Not Far From Aviemore

by Michael Reuel

XI

  Twilight

  ‘He’s back isn’t he?’ Adam asked, sensing the next part of her story.

  ‘He’s found me,’ Becky responded, unable to look up from the ground beneath her feet.

  About them the shadows of the mountains had fallen and the first signs of twilight were showing in the sky above. Adam had listened as Becky had told of the breakdown of her life in America and felt that no more needed to be said.

  ‘I’ve only seen him silhouetted, staring up at my flat window, but he’s back alright,’ Becky continued. ‘First I thought someone might have been following me in a car – bad memories making me paranoid, I thought. So I went into work the next day as usual, but that Friday an attempt was made to enter the flat – either that or an attempt to scare me was made. His delight in the chase might be the only reason I’m still alive.

  ‘Prank phone calls had forewarned me of his presence – that and a freaky looking kite hovering outside my window. I’d already taken the decision not to sleep so I was waiting in the living room when the door handle turned. The thought’s sickening, but barely two inches of door lay between him and me holding a knife. I was too scared to be heard on the phone so I didn’t call the police till the morning, when I did they came round to speak with me but it didn’t go well.’

  ‘They didn’t believe you?’

  ‘They thought it was kids and I was paranoid because of the history I’d revealed to them – there has been some kids causing trouble in the area. They made some calls to the US later in the day and then called to confirm to me that the individual I’d named was declared dead – as if I didn’t already know that already. They told me to call again if anything else happened but I wasn’t going to risk that so I made the attempt for the airport.’

  ‘Do you think he saw you?’

  ‘Yes, he was there; I was sure. But he was in earshot when I booked a ticket for the States, then he left. It was then I took the plane to Aberdeen instead to find you. Here is the only safe place now, London and the US – wherever he believes me to be – is not safe anymore.’

  Becky’s story was over, Adam was about to ask more on certain aspects of Stevens’ character but they discovered they were no longer the only walkers in the vicinity. Just as they neared the bothy, having walked all the way down the Ben Macdui slope and up most of the mercifully shorter climb to a rest their limbs well and truly needed, they saw their now familiar acquaintance Affleck White was also passing that way. In fact, it turned out he had been hoping to find them.

  ‘How are our two scientists?’ he asked, failing to suppress any mirth at the word ‘scientist’ but managing charm in the process.

  ‘Enjoying your fair mountain range, Mr White,’ Becky told him, without a hint of the gloom that had been present for the last hour.

  ‘Wonderfully benign,’ Affleck replied, ‘though Affleck will do, I’m not lord of the manor. You haven’t seen anyone on your travels have you?’

  It turned out that the warden was not actually looking for them but for two local men who had last been seen leaving the Old Bridge Inn speaking of some adventure from which they had not yet returned. No missing persons’ report had been filed as according to Affleck the two youngsters had a habit of such random behaviour, especially after becoming inspired by drink. Enquiring further, Adam found out the two men were part of the group that had been speaking with Affleck in the inn on the afternoon the two had met. The warden was not too concerned as to their well-being, but the boys’ parents were apt to worry and pester for any news of their whereabouts. Such anxieties always seemed to fall upon the warden and Affleck knew that he would end up having to check every cairn and bog sooner or later if they did not do him the courtesy of turning up in due course.

  “It’ll be the one time I choose not to bother going out of my way that someone actually turns up dead,’ he told them. ‘Those two still have some growing up to do, but I daresay they’re alive and making their way to some alehouse.’

  Reporting on the great trek they had made that day, they were able to satisfy Affleck that the two men were located nowhere about the mountain, having sighted no other human being or even footprint since they had left Aviemore that morning.

  This revelation seemed of little concern, but at least Affleck was cheered that he had no need to go hunting for their whereabouts and would have something positive to say to their parents on returning to the village. Treks to faraway bars were not unusual amongst younger Highland drinkers and, with one of the men having taken two weeks off work and the other being unemployed, it seemed clear they had been lured by a whisky trail of some kind.

