Chapter 8
"Cormoron! No! Please... please..."
"Shut the fuck up if you know what's good for you."
The three men dragged her down the hill. She struggled, punched, kicked, trying to go back. But a hand came at her left cheek, and she crumbled. They dragged her to the bottom of the hill, where a car was waiting. She was dazed, not noticing the second car arrive. Not until she heard him, feeling strong hands holding her in place.
"Let her go. Now." Barclay.
"Get back in your car and leave."
"Not without her. Robin?" She looked at him, her face stinging, blinking him into focus. "You ok?" She felt herself nod. Someone pulled her arm and she yelled in pain. "Leave her the fuck alone." Everything stilled. Suddenly they guys let her go. They were backing away. She focussed more on Barclay, he had a gun pointed at them. They started to run. But Barclay didn't follow, he grabbed Robin. She got a fright, but she wasn't scared. She only had one thing on her mind.
"Cormoron. Sam... come on..." she half ran half stumbled up the hill, Barclay keeping her upright. She heard the distant sound of sirens. But she didn't slow down.
"Robin, what are you... fuck." He saw Strike's limp form hanging from the thick branch. He ran at him, putting his shoulder under Strike's waist, lifting him slightly, trying to take as much weight off his neck as possible. "Cut through the rope, knife in my pocket. Now Robin!"
With shaking hands, she grabbed the knife, sawing at the thick rope. It felt like forever, Barclay straining under Strike's weight. When she had finally cut through, both men dropped to the ground, with Barclay scrambling to turn Strike onto his back. The sirens were getting louder.
"Robin! Over here, keep his head tipped back," she did what she was told without hesitation. He was pulling the rope from Strike's neck. She gagged at the sight of the mess the noose had left. The skin was red in some places, already blue in others. And the flesh was indented grotesquely, like a vice around his neck. She heard Barclay swear, quickly starting chest compressions. She was frozen. Unable to move. She watched as Barclay stopped, leaning down and blowing air into Strike's mouth. As he started on more compressions, she heard him say he had broken a rib as he muttered words she wasn't paying attention to. She watched him repeat this, for three rounds, until Strike breathed on his own.
"Fuck!" Barclay moved backwards, sitting down, breathing heavy, head in his hands. She just looked down at Strike, tears rolling down her cheeks. He was breathing, but not conscious, his breath rattling in his throat, making strained, painful, strangled noises as he drew breath. She kept her hand on the back of his neck, other on his forehead tipping his head back.
"Robin? You need to stay here, don't move, don't leave him. Keep his head like that. I'm going to talk to them." She wasn't following, but then the noise and lights broke through. The police were here, ambulance. She didn't want him to leave her, but she nodded. They were alone. She was absent mindedly rubbing her thumb on Strike's forehead.
oOo
"Wardle!"
"Barclay, what the fuck?"
There were five police cars, three with a suspect in each, one with the Ellacotts. Barclay ignored it all, walking to Wardle, standing next to the paramedics.
"Up on top of the hill! Now..." the Ellacotts had got out the car and were now standing beside them.
"Robin? Where's..."
"She's fine, she's up there," Barclay turned to Wardle, "Need paramedics up there now," he now looked at the paramedics, "40 year old man, strangulation, did CPR got him back, throat looks damaged." The paramedics were in action, Wardle stepped closer, so only Barclay and the Ellacotts could hear him.
"Cormoron?"
"They hung him from the tree."
oOo
When Eric got to the top of the hill, he saw the paramedics kneeling by Strike, Robin still sitting near him. He walked to her first.
"Robin!" As he crouched beside her, he looked over at Strike. He froze. The skin around his eyes and mouth was dark, the rest of his face ghostly white. But his neck was black and blue, a circle of indented flesh concaving inwards. He could see each breath, hear it against the strangled windpipe. "Robin, are you ok?"
"What the-" the female paramedic had pulled up Strike's trouser leg, exposing the metal rods, looking over at Wardle, "Bit of heads up would've been nice."
"Shit sorry, I forgot. How is he?"
"Bad. We need to intubate; he's not getting enough oxygen. You might want to take her to the ambulance now. His throat is already damaged, this won't help." Wardle knew when he was being told to go, he put her arm around Robin's shoulders gently pulling her up and away from the scene. They were almost at the bottom of the hill when they heard screaming, Linda Ellacott was running towards her daughter.
"Robin! Oh my god," she threw herself on Robin, the latter wincing with the force. "I'm so glad to have you back. I thought... what are you wearing?" No response. "Robin, what are you wearing? What did they do..."
"Linda, stop."
"But..."
"Out the way." Wardle moved the small group to the side. The paramedics were almost beside them, four of them carrying the stretcher. As they hurried past, Wardle heard the Ellacott's gasp. Strike had a tube down his throat, being held in place by plastic, blood on his top. He was about to ask, but Robin beat him to it. First thing he had heard her say.
"Why is there blood?" She pulled away from her parents towards the stretcher.
"It was difficult to intubate. We had to use force."
"Force?" She looked outraged. Her mum tried to pull her back, but she wouldn't go. Strike had opened his eyes, looking right at her. "Cormoron? I'm here. Right here. it's ok, just breathe." She didn't notice that she had climbed into the ambulance, or that her parents were calling her back. All she knew was that Strike was gripping her hand, and she wasn't going to let go.