Out of the Darkness

by Tymber Dalton

  “Scared to death. They’ve got halters on, but I can’t get close enough to catch them. I don’t see anything wrong with them except they look terrified.”

  “Close the front gate. See if you can lock them into the ATV rental corral.”

  “Roger.”

  “And Scott? Don’t let any civilians in or out of the park.”

  “Out?”

  “You heard me. When you get the horses rounded up, wait for the sheriff’s office. Let them in, lock the gate behind them, and then meet us on the main road at the Coreys’ driveway.” He dropped his radio and read the tags on the dog’s collar, already knowing its identity.

  “Bob,” he said, tossing his keys to him, “go open the gun locker. Get the shotguns. Load them, and grab extra ammo.”

  “What?”

  “Do it!” he ordered, unable to pull his eyes from the name on the tags. “Get one for Scott, too.”

  He released the dog and grabbed the phone.

  * * * *

  Matt’s ribs hurt like hell. He might be able to make it out one of the basement windows, if he could find something to climb on. The stepladder wasn’t there. He looked around, then realized he could barely walk, much less climb. And he couldn’t move any of the furniture in his condition.

  Where was Sam? And Julie? What had Steve done to them?

  If he pulled himself up by the window ledge and stood on his toes, he could see out the window facing the front yard. It was agony, every movement an effort. The vehicles were still there.

  “Help!” he screamed.

  No one.

  He slid down the wall, fighting to stay conscious against the pain.

  * * * *

  Sami headed northwest, toward the campground and ranger headquarters.

  “Gonna make you pay, Sami.” George grunted behind her. She thought she might have pulled further ahead, but with the rain and wind she couldn’t tell. She didn’t dare look back.

  She recognized one of the trails and veered left, toward the ridge overlooking the lake and main pit. If she skirted around to the top, she could take a shortcut trail down the far end of the ridge, ford the small stream fed by the lake, and end up at the campground. It was too steep and crumbly for the horses, but possible on foot.

  Sami tripped over another root, falling face-first into the mud again. As she scrambled to her feet, she heard George’s triumphant cry behind her as he gained a few yards.

  She struggled up the ridge, realizing it was a lot steeper to climb on foot than on horseback. She spotted the ruins and used pine saplings for leverage to pull her way to the top.

  George quickly gained ground, practically running on all fours. “Gonna get you, Sami. Can’t wait to fuck ya, bitch!”

  Sami cried out, climbing harder. How could he move so fast when he was hurt so bad? Steve always was quick on his feet, and George apparently took full advantage of it. At the top of the ridge, she stumbled and almost lost her footing, tripping on the cable partially hidden in the thick muck.

  Nearly a hundred feet below, the lake lay waiting. Storm runoff had turned it creamy orange at the edges, with the center a dark, milky greenish tinge.

  George crested the top of the ridge and slowly advanced, cutting off her escape. He knew she was trapped.

  “Quit runnin’. It just makes me want to fuck you more.” He stopped, stumbled, and dropped to his knees as he rubbed his side. Sami spotted the blood on his shirt and realized at some point he’d yanked out his IV port. She waited for him to move. He looked down and fell still.

  A moment later he looked up, crying.

  Steve.

  “Sami, I love you,” he sobbed.

  She forced herself not to go to him, worried it was a trick. “Steve? I love you, too.” She’d tell George anything if it would get her out of this alive.

  Sami tried to maintain her footing. She stood on the cable, rain turning the clay dirt into slippery goo beneath her feet. About ten feet down the nearly vertical slope behind her, a small stand of pine saplings grew in the muck. Other than that, nothing to stop her from going into the lake.

  Sami forced herself to remain still despite her precarious footing. “Steve, you need to stop what you’re doing. You’re sick. You need help. Tell me what you did to Matt.”

  She knew where Julie was.

  He sobbed harder, clutching his side. “Oh God, Matt! I didn’t want to do it. George made me. I killed him. He told me I had to hit him. George kept showing me all these things. Oh, God, what have I done?”

  “Steve, you can stop this. Fight him!”

