The Last Girl: A gripping psychological thriller with a killer twist

by Nick Twist

  “Don’t even think about it!”

  I’m already running down the hill again.

  “Stop it, or I’ll shoot.”

  The cocking sound of the gun stops me in my tracks.

  “Hands up, bitch.”

  Slowly, I turn around, both hands in the air. Hecker is pointing a silver gun, the one I carried on my way here.

  “Remember it?” He waves the gun. His head tilts downward, but his eyes are up, piercing into my soul. “You thought you could turn things around.”

  “What do you mean? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m talking about Daddy’s gun.”

  “Daddy?”

  “Take off your clothes.”

  I take a step back, hands still up. I flirt with the thought of running away but he isn’t bluffing about shooting me.

  “There’s nowhere to go,” he says. “You’re all mine tonight.”

  “The other soldiers will soon be here.”

  “You think they will stop me?” He cranes his head up and laughs. “They’ll watch, and take their turns.”

  I take advantage of that fraction of a second during his egotistical mistake and run while he is looking up. I duck while escaping, in case he shoots.

  “Fucking whore!”

  A shot sounds near my ears. I stumble and fall, thinking I’m shot. I’m not. I pick myself up again and keep running aimlessly. His footsteps speed up behind me.

  “Come back or I’ll shoot.”

  “You’re a coward!” I scream, taking a sharp left without thinking. I find myself digging deeper into the forest again, not sure where the shore is. I keep running, unable to form a coherent thought. The withdrawals in my body weaken me. It’s not only dark, but I doubt I have the strength to keep running. I need my dose now.

  In a blink of an eye, I’m hit with Hecker’s gun on my back. It’s puzzling how he found me. Maybe he knows the forest by heart. I drop to my knees and then fall on my stomach. The pain and shock tear me apart. My daughter. Did I just kill her?

  Hecker pants like a hungry dog behind me. My head is flooded with dark scenarios. I don’t care about what happens to me. It’s all about the life inside of me. A surge of adrenalin gives me strength to roll on my back and instantly kick him in the balls.

  He screams like a little girl, dropping the gun. It gleams in the dark. I pick it up.

  He stumbles backward, holding his crotch in his hands. The gun feels so good in my hand. It feels like an old friend. I don’t know why, but it’s a much better feeling than when I first gripped it.

  “How do I get to the submarine?” I stand over Hecker.

  “Go to hell.”

  Instead of shooting him, I kick him in the balls again. He groans in pain and calls me bitch, whore, and slut. I wait for him to catch his breath.

  “I’ll keep kicking you until you bleed from your mouth.”

  Though in pain, he sneers at me. “I guess I’m not good enough for you, eh?”

  My eye twitches when he says that. “What?”

  “You want Daddy.” He grins.

  A Jeep screeches nearby. Soldiers shout at each other. Torches slice through the night. I can’t stay here any longer.

  I kneel down and point the gun to Hecker’s balls. “I will shoot your nuts if you don’t tell me how to get to the submarine.”

  “You’ll never save your daughter.” He chokes on a laugh. “You’re a lowlife, white-trash, cocaine addict. A worthless slut. Never a mother.”

  It’s crazy how words can hurt. The pain seeps to my forefinger. I don’t hesitate and pull the trigger.

  Hecker doesn’t moan or scream. The bullet puts him into an eternal sleep. The shot comes out muffled, but it will still attract the soldiers.

  I hear Ashlyn’s dead voice in my head now. Run!

  92

  Mercy Medical Center, New York

  Floyd glanced at August, wondering why such a dark story was her favorite. He didn’t mind Juliane and Joan’s stories, but Ashlyn’s was heading south.

  “So some Nazi fanatics hide in a small town, have their leader marry a woman, and gangbang her daughters,” Floyd recited, “It reminds of Colonia, the small town in South America. It’s always been operated by Nazis who tortured its people.”

  “Ashlyn mentions the comparison in the book.”

  “Terrible things happen in the absence of law.”

