by Bobbi Holmes
Walt looked down at his hands, staring a moment, and then looked back to Heather. “I can’t do it without seeing the knot.”
“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Heather screeched.
“I need to see it so I know how to untie it,” Walt said. “There isn’t enough light.”
“What are you two talking about?” Brian asked.
Heather looked at Brian and said impatiently, “Please, Brian, just stay out of this.” She turned back to Walt and said, “Can’t you just pull the rope until it breaks.”
“That won’t work,” Walt said.
“Yes, it will. Just pull the rope off your wrists. You can see your wrists, can’t you?” Heather asked.
“You don’t understand,” Walt said, looking at Heather. “But I can see your wrists too, so let me show you what the problem is.”
The next moment Heather’s wrists moved forward slightly as she cried out in pain. “Damn, Walt, that hurt!”
“That was what I was trying to tell you,” Walt said impatiently.
“How about pulling the rope apart, but not against my wrists, in the opposite direction, away from the wrists,” Heather suggested.
“I can’t move in two directions at once,” Walt told her.
Brian frowned. What were they talking about? Had their abduction caused them both to snap? Wonderful, he thought; it was bad enough being tied up and left in the middle of the forest, but to be tied up and left with two people who were obviously bonkers—this day was just getting worse and worse.
Heather and Walt continue to argue over ropes and energy, making no sense to Brian, when the raspy sound of a mountain lion’s cry silenced the pair, yet not before Heather muttered, “Holy crap.”
The three looked toward the darkness of the surrounding trees to the east, and from where the eerie cry had come. They all continued to stare, each of them remaining motionless. Brian found himself holding his breath.
Minutes ticked away, and Brian, who thought the danger had passed, began to relax when a mountain lion strolled leisurely into the clearing, again letting out a cry.
“Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap,” Heather muttered. The mountain lion looked her way. “Do something, Walt!”
If the mountain lion was going to eat any of them, Brian figured it would probably be Heather, since she had just captured the big cat’s attention. It strolled up to her and sniffed. Brian didn’t feel especially comforted by the fact, even if it meant the mountain lion might get its fill and leave. As much as he found Heather annoying, he did not want to see her brutally ripped to shreds.
In the next moment, Walt said, “Over here.”
The cat abandoned Heather and turned to Walt. Brian wasn’t sure if that was the most heroic thing he had ever witnessed, or the most stupid.
He watched as the mountain lion pushed its nose into Walt’s face. Because of the fading light, Brian could not see Walt’s expression. He assumed it was that of terror, yet he would have been wrong. Walt’s expression, had Brian been able to see it, was supreme calm.
Minutes ticked away, and Brian could hear his own heartbeat as the wild animal and Walt continued to stare into each other’s eyes, just inches apart. Brian wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.
The mountain lion stepped back from Walt and let out another cry. Brian watched as Walt lifted his bound wrists in what appeared to be an attempt to reach out to the mountain lion, yet the ropes limited his movement.
The mountain lion stepped up to Walt again, this time opening its mouth, showing its wicked teeth before biting down on Walt’s wrists. Brian closed his eyes, expecting Walt to cry out in pain. Not only couldn’t he watch, but he didn’t understand. None of it made sense. Why would Walt offer his hands to the mountain lion? Did he imagine he could punch its nose and scare it away? Walt was as whacked as Heather, Brian thought.
Holding his eyes closed tightly, Brian waited for the scream that never came. Instead, he heard Walt say in a calm voice, “Thank you.”
Confused, Brian opened his eyes. Walt’s wrists were no longer tied together. Nor were they bloody. At least, not from what Brian could see in the fading light. Walt shook his wrists several times, as if to shake off any numbness along with pieces of the now shredded rope.
The cat circled Walt’s tree, its head down, disappearing from sight. What Brian couldn’t see was the cat now chewing at the ropes along the back of the tree, the ones securing Walt in place. When Walt leaned toward his ankles a moment later, his body no longer bound to the tree, Brian knew the cat had cut the ropes, as it had the ones around Walt’s wrists. None of it made any sense.
Walt untied his ankles as the cat moved from behind the tree and watched him.
“Thank you, but I can get these,” Walt said.
Brian wondered if their kidnappers had put some hallucinogens in those cookies. None of this could seriously happen. With his ankles now free, Walt stood and reached out to the mountain lion. The cat sniffed Walt’s hand and then turned its head slightly and rubbed the back of its head against Walt’s fingers. Brian could swear he heard a purr.
The next moment the cat turned from Walt and ran off, disappearing into the forest.
“Dang, Walt, I figured you would just toss that cat,” Heather said.
“Why would I want to hurt a magnificent animal like that?” Walt asked. “We’re intruding on her domain. Plus, her sharp teeth came in handy.” He moved to Heather and began untying her wrists.
Wide-eyed, Brian stared speechless at Heather and Walt, who seemed unfazed that a mountain lion had just chewed through the ropes—without hurting Walt—and then simply left. Several minutes later Walt was by Brian, now untying the ropes around his wrists. The last of twilight was almost gone, and Brian could barely see Walt’s face.
