(no subject)
At 28198 words I am currently behind. Boo! But I resolve to catch up!
I certainly did. I woke slowly as the sun broke through the windows. I groaned as I stretched and smiled, rolling over and finding myself enclosed in the thick duvet. The fire had died down long ago by the looks of things, but the room was still pleasantly warm. I sighed and snuggled down against the pillows, dozing gently for a little while before the need to urinate forced me out of bed with a small grumbling groan. I made my way to the bathroom and relieved myself before washing up in the cool water of the shower. I had enough food left over to stoke the fire back into life and make a light breakfast too, which was enjoyable. While it cooked I headed out onto the balcony and looked around. In the light I could see just how lovely this place was. There was nothing but trees and hills for miles, save for a small loch. I marked the location on the map as I made the bed back up. It was probably a pointless task, but it was nice to do something normal for once. Something I would have done before life changed. And you could never tell when another traveller might decide to spend a night here. Then, with breakfast eaten and the key to the room replaced behind the desk, I took a couple of items with me (mostly from the bar I shall admit) and went to wake up Ford. He was waiting for me patiently when I got to the stables, having let himself out of the stall and raided the hay. I saddled him up and led him out, giving him a moment to stretch his legs and take a long drink out of a stream before I mounted him and double checked the map. Once more we headed into unknown together.
By late morning there was no sign of the hotel behind us, as trees closed around us. I nudged Ford down the shaded road we now followed. Green leaves formed a canopy above us, the branches almost meeting and making an emerald tunnel. It was quiet here, oddly so. I could barely hear the sound of birds singing. It was like being in a whole other world, as if this place was not the land I had once known at all but some strange parallel universe. Ford’s hooves almost seemed to echo a little against the road. I hit a fork and pulled him to a stop in order to reach for the map. I looked up and noticed a faded sign almost obscured by the trees. I could almost make out the words beneath a covering of moss. I could make out the word Haven beneath the greenery. I looked over at the left hand branch of the road, noticing a fence and a gate, rusted open. That had my curiosity and I folded the map away and put it back into my pocket. I pulled on the reins and headed down that discreet path to learn what lay at the end of it. A farm perhaps, or another hotel? Either would be welcome as a place to rest for a while. I passed through a long, wooded lane and barely noticed the small building near the gate. It was already in ruins. Either nature had a good foothold here or something had destroyed it. It looked like it had once been some form of office building at some point. The function was baffling though, as any papers left from its original use had been torn away or faded by the sun and the rain.
It didn’t take long for me to work out what this place had once been as the wooded lane abruptly ended and widened into an artificial clearing. Several small roads branched outwards forming avenues of a sort. There was a large building with the words ‘S-RT- COM-L-‘ on it that looked like it might have a pool inside as well as a small gymnasium. There was a building that might have once been a gaming arcade and a bar in one. A small shop lay bare, the door swinging on a hinge. Most revealingly there were rows and rows of static caravans lining the tiny avenues. The large caravans that never went anywhere because they needed a truck to pull them. This place had once been a holiday camp and now it was quite clearly no more than a trailer park. And it was inhabited by the looks of things. Refuse littered the area and patches that had once been green grass were now yellowed or mud and dirt. The trailers themselves were grimy and had a lived in look. I could see a large dog chained to the legs of one, asleep in the shade beneath the caravan’s body. Ford pulled to a halt of his own accord as I looked around, wrinkling my nose at both an acrid smell and the signs of human poverty I had forgotten about. Empty beer cans and vodka bottles littered the ground next to cigarette butts. Somewhere I could hear the wail of an upset baby and from the far end of the camp I thought I could hear raised voices arguing. Crude graffiti was daubed on some of the caravans. I was vaguely reminded of chav culture, though that had all but died out inside the Dead Zone. And this all seemed like a stereotype of the worst kinds of chavs.
I looked up, conscious of being watched, and my eyes met those of a young girl. I would have guessed her to be roughly fourteen, though it was hard to tell. Her hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail and thick makeup lined her eyes and lips. Large golden hoops hung from her ears. Her clothing was all branded stuff, though it was stained and torn after so long. The Playboy t-shirt she wore was stretched tightly over her swollen breasts and even more swollen belly. She stared at me with wide eyes, clearly surprised by my presence. Movement in one of the caravans caught the corner of my eye and I instinctively turned to look at the window. A pale face stared at me with a similar expression though this one was without make-up. Her eyes were red ringed and sunken and her hair was a bird’s nest. It looked as if she wasn’t doing too well. Her eyes darted around fearfully and she mouthed a single word to me silently through the Plexiglas window.
