Paint with me fellside m.., p.1
Paint with Me (Fellside Mountain Rescue Book 3), page 1
Dani Elias
Paint with Me
Fellside Mountain Rescue – Book 3
© Copyright Dani Elias. All Rights Reserved.
Copyright Protected with www.ProtectMyWork.com,
Reference Number: 19472260423S041
ISBN: 978-1-7393324-2-6
Editor: Sofia Artola Diaz
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This material is protected by copyright.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review
Contact Dani Elias at d.elias@daniebooks.com for permission
Acknowledgement
I want to thank all my amazing readers. Thank you for taking a chance on someone you may not have heard about before. Thank you for making time to read the stories that mean so much to me. And thank you for all your feedback and comments that keep me motivated.
I want to especially thank Amy S and Louise Davis. Both live thousands of miles from me. We have never spoken or met in person, yet they have provided me with more support than some people who are part of my day-to-day life. I will be eternally grateful for your encouragement!
A cause near to my heart
My Fellside Mountain Rescue Series is about men and women of a fictional group of volunteers risking their lives to help those in danger in the mountains. My characters may be fictional, but many people around the world do just this every day and they deserve our respect, our support and at the bare minimum our thanks.
Thank you!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
WANT MORE?
THANK YOU
STAY IN TOUCH
FELLSIDE MOUNTAIN RESCUE SERIES
Chapter 1
Nick
I pull the beanie over my head, making sure my ears are protected from the cool autumn air. Across the road, on Langdale Farm’s field, the helicopter is landing. I wave at the HELO pilot before making my way to the specialist off-roader SUV parked beside the road where Tommy is assembling our team. The Fellside Mountain Rescue Centre sent an alert thirty minutes ago about a potentially distressed hiker at an exposed location. Our unit was chosen to take the lead on this mission, with other teams supporting us.
Fellside Mountain Rescue—or FMR, as we usually call ourselves—is one of several rescue services across the Lake District. Within FMR, we are split in small sub-units with six to eight members each. We don’t mix and match between the units: you go on missions with your unit or not at all. When trying to save lives in the unforgiving mountains around here, you must know you can trust the person next to you. We are all volunteers, and I happily give my spare time to be part of this amazing group of men and women. I am a Primary School teacher by profession, but I love the work I do for FMR just as much as my regular job.
I rub my hands against the chill as I approach Phil and Rob. Both greet me with a nod. There are six members in my unit. Aside from us three, there are also Chris and Alex and, of course, our team leader Tommy, who is currently scanning a map he has unfolded on the hood of the SUV. Phil and Rob are already suited up and ready to go, but I can’t see Chris anywhere. Alex is also missing.
“Hey, Nick,” Phil greets me. Until recently, I had a strained relationship with most of the guys in my unit outside of work, especially with Alex and his best friend Phil. I can’t deny that this was mainly down to me being a twat. However, after I helped Alex to get his Emma, things changed. I wouldn’t say we are best friends yet but I have officially joined their circle and regularly hang out with them.
“Alright, mate?” I ask, “Where’s Alex?” Alex is usually the first at every rescue mission.
“In Italy with Emma. I swear he spends more time abroad nowadays than here,” he chuckles. We both know this is an exaggeration, but Emma has definitely infected him with a travel bug.
“Listen up,” Tommy calls our attention. “We have a report of a person stuck on the Fellside Horseshoe. They are sitting about eighty meters below the ridge, very close to where the slope drops down the Devil's Wall.”
The Fellside Horseshoe is a popular and easy ridge walk. On either side of the ridge is a steep but not dangerous slope. However, on the eastern end the slope ends suddenly and drops down a four hundred meter vertical wall. I have climbed the Devil’s Wall a few times. It is a notorious multi-pitch rockface, and you need some serious climbing skills and proper equipment. A climber’s dream, but a hiker’s nightmare.
“Are they injured?” Rob asks Tommy with a grim face. Rob may be our resident joker and prankster, but like all of us, he takes rescue missions very seriously.
“We don’t know. The group that reported the hiker couldn’t make contact despite calling out to them. This means they are either unconscious or can’t hear calls. The wind is blowing up from the valley today and it could be carrying voices away from them.” Tommy’s reply means that we go into this rescue with little to no information. Never a great sign.
I can see members of other units arriving. If we are called to a search and rescue mission, we can have up to fifty people in the field looking for the missing hikers. Today, we know where they are, which makes it easier and requires less personnel.
“Right, it’s just the four of us today, so we get more support from other units. We will split up. Nick and I will take the HELO to make sure we get to the hiker asap before they get closer to the edge. Phil and Rob, take the Range Rover up to Stone’s corner and from there come up by foot to support evac if they are injured. The other teams will slowly make their way up in case we need them.” Once he has finished giving us our instructions Tommy sprints off to explain the plan to the other team leaders.
