“HAWOO!” he howled like a lone hungry wolf, a wild carnivorous beast on the hunting trail. “This is my home, Abigail. There’s nowhere to run.” His words echoed through the forest. He was close.
She didn’t dare look back. Every time her pace slowed, her mind conjured up images of his long, sharp fingernails scraping into her back. Up ahead, there was nothing but a frosty mass of pine trees, encompassed by a cloudy white haze above and below. She glanced up at the sky, which had turned a shade of gray, preceding a brewing storm or impending nightfall. She presumed she was somewhere in a remote area near the Lake of the Woods but was clueless regarding direction or precise location. Even if she escaped, it was unlikely that she would survive the night outdoors. But she would worry about that later. All that mattered now was to get away from this freak of nature.
She navigated her way through the dense pine trees, hurdling over any broken branches or logs, maintaining a breakneck speed. In her peripheral vision, a featherless red head and the pale beak of a turkey vulture appeared, hissing at a corpse. She glanced in its direction, almost losing her footing. The corpse was human.
Could this be Robert or Jonah?
Her pace slowed, tempted to turn toward the flaying feast. A gust of wind whistled between the pines, rustling the branches, needles swaying in the misty air.
Another howl rang through the forest, banishing her temptation to investigate the carnivorous meal.
Keep going. It’s not them!
For her sanity, but more for her survival, she convinced herself that they were alive and well. The dangerous icy wind picked up, shrieking through the forest, snowflakes falling obliquely out of the darkening sky. A wintry night descended with thickening layers of darkness. The snow-streaked pine trees were indistinguishable from each other. Was she running in a circle? Would she stumble upon the torture cabin blocking her path? Either way, she had to keep running.
She widened her strides, feet crunching into the snow. It would not be long before a bed of icy cotton blanketed the ground. Her breathing was heavy and shallow. She was on her last legs, determined to run until she dropped into the snow and into the clutches of death embraced by nature.
Nightfall hampered her progress through the dense forest. The snow underfoot built up, her feet sinking into the slushy ice like a pillow. Both her legs were numbing right up to her kneecaps. It was as if she was running on peg legs. The powerful winds caused a cacophony of rustling branches and broken twigs. She could no longer discern any sounds of pursuit as he hadn’t howled or called out to her in a few hours. This thought alone rallied her through the blistering wintry storm ripping through the forest without reprieve. She thought of her baby boy and pushed on.
“Mama’s coming!”
She screamed out loud, engraving the stakes in her mind. Her voice was inaudible, suppressed by the howling wind. She panicked, realizing that if she couldn’t hear herself, then there was no chance she could hear him. In this frosty dark haze, he could be within touching distance, and she wouldn’t even know it.
Abbieeeeeeeee.
Whispers of her name echoed from her right. She stumbled toward the voice, palming away obstructing branches.
Abbieeeeeeeee.
This time it came from her left. A moment later, from behind and in front. It was as if the trees themselves were pleading her name. It sounded like the child she had left behind in the cell. She covered her ears and trod on through the thick snow, trying to block out the horrors of her ordeal. Her entire body was numbing from the paralyzing cold, little pricks of pain washing over her limbs. A warm fluid trickled down her thighs, soothing her frozen skin. It felt great to feel some warmth, but her mind understood the immediate warning signals. She could no longer control her bladder. Her limbs were numbing fast, and her heart pumped less blood, depriving her brain of oxygen and causing hallucinations. Hypothermia settled in like a giant wave charging toward the shore. For a moment, she craved the black abyss—at least it was warm. No. Not even in this beleaguered state did she want to return to the monster’s chambers. She battled on, the snow knee deep, it wouldn’t be long now.
“I tried. I’m so sorry, Robert.”
CHAPTER 12
Abbie leaned against the frozen pine, sobbing, overcome by pain and self-pity. Was she a victim of circumstance? A random, freak abduction by a psychopath with multiple personalities? The next question that flashed through her mind was the typical Why me? The most natural human response to cope with getting dealt a lousy hand in life. Either way, it didn’t matter anymore. It was time to make peace with the fact that she would never see her family again. She cried with so much grief that she almost expected her soul to escape her broken body, into the realms of eternity—a new existence, where Abigail Blake would be no more. She let her heavy eyelids close and her head droop onto her chest. It was peaceful, dark, and warm. She was dying and welcomed the transition. It would like the black abyss but permanent and without the pain.
A yellow glow flashed through the black abyss. She paid no attention to it at first, relishing the warmth and her state of low consciousness. Then, again, a yellow beam illuminated her closed pupils. She could feel the snowflakes pattering the tip of her nose, the light awakening her senses. She dragged her eyelids open. In the distance, a flashlight beamed between the pines, scanning the area. The sky brightened, showing that daybreak was on the horizon.
How long was I out for? I can’t believe I’m still alive.
She turned and stumbled through the thick branches blocking her way, brushing aside the pine needles with her hands.