“Run!”
The sound of dogs barking made all three of us look up towards the source. The frightened face in the caravan shrank away from the window and the girl turned tail and fled back to wherever she had come from. Ford snorted and backed up a little uncomfortably. He certainly didn’t like something, probably the scent on the wind. The barking came closer, as did the raised voices. I could make them out clearer now. It sounded like two men and a woman, possibly more. I pulled Ford back, intending to double back and take the other fork. I got the feeling I didn’t want to be in that place any longer than I had to be. Just as I turned the pair of us around a young man stumbled out of the ruined offices, falling over his own feet. He was followed by another of similar age who laughed and gave his companion a sharp kick in the shin.
“Fucking tosspot!” the second youth taunted. Both suddenly looked up and caught sight of me.
“Who the fuck is this bitch?” the first youth asked groggily. Both of them wore ragged old football shirts for the same team. I couldn’t remember which team they belonged to, but it was one of the premier league teams. The second shrugged and smiled, showing off blank spaces where teeth were missing.
“Dunno Gaz, but I got dibs.” He cackled before rushing towards me and grabbing at my ankles. I panicked and kicked at him as he dragged at me with surprising strength, all the while swearing and muttering obscenities at me. With a rough thud and a tumble I hit the ground sharply as I lost my hold on the saddle. The impact made me wince. I was dazed and barely noticed as He took hold of my leg with both hands and began dragging me across the gravel path back towards the ruined offices. It left a rash on my cheek before I was able to turn myself over. I was conscious of a sudden thud of noise and rush of air which heralded my leg being released. I looked up to find Ford standing over me and the man that had been dragging me on the ground, reeling in pain from having been hit by a tonne of muscle and fur going at an angry gallop.
The other man looked stunned, his eyes darting from the man on the floor to me and then to Ford in quick succession. The noise had drawn some attention as various faces peered out of windows and doors opened. I had to get back on, we had to escape from here. Ford waited patiently, his hoof digging a furrow in the ground as I reached up and used the saddle to pull myself shakily to my feet once more. I was still a little dizzy and I guessed I had hit my head hard when I had fallen. Even so, I was lucid enough to know I had to run away. I pulled myself weakly up onto the saddle as the group of arguers came around the corner, drawn by the shouted complaints of the man on the floor. I almost fell again as the other youth rushed to grab my leg like the first one had. I clung tight and Ford swung around roughly, knocking the lad off his feet. The group stopped fighting amongst themselves and rushed towards me. I closed my eyes and wound my fingers in Ford’s mane. The man that had originally pulled me off from his back had gotten up and now a heavy looking metal pipe was in his hands. I didn’t want to look. I heard Ford snort and whinny as he wheeled around, his large hooves flattering on the tarmac and gravel beneath him. There were shouts, angry and loud and seemingly all around. The racket was enough to wake the rest of the camp up and I could hear voices raising and doors being flung open. We were swiftly surrounded. Suddenly Ford bolted with me on his back, gripping tightly to stay mounted as well as to try and stave off the grabbing hands that reached for me.
I opened my eyes and looked ahead as we ran through the camp, terrified but unable to stop watching as trailers and buildings flew by. We were fortunate that the further we got from the entrance the less idea anyone had about what was going on. A few, surprised, leapt out of Ford’s way. Some of them, on the other hand, lunged to try and grab at me and pull me off the horse. Looking around I could see more signs of abject poverty and, to my horror, signs of horrific abuse were everywhere. There were very few females outside of the caravans and the children were in a filthy state. I stared at one that Ford slowed down to avoid. He (or her, it was impossible to tell for sure) looked up at me with wide eyes. All the child wore was an oversized t-shirt and nothing else. His (or her) skin was caked in dirt and his (or her) hair was raggedly hacked short. Each limb was bruised, but it was more than the bruises of a clumsy child. I didn’t have time to study more, nor wonder what bruises lay beneath the shirt as Ford raced past. In the windows I could see pale, tired faces watching me race by. Dark eyes in sunken faces. Ford took a sharp turn, his hooves almost sliding over the gravel as he changed direction. I put all of my trust in his abilities. I was winded as he leapt over a hastily thrown together sort of roadblock that proved to be ineffective. He ran as hard as he could, as hard as I could ever remember him running. There was a loud noise that I recognised somewhere in the back of my mind as a rifle of some kind and for an instant Ford faltered before picking up the pace once more. He swerved once again to avoid a group of men who were stretched across the road to try and slow us down or catch us. One of them swung something at me and I cried out as a sharp pain shocked my system. I didn’t look down at my leg despite how much it ached.
