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It’s Adrienne and Rupert both soaked in blood. I can’t tell whose blood is whose. Rupert has cloth wrapped round his leg, so I’m guessing the majority is his, but Adrienne’s face is screwed up in pain. As soon as she sees us, she and Rupert collapse to the ground. She rolls to one side, clutching at her arm.
‘What happened?’ I ask Adrienne.
She looks at me. Her eyes are wild. Ringed with sweat, dirt and blood. Red with exhaustion. ‘He had a gun …’
‘I know. The man who did it. Where is he?’ I glance up at the route they came down from the jebel, wondering if Dale will come stalking out of the mountain at any moment.
‘Dead,’ she says.
My head snaps back to her as she says it. ‘Was it Steve Parsons?’
She nods.
‘Fell.’ She spits each word out, one at a time. ‘Rupert. Shot.’
Ali catches up with us now. Adrienne still has her backpack on. She sips at her water as Ali and I tend to Rupert, getting him to sit up. His head lolls – how she managed to get him down the mountain, I have no clue.
‘This wound doesn’t look good. We need to get him back to the bivouac as quickly as possible. Adrienne, you get in the car first and Ali and I will carry him.’
She takes in a bit more water. ‘I have to run,’ she says, rolling on to her knees, then pushing herself up to stand. Unbelievably, stupidly, she takes a step forward.
‘No you can’t,’ I say. ‘You’re in no condition. The race is over.’
‘It’s not,’ she bites back. ‘I have to finish. Someone has to finish.’
‘At least … do you have a bandage for your arm?’
She looks down at her sleeve, at the torn fabric that’s bloody at the edges. She blinks as if she didn’t even realize she was hurt, even though she’d been holding it limply. She lifts the frayed edge and winces as her fingers brush the open wound. ‘I was shot too,’ she says. ‘Or grazed by the bullet, I suppose.’
‘Adri …’ I shake my head. Surely now she has to come to her senses.
Instead, she rips the sleeve clean off, then ties it round her bicep. I reach out to help but she spins away from my hands.
‘Myself,’ is all I make out, as she pulls the knot tightly with her teeth. When she’s done she waits a beat. Then another. Then she nods.
Something breaks inside my chest. A box of emotions I’d locked tight. The sight of her – bloody, dirty, covered in dust and sweat and grime and sand, her cheeks stained with tears. ‘I’m sorry, Adri. I’m sorry I left Yasmin. I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for you. I’m sorry I let you go through all that alone. I …’
She shakes her head. ‘Don’t.’ She takes a deep breath and juts out her chin. ‘Let me run.’
Pete’s going to throw a fit when he finds out I let her go. But I stand back. I’ve stood in Adrienne’s way too many times.
‘What is she doing?’ Ali asks me.
‘She wants to finish.’
‘Should we allow that?’
‘Do you want to be the one to stop her?’
Ali stares at her. ‘But …’
‘Ultrarunners are a different breed. I’ve seen people run with broken bones, severe sleep deprivation, people who have gone completely blind with corneal oedema, people peeing blood. Once I saw a runner come into a checkpoint with a dislocated hip, had the doctor pop it back in, then continued on. If she’s got two legs and they’re still moving, she’s going. Come on, we need to get Rupert to the hospital.’
‘And Pete?’
‘I’ll send him a message. We’ll get another car to pick him up.’
Ali nods as I get out my phone. It’s Rupert’s safety that’s key now. We grab Rupert by the arms and help lift him into the car. His body is limp but his eyes flutter open. ‘It’s OK, Rupert,’ I say. ‘We’ve got you.’