  “You mean in the absence of humanity,” Dr. Hope said. “None of the town members ever complained or talked to the press.”

  “I imagine we’re talking about a town with one thousand or so inhabitants?”

  “Give or take, but that wasn’t just it. The father had other town citizens either bribed or killed.”

  “Why go this far?”

  “Because Ashlyn wasn’t the only one. They gang-raped so many other girls in town.”

  Floyd’s face crumpled. “How many?”

  “How many dead or how many burned?”

  “Burned?”

  “Ashlyn’s mother owned the town’s one and only gas station. The father and his friends raped teenage girls in an abandoned garage in the back of the station, among dirt, old tires, and mechanic’s tools.”

  “What does this have to do with burning girls?”

  “One time, a girl died during their acts. With plenty of gas and oil around, and being Nazis, they came up with the idea of a ‘furnace.’”

  Floyd closed his eyes. Not only to block the morbid images in his mind’s eye, but to prevent tears from falling. “The girls, were they Jews?”

  “That would be a clichéd fictional story,” Dr. Hope said. “No, they weren’t. The Nazi sect simply defiled races other than theirs. They built their own fantasy concentration camp in a small island on American ground.”

  “Just like that.”

  “Just like that. Pure evil. No big conspiracy behind it.”

  “I’ve always tried to reason why evil was committed in this world. The sad truth is that most of the times there is no explanation. People did horrible shit. As simple as that,” Floyd still kept his eyes shut. “Please tell me there is a light at the end of this dark tunnel of a story.”

  “Not yet,” Dr. Hope said. “I haven’t told you about the cocaine yet.”

  “You did. The mother was an addict. The absent father was a drug dealer. The stepfather supplied the mother with her fixes.”

  “True, but I didn’t tell about the role the cocaine played in the acts.”

  “Don’t.”

  “You know?”

  “I’ve looked the devil in the eye, Dr. Hope,” Floyd said. “I assume they used the cocaine to lure the girls in.”

  “Every teenager in the town was an addict.” Dr. Hope said. “They turned the girls into crackheads so they’d be their sluts.”

  93

  I’m running in circles, escaping the lights from the Jeeps. They can’t drive into the forest, so they’ve arranged the vehicles to surround it. Now the light hunts me in every possible direction. The only way out is to occasionally hide behind a tree or crouch beneath a few bushes.

  The gun in my hand is useless at the moment. I need an invisibility cloak to escape. I duck again and start to crawl. The light can’t reach the lower parts behind the bushes. My attempt to follow the breeze from the ocean is futile. The pain from my withdrawals is killing me. My sense of smell is weakening.

  I keep crawling on all fours, promising my daughter a lie. There is no way I can make it, but I won’t give in, not yet.

  “June!” Dr. Suffolk calls for me.

  I hear him clearly. He is nearby.

  “I’m not here to hurt you.”

  I used to trust him, but not after he betrayed me. He tried to convince me I don’t have a daughter. I struggle to stay quiet.

  “Listen to me,” he says. “I’m alone.”

  Another lie.

  “The soldiers don’t know I’m here,” he says. “They can’t hear me, but not for long. So
on they’ll walk into the forest, looking for you.”

  I keep crawling. A light hue in the distant sky seems like a reflection from the ocean.

  “You shouldn’t have killed Hecker.”

  I stop and hide behind a tree, waiting for a beam of light to pass.

  “I’m not with them,” Dr. Suffolk says. “I can explain the things I told you.”

  How can you explain telling me I’ve never left my room?

  “I’m not here for what you did. I’m here for your dose.”

  His words pull my legs to a stop. My heart tries to oppose me, but my body needs the fix. If I get my hands on this syringe, it’ll help me reach the submarine. How long do I have before I collapse?

  “You need it,” he says. “I’m a doctor. All I care about is my patient’s health.”

  I rub my shoulders. The nasty withdrawals feel like electricity pulsing from inside out. I want to tear off my own flesh to make it stop.