Suddenly another turn brought us out into a wide clearing. Perhaps it had once been some kind of sport pitch, or a picnic ground. It looked like it was once quite a pretty place, with a stone bridge crossing a gentle river running down the side. Probably people had fished there, until the new owners moved in. Now it was littered with refuse and uncared for. I was wary that there may be dangers in there for Ford to step on but he seemed to navigate it without trouble. There was a burnt out car shell nearby that looked like it was routinely set on fire. I turned to look behind us and saw a large group of people on our tail. But once Ford was out in the open like this they simply couldn’t keep up. The hard part would now be getting back to the road and finding our bearings without them ambushing us. It would be too easy to get turned around, especially as he leapt a hedge and raced into the woods that surrounded the campsite. I caught a flash of bright paint on the bridge before it flew out of view that read simply: Schaffs.
I had no idea what that meant nor did I care. Both Ford and I were preoccupied with staying alive. I could hear him snorting as he pulled in huge lungfuls of air. Had I known he could run so hard and so fast for so long I might have considered entering him in races. He darted left and right, avoiding the trees skilfully. The signs of the occupation were even out here as I saw trees hacked into seemingly randomly and beer cans littering the ground. As well as various other things. Looking down I saw my jeans stained red. Whatever I had been hit with had gashed through the material easily and into my leg. And it stung terribly. I couldn’t worry about it now though. I concentrated on holding tight and helping to guide Ford through the woods. Suddenly we broke through the tree line and onto a narrow country lane. I looked back, figuring it went all the way back to the camp we had just escaped. But I could see no one on the road, unless they were just around the bend and shielded by the trees. I wasn’t going to take any chances anyway and I was more than happy to let Ford go flat out now that he had a decent, mostly clear road to race down. It was a long time and many miles before he began to slow. I gave him a reassuring pat on the neck and looked back. The camp was a long way away now and there had been no sign of its inhabitants for a very long time. I had seen no sign of horses there and I doubted they would know what to do with one anyway. There was no chance they could catch up to us within the next half hour and so I decided we could probably afford to stop and recover a little. My leg ached and so did my head where I had fallen. I was also becoming increasingly aware of the bruises and scrapes I had received. I had no idea if Ford had been injured at all, but he wasn’t lame at least, just tired. I nudged him in the direction of a hill. From the top of it we’d have an excellent view of the road and it would be very difficult for anyone to sneak up on us.
I dismounted a little rougher than I meant to and winced a little as the weight on my leg made it burn. I scanned the parts of Ford I could see as I limped a slow circle around him. His large head turned so that he could watch me with his dark brown eyes. The only injury I could find on him was a thin scrape on his hip. I guessed he had been very lucky, that a bullet from the rifle had only just grazed him. It looked like it had bled a little but was already sealed. All the same I erred on the side of caution and dug my first aid kit out of the saddlebags. I carefully applied an antiseptic to the small wound before letting him go about the serious business of resting for a while. I slipped the bags from him and set them down at the base of a tree. He wandered off to graze a little and to sip cool water from a small brook that babbled down the hillside from a taller mountain above. I turned my attention to myself. I did my best to ignore the aching in my head, preferring not to take painkillers if I could avoid it. They were rare things after all. My finger slipped easily between the edges of the denim as I inspected the gash in my jeans. I did have a needle and thread but that was not a priority at all. Instead I gingerly tried to get a look at the source of all the blood that stained the fabric as well as my skin in almost alarming amounts. It was a few inches long, though I couldn’t tell how deep it was until I could clean it up a bit better. I looked around (though as I expected there wasn’t a soul for miles) before pushing the torn trousers down over my hips and past my knees, just enough to expose my thigh where the gash was. I guessed it had been some kind of blade. The cut was nice and clean. My usually pale white thigh was stained red and pink, the marks going down lower than my knee. No wonder I didn’t feel great, aside from the bump to the head I’d taken. I cut a small strip of gauze and hobbled over to the stream, most likely looking utterly ridiculous. Ford raised his head, dripping water upstream from me and looking vaguely curious about the injury. I had to pat his nose away from the cut at one point when he decided to have a sniff. The gauze soaked up the stream water easily and I was able to use it to carefully sponge away the worst of the mess. The cold water made me gasp and grimace as it chilled and stung. But soon I could actually see what I was dealing with and I frowned. Ideally, I suspected, this would be a case for stitches. I didn’t really have the tools or the knowledge for that. What I did have was butterfly stitches and plenty of bandages. I would have to make do.
