Read Online Cape Wrath by Paul Finch - Free Book Online

fearless, or even because he was particularly good at climbing trees, but because the circumstances wouldn’t allow it. He knew only one thing – that he had to get up alongside Craig in order to discover that the casualty was actually okay, that it looked far worse than it was, maybe even that the Welsh guy was shamming, just playing a sick joke on them.
    But long before he reached the jack-knifed form, he knew this wouldn’t be the case.
    Craig hung in a posture for which humanity had never been intended. As David had said, he’d literally been folded in two. The only explanation was that his backbone had snapped, probably with the impact on the heavy branch.
    Alan finally got alongside his friend, and shinned out towards him. Hurriedly, he reached down and took Craig’s wrist in his fingers. There was no pulse he could detect; the flesh was stone-cold. Alan let the hand drop and peered upwards. There was maybe 20 yards of open air between this tree and the rock-face, and as the rock-face ascended it leaned further and further away. It was difficult to see how Craig could have hit the tree at all in a straightforward fall. But then, one never knew. On such a slope, at such an angle, spaces could be deceptive. One thing was certain: Craig was not shamming.
    â€œShall I go and get the others?” David called up.
    â€œYou … you might as well,” Alan replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
    David hurried off down the slope, leaving him there alone … which was something of a relief. Alan was at last able to hang his head. Tears squeezed out onto his cheeks. It was hardly the manly response to a crisis, but after all the emotional turbulence of the morning, this was the last thing he needed. On top of that, of course, there was shock. He’d never known anyone of his own age who’d died before; only now was the numbing realisation seeping through him that Craig Barker, a buddy since his first week in college, would never again figure in his life; that a few hours ago the cheeky chappie from South Wales had been healthy and perky as a spring-lamb, and that now it was all over and he was gone. They hadn’t even had the chance to say “See you”.
    Several minutes passed as Alan silently wept, at the end of which time he struggled to get it back together. He couldn’t afford to let the others see him like this. In addition, there were things he had to do. Like, somehow, get Craig’s body down to ground level.
    It wasn’t going to be easy, but the problem was solved for him; as he took hold of Craig’s trouser belt and tried to lug him along the branch towards the main trunk, the body dislodged and slid free. It fell heavily but limply, twisting and turning as it plummeted the remaining 30 or so feet to the ground. Alan winced at the sound of the collision, even though he knew that Craig was far past the point of pain.
    It took him another five minutes to get himself down safely, and even then there were one or two hair-raising moments, smaller boughs bending or cracking beneath his boots, his hands occasionally losing their grip on the flaking, silver-gray bark. At long last, however, he touched down, then walked over to where Craig lay. The Welshman had landed on his back again, his arms and legs splayed out, his neck to one side. One of his eyelids had opened slightly, the already-yellowing orb visible below it. The mouth was still twisted in a rictal grimace of pain. There was a horrible rigidity about that final ugly expression – it was like an image carved from wax, rather than a human face.
    Alan gazed helplessly at it for several more minutes. He was still doing so when the others arrived, scrambling up through the trees, David at their forefront. The students gathered around in stunned silence, while Professor Mercy and Clive attended to the body, checking the carotid artery at the side of the exposed throat, planting ears against the narrow,