by Ryan Casey
Then Mike saw something.
The clothes.
The clothes he was wearing.
Battered. Torn. Filthy to the point Mike couldn’t believe the guy was still wearing them, in all truth.
But no doubt about them.
They were prison clothes.
Escaped prisoners.
Perfect.
The man pulled back his hand, and Mike realised then that he was holding something. Something sharp.
He launched it at Mike’s stomach.
Mike staggered back, losing his footing. He tried to keep his balance, but it was too late; it was no use.
He landed on the ground with a splat.
Mud covered him. He tried to stumble back to his feet, tried to twist around. Not-so-helpfully, Arya didn’t seem to be helping either. She was awkward like that. Damn her.
Mike had a moment of wondering. A moment of curiosity. Because… Sonia. He couldn’t see her. Couldn’t see her anywhere.
Then he didn’t have much longer to wonder.
The man landed on top of him, knife raised.
Mike pushed back. He swung at the man with his knife.
But the man saw the move coming. He punched the knife away from Mike’s hand.
And then before he knew it, Mike was lying on the ground, this man’s knife to his neck.
He smelled his sour breath. Tasted his saliva as it dripped into his mouth. He pushed back. Pushed back with all the force he had, all the strength he had. Because he was under no illusions here. Make no mistake about it. He knew what this guy wanted. He didn’t know why, didn’t know his motive, didn’t know his game, but he knew that he wanted to kill him.
And that if he didn’t think of something, he’d succeed.
He tried to shuffle to the side a little, being careful not to lose too much balance. One slip, and the man’s blade would stick into his neck. One slip… and it would be over.
He looked down. Looked at where the man was leaning. Looked at how his leg was placed.
And he remembered a move. A self-defence move. One from his time in the army.
If he still had it in him…
If he still had the fitness; the stamina…
Hell. He had to try. If he didn’t, he was dead.
He raised his knee and punched it right into the man’s groin.
He heard a grunt. Felt an arching of the man’s back.
Which was exactly what he wanted. Exactly what he needed.
He punched, then. Punched right into his stomach. Then kicked. Then went to twist him over, to flip him over, so he could turn the tables here, so he could get his hands around this man’s neck and end him, once and for all.
He tried to push. Tried to swivel. Tried to turn. And then he heard something. Something that made him uncertain. Something that made him shake, as Arya stood beside them both, whining, clearly scared.
“Just give up,” the man said. “Just give up and be with us. We welcome you all. Everyone!”
Mike didn’t have time to wonder about what the man had said. He didn’t have time to think. He didn’t have time for any of it.
Just to keep holding off.
Just to keep resisting.
And keep damned hoping that Sonia would rear her mad head again sometime soon.
But then he felt something.
A kick.
A kick right in his stomach.
Then a punch in his throat.
And suddenly, he was on his back again.
The man wrapped a hand around Mike’s neck. He put the knife to it with his other.
“You should have just given up,” he said.
Mike held his breath.
Closed his eyes.
And he waited for the blow.
But then something happened.
A gargle.
A struggle.
A shuffling right above him.
He opened his eyes. Watched the man fall to one side. Blood oozing from his neck.
And as he lay there, eyes wide in the light of the moon, he wondered. He wondered who it was. Sonia. It had to be. She had to have come back.
But then he saw them clearly and he realised exactly who it was.
“Hello, again,” Calvin said. “Right place, right time, huh?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Alison heard the intruder’s footsteps creaking across the floor of the cabin lounge, and she knew she and Ian had to hide.
Immediately.
She turned around. Made a break for the stairs. Started to climb up them, up towards the attic, Ian not far behind. The darkness was intense. It felt like this day and this night had lasted forever. Why was it always the torturous, painful nights that dragged on like this?
She heard the footsteps downstairs getting closer. Heard them edging towards the lounge door as she scrambled her way up these steps. She knew she had to be careful. She knew she had to try her damndest to make it look like there was nobody in here.
She reached the top of the stairs and looked back.
There was nothing quite as harrowing as seeing a darkened figure walk through the building you were in, especially when you were trying to hide from them. And especially when you feared they were the exact figure you’d spent the last however long trying to get away from.
But they walked right past the foot of the stairs.
They walked right towards the back of the cabin.
And that’s when Alison felt a moment of relief, as she perched there, frozen still. That’s when she felt just a glimmer of optimism that maybe she could get out of this mess. That maybe she and Ian could make a break for it and get out of here. Or wait up here, bide their time until the person who’d broken in here went away.
But then she saw something else.
Something that filled her with fear.
Something that brought her crashing right back down to earth.
Another figure stepped out of the lounge.
And then another.
Both of them heading towards the kitchen.