“What just happened?” Brian finally asked as Walt finished untying the ropes around his wrists.
“Does anyone have any matches?” Heather asked as she busily dragged the abandoned travoises to the center of the clearing. “I’m glad they left these; they’ll make a good bonfire. And these tarps can keep us warm tonight.”
“What just happened?” Brian repeated.
“I have matches,” Walt said. “But we need to be careful. It’s August, and not the best time to start a fire in the forest.”
“This is survival, Walt. We’ll be careful. Think you can break these into smaller pieces?” Heather asked, referring to the tree limbs the Parker sisters had used when making the travoises.
“What just happened?” Brian said again.
Much to Brian’s frustration, Walt and Heather did not answer; instead each worked quickly before darkness completely engulfed them. When looking to Walt and Heather laying logs for a fire, he remembered seeing one woman drop something. He walked to the area and began feeling around on the ground. A moment later, he found what she had dropped buried beneath the dirt and pine needles, a hunting knife. Fortunately for him, a leather shield covered its blade, preventing Brian from cutting himself on its sharp edge while blindly groping in the dirt.
“I found something we can use,” Brian said, holding up the knife.
“Where did that come from?” Heather asked.
“I saw one of them drop it,” Brian said.
“I wish they would have dropped a bottle of water instead. I’m dying of thirst,” Heather grumbled.
“My new friend told me there’s a fresh stream not far from here,” Walt said. “I don’t think we’ll die of dehydration.”
The half-moon rose about twenty minutes after twilight. Yet even during the darkest phase of the night sky, the bonfire provided light and warmth. The three sat around the fire, each wrapped in a tarp recycled from the travoises that had brought them to this place.
They had just settled by the newly built fire when Brian asked, “Will you tell me now what happened with that mountain lion. Can you explain it, please?”
Heather looked to Walt and smiled. “I think you should tell him.”
“Are you going to explain?” Brian snapped.
Walt looked to Brian, studying him a moment as the flames of the bonfire flickered and cast shadows. Finally, he said, “Remember when you were in the parlor, behind the sofa, picking up that picture that fell off the wall, and I walked in, and you caught me having a conversation with Max?”
Brian frowned. “Yes. What about it?”
“I lied to you. I didn’t know you were there. I discovered later you’d overheard me, and that was only because it was caught on the security camera. I had forgotten they were there when I had my little conversation with Max. Chris told me later, when he watched that clip. He thought it was rather hilarious.”
“I still don’t understand,” Brian said.
“I was talking to Max. And he was talking to me. Well, not talking exactly. Communicating telepathically. I have a habit of saying out loud what I’m conversing mentally with Max.”
“Are you suggesting you talk to the animals?”
Heather laughed. “Yeah, Walt is our own Dr. Dolittle. I told him once he could make a fortune as an animal psychic.”
Nineteen
Brian did not respond to Heather’s Dr. Dolittle comment. Instead, he stared into the flames while trying to process all that had happened to him since stepping into Pagan Oils. The women who had brought them to this site had transported them using homemade travoises, each one fitted with a tarp. Fortunately, they had left them behind. The branches from the travoises fed the fire, while the tarps gave them something dry to sit on. He pulled up the corners to provide extra covering and warmth. It might be summer, but the evening temperatures in the mountains could dip to chilly numbers. Hopefully, there would be no rain tonight, and by the clear sky overhead, Brian thought they might be lucky and stay dry.
“Were you surprised you could talk to the mountain lion like you do cats and dogs?” Heather asked Walt.
“A mountain lion is a cat,” Walt reminded her. “Just a big one.”
“But it is a wild animal,” Heather said.
“True. But I have wondered about this scenario before,” Walt said.
“What, you imagined you’d get kidnapped, left in the forest, and a mountain lion would show up and set you free?” Heather asked.
Walt chuckled and then said, “No. I wondered how a big cat, like a mountain lion or tiger, would respond. Would it differ from a domestic cat? But I always suspected it might be like it was tonight.”
“Why is that?” Heather asked.
“Think about how Sadie and Max get along. If Max were a larger cat, maybe a panther—”
“Max looks like a mini panther,” Heather said.
“Imagine him a full-grown panther, and he and Sadie ran into each other in the woods,” Walt suggested.
“Max would probably eat poor Sadie,” Heather said.
“But that isn’t always true. I’m sure you’ve seen those videos online of big cats and domesticated dogs who are best friends,” Walt said.
“Yes, but that’s because they’re introduced when the cat is very young,” Heather said.
“Introduced when they can get to know each other—communicate—before the cat thinks of eating the dog. I suppose you might say it gives them time to develop their own language. And I believe one reason for war and strife is an inability to understand or communicate with each other.”
“So you’re suggesting once the mountain lion got to know you better, more than just potential dinner, she wasn’t as apt to kill you?” Heather asked.
“Something like that,” Walt said.
“What in the hell are you talking about?” Brian blurted.
Heather looked at Brian. “I thought you understood now. Walt can communicate with animals. Well, at least some animals. We don’t know if he can with all of them.”
