A helicopter. I looked at Bethany in panic, all my protective instincts taking hold.
They’d found us.
47
Bethany
CAL GRABBED HIS RIFLE and we raced outside. But by then, the helicopter was already descending, creating a downdraft that nearly knocked us off our feet. It was a huge, black thing as long as a bus. It rammed air into our lungs, making us choke and gasp, and our eyes were tearing. The noise was like someone hammering nails into our eardrums and it was even worse for the animals, who charged around in fear. Rufus pressed hard against my legs, his worried barks almost lost in the roar.
The helicopter touched down in the clearing in front of the cabin and almost before it had stopped moving, four guards had jumped out and pointed their guns at Cal, ordering him to drop his rifle. Cal stubbornly stood there, his rifle trained on them and his lips drawn back from his teeth in a snarl, until I grabbed his arm. “They’ll kill you!” I told him. Reluctantly, he lowered the muzzle and then dropped the rifle to the ground.
Only then did Ralavich climb from the helicopter. He looked around at the forest, then shook his head and spat on the ground. “Why the fuck would anyone want to live all the way out here?” He looked at me and I saw his face light up with that horrible, cruel lust.
Cal stepped protectively in front of me and the two men eyed each other. “That’s him?” muttered Cal.
I nodded, so scared I couldn’t speak.
Cal gave a low growl and took three steps forward. His whole body had gone tense and you could feel the primal rage rolling off him in waves. Each footstep seemed to shake the whole forest. The guards looked at each other uncertainly and the barrels of their guns wavered.
But Ralavich walked forward as well, and the two men didn’t stop until they were just a few feet apart. “You!” snapped Ralavich. “You’re the one who’s been hiding her!” Ralavich’s eyes flicked to me and then back to Cal and his face twisted in—
Oh God. Jealousy. My guts twisted. Ralavich thought I was his. The idea made me shudder.
And Cal recognized the look, too. His hands curled into fists. Rufus shot past me and ran to stand beside him, baring his teeth at Ralavich and making that chainsaw growl.
“I’m gonna give you one chance,” said Cal. His voice was low, but it carried. “You get back in that thing and fly off, right now, and I won’t come after you.”
For a second, Ralavich just blinked, incredulous. Then he gave a short, sharp laugh with no humor in it. “That’s your offer?”
“You should take it,” said Cal. His voice was shaking with rage. “Because if you try to take her from me, I’ll kill you.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” said Ralavich. “I’m not going to just take her. You’ve pissed me off enough that I’m going to do something much more entertaining.”
He turned and waved at the helicopter. More men climbed out, but they weren’t guards. They were the men from the mansion, eight of them. They were carrying rifles and they were dressed in camouflage gear. Some of them seemed to be half-drunk and they were grinning and excited, messing with their guns and fiddling with the unfamiliar camouflage clothes, like men on a—
Oh God. Oh no.
Ralavich grinned as he saw realization dawn. “That’s right, we’re going to have a hunt. And guess what we’re going to be hunting?”
I felt my knees weaken.
Ralavich’s grin grew wider at my terror. “And guess what we’re going to do to you when we catch you?”
I drew in a choked gasp. No. This couldn’t be happening. My brain was still struggling to process them, here, in our safe little haven in the center of the forest. And what he was describing: no, he couldn’t be serious…. I imagined them tracking me. Chasing me. Cornering me and pinning me down—
Ralavich looked at Cal. “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you’re there to watch.”
Cal roared and started forward, but suddenly every guard had his gun up and pointing at him. I ran to him and grappled him around the waist, pulling him back. “No! Cal, no!” But he wouldn’t move. His eyes were locked on Ralavich and he looked ready to tear his throat out.
“We’ll give you a ten-minute head start,” said Ralavich. He made a big show of checking the time on a gaudy gold wristwatch.
A head start. It suddenly all became real and I was so frightened I wanted to throw up. They were going to hunt us. They were going to hunt us like animals and rape me. I looked at Ralavich, aghast. Why? He had me. Why not just take me back to the mansion?
Then I saw what was in his eyes and I understood. This was how he’d break me. He was going to toy with me like a cat with a mouse, let me run just so he could catch me, so he could show me just how powerless I really was.
“You’re wasting time,” drawled Ralavich lazily. “Closer to nine minutes, now.”
Cal lunged forward again, seething, but I grabbed his arm. “We have to go,” I told him. “Cal, we have to go!”
He was so angry, it took several seconds before I got him to look at me. Then he nodded, scowled at Ralavich one last time, and grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the cabin.
Inside, he started grabbing things from shelves and throwing them into two backpacks: food, water, a first-aid kit, a tarpaulin. He pulled something small and slender from the back of a shelf: his passport. The guards watched over us to make sure we didn’t try to take any weapons.
Cal threw me one of the backpacks and we hurried outside. Rufus came with us, but Cal crouched down and ruffled the fur on his head. “You have to stay here,” he told Rufus. “It’s too dangerous for you.” Rufus whined but reluctantly sat down just outside the door, doing it as slowly as possible in the hope we’d change our minds.
“Eight minutes,” said Ralavich from the doorway.