“Well, old man, taking the easy way up?” Rob jokes and slaps me on the back. He and Phil are only a couple of years younger than the rest of us, but they are always keen to point that out.
“Guess Tommy wants the superior climber with him,” I retort. We look at each other sternly before we both chuckle. Joke aside, we all know I am a stronger climber than both of them. My skills are second only to Alex’s. We all have a part to play in the unit, and Phil and Rob have their own qualities that the team relies on. Mine are my climbing skills.
“Where is Chris?” I don’t feel comfortable working with just such a small group even if we don’t expect problems.
“Elbow deep inside a cow probably,” Rob chuckles.
“Just as he was about to leave, one of his cows started calving and neither the vet nor his farm hands are available to help,” Phil adds with a big grin.
“Rather him than me,” I laugh.
The three of us bump fists, and then I grab my backpack and sprint across the road. The Coastguard helicopter sitting on the field glimmers in the sun, but I am not fooled. It is windy today, so we are in for a bumpy ride.
With the Lake District being so close to the sea, the Coastguard, despite their name, lend a hand when we need them for a mission. I have seen them complete some risky manoeuvres when a life was at stake and we all admire and respect the pilots.
Tommy catches up to me, and we both greet the helicopter crew. Once we are strapped in I feel the familiar jolt when the HELO takes off, and I can see through the window that we gain height very quickly.
It should only take ten minutes to reach the top of the Fellside Horseshoe. The summit is a large flat plateau with three ridges leading away from it like the arms of an octopus. Thanks to the plateau, we can easily hop a lift with the HELO as it means it can land safely far enough from the ridge. After they drop us off they will circle the mountain awaiting instructions.
“I haven’t seen your mum in a while, is she alright?” Tommy’s voice crackles through the headset.
My mum raised me on her own after my dad walked out on us when I was five. He worked for a car manufacturer which relocated to Yorkshire. My parents decided that he should keep the job, as there was nothing else around Fellside for him, and just stay with an aunt of his during the week. At the beginning he came home every weekend but that changed very quickly. Eventually he told my mum he had met someone else. They got a divorce and I never saw him again. I think this is when my issues with rejection started.
It was tough for my mum as well but she somehow managed to make it work and even helped me finance my teaching degree. Now that she is retired, I insist on subsidising her pension with some of my income. I can afford it and it means she can finally enjoy life. She and her friends have been meeting for a fancy dinner at Tommy’s hotel every month without fail for a few years now which is how he knows her.
“She and her friends are saving for a cruise, so they have decided to cancel their monthly dinners for a while,” I explain. I had offered to pay but she wouldn’t hear of it.
“Tell them the next dinner is on the house.”
&
“Nonsense. They have been loyal customers. The next dinner is on me.” He grins.
“I’ll tell her. Thanks, Tommy!” My smile is equally big. I know my mum and her friends will refuse the offer at first, but they won’t be able to resist. They love the food at Tommy’s hotel.
We both go silent, and I sit back and enjoy the view. I can see the beauty of the Lake District in front of me. We are nearing the end of October, and the trees are glowing red, orange and yellow in the sunshine. Between the meadows and woods, the peaks rise into the sky. They are not high compared to other large mountain ranges around the world, but they offer some interesting and challenging walks and are popular tourist destinations. I love it here, and I wouldn’t consider moving anywhere else. This is where I grew up, this is my home.
A crackling in the headset I’m wearing pulls me from my thoughts.
“Three minutes,” the pilot announces. Tommy indicates to me that he will go first, and we get ourselves ready. I feel the helicopter dropping a little due to the wind, and my stomach clenches. I don’t particularly like flying in the HELO, and landing is definitely the worst part. Let’s hope the hiker isn’t badly injured, and we can descend the mountain with them on foot rather than having to call the Coastguard back.
I see the pilot giving us a thumbs-up as we have already removed our headsets. I unbuckle my seatbelt and wait for Tommy to open the door. He smoothly leaves the helicopter and instinctively crouches down. I do the same, and we both run towards a group of people waiting near the ridge above the Devil’s Wall.
Behind me, the helicopter takes off again. We only use it if absolutely necessary, as helicopter rescues are expensive. The pilot will wait until we have assessed the situation. If we find we don’t need him back, he will return to the airfield, significantly cutting the costs of the whole operation. I know it might sound callous to talk about costs when a person’s life is at risk, but we don’t charge for our rescues, and funding for our work is always sparse. However, let me reassure you, primacy of life is our most important principle, and we would not let any cost in the world stop us from giving our all to save a person in need.