  He shook his head, the red blossom under his shirt rapidly spreading. He must have ripped out a bunch of stitches. “I can’t. I’ve tried, Sami, but he’s too strong. Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” He screamed, clutching his side. “Sami, please run! Run now!”

  Before she could, Steve’s face lifted, his mouth set into a fierce snarling grimace.

  “Gonna make you pay, bitch.”

  Steve was gone.

  George lunged.

  * * * *

  Tom slid the truck to a stop on the main road at the end of the Coreys’ driveway. Scott corralled the horses and admitted the deputies before joining them.

  “I don’t know what we’re going to find,” Tom said, handing Scott a shotgun. “Be prepared.” He hadn’t told the 911 dispatcher exactly what the problem was at the Corey house, but indicated there was a violent domestic dispute in progress.

  The truth was, he didn’t know exactly what the problem was. Only that he suspected there would be blood and bodies involved, if his intuition and past history served him correctly.

  Tom led the way. A small tree had blown down across the drive, but four of them were able to drag it far enough out of the way vehicles could pass.

  Lights shone in the house. When Tom killed the ignition he heard the diesel generator somewhere out back.

  Rain beat against his hat, splashing in cold rivulets along his neck and down his raincoat.

  “Hello? Mrs. Corey? Mr. Corey?”

  They advanced, weapons ready. The front door stood wide open. With guns drawn, the deputies took point and led the way, clearing the first floor.

  * * * *

  Matt realized he’d passed out again. He thought he heard footsteps upstairs, several people moving slowly. He crawled and strained to get to the window, hurting worse now than before.

  Two green Forestry trucks and three sheriff’s cruisers were parked in the front yard.

  “Help!” he screamed. “I’m down here! Help!”

  The men froze. Two deputies went outside to investigate while the rest of the men crept up the stairs. The deputy in the lead spotted Julie first and radioed for an ambulance.

  Scott tripped backward and saw the bathroom, making the toilet before he vomited.

  Outside, the deputies advanced around the house, guns drawn. They saw Matt through the basement window and one yelled, “Hands in the air where I can see them!”

  Matt tried to lift his hands, barely clearing the window sill. “Help, please! Steve locked me down here. You’ve got to save Sam and Julie, he’s going to kill them!”

  The deputy motioned to his partner, who returned to the house and unlocked the basement door. He kept his weapon trained on Matt until the other deputy got downstairs and cleared him.

  “It’s okay,” the deputy yelled from the basement. “Call an ambulance. He’s hurt pretty bad.”

  Matt slowly turned to face the deputy, closing his eyes when he saw the drawn weapon. He slid down the wall, in agony—his ribs, his head. “Please,” Matt gasped, “you’ve got to find them. Steve’s going to kill them!”

  The deputy holstered his gun and went to Matt. “What happened?”

  “Steve, he went crazy. He doped the iced tea, knocked us out. Sam, Julie—you’ve got to stop him before he hurts them!”

  The other deputy appeared at the top of the stairs, looking grim. “There’s a female DOA upstairs.” Then he saw Matt
’s anguished look.

  “No!” Matt sobbed, lurching unsteadily to his feet. The deputy tried to calm him, restrain him, then gave up and slung Matt’s arm around his shoulders and half carried him up the stairs to the kitchen.

  The second deputy took Matt’s other arm and they helped him to the couch. Matt wanted to go upstairs, but they wouldn’t let him.

  “There’s nothing you can do for her,” Tom Jenkins said, kneeling in front of him.

  Matt collapsed on the couch. “Oh God, he killed Sam.”

  Tom put out a hand and touched Matt’s arm. “It’s not Mrs. Corey.”

  Matt’s eyes flew open. “Julie?”

  “I don’t know her.”

  Matt pointed to Julie’s purse spilled on the floor at the base of the stairs. One of the deputies went through it and found her wallet.

  Matt felt sick hope. He didn’t want Julie to be dead, but please, please, not his Sam.

  The deputy found her ID and showed it to Tom Jenkins, who nodded. “That’s her. Julie Prescott.”