Cal took my hand.
And we ran.
48
Ralavich
I WANDERED around the smallholding, snorting in disbelief at the pathetic life the man lived. No power, no phone, scratching a living from the earth like a peasant, living within a dozen feet of animals. What does she see in him?
There was a boom of gunfire and everyone jumped. One of the men from the mansion, a senator from Chicago, raised his hands apologetically and looked sheepish. He was carrying both a rifle and a shotgun and the shotgun had gone off accidentally while he’d been showing it to a friend. About half the men were like him, city dwellers who’d barely ever held a gun. But they didn’t have to be experts to run down a couple of unarmed civilians. And the other men were hunters, rich guys from places like Montana and Wyoming, who spent the hunting season bagging game. They’d soon find them. And when they did….
I raised my voice so they could all hear. “Shoot him if you have to, but don’t hurt her. And if he’s still alive, make him watch while you have your fun with her.”
A ripple of excitement went through the men. This was even better than what they got at the mansion. Maybe, if this went well, Cairns could turn this into a regular event and pay me a royalty for thinking of it.
I checked my watch, counting off the seconds. I could feel my own pulse racing, too. There was something primal about it, the thrill of the hunt. And the knowledge that soon, that curvy beauty would be broken and submissive to my will.
“Time’s up,” I announced. “Let’s go.”
49
Bethany
WE RAN. It was a beautiful day and the forest was still and quiet. It must have looked to someone watching like we were running from invisible demons, sprinting headlong through the trees with nothing behind us. But we knew we had to put as much distance between us and them as we could. How long had it been? Three minutes, four? How long until they came after us?
We were heading uphill, the slope gradually getting steeper. “What’s the plan?” I asked breathlessly.
“Stay ahead of them,” said Cal. “Keep heading north. Get to the border.”
It seemed impossible. The border was at least a hundred
miles away.
He must have seen the doubt in my eyes because he grabbed my hand and squeezed. “I’m getting you to Canada,” he told me, his voice iron-hard. “And I’m coming with you.”
I squeezed back.
A joyous whoop went up behind us, echoing through the trees. They were coming. Already?! I looked back down the slope and my heart started to pound. It felt like we’d barely moved!
We ran harder but the slope was still getting steeper and soon we were scrambling, hanging onto trunks and branches to haul ourselves up the hill. Each time we glanced behind us, we could see the trees moving as the men advanced through the forest. The ones who were out of shape were a fair way behind but the younger, fitter ones were right on our tails.
Cal knew the forest and could lead us on the fastest, easiest route. And I was used to long hikes, now, and could keep up with him. But as the forest thinned out, we hit a problem. We had to keep to cover, sticking to the trees so that they didn’t catch sight of us and open fire, whereas they could just move in straight lines across open ground. And where we had to move stealthily, in case they saw a bush move and took a shot at it, they could make as much noise as they liked.
Second by second, the hunters crept closer.
A sick fear spread through me, chilling me from the inside out, and it got worse with each excited yell and drunken cheer from behind us. It was the power imbalance, the feeling of them being all-powerful and us being...nothing. Just prey. However fast we ran, they’d catch us. However well we hid, they’d find us.
The panic set in and I started to make mistakes, stepping on twigs I knew to avoid, dislodging loose rocks that went rolling down the hillside, giving away our position. I tried to move faster and that just made it worse. They’re going to catch us. They’re going to catch us and then— I knew Cal would die before he let them touch me. I’m going to get him killed. He’s going to get shot and it’s my fault—
Cal stopped and turned to me, his big hands stroking down my upper arms. “Stop,” he said softly.
I stared at him, gulping in air in huge panic breaths. Stop? But they’re coming!
“You can do this,” he told me. He wasn’t even out of breath.
I shook my head.
“Yes,” he told me, “you can.” And his voice took on that tone that left no room for argument. “You’re braver than you think. Tougher than you think. You got away from these bastards once. You’re going to do it again.” Those cornflower blue eyes looked right into mine and—
He believed in me.
I swallowed and nodded. The panic didn’t disappear but my breathing eased a little.
He took my hand and pulled me into a run.
We pushed hard and a half-hour later, we finally made it to the top of the hill. Then the blessed relief for my aching legs of going downhill, not uphill, and at last, it felt like we were putting some distance between us and them. The sun was getting low in the sky and the trees threw out long shadows to help us. I started to think that maybe, maybe, we could make it.
But then the hunters started to crest the hill. They came down the other side with horrible speed: they were fresh, they’d spent the day lounging around at the mansion whereas we’d hiked all the way to Jacques’s and back. Our pace started to slow. That sick fear started to grow in my stomach again. They were going to catch us.
We reached a clearing and Cal stopped and turned to me. By now, even he was panting. “We have to stop,” he told me.
“What?!”
“It’s our only chance. Hide and let them go past. Once we’re behind them, we’ll have the advantage.”
I stared at him, then turned to look behind us. I could hear them crashing through the undergrowth, only a minute or two behind us. Every instinct was telling me to run. But I trusted him. I nodded.