Once I had carefully applied enough adhesive strips to be sure that the edges of the wound would hopefully remain mostly closed I bound my thigh tightly with gauze and a bandage. I had managed to rinse out the worst of the stain from my jeans and had left them in the warm sun to dry while I worked on the wound and then had a bite to eat. There was still a tint of rust colour around the tear that I suspected I may never fully get out. At least they were pretty much dry by the time my leg was wrapped and I was able to cautiously pull them back on. I had examined other aching areas and had extracted a remarkable amount of gravel from my hand and arm. Regrettably I had lost my wide brimmed hat at some point and there was no way I was going back to look for it. The bastards could keep it. The mail, fortunately, was safe and sound. I pulled myself back up into the saddle and Ford took the cue to continue onward. No one had pursued us and that was encouraging. I was able to let Ford go at his own pace once again, confident that even if they were tracking us we had a sizable lead and would be at the safety of the village before they could catch up. More likely they would get bored before ever getting that far. Not that I was any less jumpy for a while, constantly checking over my shoulder and always seeing an expanse of empty countryside. After a while even the woods that had hosted the campsite weren’t even a speck on the horizon any more. I made sure to mark the area with a big warning cross on my map. I didn’t want to stray into such unwelcome territory again if I could avoid it. It might take a little longer to get home after the job, but if I took the same route back I ran the risk of not making it home at all.
I certainly did. I woke slowly as the sun broke through the windows. I groaned as I stretched and smiled, rolling over and finding myself enclosed in the thick duvet. The fire had died down long ago by the looks of things, but the room was still pleasantly warm. I sighed and snuggled down against the pillows, dozing gently for a little while before the need to urinate forced me out of bed with a small grumbling groan. I made my way to the bathroom and relieved myself before washing up in the cool water of the shower. I had enough food left over to stoke the fire back into life and make a light breakfast too, which was enjoyable. While it cooked I headed out onto the balcony and looked around. In the light I could see just how lovely this place was. There was nothing but trees and hills for miles, save for a small loch. I marked the location on the map as I made the bed back up. It was probably a pointless task, but it was nice to do something normal for once. Something I would have done before life changed. And you could never tell when another traveller might decide to spend a night here. Then, with breakfast eaten and the key to the room replaced behind the desk, I took a couple of items with me (mostly from the bar I shall admit) and went to wake up Ford. He was waiting for me patiently when I got to the stables, having let himself out of the stall and raided the hay. I saddled him up and led him out, giving him a moment to stretch his legs and take a long drink out of a stream before I mounted him and double checked the map. Once more we headed into unknown together.
By late morning there was no sign of the hotel behind us, as trees closed around us. I nudged Ford down the shaded road we now followed. Green leaves formed a canopy above us, the branches almost meeting and making an emerald tunnel. It was quiet here, oddly so. I could barely hear the sound of birds singing. It was like being in a whole other world, as if this place was not the land I had once known at all but some strange parallel universe. Ford’s hooves almost seemed to echo a little against the road. I hit a fork and pulled him to a stop in order to reach for the map. I looked up and noticed a faded sign almost obscured by the trees. I could almost make out the words beneath a covering of moss. I could make out the word Haven beneath the greenery. I looked over at the left hand branch of the road, noticing a fence and a gate, rusted open. That had my curiosity and I folded the map away and put it back into my pocket. I pulled on the reins and headed down that discreet path to learn what lay at the end of it. A farm perhaps, or another hotel? Either would be welcome as a place to rest for a while. I passed through a long, wooded lane and barely noticed the small building near the gate. It was already in ruins. Either nature had a good foothold here or something had destroyed it. It looked like it had once been some form of office building at some point. The function was baffling though, as any papers left from its original use had been torn away or faded by the sun and the rain.
