Page 30 of Runner 13

Stella

Ali meets me back at the car, just as the convoy carrying all the tents, supplies and volunteers starts making a move to the next destination. The second stage of the race has started and, strangest of all, Boones wasn’t the one who launched it.

It sets my teeth on edge. I don’t think too hard about how that might signal the end of the Ampersands. Maybe bequeathing them to Blixt and this Henry guy is his succession plan. I can’t imagine him handing it over to a corporation. But then again, I’ve never thought like my father.

Ali has good news. ‘A friend of mine has a phone.’

I could almost kiss him. ‘You’re a lifesaver. Where is it?’

‘Come. I will drive you to him.’

Ali and I pass the line-up of cars until we catch up with his friend Rachid, owner of the precious phone.

With a couple of toots of his horn, we signal for him to pull over.

We wait for the other cars to proceed until we’re certain that we’re alone.

Rachid looks furtive when we approach his car window.

He and Ali speak in Arabic, which I can just about follow: he’s worried that we’ll be caught.

‘I won’t be long,’ I say.

He nods, so I jump into the back seat, taking the phone with a grateful smile as he passes it to me, and I dial Pete’s number as fast as I can.

It rings several times before he answers. ‘Hello?’

‘Pete, it’s me – Stella. I’m calling from someone else’s phone and I don’t have much time.’

‘Babe, thank God. It’s so good to hear your voice. It’s been chaos here, since the news about Nabil hit. I can’t believe it.’

‘That’s what I’m calling about. I need you to get to the hospital. Find out what you can about what really happened to him. If you find out anything, send a message to this phone. It will get to me.’

‘What? Why? Do you know something?’

‘Just – please. Do this for me. Find out if there’s anything suspicious about the way he died.’

Ali taps on the window. He gestures to a car in the distance that has turned and broken away from the convoy, which is now driving in our direction.

‘I gotta go. I’ll check in later.’

‘But –’

I hang up before he can say anything more, then hand the phone back to Rachid, who quickly slips it into a compartment between the driver and passenger seat.

‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘ Chokran. ’

Ali and I walk back to our Jeep, trying to keep our movements casual.

The random car pulls up. It’s Henry.

‘Everything OK here?’ he asks, leaning out of his window.

‘Yes, my fault,’ I say. ‘I thought I’d left my shot list in the back of Rachid’s car. But I must’ve been mistaken.’

He nods. ‘And now? I’m driving to the first checkpoint if you want to get some images of the fun runners passing through.’

My breath catches when I see Emilio in the passenger seat. He leans across Henry to talk to me. ‘Feeling any better?’ he asks.

It takes me a moment to realize what he’s talking about. The painkillers he gave me last night. The legitimate ones.

I force a smile. ‘Yes, much, thanks.’

He sits back, satisfied, which helps me relax. If he’s noticed the missing ketamine, he doesn’t suspect me. Though the same can’t be said for me, about him.

‘Sure. We’ll follow you,’ I say.

While I wait to hear back from Pete, this is my opportunity to keep an eye on this doctor. And if he is responsible, to make sure that no one else gets hurt.

Once we’re driving, Ali explains why Rachid was acting so nervous.

‘One of the medics was caught with a cell phone by the Blixt staff. They sent him straight home with no further pay. They said he violated the agreement. But Rachid took a gamble to keep his phone, because his wife is ill and he will face the wrath of his daughter if she cannot reach him.’

‘If they find it, I won’t let them fire Rachid,’ I say.

‘And how would you do that?’

‘Boones is my father. And my wrath is something to be feared as well.’

Ali can’t hide his surprise. It makes me smile, despite all that’s going on. Owning it. Taking back some power.

‘I didn’t realize Boones had a family. When he visited our village, he has always been alone.’

‘I wouldn’t exactly call us a family. He’s my biological father, but he was barely involved with me growing up.’

‘I am sorry to hear that.’

‘My parents got divorced when I was five. I only ever saw him once a year, during race season. Then I quit visiting when I was seventeen, and that was it. He didn’t make any attempt to see me again.’

‘I can’t imagine that.’

‘It’s true. His races were his children, not me.’

‘But you never wanted to run?’

I shake my head, almost shiver. ‘No way. I can’t seem to escape it, though.

My baby sister – half-sister – she wanted more than anything to be the first female winner of an Ampersand race.

I tried to tell her what Boones was really like – that he was a twisted old man who liked to play mind games, not someone to worry about impressing – but she didn’t care.

The Ampersand races were already a legend, dad was the mastermind and my sister wanted to be the hero.

’ I sigh. My whole life I’ve watched from the sidelines as the world seemed to worship my deadbeat dad.

‘I’ve only seen him a handful of times in the past decade.

Most recent was seven years ago, at my sister’s funeral. He didn’t even come to my mom’s.’

‘I am sorry – that is so much loss.’

I give myself a shake. ‘It means that Boones owes me. So don’t worry.

’ Yet, my confidence waivers. Boones might have orchestrated my arrival here, but he’s been absent most of my life.

He’s already shown me how little I mean to him.

And I don’t want to be another one of his experiments.

I spent my childhood trying to live up to his expectations, hoping I would pass whatever imaginary test my dad had set for me that would mean we could have a relationship.

But there was never a test. Not for me.

I wasn’t worth that.

‘Tell me about your family. I’m sure it’s much more interesting than mine. Your aunt is Mariam, right?’

‘That’s right. You must come and visit Tafran when the race is over.’

‘I will, with pleasure.’

‘She inspired me – she left our village and chased her dreams around the world. When I was old enough, I decided I wanted to study business in London. I return in the holidays to help my uncle with his tourism business. But most foreigners want to travel so quickly, dashing from Marrakesh to the dunes and back in two days – it’s madness.

Boom, boom, boom, barely stopping for tea!

You can’t really experience a country like that. ’

‘What about by running through it?’

‘That is very difficult. I respect all the runners out there. I wouldn’t attempt it.’

‘It takes a special kind of madness, that’s for sure.’

We arrive at the checkpoint and I spend the day in Dr Emilio’s shadow, taking photos, portraits that capture key moments and emotions in the race: the agony, the despair, the determination.

Amongst the fun runners, I see people at the edge of their limits, working harder than they’ve ever worked before.

It’s inspiring. It’s terrifying. And I watch Boones as he greets people coming through the checkpoint, slapping them on the back, handing out water.

This is him in his element. Not just the overlord of the race but down amongst the rabble.

The spike of resentment I feel hits harder than I realized.

I thought I was over expecting that kind of affection from him.

But seeing that he is capable of it? Seeing that others are making him proud, when I never could?

It fucking hurts.

And it’s an illusion. None of these runners, staring at him in awe, drawing strength from his presence, none of them know him. They know ‘Boones’ the persona. Not the man.

His legacy is wrapped up in the Ampersands. But are the races bigger than him now? If they somehow continue – if Blixt take over, for example, although I can hardly imagine it – will they still attract the same attention?

Whatever happens, the races and my dad will be inextricably linked. Maybe this is his experiment. Maybe he’s found a way to live forever.

I wish my sister could have too. But she never had the chance.