Mountain Rescue by L. M. Somerton

Author:L. M. Somerton [Somerton, L. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Rescue, Crime, Revenge
ISBN: 9781781842676
Amazon: B00C9FTZ5U
Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing
Published: 2013-04-06T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Cal woke up and made the entirely reasonable assumption that he was dead. His second assumption was that hell was real, and that he was in it. He tried to swear but the gag in his mouth prevented him from uttering more than a muffled grunt. It was at that point that he started to think that hell might actually be a preferable option to his current situation—at least it would be warm. He was bone-achingly cold, his thin T-shirt soaked through, his trousers clinging damply to his skin. Every inch of his body ached and he decided not to analyse exactly how much pain he was in. Gingerly he wiggled his fingers, wincing as rough rope ground deep into the flesh of his wrists.

He blanked his mind and focused on one single aim—to free his hands. Just for a moment the impenetrable blackness pushed him towards panic, but he pulled himself back from the brink. Just get free. Don’t give them the satisfaction of giving up.

The thought cut coldly across his mind and he pushed his fingers into the rough shale beneath him, feeling for a sharp edge. Finding a makeshift knife was not a problem—the edges digging into his body testified to the wide choice all around him. Grasping a slim stone in a way that allowed him to saw at the ropes between his wrists proved to be a bigger problem, and it took several frustrating attempts before he could start to gradually fray the ropes.

It took an age to shred the bindings. His fingers were aching and sore, bleeding in several places where the stone had repeatedly caught his skin. He massaged his wrists, restoring the circulation, then rubbed his arms hard, trying to relieve the intense cold. He felt exhausted but knew that he could not risk falling asleep.

It was a massive relief to get the gag out of his mouth. He didn’t bother attempting to undo the knot, just shoved the cloth down until it rested around his neck. He stretched his jaw and tried to moisten his dry mouth and lips, feeling the skin crack and break as he did so. His eyes were aching from their useless straining into the darkness, and for a while he closed them. It was like the opposite of snow blindness—the complete blackness muffling his senses and damping his courage beneath its weight.

Gingerly, he felt the length of his legs until he found the rope knotted around his ankles, then traced its path to the cold metal rail to which it was attached.

“Fucking bastards.”

His despairing words echoed into the silence even as he began to fumble at the knots with aching fingers. His feet were so cold that he could hardly feel them and his hands were not much better. He gave up on the knots and resorted to his stone blade again, sawing at the ropes with careless strokes. He no longer cared about damaging his skin—he just wanted to be free.

After a while he had to stop and rest.

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