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Chapter 12: A Night Out

"I'm so sorry, George," Scout said, shivering violently in the cold.

"What? Why are you sorry?" George asked, surprised.

"I kept us out here because I wanted to keep playing, even though you knew we needed to stop, I made you stop and look for Jess, I wasn't holding the railing, even though you'd told me, over and over, that I should--"

"No," George interrupted her firmly. "Scout, no to all those things. Honestly," he said, giving her a stern look that would've been comical had their circumstances not been so dire. "This isn't your fault, Jesus Christ, woman, what are you thinking?"

"But George," Scout nearly wailed. "You almost died saving me, and now we're both stuck down here, and there's no way up, and it's going to be dark soon, and you're going to freeze to death, and I really am so, so sorry--" and she began to dissolve into tears.

"Sh, sh, don't cry," he tried to soothe her, patting her back. "First, are you hurt?"

She shook her head. "At least, I don't think so. There's a spot on my back--"

"Let me see," he said quietly.

She turned around, and he lifted her sweater and thin blouse. There was a shallow scrape on her pale skin, which was already turning red. He lowered her clothes.

"You're probably going to have quite a bruise," he said. "But you'll live, I suppose."

He gazed at their surroundings. "Now, we don't know that there's no way up, do we? Let's have a look, hm?"

They were on a small outcropping, a very narrow ledge, shaped like a V, flat, with steep sides, except for the small opening, which made it relatively safe for the moment. The biggest issues were going to be the temperature and the moisture. George tried to stand, and found he could, but even when he did, he could find no purchase for his hands, nothing to grab on to, no way to climb up. The rock was extremely slippery, too.

"Maybe I could stand on your shoulders?" Scout suggested, sniffing, wiping her reddened nose.

George stared at her as if she were crazy. "You're not going to stand on my shoulders," he said. "You'd just fall off, down there to your certain death. We're not in a James Bond film, Scout."

"I'm sorry," she said, stepping back. "I'm just trying to help. Obviously I know we're not in a fucking J-J-James B-Bond film, you d-d-d-d-dick!"

George took a deep breath, palming his already soaked hair back from his face, looking closely at her. He took in her huge eyes, her quivering chin, which was definitely caused by more than just the cold, the spots of color in her cheeks.

"No, darling, I'm sorry." He smoothed her hair back from her face, too. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm being a beast, an absolute wanker." He nodded. "Now, let's see if we can get out of here." He looked around the deepening twilight. "Though it's a hard no on you standing on my shoulders, all right?" he said to her with a smile.

They heard a bark, and looked up. Bandit was peering down over the ledge at them, looking very concerned.

"Could the dogs go for help?" Scout asked hopefully.

George considered. "They've never left the property before, I don't think they would," he finally said in a disappointed voice. "Probably the best we can hope for is that they'll alert Alfred and Sunil when they come tomorrow morning," he concluded. "I think we're stuck here for the night, Scout," he said. "Think we'll survive?"

Scout looked at him soberly. "George, this is no joke," she finally said. "It probably gets really cold out here, you know? We only have what we're wearing, and it's really wet. And windy." She took a deep breath.