

  Pushing myself onto my hands and knees, I began the slow crawl over to the rocks, hoping Caden hadn’t got to my backpack. Pip scurried beside me, his thick fur obviously preventing the cold that was currently sweeping my entire body. When I reached one of the rocks I’d placed my bag between, I scrabbled to get purchase on the smooth surface, hauling myself up. I let all of my weight rest on the rock, leaning over. I could see the handle of my backpack sticking up between the rocks, my face breaking into a relieved smile. There may have also been a few tears but the Loch water still dropping from my hair quickly swallowed them up. Leaning even further over, I stretched out one of my arms and grabbed the handle, tugging until I felt it move itself free of the rocks and slide.

  Sinking down onto the stones at the other side of the rock, I dove into the bag, pulling out everything I could reach. The first aid kit was at the very bottom. I pulled it out with shaking fingers, setting it to one side before I moved everything else back into my backpack, which I placed beside me. I didn’t have anything to stitch it up, but I did have dressings and gauze, enough to see me until I could get to a hospital. I tore away the section of my jeans that had been shredded, then grabbed some antiseptic wipes and the last bit of water from my water bottle. I upended the bottle into the gash, flushing out small pieces of stone that clung to the edges of the wound then ripped open one wipe and pressed it against my leg, gritting my teeth at the wave of pain that followed. After I’d used the first one, I opened the second, folding it over and placing it as far into the wound as I could, biting my lip to hold in the scream. I pulled that one out, bloody, and discarded it with the rest of the rubbish before taking the dressing and placing it over my leg. The gauze ripped open easily in my teeth, fluttering out. I grabbed it before it hit the stones, applying pressure to the dressing with one hand and wrapping the gauze with another. When my leg resembled something out of a Halloween store decoration pile, I tied off the gauze and sat back against the rock. Hopefully that would hold. Pip nudged my hand, and I petted him, running my hands over his side. I couldn’t feel a deep wound so I hoped if there was a cut it would heal fairly quickly.

  Packing the remains of my first aid kit back into my bag, I closed my eyes to consider my next move. I didn’t know how far ahead Caden was. Hopefully enough that he wouldn’t be hanging around when I finally made it to the village. A trip to the hospital was going to delay me by a few hours but it should give Caden enough of a head start that I wasn’t going to run into him. It would happen eventually, but I’d rather have a few hours to recover before the showdown. Even better, he could disappear back into the corporate clutches of GAI and I could get Eli out without ever having to see him again.

  “It might be wishful thinking Pip, but he’s an arsehole and I really don’t want to have to see his face ever again.” I murmured. Pip squeaked in agreement. I mean, I’m assuming it was agreement. I don’t speak otter. I gave myself a few more minutes to recover then scrambled up, wincing as the various injuries made themselves very apparent. I moved my backpack onto my shoulder and began to hobble back towards the trail, my mind already in Germany with Eli.

  Chapter 11

  I glanced down at the new pair of jeans covering the bandage on my leg. There was a small lump in the fabric, though the hospital had done a much better job at bandaging the wound than I had. Walking through the town on my way to the nearest hospital, I’d attracted quite a few stares. It probably hadn’t helped to have Pip trotting along beside me. I’d left him outside when I’d reached the hospital, depositing him behind some bushes with a stern command to sit and stay. He’d plonked his butt on the grass with a disgruntled chitter but remained where he was. Luckily for me the A&E department had been almost empty, the only person before me was a child with a broken arm that he kept proudly announcing to the room.

