Trail of Misery

by N A Broadley

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Bobby seethed with anger. His baby brother was dead, and the monster that killed him would pay dearly. He pushed his way through the door and slammed it behind him. He’d dropped Harris off with the instruction to pull the men together and have them ready to meet within the hour so they could lay plans to leave. He thought an early morning start would be the best option; that way, his men would have time to prepare for what might turn into several day trips. He didn’t care if he had to track Billy’s killer to the end of the earth, he would find them, and their screams would be heard far and wide. His mind spun with ideas of how they would pay as he strutted jerkily back and forth through the house. His moves were frantic and frenzied as his state of mind became more and more agitated.

  No, he wouldn’t kill them right away. That was too good for them. He’d make whoever did this suffer for a long, long time. And he was becoming very good at inflicting suffering. Walking over to his desk, he opened the drawer and pulled out a small baggie of white powder. Slipping a small line on the dark, oak top of the desk, he rolled up a one dollar bill and placed it in one nostril then snorted deeply. The burn made his eyes water, then glass over as the cocaine began working its magic. Slumping in the chair, he leaned back and closed his eyes. A contented sigh passed through his thin lips.

  Billy had been his sidekick, his shotgun bro. All his life, Bobby looked out for his baby brother. And the pain kicked him square in the gut. His eyes filled with tears, and he angrily wiped them away. Yeah, the kid wasn’t the brightest pumpkin in the patch, often making stupid decisions that landed him in hot water, but Bobby always bailed him out. He always protected him.

  Before the event hit, Billy had been a gangly, clumsy kid. No girlfriend, no real friends to speak of. He was shy, introverted, and unsure of himself. But after the event, Bobby watched him grow and blossom. His confidence had exploded as he took one woman after another and satiated his twisted needs, sometimes at the rate of two or three times a day. Bobby taught him how to shoot a gun, how to ride a horse, how to be a man. The crooked little boy grin disappeared with the boy he’d been, and a cruel and sardonic twist took its place. His younger brother was feared and respected.

  Growing up with parents as they had, if they hadn’t looked out for each other, then neither would have survived. For someone to kill him, to slit his throat, and leave him on the side of the trail for the animals to eat was just too much for Bobby’s mind, and he sank to his knees as grief and anger washed over him.

  A soft hand on his shoulder penetrated his pain and turning; he pulled Tamara into him. Like an infant, he cried on her shoulder as she held him tight. The smile on her face was cold as the winter snow just starting to melt. She gazed out the window, all the while, her hands rubbing his back.

  She hated this man, hated him more than she’d ever hated anyone before. She’d go to her grave cursing him. But, she’d take him with her. Not only did he use her as his punching bag and mattress, but she also was the maid and the cook. And as the cook, well, she just loved the extra little touches she put into his food.

  Slowly he’d been feeling the effects of those little touches. Cramping, diarrhea, bouts of blurred vision, rapid heartbeat. He’d complained to her about it, and she convinced him it was from the drugs and the heavy drinking and cigarettes, but she knew what it was.

  Her secret weapon would send him painfully to his grave eventually, not fast enough for her satisfaction but every day she knew she was killing him just a little bit more and this made what he did to her bearable. By adding just a few scant drops of Belladonna into his food, his morning coffee, his beer at night, she was slowly poisoning him. Her smile widened.

  The men grumbled softly, the sound reverberating through the small living room, and Bobby shouted for them to simmer the hell down. He drew in a deep breath. Silence, as thick as fog, settled over the room. His shoulders tensed as he launched into his plan.

  “Be prepared to stay gone for a few days. We are going to find who killed my brother!” he spat angrily. “And then we are gonna have us a little old-fashioned justice! No one gets away with hurting our brothers, no one!”

  Harris stood up and looked at Bobby. He didn’t like the idea of the entire group going after one man and leaving their interests unprotected. He said this to Bobby, suggesting he take only a few men to hunt down Billy’s killer.

  Bobby turned to him and scowled angrily, his eyes glaring.