Alison’s mouth was dry. She turned, just a little, to look at Ian. She couldn’t make him out properly. Just that he was staring down into the darkness, wide-eyed. If there was one thing Alison could be relieved about, it was that Ian had rediscovered his will to live just at the right time.
But that didn’t count for much.
Not when a fourth person headed out of the lounge area.
Only this one didn’t head towards the kitchen.
This one headed right towards the stairs.
Alison turned right away. Kept as light on her feet as she could, Ian still by her side as together they made their way to a dark corner of this open-plan bedroom on the upper floor. It was a weird space, really. Just a large mucky bed. Old tools and things discarded like someone had been attempting to convert this cabin into a home at one stage.
The footsteps were still moving up the stairs. Still getting closer.
Alison looked around in a panic, looked into the darkness. Tried to remember where things were. Tried to remember whether there was anywhere she could lay low; anywhere she could hide.
And then she remembered it.
She saw it in the corner.
The wardrobe.
The wardrobe that was big enough to hold two people.
She tapped Ian on his arm. “Over here.”
But she made sure she grabbed a sharp screwdriver while she had the chance.
Then, together, as the footsteps reached the top of the staircase, Alison opened the wardrobe door.
She looked over her shoulder as Ian climbed inside. Looked over at the top of the staircase.
The figure emerged.
Not much time left.
She clambered in. Closed the door as quickly as she could with her shaky hands.
And then she held her breath as she waited in the darkness and kept still.
Deadly still.
Screwdriver in hand at all times.
Her heart rac
ed. Sweat dripped down her face. But at least she was protected now. At least she was hidden. At least she was out of sight.
And at least she had the advantage of holding a screwdriver.
She could feel another thumping beside her, and she realised it was Ian. He was keeping still, too. Keeping his calm. Keeping his composure. That was good. That was how it had to be.
Alison watched through the crack in the wardrobe as the figure walked around the upper storey. He looked like he was really examining his surroundings, without a torch in sight, like he didn’t need light to see. He studied where the mattress was. Studied the tools scattered around the floor. He studied everything, carefully.
But the thing that struck Alison most was how slowly he was walking. Like he knew somebody was in here.
He looked up, then.
Right at the wardrobe.
Alison’s body went numb. She held her breath some more. Tightened her grip on the screwdriver even more.
And then he started walking towards the wardrobe.
His footsteps got closer. And Alison knew what she’d have to do. She knew how she’d have to act. And she had to be okay with that. She’d done it enough already. It was self-defence. It was protection.
She just didn’t know how things had reached such a state. First, Calvin and Ian going missing. Mike going missing. Then getting back here and finding Gina, Calvin, Kelsie, and Arya were gone all over again.
She thought about that extraction point in the distance. Thought about the future that she’d started to believe in. The hope she’d started to convince herself was possible; was achievable.
And all the while this man got closer to the wardrobe.
All the while, her grip tightened around the screwdriver.
He was right outside the wardrobe now. Right opposite the entrance. And all Alison could do was hold her ground. All she could do was prepare herself. All she could do was wait.
And then the man turned around and walked back towards the stairs.
Alison didn’t know what to think as she heard his footsteps disappear down the stairs. She didn’t know how to feel. Relief. Suspicion. But mostly a crashing sense that she’d got away with it. That both of them had got away with it.
She waited. Ian waited. They waited until the footsteps stopped searching the cabin. She waited until she was absolutely certain she was on her own.
And then she opened the wardrobe door and stepped out.
Ian joined her.
They made their way to the top of the stairs. Kept it quiet, just in case. Kept it cautious, just in case.
And when they started climbing down the stairs, Alison knew what it was time for.
She knew what had to follow.
“We can’t stick around here,” she said. “Not anymore. Not while we have people out there. People we care about. People with information.”
“And what’s this information?” a voice said.
Alison went still.
Because it wasn’t Ian’s voice.
It definitely wasn’t Ian.
She turned around.
Looked into the kitchen.
The four figures were standing there, looking right at her.
Knives in hand.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Gina felt the man throwing himself towards her, and she knew she was in big trouble.
He landed on her with a thud. His full bodyweight collapsed on top of her. His hands were around her neck, pulling her hair. And then they were rubbing their way down her body, down towards her thighs.
She kicked out. Punched. Tried to cry out, but his hands were covering her mouth.
And she found herself wanting to know where the hell Kelsie was; where the hell she’d got to.
Because she was worried about her.
And that summed this situation up.
She had a monster on top of her, preparing to do something she didn’t even want to think about, and she was thinking about Kelsie.
She felt the man’s hands tightening around her throat. She smelled his rancid breath. And she realised she had a choice here.
She could give in.
She could accept her fate.
