Temple of the Gods - Andy McDermott [165]
‘Ow . . .’ came a muffled voice. He followed the sound, discovering a cartoonishly perfect Nina-shaped hole in a snowdrift. Its maker was spread-eagled at the bottom.
‘Fuck me, I’ve found a snow angel,’ he said, clearing away the snow. ‘Are you okay? Can you move?’
‘No, and I dunno, in that order. Agh, Jesus . . .’ Nina struggled to sit up, hair festooned with bits of branches and needles. ‘God damn it! Feels like my head’s coming off,’ she said, pressing a hand against one temple – then looking round in alarm. ‘Eddie! The guy I pushed out of the cable car – where is he?’
Eddie hurriedly surveyed their surroundings. ‘I can’t see anyone . . . oh, hang on.’ There was a dark patch beneath the tree, standing out against the snow even in the dying light. ‘Okay, I’ve found him. Don’t think he’ll give us any problems.’
Nina blearily followed his gaze to see the mercenary impaled on a branch thirty feet above like some grotesque Christmas ornament. Blood dribbled down the boughs below him. ‘He’s gone out on a limb.’
‘Hey! Shit puns are my department.’ He lifted her out of the snowdrift. ‘Where’s Dad?’
‘In the cable car.’ The gondola was now out of sight behind the trees. ‘And they’ve still got the statues too.’
Eddie looked in the other direction. Lights were descending the mountainside from the hotel. ‘They’re coming. We’ve got to get to the village.’
‘But they’ll be waiting for us,’ Nina objected.
‘Better than us waiting for them. Come on.’ They set off through the snow.
The village soon came into view, the cable car’s elevated lower station standing out above the houses. The gondola had already reached its destination, but it would take Eddie and Nina another couple of minutes to wade through the snow to the edge of the hotel’s grounds, never mind the village proper. ‘Damn it!’ said Nina. ‘They’ll be long gone when we get there.’
Eddie had other concerns. The main entrance to the grounds was marked by a large gate at the end of a bridge over the railway – and he had just spotted more lights spreading out from it. He looked uphill. The mercenaries from the hotel were now following their trail through the snow, torches bobbing as they yomped down the slope. ‘Shit! They’re catching up. Go that way.’ He pointed to the right, beyond the village’s edge.
‘What’s over there?’
‘Not men with guns, and that’ll do me for now!’
Nina heard something over the crump of snow and their own panting, a deep rhythmic huffing like the breath of some giant animal. ‘It’s the train!’ Past the bridge, glowing embers from the steam locomotive’s funnel swirled in the air as it headed back down the valley. ‘Eddie, the track goes right along the bottom of the grounds – if we can make it stop, we can get aboard.’
He was already judging distances and speeds: of the train, himself and Nina . . . and the two groups of mercenaries closing on them. ‘There won’t be time for it to stop.’
‘Then how are we going to get on it?’
‘Jump!’
‘Jump?’
‘What, you’ve never train-surfed before?’
‘No, because it’s insane!’
‘You never want to try anything new. Come on, hoof it!’ They reached the fence and climbed over it.
The men coming from the gate had obviously been in radio contact with their comrades higher up; the dots of torchlight were all now heading along the bottom of the grounds. The group following Nina and Eddie’s trail were less than a hundred metres behind – and closing the gap.
The train was rapidly approaching, the clanking of the loco’s running gear growing louder. Another jab of pain stabbed through Eddie’s ankle, but he forced himself to run faster as the train came into view, travelling through a shallow cutting below. The carriage roofs were a couple of feet higher than the upper side. ‘There!’ he shouted, pointing at a slight rise on the cutting’s edge. ‘Get ready to jump!’ He grabbed Nina’s hand.
The locomotive surged past, belching steam and hot, sooty smoke. ‘Oh God!’ Nina cried as they