I shudder when I finally get to my destination. I’ve walked for thirty minutes, and I’ve reevaluated my decision many times over.
It’s the end of the road. Whatever the house hides, this is what I’ve come to find.
It seems abandoned. It’s a small cabin built out of roughly carved logs. There’s no light, no smoke out of the chimney, and no indication anyone lives here. I curse. Maybe I’m not on the right path anyway? Until I see the footsteps in the mud on the yard. Two sets. Small and large. They’re everywhere. A shudder runs through me.
They’re here!
But where? I haven’t seen any tire tracks, and there’s no sign of a car. I look through a window and see a kitchen counter with some plates and glasses on it, when I try the front door it’s locked and there’s no stirring from within. I frown and glance out at the surrounding terrain, but the naked forest is silent and non-telling, void of human life. The treetops bend and wisp in the ever-increasing wind. I walk to the back of the house to see if I can get any clues. There is a back door, surprisingly enough, but it’s locked too. A little lost, I turn the corner again and stop on the same spot I started. I had a multitude of scenarios in my head, but this was for some reason never one of them.
Kerry
The shadows are getting longer, and a new chill is entering the air. The wind increases, dusk is falling and I sense something’s not right. I continue forward, carrying my load, and wave the feeling off as guilt over abandoning Cece. The walk is heavier than before, and I have to stop more and more often to catch my breath. There’s just one more hill to climb and then it’s downward from there, but I have to stop and lay down my burden for a moment. I gasp for air and my right side hurts. Pressing my knuckles into the side of my waist I feel my ribs and realize how thin I’ve become. I have to eat more. No wonder I have less and less energy with every month. I lose weight, muscle weight. I wave the thought off to the recesses of my mind. I have more important things to think of. Cece’s alone.
Clenching my teeth, I struggle forward. I have an urge to hurry. Maybe she’s awake? Maybe it’s a mom’s instinct? She can’t get anywhere, and she can’t reach anything dangerous. But she’ll be scared. I swallow the lump in my throat. I’ll never, ever leave her again. It was a stupid, rushed decision. I know she sleeps for more than an hour, most likely two, at this time of day, and I’ve only been gone about an hour. But no matter how I try, sense and reason can’t silence the feeling of imminent doom.
When I’m finally at the top, I stop for a moment again. From here I can overlook our house and a good part of the terrain. Everything seems fine, at least on the outside. And she is asleep. It’s just me being stupid. Exhaling with relief, I start descending and I’m halfway down the hill when I see a movement in the shadows behind the trees by the left corner of the house. I stop and squint.
My heart stutters. There’s someone standing on the driveway. Hidden from the house, but not from where I’m standing. Ray again?
No.
Not Ray.
A tall man. Tresses of dark hair wisps around a face I can’t make out. I strain to see clearer, my heart pounding hard now, my breaths short and labored. I think I know before I know.
Christian.
It’s Christian Russo!
I almost faint. My knees go weak. The déjà vu is all too real and the nightmares I’ve had for so many months, years, are suddenly real. I can’t move. I can’t think. Cece’s in the cabin. He’s outside, between my daughter and me, and I’m up here unable to even breathe, let alone run down there and take him out to protect my child. I’ll die if I face him and then he’ll hurt my baby. Cece’s in danger if I run away and just leave her to him. And either way I’ll never see her again.
Oh, God!
I knew it. I knew he would catch up with us one day no matter what I did. I always knew we wouldn’t be safe until… until he no longer exists. With my own prophecies finally fulfilled, I drop to my knees and hide behind a large bush. Why did I leave her alone? I might as well have killed her. Killed us both.
Cecilia!
Maybe that’s what I should have done anyway? That’s what I’ve been thinking during my darkest hours when she was smaller, before I found a life within this new non-life—that we would have been better off dead. Maybe it would be easier to just go to him and let him do it? Let him end the endless nightmares and the fear. I see his gun before me as I saw it when he flicked the cold gleaming metal in front of me that night. The night when he shredded the last pieces of my innocence.
No!
This is not about me, or what I want! I need to fight! Not for me, but for Cece. She deserves a life, a good life. She doesn’t deserve to know of him or to see him. Not even once.
She deserves my fight.
She deserves my sacrifice.
I’m not sure it’s a well thought-over decision, but I decide to kill him. I take a large enough log and clutch it in my hands. It’s doable. He’s just a man. He’s not invincible. I know because I beat him once.
He’s still not trying to enter the house, and for that I’m eternally grateful. I pray I’ll make it. I have to walk in a wide circle to get close enough behind him. The last ten feet or so I’ll have to leap across the open, and then it will be over. I tell myself, over and over, I will make it as I keep him in sight while moving through the decaying forest. The leaves beneath my feet are wet and soft and my steps don’t make a sound.
As he moves, I stop and curse, crouching behind some bushes. What’s he doing? He paces back and forth outside our house before he suddenly disappears. I hold my breath. I don’t think. I don’t hate. I don’t feel. One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand… He’s gone behind the house for fifty seconds before he reappears as suddenly as he disappeared. I’m not sure if I’ve taken even one breath the whole time he was gone. I strain to see if he’s got something in his arms or not.
