7
JESSICA RETREATED into the shrubbery at the bottom of the cliff.
First one and then another figure came out of the reeds. Against the glare of sunlight, they were nothing more than black shapes. Small, dressed in rags, with mops of untidy hair like reggae singers. Five of them.
How could they have come down that cliff so quickly?
They stopped on the beach, talking and gesticulating. Any minute now and they would see her footprints and then they only needed to follow the trail.
Jessica broke a branch off a shrub and pushed backwards through the vegetation, sweeping the fine sand over her footprints as she went. It was a botch job and if these trackers were worth their salt, they’d find her in a jiffy, but what else could she do? Branches snagged on her clothes and scratched her arms.
