Force of Nature

by Jane Harper

  Alice’s lips moved a fraction. There was a small noise from the back of her throat. Curious, Lauren moved closer. A small noise again. It was almost like a groan, but over the rush of the wind in the trees and the blood in her skull and the ache inside her, Lauren felt sure she knew what Alice was trying to say to her.

  ‘It’s okay.’ Lauren turned. ‘I’m sorry too.’

  She barely remembered getting back to the cabin. Inside, three bodies lay still, breathing gently. Lauren found her own sleeping bag and climbed in. She was shivering, and as she lay down against the floorboards, everything seemed to be spinning. A hard ball pressed painfully in her chest. Not just anger, Lauren thought. Not sadness. Something else.

  Guilt.

  The word rose up, coating her throat like bile. Lauren pushed it straight back down.

  Her eyes were so heavy and she was so tired. She listened out for as long as she could, but there was no sound of Alice creeping in after her. Finally, exhausted, she had to let go. It was only on the cusp of sleep that she realised two things. One: she had forgotten to take the phone, and two: her right wrist was bare. The friendship bracelet her daughter had made for her was gone.

  Chapter 31

  Falk climbed over the guard rail and onto the rocky surface. It was as slippery as ice under his feet. He made the mistake of looking down and felt himself waver, as the rock swayed beneath him. He gripped the rail and tried to focus on the horizon until the sensation passed. It was hard to tell where the land met the air, as the treetops bled into the deepening sky.

  ‘Lauren!’ Falk called, as softly as he could over the roar of the water.

  She flinched at the sound of her name, but didn’t look up. She was wearing only the thin long-sleeved top and trousers she’d had on earlier. No jacket. Her hair was wet from the spray and stuck to her head. Even in the growing dark her face had a blue hue. Falk wondered how long she had been sitting there, freezing and damp. It could have been more than an hour. He was worried she might topple over from sheer exhaustion.

  He looked back towards the trail, unsure what to do. The path was still empty. Lauren was so close to the edge it made him feel dizzy looking at her. He took a deep breath and started to inch his way across the rocks. At least the clouds had cleared for now. In the twilight, the pale sliver of the early rising moon cast a little light.

  ‘Lauren,’ he called again.

  ‘That’s close enough.’

  He stopped and risked glancing down. He could only make out the bottom from the crash of the water. He tried to remember what Chase had said on that first day. A drop of about fifteen metres to the black pool below. What else had Chase said? It wasn’t the fall that killed people, it was the shock and the cold. Lauren was shivering violently already.

  ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘It’s freezing up here. I’m going to throw you my jacket, okay?’

  She didn’t react, then nodded stiffly. He took that as a good sign.

  ‘Here.’ He unzipped his coat and took it off, leaving himself in only a jumper. The spray from the falls immediately clung to the exposed layer and within moments it was damp. He tossed his jacket to Lauren. It was a good throw and landed close. She dragged her gaze away from the water but didn’t move to take it.

  ‘If you’re not going to use it, chuck it back,’ Falk said, his teeth already rattling. Lauren hesitated, then slipped it on. He took that as another good sign. The jacket swamped her tiny frame.

  ‘Alice is really dead?’ Her words were hard to hear over the rushing water.

  ‘She is. I’m sorry.’

  ‘In the morning, when I went back to the path and she was gone, I thought –’ Lauren was still shivering violently, struggling to get the words out. ‘I thought she was the one who was going to make it.’

  Day 4: Sunday Morning

  Bree wasn’t sure what woke her. She peeled open her eyes and was greeted with the cold grey stirrings of early dawn. The light leaking through the cabin windows was faint, and most of the room still wallowed in murky darkness. She could hear the gentle sound of breathing all around her. The others weren’t up yet. Good. She groaned silently and wondered if she could get back to sleep, but the floorboards were hard against her bones and her bladder was aching.