How did he find me?
Fear kept her pushing through the greenish scrub until she broke clear of the dense greenery. She had pushed so hard that she collapsed onto the soft snow as if it was a king-size bed with crisp cotton white sheets. Her eyes rolled in their sockets, and everything blurred. She clawed her way one inch at a time, shoveling the snow with her bare hands. She prayed to God that he would not get to her before she died. Freedom and death were synonymous in her situation. She kept clawing away at the snow, both hands operating as makeshift shovels and knees as leverage. She struggled to bend her fingers, most of her extremities resembling fruit popsicles. It was more like paddling the snow away than shoveling. She stretched out her right hand, expecting it to sink into the deep snow. Instead, it landed on a rocky surface. It was still icy, but not enough snow to shovel. The surface was hard and distinctly different. She lifted her face from the snow like a newborn lying on its stomach and glanced ahead.
“Road!” she croaked in utter disbelief. A long, snaking road cut through the dense pine trees. She used her elbows and knees to crawl onto the slushy tarmac. It took everything in her to stand up, wobbling like a drug addict on a binge. A passing car would be her ticket to freedom. Her heart raced once more, as she started down the white and black path. She looked over her shoulder to see if he was coming. The yellow beam of his flashlight flittered through the greenery less than a hundred yards away. She couldn’t understand how he had tracked her so efficiently. Footsteps alone would not be enough as the heavy snow fell like confetti and would cover most of the prints before he got to them. She studied the route she had just crawled. Traces of blood smeared the snow like the floor of an abattoir. Blood still poured from her slashed thigh, tainting the pure snow, leaving a distinct trail. He was right. There was no escape. No hunter could hope for a more obvious trail. She had painted the way for him, and he was a gleeful participant, taking the time to let this torturous scenario play out. He could have even returned home and changed into proper winter clothes and boots. No need to rush, he’d probably thought. If he pursued her in the red evening dress, he would find himself on the verge of death, like her, and that wouldn’t be much fun, would it? Yes, it all made sense to her now, and it deflated her hope of survival. He had it all figured out, and he would pick up the pace knowing she drifted toward a road. She tr
acked the yellow beam bouncing in the darkness, rushing in her direction. He was running and gaining ground fast. She glanced across the road and found more dense forestry. Fear told her to run, to keep moving, never to give up. To run until the sheer effort killed her; an honorable way to go. She would not let him defile her body. She took a few short steps toward the middle of the tarmac and gathered one last effort. The next time she fell, it would be her final frozen resting place.
The blackish sky turned a lighter shade, smeared with marshmallow-like snowflakes blanketing the icy earth. She would not see daybreak. A burning flame of heat spread through her body like a wildfire, warm blood rushing from her core to her extremities. The reflexive contraction of blood vessels in her anatomy shut down, causing intense fiery flashes. Disoriented and boiling up, she stripped off her bloody hospital gown and threw it into the raging wind. It carried through the night sky like an empty paper bag. With outstretched arms, she let the icy wind caress her frail, bony frame—a pleasant sensation, the first one in a long time. She no longer understood why she was there or where she was going. After a few deep breaths, she relished the moment, resigned to her fate without knowledge, her body relying on instincts triggered by the severe hypothermia—a skeletal ghost swaying in the dark wintry night. She lowered her eyes from the sky to the long, snaking road. From a distance, a pair of luminous tiger-like eyes stared back at her, eating up the road between them. Two LED halo rings on each side illuminated the darkness. To the left of the road, she saw his flashlight bursting through the greenery. It was irrelevant to her now as she was just an observer, watching without comprehension. There was no fear, no sadness, no self-pity, and no thoughts of her family. She was a frozen animal driven by pure instinct. The halo beams illuminated the entire road and blinded her vision. She covered her eyes by burying them into her forearm. For a moment, the bright lights had triggered her consciousness.
“Help me.”
Her voice was no louder than a hamster’s squeak. At any moment, the car would be upon her, and so would he. She kept her eyes closed, blinded by the light, raising both her arms in front of her and straightening her palms upwards to face the oncoming car.
“Stop, please.”
She could sense him in the wings, observing the situation unravel.
BANG!
Her naked body dropped onto the tarmac with a thud, face down. She could hear the birds shrieking and scattering through the forest. She gasped, choking for air, blood spilling from her mouth, tainting the icy road a shade of coppery red. An enormous pool of blood formed around her upper torso.
Robert, Jonah, I love you!
She closed her eyes and welcomed the black abyss.
CHAPTER 13
Beep. Beep. Beep.
A machine hummed in the background. A bright yellow light illuminated the darkness as if the sun burned from within the night, the pitch-black existence replaced by an orangey white haze. His latex-gloved hand forced her eyelids open, the light blinding. She twisted her head to the side, away from the intrusive hand and the light. The experience was all too familiar. Unfortunately, she wasn’t dead.