  Instead of dwelling on the issue, they were able to tell him of all they had seen during their climb and were pleased to have an insight from the mountaineer on the different attributes of Ben Macdui and the views that he loved the most. Affleck told them they were lucky to have such a wide view at that time of year and remarked that the ceiling of Scotland was different every time a climber ventured to one of its peaks. Weather, season and time of day all succeeded in painting their own landscape.

  ‘Aye, you can’t put into words the wonders you see walking these mountains,’ he told them, ‘I was blessed to have been born here; there aren’t any of life’s lessons they don’t teach you.’

  ‘In England we say the same about cricket,’ Adam replied.

  ‘And it was all going so well,’ said Affleck. ‘If there’s one way to put Becky off you, it’s by telling her all about cricket. Though perhaps our two missing persons might benefit from having sport that lasts for five days – keep them out of trouble. Anyway, “ask before you look”, that’s another of life’s lessons and I guess I owe you thanks for saving me from further trekking this evening. You enjoy the bothy and stay safe.’

  With gratitude he bid them farewell, reminding them it was not unusual for mountain walkers who knew of its location to seek out the lodging for the night, especially in the bad weather – although he also told them that forecasters had truly given up on predicting the snow, being somewhat embarrassed by previous results.

  Despite heading back to homely comforts he called up to them before leaving, “If you see those two eejits, mention that I’m out looking for them rather than enjoying a warm log fire and a glass of whisky; Clyde and Jim are their names. So long now.”

  Watching him depart, Adam couldn’t help wish to see the look on the faces of Clyde and Jim when they did run into Affleck eventually; it would have been worth every bit of their barroom tittering to see the thorough bollocking they were no doubt due. Even so, they both sensed that the warden was not really angry at having a reason to drive up the mountain tracks once more. Indeed it might only have been an excuse to check up on them – not that they minded.

  The last touch of sunlight departed the valley as they watched Affleck begin the route back to Aviemore, leaving a pale lilac glow in the sky that hinted at realms an unimaginable distance away. Here and there stars shone forth from the darkest patches, but shreds of mist still lingered to hide most of our milky way, stroking the mountaintops and bidding them to sleep.

  Entering the bothy, they were finally able to rest their limbs which had served them well. There was no reason to feel disappointed in their fitness or stamina, though both knew the inactivity of the night meant they would feel the difficulty of the climb more keenly by the time sunlight returned.

  A fire was lit to warm the interior for the night ahead, although their undertaking meant they had not felt cold since the morning and so there was no sense of urgency upon them. As the day progressed Adam had lost any concerns over bringing Becky to such a lonely place. Their trek made it seem a leisurely overnight stay and the revelations of the day offered him an understanding that being far away from everything she knew was likely the best place to be.

  Accompanying this realisation was a new question that would demand an answer; what was to be done about the threat waiting for her on returning to London? But this was a stone he wou
ld leave unturned until the morrow and trouble her no further. Let her breathe easily from the great weight she had set down at his request; he knew too well the burden of secrets long hidden and saw nothing to gain from troubling her more. Besides, when he did so he wanted his contribution to provide answers rather than debate and had already decided on the course of action he was to take. Here, unlooked for, was an objective missing from his life – not the objective, but one worthy enough to focus the full force of his vengeance upon. Becky had revealed herself as a sister-in-arms against the parasites that feed off the lives we should have led, but more than that she had presented him with a foe that could be found, confronted, challenged and defeated without having to find the means of tearing at the fabrics of a spiritual dimension.

  He would take this matter into his own hands.

  Of course this would mean abandoning his own expedition, but in truth he was no longer even thinking along those lines. His own stalking had become secondary to that which threatened the life of his friend and companion. Expeditions are not to be undertaken when there is an emergency at hand and any subsequent connotations on his own predicament could wait for another day. The Hag may have had designs on his soul, but his own needs paled in comparison to a foe that threatened to take life itself. With every ounce of fury and ruthlessness he could muster, Adam prepared himself for a new day on which he would turn his attentions upon the cloud hanging over Becky’s life (that was his intention, at least, but not the story I am recording).

