They staggered frantically across the peat moors as best they could in the darkness, torn between watching where their feet were going and looking nervously behind them. After a couple of minutes they saw the sweep of the police car’s headlights emerge over the hill, fingers of light reaching across the landscape. They flattened themselves into a small snowy crevice in the heather, freezing and soaking their stomachs, Roddy stifling a cry of pain.

The car crawled along the path, the beam of a torch coming from the driver’s seat, spraying this way and that as Joe hunted for them. The car seemed to take forever to drive on, but eventually it crawled further along the path, heading inland, the headlights and torch beam arcing further away.

‘Come on,’ said Molly, picking herself up and trying to brush the wet snow off. ‘This way.’ She pointed uphill.

‘Why that way?’ said Roddy.

She helped him to his feet. ‘Because it’s the opposite direction from Joe. Good enough?’

‘That’ll do for me.’

They walked on, almost getting used to the rough terrain, the spongy feel of the heather under their feet, the snow smothering everything, the faint whiff of peat crystallising in the frozen air. The snow seemed to muffle all noise except for the squeak and scrunch of their footfalls in the white wilderness.

‘Think he’s lost us,’ said Adam eventually, looking back. It had been quite a few minutes since they’d seen the lights from Joe’s car.

‘Fucking idiot,’ said Roddy, as faint headlights appeared again on the horizon. ‘Don’t you know anything about tempting fate?’

‘Remind me to kill you when we get out of here,’ said Adam.

‘Get down you morons,’ hissed Molly, hitting the deck.

They did likewise as the car beams played over the hill they were on. They were more exposed than before, Adam suddenly regretting his dark jacket, an easy target against the white blanket covering everything.

The headlights passed over them. Adam looked up to see where the car was, just as the thinner beam from the torch pointed right in his face.

‘Stay down,’ said Molly, but it was too late.

The sound of a shot cracked the heavy silence, making them all jump.

‘Shit,’ said Molly.

She hauled Roddy up and started running, the three of them tumbling over rocks and holes, running for their lives. They darted from side to side, zigzagging as best they could.

The car headlights disappeared, but the beam of torchlight occasionally found them, causing them to scatter like panicked deer.

‘Stay together,’ shouted Molly over her shoulder. ‘Or we’re screwed.’

Adam grabbed Roddy and dragged him towards Molly, all of them trying to dodge the torchlight. His heart pounded in his ribcage and his head throbbed with the effort of trudging and slipping across the moors. This couldn’t go on forever, something had to give one way or the other. He had a flicker of memory, sitting in front of a log fire in the Scotch Malt Whisky Society in Leith with the others, single-cask Laphroaigs in hand, Islay map laid out in front of them, getting psyched about the trip. It was a different universe.

The sound of a shot startled him, and he pulled Roddy on.

‘Easy there, fuckface,’ said Roddy.

‘Shut up and run.’

‘I’d run better if you stopped fucking pulling me.’

‘Fine.’ Adam let go. ‘Suit yourself.’

He darted sideways and stumbled, lumbering forwards then pitching face first into the snow. He jumped back up and ran towards Roddy and Molly just ahead. Another shot rang out as the torch beam arced over them.

Joe couldn’t be that close behind or he would’ve hit one of them by now. All Adam could hear was the rush of adrenalin and blood in his ears and his wheezing breath as he reached the top of a rise and dived over the other side. He began sliding downwards in the snow, caught a jumbled glimpse of Molly and Roddy doing the same a few yards ahead. He was picking up speed and so were they, all three of them out of control in the deepening snowdrifts. His feet sank deep into the white, pitching him over onto his stomach, then tumbling onto his back, out of control, sending a spray of snow up into his face as he keeled over, his momentum driving him down the slope, further and further, no idea which way was up and which was down, whether he was falling to safety or over a cliff edge. He panicked as he tried to regain his footing, felt a sharp smack as his arse hit a rock, throwing him over again, a weight of snow thrust down on top of him as he slid backwards for a few more yards before thumping into something soft.

‘Fuck.’

It was Roddy beneath him, Molly a couple of yards to the side. Adam rolled over and looked back up the slope.

A blaze of burning light exploded into the air, making him flinch and close his eyes. He shook his head and opened them again. The snow all around was bathed in luminous violet light, giving everything an eerie, nightmarish look. Standing at the top of the hill was Joe holding a huge flare spewing out smoke and light. In his other hand was a gun. He was scanning the whiteout, looking in the other direction, so he hadn’t yet spotted them half buried under a mini-avalanche.

‘Fuck,’ said Roddy as Joe turned towards them.

Adam looked beyond Roddy. In the distance he could see the American Monument, its lighthouse shape penetrating the purple edge of sky. Between here and there was an oddly flat expanse, the white sheen covered in thousands of small dark shapes.

‘What the hell is that?’ said Adam.

Joe’s gaze finally rested on the three of them, far enough away that they were still a tricky shot from the top of the hill.

Molly got up and started running. ‘Our salvation,’ she said over her shoulder, as Adam and Roddy picked themselves up and pitched after her.