  * * * *

  Sami glanced behind her but held her ground. She offered a silent prayer and touched the black onyx pendant, hoping Julie was right about its protective powers.

  She’d need all the help she could get.

  George charged, stumbling, roaring with rage. Waiting until the absolute last second, Sami dove sideways off the ridge, launching herself at the stand of saplings. If she missed, she’d be in the lake and it wouldn’t matter.

  When she jumped, the cable sprang up out of the muck. She heard George’s angry roar as his foot tangled in it and he went sprawling down the steep embankment behind her.

  Sami snagged the closest sapling, screaming when it gave way in the loose, wet clay, and she lost her grip. She grabbed another. It held but she ripped three nails down to the quick.

  George tumbled after her and snaked out his hand, clutching her ankle.

  Sami almost lost her grip on the sapling as she thrashed her legs against George. The bark ripped at her palms. With her free foot, she tried to gain enough leverage in the crumbling ground to break free from his grasp and climb.

  George screamed, enraged. “Gonna gitcha’!”

  Sami felt the sapling’s roots start to give way in the saturated clay from their combined weight. She looked down, trying to pull her foot loose. George tried to latch on to her other leg with his free hand.

  Suddenly, he went still. She looked again.

  Steve.

  He met her gaze. “Sami,” he gasped, pleading. “Kick him!”

  Her heart tightened. Despite everything, she still loved her husband. “Steve, I can’t do that to you!”

  “You have to. I’m sorry, honey. About everything.”

  “I forgive you. It’s not your fault.” She sobbed. “I love you.”

  “It’s okay. I love you, too, babe. Fight him, or he’ll kill you!”

  As quick as he’d returned, Steve disappeared and George grinned. “That’s right. Quit fightin’, bitch.”

  Sami screamed, her rage and grief exploding as her heel connected with his forehead.

  Runoff from the ridge had filled her shoes with wet, slippery clay. Between the force of her kick and the muck, her shoe slid off and George went tumbling down the steep slope into the lake.

  He did not resurface.

  Sami didn’t know about George, but Steve couldn’t swim.

  The sapling dangerously shifted. She wasn’t out of danger yet. Despite the pain in her bleeding hands, Sami clawed her way up the slope, grabbed the cable at the top, and pulled herself to safety.

  The rain pounded down relentlessly. Once she knew she’d crawled far enough from the edge to not slip over again, she collapsed.

  * * * *

  Matt pushed the EMTs away. “If you want to treat me, fine, but I’m not going to the hospital until we find Sam!”

  Tom Jenkins tried to reason with him. “You aren’t safe here.”

  “I’m not safe with a SWAT team and a dozen fucking armed deputies?”

  The park entrances had been sealed. The five campers and four resident volunteer families evacuated into the cramped ranger station for safety, under armed guard. There was a lot of fence line Steve could duck through, but at least those people were safe until daylight broke and the storm passed and they could be evacuated. The park swarmed with deputies, highway patrol, forestry, and wildlife agents called in from the nearby Silver Lake and Ocala parks. A tracking team set up, but with the storm, there was some doubt as to how effective the dogs would be.

  Once they’d searched the property and determined Sami and Steve were not there, Tom sent Bob out to the barn for a bucket of feed and two lead ropes. Scott was still sick from the discovery of Julie’s body and needed a distraction.

  “Drive Bob to the main gate,” Tom told Scott. “Try to get a lead rope on each horse. He’ll ride in the back of the truck while you drive. Hopefully they’ll follow the feed. Get them back here and lock them in their barn.”

  They set off. At least one problem out of his hair. He didn’t want the horses breaking free, and they’d be safer in their own barn.

  “At least take me to Pog,” Matt pleaded. “Let me get him.”

  Tom nodded. “I can’t force you to go the hospital, but I wish you’d reconsider.” They hadn’t brought Julie’s body downstairs yet, and Tom didn’t want Matt around when they did. Matt already gave them a preliminary statement. There was no reason for him to be there.

  A deputy helped Tom load Matt into his truck. He carefully made his way up the sloppy main road to headquarters.

  Matt tried not to cry. The more time went by without any sign of Sam, the more likely it was she’d died.

