Ice-Age chapter 2

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ICE-AGE

by Andy Savage

 

 

Chapter 2

 

The terrain was blinding. It was coming up to noon and the sun was

cutting

into Dave's eyes. He used his hands as a shield, and it made his arms

tremble. His head was pounding, his nose and lips were sore and dry. He

didn't know exactly where he was heading, this was all new territory to

him,

and twinges from wounds he hadn't yet discovered were starting to come

alive, but he was driven by the image of Simon's fearful face, so he

urged

himself along. The tracks followed a gentle rise in the land towards the

crest of a small mound about a mile in the distance. Dave's chest was

getting tighter, and breathing the chilly air over his broken tooth was

like

sucking fire. With every laboured tread the pain in his head got worse,

but

he knew if he stopped for a rest, then he'd never be able to summon the

energy to get going again, and that would be the end of him. He believed

he'd probably die from exposure when night came anyway. He didn't want

to

have to think about it.

About halfway to the crest, looking straight ahead, he saw what looked

like

a remote, lone shape seemingly heading his way. It was hard to see

without

sunglasses. Dave squinted and wiped his watery eyes. There definitely

was a

figure. It looked small, and was moving quickly over the ground. Dave's

heart began to hop. It was a young boy, he was sure of it, and the boy

was

rushing directly towards him. A deluge of joy came over Dave and he was

able

to move up a gear into a limping jog, " Simon! " he shouted, " Simon, over

here! " .

As the two got closer to each other Dave's enthusiasm quickly wilted,

and it

became clear the figure was a man, not a boy. Waves of hope seemed to

seep

away through Dave's feet and he came to a standstill. He stared at the

stranger coming his way.

The man was tall and was clad in blue denim. He had long, ginger hair

which

stood out strikingly against the icy background. He effortlessly stole

over

the snow with frightening speed, despite carrying a large rucksack on

his

back, and was soon within speaking distance, when he slowed down, and

looked

more cautious.

The strength sapping agony of his injuries had caught up with Dave. If

this

stranger was hostile, then he knew he was in no position now to put up

any

sort of fight. He wanted to cry. He wanted to cry just like a child.

The man adjusted his black sunglasses which wrapped around his unseen

eyes,

" Are you OK? " he asked, with a curious, difficult to place accent.

Dave ruefully shook his head, and watched with suspicion as the stranger

slowly stepped forward.

He had a long, narrow, menacing face. There was a suggestion of a cruel

grin

on his lips,

" Have you any currency? " he demanded.

" Currency? " said Dave vaguely. He didn't understand what the man meant.

The ginger haired figure slipped his hand inside the thick denim

overcoat

he was wearing and produced a pair of silver framed sunglasses, " Here, "

he

said and handed them to Dave.

Dave remained motionless. He was too terrified to move.

" Take them, " said the man, " I'm giving them to you. " He placed them in

Dave's hands.

Dave put them on and tried to say thanks but began coughing. The coughs

were

violent and he spat out some blood onto his boots.

" You're in a bad way, mate, " said the stranger, " You shouldn't be out

here. "

" They took my son, " said Dave, his voice quaking, " I have to get him

back. "

The man put a hard, firm hand around Dave's scrawny arm, " Try not to

speak.

You need to heal. My camp is nearby. I'll take you there. I'll help you

there. I promise I won't hurt you. Come on, we have to go now. "

Dave didn't want to go, but his arm was being held so tightly. Sweat

began

to roll down his face and he felt anaemic and dizzy. Before he knew it

he

was being pulled along fast in the opposite direction to the tracks he

had

been following, " No, " pleaded Dave, " This is the wrong way, " but the

stranger took no notice, and Dave was too weak to struggle.

The journey to the camp was painful and difficult, and seemed to last

forever. Dave kept drifting in and out of consciousness and lost his

sense

of time and temperature. After a while, although he could feel himself

moving, he wasn't sure if he was walking or being carried. He couldn't

tell

how far or in what direction he was going. Dave feared he might pass

out any

moment and he fought against it. Nothing seemed real. His body was as

light

as the air. He thought it was night time, and wondered where the day had

gone. He wasn't sure if he was dreaming; he was hot and wet; he couldn't

hear anything, he couldn't see anything, and then his head dropped

forward.