He looked around the clearing. There was a gentle, bowl-shaped depression off to one side and he led me over to it. He quickly scooped out the dead leaves that had drifted into the depression, covered it with a tarpaulin from his backpack, and then pushed the leaves back over it. I quickly got the idea and helped, camouflaging the tarp until it was invisible. Then we got down on our bellies and slithered under it.
It was pitch black. Twigs were poking into me in about a hundred places but before I could fidget and get comfortable, I heard footsteps approaching. Next to me, Cal went utterly still and I tried to do the same.
The scrunch of boots on dried leaves. More than one man. A group of them, moving together. Our little hollow was off to the side of the clearing. Their instinct would be to walk right through the middle...right? I pressed my cheek against the ground and tried to be calm, to think of nothing, to become stone.
The footsteps got louder and louder. I was pressed so tight to the ground, I could feel the vibrations right through my body. Closer and closer. God, they were heading straight for us! I could feel myself tensing, my shoulder blades hunching together. What if they noticed something? Was a boot showing? Had I pulled all my hair under the tarp? I held my breath, waiting for the rush of air and light as the tarp was pulled off us—
In the darkness, Cal found my hand with his and squeezed—
Two sets of footsteps...no, three. One of them passing so close I could have reached out and touched him. He was right by my feet, then my legs. He was almost past….
Then his boot came down right on my hand.
50
Bethany
THE PAIN rocketed up my arm: agonizing, nerve-shredding. I wanted to scream, to curse, to twist and buck...but I couldn’t. Because if I so much as twitched, it was all over. So I lay there silently howling, waiting for him to take his next step. Come on! Come on! His foot lifted—
And then settled back down, even heavier than before. I felt bones grind and fresh pain washed over me, so strong I wanted to be sick. He’d stopped. He’d stopped, and he was standing on my hand.
I still had hold of Cal’s hand and I squeezed it so hard it must have been painful. It was the only outlet I had. He took it without flinching and squeezed back. You can do this.
But I wasn’t sure I could. The hunter had started to chat with his friends, who must have stopped too. And he was moving. I’d never realized until then just how much we move, even when we’re standing still. Every tiny little motion he made caused him to shift his weight around, his foot lifting and pressing and rocking from side to side. Stand still, I silently begged. Please stand still!
I heard a lighter flick open and then shut. He was smoking, and chatting with his buddies, twisting this way and that to look at them. The pain was throbbing through me in great waves of purple and black, now. I could feel the sweat rolling down my face and I was sucking in quick, shuddering breaths through my nose.
“I figure we’re almost on ‘em,” said the man. “And when we get ‘em…shit, did you see the tits on that girl?” He let out a long, low whistle and the other men laughed. And then, as they smoked, they talked about what they wanted to do to me, and which of them would be first. I screwed my eyes tight and tried to shut it out. Next to me, I could feel Cal’s body go hard with anger, ready to throw off the tarp and launch himself at them, and I squeezed his hand in panic: don’t. He stayed tense but didn’t move, holding himself back...just.
The man finished his cigarette and moved off. His foot lifted from my hand and there was a brief instant of relief followed by burning, searing pain as all the blood rushed back into the bruised flesh. They were still too close to risk a sound. I let the pain come out as hot, silent tears.
At last, their footsteps receded. Then Cal was moving, flowing effortlessly up from under the tarp and creeping silently forward, following the hunters into the lengthening shadows. Now he was behind them.
And hunting was what Cal did.
51
Cal
TRACKING HIM was easy. He was an amateur, the sort of guy who sits in his Washington office all year, then goes to the woods and sprays a thousand rounds in a day in the hope th
at he’ll get lucky and hit something and can pose with the body of a deer for a photo. I could smell the stink of his cologne and the cigarette he’d just smoked, and he was making enough noise that I could have followed him with my eyes closed.
The problem was me. This wasn’t like stalking an animal or even like stalking an enemy, in combat. This was personal. My body was shaking with rage and I had to force myself to be calm, to go slow, because what I wanted to do was to run at him and tear him apart. Lying there, hearing what he wanted to do to Bethany, was the hardest thing I’d ever done.
Well, now he’d pay. They all would.
I waited until he lagged behind his buddies by a few steps. Then I clapped a hand over his mouth and with my other arm choked him around the throat until he went limp. I lowered him to the ground without a sound and his friends never even noticed. I picked up his rifle and let out a long, slow sigh of satisfaction. Let’s see you try and take her from me now, you bastards.
I crept back to Bethany and hugged her tight. Then I gently examined her injured hand. There was a lot of bruising and it looked like one of the fingers was broken, but she’d heal with treatment. I got out the first aid kit and strapped the broken finger to the one next to it. Then I took her face in my hands and just looked at her.
The sun was just sinking below the horizon and the last rays painted her black hair with amber and gold. Those big brown eyes looked up at me, still wet with tears but lit up with such steely determination. I couldn’t imagine how much pain she must have been in. She was the bravest person I’d ever met. I bent down and kissed her. It was only supposed to be a quick kiss: we didn’t have time for anything else. But as soon as my lips met hers, I was lost and I had to force myself to stop.
Deep Woods Page 17