  They’d better hope they find Steve before I do.

  Tom left Matt in the truck and went in for the dog. He almost had Pog to the truck when the dog lunged, barking wildly, yanking Tom off-balance and face-first into the muck. Pog pulled free and, leash dragging, took off through the campground into the woods.

  Matt could barely walk, but he damn sure wasn’t leaving Pog out there. He grabbed a flashlight from the truck’s dash and stumbled into the rainy gloom.

  “Pog!”

  “Matt, no!” Tom wiped mud from his face. He grabbed his radio and gun.

  “This is Jenkins. I need backup. We are two men on foot, ranger and civilian. We’re crossing Campground A and heading southeast toward Suicide Trailhead.”

  * * * *

  Scott and Bob were securing the horses in the barn when their radios went off. A deputy helping them heard the broadcast. “What’s that?”

  “Follow us.” Scott and Bob jumped into the truck and fishtailed down the muddy driveway, two deputies following. They found Tom’s truck parked outside headquarters.

  Bob grabbed his radio. “Boss, where you at?” Bob tried to keep his footing as he slogged through the muck without falling on his ass and dropping his radio or shotgun.

  “We’re on the far side of A, on the large trail that leads to the ridge south of Suicide. The dog broke loose. Matt Barry followed him. Repeat, we have a civilian out here with a dog, watch your fire.”

  The deputies called for backup and followed the rangers, all of them now caked to the knees with gooey orange clay and cursing the weather. Nearly dark, in a tropical storm, with a homicidal maniac out there, somewhere, on the loose.

  “This is fucking nuts,” Bob muttered.

  * * * *

  Tom Jenkins yelled, but Matt wasn’t leaving without Pog. The dog stayed just out of reach, bouncing back and forth. Finally, Matt didn’t think he could go any further.

  “Pog, please, come!”

  The dog returned to him and tugged at his shirt. Matt grabbed his leash. Pog pulled as Matt struggled to make it to the ridge.

  “Tom, this way!” Matt yelled.

  Tom finally caught up, and they heard the others behind them. “Are you out of your friggin’ mind? You’re going to get yourself killed!” />
  Pog pulled loose again and barked at the ranger before bounding up the slope.

  The ranger watched him. Pog returned, bouncing, back and forth, barking, repeating it several times, growing increasingly frantic.

  Matt sank to his knees, unable to continue. “Get him, please.”

  “Is that dog trained?”

  “He’s Sam’s baby. Maybe he’s trying to lead us to her.”

  Tom shouted to the others, who had almost reached them, and ordered Bob to stay with Matt.

  They struggled to follow the dog, who now stood at the top of the ridge. He barked furiously before disappearing over the top.

  * * * *

  With her initial adrenaline rush over, the crash hit and immobilized Sami, sending her into shock.

  Matt and Julie—dead. Her husband, also dead. Worse, their killer.

  A chill set in, and she didn’t care. She shivered as the rain pounded her, mixing with her tears. She faded in and out of consciousness. As dusk descended, she managed to roll onto her back and waited for whatever came next.

  Whatever that was, she hoped she’d be with Matt.

  She heard barking in the distance and tried to yell but couldn’t. She felt so cold! She couldn’t move.

  Suddenly the noise drew closer and Pog burst through a palmetto stand onto the ridge and ran back and forth, barking furiously. She thought she heard voices and tried to call out.

  Pog lay next to her, barking, shoving her with his nose, licking her face. As flashlight beams played across the top of the ridge, she gave in to the darkness.

  * * * *

  Bob helped Matt to his feet when they heard a shout from on top of the ridge. Bob’s radio crackled to life.

  “We found her! Tell him Mrs. Corey’s alive.”

  Matt sank to his knees in the mud and sobbed with relief.

  They persuaded Matt to return to headquarters. He was shivering and wet and borderline hypothermic. They had to use an ATV to carry Sami on a litter to the ambulance. When the ATV’s headlight broke through the darkness, Matt pulled away from the EMT trying to take his vital signs and stumbled across the road to meet it.