It didn’t take long for me to work out what this place had once been as the wooded lane abruptly ended and widened into an artificial clearing. Several small roads branched outwards forming avenues of a sort. There was a large building with the words ‘S-RT- COM-L-‘ on it that looked like it might have a pool inside as well as a small gymnasium. There was a building that might have once been a gaming arcade and a bar in one. A small shop lay bare, the door swinging on a hinge. Most revealingly there were rows and rows of static caravans lining the tiny avenues. The large caravans that never went anywhere because they needed a truck to pull them. This place had once been a holiday camp and now it was quite clearly no more than a trailer park. And it was inhabited by the looks of things. Refuse littered the area and patches that had once been green grass were now yellowed or mud and dirt. The trailers themselves were grimy and had a lived in look. I could see a large dog chained to the legs of one, asleep in the shade beneath the caravan’s body. Ford pulled to a halt of his own accord as I looked around, wrinkling my nose at both an acrid smell and the signs of human poverty I had forgotten about. Empty beer cans and vodka bottles littered the ground next to cigarette butts. Somewhere I could hear the wail of an upset baby and from the far end of the camp I thought I could hear raised voices arguing. Crude graffiti was daubed on some of the caravans. I was vaguely reminded of chav culture, though that had all but died out inside the Dead Zone. And this all seemed like a stereotype of the worst kinds of chavs.
I looked up, conscious of being watched, and my eyes met those of a young girl. I would have guessed her to be roughly fourteen, though it was hard to tell. Her hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail and thick makeup lined her eyes and lips. Large golden hoops hung from her ears. Her clothing was all branded stuff, though it was stained and torn after so long. The Playboy t-shirt she wore was stretched tightly over her swollen breasts and even more swollen belly. She stared at me with wide eyes, clearly surprised by my presence. Movement in one of the caravans caught the corner of my eye and I instinctively turned to look at the window. A pale face stared at me with a similar expression though this one was without make-up. Her eyes were red ringed and sunken and her hair was a bird’s nest. It looked as if she wasn’t doing too well. Her eyes darted around fearfully and she mouthed a single word to me silently through the Plexiglas window.
“Run!”
The sound of dogs barking made all three of us look up towards the source. The frightened face in the caravan shrank away from the window and the girl turned tail and fled back to wherever she had come from. Ford snorted and backed up a little uncomfortably. He certainly didn’t like something, probably the scent on the wind. The barking came closer, as did the raised voices. I could make them out clearer now. It sounded like two men and a woman, possibly more. I pulled Ford back, intending to double back and take the other fork. I got the feeling I didn’t want to be in that place any longer than I had to be. Just as I turned the pair of us around a young man stumbled out of the ruined offices, falling over his own feet. He was followed by another of similar age who laughed and gave his companion a sharp kick in the shin.
“Fucking tosspot!” the second youth taunted. Both suddenly looked up and caught sight of me.
“Who the fuck is this bitch?” the first youth asked groggily. Both of them wore ragged old football shirts for the same team. I couldn’t remember which team they belonged to, but it was one of the premier league teams. The second shrugged and smiled, showing off blank spaces where teeth were missing.
“Dunno Gaz, but I got dibs.” He cackled before rushing towards me and grabbing at my ankles. I panicked and kicked at him as he dragged at me with surprising strength, all the while swearing and muttering obscenities at me. With a rough thud and a tumble I hit the ground sharply as I lost my hold on the saddle. The impact made me wince. I was dazed and barely noticed as He took hold of my leg with both hands and began dragging me across the gravel path back towards the ruined offices. It left a rash on my cheek before I was able to turn myself over. I was conscious of a sudden thud of noise and rush of air which heralded my leg being released. I looked up to find Ford standing over me and the man that had been dragging me on the ground, reeling in pain from having been hit by a tonne of muscle and fur going at an angry gallop.