  As for their evening in the bothy, the memory of their day was too precious to accept any anxieties of the morrow. Turmoil was the concern of people far away and, though seeking rest and solace in a location of eerie fame, their speech was troubled with no conflict or unearthly matters. Lasting tranquillity suffered no curse to intrude under that neighbourless roof and the music of the mountains cloaked their senses to any troubled spirits that howled for the lost wolves of yore. No more than three dimensions were required to savour that day’s sacred gift.

  At last they were able to replenish their appetite fully, having eaten only climbers’ rations throughout the day and realised how hungry they were in the process. The wraps that were freshly prepared that morning had kept surprisingly well, accompanied by mint cake and coffee adding much needed fuel to their systems. In comparison with a meal they might have enjoyed back at the Inn, the food was meagre, but flight from peril can enhance the qualities of the poorest meal and they marvelled that they felt suitably spoiled for the night ahead.

  Quenching thirst and hunger, they became aware of a strong wind beginning to grow outside and found further reason to be glad of their timing. A day that seemed to have been organised on their behalf was drawing to an end, with the environs judging the courtesy given to suffice now they were safe indoors.

  Left unimpeded to rest and recuperate for the night how they saw fit, they were both glad of the remote surroundings where no phones might ring or drunken passers by wake them; there was the risk of a thirty-foot tall spectre drawing near them of course, but this felt like a chance worth taking, with the strength and faith they placed in each other offering a blanket to any primitive fears.

  Although physically tired from the journey, their minds had been unburdened by the distance and they felt as awake as they had for many months. Perhaps even for years considering they had focused so much of their adult life on mind-numbing projects and research. Hard work and achievement were praised throughout both their upbringings, but had they known the completeness they would find without it they would have gone absent without leave more often.

  Despite Becky’s revelations they talked that evening as if they had not a care in the world and much longer into the nightly hours than they realised. At ease with each other, they delighted in their thoughts and imaginations without needing to rely on their employment as a source of shared experience. Adam was not in the least distracted at his failed expedition and had become unconcerned with all matters supernatural, almost as if his encounter with the burning eyes had been filed away as inconsequential.

  Soon he would be faced with turning his attention to a matter that had been the focus of days and weeks of preparation. To the problem posed by someone whom, he felt certain, was a genuine psychopath. Himself not inexperienced of individuals with an obsessive nature and the lengths they might go to, he did not doubt Becky’s interpretation of her ordeals and sensed she could tell more on the extent of his villainies. No further proof did he require and so found it preferable to let her rest from dark memories until the morning. A deeply protective instinct had arisen in him and defeated any fear he might otherwise have felt, itself accompanied by a plethora of untapped latent rage he desired to wield to her advantage. Discipline and patience no longer appealed against the opportunity of letting his fury boil over and spill forth, which he felt altogether more susceptible to. In failing to locate solutions to his own demons he was not prevented from becoming the solution to someone else’s.

  Seeking out such a violent individual without faith in the authorities might not appear like sound thinking to many of us, but to Adam the novelty of a fully manifested foe called to him like destiny from a distant land. He would commit murder and do time, if necessary, to rid his friend of this scourge on her life. Like a predator he would kill on site and live happily with the consequences. The right to judge he did not claim and his views were not particularly right-wing, but the opportunity to remove the curse from Becky’s life decapitated any dilemmas he would usually have faced in making the right call.

  As a new player in the story he envisioned himself taking on a role no one had previously been able, unburdened by the barriers of legal complications and confused identities that had so far rendered the authorities inactive on both sides of the Atlantic. As soon as the idea entered his head it had become a firm course of action: he would murder the bastard as soon as the chance presented itself.

  At his insistence, Becky took the sofa bed for the night and Adam set up his sleeping bag on the floor alongside. They talked more for a while, enjoying what they could see of the night sky; the furthest depths of creation alone permitted to share in their conversation. Neither wished the hours away or desired to hurry the subsequent return to cityscapes that forgot the great canvas. Without permission their fates were destined to play out there, courtesy of mankind’s meddling, but they would take all the respite they could so long as the momentum of the solar system allowed.

