Time was running out.
Most of the day had passed, and the sun was low on the horizon. The only saving grace was the time of year—there would be no sunset or darkness in this part of the world. That wouldn’t stop the already icy temperature from dropping significantly. I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to fight in the cold as the wind picked up and my rations depleted. Unlike other terrains, there was no vegetation or animals to eat. Maybe I could have traveled all the way to the bottom of the mountain and tried my luck at fishing, but the amount of energy I would spend in the process wouldn’t make it worth the effort.
There was also no real place to make a shelter on the rock and ice ridges of Mount Windsor, which meant I had to keep moving. The only thing that kept me from panicking was the knowledge that Arden would be in the same predicament. Unlike me, he hadn’t played in the games before and wouldn’t be as adept at adapting to the environment. My chances of surviving in the open were better than his.
Don’t underestimate anyone.
If the dude could handle being tied up in the desert as a POW, maybe he’d be just fine out here in the cold. I certainly couldn’t count on him freezing to death. If he did, I’d still be stuck here until morning. The helicopter wouldn’t come looking for me with winds this strong.
Gotta find him.
I hauled myself over another ridge and stood on top of it. It was a stupid place to be, but it gave me a much better vantage point. If Arden was anywhere near me, I might be able to locate him before he got a shot off.
Nothing.
I crouched and placed my hand on the top of the ridge, gauging the distance to the flat ground below. I inhaled and then jumped…
…just as the shot rang out.
Startled, I landed awkwardly on my shoulder but still managed to roll effectively and get myself on my feet. Without thought, I ran to the far ridge for cover as another shot pierced the ground near my feet, throwing shards of ice into the air and back toward the ridge from where I had just jumped.
He’s in front of me.
I ducked, trying to keep my head low and in front of my chest, and zigzagged to impede Arden’s aim. I heard another shot but didn’t see where it hit. I only knew it hadn’t hit me. Leaping my final stride, I slammed into the side of the ridge and dropped low.
Glancing up the side of the rock, I couldn’t see any dark shape that would indicate Arden’s location. This was good because it meant he probably couldn’t see me either. However, it also meant I still didn’t know exactly where he was.
No time to waste.
I headed up the mountain, and my boots crunched in the icy layer on top of the snow. It was steeper and more difficult to make progress as the terrain turned from ice, dirt, and rock to ice, rock, and snow. I trudged on as quickly as I could, always looking up and over my shoulder for any sign of my opponent.
The higher I went, the deeper the snow became. I had on proper boots to keep myself from sinking too much, but it made the trek much more difficult. I was panting and starting to sweat, which was a bad combination. I had to slow down to keep from overexerting myself.
I reached the top of the high ridge and clambered over another outcropping of rocks and snow. My foot slipped a little. The snow here wasn’t as packed as the ice farther down. It was grainy powder, and there were dark patches of rock jutting out all around me. I took another tentative step, and the powdery snow gave way and rolled down the ridge, taking a few rocks with it. As I watched, chunks of snow rolled out of sight around the rocks before I could pull my foot back and find another place to stand.
Fuck.
I reclaimed my footing and held on with both hands as I steadied myself. A few more ice-covered rocks rolled down the mountainside below me as I took a deep breath and pulled. My muscles strained to lift my weight up and over the ledge.
Keeping low, I scuttled over the small, flat shelf and up against the ridge. There was another ledge above me, offering cover from the higher points of the mountain. I didn’t think Arden was much higher than I was and began to look all around.
Still nothing but precarious rocks and frozen terrain.
I shivered, grabbed a handful of macadamia nuts from my pockets, and started up and over the next ledge. The snowpack was even more unstable as I went higher, and I kept close to the top of the ridge, hanging onto the established rock as I crawled up the mountainside.
I reached the top of the southern edge of Mount Windsor. Looking north, there was a deep gorge of smooth snow separating the south and north sides of the island. The cliffs heading down were extremely steep, and there was no way to safely head down from where I was.
I could see the entire island around me, all the way down to the Arctic Ocean. White snow, grey ice, and brilliant turquoise water looked so peaceful from my vantage point, I could almost forget the bloodshed that had already occurred in this remote, serene location. I couldn’t spend any time enjoying the scenery though—I had to keep moving.
I walked slowly on top of the precarious edge of the ridge, looking all around me as I did. My feet slipped a couple of times, and I watched the loosened snow form small mounds and roll down the mountain face. Up ahead of me was a large standing of rocks, and I headed toward it.
Crouching in a crevice, I paused to catch my breath. I was taking too many breaks, wasting time, but the wind was starting to penetrate the layers of clothing covering me and was even beginning to sneak into the gap at the bottom of my face mask.
I tucked the mask’s edges a little deeper into the neckline of my parka, making sure there was still plenty of room for my moist breath between my mouth and the fabric, taking care to avoid getting any part of my clothing wet.
My fingers were sore from the intense climb. I spent a couple minutes flexing them and making sure I hadn’t hurt myself. I wasn’t sure if I would even be able to tell; the frigid temperatures often masked injuries. I could barely feel the place on my leg where Arden’s bullet had grazed it earlier in the day.
Out of the corner of my eye, a dark shape caught my attention.
I had no doubt who it was, and my heart rate increased as I watched Arden make his way over the top of the ridge two hundred yards from where I remained hidden between the rocks. The assault rifle was slung over his shoulder and held in one hand as he used the other to steady his passage across the unstable rocks. He looked back and forth down the side of the cliff as if he was searching for a way down.
It was the best chance I’d had all day.
I backed through the rock formation, keeping my eye on him the whole time. I couldn’t risk losing sight of him. Slipping to just over the edge of the ridge, I held on with my hands as I moved from right to left across the narrow ledge, counting the hand-over-hand motions until I reached two hundred. Flexing, I brought myself high enough to peer over the ledge but had to quickly drop down again, careful not to make a sound as I did.
He was right in front of me.
I closed my eyes and counted to five, breathing deeply to center myself. Bending my knee, I found a stable rock ready to take my weight, and then launched myself to the top of the ridge.
Arden turned toward the sound, but I was already jumping down on top of him. He tried to swing the AR in front of him as we collided, but the shot he fired went far off to my right. We landed in the snow with him on his back and me straddling him.
My first punch went straight into his chest, the second into the side of his head. I could have gone for the piano wire at my waist, or even the Busse I’d taken from Dytalov’s body, but I didn’t. I wanted to hit him. In that instant, I blamed him for everything that had occurred over the last month.