The other man looked stunned, his eyes darting from the man on the floor to me and then to Ford in quick succession. The noise had drawn some attention as various faces peered out of windows and doors opened. I had to get back on, we had to escape from here. Ford waited patiently, his hoof digging a furrow in the ground as I reached up and used the saddle to pull myself shakily to my feet once more. I was still a little dizzy and I guessed I had hit my head hard when I had fallen. Even so, I was lucid enough to know I had to run away. I pulled myself weakly up onto the saddle as the group of arguers came around the corner, drawn by the shouted complaints of the man on the floor. I almost fell again as the other youth rushed to grab my leg like the first one had. I clung tight and Ford swung around roughly, knocking the lad off his feet. The group stopped fighting amongst themselves and rushed towards me. I closed my eyes and wound my fingers in Ford’s mane. The man that had originally pulled me off from his back had gotten up and now a heavy looking metal pipe was in his hands. I didn’t want to look. I heard Ford snort and whinny as he wheeled around, his large hooves flattering on the tarmac and gravel beneath him. There were shouts, angry and loud and seemingly all around. The racket was enough to wake the rest of the camp up and I could hear voices raising and doors being flung open. We were swiftly surrounded. Suddenly Ford bolted with me on his back, gripping tightly to stay mounted as well as to try and stave off the grabbing hands that reached for me.
I opened my eyes and looked ahead as we ran through the camp, terrified but unable to stop watching as trailers and buildings flew by. We were fortunate that the further we got from the entrance the less idea anyone had about what was going on. A few, surprised, leapt out of Ford’s way. Some of them, on the other hand, lunged to try and grab at me and pull me off the horse. Looking around I could see more signs of abject poverty and, to my horror, signs of horrific abuse were everywhere. There were very few females outside of the caravans and the children were in a filthy state. I stared at one that Ford slowed down to avoid. He (or her, it was impossible to tell for sure) looked up at me with wide eyes. All the child wore was an oversized t-shirt and nothing else. His (or her) skin was caked in dirt and his (or her) hair was raggedly hacked short. Each limb was bruised, but it was more than the bruises of a clumsy child. I didn’t have time to study more, nor wonder what bruises lay beneath the shirt as Ford raced past. In the windows I could see pale, tired faces watching me race by. Dark eyes in sunken faces. Ford took a sharp turn, his hooves almost sliding over the gravel as he changed direction. I put all of my trust in his abilities. I was winded as he leapt over a hastily thrown together sort of roadblock that proved to be ineffective. He ran as hard as he could, as hard as I could ever remember him running. There was a loud noise that I recognised somewhere in the back of my mind as a rifle of some kind and for an instant Ford faltered before picking up the pace once more. He swerved once again to avoid a group of men who were stretched across the road to try and slow us down or catch us. One of them swung something at me and I cried out as a sharp pain shocked my system. I didn’t look down at my leg despite how much it ached.
Suddenly another turn brought us out into a wide clearing. Perhaps it had once been some kind of sport pitch, or a picnic ground. It looked like it was once quite a pretty place, with a stone bridge crossing a gentle river running down the side. Probably people had fished there, until the new owners moved in. Now it was littered with refuse and uncared for. I was wary that there may be dangers in there for Ford to step on but he seemed to navigate it without trouble. There was a burnt out car shell nearby that looked like it was routinely set on fire. I turned to look behind us and saw a large group of people on our tail. But once Ford was out in the open like this they simply couldn’t keep up. The hard part would now be getting back to the road and finding our bearings without them ambushing us. It would be too easy to get turned around, especially as he leapt a hedge and raced into the woods that surrounded the campsite. I caught a flash of bright paint on the bridge before it flew out of view that read simply: Schaffs.