  Of one development they were certain, that for better or worse there was to be no more running. From California to Boston; London then Scotland, Becky had been forced to flee; from the sunny beaches of her youth to the remote Highlands in winter… but no more. Back to London they were headed, to peril no doubt, but the sense of finality that had eluded her for so long served to take away much of the tension that usually accompanied thoughts of Stevens.

  Conflict was ahead, of this they were certain, but it was not until they assessed that some sleep would be necessary before Adam decided to break his silence on the subject. The comment was unplanned, but with the stars no longer to be seen he found he did not wish for Becky to close her eyes weighed down by gathering clouds of doom.

  ‘Becky,’ he called up softly and, sensing a different note to his voice, she turned to look at him. For this he was unprepared, for the depths of her eyes in replacing the stars above seemed revealed as more wondrous than the Universe itself. In comparison a billion galaxies were old and faded by time and contortion, a pretender to the wonders of a soul he beheld untouched by the turmoil of its temporary physical life. No wonder evil forces would move to erase such beauty lest it inspire man to ascend and return to splendour at much greater propulsion.

  Recovering himself, he searched for what it was he had wanted to say.

  ‘When we go back to London,’ he told her, ‘you won’t have to worry about that stalker and you won’t have to worry about the police. Whenever – wherever – he shows up, I’ll deal with him. He
won’t lay a finger on you and you won’t be troubled by him again… ever.’

  ‘Adam, he’s…’

  ‘I know what he is,’ he interrupted, knowing she was going to warn him the man was a psychopath, a maniac to be avoided, but he was a maniac too in his own way and not cowed by the fury of a bully, ‘He’s a dead man already, even your government says so.’

  He sensed his sincerity was well communicated, but a fatalistic sadness seemed to grow on her nevertheless and he knew she doubted that a solution would present itself, even if the greatest will in the world were on display. As for Adam, he was not thinking on willpower. Destiny was clearly working against his intent but he knew one thing, that he would die before seeing Becky harmed by any force of evil. So the devil’s apprentices had proven to be foes beyond his reach; he had been drawn to a lesser battle now and recognised the chance to have an impact. The man Stevens might have seemed fearsome from a helpless perspective, but could he break the mould of the bully that cowers from confrontation once the odds are evened? His prey now had a protector that would happily commit murder on her behalf and risk whatever consequence the ass of law decided to shit out.

  These were matters for the morrow, however, as for the time there was still enough of the Highlands in his mind to avoid any sense of foreboding intruding upon their peace.

  ‘Becky, one more thing,’ Adam said, deciding not to leave her with dark thoughts before sleep.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When we were up on the summit, for the first time, I heard the music.’

  Sleep reached them both soon after and they slumbered without visions of terror or any malicious forces descending. The spiritual plain of their union remained powerful enough to withhold any hostility and they slept until the sun was high in the sky, waking rested and revived for whatever great challenges lay ahead.

  From Cairn Gorm and the Lairig Ghru pass they would leave with a sense of attachment and lucidity, trusting its touch would warm them at least until Aviemore, but the expedition was over for they would then be driving to Aberdeen and then onboard a flight to London. Fate might not remain kind to them, but they were determined to remain sightless to such concerns while they still had the Highland scenery to ward off all anxieties.

  A lack of urgency suggested fears ahead did press heavily upon them, but they spoke nothing of it and acted as if the chief source of irritation was the resentment at having to leave the Cairngorms so soon. As with the previous night, the cheap coffee left in the bothy’s cupboards proved more refreshing in the cold and isolation than any inner-city café had ever managed and so it was that, for a while, they missed what had occurred in the night until Adam peeked out of the door to find out what weather they might expect.

  ‘Come,’ he beckoned Becky over, ‘see the Cairngorms at their most magical.’

  Intrigued by his surreptitious smile, Becky stopped packing to find out what there was to behold and, following him outside, found that the weather forecast of several days ago had finally arrived. At last some real snowfall was before them, no longer decorating the mountaintops only but the entire Cairngorms, if not the entire Highlands themselves.