  I did my best, as I hobbled to see the nurse, to keep any wincing from my face, but as soon as she sat me down and unwound the bandage, I couldn’t help a small squeak. The air hitting the open wound was a lot more painful than I had expected. She asked me how it had happened. I told her I’d fallen whilst hiking and gashed my leg on a sharp rock edge. She gave me a dubious look but didn’t ask anymore questions, instead flushing the wound with some antiseptic much stronger than the wipes I’d had in my first aid kid. I know because I had to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from screaming. Then she stitched me up. I’d never had anything stitched before, and I hope never to have to again; it was not pleasant. I may have also told her I was crying from hay fever. She had the decency not to call me out on that one. When she was done, she wound a bandage around my shin and handed me some cream to apply to the wound, with a concerned look in her eyes. I thanked her, fervently hoping I wouldn’t be back.

  Pip was still sitting outside when I came out; he jumped at me with far too much enthusiasm, attracting concerned glances from a lot of bystanders. Given that my jeans had still been a shredded mess thanks to my DIY surgery, I figured I would need some new jeans before I would be allowed on a plane. And possibly an animal crate. Weirdly, I could find both in the same store in the town centre; an outdoors/pet store. It also had a café. It was pretty busy, so they’d clearly cornered a good market. Inside, I made a beeline for the pet section, very aware that Pip was following me like a dog, but that he looked like a wild animal (which I guess he was). They had a multitude of crates and travel cases, along with blankets and even travel sickness pills for animals. Pip glanced at the crate I picked up with trepidation but didn’t seem to want to leave me to avoid travelling in it. I also grabbed a harness and leash. He really wasn’t happy with that one but eventually, I managed to strap him in, telling the store assistant that he was a special breed of ferret. It’s funny what people will accept when they don’t know what else to say. Before I went to buy some new jeans to cover my whopping great bandage, I picked up a variety of treats. I realised I had no idea what Pip could and would eat and when he had last eaten.

  The clothing section was much the same as any outdoorsy type store. Rows and rows of every waterproof jacket you could ever possibly need (and a lot that you probably didn’t) followed by a single rack of clothing for the rest of your body. The jeans were easy enough to find; there was on
ly one pair in my size, so that made my decision easier. Since I had no idea what was waiting for me in Germany, or how long it would be before I got to another store like this, I dipped into my emergency cash to buy a couple of layers of extra clothing, some socks and a new pair of boots. Then I asked the cashier if I could pay for the clothes and change into them straight away. He glanced down at my missing shin fabric and nodded, pointing me in the direction of the changing room. I could have used a card, but I didn’t know how much it was going to cost to get to Germany.

  As I walked out of the store in my new clothes, with Pip scurrying along next to me, it occurred that maybe I should tell someone I was heading to a different continent. Pulling my phone out from my backpack (I was so glad I’d decided to leave it in there instead of my pocket. I wasn’t sure it would have survived my dip in the Loch.) I sent a quick message to Jake and Becca. I was sure Jake had filled Becca in by now about my impromptu trip to Scotland, and at least if I went missing, they would have a vague idea of where I was. Given that I didn’t even have an exact idea of where I was heading, I couldn’t tell them more than Freiburg. Almost immediately my phone buzzed, texts from the both of them coming in simultaneously.

  Please don’t do anything stupid xxx

  Try not to do anything more stupid than you’ve already done J x

  I grinned; they didn’t know half of the stupid shit I’d done. It was a good thing they didn’t or they’d both be on the next plane up here to detain me. Reassuring them that I was fine, I put my phone back in my pocket and made my way back to my hotel to grab the rest of my stuff and drive back to Inverness airport.

  ***

  Once there, my suspicions that getting to Freiburg wouldn’t be overly straightforward were confirmed. There were no direct flights from Inverness to the nearest airport to Freiburg, which was Frankfurt. As I stood at the help desk, Pip snuffling around in the crate at my feet, I could feel the despair start to set in. Caden had a good 6-hour head start on me, which was great in terms of not running into the guy who’d tried to kill me, but not great for getting to Eli before they decided it wasn’t safe and moved again. All in all, it would take around five hours to get to Frankfurt and another two on a train to Freiburg. That was, until the woman at the helpdesk informed me that Pip wouldn’t be able to travel for at least 24 hours. I stared at her.

