Page 5 of The Vanishing Place

Effie stared at the young man, their faces separated by millimeters of transparent plastic.

Blair dug her fingers into Effie’s arm. “Holy shit, I think he’s hurt.”

But Effie didn’t move. The young man’s panicked expression rooted her to the spot, his blood-filled eyes wild with fear.

It was the same expression that haunted her at night, that woke her up in a cold sweat.

The boy, the one from all those years ago, had looked at her with that same frightened expression.

Effie’s every instinct told her to get up. To help him. But the hammering in her heart drowned it all out, and she was a child again. A child, hiding in the bush, her hands pressed to her ears, listening to his screams.

“Effie.” Blair shook her arm. “Effie, we need to help him.”

Her friend’s voice broke through something in her, and Effie turned her head slowly, not quite understanding. Not quite there. Slowly Blair leaned in, closing the gap between them, and touched her forehead to Effie’s.

“You’re not there,” Blair whispered. “You’re safe.”

Effie closed her eyes, letting her friend’s words bring her back to the howling wind and the torrent of rain. When she opened them again, the boy and the bush had gone.

“Well,” said Blair, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Safe might be a bit of a stretch. We’re still stranded on the side of a mountain with a potential psycho outside our tent—again, a stretch. It’s more of a plastic bag, really.”

Effie squeezed her friend’s hand, the moment acknowledged, then set aside. Blair wouldn’t mention it again, and for that, Effie loved her.

“I’m going to go out and talk to him,” said Effie. “I need you to stay here and stop the shelter from blowing away.”

Blair frowned.

“I’ll be fine,” said Effie.

“I know that. It’s the kid I’m worried about.” Blair gave a small smile. “Just…be nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

“You know what I mean. Be gentle.”

Effie rolled her eyes as she lifted the side of the tent.

The rain was relentless. It lashed across the mountain in sheets, the ground wet and treacherous, and the fall of darkness wasn’t far off.

She wiped her eyes, her legs not yet steady, then the blow came.

Sudden and unexpected. The young man’s arm collided with the side of her head, all the sensations in her body rushing to that single spot, and a ringing shot through her skull.

The force knocked her sideways, her feet stumbling on the wet rocks, and she fell onto her knee.

Effie winced at the pain of bone hitting rock and tried to regain her balance, staggering as the storm hammered at her back.

“Jesus Christ,” she swore into the wind.

Her mind blanked for a second, disorientated, then she turned to look at him. He was a complete mess, crouched on the ground, knees tucked to his chest, swaying and muttering, and not in nearly enough clothes.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He looked up at her, his young face swollen and bleeding. “I panicked. I’m sorry. I wanted your tent. I didn’t mean…”

Effie touched a hand to her eye. The boy’s watch must have caught her cheekbone.

“You could have just asked,” she said as she crouched down next to him. “I mean, bloody hell, who punches someone before trying a simple ‘please’?”

Battling against the wind, Effie pulled a foil survival blanket out of her rucksack and wrapped the flapping sheet around his trembling shoulders.

“I’m sorry.” He sniffed, his jaw quivering. “I’m sorry. I’m just so cold. And I hit my head.”

“You’re an idiot. That’s what you are.”

Her tone, less than caring, got a look from him, meaning that he was lucid at least. And thankfully, the rain had been making his eye look worse than it was. The kid had given the blood vessels in his eye a decent rupturing, but it wasn’t actively bleeding. Just a nasty bruise really.

“What the hell are you doing up here dressed like that?” She handed him a Turkish Delight chocolate bar from her pocket. “Who’s with you?”

“No one. I was just…”

Effie had to stop herself from clipping the back of his foolish head.

Tears streamed down his face as he fumbled with the pink wrapping. “I thought it would be cool to run the Slabs. There was this guy on TikTok who did it in—”

“Jesus.” Effie rubbed her face. “What’s your name?”

“Craig.”

“And,” she said, trying to be gentle, “how old are you exactly?”

“Eighteen.”

“Well, Craig, despite you being a complete imbecile, there’s a chance you’re not going to die up here tonight.”

His eyes flashed with fear. Another encouraging, coherent sign. The kid was mainly just cold and wet. And stupid.

“You’re going to get into my shelter,” said Effie, “with my friend Blair. Who, lucky for you, is a nurse, and much more tolerant than me. Then you’re going to wait for the rescue team to arrive.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to hang out here and enjoy the view.”

“You can’t come in too?”

“There’s not enough space.”

“But—”

“Just get in.” She took his arm and guided him toward the shelter. “Before I change my mind.”

—

Effie forced her saturated body into her survival bag and sat on the ground, then she tightened the cord so that only her face poked out in the rain.

The small vacuum-packed item had lived at the bottom of her rucksack for over five years—an emergency backup.

Maybe she was overprepared, and maybe her bag was always the heaviest, but Effie had grown up with a fierce respect for nature.

She’d grown up learning how to survive it. Learning how to survive him.

Effie knew what it felt like to die. She knew what it felt like to shiver so violently that her teeth ached and her vision filled with white dots.