  Soon came the task of descending into that new winter world and they could not help suppose the transformation might impact severely on their headway; or worse, strand them far from homely house. Such concerns were soon dispelled, however, with the snowfall proving of a form that the wind had been able to manipulate to settle thickly in every crack, trough or crevice, but leaving higher ground and footpaths friendly enough to walk on. Moving at their previous pace would not have been possible, but again this proved of little concern and they were soon marvelling at the views about them at a speed that suited the aching limbs they had predicted before giving in to sleep.

  Mankind has not discarded the habit of interpreting beauty as failing and irretrievable and so there is always something heavenly in the ability of snow to repaint the land as free of stain or footfall. They were not yet secure enough in their companionship to presume that an omen of some kind was before them, but they took comfort in their surroundings nevertheless as they set off on a road that was no longer uncertain in threatening danger.

  Indifferent to wishing the day away, Becky insisted they did not amend their plans to take an alternative route eastwards alongside Loch Avon and so back to Aviemore via the route of the Ski Centre. The waterside proved a tempting contrast to the lofty heights of Ben Macdui of the previous day, while they anticipated the sight of holidaying Brits attempting to ski might offer some amusement before the return to civilisation.

  Before leaving behind the sight of the Lairig Ghru pass they reflected on Affleck’s words that the mountains were different every hour of every day. Though greatly aided by the snowfall, the warden’s cliché was no clearer demonstrated than in a view of the Ben Macdui heights that caused them to doubt they had ever dared climb there. Misfortune continued to avoid them, on the other hand, as the loch path made for a sturdy route and, even if it took them all day to navigate, they believed that meagre twilight was required to light the snow beneath their feet and the way back to Aviemore. Avoiding any complications the elements had brought forth, therefore, both their spirits remained high even though they knew their time away from danger to be limited.

  Adam had long since left behind any worries that Becky was less prepared for the distance, even to the point that he believed her time on the treadmill put her in far better shape than he for the task. This proved well for Loch Avon was a greater body of water than the map suggested, though the footpath proved more secure than it appeared from a distance so they were able to negotiate the route without fear of sliding to an icy death. Along the way they marvelled how the loch’s surface did not lap, swish or sway as was to be expected of inland water, but sat as if belonging to a separate dimension. A scar from the ice caps of ages past, nothing broke the Avon surface as if its depths were being permitted to sleep through another age regardless that its time has been and gone.

  Once again there were no other walkers on the route and they couldn’t help wonder if most of the locals would consider them crazy, but as they at last began to leave the sight of the loch behind they saw people in the distance for the first time, gathering for the ski slopes and the first branches of the Glenmore forest reached out to them.

  At last they admitted they would be glad to reach the hotel and enjoy homely warmth and comforts to prepare them for the flight back to England and, after an initial rise in the ground, the way forwards began to slope again and would prove easier for much of the way; the sun did not warm the day too much and so they did not have to contest with melting snow or ice under foot.

  It was late in the afternoon when they turned their heads in order to take in a sight of the Ski Centre and at last they returned to paths that did welcome the occasional other walker, most of whom carried skiing gear with them, several of whom said ‘hello’ upon passing.

  Around this time the snowfall began again, but for the course of their walk it remained slight and did not make the route any more arduous or uncertain. They were able to quicken the pace, in fact, and even expected to reach the hotel before nightfall. Once again they were glad of another wonderful day in the Highlands, despite the cold and effort and, having had a quieter day where they spoke little but took great warmth in each other’s company, they began to talk more leisurely again as if there were not serious matters imminent.

  The attack came without warning. Adam had not been ready and the assailant was armed, taking him out before he was able to realise that the nightmare they had delayed facing had already arrived. The malice of a dead being was upon them, but this one came in physical form and straddled no worlds or gateways, for it was the man known as Stevens, his lust and ferocity at its zenith in beholding a decade-long obsession walking unwittingly towards him. It was a moment he had long dreamt of and all he needed to do was dispatch the unsuspecting male walking beside her. A truncheon to the head would see to
that and present him with the prize he would have waited on for an eternity – the memory of which would now tantalise him for the rest of it.

  ‘An English male and American female found dead in the Highlands’ would be the headline, but Stevens would be long gone before then.