  She rolled onto her side and saw the blood spatter on the floor nearby. Lauren’s, she remembered. She curled her feet up in her sleeping bag in disgust. The fight of the night before came rushing back and this time her groan was out loud. She stuffed a hand over her mouth and lay still. She didn’t want to face the others any sooner than she had to.

  Bree slipped off her sleeping bag cocoon and pulled on her boots and jacket. She crept to the door, wincing as the floor creaked, and stepped out into the frigid morning air. As she pulled the door shut, she felt a footstep in the clearing behind her. She jumped, stifling a scream.

  ‘Shh, don’t bloody wake the others.’ Beth was whispering. ‘It’s only me.’

  ‘God, you scared me. I thought you were still inside.’ Bree made sure the cabin door was closed and stepped away, further into the clearing. ‘What are you doing up so early?’

  ‘Same as you, I guess.’ Beth nodded towards the outhouse.

  ‘Oh. Okay.’

  There was an awkward pause, the ghost of the previous evening still clinging to them like smoke.

  ‘Listen, about last night –’ Beth whispered.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it –’

  ‘I know, but we have to.’ Beth’s voice was firm. ‘Look, I know I’ve caused a lot of trouble for you but I’ll make it right –’

  ‘No. Beth, please. Just leave it.’

  ‘I can’t. It’s gone too far. Alice doesn’t get to threaten you and just get away with it. Not after how hard you’ve worked. She can’t push people around and then be surprised when they push back.’

  ‘Beth –’

  ‘Trust me. You’ve always helped me. All my life. Helping you now is the least I can do.’

  Bree had heard words like these before. Day late, dollar short, she thought, then immediately felt mean. Her sister was trying. To her credit, she always tried. Bree swallowed.

  ‘Okay. Well, thanks. But don’t make things worse.’

  Beth waved a hand towards the bushland with an odd half-smile. ‘Could they get any worse?’

  Bree wasn’t sure who moved first, but then she felt her arms slip around her sister for the first time in years. It was a little awkward, the body that had once been as familiar as her own now felt so different. When they pulled away, Beth was smiling.

  ‘Everything will be all right,’ she said. ‘I promise.’

  Bree watched as her sister turned and slipped back inside the cabin. She could still feel the warmth of Beth’s body against her own.

  She ignored the outhouse – there was no way she was going in there – and instead walked around the side of the cabin. She stopped short as she saw that horrible dog grave. She’d almost forgotten about that. Bree turned her face away and walked straight past it to the back of the cabin, through the long grass towards the trees and the trail until the grave was well out of sight. She was about to undo her trousers when she heard something.

  What was that? A bird? The sound was coming from the trail behind her. It was a tinny noise, artificial and piercing in the still of the morning. Bree held her breath, her ears almost ringing with the effort of listening. That was no bird. Bree recognised that sound. She spun towards it and broke into a run. Up the trail, almost tripping on the uneven surface.

  Alice was sitting on the ground, her legs out in front of her, leaning back against a rock. Strands of blonde hair lifted gently in the breeze, and her eyes were closed. Her head was tilted back a little towards the sky as though she was enjoying a ray of non-existent sunshine. And the pocket of her jeans was ringing.

  Bree fell to her knees.

 
‘Alice, the phone. Quick! The phone’s ringing!’

  She could see it wedged against Alice’s thigh. The screen was smashed but it was glowing. Bree grasped it, her hands shaking so violently it nearly tumbled from her fingers. It rang in her hand, shrill and insistent.

  On the shattered screen, the caller’s name flashed up. Two letters: A.F.

  Bree didn’t know and she didn’t care. With thick fingers she stabbed at the answer button, nearly missing it in her haste. She pressed the phone to her ear.

  ‘Hello? Oh my God, please. Can you hear me?’

  Nothing. Not even static.

  ‘Please.’

  She took it away from her face. The screen was blank. The name had disappeared. The battery was dead.

  Bree shook it, her hands slippery with sweat. Nothing. She pressed the power button, then again, and again. The screen stared back, completely blank.

  ‘No!’