“What did those crazy women put in those damn cookies? Were they spiked with some acid along with whatever knocked us out?” Brian asked.
“I doubt it,” Heather said. “I certainly haven’t seen anything weird.”
Brian stared a moment at Heather, his expression blank. Finally, he said, “Seriously? You have seen nothing weird tonight? Nothing? A mountain lion chewing off Walt’s ropes for him, that is not a bit unusual?”
Heather shrugged. “I said I was surprised. But it’s not weird like acid-trip weird. Although, I admit, I have never taken acid. Drugs have never been my thing. And while I don’t have personal experience with using drugs, I know each person’s trip is different. We all saw the mountain lion chew off those ropes.”
“All I know, when we get out of here and back home, if I was to tell anyone what I saw with Walt and that mountain lion, people would think I’m nuts,” Brian said.
“Welcome to our world,” Heather quipped.
“Maybe we should discuss how we plan to get back home,” Walt suggested. “Instead of rehashing our encounter with the local wildlife.”
“I assume we’ll sleep here tonight, by the fire,” Heather said. “And try walking out as soon as the sun comes up. I don’t think it would be very smart trying to walk out now. We don’t know where we are as it is. We’ll surely get more lost if we take off in the dark.”
“More lost?” Brian smirked. “Are there degrees to being lost?”
Heather glared at Brian. “Oh, shut up.”
“You’ve told me to shut up a lot tonight,” Brian said.
“I would stop saying it if you would just do it,” Heather said.
“I don’t think we need to bicker,” Walt said. “If we are to get out of here, we need to work together. Unfortunately, I have absolutely no idea where we are.”
“I came to when they were bringing us here,” Heather said. She then pointed to one area along the trees encircling them. “We came through that way. There is a trail. We should probably just follow it.”
“After they left, I heard a car engine start. I assume it belonged to them. It’s hard to judge time, but I’m fairly certain it was about thirty minutes after they left us. So perhaps we’re about a half hour from a road,” Brian suggested.
Heather looked down at her jogging shoes and said, “I’m just glad I got kidnapped on a Saturday.”
“There are preferable days for a kidnapping?” Brian asked.
“Yes. I jog every morning. And on Saturdays, I normally don’t change out of my jogging clothes—like today. Who needs all that extra laundry?” Heather said.
“But doesn’t that mean you’re all sweaty and smelly?” Brian teased.
“Oh, shut up,” Heather said, but she didn’t sound angry. “On workdays I change out of my jogging clothes and often wear my boots to work. I would not want to wear those high heels while trying to walk out of a forest.”
“I hope you shower before work,” Brian said.
“Oh, shut up,” Heather retorted.
Brian laughed.
“I’m glad to see you two have not lost your sense of humor,” Walt said. “But I would like to know, why are we here?”
“Like I told you, I’m sure they drugged those cookies,” Heather said.
“But why did they drug us?” Walt asked.
Instead of answering the questions, they all stared into the fire, each silently considering the true motivations of the women who had brought them to this place.
After a while, Brian said, “I don’t think Walt and I were the intended targets. I think Heather was, and we just walked in at the wrong time.”
“Why would I be the target?” Heather asked. “I don’t even know those women. I’d never been in the store before. The only reason I went in there, Marie said they had a large selection of essential oils.”
“Marie?” Brian asked with a frown.
Heather stared at Brian a moment and then shrugged. “Just a friend.”
“Why do
n’t you think we were targets?” Walt asked.
Instead of answering, Brian looked at Heather and asked, “How long were you in the store when we arrived?”
“I don’t know. I walked in, asked about the oils. One of them showed me where they were. I looked for a few minutes, found what I wanted, went back to the counter, and they offered me a cookie. Then you guys walked in.”
“Were they closing up when you got there?” Brian asked.
“Closing up? I noticed they put the blinds down when I came back to the counter with my oils. I asked them if they were closing up, thought maybe I should hurry. But they said I had plenty of time.”
“When Walt and I got there, the door was already locked,” Brian said.
“I don’t know why they would lock the door; I was still in the store, and they said they weren’t closing yet,” Heather said.
“Exactly,” Brian said.
Heather stared dumbly at Brian a moment before recognition dawned. “Oh…they locked the door and then offered me the cookie. Waiting for me to pass out.”
“Yes. And I don’t think the one who unlocked the door and let us in the shop knew what was going on in there. But considering how fast those cookies worked, and you had already eaten one, I think they figured they didn’t have any other choice than to drug all of us,” Brian said.
“But why? What would they want Heather for?” Walt asked.
“You were still unconscious, but they performed some kind of ceremony,” Brian said. “I have no idea what any of it meant. Sounded like a bunch of gibberish to me.”
“They are obviously witches. Or at least, think they are,” Heather said.
“Do you believe in witches?” Brian asked.
“I’m not sure what you mean by witches when you asked that question. There is the Wicca religion, where members consider themselves witches. But those are not broomstick-flying witches we think of at Halloween. I looked at their website. According to them, they aren’t Wicca. They call themselves blood witches. Which I thought was nothing more than marketing. But considering what they did, I have a feeling they believe all that stuff,” Heather said.