“Get away from me, you sick bastard!”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Blake. I was making sure you’ve come back to us.”
The man’s voice was different, unfamiliar.
“I know you’ve been through a purgatory. You’re fortunate to be alive.”
She shot open her eyes, but the light was still overbearing, everything a haze. She raised her bandaged hand to her eyes.
“Who’re you?”
“I’m Dr. James Kyle, head of the OHSU trauma center in Portland. Please try to remain calm. You’re in safe hands.”
She lowered her hand away from her eyes in great trepidation. Had salvation arrived? Or was she deep in the depths of hell in another one of his sick games? She took a few gulps of air, helping her eyes adjust. She wouldn’t survive another day with this monster. The room was spinning, and everything blurred. The first things she noticed were the drawn light-blue curtains and the plasma television monitor suspended above her bed. She stiffened as the cuff of the blood pressure monitor tightened around her left arm, surrounded by an array of infusions with multiple chords connected to her semi-exposed chest. To her left, a steady, monotonous beep emanated from the vital signs monitor. The walls, ceiling, and floor had a fresh coat of nude-white paint.
“Can you tell me your full name?”
The voice was empathic and sincere. She twisted her head toward him. A handsome young man, she estimated in his early thirties, crouched near her bedside. His golden-blonde hair, brushed to the right of his unlined forehead, formed a wave whose crest curled down and hovered above concerned hazel eyes. Their eyes locked for a moment, both searching for answers. She saw no signs of violence or menace, only kindness and urgency to help as his eyes scanned for signs of comprehension. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t muster the words, her parched lips quivering, mouth and tongue devoid of any moisture. Then her eyes narrowed on the oxygen mask covering her nose and mouth. She reached for it with her bandaged fingers, but they slid off the smooth plastic as she struggled to get a proper grip. She glanced pleadingly up at his eyes, which seemed to vary between shades of brown, green, and gold.
He gripped her by the wrists and lowered her arms to her sides, his cotton navy shirt and white coat hovering inches from her face. His fresh cologne wafted into her nostrils, rejuvenating her like a splash of cold water to her face after an arduous day outdoors. A shiny nametag clipped to the pocket of his coat highlighted his prestigious title.
“You should limit your movement,” he said, releasing her wrists. With his right hand, he removed the oxygen mask from her face. “That should help, take a few deep breaths.”
The sudden lack of supported oxygen caught her off guard. She gasped, taking deep, rapid breaths to acclimate her lung muscles. All her insides felt raw and dry as if she had swallowed sandpaper.
“Water, please.”
Every word pained her as she craved water to soothe the burning sensation rippling through her mouth, throat, and lungs.
“You’re receiving all the liquids you need through an IV, it’s only a sensation. You shouldn’t drink much at this stage. This should make it better.” He moved a plastic cup with a small piece of gauze inside toward her mouth, placing it at the edge of her chin. He dipped a latex-gloved hand into the cup and swirled the gauze in the clear liquid at the bottom. His thumb and index finger fished out the gauze.
For a brief second, Abbie panicked. Was he going to shove the gauze down her throat? Was she going to be his medical guinea pig? Although he looked sensible, the most normal-looking people did some of the most horrific acts on earth. The sort of people that don’t stand out from the crowd. But Dr. Kyle was different, a gorgeous and athletic man. She feared his attractive appearance clouded her judgment.
He noticed the fear in her eyes. “I soaked the gauze in water. I’ll place it on your lips. You can suck on it for small amounts of water until you’re accustomed to it. You’ve been unconscious for a long time. All your organs will feel numb, so it’ll take some patience.”
Long time!
She had so many questions, but for now, the water beckoned. The wet gauze tempted her like an exotic fruit. She suckled on the cloth like a newborn breastfeeding for the first time. The water bathed her cracking lips and streams leaked down her chin, caressing her collar bone.
Dr. Kyle absorbed the excess liquid with another gauze, padding her chin and chest area.
She relished the liquid as it soothed the burning sensation. But what felt even better than the water was the fact she was in the proper care. She reveled in the safety, although she feared it would end at any moment.
“Alright, let’s give it another try. What’s your full name?”
He removed the gauze from her lips.
“My name’s Abigail Blake.”
The sound of her voice surprised her. She grew accustomed to it, sounding no louder than a croak or a whimper. Now at least she sounded like her usual self, albeit herself first thing in the morning.
“That’s great, Abigail. What’s your last recollection?”
“What about my family?” She cut him off. All that mattered to her was that her fight for survival was worth something. The beeping on the vital signs monitors changed from a steady beep to rapid, short beeps.
“Please try to remain calm. I’ll explain everything that happened.” He lowered his gaze and adjusted his pristine white coat. “Before I discuss your family, there’s something you should know.” He placed a comforting palm on her shoulder until the rapid beeping slowed to a steady rhythm.
Eye For Her: A gripping must-read thriller Page 7