  “Why not?” It was never going to be as straightforward as two planes and a train.

  “They need 24 hours notice in the receiving airport, as well as copies of your pet’s passport and recent veterinary certificate of health. You do have those, don’t you?”

  Nope. That would require Pip to actually be a ferret. Any vet would be able to see he isn’t and then we would open up a line of questioning I don’t really want to answer.

  I nodded enthusiastically.

  “I do. I’ve packed them in my suitcase though, so I’ll need to go and find them.” I gave her a toothy grin and moved away from the helpdesk, hoping she couldn’t see the worry come over my face. Sitting down on a row of seats, I lifted Pips crate onto my lap. He snuffled at my hand through the grate.

  “What are we gonna do buddy? I can’t leave you here, but I have to go to Germany.” I chewed my lip as Pip tilted his head, watching me. Could I call Jake? He’d be on the next train up here to take Pip back with him. I looked back at the almond eyes that were studying me through the bars and shook my head. I couldn’t take him from one cage only to hand him off to a strange person in another. I’d just have to find another way to Germany. I started searching alternative routes.

  “Looks like you and me are going on a lot of trains.” Already the thought was exhausting. The journey would take nearly a full day. I scanned over the route and sighed. It was this or leave Pip behind. There was no way I was doing that after he saved my life. I knew what Jake or Becca or even Eli would say, but for the first time in my life, I didn’t care. Adding the train tickets to my basket, I hoped I’d still get to Freiburg in enough time. My first train left from Inverness station in just over two hours. I glanced around, peeking through the throngs of passengers around me, trying to find something that would get me to the station. A shuttle bus sign at the far end of the airport jumped out at me, offering transfers to and from the station. Feeling a little bit of hope come back, I jumped up grabbing my suitcase and Pips case. The sudden movement made a lot of the people walking around me pause; every single one of them immediately looked at Pips case. I wasn’t sure on the restrictions on trains, but I was willing to bet somewhere along the line, I would need to prove that Pip wasn’t a wild animal. Which I couldn’t do. Instead of heading to the shuttle bus, I made my way to a luggage store, finding a large backpack with some vented fabric on the top.

  Perfect for a small otter to hide in.

  Buying it, I locked myself in the disabled toilet, letting Pip out of the crate.

  “Right buddy. We need to keep you hidden. So, what we’re gonna do is put you in here” I held up the backpack which Pip sniffed curiously, “and you’re gonna stay quiet. There’s ventilation, so you’ll be able to breathe, and I’ll sneak you food and drink. Sound good?” Pip chittered, which I took as a yes. Transferring some of my worn clothes from my suitcase to the backpack I made him a bed and hoisted him in. He immediately curled up, blinking up at me as I folded the top of the backpack over and clipped it into place. Then I placed my smaller backpack in my suitcase and hid the animal crate by the door of the toilet. Carefully, I lifted the bag up onto my back, trying not to jostle it too much.

  “You okay in there?” There was an answering squeak. I let out the breath I’d been holding and settled the backpack into the middle of my back. Taking hold of my suitcase handle, I edged my way out of the disabled toilet and back into the airport. The guy holding the shuttle bus sign was still there. I made my way over as smoothly as I could, most of the crowds moving out of the way of my suitcase, which I wheeled in front of me. My leg still ached with every step, but the cream had numbed most of the pain, so I hopefully didn’t look too suspicious as I approached the driver. Within a few minutes I was sat on the shuttle bus, Pip’s backpack held gingerly on my seat as we set off to Inverness station.

  I really hope this works.

  ***

  Inverness – Edinburgh: 3 ½ hours.