He doesn’t.
Good.
I’m so focused on the task I don’t even have time to be afraid. I lie flat on my belly, pressed to the wet ground, and wait as he glances around him. When he turns, I move. My legs tense and with the log in the air I dash across the open and slam it with full force against his head. In the last second, he moves and screams. His arms flail as he tries to catch my arm. I jerk to the side and try to hit him again, but he knocks it out of my hands. He grabs my coat sleeve and a seam rips as I throw myself back, slipping in the wetness, falling to the ground.
He approaches me with a wicked smirk on his handsome face, his steps measured. When he’s within reach, I kick out and hit his knee. I scramble backward and dart to my feet, already running as I hear a roar from much too close behind. I run for my life, away from the mayhem, away from the devil himself.
“Ker!”
I hear him roar my name and then the eerie echo rolling off the mountains surrounding us.
‘Eerr—eerr—eerr—er—er—er—er.’
Nononononono!
Christian
I sense a movement, and spin around just in time to partially dodge what comes flying through the air. My ear takes a hit, and it feels as if it’s being ripped off. The attacker slams the object at my head again, but I’m better prepared this time and almost tear off the arm of the much smaller person who slips and falls with a thud followed by a whimper.
It’s a woman. With all the clothes she’s wearing I only see a nose and ferociously dark eyes that glisten with hate.
Oh my fucking God, it’s—
Kerry.
I can’t help but grin as I approach her.
She kicks out and hits my knee so hard I almost fall. It feels as if something breaks inside it. A wave of agony shoots through me, and I roar in pain as she turns and flees.
“Ker!” I roar at her rapidly disappearing form.
I’m not letting her get away this time!
When I get my bearings right, she’s already halfway to the tree line. Initially, I gain on her, but my knee hurts i
mmensely. Nauseous from the pain, I decide to go back and wait for her in the cabin instead. She’ll be back, because I have a hunch she’s not alone. That there’s something of such value in there she will risk everything for it.
Limping, I take a route with less climbing. A flash of silver catches my attention. It’s a SUV. I spend a few minutes making sure she won’t be going anywhere with it anytime soon.
Now all I can do is tend to my wounds and wait for her to come to me.
Chapter 22
Christian
The lock is shit. An easy, old, rusty mechanism. It’s a piece of cake to break once I’ve decided to. It snaps open with just the right push.
Once inside I almost fall to the floor, exhausted, drenched in sweat. Trembling from the pain, and the numbing chill, I shred my wet and dirty clothes all over the place as I slam the door shut behind me. The cabin is warm but I’m still so cold it’ll take a long time before I’ll start feeling my toes again. I’m still stunned. I hurt all over and wince as I move, but at the same time I’m giddy. I haven’t thought about how I’d react if, or when, I finally caught up with her again.
Them.
It’s them.
It’s absolutely quiet inside, and I’m guessing my hunch was wrong. There’s no life in here. I’m figuring the kid is with her somewhere out there in the quickly darkening and hostile surroundings. I can only hope Kerry isn’t too fucking out of her mind and tries to leave by foot. It’s a really long way back to any sort of civilization.
Surprisingly enough, I’m not particularly angry with her for attacking me. I’d have done the same in her position, and I can’t hold it against her. Actually, I’m so fucking pleased with myself right now for following my instincts and finding they were right, that I’ll let her violent outburst slip. I limp to the kitchen and pour some cold water in a glass, downing it eagerly. Finding ice in the freezer, I wrap a fistful in a kitchen towel before I roll up the left leg of my pants. I swallow hard as I look at my swollen knee that’s beginning to discolor in bluish and red nuances.
Fuck!
That’d be some ligaments gone to hell. I wrap the ice around it and secure it, tying another towel around the first, groaning from the pain as I pull the knot tight. I have goosebumps all over already. It’s not like I need the extra chill.
I stiffen and listen, my fingers still on the knot. I thought I heard something. If they’re coming here soon, I’d better not just stand here more or less defenseless. I pull down my pant leg in a rush, yanking the fabric to get it past the knee. Then I hear it again. A soft cat-like mewling somewhere in the proximity. An animal?
No way.
I’m out of the kitchen in no time to locate the source. My heart pounds so hard I can barely breathe. If that’s what I think it is... Stopping in my tracks, I can barely believe what I’m seeing and I forget about my pain, about Kerry, and fighting, about where we are and why we are here.
In the room behind the main room, in the miniature bedroom, stands an old-fashioned crib of wood and in it lays a little girl with thick dark hair and warm brown eyes.
My eyes.
Kerry
My throat aches from the tears I don’t allow, and my chest burns, but I keep running. I’m leaving Cece behind, but I’m of no use to her if I’m dead, and maybe, just maybe he doesn’t know she’s in there. He’s getting closer but I know the terrain better and as I get to the steep slope I start sliding-running-sliding on the wet, slippery ground, faster and faster until I can’t hear him anymore. I turn my head to look when my foot gets stuck and I fall on my face with an intense pain from my ankle radiating up along my left leg. It hurts so much I want to scream. Sweat drips off my forehead, and I clench my teeth not to make any sounds as I fight to get loose. I expect a killing blow any moment. Finally, I still and listen. Everything is quiet. Too quiet. All the little hairs on my back stand straight up. He’s not here. He’s gone back.