  “I don’t care what you think! Sit down and shut up!” He watched as Harris, red-faced, sat back down. There were times he hated Bobby, and this was one of those times.

  “We are going in two groups. Harris will be leading one, and I’ll be leading the other,” he explained. “My group will stick to the AT and surrounding towns, Harris, you and your boys will be taking the side trails and skirting above us. If this person is anywhere in the area, we will find him.” With that set, he went on to instruct the men where and when to meet up the next morning. At meeting end, as everyone filtered out the door into the darkness, Bobby grabbed Harris’s arm and pulled him aside. How dare his second in command question him? It was time to show Harris, who was boss of this shit show.

  He swung hard, and a feeling of satisfaction rushed through him as he felt the bite of his knuckles land squarely on Harris’s jaw, knocking him back. He stood nose to nose with him and screamed into his face, spittle splattering Harris’s skin with every word. He held a knife to his throat, applying just enough pressure to make Harris’s eyes widen in fear.

  “Do you wanna get cut asshole? Do ya?”

  Harris shook his head in fear as Bobby’s eyes stared deep into his.

  “Then you never, ever disrespect me again in front of the men! Do I make myself clear?”

  Harris nodded again. “Crystal. It won’t happen again, boss,” he said as he cowered under Bobby’s hateful, murderous stare.

  “Get the hell out of my sight before I kill you just for the hilly hell fun of it!” he spat as he drew the knife away and shoved Harris toward the door.

  Breathing heavily to calm himself, he yelled for Tamara to bring him a beer. His plan was a good one, and it irked the shit out of him that Harris disagreed. How dare he do that? What did that asshole know anyway? He’d been nothing but a two-bit punk before Bobby pulled him into the gang and gave him the status of second in command. And this was how he repaid him? Seething anger coursed through his body, and he clenched his fists to keep his hands from shaking.

  The cowardly shit! The more he thought of it, the angrier he became. He should have sliced his throat. He should have just let his blade sink deep into the pasty white skin and watched as the blood flowed over it. It would have served as a lesson to others never to cross him, never to question his authority. And he’d be rid of the backstabbing coward once and for all.

  With a shaking hand, he pulled his knife from its leather sheath and rubbed his thumb lightly across the blade, watching as a thin line of blood appeared. Lifting his thumb to his mouth, he sucked gently and tasted the metallic, salty thickness of blood as it coated his tongue. He was in a murderous kind of mood. And he needed to hurt someone.

  Tamara grabbed the beer from the fridge and popped the top. Glancing over her shoulder to see if the coast was clear, she added a generous dose of poison. Pasting a smile on her face, she walked in and handed it to Bobby.

  “Here, ya go,” she said softly. She saw the dark anger on his face and took a step back. He was in a mood, and this usually meant a hard night for her.

  “Bobby? What’s wrong?” she asked quietly. He glared at her coldly and held up his knife.

  “I’m in the mood to kill someone sweetheart,” he said then smiled a bitter smile. Tamara lowered her eyes and began to pray. And strangely enough, it was a prayer for him to kill her and be done with it finally. She wanted out of this life. She wanted to go home.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Spike savored every bite of the rabbit stew. Beth did a good job
flavoring it up with a few herbs. The broth was rich and soothing, and as he sipped the last few drops from his bowl, he sighed with contentment.

  Sarah and Beth had long turned in for the night. He and Brian sat quietly by the fire, watching it burn low as they talked. He filled Brian in on how he came to be up here on the AT, how he was following and hunting the three men, Brian and Beth killed and lastly, how he knew about Bobby and his plans to hunt Brian, Sarah and Beth down and make them pay for killing Billy, his younger brother. It was a long story, but Brian listened intently to every word the man said.

  His hunger satiated, he put the cup bowl on the ground and stared across the fire at Brian. He picked up a rock and slowly tossed it from hand to hand. He was tired, and he felt that tiredness in every muscle of his body. He watched, mesmerized, as the light and shadows played off of Brian’s arms, high lighting then darkening a series of tattoos. He knew those tats. He’d seen many in his years as a cop. The man had done time.

