OBLIVION

Time slowed within me as the breaking of bone cracked in my ear. A ragged scream leapt from my throat and my breathing shifted to sharp, short intakes.

"Can you walk?" My companion fussed-always the caretaker-his hands found themselves clasped round my leg causing me to yelp a second time.

I returned his worry with a blank stare. We were half way into the Rohtang Pass in the depths of the Himalayas but we may as well be up shit creek without a paddle. My eyes landed on the hands still firmly round my calf.

"Get your bloody mitts off me." I warned with a hard stare. His hands retreated and I pulled myself upright, tenderly placing a little pressure on my limb-it sent shooting pains flooding through my body, and more of the same when I flinched away too quickly. I thudded back down to the cold ground. "There's your answer." I dead-panned.

"Damn!" He kicked at the powdery snow sending it flying around us in a cloud of white. "It's okay, it's okay. We'll call for help! Yeh see we can just call for help! Everything will pan out Dig." He seemed to be trying to convince himself more than me.

"Oh shut up you bloody idiot." Not feeling too much inclined to be optimistic. After all we are being hunted by the majority of the world's security forces; I think calling mountain rescue might call unwelcome attention. "We can't call for help, too risky. We have to get to the safe house...it's the only way we can prove our innocence."

I looked around me, there was nothing much there; it was a continuous blanket of snow. My companion wore much the same as I did: black thermal ski trousers, a dark blue thermal jacket, a trapper hat and crampon boots. The difference was that I wore all black and had skis strapped to my rucksack.

"Take off your pack." His face turned blank. "Martin, take off your pack." He made no move.

"Why?" His face was possibly the most puzzled I'd ever seen it and that is really saying something.

"So we can make a sled. You can use my skis; strap them to your pack and you can pull me the rest of the way." His face lightened as he understood my plan but quickly hardened again.

"Why my pack? Why not yours?" He questioned manically.

"Because my pack is lighter, it will be easier for you to carry." My pain was getting worse by the second, cold seeping through the blood soaked fabric of my trouser leg.

I watched in interest and directed my friend while he took the bungee cords holding my skis to my pack and made his own into a make shift sled upon which I could be dragged up this god forsaken landscape.

"All done!" His face was full of pride for his creation. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I was the one who had told him exactly what to do. "Come on, the sooner we move, the faster we can get to the safe house."

He scooped his arms under mine and lifted me off the ground onto the pack-sled. A gasp escaped my lips. Pain flooded through my body; the shooting through my leg, the deep gnawing ache that filled my bones, the throbbing that plagued my head. I was failing already.

Martin's hand padded my shoulder as he realised the same thing. I shifted myself so I was steady on the pack and Martin chucked my rucksack onto his back, slinging the rope that was attached to his rucksack around his waist and pulled, his back straining visibly with every step he took. I could see my friend start to fail as I conserved all the strength I could.

I'd been dragged on this pack for hours, maybe 5 or 6. "Martin." He pushed forward. "Martin." He stopped to a dead halt and fell to his knees. "Take a break." He took my pack off and leaned against it. "Better?" He nodded and smiled weakly.

The ground rumbled, the sound every man fears out here...Avalanche. Martin leapt to his feet and manically threw the rucksack on, he ran like I've never seen that man run.
The white landslide growing ever closer and ever more imposing.
Like a thousand tiny needles against my skin and the weight of boulders on my body, the snow hit. I didn't know which way was up, I didn't know how deep I was buried.

"Dig!" I heard the muffled scream of my name. "Dig!" I tried hard to wriggle myself free, or at least wriggle enough so he could see. "DIG!" His voice was clearer, closer. And then I felt his hands grab my good leg and pull me out of the cold, sharp mess.

"Jesus Christ I'm cold." He laughed. "We need to keep going Martin." He nodded and re-geared himself up.

We marched for miles, I was losing my strength and I wasn't even talking anymore. Then we stopped. I heard a slapping thud as Martin's face planted the snow. "Martin?" He made no move. I hoisted myself up attempting to ignore the pain that plagued my every inch and dragged myself over to my friend and shook him. "Martin...?" His breath was silent and his body still. But I had to keep going. It would be for nothing otherwise, it would all be for nothing.

I dragged myself for an hour maybe, my leg almost numb and my vision swimming. The crack of the snow was a distant sound now. I felt warm, it felt nice. Heat flooded through my body. I let the weakness comfort me. I slipped into a peaceful oblivion of darkness and slept for an eternity.