I had no idea what that meant nor did I care. Both Ford and I were preoccupied with staying alive. I could hear him snorting as he pulled in huge lungfuls of air. Had I known he could run so hard and so fast for so long I might have considered entering him in races. He darted left and right, avoiding the trees skilfully. The signs of the occupation were even out here as I saw trees hacked into seemingly randomly and beer cans littering the ground. As well as various other things. Looking down I saw my jeans stained red. Whatever I had been hit with had gashed through the material easily and into my leg. And it stung terribly. I couldn’t worry about it now though. I concentrated on holding tight and helping to guide Ford through the woods. Suddenly we broke through the tree line and onto a narrow country lane. I looked back, figuring it went all the way back to the camp we had just escaped. But I could see no one on the road, unless they were just around the bend and shielded by the trees. I wasn’t going to take any chances anyway and I was more than happy to let Ford go flat out now that he had a decent, mostly clear road to race down. It was a long time and many miles before he began to slow. I gave him a reassuring pat on the neck and looked back. The camp was a long way away now and there had been no sign of its inhabitants for a very long time. I had seen no sign of horses there and I doubted they would know what to do with one anyway. There was no chance they could catch up to us within the next half hour and so I decided we could probably afford to stop and recover a little. My leg ached and so did my head where I had fallen. I was also becoming increasingly aware of the bruises and scrapes I had received. I had no idea if Ford had been injured at all, but he wasn’t lame at least, just tired. I nudged him in the direction of a hill. From the top of it we’d have an excellent view of the road and it would be very difficult for anyone to sneak up on us.
I dismounted a little rougher than I meant to and winced a little as the weight on my leg made it burn. I scanned the parts of Ford I could see as I limped a slow circle around him. His large head turned so that he could watch me with his dark brown eyes. The only injury I could find on him was a thin scrape on his hip. I guessed he had been very lucky, that a bullet from the rifle had only just grazed him. It looked like it had bled a little but was already sealed. All the same I erred on the side of caution and dug my first aid kit out of the saddlebags. I carefully applied an antiseptic to the small wound before letting him go about the serious business of resting for a while. I slipped the bags from him and set them down at the base of a tree. He wandered off to graze a little and to sip cool water from a small brook that babbled down the hillside from a taller mountain above. I turned my attention to myself. I did my best to ignore the aching in my head, preferring not to take painkillers if I could avoid it. They were rare things after all. My finger slipped easily between the edges of the denim as I inspected the gash in my jeans. I did have a needle and thread but that was not a priority at all. Instead I gingerly tried to get a look at the source of all the blood that stained the fabric as well as my skin in almost alarming amounts. It was a few inches long, though I couldn’t tell how deep it was until I could clean it up a bit better. I looked around (though as I expected there wasn’t a soul for miles) before pushing the torn trousers down over my hips and past my knees, just enough to expose my thigh where the gash was. I guessed it had been some kind of blade. The cut was nice and clean. My usually pale white thigh was stained red and pink, the marks going down lower than my knee. No wonder I didn’t feel great, aside from the bump to the head I’d taken. I cut a small strip of gauze and hobbled over to the stream, most likely looking utterly ridiculous. Ford raised his head, dripping water upstream from me and looking vaguely curious about the injury. I had to pat his nose away from the cut at one point when he decided to have a sniff. The gauze soaked up the stream water easily and I was able to use it to carefully sponge away the worst of the mess. The cold water made me gasp and grimace as it chilled and stung. But soon I could actually see what I was dealing with and I frowned. Ideally, I suspected, this would be a case for stitches. I didn’t really have the tools or the knowledge for that. What I did have was butterfly stitches and plenty of bandages. I would have to make do.
Once I had carefully applied enough adhesive strips to be sure that the edges of the wound would hopefully remain mostly closed I bound my thigh tightly with gauze and a bandage. I had managed to rinse out the worst of the stain from my jeans and had left them in the warm sun to dry while I worked on the wound and then had a bite to eat. There was still a tint of rust colour around the tear that I suspected I may never fully get out. At least they were pretty much dry by the time my leg was wrapped and I was able to cautiously pull them back on. I had examined other aching areas and had extracted a remarkable amount of gravel from my hand and arm. Regrettably I had lost my wide brimmed hat at some point and there was no way I was going back to look for it. The bastards could keep it. The mail, fortunately, was safe and sound. I pulled myself back up into the saddle and Ford took the cue to continue onward. No one had pursued us and that was encouraging. I was able to let Ford go at his own pace once again, confident that even if they were tracking us we had a sizable lead and would be at the safety of the village before they could catch up. More likely they would get bored before ever getting that far. Not that I was any less jumpy for a while, constantly checking over my shoulder and always seeing an expanse of empty countryside. After a while even the woods that had hosted the campsite weren’t even a speck on the horizon any more. I made sure to mark the area with a big warning cross on my map. I didn’t want to stray into such unwelcome territory again if I could avoid it. It might take a little longer to get home after the job, but if I took the same route back I ran the risk of not making it home at all.