  “Think about it,” Dr. Suffolk says. “Your daughter will not survive if you don’t take the shot.”

  “You said my daughter is dead.” Words spurt out of my mouth.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “Just show me where you are, and I’ll give you the dose.”

  “I have a gun. I will kill you if you trick me."

  “Deal. Raise a hand and I’ll throw the syringe your way. You know how to shoot it. You’ve done it a million times before.”

  “I won’t see it in the dark. Keep walking. I'll find you.”

  “Okay.”

  He crosses my line of vision. I tell him to stop. I’m behind him, crouched on the ground. “Give it to me. Don’t dare look behind you.”

  “As you wish.” He stretches out his hand behind his back.

  I snatch it, finger on the trigger. I’m not quite sure how to inject myself. I just dip the needle into my left arm. I moan then begin to push…

  Dr. Suffolk sighs, sounding exceptionally relieved.

  I stop myself from pushing the syringe. “You little piece of shit.” I pull it out. “That’s not my dose. You were going to sedate me.”

  “Of course not. Please take it.”

  “Turn around!” I regret shouting and risking the soldiers hearing me.

  He does.

  “Hands on your head.”

  He complies, but looks disappointed. His plan didn’t work.

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “I’m not doing anything,” he says irritably.

  “What did you mean when you said I’m famous?” I point the gun at him, still on all fours, ready to escape.

  “Did I say that?”

  “You asked me in the clinic. I asked you why think that. You said you couldn’t remember. I thought you were being nice.”

  “You think so?” He lets his guard down. The son of a bitch smirks..

  “When you convinced me I’ve been a prisoner in my room for three years, I thought you were trying to make me remember.”

  “And now?” He attempts to step forward.

  “Back off,” I’m about to pull the trigger. “I have a feeling you knew me from long ago.”

  He rubs a boulder on the ground with his foot. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

  “Don’t try to stall until the soldiers come.”

  “You can’t escape. Can’t you understand?”

  “Just fucking tell me or I will kill you like Hecker.”

  “I was twenty-six when we first met,” his eyes meet mine. “You were fourteen.”

  A chill shivers through my left arm. I close my eyes. “Motherfucker. You did my abortion?”

  His response comes with a kick in my face. My eyes flip open. I’ve dropped the gun, and he is going for it. What I did with Hecker is happening to me now.

  I crawl like a maniac after him and climb like a monkey on his back. He straightens up with the gun in his hand.

  “Let go of me.” He grunts.

  I repeatedly slap him on the back of his head and knee his sides, not letting go of him. He swings sideways but keeps his balance, trying to plow his elbow into my face. My slaps ram down on his ears. It pains him the most. I don’t stop slapping the son of bitch over and over again. I chain his waist with my legs. He eventually decides to run backward into a tree. If I let him, I will be squeezed to death.

  The slaps on his ears keep coming until we almost reach the tree. Finally, he loses balance and wobbles on one leg. I grip his free hand and try to snatch the gun, but he holds on to it.

  Still dizzy, he manages to balance on two legs again, but I don’t let go of him.

  “Stop it!” a soldier shouts.

  “Kill her!” Dr. Suffolk orders him.

  I bite his ear, wishing I could get the gun before the soldier arrives.

  Too late.

  The soldier aims his machine gun at me while I’m gripping Dr. Suffolk’s hand. I freeze, and so does Dr. Suffolk.

  “Kill her,” Dr. Suffolk demands.

  “I’ll do it if you get out of the way, doctor.”

  “Is that it?” Dr. Suffolk slams his elbow back into my jaw in an attempt to get rid of me.

  Blood spatters my lips. Before I fall backward, I manage to tighten my grip on his hand, reaching for his forefinger, and then… I pull.

  The shot fires right at the soldier, who reflexively shoots back.

  Dr. Suffolk screams. I fall back and roll to my side before he drops down on me. He is dead, so is the soldier, a few feet away.