  Her stomach lurched as hope was snatched away like a rug pulled from under her feet. She turned and vomited bile into the bush, tears stinging her eyes, the disappointment crushing her chest. Why hadn’t Alice bloody answered it sooner? There might have been enough power for even one call for help. What was the stupid bitch thinking, leaving it on at all? Wasting the battery.

  It was as Bree turned to ask exactly that, vomit and anger burning in her throat, that she realised Alice was still sitting in the same position, leaning against the rock. She hadn’t moved.

  ‘Alice?’

  There was no response. The relaxed pose of Alice’s limbs now looked floppy and puppet like. Her back was at an awkward angle, too, with her head lolling back. She didn’t look peaceful. She looked vacant.

  ‘Shit. Alice?’

  Bree had thought Alice’s eyes were closed but she could see now that they were a tiny bit open. Little white half-slits stared at the grey sky.

  ‘Can you hear me?’ Bree could barely hear her own voice over the pounding in her head.

  There was no movement and no response. Bree felt light-headed. Like she wanted to sit down next to Alice, perfectly still, and disappear.

  Alice’s half-slitted eyes continued to stare until Bree couldn’t stand it anymore. She stepped sideways so she could no longer see her face. The back of Alice’s head looked a little strange and Bree leaned as close as she dared. There was no blood, but the skin of her skull looked mottled and purple where her blonde hair parted. She stepped back, her eyes on the ground.

  She nearly missed the object wedged between Alice and the base of the rock. It was almost completely hidden by Alice’s lower back. Only the end was visible, circular with a glint of metal. Bree stared at it for what felt like a long time. She didn’t want to touch it, she didn’t want to admit she recognised it, but already she knew she couldn’t leave it.

  At last, Bree made herself crouch and with her fingertips, she grasped hold and pulled out the industrial metal torch. She knew the name would be scratched into the side, but it still took her breath away to see it glinting in the light. Beth.

  It’s gone too far. Alice doesn’t get to threaten you and just get away with it.

  In a single reflex action, Bree pulled her arm back and threw, sending the torch spinning into the bush. It hit something with a thud and disappeared. Bree’s hand tingled. She wiped it on her jeans. Spat into her palm, and wiped it again. Then she looked back at Alice. Still sitting, still silent.

  Two doors swung open in Bree’s mind and with a single shake of her head, she slammed one shut. The woolly feeling was gone now, and her head felt suddenly very clear. She needed to move.

  Bree glanced down the path. It was empty. For now. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there. Had anyone else heard the phone ring? She listened. She couldn’t hear any movement, but the others would be waking soon, if they weren’t up already.

  She did the bag first. That was easier. She checked once more that the phone was dead, then slipped it into a side pocket and grabbed the straps of the backpack. She carried it into the bush, far enough that she couldn’t see the path, and propped it behind a tree. She stood and, for a terrible moment, could not remember which way the trail lay.

  Frozen on the spot, Bree took deep breaths, making herself calm. ‘Don’t panic,’ she whispered. She knew which way she needed to go. She sucked in a final big breath and made herself walk straight, in the direction she had come, through the long grass and the trees, faster and faster, until she could see Alice sitting against the rock.

  She almost stopped short at the sight of the back of her head, the blonde hair lifting in the wind, the awful stillness. Bree’s pulse was beating so fast she thought she might pass out. She forced herself to run the last few steps and, before she could change her mind, had hooked her hands under Alice’s armpits and pulled.

  She walked backwards, dragging Alice deeper into the bush. The wind whirled around her, scattering leaves and debris across the ground in her wake, as though she had never been through there. Bree pulled until her arms ached and her breath burned in her chest and until suddenly she was stumbling and falling.

  Alice – the body – fell one way, flat on her back, her face to the sky. Bree landed heavily against a dead tree stump, her eyes hot with tears and fury. She wondered briefly if she was crying for Alice, but she knew that she wasn’t. Not then, anyway. At that moment, she only had enough tears for herself, and her sister and what they’d somehow become.

  As if her heart wasn’t aching enough, it was only then that Bree registered a stinging sensation in her arm.