Cecilia!
God! I have to get back now!
It takes forever to limp all the way back to the house. My ankle hurts badly, and every step is agonizing, but I push forward with only one thought in my adrenaline-drenched brain.
Save Cecilia.
There’s no doubt in my mind he’s already found her, and in my worst moments I see before me how he’s taken her and left. Without a trace. And that I’ll never find out what happened to my daughter. I sob loudly, every breath hitching on the intake. I have no doubt he is capable of anything and everything and I expect the worst.
Crouching by the same bush I hid behind before I attacked him, I study my home. It’s almost completely dark outside now. The lights are on inside and I see tell-tale signs of a break-in in the faint light over my front door. I wait breathlessly for something, anything, to happen. At first there’s no way of telling if he’s still there or not, but then I see a shadow across the opposite wall in the living room and I start trembling, finally allowing some of my fear and a flood of relief to break through.
He’s still here. Meaning she’s still here too.
I have to assume she’s still alive. I have no other choice. I crawl closer, knowing I’m invisible in the dark unless he suddenly decides to open the door. I don’t hear anything. Why isn’t she crying?
What have you done? You’re her father! She’s just a little girl!
My heart beats so hard it almost makes me faint. I have to get inside. Now. Tiptoeing to the back of the house I find that the back door is very much closed, as it should be, but I grit my teeth, nonetheless. It’s impossible to enter through the main door, because he will have to be virtually hiding in the bedroom or the bathroom not to see me, and I can’t count on that. I stand in the cold darkness, puffs of white appearing and disappearing before my eyes, and I want to scream. I want to step up on the porch outside the front door, my door, and scream at him to show himself, to let me have my daughter, and then to just, just… disappear.
Forever.
But of course I don’t.
I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never been so scared before in my life. My life is nothing compared to Cece’s and I’ll do anything… anything…
Then I know. The kitchen window can be opened from the outside. I have been meaning to fix it, but it hasn’t been done yet. I just need… I finger my pocket and haul up my keys. Barely breathing, I listen to whatever might come from the inside as I sneak up under the window and start to carve into the lower frame to try to get a grip and get it to swing open. There’s a slight squeak as it does and I still completely, the seconds dragging on, but nothing happens. Then I pull it open further, the warmer air from the inside feels like a caress against my skin as it rushes out through the opening.
I listen.
I hear nothing.
What’s going on?
The feeling of urgency almost chokes me. I try to heave myself up, but my thick jacket gets caught and I shed it quickly, letting it fall to the ground. Then I realize my boots will give me away once I’m inside and kick them off too before I lift my body the rest of the way, dropping first my good foot and then the other to the kitchen floor, pulling the window closed behind me. I can’t have him feel the draft and become suspicious.
Needing something to overpower him with, some leverage, I grab the largest knife out of the collection by the stove. No other is missing, but I have no doubt he brought his own.
God!
I’m stupid!
What if he has a gun? What if he has my shotgun? Why didn’t I bring it with me when I went out?
Squeezing my fingers tightly around the shaft, my hand slick with sweat, I slide across the floor on sock clad feet. I avoid the loose floorboard and stop by the door, pressing myself against the wall as I try not to breathe so hard.
I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
Every pore exudes it and it pounds within me with every heartbeat. All I see is how I kill him—have to kill him—snatch Cecilia from his sinister grip, and rush to the car never to lo
ok back again.
The handle of the knife almost slips out of my sweaty palm and my hand shakes so much that I have to press it to my chest for a moment. I wipe off my palm on my shirt and grip the knife tightly again.
I have to. I must. If I don’t, he’ll kill us. I’m scared. One part of me, deep inside, wonders if I can really kill a human being.
I feel more than hear a faint rustle of fabric in the main room and, having a sense of direction now, I make up my mind. I dash through the room and bury the knife deep in the shoulder of Christian who sits on the floor right next to my child.
She lives!
She cries. Terrified.
I would too with him next to me.
But she’s alive!
I throw myself toward the front door and grab the gun that, miraculously enough, still hangs there. But as I move, he moves too, and I realize I’ve made one fatal error as he grabs Cecilia and pulls her into his lap with his good arm, clutching her tightly to his chest. I point the gun at him, them, and try to aim at his head. I tremble so badly I can’t keep the barrel still.
“No, let her go,” I sob.
“I don’t think so,” he counters with a grimace, his upper lip curled with anger.
“Please!” I cry.
It’s not until now that I get to see him clearly for the first time. He’s been but a blur of limbs and hair, but now…
I barely recognize him.
Oh, I do. It’s him. The same high cheekbones, the intensely dark eyes, and the roguish features of his face that still come together as an almost flawless beauty, but his hair is longer; it falls to his shoulders in unruly tresses. There’s blood on his left cheek and in his hair on the same side, and at his left shoulder where my bread knife still protrudes. He’s pale, his face a mask of focus and rage and his eyes flare dangerously as they meet mine.
Promising me death.
Redemption: Savage Duet: Part One Page 18