  94

  Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean

  Dixon grew impatient in the passenger seat inside the chopper. No amount of technology would help seeing through the weather outside. Most of his men below had left. He couldn’t. Floyd’s orders were to find Jack and Irene, as they must have had a reason to dive farther away.

  “I bet they’re dead by now,” he told his pilot.

  “Even if they aren’t,” the pilot said, holding tight, “this weather will kill us.”

  “I can’t,” Dixon mumbled. “He’ll report it. I have bills to pay. My ex-wife is grabbing me by the balls.”

  “But we’re going to die up here.”

  Dixon rubbed his forehead. “Are you sure we can’t contact the foolish couple?”

  “They’re out of reach. Last signal showed they dove west, which is outside of our perimeter.”

  Dixon checked the map. “What were they thinking? The last girl could not have made it this far.”

  “Permission to fly back, sir,” the pilot said. “It’s now or never. I have children, too.”

  “Give me a few minutes. No one wants to leave this place as much as I do.” Dixon sighed. “Floyd, is going to crush me if I leave like that.” He tongued his cheek from inside, “I have an idea.”

  95

  I stumble on my way down the hill, following that light in the horizon. I hope I’m not chasing illusions.

  Rolling down, I reflect on having killed three men in the last few minutes. It makes me wonder: did I kill more people in the past? I feel no remorse whatsoever.

  A few consecutive bumps in the road slow me down. I didn’t have time to pick up the gun after Dr. Suffolk and the soldier died. I ball myself into a fetal position, trying to protect my child. How long have I been pregnant?

  The lights zigzag in the sky all around me, but I’m not stopping. The gravity of the slope downward slope helps. It’s like I’m running down, mostly pulled by gravity. The light from the soldiers is actually a plus. I can see ahead of me.

  Every few steps I spasm in wicked ways. It’s as if I’m momentarily possessed or have no control over my limbs. Withdrawals. So little time before I collapse.

  “June!” A loudspeaker calls behind me.

  I pretend I don’t hear it and keep running. No need to listen to their threats, or worse, their seductive reasoning to bring me back. My head has been fucked with, too many times.

  The light in the distance shows a glittery surface. It’s the ocean. Moonlight refl
ects on water. I’m not chasing illusions.

  My legs speed up. Once I reach the shore, I’ll look for the submarine.

  Suddenly the world darkens all around. It’s as if someone pulled the plug. I stop in my tracks, or I’ll bump into a tree or a rock. The moonlight in the distance is much fainter now. I need a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. Is there a power outage? I can’t hear the speakers anymore.

  I don’t like this. Something is wrong. Slowly, I step forward, not as fast as I wish though. There’s hardly much to guide me in the dark.

  My breath is loud. My chest is chugging like a locomotive. I better not listen to it and pretend I’m all fine. I hear someone moving in the dark. Footsteps. Soldiers. All over the place.

  Shit, I have to run now. It doesn’t matter what I bump into.

  The glare of a flashlight stops me. I shield my eyes with the back of my hand.

  “Oh, hello,” a soldiers says.

  Other soldiers laugh. At least ten of them. They fooled me.

  “You.”

  The soldiers laugh again. The one in front says, “We want you.”

  If I can only find an escape route to my left or right. There is no way I can kill all of them, not without a gun. The soldiers approach me, slowly. Some of them rub their hands. Others rub their chins and laugh again. A few in the back clap their hands to a slow, sickening tempo of fear.

  I try to breathe as slow as I can, which is incredibly fast already. Footsteps come in every direction, even from behind me.

  This is it. There is no way out of this. I won’t die without a fight though. I pat my stomach and say, “I’m sorry.”

  96

  Mercy Medical Center, New York

  Floyd’s phone rang. It was the call he’d been waiting for. Probably Dixon had news about the last girl. Still, Floyd couldn’t pick up. He needed a moment. Ashlyn Ward’s story rendered him physically immobile for a moment.

  “Your phone, Floyd,” Dr. Hope said.