  “So what prison was you in?”

  Brian raised his eyes to Spikes and grinned. He wondered when this former cop would ask.

  “Southern State Correctional in Springfield, Vermont.” Spike raised his eyebrows. He was impressed. That was a Federal Prison.

  “What was your sentence?”

  Brian smiled coldly at the dance that began between them and wondered how long it would take for Spike to connect the dots.

  “Life.”

  “Whew man! That’s rough,” Spike said softly. Life in a federal prison meant only one thing. This man was one badass dude. The cop-killing, murdering kind of badass dude.

  “How many?”

  “More than I can count,” Brian replied.

  Spike thought for a moment, pondering what he’d said.

  “What is your last name, Brian?”

  “Pittman.”

  He felt his stomach clench with horror, and he sucked in a deep breath before letting it out in a whoosh. He looked at Brian with a wary expression on his face. The man across from him was once considered the most dangerous of men in the Tri-State area. His list of victims was long and bloody.

  “Brian, the Butcher,” he muttered. “They took you down in Boston, right?”

  “Yup! Nice to make your acquaintance,” Brian said, then laughed as he saw his reputation was still intact. Yes, he was a killer. Dubbed Brian the Butcher by the media after he’d left a score of bodies in his wake. So many bodies that even he lost count. But not one of the men he killed hadn’t deserved it.

  “I followed your trial. I don’t know of a cop in the northeast that hadn’t,” Spike said softly.

  “Don’t believe everything you hear. Sometimes when justice can’t be served through our so-called system, then it has to be served by someone like me,” Brian replied. He’d make no excuses, and he’d not explain his actions nor apologize for what he’d done.

  “Just don’t kill me in my sleep you rat bastard,” Spike teased then laughed. Him, a cop, sworn to uphold the law, trying to save the ass of a hardcore criminal from other hardcore criminals. It was a bloody laughable Greek tragedy. Sighing tiredly, he shot a grin across the fire at Brian.

  “Umm, not that I don’t trust you, man, which by the way I don’t, but I think I’ll take the first watch if you don’t mind.”

  Brian grinned in reply. He found himself liking this man that sat across from him. At least he had a bit of a sense of humor. He hoped he wouldn’t have to one day kill him.

  They talked long into the night, and Spike filled him in on the best route of travel. Filled him in on his grand-fathers compound/farm and that they would find safe sanctuary there. Brian agreed and listened intently. The man had a good head on his shoulders.

  “So, I think we should leave as soon as the first light hits. Bobby and his men have horses, so they will have the advantage of crossing the miles faster than we can on foot. But, if we stick to side trails and bushwhacking, it’ll be harder for them to follow. You, being the elusive bastard you are, will be covering our tracks as we go,” Spike said.

  Brian laughed softly. Yes, he was elusive, the military taught him that. And how to erase any evidence so that even the best trackers wouldn’t be able to follow. Nodding in agreement, he had to admit; Spike had a good plan. At least it would give them a fighting chance.

  “These guys, how bad are they?” Brian asked.

  Spike shook his head, and his eyes hardened as images of his wife and children flitting across his mind. In normal times, these punks would be nothing to worry about, but now that there were no laws to stop them?

  “Well, let’s say this. Those two ladies? If Bobby and his men get their hands on them? Then death would be a blessing. You’d be better off mercy killing them before that happens. And if things go bad, I hope to God you do,” he whispered as he thought of what they did to his family. Those animals massacred his wife. They did unspeakable, unimaginable things to her before they’d killed her. The thought crashed into his heart like a sledgehammer, driving pain deep into gut.