  The coach around me was mostly quiet, only one business man tapping away on his laptop about a quarter of the way down. I chose a pair of seats near the doors, mostly hidden from view of the rest of the passengers and shoved my suitcase in the footwell of the seat by the window. Then I carefully removed my backpack and placed it on the seat by the window before sliding into the aisle seat. Pip had barely made a sound since I’d put him into the bag in Inverness airport. I hoped it was because he knew he needed to stay quiet, but a larger-than-I-would-like part of me was freaking out that he hadn’t had enough oxygen, so when I unclipped the top flap to see two bright eyes staring back at me, a weight lifted off my shoulders. Giving him a quick pet, I placed a small tub of water and some food in the bottom of the bag. I could hear him gently lapping at the water, every so often pausing to crunch some of the treats I’d given him. The train pulled away from the station, jolting me forward. I’d forgotten how lethargic trains felt before they got going, the agonising slow build-up. I rested my head back against the seat, keeping one eye on my backpack. I was going to have to sleep more than a couple of hours at some point. I checked my train tickets, noticing an overnight gap in Gare Du Nord. I was sure there would be a hotel near the station somewhere that I could sleep in for a few hours until my next train in the early morning. I was hoping for the sake of my bank account that I wasn’t going to have many more hotels to pay for. I was getting dangerously close to my overdraft. As I retrieved the empty water tub from Pip, it dawned on me that he was going to have to use the bathroom at some point.

  He can hardly go in the train toilet.

  Hopefully, he would be okay until we got to Edinburgh, then I could find somewhere t
o let him out. I shook my head as the idiocy of transporting a genetically modified otter in a backpack really hit home. At the airport I’d been working on a few hours sleep and adrenaline. Now the adrenaline had passed, I was running on fumes and cynicism. I silently cursed myself. If we made it to Freiburg without being caught, it would be a miracle and, given my recent run in with the Loch Ness Monster, I wasn’t having much luck in that department. Pulling out a pen and paper from the front pocket of the backpack, I started figuring out my plan for when I actually got to Freiburg. Positive thinking and all that. Given what I’d seen in the area surrounding Freiburg on the satellite images, and the apparent preference of GAI to build underground labs in forests, I had a lot of ground to cover. I mean, it was the Black Forest. HQ of Brothers Grimm. Famously frightening and incredibly vast. I started noting down possible routes, using Freiburg as a base. There was no way I was bringing Pip with me; he would have to stay in the hotel. The train picked up its pace, the jolting easing into a swaying motion instead. I placed one hand in the backpack, stroking Pip’s soft fur whilst I continued to scour the satellite map for any possible place GAI could be hiding.

  ***

  Edinburgh – London Kings Cross: 4hrs 15 mins

  I looked up from my notebook as the doors opened behind me. A young couple walked in, their hands interlocked even in the narrow alleyway of the train carriage. They didn’t pay me any attention, just walked down to the middle of the coach and slid into a block of 4 seats. I’d been lucky with the journeys so far. In between my train from Inverness and this one I’d had just enough time to dart to an outdoor area of the station and let Pip out to do his business before grabbing some more water and jumping on this train. The carriage I’d picked had been empty when I’d got on, save for a member of the crew who simply smiled at me as I chose a seat. Since then, a few people had trickled in, picking seats far enough away from me that, if I wasn’t so relieved, I would have started to take offense. Pip had been so well-behaved; anyone would think he was actually a domestic pet. The second I’d let him out at Edinburgh station he’d hastily done what he needed to do and darted back over to me, ready to go back in the backpack. It seemed like he’d made himself pretty comfortable. As I glanced in the bag, I could see that most of his body was hidden under one of my jumpers, his nose tucked under his paws as he slept. I didn’t know if it was the motion of the trains or the warmth of the backpack, but he seemed perfectly content. Every so often, I fed him another couple of treats, the bag slowly dwindling. I’d have to find some actual food for him soon. Clipping the lid onto the bag, I wrapped the straps around my arm and let my head fall backwards against the seat. I could feel my eyes closing, getting dangerously close to falling asleep. I set an alarm for half an hour before we arrived in Kings Cross, hoping that the carriage wouldn’t fill up anymore and let my eyes drift closed.