She could revert to the weak little girl she used to be when she was back at home and just hope somebody would come and save her.
Or she could actually stand up for herself.
She could fight.
Because right now, as far as she saw it, she had no alternative.
So she launched her face at this man’s neck, and she bit.
She bit gently at first. Like there was something in her mind telling her to hold back; a warning inside her mind telling her to resist, to be cautious.
But then she ignored that warning call.
She bit down deeper.
Much deeper.
She heard the man gasping. Heard him groaning. And then she felt his skin break, tasted blood.
And it was disgusting. It was revolting.
But she had to keep on biting.
She had to keep on going.
The man grunted louder, then. And then as he realised the urgency of his situation, he started to hit out. Started to punch at Gina. Punch at her side.
But his hands were free from her neck. That was something that gave her an opportunity to get some air.
To get some composure.
He tried to pull back, but Gina just bit down even harder. And she could sense his urgency. She could sense that he knew if he pulled back, as much as he wanted to, he was losing a chunk of his neck. A damned big chunk at that.
So then he did something else.
Something that made Gina’s stomach turn.
Something that filled her with fear.
Fear at not knowing how to react. How to respond.
He curled his thumbs and started to dig them right into Gina’s eyes.
Alarm bells rang right away. The pain intensified. The aching built up. Gina didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know where to turn.
She could just feel the pressure in her eyes growing stronger.
She could feel the throbbing ache in her skull getting more and more intense.
But still she kept her teeth wrapped around his neck.
Still she dug her teeth down.
Harder.
Harder.
The man’s knuckles got deeper into her eyes. Her eyeballs felt on the verge of bursting. She could even feel them pulsing with her racing heartbeat, her system spiralling into overdrive.
And then when they felt on the brink, Gina did something.
The only thing she could.
She opened her mouth.
First, a rush of blood.
A rush of blood pooling out of the man’s neck, into her mouth, all over her face.
But it was the other thing she was looking for.
The other thing she was waiting for.
His thumbs loosened.
His grip released.
And that’s when she went in for the killer blow.
She launched herself forward.
No holding back now.
No resisting.
She elbowed the man, right in the neck, right where she’d bitten him.
He tumbled back.
Just a bit.
Just enough to give her a moment.
Give her a chance.
She leaned forward, then. Looked at his bleeding neck, which he was clutching. Looked at him struggling to breathe after her punch at his throat.
Then she snapped some thick bark from the tree, and she stabbed him right in the neck.
She saw his eyes widen in the moonlight. She saw him writhe. Saw him struggle.
She saw him looking up at her. Moving his lips. Like he was begging her. Begging for something.
She stood there and watched him die. And she didn’t feel any guilt. She mostly felt strong. Stronger than she’d ever felt. Stronger than her family would’ve allowed.
She’d changed.
If
she hadn’t changed, she’d be dead.
And there was no going back.
Not now.
She looked around. Looked at the woods. Looked all around for a sign of life; for a sign of something.
But there was nobody around.
Kelsie was gone.
She wanted to mope. She wanted to wallow in her losses.
But there was no time for that.
There was only time for forward action.
She took a deep breath, her eyes still aching, her neck still tight.
It was time to find Calvin.
It was time to find Kelsie.
It was time to find both of them.
No matter what it took.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“On your feet, Mike. What’s taking you so long?”
Mike looked up at Calvin as he lay there on the ground. The body of the man who had attacked him was by his side. He couldn’t wrap his head around this. Couldn’t comprehend it, and seemingly neither could Arya as she sat there, tilting her head, trying to understand as well as she could.
But the understanding was evading Mike, as it stood.
Because the last thing he knew, Calvin was at the cabin. He was at the cabin with the others.
And now he was out here.
Alone.
Which could only mean one thing…
“I mean, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” Calvin said. “A lot to fill you in on. You’ve missed a lot while you’ve been aw—”
Mike didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. Not anymore.
He just grabbed the knife he’d dropped earlier, and he threw himself at Calvin. The only thing on his mind was restraining him. The only thing on his mind was making sure he couldn’t get away. Not again.
“Hey,” Calvin said, holding out his hands, defending himself but remarkably not kicking back. Not punching back. Just taking the punches, letting them come.
Which had to make Mike wonder…
“Hey,” he said again, between punches. “I’ve not escaped. I’m—I’m not going anywhere. Seriously. You have to hear me out—”
“I don’t have to do a thing.”
“Gina,” he said. “She—she let me go. Me, her, Kelsie, Arya. We were—”
“I don’t believe you!”
Mike swung at him again. And this time, the contact with his jaw hurt. It crippled his knuckles. And he felt it. He felt the urge building up. The urge to get the revenge he needed. The revenge he deserved.