Darkness had settled over the mountain. The watery light from her head-torch illuminated the red bag around her legs, and drops of rain lit up like white streaks in the blackness.

Keith and the team would be struggling to find a route through the swollen streams, and the slippery rocks would slow them down significantly.

It was going to be a long night. Effie glanced at the shelter, at the glowing dome of orange, and hugged her knees, the orb of light sending a forgotten chill down her spine.

For a moment she felt the wet ropes digging into her wrists and ankles, pinning her child-sized body to the ground.

Fear pulsed in her stomach. She was going to die.

She was going to die in the darkness, a child abandoned in the dirt and the trees.

Then, for a second, there was an orange flicker of light.

Of hope.

Gone. Vanished, before little Effie had had time to scream.

Her head lolled forward, the tendons in her neck straining, and the pain jerked her back to the present.

She blinked and rubbed at her face. She had to stay awake.

She had to stay alert, and she had to keep herself visible for the rescue team.

Her body started to shiver. Shivering was good.

She just had to keep shivering, to keep generating heat, for another few hours.

Effie put the time at around 9 p.m.—almost four hours since she’d made the call.

With any luck, Keith and the team would be with them around 11 p.m., maybe later, given the worsening conditions and the initial delay with the helicopter.

She closed her eyes, the darkness absolute, and practiced walking the trail in her mind, crossing every burst stream and navigating each slab of rock.

Blair would need to be stretchered down, and the kid would require babysitting.

It was going to be a long walk out in the dark.

She rubbed at her wrists inside the survival bag, her mind never fully free of the bush, and waited.

—

The first flicker of light came at midnight—a line of small white dots on the horizon. Effie blinked once. Then again. Then she ripped the whistle from inside her sack and blew it until her cheeks hurt. Forcing her legs to move, she stumbled to a stand and turned her head-torch up to full beam.

“Here!” She slipped the survival bag down to her waist and waved her arms. “We’re over here.”

She watched, her heart racing, as the line of dots increased in size and started winding slowly toward her.

“Over here!”

Water dripped down her sleeves and the wind stung her cheeks, but she didn’t stop waving.

She would get Blair off this mountain, and the kid too.

She refused to watch anyone else die. Effie kept shouting until she could make out the familiar wide grin on Keith’s face.

As he neared, the bush memory stung her again—his boots caked in mud as he approached and lifted her small body from the dirt.

“Gosh, is it good to see you.” Keith’s smile spread from ear to ear as he reached over and hugged her.

“Thanks,” Effie managed. “For this.”

“Well, I couldn’t go leaving a damsel in distress, now could I?”

“Don’t.” Effie hit his arm. “Don’t you even dare.”

He held his arms up in mock surrender. “I joke. I joke.”

Effie frowned.

“Seriously, kid.” His expression softened. “You did the right thing. I’m proud of you.”

“So, no ribbing?”

“No ribbing.” Keith winked. “For a solid week at least.”

Effie went to say something when she caught sight of Greg through the rain. And despite trying so hard not to feel anything, heat swelled in her chest and she had to look away.

“The two of them are in the shelter,” she said. “Blair’s ankle will need strapping.”

“Two?” asked Keith.

“Blair will explain.” She blew out a lungful of air. “You’ll see. Just make sure you give the good energy bars to Blair.”

Keith patted his pocket. “I’m one step ahead of you.”

“Thanks.” Effie smiled.

“Make sure you eat something too,” said Keith as he stepped away, the folded rescue stretcher hanging from his back.

“Here.”

Effie turned at the sound of Greg’s voice. He held out a pile of waterproof clothing with a chocolate Bounty bar on top: Effie’s favorite.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She took the pile of clothes without meeting his eye. “You didn’t need to come out in this.”

“Keith needed a twelfth person. For lifting.”

“Oh.”

They stood in silence for a moment, barely a meter apart, as the rain battered the mountain.

A gust of wind caught the emergency bag that was still wrapped around Effie’s legs, and she staggered forward.

Greg caught her in his arms and held her for a moment, her face pressed into the familiar warmth of his chest. Then, unable to look at him, she pulled back.

“I should get changed,” she said. “And check on Blair.”

“Thank you,” said Greg. “For asking for help.” His eyes filled with genuine relief. “I know that can’t have been easy.”

Effie managed a small smile, the ache pulsing beneath her ribs, then she turned away.

“Wait.” He reached for her arm.

“Don’t.” Effie blinked her eyes free of water, the dampness no longer just rain. “Please, not here.”

“It’s not…” He glanced at his shoes. “It’s something else.”

She frowned.

“Some guy’s been trying to contact you.” There was a trace of hurt in his voice. “He’s called the base station like five times. Left multiple messages.”

“What did he want?”

“I’m not sure exactly.” A formality had returned to Greg’s tone. “He said his name was Lewis.”

Effie’s heart missed a beat.

“And he mentioned something about a girl.” He turned his head away from the wind. “I don’t know, he sounded pretty desperate.”

Lewis. Her Lewis . Effie pressed a hand to her stomach.

“Effie,” said Greg. “Are you okay?”

“I…” She let out a breath. “I don’t know.”