  Chapter 32

  Something caught Falk’s eye.

  Far below, at the base of the falls, he saw the flash of a high-vis jacket as someone crept out of the tree line with a familiar gait. Carmen. She positioned herself at the base of the waterfall and Falk saw her head tilt upwards, looking for them. It was too dark to see her face, but after a moment she raised a single arm. I see you. Around her, officers were moving slowly into place, trying not to draw attention to themselves.

  Lauren hadn’t seemed to notice and he was glad. He wanted her attention as far away from the drop as possible. Through the roar of the water, Falk heard footsteps echoing on the wooden bridge. Lauren must have as well because she turned her head towards the sound. Sergeant King came into view, flanked by two other officers. He stayed back, but lifted his radio to his mouth and muttered something Falk couldn’t catch from that distance.

  ‘I don’t want them to come any closer.’ Lauren’s face was wet, but her eyes were dry and her expression was set in a way that made Falk nervous. He thought he’d seen that look before. It was the look of someone who had given up.

  ‘That’s okay,’ Falk said. ‘But they’re not going to keep away all night. They’re going to want to talk to you, and you should let them. If you come away from the edge we can try to sort this out.’

  ‘Alice tried to tell me about the photos of Margot. Maybe if I’d listened, everything would be different.’

  ‘Lauren –’

  ‘What?’ She cut him off. Looked at him. ‘You think you can fix this?’

  ‘We can try. I promise. Please. Just come back to the lodge and talk to us. If you won’t do it for yourself then –’ He wavered, unsure whether it was the right card to play. ‘There’s still your daughter. She needs you.’

  He realised instantly it had been the wrong thing to say. Lauren’s face tightened and she leaned forward, her knuckles bright white where she gripped the ledge.

  ‘Rebecca doesn’t need me. I can’t help her. I’ve tried so hard, her whole life. And, I swear to God, I know I’ve made mistakes but I did the best I could.’ Her head was down as she stared into the abyss. ‘I’ve only made things worse. How could I do that to her? She’s just a girl. Alice was right.’ She leaned forward. ‘It is my fault.’

  Day 4: Sunday Morning

  The first thing Lauren
heard when she opened her eyes was the screaming outside the cabin.

  She felt movement around her, heard someone standing up, then the trample of feet against the floorboards. A bang as the cabin door swung open. She was slow to sit up in her sleeping bag. Her head throbbed and her eyelids were heavy. Alice. The memory of the trail came to her immediately. She looked around. She was the only one in the room.

  With a sense of dread, Lauren stood up and went to the doorway. She looked out and blinked. There was some sort of commotion in the clearing. She tried to work out what she was seeing. Not Alice. Bree.

  Bree was slumped by the remains of last night’s fire, clutching her right arm. Her face was pale.

  ‘Elevate it!’ Beth was shouting, trying to pull her sister’s arm over her head.

  Jill was flipping frantically through a thin leaflet. No-one was looking at Lauren.

  ‘It says we need a splint,’ Jill was saying. ‘Find something to keep it still.’

  ‘What? What kind of thing?’

  ‘I don’t know! How should I know? A stick or something! Anything.’

  ‘We have to go,’ Beth shouted, scooping up a handful of broken twigs. ‘Jill? We have to get her to a doctor right now. Shit, hasn’t anyone done a first aid course?’

  ‘Yes, bloody Alice!’ Jill finally turned to the cabin and saw Lauren in the doorway. ‘Where is she? Wake her up. Tell her we’ve got a snakebite.’

  Lauren had the surreal thought that Jill meant to go and wake her from the path, but instead the woman was pointing at the cabin. As if in a dream, Lauren lurched back inside and looked around. She was still the only one there. Four sleeping bags on the ground. She checked each one. All empty. No Alice. She hadn’t come back.

  There was movement in the doorway and Jill appeared.

  Lauren shook her head. ‘She’s gone.’

  Jill froze, then all at once grabbed her own backpack and sleeping bag from the floor and shook them out.