  “Then it sounds like we’d just better not let that happen,” Brian growled. He’d met men like this Bobby before. Rabid dogs who needed putting down. He pulled his knife from its sheath and grabbed his stone from the side pocket of his pack. Slowly, with a steady hand, he ran the blade across the stone. Spike watched as the light from the fire danced off of the metal of the blade, and a chill ran down his spine. He’d heard horror stories of what Brian did with a knife. Stories that made his skin crawl with revulsion. Turning his eyes away, he said softly,

  “We won’t.” And Brian could tell by the set of his jaw, the pain in his eyes that Spike would stay true to his word.

  As Spike took the first watch, he stoked the fire and settled in for a long four hours. Jessie curled up beside him, and he ran his hand through her fur as his mind drifted. He felt the calm rhythm of her breathing as he absently stroked her back and sides. The black sky was filled with a carpet of stars and the moon, receding in its fullness cast an eerie glow into the darkness that surrounded him. He listened to the night sounds around him. The breaking of branches as deer, bear and other nocturnal creatures stirred about.

  The air smelled sharply of pine and wood smoke. If it hadn’t been for the horror of the past few days, he thought he might truly enjoy this night. It was too a long time since he’d been camping. This peacefulness, this contentedness was just a cruel illusion. The world had changed. His world had changed. There would be no more fun camping trips with his wife and kids. There would be no more pizza’s and movies as the four of them cuddled up on the couch, him on one end, the kids in the middle and his wife on the other end with a bowl of popcorn between them. That life was gone. It would never be back, and this thought coldly shattered any illusions he had.

  He sighed as he scratched at the many black fly bites on his neck. They itched like holy hell. He hated spring just for the fact that it seemed to give birth to all the biting and stinging things. And he was finding out quickly, all those biting and stinging things weren’t just the bothersome insects. A lot of them were men and women who crawled out of the winters darkness and cold, birthing to a new season of death and destruction.

  A cop and a killer. Two women and a dog. An event that changed his entire world. His life had taken so many twists and turns these past months that it left him wondering. Why he was even still alive and still breathing through this nightmare. Everything he’d loved, everything that mattered was gone. What was left for him out there?

  Revenge… That’s what was left. He’d help Brian, Sarah and Beth get to a safer place. Then his life’s mission, his only purpose, would be to exact his revenge on those who’d given reign to the men that took his everything.

  A pain so deep and still surrounded his heart as dark and thick as the smoke rising from the campfire. Bitter and acrid, cloying, and consuming. Leaning back against the log he was using as a backrest, he closed his eyes and let his emotions sweep through him. Although alive he felt a she
ll of the man he’d once been. Hollowed out with only the bitter taste of sorrow that threatened to shatter him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  After a quick breakfast of leftover rabbit stew, the group started over the rough terrain of deer trails and rocky outcrops. Spike led them toward the ridgeline. A place where he would have the advantage of clear view for miles around. Sarah fell in behind him, followed by Beth and then lastly; Brian brought up the rear.

  Within an hour of traveling the sun peeked up over the mountains and Beth could already tell the day was going to be hot. Sweat rolled down her back, soaking her shirt, and her breath sounded wheezy as she struggled against the rough trail.

  Pushing ahead trying to keep up the pace, they burned miles under their hot feet. Through tangled underbrush that tripped them up, over rocky outcrops that tore into the soles of their boots and drove pain deep into their legs. They were fighting the black flies, fighting the horse flies. Fighting for every breath as they climbed higher and higher.

  “We will need to refill our water bottles,” she hollered, stopping on the trail and placing her hands on her knees as she bent to catch her breath. Ahead, Spike turned and nodded.

  “There’s a stream not too much further ahead. We can fill our water bottles there.”

  Looking over her shoulder, she noticed that Brian fell quite a bit behind, and she motioned for everyone to stop. His cough, although better, was still there and his breathing wasn’t one hundred percent yet. When he caught up, he gave her a quizzical look.

  “Why’d you stop?”

  “Because I was waiting for you to catch up.”

  “Don’t. You keep pushing ahead. I’ll be right behind you guys. I’m covering our trail,” he explained between panting breaths as he leaned against a tree.

  “We’re pushing too hard. You won’t be able to keep this pace up, Brian. “