“Did you call us?” Tommy addresses the hikers. They are dressed in shorts and T-shirts, and only one is wearing a jacket. Sadly, the Lake District often attracts ill-equipped tourists with little knowledge of the mountains and the notorious weather changes that can hit within minutes. Weather forecasts for the Lake District are rarely correct. If you rely on them and don’t bring the right outfit, you put yourself at serious risk, which is why we volunteers are being kept quite busy.
A young woman shivering in the breeze, confirms Tommy’s assumption and points to a small bright blue spot below the ridge. I can see the shape of a person, but I can’t see if they are moving. It looks like they are sitting and not lying down.
Another shiver grips the woman standing in front of us.
“You better make your way down. There’s bad weather coming, and you don’t want to get caught up in it,” I try to usher them away. The group is visually relieved that they can now leave the stranded hiker to us.
Tommy steps up to the steep slope and calls out. But with the wind hitting us squarely in the face, it is clear that any sound is carried away from the hiker rather than down to them.
“What do you think?” he asks. He might be the leader, but he is always keen to know our opinions before making decisions.
“Not sure. It looks like the person is sitting, but why would they sit so close to the edge?” I take my backpack off to look for my binoculars, and when I can’t find them, I curse. My nephew was playing with them only last week. I’ll have to ask the little munchkin where he has hidden them.
“You best go down. I’ll belay you. I know it is not a climb, but when you get down there, I don’t want you unsecured near the edge.”
I nod in agreement. It could just be an insane tourist with no survival instinct, and the climb will be a waste of time and effort. But it is our duty to check, and it could be much more serious than it looks from up here. My time serving with the FMR has taught me to not be surprised by anything.
I quickly put my safety harness on, clip carabiners and other equipment in place, and shoulder my backpack. I should be able to walk upright down the slope, which is steep until it meets the edge of the Devil’s Wall, but not so steep that it would require me to abseil.
Tommy and I double-check our radio connection to make sure I have a way to communicate with him, and we call Phil and Rob, who confirm that they are making good time, but they are still an hour from the top.
As I descend, I am careful where I step, but I also try to monitor the hiker. Thanks to the steepness of the slope, it doesn’t take me long to get a clearer outline of the person. It looks to be a woman. Long auburn hair is curling around her shoulders. A beanie similar to mine is the only thing stopping her hair from flying wildly in the wind. She is wearing a blue jacket and is sitting incredibly close to the edge. Not close enough to dangle her feet over it, but not far off.
I can see her arms moving frantically in front of her, but her back prevents me from seeing what she is doing.
I call out again, hoping that she can now hear me. Nothing.
I briefly stop and press the call button on the side of the radio, which I have clipped to my backpack strap at shoulder height.
“FMR three to FMR six.”
“Go ahead.” Tommy’s voice crackles through the radio.
“Person is moving but still not responding to my calls. I think it’s a woman. Over.”
“Roger that. Over.” Not much else Tommy can say really.
I carry on walking down towards the woman. The wind is getting stronger and hitting me in the face. I pull the zip on my red FMR jacket higher. When I am only a few meters away from her, I edge to the right and can finally see what she is doing. What the heck? She is drawing. I can’t believe my eyes. She has a small canvas on her lap and a number of crayons in her hands.
“Hello?” I call out. Nothing. I shake my head. It is impossible that she can’t hear me from just two meters away, wind or no wind. I take a few steps closer until I am almost in touching distance, but I don’t dare to attempt to reach out. I don’t want to scare her, causing her to move too quickly and maybe put herself in harm's way.
From this close, I can see the reason why she can’t hear me. She has earbuds in her ears and is probably listening to music. Her face is directed to the left of her, so I can’t make out her features. I look around and wonder how to alert her to my presence without causing her to put herself at more risk. I move further to the right with the plan to approach her from the side rather than the back. This way, if she gets spooked, she will move backwards or to the left rather than over the edge. This will also put me between her and the abyss, which is exactly where I want to be. I am roped up after all, and she isn’t.
Once I have radioed my plan to Tommy, I slowly approach. Unfortunately, I didn’t consider the sun, which is now behind me. My shadow falls over her, and is enough to spook her. She screams loudly, and her arms fly in the air. Multiple crayons are airborne, and two tumble down Devil’s Wall. My heart races, and I try to put myself in a position to stop her from going over the edge if I have to but I can feel the rope pull tight, restricting my movement. Tommy must be reacting to her scream, which the wind will have carried up to him.
I hold up my hands in the universal sign of surrender and point to the FMR logo. Her eyes narrow, and then anger appears. For the first time, I can see her face properly. Fuck. That’s Charlotte. Charlotte is a friend of Christina and Emma and, consequently, has been part of some of our group outings over the last few months. Her beautiful green eyes sparkle dangerously at me.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing, Nick?” she shouts at me whilst taking her headphones out.
“We received a call that you are in distress.”
“Do I look like I’m distressed?” She gives me an angry look.
