‘Move!’ Adam shouted, pushing Roddy and Molly down the corridor and heading after them, Molly leading them frantically through to the kitchen then towards the back door.
Joe roared after them. Adam ducked as a bullet ripped past his head. He reached for a chair and hurled it behind him, saw it smash off Joe’s body as he came through the kitchen doorway, knocking him with a hard thump into a heavy stone worktop then onto the ground.
Adam was out the back door and sprinting across a field of sleeping sheep, Molly and Roddy stumbling and tripping ahead. They ran and ran, losing their footing but blundering on regardless, the sheep around them fluttering in a vague panic. They climbed over fences and ran through snowdrifts until the farmhouse was out of sight. Adam realised he was shaking with the effort as they slowed to a nervous walk.
The snowclouds above had vanished, the whole land bathed in moonlight. They kept walking. Adam glanced back, but saw only sheep. Joe must be coming after them, but where was he? He wouldn’t give up now, no way.
The field they were in was adjacent to a clifftop, and the moonlit sea far below was rippling quicksilver. They reached a large rock and stopped to get their breath back.
‘We can’t go on like this,’ said Roddy, gasping and shaking.
‘I know what you mean,’ said Adam, unable to control his convulsing body. He felt like he might pass out any second. He leaned against the rock as if it was the softest bed in the world.
Molly nodded.
‘We need to confront him,’ she said. ‘Set a trap.’
‘Shit,’ said Adam, feeling dizzy. ‘Really?’
Roddy spat and snorted. ‘She’s right. We need to end this.’
Adam looked at the two of them. ‘Anyone got any ideas?’
Molly nodded. ‘I think so.’ She pushed herself up from the rock. ‘Come on, follow me.’
‘I’m scared to ask,’ said Adam. ‘But where?’
‘Back to the still. There’s stuff there we can use, maybe. Either way, it ends there.’
Molly started walking. Adam looked at Roddy, who just shrugged.
‘Right,’ said Adam, as he and Roddy scurried after her in the powdery snow.
28
They stood at the edge of a high cliff on the protruding headland and looked down. They could see the still below, the watery moonlight giving it a sharp, spectral appearance. Adam noticed a thin wisp of smoke or steam coming from the building and wondered how much fire damage there was.
They’d walked as fast as possible across the snow-crumpled fields and moors of the headlands, a jittery spring in their steps at the thought of what was to come. There was no sign of Joe following behind. Adam didn’t know how this would pan out, but they couldn’t keep running forever, and besides, they had nowhere else to go.
A gunshot cracked the silence. Hitting the ground fast, they shuffled to look behind to where the noise came from.
Far away in the distance a torch beam was flashing on and off.
They lay in silence for a moment.
‘The cunt’s playing with us,’ said Roddy. ‘Like he’s stalking prey. Just letting us know he’s still on our trail.’
He was too far away to have realistically taken a shot at them; it was a warning.
‘What a prick,’ said Adam.
‘Took the words right out of my mouth,’ said Molly, getting up and turning. ‘Come on, let’s get down there and get ready. As ready as we can be, anyway.’
There was a steep path cut into a cleft in the cliff, and they carefully edged their way down it in the ice and snow, wary that one slip could send them tumbling hundreds of feet onto rocks.
Roddy grunted and groaned as they went, stopping often to rest and snort coke, much to the other two’s disgust. They were all sweating from the exertion. Adam was thankful for his umpteen layers of dry clothes, but the freezing air still bit at him, his hands and feet numb. He wondered again what frostbite felt like. He’d seen Arctic explorers on television with blackened stumps at the ends of their wrists and ankles. Jesus wept.
They reached the bottom and scuttled across flat terrain to the barn in a whiteout silence.
Molly carefully pushed the door open. The electric light inside was momentarily blinding after so long in thin moonlight.
As his eyes got accustomed, Adam saw the same scene of carnage they’d left a while ago. One of the stills ripped open, charred metal and wood around it, gallons of spirit pooled on the floor alongside. Grant’s body was burnt-out black, lying in a spread of fire-extinguisher foam. The barbecue smell of cooked meat made Adam gag as he reached to cover his nose and mouth. Across the room, Luke was slumped sideways against the hogshead cask in a circle of dark red.
Adam went over to him and knelt down. One side of his head was caved in, thanks to Joe and the clawhammer, the eye socket raw and bloody, but the rest of his face had the same implacable look he had when he was alive. Adam reached out and touched his cheek, then recoiled at the rubbery feel of the flesh, already cooling, thickening and hardening. It was unbearable. First Ethan, now Luke, it was all so fucking horrific. If he hadn’t dragged them on this ridiculous trip, they’d all be safe back in the Leith tasting rooms now, winding each other up and necking a rare Caol Ila or a fresh new Ardbeg first-fill cask.
The thought of whisky made him turn. The petrol canister that Joe and Grant had been drinking from was on the floor. He opened it and took a sniff. Raw, obviously, but he wiped the rim and took a sip, sloshing it around his mouth. Fuck. They weren’t just making gut-rot here, this stuff was actually drinkable, notes of salty sea breeze and pine nuts amongst coal smoke rather than peat. He’d tasted worse, put it that way. A lot worse.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ said Roddy. ‘Are you tasting those cunts’ moonshine?’
Adam looked guilty as Roddy grabbed the canister and took a big glug.
‘Shit, that’s halfway decent.’
‘I know.’
‘When you boys are quite finished,’ said Molly, at the table now, ‘maybe you could help me look for something useful.’
‘Like what?’
‘How the hell should I know? Something that’ll help us get out of this nightmare. Use your imaginations. I’ve never been hunted down by a maniac before, strangely enough.’
Roddy took another big drink then winced. The colour drained from his face. His shoulder had to be hurting.
Molly raked over the junk on the table. ‘This is all just crap,’ she said. ‘Nothing much we can use here.’
Roddy was resting against the back of a chair, trying to get his energy back, canister in hand.
‘Shouldn’t we have a lookout at the door?’ said Adam.
Roddy shook his head. ‘You saw how far behind he was, we’ve got ages yet.’
‘Just go over and watch out for him, Roddy, eh?’
‘You fucking do it, if it’s such a great idea.’
Adam sighed. He searched round the back of the still and found something.
‘Look.’
He brought out a large, beaten-up toolbox and dumped it on the table. The metal handles were sore against his fingers, but that meant the feeling was coming back into his hands. The heat in here was thawing him again.
He opened the toolbox. It was rammed with all sorts of stuff, wrenches and spanners, a crowbar, screwdrivers and hammers. They started sizing up weapons in their hands as Adam lifted the top section out. Underneath were a handheld power drill and a blowtorch.
‘Now we’re talking,’ said Roddy, lifting the drill out. He pointed it at Adam, pulled the trigger and the room
